Fic: What Might Have Been
Jan. 9th, 2007 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Title: What Might Have Been
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serafina20
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Pam/Michael/Mahone
Summary: How might have things turned out if Pam and Mahone had never split up?
An hour later, we were all fed, rested, and ready to hear what Aldo had to say. And he had a lot to say. More about the conspiracy and the Company. About how he'd gotten involved with them around the time Michael was conceived. How they'd begun to encroach more and more on Aldo's life. How he began to get suspicious and uncomfortable with their requests of him. How it finally got so much, he had to cut ties with his family and leave.
"I'm sorry I left you," Aldo said. "I didn't have a choice."
No one said anything. Everyone was looking at Michael.
Aldo sighed. "Michael..."
"Maybe we should talk about this evidence you said had," Alex interrupted. He was standing behind the couch, pacing and jittery, the way he always was when it got close to time to take his medication. He put his hand on Michael's shoulder and squeezed, looking meaningfully at Aldo.
Aldo nodded, looking disappointed. I felt somewhat sorry for the man. Obviously this Company we were dealing with had long arms. If he had stayed with his family, he probably would have been killed. Or, worse, Lincoln and his mother--pregnant with Michael--would have been killed. In that light, leaving his family was the responsible thing to do.
And yet, the damage it had done.... Not just to Michael, but to Lincoln as well. It was a hard thing to forgive.
"There's an NSA analyst who's sympathetic to our plight. He's managed to work his way into the up and got clearance to the Echelon program."
"What's that?" I asked.
"A spy program," Alex said. "The EP interpret e-mails, cell phone calls and the like," Alex said.
Aldo nodded. "Everything goes through it. It's interpreted, catalogued, and stored for Homeland Security. Nothing is missed by it. Absolutely nothing. Including, for a few months after 9/11, the White House. Now, it was an accident, but a lucky break for us. Our analyst got a conversation between the president and Terrance Steadman two weeks after Lincoln supposedly killed him. Now, our analyst was killed trying to get the information out of the building, but, someone else found it, too. Someone else who wanted answers about the president."
"Not that we don't appreciate your sense of drama, but it'd go a lot quicker if you just tell us who," said Alex, voice sharp. The hand on Michael's shoulder tightened.
"Governor Frank Tancredi," Aldo said flatly. "He's the one who was looking around and he's the one who has the tape."
"And he's still alive?" Lincoln said, a hint of dryness to his voice.
Aldo nodded. "Right now, the company's waiting to see what he'll do with the information. After all, if he's the kind of man who hides information that could exonerate an innocent man just to further his career, then he's exactly the kind of man the company wants. If he decides to confront them, they kill him. If he tries to go to the press or the judge, they already have measures in place to take him out."
"So what are we supposed to do?" I asked. "If we go to him, won't they kill us to?"
"That would depend on how we approached him. And who." He looked at me eyebrows raised.
I looked back at him, waiting for him to go on. When he didn't, I began to feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.
Suddenly, Alex's hand clamped on my shoulder. "No."
"They don't know her. They won't suspect."
"How can you possibly say they don't know her? Of course they do. They've already threatened her. Already used her against me," said Alex. "If she suddenly pops up in the governor's office, I'm certain they'll figure out we're on to something."
"And it's bad enough I've already put her in further danger," Michael added. His hand slipped into mine and clutched tightly. "I'm not going to let you do more."
"Michael..."
"It's out of the question!" he shouted, eyes ablaze.
There was a heavy silence. I glanced over at Lincoln.
He shrugged minutely and sort of rolled his eyes.
It was up to me, then.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked Aldo.
"No," both my men said at the same time.
I ignored them, my gaze steady.
"Tancredi usually visits his daughter at night. After visiting hours. He goes in, sits by her bed for a few minutes, then leave. I think that's the best time to get to him. Now, it's up to you. I thought it might be best if we have someone that everyone in the company doesn't know. And since you've been on TV, I'm fairly certain even those you haven't met know of your involvement. But if you disagree, you're welcome to go in."
"I have to explain why I'm suddenly back in Chicago," Alex said. "I could say that I think Michael's going back for Sara Tancredi."
"And they'll believe the best use of your time is to stake out her room?"
"I'm not letting my wife put herself in danger."
