serafina20 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
serafina20) wrote2007-02-07 09:44 pm
serafina20) wrote2007-02-07 09:44 pm
Entry tags:
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Title: Cellie
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serafina20
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Summary: Four months into his sentence for the murder of Oscar Shales, Alexander Mahone gets a new cellie.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Daytime TV remained as uninteresting as ever. Talk shows that made him despair for humanity. Soap operas whose plots were convoluted, unbelievable, and poorly acted. News that informed of nothing. Old sitcoms he had memorized. The only thing Alex found remotely entertaining were reality dating shows, and he felt vaguely dirty for deriving any pleasure from them.
And yet...
He was breathing much better today. He'd been taken off the oxygen, although he was still using albuterol every two hours. And he was tired. He couldn't even muster enough energy to pick up a paperback book. Just lie in bed and watch TV, letting the words wash over him, bored to death.
Around four, that changed. A nurse rushed into his room. Drew the curtains and slammed the door shut behind her as she left.
Interesting.
Alex slipped the oxygen reader from his index finger. Swung his legs over the edge of the bed and into his slippers. Went to the door and opened.
"Alex, get back to bed," Clark, the CO standing guard, snapped.
"Why are you guarding my door, boss?" he asked.
"Get back in there." Clark slammed the door on Alex.
He stepped back. Frowned. Went to the window and pulled the shades.
"Michael." Illness forgotten, malaise and exhaustion gone, Alex burst through the door. Clark, caught off guard, was shoved aside as Alex threw the door open. Ran down the hall to the room across from his.
Clark caught him before he made it. "Alex! Seriously, you do not want to go in there."
He struggled against the hold. "I have to. He needs...."
"He needs everyone to be completely focused on him. Not you, him. You'd only be in the way."
Alex swallowed, forcing his panic back. He stopped struggling. Forced himself to breathe. "What. Happened?" he asked, words bitten off.
Clark's hold loosened. "Don't know. Got jumped." He tugged Alex away.
"How bad is it?"
"Bad. Got a finger cut off. He came in without his pants, blood coming out of his ass. He gained consciousness right as they brought him in, threw up, and passed out again."
"Raped?" There was a sour taste in his mouth.
Clark shook his head. "Don't know."
"Fuck." Alex stepped away from Clark. Rested his head on the windows looking into his room. "Fuck."
"Look, I know you..."
"The warden wanted me to keep an eye out for him. Thought he'd be vulnerable to attack. To something like this." He snorted. "Bang up job I did."
"The kid never shoulda been pushed out into Gen Pop with that cold. It's spreading like wildfire out there, no wonder you got it. He's in your cell. Sneezing all over you. They should have waited until he was better so you wouldn't have gotten sick too."
Alex sneezed.
"Go back to bed, Alex. You won't help him any by getting sick."
He shook his head. "I can't. I need to know he's okay."
Clark sighed. "Look. The doc said I wasn't supposed to let you out of the room Didn't want you panicking. I shoulda cuffed you the minute you came out, but I get it. You feel protective for the kid. I don't blame you. What happened to him is fucked up. But you're not doing anyone any good standing in the hall in your PJs. Go inside. Calm down. The doc'll get you when he's done."
He was about to decline when a fit of coughing overtook him. He bent double, hacking, wheezing. When he finally stopped, he straightened and, without a word, went back to his room.
Three agonizing hours later, Dr. Parsons came into his room. Three hours of bad cartoons, tasteless food, and a knot in his stomach that wouldn't come undone.
Parsons had blood on his normally white coat and his shirt. His face was haggard and tired and he rubbed his head wearily.
Alex was off the bed like a shot. "I want to see him."
Parsons nodded. "He's asleep. Likely to be asleep for some time. We had to do surgery to reattach his finger."
"What finger, what hand?" Alex demanded as he followed Parsons out of the room.
"The little finger on his right hand. It was severed in two separate places. The tip was taken off, and then below the second knuckle. He should regain full use of it, with physical therapy and time." Parsons sighed. Pushed the door to Michael's room open.
