Fic: Angarams and Other Puzzles
Sep. 17th, 2006 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Fic: Angarams and Other Puzzles
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serafina20
Series: Inevitable (8th in series)
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Michael/Mahone (mentions of Michael/Sara)
Summary: Michael is faced with a choice.
Four months earlier, Michael is on the phone with Lincoln. He's seen Sara, Lincoln tells him. She's working at a free clinic near where LJ goes to school. She looks good, he says. Pretty, like always. But lost. Like she's not sure where she is right now. What she's doing. Not like back at Fox River, where she'd seemed so strong, so sure.
And maybe, Lincoln says, Michael might want to think about calling her. Now that the heat is off. Or maybe, he might want to send her something and here's the address of the clinic and maybe it's time for you to start living life, Mikey.
Maybe.
Fourth months earlier, Michael's in an internet cafe. He checks his usual message boards for any communications from LJ, Lincoln, or Sucre, the only people he keeps in touch with now. Then, he surfs the news, something he only allows himself to do once or twice a week.
Then, he goes to the fun sights. Tonight, it's his favorite anagram posting board.
After fifteen minutes of browsing, solving what he can, Michael stumbles across one that catches his eyes:
"Fame explodes hot cows."
The solution, he's told, is five words.
It takes some juggling. Some coffee. Three pages in the writing program. And then Michael has, "Lost Fox Who Escaped Me."
When Michael inputs the solution, he is taken to another puzzle.
"Rare and skilled of cool foxes." Solution four words.
It's another half hour before Michael has, "Alexander looks for Scofield." Upon inputting the solution, he's taken to another link. This link leads to an address. No message, nothing. Just an address.
And now he has a choice.
Sara Tancredi. The only woman he thinks he ever really loved. The only one he thinks ever looked at him and saw who he was. Not his face or his mind or his money. Not even his crime. She saw him.
Sara, who wanted to be the light. Who worked at a prison to make a change. Who works at a clinic because, despite everything, she still hopes. Still wants to be the light.
A choice.
Alexander Mahone. Ex-FBI agent. A good man. A just man. One who did the right thing when Michael needed him to do so most.
A man who can pin Michael with his eyes and make him feel naked. Exposed. Stripped bare, but in the best way. The kind of way that pulls Michael out of his mind and into his body and so ready to be taken.
His hand inches to his left.
Sara. Who is wasting away doing work she isn't connected to. Who is still looking for a cause.
He reaches to his right.
Alex. With whom he had a much less complicated relationship. One based on puzzles and the chase and heat.
Maybe. Maybe it was just Michael. He doesn't know. Maybe he wants to find out.
But...
There's a church he volunteers at. There are children who live there. A school they go to. They need teachers and carpenters and doctors. Michael serves food on Sunday and fixes their electricity when it goes out and patches the walls and plugs the roof and makes sure the rooms are comfortable. He does what he can, and it's not enough and they need a doctor.
And he knows a doctor who needs a cause.
But, God, what lies between them is so complicated. And his life isn't right now. He loves it, the way it is. The ease. And he's lonely, he admits that.
But, more than that, they need a doctor.
He picks up both papers.
Two choices. In his right hand is a letter. In the letter is explanations. Declarations. Expressions. Requests.
In his left is a flyer requesting donations to the church. Nothing more. No explanations. No declarations or expressions. Not even a request.
Not even an address. Just... a flyer and location of the church.
Michael holds his breath. Searches through his thoughts, hoping to stumble across a logical solution. Something removed from the desire that'd been burning in his belly since coming across the anagrams. Something that didn't make his head ache the way it had been since Lincoln told him about Sara.
Something...
But there is nothing. Just desire. And the ache. And a choice that boils down to the impossible: choose himself or choose others.
He closes his eyes and tries to think like Lincoln. Pretends to talk to Lincoln.
"What should I do?" he asks.
"Choose the girl," Lincoln says. Like he always says. Choose the thing that'll make you happy. Choose yourself, first.
So hard.
He exhales slowly. Takes a deep breath. Squeezes his right hand, and drops the letter on the floor. Gets up from the table and leaves for town.
Four months later, he's helping Alex unpack and he finds, in the bottom of the suitcase, the flyer for the church.
"You kept this?" he says, holding it up.
Alex glances at it. Smiles, sheepish. "Of course. I've always been fond of puzzles."
"And... Scrabble tiles?" Michael holds up the bag of tiles, having given up
"For anagrams. It's easiest to see them if I have the letters to manipulate."
Michael nods. Sets the tiles and the flyer on top of his sketchpad on the nightstand. Moves across the room and into Alex's arm. "I made the right choice," he says, kissing Alex softly.
"What?"
"Nothing." He kisses Alex again. "It's not important. I'm just glad you're here." And he is. Because, for once, he chose himself. And he doesn't feel guilty at all.