"Don't I have a choice?" I asked. I turned and looked up at him. "It seems to me that no matter what, my life is in danger. Either you leave me behind here, alone, and go back to Chicago and then they come here to kill me, or I go with you and actually do something to help and get killed, I still end up dead." I took his hand, sliding mine up his wrist in a gentle caress. "I've been a target ever since you delivered the worst pick up line in the world fifteen years ago, Alex. The question now is, do I go down like a princess in hiding, or a warrior in my own right?"
Alex sighed. Without letting me go, he came around the couch and sat next to me so I was flanked by him and Michael. "I don't like this. I don't want you there."
"I don't want you there either. Either of you." I squeezed Michael's hand and gave him a quick smile. "But the impression I get is that I'd just be the inbetween. The one who tells Tancredi where to meet the rest of you. Right?"
Aldo nodded.
"If he's seen talking to you, they'll get suspicious," I said. "They'll probably force the issue with him. Get to him before we do. And they probably won't recognize me out of context. Not the people there."
"Pam, these people," Michael started, but I interrupted.
"These people are not omniscient. They may seem it, but they're not." I touched his cheek. "I'll get a pair of scrubs. Hide in the bathroom until the governor comes. Pass a note, then leave. Whatever." I turned back to Alex. "Who else is going to be able to do it? I'm the only one not engrained on every newscast and paper."
"Aldo isn't," Michael said.
We all turned to him.
The other man nodded slowly. "There are those in the company who still remember me. Perhaps more, since I passed information that would shed doubt on the trail. But there's a chance I could do it. There's a chance I'd get caught."
"You take the same risk," Michael said.
"No. He takes more of a risk," I said. "They'll be expecting something like him. Or you, Michael. They won't be expecting... no one. Me. A nurse, or a volunteer."
Alex pressed his lips together in a tight line. "If you do this," he said, emphasizing the if, "you go into hiding immediately after. That means you have to cut all ties to your life until we know the Company has been neutralized. And, honestly? I'm afraid that may take years."
There was a lump in my throat. It hurt when I tried to swallow around it. "The way I see it, Alex, no matter what happens, I either cut ties with my life or I cut ties with you. And I can't do that, again. Not even for a week. Not even for a day. I will not lose you."
Alex let out a long breath. His hand wrapped around my neck and he tugged me to him. The kiss was gentle, deep. It made everything in me quiver and ache feel as if I were made of sand and liquid and air.
When he ended the kiss, Alex rested his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry I let Shales get to me," he whispered. "I'm sorry I let this happen."
We were alone. It was if the others had melted away, only the more rational part of me knew they'd just left for other parts of the house. I hadn't noticed them leaving.
A tear fell out of my eye. Splashed on my cheek. I wiped it away. "That's as stupid as me saying I'm sorry I almost let the bastard rape me."
"No. I should have been stronger. Better."
"You were who you were. Who you are." I caressed his cheek. "And I love you." I kissed him. "It's a risk no matter what we do. But I think this is the best way. I'm low enough on the radar that they won't suspect me until too later. And by that time, I'll be in hiding. With Michael. And maybe the idea that he needs to take care of me after might be enough to keep him from doing something stupid."
Alex laughed softly. "Do you really think so? He's a pretty stubborn man."
"I know how to handle stubborn men, believe me." I pulled away and wiped my eyes. "Do you think we can trust him?" I asked, referring to Aldo.
"Right now, we don't have much choice. I'm not pinning everything on him, though. Michael and I have already discussed what to do, in case..."
"That's my boys," I said, touching Alex's cheek gently.
He took my hand and kissed it. "All right. Let's go hash this out. Get it planned. We're not going in without one."
"Just as long as you don't get it tattooed on you. Not that it's not hot on Michael, but all things in moderation."
"Yes, dear," Alex said, mock-meekly. "Whatever you say."
* * *
It's easy to say that I'm ready to give up everything. Well. Not really. But when given the choice between losing my husband and starting a new life, the choice was clear. Not easy. Clear.
So clear I can't breathe.
After we worked out all the details, I went to my studio. Just looking at it, at the space I'd forged, as the work I'd done, and knowing I'd be leaving it... My chest ached.
For a long time, I just stood there, in the middle, staring. Trying to decide what I could bring. What I would leave. If I'd see it again.
I don't know how long I stood there, not working. At some point, the drawing I'd started that morning caught my eye. Feeling distant, detached, I went to it. Dug for my oils. Started coloring in the lines. The clouds grew black. The images seemed more horrifying. Ravens appeared, emerged from the cloud, harbingers of things I didn't want to think about. Chasing my dove, my hawk. Putting them in danger.