"Fuck," Alex breathed. He crossed the room quickly, heart pounding in his throat.
Michael was lying on right side, curled into the fetal position. His face was a mask of black and blue, swollen and bulgy. Oxygen tubes were in each swollen nostril, behind his ears, across stitched cheeks. His right hand was wrapped in gauze and pressed against his chest, cradled in relative safety. He was breathing slowly, shallowly. He looked pale, wasted, and so incredibly vulnerable.
"What else?" Alex found a chair and sank into it. There seemed to be no safe place to touch Michael, but he finally covered the Michael's left hand with his and squeezed.
"Alex. I really shouldn't..."
"Fuck what you should do, tell me!"
He sighed. "Except for the swelling and contusions, his face is fine. Oh, the uh, the stitches. His attacker had a shank and used it to slice up his face, neck, and body. There shouldn't be any noticeable scarring; I did the stitches as small as I could. There were a few cuts around the base of his penis. And, uh. Around the opening of his anus."
Alex stiffened. "Around where?" he asked, voice low.
"Alex..."
"I am going to kill the son of a bitch who did this."
"Alex..."
"Who did this to him?"
Parsons cleared his throat. "He has a broken rib. We've got him on pain killers and an anti-inflammatory. When he wakes up, he'll be as high as a kite. Tomorrow morning, he'll be taken to the local hospital for an MRI to make sure none of his internal organs were damaged."
"What if they were? He's going to have to until morning to find out? What if his spleen was ruptured? You going to let him die just because he's a con and not worth anything?"
Without noticing, he'd back Parsons against the wall. His fists were clenched, ready to attack, ready to pound this man for not taking care of Michael better. For keeping him in the infirmary, keeping him away from Michael. For allowing this to happen.
"Alex," Parsons said. "Please. Calm down."
"You want me to calm down?" Alex grabbed his coat.
"If you don't, I'll have to call a guard. They will beat you, cuff you, lock you away and you won't be able to be with Michael. Think of Michael, Alex. He needs you here with him. He's going to need you."
Michael. Right.
He forced himself to breath. To let go of Parsons's coat. To step away and go back to Michael. "Who did this?"
"I don't really know."
"Michael didn't say?"
"No."
"Doc!" someone called from the hall. "Need you."
Parsons sighed. "I'll be back, Alex. Don't... I trust you, never mind." He stepped out of the room and closed the door.
Alex pulled his chair close to the bed. Stroked Michael's hand with his fingertips. Thought about moving to his face, but was afraid it would hurt too much. Right now, his left hand seemed the only part not injured.
The door opened again. Alex glanced over to see the warden walk in.
"The doctor gave me the run down earlier," he said in lieu of greeting. "I knew you'd probably force you way in here."
He didn't answer. Turned back to Michael. Squeezed his hand.
"Depending on what happens tomorrow at the hospital, I'm thinking of moving Michael to the psych ward during his recovery. It'd be more comfortable than here, and he'll be separated from any dangerous patients. It's a more hospital-like environment. Trauma counseling."
"Will I be allowed to see him?"
"We'll see. If it aids his recovery."
Alex chewed on his lower lip. "And after?"
"After?"
"Will he return to Gen Pop?"
The warden rubbed his chin. "I've yet to decide. His attackers are in segregated housing for now. I'm considering permanently segregating them from Gen Pop. This is... unacceptable. Every prison has its share of problems and it's impossible to stop everything, but this...."
"Who did it?"
"No." The warden shook his head decisively. "Absolutely not. I am not allowing you to get involved in some war with anyone at this prison. You have enough problems as it is."
He tightened his hand around Michael's. "He's going to want his brother."
"I'll call him. Have him meet Michael at the hospital tomorrow." The warden sighed. "I'm sorry, Alex."
He didn't answer.
The warden stood there a few moments longer before he quietly left.