Author:
serafina20Series: Inevitable (8th in series)
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Michael/Mahone (mentions of Michael/Sara)
Summary: Michael is faced with a choice.
Four months earlier, Michael is on the phone with Lincoln. He's seen Sara, Lincoln tells him. She's working at a free clinic near where LJ goes to school. She looks good, he says. Pretty, like always. But lost. Like she's not sure where she is right now. What she's doing. Not like back at Fox River, where she'd seemed so strong, so sure.
And maybe, Lincoln says, Michael might want to think about calling her. Now that the heat is off. Or maybe, he might want to send her something and here's the address of the clinic and maybe it's time for you to start living life, Mikey.
Maybe.
Fourth months earlier, Michael's in an internet cafe. He checks his usual message boards for any communications from LJ, Lincoln, or Sucre, the only people he keeps in touch with now. Then, he surfs the news, something he only allows himself to do once or twice a week.
Then, he goes to the fun sights. Tonight, it's his favorite anagram posting board.
After fifteen minutes of browsing, solving what he can, Michael stumbles across one that catches his eyes:
"Fame explodes hot cows."
The solution, he's told, is five words.
It takes some juggling. Some coffee. Three pages in the writing program. And then Michael has, "Lost Fox Who Escaped Me."
When Michael inputs the solution, he is taken to another puzzle.
"Rare and skilled of cool foxes." Solution four words.
It's another half hour before Michael has, "Alexander looks for Scofield." Upon inputting the solution, he's taken to another link. This link leads to an address. No message, nothing. Just an address.
And now he has a choice.
Sara Tancredi. The only woman he thinks he ever really loved. The only one he thinks ever looked at him and saw who he was. Not his face or his mind or his money. Not even his crime. She saw him.
Sara, who wanted to be the light. Who worked at a prison to make a change. Who works at a clinic because, despite everything, she still hopes. Still wants to be the light.
A choice.
Alexander Mahone. Ex-FBI agent. A good man. A just man. One who did the right thing when Michael needed him to do so most.
A man who can pin Michael with his eyes and make him feel naked. Exposed. Stripped bare, but in the best way. The kind of way that pulls Michael out of his mind and into his body and so ready to be taken.
His hand inches to his left.
Sara. Who is wasting away doing work she isn't connected to. Who is still looking for a cause.
He reaches to his right.
Alex. With whom he had a much less complicated relationship. One based on puzzles and the chase and heat.
Maybe. Maybe it was just Michael. He doesn't know. Maybe he wants to find out.
But...
There's a church he volunteers at. There are children who live there. A school they go to. They need teachers and carpenters and doctors. Michael serves food on Sunday and fixes their electricity when it goes out and patches the walls and plugs the roof and makes sure the rooms are comfortable. He does what he can, and it's not enough and they need a doctor.
And he knows a doctor who needs a cause.
But, God, what lies between them is so complicated. And his life isn't right now. He loves it, the way it is. The ease. And he's lonely, he admits that.
But, more than that, they need a doctor.
He picks up both papers.
Two choices. In his right hand is a letter. In the letter is explanations. Declarations. Expressions. Requests.
In his left is a flyer requesting donations to the church. Nothing more. No explanations. No declarations or expressions. Not even a request.
Not even an address. Just... a flyer and location of the church.
Michael holds his breath. Searches through his thoughts, hoping to stumble across a logical solution. Something removed from the desire that'd been burning in his belly since coming across the anagrams. Something that didn't make his head ache the way it had been since Lincoln told him about Sara.
Something...
But there is nothing. Just desire. And the ache. And a choice that boils down to the impossible: choose himself or choose others.
He closes his eyes and tries to think like Lincoln. Pretends to talk to Lincoln.
"What should I do?" he asks.
"Choose the girl," Lincoln says. Like he always says. Choose the thing that'll make you happy. Choose yourself, first.
So hard.
He exhales slowly. Takes a deep breath. Squeezes his right hand, and drops the letter on the floor. Gets up from the table and leaves for town.
Four months later, he's helping Alex unpack and he finds, in the bottom of the suitcase, the flyer for the church.
"You kept this?" he says, holding it up.
Alex glances at it. Smiles, sheepish. "Of course. I've always been fond of puzzles."
"And... Scrabble tiles?" Michael holds up the bag of tiles, having given up
"For anagrams. It's easiest to see them if I have the letters to manipulate."
Michael nods. Sets the tiles and the flyer on top of his sketchpad on the nightstand. Moves across the room and into Alex's arm. "I made the right choice," he says, kissing Alex softly.
"What?"
"Nothing." He kisses Alex again. "It's not important. I'm just glad you're here." And he is. Because, for once, he chose himself. And he doesn't feel guilty at all.