The dove was creamy white. Innocence. Purity. Beauty. The stars on its wings were intricate and blue. They twinkled and shone, pushing back the darkness. Fighting the clouds as he flew, trying to save his brother and nephew. Leopards.
I was still coloring when I felt a body press behind mine. Hands slid down my arms until they reached my hands, stilling them. The hands didn't belong to Alex. They were the hands of an artist, a poet, an innocent and beautiful soul.
Michael crossed our arms over my stomach. He didn't say anything, just rested his head against mine. His eyes studied the picture for quite some time. I didn't ask what he thought, didn't need to. It was just a drawing, just something to calm me down, and I knew that Michael would understand this. Understand what it was and why it was.
After a some time had past, he inhaled. Frowned. Glanced at me, a question in his eyes.
I didn't know how to answer it.
He uncurled himself from me and went to the easel. He sorted through the oils carefully before extracting three. Then, eyes on the canvas, he began to draw. Under his hands, a star appeared. The sun, only brighter. Whiter. Formless and infinite, the sun of a hot summer day when it's so bright you squint to be outside. So bright it seems to spread through the sky, bathing everything with its light. The light this son brushed over the head of the leopard cub. Engulfed the dove and the hawk. Even brushed against the edges of the cloud, nearly obliterating one of the ravens with its power.
Inside the sun faint images appeared. The symbol for infinity. A chalice. Three rings intertwined. A heart. All done so lightly one had to really look to see them. But I saw them.
Finally, Michael stepped away from the canvas. Turned to me, unconsciously wiping his hands on his jeans.
The dam broke. I crumpled. Michael stepped back to me, gathered me into his arms. Lowered us to the ground. His mouth was on mine, soft. Almost rhythmic. His hands combed through my hair. Body pressed into mine. He kissed away tears. Down the length of my neck. Stroked under my shirt. Curved around to the small of my back where his fingers danced. Pressed me tighter against him.
We kissed until we were exhausted. Until I was cried out and drained, limp in his arms. And still we lay there, in the center of my studio, as the setting sun streamed in through my windows. I knew this was the last time I would be in this room, and I regretted nothing.
Author:
serafina20Rating: Mature
Pairing: Pam/Michael/Mahone
Summary: How might have things turned out if Pam and Mahone had never split up?
An hour later, we were all fed, rested, and ready to hear what Aldo had to say. And he had a lot to say. More about the conspiracy and the Company. About how he'd gotten involved with them around the time Michael was conceived. How they'd begun to encroach more and more on Aldo's life. How he began to get suspicious and uncomfortable with their requests of him. How it finally got so much, he had to cut ties with his family and leave.
"I'm sorry I left you," Aldo said. "I didn't have a choice."
No one said anything. Everyone was looking at Michael.
Aldo sighed. "Michael..."
"Maybe we should talk about this evidence you said had," Alex interrupted. He was standing behind the couch, pacing and jittery, the way he always was when it got close to time to take his medication. He put his hand on Michael's shoulder and squeezed, looking meaningfully at Aldo.
Aldo nodded, looking disappointed. I felt somewhat sorry for the man. Obviously this Company we were dealing with had long arms. If he had stayed with his family, he probably would have been killed. Or, worse, Lincoln and his mother--pregnant with Michael--would have been killed. In that light, leaving his family was the responsible thing to do.
And yet, the damage it had done.... Not just to Michael, but to Lincoln as well. It was a hard thing to forgive.
"There's an NSA analyst who's sympathetic to our plight. He's managed to work his way into the up and got clearance to the Echelon program."
"What's that?" I asked.
"A spy program," Alex said. "The EP interpret e-mails, cell phone calls and the like," Alex said.
Aldo nodded. "Everything goes through it. It's interpreted, catalogued, and stored for Homeland Security. Nothing is missed by it. Absolutely nothing. Including, for a few months after 9/11, the White House. Now, it was an accident, but a lucky break for us. Our analyst got a conversation between the president and Terrance Steadman two weeks after Lincoln supposedly killed him. Now, our analyst was killed trying to get the information out of the building, but, someone else found it, too. Someone else who wanted answers about the president."
"Not that we don't appreciate your sense of drama, but it'd go a lot quicker if you just tell us who," said Alex, voice sharp. The hand on Michael's shoulder tightened.
"Governor Frank Tancredi," Aldo said flatly. "He's the one who was looking around and he's the one who has the tape."
"And he's still alive?" Lincoln said, a hint of dryness to his voice.