Alex lay his head on the bed next to Michael's and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. This time he did reached out and very gently touch the side of Michael's battered face. "I'm so, so sorry." Wrapping his hand around Michael's again, he closed his eyes.
He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until soft caresses drew him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times. They felt gummy, swollen. His throat ached and chest was clogged. A few harsh coughs cleared that. Still coughing, he sat up, turned away. Found a tissue in his pocket and spit.
When he turned, a pair of bright blue eyes were on him.
"You're awake," he said. He touched Michael's forehead and dragged his fingers along it.
"Am I?" Michael rasped. He blinked. Coughed lightly. "I don't feel awake. I'm all... gone." He closed his eyes. Opened again. "Am I awake?"
"Yes, you are. It's the pain killers. It can cause disconnect." As gently as possible, he stroked along Michael's jaw. "I'm so sorry."
Michael frowned. "You didn't do anything."
"I wasn't there."
"It wouldn't have mattered. You would have been hurt too." He was talking slowly, taking a breath between almost each word. "They were waiting. For me to be alone." He swallowed. Uncurled his legs, stretching them out. "It would have happened. Eventually."
Alex shook his head. Grasped Michael's hand. "I wouldn't have let it."
Michael smiled. "My knight." Then his smile melted away. Tears flooded his eyes, poured down his cheeks. "I was so scared."
"Move over."
He obeyed, squirming back until there was enough room for Alex to squeeze onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around Michael. Held him tightly, rubbing his back with soothing circles.
"I couldn't stop them. I tried, but couldn't. Don't even know how... how many there were. Just Nicky, he was the main one. And he was so angry. Like I'd... I'd done something to Ricky. Like he was jealous." He clung to Alex's pajama top with his good hand, the injured one still pressed against his chest. "He just wouldn't stop. Kept hurting me. Cutting me. So angry. It was personal, not even... Abruzzi was business." Coughed. Pressed his face into Alex's chest. "This was... so violent. Angry. Hurtful. What did I do?"
"Nothing, Michael. This wasn't your fault."
"The art teacher. She kept me after class. Wants to represent me. Sell my art. I was sitting next to him during class. I got his brother sick. And he... he..." Violent shudders overtook him. He coughed a couple times. Then, quiet suddenly, he pushed Alex away. Sat up and vomited.
Alex went for the door. Threw it open and stuck his head out. "Doctor Parsons!"
One of the nurses came out of the next room. "Is Michael awake?"
"Yeah. He just threw up."
She called something back into the room, then came down the hall. "Doctor called me in from psych ward to help out here. With him. Thought it'd be easier on him to deal with a female," she said briskly as she passed Alex.
Michael was still sitting up. He hadn't leaned over the side in time, so the blanket on him was covered in vomit. His body trembled uncontrollably, tears still streaming nonstop from his eyes.
"Michael, my name is Rose. The doctor will be in a minute." She opened a locked drawer across the room. Pulled out a hypodermic needle and checked the labeling. "I'm going to give you something to help you calm down. Right now, I need you to breathe. All right? Can you take a deep breath for me?" She went to the IV stand and injected the sedative into the IV.
"Hurts."
"I know, you have a broken rib. But you still need to breathe. In through your nose, out your mouth. You can do that, right?"
"No."
"Michael." Alex stepped to the bed and took his hand. "Breathe?"
Chin trembling, Michael inhaled shallowly. Blew the air out.
"Good job," Rose said. "Okay, babe, lay back."
He shook his head.
"Michael, please," Alex begged.
"Hurts."
"On a scale from one to ten, Michael, how bad would you say the pain is?"
"I don't... know, I don't... feel it, but it's there, I know it's going to hurt, I'm just..." He trailed off, eyelids drooping. He exhaled slowly. Lay back on the bed, eyes half-lidded.
Rose let out a breath of her own. "Michael, I'm going to take the blanket off you. I need to get a clean one."
"Okay." His breathing was slower now. More evenly.
Feeling a little drained, Alex sat down in the chair. Michael tightened his grip around Alex's hand. "Don't leave me," he said.