Aldo nodded. "Right now, the company's waiting to see what he'll do with the information. After all, if he's the kind of man who hides information that could exonerate an innocent man just to further his career, then he's exactly the kind of man the company wants. If he decides to confront them, they kill him. If he tries to go to the press or the judge, they already have measures in place to take him out."
"So what are we supposed to do?" I asked. "If we go to him, won't they kill us to?"
"That would depend on how we approached him. And who." He looked at me eyebrows raised.
I looked back at him, waiting for him to go on. When he didn't, I began to feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.
Suddenly, Alex's hand clamped on my shoulder. "No."
"They don't know her. They won't suspect."
"How can you possibly say they don't know her? Of course they do. They've already threatened her. Already used her against me," said Alex. "If she suddenly pops up in the governor's office, I'm certain they'll figure out we're on to something."
"And it's bad enough I've already put her in further danger," Michael added. His hand slipped into mine and clutched tightly. "I'm not going to let you do more."
"Michael..."
"It's out of the question!" he shouted, eyes ablaze.
There was a heavy silence. I glanced over at Lincoln.
He shrugged minutely and sort of rolled his eyes.
It was up to me, then.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked Aldo.
"No," both my men said at the same time.
I ignored them, my gaze steady.
"Tancredi usually visits his daughter at night. After visiting hours. He goes in, sits by her bed for a few minutes, then leave. I think that's the best time to get to him. Now, it's up to you. I thought it might be best if we have someone that everyone in the company doesn't know. And since you've been on TV, I'm fairly certain even those you haven't met know of your involvement. But if you disagree, you're welcome to go in."
"I have to explain why I'm suddenly back in Chicago," Alex said. "I could say that I think Michael's going back for Sara Tancredi."
"And they'll believe the best use of your time is to stake out her room?"
"I'm not letting my wife put herself in danger."
"Don't I have a choice?" I asked. I turned and looked up at him. "It seems to me that no matter what, my life is in danger. Either you leave me behind here, alone, and go back to Chicago and then they come here to kill me, or I go with you and actually do something to help and get killed, I still end up dead." I took his hand, sliding mine up his wrist in a gentle caress. "I've been a target ever since you delivered the worst pick up line in the world fifteen years ago, Alex. The question now is, do I go down like a princess in hiding, or a warrior in my own right?"
Alex sighed. Without letting me go, he came around the couch and sat next to me so I was flanked by him and Michael. "I don't like this. I don't want you there."
"I don't want you there either. Either of you." I squeezed Michael's hand and gave him a quick smile. "But the impression I get is that I'd just be the inbetween. The one who tells Tancredi where to meet the rest of you. Right?"
Aldo nodded.
"If he's seen talking to you, they'll get suspicious," I said. "They'll probably force the issue with him. Get to him before we do. And they probably won't recognize me out of context. Not the people there."
"Pam, these people," Michael started, but I interrupted.
"These people are not omniscient. They may seem it, but they're not." I touched his cheek. "I'll get a pair of scrubs. Hide in the bathroom until the governor comes. Pass a note, then leave. Whatever." I turned back to Alex. "Who else is going to be able to do it? I'm the only one not engrained on every newscast and paper."
"Aldo isn't," Michael said.
We all turned to him.
The other man nodded slowly. "There are those in the company who still remember me. Perhaps more, since I passed information that would shed doubt on the trail. But there's a chance I could do it. There's a chance I'd get caught."
"You take the same risk," Michael said.
"No. He takes more of a risk," I said. "They'll be expecting something like him. Or you, Michael. They won't be expecting... no one. Me. A nurse, or a volunteer."
Alex pressed his lips together in a tight line. "If you do this," he said, emphasizing the if, "you go into hiding immediately after. That means you have to cut all ties to your life until we know the Company has been neutralized. And, honestly? I'm afraid that may take years."
There was a lump in my throat. It hurt when I tried to swallow around it. "The way I see it, Alex, no matter what happens, I either cut ties with my life or I cut ties with you. And I can't do that, again. Not even for a week. Not even for a day. I will not lose you."
Alex let out a long breath. His hand wrapped around my neck and he tugged me to him. The kiss was gentle, deep. It made everything in me quiver and ache feel as if I were made of sand and liquid and air.
When he ended the kiss, Alex rested his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry I let Shales get to me," he whispered. "I'm sorry I let this happen."
We were alone. It was if the others had melted away, only the more rational part of me knew they'd just left for other parts of the house. I hadn't noticed them leaving.