Alex shook his head. "Wild horses."
Rose brought another blanket in and tucked it around Michael. She also had another hospital gown, which she helped Michael change in to. As she cleaned Michael up, Parsons came back in.
"Sorry I wasn't here sooner," he said. "I had another emergency patient. Not nearly as bad as you, Michael, but I was... Anyway. How are you feeling, Michael?"
"I don't know."
"Are you in any pain?"
"I don't know."
Parsons nodded. "All right, this is up to you, Michael. I could your injuries right now, or you sleep, relax a little, and we'll talk later. What do you feel up to?"
More tears fell. "My finger. I can't." He lifted bandaged hand.
"We've reattached your finger. Both parts that were cut off. There should be no reason you don't regain full use of it."
"My..." He blushed. Shifted.
"There were a few cuts around your anus. Most were superficial, but one was very deep. I had to place a few stitches in that one, so we'll keep you on stool softeners for the next few weeks. You've got a couple broken ribs on your right side. The danger with broken ribs is it hurts to breathe. Lay on that side as much as you can to help alleviate the pain a bit. The danger with broken ribs is that you won't get the air you need. There's also a danger of pneumonia or partial collapse of the lung. You're on pain medication and anti-inflammatory medication, which should help, but I need you to do your best to take deep breaths. At least once an hour, you need to take the absolute deepest breath you can to exercise your lungs."
Michael blinked. "What about one of those breathing things? Like after surgery?"
"I don't have one here, but I can get one if that will help you remember to breathe."
"Okay." His hand tightened around Alex's.
"Tomorrow we're going to take you to the hospital for an MRI. We need to make sure none of your internal organs are damaged. If you start feeling sick, throw up any more, whatever, tell someone and we'll take you sooner."
He nodded. "Can Alex stay with me?"
Parsons sighed. "I'll see what I can do. The warden wants you isolated from everyone right now, but Alex is... different." He rubbed his hands over his head. "Oh. The warden called your brother. He said that you can call and speak with him, too. I'll have a phone brought in here."
Michael nodded again. His eyelids were drooping, breathing slowed.
"I think that's enough," Alex said.
Parsons nodded. "I agree. Alex, your dinner will be brought soon. I'll have the guard bring your belongings here. Make sure he sleeps. Someone will be checking in soon."
"Thanks."
The doctor and nurse left, and they were alone once more.
"Are you going to be okay?" Alex asked. He sat on the bed again and put his arm around Michael.
"I don't know." He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Not right now."
Alex kissed his forehead. "That's fine." He squeezed Michael's hand. "I'll be here, you know that? I promise."
"I know." Michael closed his eyes. A moment later, his breathing was steady and slow, safely asleep.
Carefully, Alex leaned back, cradling Michael against him. As he caressed Michael's arm soothingly and listened to him breath, Alex began to plot his revenge against Nicky Esposito.
Author:
serafina20Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Summary: Four months into his sentence for the murder of Oscar Shales, Alexander Mahone gets a new cellie.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Daytime TV remained as uninteresting as ever. Talk shows that made him despair for humanity. Soap operas whose plots were convoluted, unbelievable, and poorly acted. News that informed of nothing. Old sitcoms he had memorized. The only thing Alex found remotely entertaining were reality dating shows, and he felt vaguely dirty for deriving any pleasure from them.
And yet...
He was breathing much better today. He'd been taken off the oxygen, although he was still using albuterol every two hours. And he was tired. He couldn't even muster enough energy to pick up a paperback book. Just lie in bed and watch TV, letting the words wash over him, bored to death.
Around four, that changed. A nurse rushed into his room. Drew the curtains and slammed the door shut behind her as she left.
Interesting.
Alex slipped the oxygen reader from his index finger. Swung his legs over the edge of the bed and into his slippers. Went to the door and opened.
"Alex, get back to bed," Clark, the CO standing guard, snapped.
"Why are you guarding my door, boss?" he asked.
"Get back in there." Clark slammed the door on Alex.
He stepped back. Frowned. Went to the window and pulled the shades.
"Michael." Illness forgotten, malaise and exhaustion gone, Alex burst through the door. Clark, caught off guard, was shoved aside as Alex threw the door open. Ran down the hall to the room across from his.
Clark caught him before he made it. "Alex! Seriously, you do not want to go in there."
He struggled against the hold. "I have to. He needs...."
"He needs everyone to be completely focused on him. Not you, him. You'd only be in the way."
Alex swallowed, forcing his panic back. He stopped struggling. Forced himself to breathe. "What. Happened?" he asked, words bitten off.
Clark's hold loosened. "Don't know. Got jumped." He tugged Alex away.
"How bad is it?"
"Bad. Got a finger cut off. He came in without his pants, blood coming out of his ass. He gained consciousness right as they brought him in, threw up, and passed out again."
"Raped?" There was a sour taste in his mouth.
Clark shook his head. "Don't know."
"Fuck." Alex stepped away from Clark. Rested his head on the windows looking into his room. "Fuck."
"Look, I know you..."
"The warden wanted me to keep an eye out for him. Thought he'd be vulnerable to attack. To something like this." He snorted. "Bang up job I did."
"The kid never shoulda been pushed out into Gen Pop with that cold. It's spreading like wildfire out there, no wonder you got it. He's in your cell. Sneezing all over you. They should have waited until he was better so you wouldn't have gotten sick too."
Alex sneezed.
"Go back to bed, Alex. You won't help him any by getting sick."
He shook his head. "I can't. I need to know he's okay."
Clark sighed. "Look. The doc said I wasn't supposed to let you out of the room Didn't want you panicking. I shoulda cuffed you the minute you came out, but I get it. You feel protective for the kid. I don't blame you. What happened to him is fucked up. But you're not doing anyone any good standing in the hall in your PJs. Go inside. Calm down. The doc'll get you when he's done."
He was about to decline when a fit of coughing overtook him. He bent double, hacking, wheezing. When he finally stopped, he straightened and, without a word, went back to his room.
Three agonizing hours later, Dr. Parsons came into his room. Three hours of bad cartoons, tasteless food, and a knot in his stomach that wouldn't come undone.
Parsons had blood on his normally white coat and his shirt. His face was haggard and tired and he rubbed his head wearily.
Alex was off the bed like a shot. "I want to see him."
Parsons nodded. "He's asleep. Likely to be asleep for some time. We had to do surgery to reattach his finger."
"What finger, what hand?" Alex demanded as he followed Parsons out of the room.
"The little finger on his right hand. It was severed in two separate places. The tip was taken off, and then below the second knuckle. He should regain full use of it, with physical therapy and time." Parsons sighed. Pushed the door to Michael's room open.
"Fuck," Alex breathed. He crossed the room quickly, heart pounding in his throat.
Michael was lying on right side, curled into the fetal position. His face was a mask of black and blue, swollen and bulgy. Oxygen tubes were in each swollen nostril, behind his ears, across stitched cheeks. His right hand was wrapped in gauze and pressed against his chest, cradled in relative safety. He was breathing slowly, shallowly. He looked pale, wasted, and so incredibly vulnerable.
"What else?" Alex found a chair and sank into it. There seemed to be no safe place to touch Michael, but he finally covered the Michael's left hand with his and squeezed.
"Alex. I really shouldn't..."
"Fuck what you should do, tell me!"
He sighed. "Except for the swelling and contusions, his face is fine. Oh, the uh, the stitches. His attacker had a shank and used it to slice up his face, neck, and body. There shouldn't be any noticeable scarring; I did the stitches as small as I could. There were a few cuts around the base of his penis. And, uh. Around the opening of his anus."
Alex stiffened. "Around where?" he asked, voice low.
"Alex..."
"I am going to kill the son of a bitch who did this."
"Alex..."
"Who did this to him?"