A tear fell out of my eye. Splashed on my cheek. I wiped it away. "That's as stupid as me saying I'm sorry I almost let the bastard rape me."
"No. I should have been stronger. Better."
"You were who you were. Who you are." I caressed his cheek. "And I love you." I kissed him. "It's a risk no matter what we do. But I think this is the best way. I'm low enough on the radar that they won't suspect me until too later. And by that time, I'll be in hiding. With Michael. And maybe the idea that he needs to take care of me after might be enough to keep him from doing something stupid."
Alex laughed softly. "Do you really think so? He's a pretty stubborn man."
"I know how to handle stubborn men, believe me." I pulled away and wiped my eyes. "Do you think we can trust him?" I asked, referring to Aldo.
"Right now, we don't have much choice. I'm not pinning everything on him, though. Michael and I have already discussed what to do, in case..."
"That's my boys," I said, touching Alex's cheek gently.
He took my hand and kissed it. "All right. Let's go hash this out. Get it planned. We're not going in without one."
"Just as long as you don't get it tattooed on you. Not that it's not hot on Michael, but all things in moderation."
"Yes, dear," Alex said, mock-meekly. "Whatever you say."
* * *
It's easy to say that I'm ready to give up everything. Well. Not really. But when given the choice between losing my husband and starting a new life, the choice was clear. Not easy. Clear.
So clear I can't breathe.
After we worked out all the details, I went to my studio. Just looking at it, at the space I'd forged, as the work I'd done, and knowing I'd be leaving it... My chest ached.
For a long time, I just stood there, in the middle, staring. Trying to decide what I could bring. What I would leave. If I'd see it again.
I don't know how long I stood there, not working. At some point, the drawing I'd started that morning caught my eye. Feeling distant, detached, I went to it. Dug for my oils. Started coloring in the lines. The clouds grew black. The images seemed more horrifying. Ravens appeared, emerged from the cloud, harbingers of things I didn't want to think about. Chasing my dove, my hawk. Putting them in danger.
The dove was creamy white. Innocence. Purity. Beauty. The stars on its wings were intricate and blue. They twinkled and shone, pushing back the darkness. Fighting the clouds as he flew, trying to save his brother and nephew. Leopards.
I was still coloring when I felt a body press behind mine. Hands slid down my arms until they reached my hands, stilling them. The hands didn't belong to Alex. They were the hands of an artist, a poet, an innocent and beautiful soul.
Michael crossed our arms over my stomach. He didn't say anything, just rested his head against mine. His eyes studied the picture for quite some time. I didn't ask what he thought, didn't need to. It was just a drawing, just something to calm me down, and I knew that Michael would understand this. Understand what it was and why it was.
After a some time had past, he inhaled. Frowned. Glanced at me, a question in his eyes.
I didn't know how to answer it.
He uncurled himself from me and went to the easel. He sorted through the oils carefully before extracting three. Then, eyes on the canvas, he began to draw. Under his hands, a star appeared. The sun, only brighter. Whiter. Formless and infinite, the sun of a hot summer day when it's so bright you squint to be outside. So bright it seems to spread through the sky, bathing everything with its light. The light this son brushed over the head of the leopard cub. Engulfed the dove and the hawk. Even brushed against the edges of the cloud, nearly obliterating one of the ravens with its power.
Inside the sun faint images appeared. The symbol for infinity. A chalice. Three rings intertwined. A heart. All done so lightly one had to really look to see them. But I saw them.
Finally, Michael stepped away from the canvas. Turned to me, unconsciously wiping his hands on his jeans.
The dam broke. I crumpled. Michael stepped back to me, gathered me into his arms. Lowered us to the ground. His mouth was on mine, soft. Almost rhythmic. His hands combed through my hair. Body pressed into mine. He kissed away tears. Down the length of my neck. Stroked under my shirt. Curved around to the small of my back where his fingers danced. Pressed me tighter against him.
We kissed until we were exhausted. Until I was cried out and drained, limp in his arms. And still we lay there, in the center of my studio, as the setting sun streamed in through my windows. I knew this was the last time I would be in this room, and I regretted nothing.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 03:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 04:46 am (UTC)Thank you so much for your kind praise. It means a lot to me.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 09:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-12 02:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-12 04:11 am (UTC)You know you're lucky when you get to call Alex and Michael "my men" ;)
And an amazingly beautiful ending. Wonderful imagery and emotion. LOVED it.