Parsons cleared his throat. "He has a broken rib. We've got him on pain killers and an anti-inflammatory. When he wakes up, he'll be as high as a kite. Tomorrow morning, he'll be taken to the local hospital for an MRI to make sure none of his internal organs were damaged."
"What if they were? He's going to have to until morning to find out? What if his spleen was ruptured? You going to let him die just because he's a con and not worth anything?"
Without noticing, he'd back Parsons against the wall. His fists were clenched, ready to attack, ready to pound this man for not taking care of Michael better. For keeping him in the infirmary, keeping him away from Michael. For allowing this to happen.
"Alex," Parsons said. "Please. Calm down."
"You want me to calm down?" Alex grabbed his coat.
"If you don't, I'll have to call a guard. They will beat you, cuff you, lock you away and you won't be able to be with Michael. Think of Michael, Alex. He needs you here with him. He's going to need you."
Michael. Right.
He forced himself to breath. To let go of Parsons's coat. To step away and go back to Michael. "Who did this?"
"I don't really know."
"Michael didn't say?"
"No."
"Doc!" someone called from the hall. "Need you."
Parsons sighed. "I'll be back, Alex. Don't... I trust you, never mind." He stepped out of the room and closed the door.
Alex pulled his chair close to the bed. Stroked Michael's hand with his fingertips. Thought about moving to his face, but was afraid it would hurt too much. Right now, his left hand seemed the only part not injured.
The door opened again. Alex glanced over to see the warden walk in.
"The doctor gave me the run down earlier," he said in lieu of greeting. "I knew you'd probably force you way in here."
He didn't answer. Turned back to Michael. Squeezed his hand.
"Depending on what happens tomorrow at the hospital, I'm thinking of moving Michael to the psych ward during his recovery. It'd be more comfortable than here, and he'll be separated from any dangerous patients. It's a more hospital-like environment. Trauma counseling."
"Will I be allowed to see him?"
"We'll see. If it aids his recovery."
Alex chewed on his lower lip. "And after?"
"After?"
"Will he return to Gen Pop?"
The warden rubbed his chin. "I've yet to decide. His attackers are in segregated housing for now. I'm considering permanently segregating them from Gen Pop. This is... unacceptable. Every prison has its share of problems and it's impossible to stop everything, but this...."
"Who did it?"
"No." The warden shook his head decisively. "Absolutely not. I am not allowing you to get involved in some war with anyone at this prison. You have enough problems as it is."
He tightened his hand around Michael's. "He's going to want his brother."
"I'll call him. Have him meet Michael at the hospital tomorrow." The warden sighed. "I'm sorry, Alex."
He didn't answer.
The warden stood there a few moments longer before he quietly left.
Alex lay his head on the bed next to Michael's and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. This time he did reached out and very gently touch the side of Michael's battered face. "I'm so, so sorry." Wrapping his hand around Michael's again, he closed his eyes.
He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until soft caresses drew him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times. They felt gummy, swollen. His throat ached and chest was clogged. A few harsh coughs cleared that. Still coughing, he sat up, turned away. Found a tissue in his pocket and spit.
When he turned, a pair of bright blue eyes were on him.
"You're awake," he said. He touched Michael's forehead and dragged his fingers along it.
"Am I?" Michael rasped. He blinked. Coughed lightly. "I don't feel awake. I'm all... gone." He closed his eyes. Opened again. "Am I awake?"
"Yes, you are. It's the pain killers. It can cause disconnect." As gently as possible, he stroked along Michael's jaw. "I'm so sorry."
Michael frowned. "You didn't do anything."
"I wasn't there."
"It wouldn't have mattered. You would have been hurt too." He was talking slowly, taking a breath between almost each word. "They were waiting. For me to be alone." He swallowed. Uncurled his legs, stretching them out. "It would have happened. Eventually."
Alex shook his head. Grasped Michael's hand. "I wouldn't have let it."
Michael smiled. "My knight." Then his smile melted away. Tears flooded his eyes, poured down his cheeks. "I was so scared."
"Move over."
He obeyed, squirming back until there was enough room for Alex to squeeze onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around Michael. Held him tightly, rubbing his back with soothing circles.
"I couldn't stop them. I tried, but couldn't. Don't even know how... how many there were. Just Nicky, he was the main one. And he was so angry. Like I'd... I'd done something to Ricky. Like he was jealous." He clung to Alex's pajama top with his good hand, the injured one still pressed against his chest. "He just wouldn't stop. Kept hurting me. Cutting me. So angry. It was personal, not even... Abruzzi was business." Coughed. Pressed his face into Alex's chest. "This was... so violent. Angry. Hurtful. What did I do?"
"Nothing, Michael. This wasn't your fault."
"The art teacher. She kept me after class. Wants to represent me. Sell my art. I was sitting next to him during class. I got his brother sick. And he... he..." Violent shudders overtook him. He coughed a couple times. Then, quiet suddenly, he pushed Alex away. Sat up and vomited.
Alex went for the door. Threw it open and stuck his head out. "Doctor Parsons!"
One of the nurses came out of the next room. "Is Michael awake?"
"Yeah. He just threw up."
She called something back into the room, then came down the hall. "Doctor called me in from psych ward to help out here. With him. Thought it'd be easier on him to deal with a female," she said briskly as she passed Alex.
Michael was still sitting up. He hadn't leaned over the side in time, so the blanket on him was covered in vomit. His body trembled uncontrollably, tears still streaming nonstop from his eyes.
"Michael, my name is Rose. The doctor will be in a minute." She opened a locked drawer across the room. Pulled out a hypodermic needle and checked the labeling. "I'm going to give you something to help you calm down. Right now, I need you to breathe. All right? Can you take a deep breath for me?" She went to the IV stand and injected the sedative into the IV.
"Hurts."
"I know, you have a broken rib. But you still need to breathe. In through your nose, out your mouth. You can do that, right?"
"No."
"Michael." Alex stepped to the bed and took his hand. "Breathe?"
Chin trembling, Michael inhaled shallowly. Blew the air out.
"Good job," Rose said. "Okay, babe, lay back."
He shook his head.
"Michael, please," Alex begged.
"Hurts."
"On a scale from one to ten, Michael, how bad would you say the pain is?"
"I don't... know, I don't... feel it, but it's there, I know it's going to hurt, I'm just..." He trailed off, eyelids drooping. He exhaled slowly. Lay back on the bed, eyes half-lidded.
Rose let out a breath of her own. "Michael, I'm going to take the blanket off you. I need to get a clean one."
"Okay." His breathing was slower now. More evenly.
Feeling a little drained, Alex sat down in the chair. Michael tightened his grip around Alex's hand. "Don't leave me," he said.
Alex shook his head. "Wild horses."
Rose brought another blanket in and tucked it around Michael. She also had another hospital gown, which she helped Michael change in to. As she cleaned Michael up, Parsons came back in.
"Sorry I wasn't here sooner," he said. "I had another emergency patient. Not nearly as bad as you, Michael, but I was... Anyway. How are you feeling, Michael?"
"I don't know."
"Are you in any pain?"
"I don't know."
Parsons nodded. "All right, this is up to you, Michael. I could your injuries right now, or you sleep, relax a little, and we'll talk later. What do you feel up to?"
More tears fell. "My finger. I can't." He lifted bandaged hand.
"We've reattached your finger. Both parts that were cut off. There should be no reason you don't regain full use of it."
"My..." He blushed. Shifted.
"There were a few cuts around your anus. Most were superficial, but one was very deep. I had to place a few stitches in that one, so we'll keep you on stool softeners for the next few weeks. You've got a couple broken ribs on your right side. The danger with broken ribs is it hurts to breathe. Lay on that side as much as you can to help alleviate the pain a bit. The danger with broken ribs is that you won't get the air you need. There's also a danger of pneumonia or partial collapse of the lung. You're on pain medication and anti-inflammatory medication, which should help, but I need you to do your best to take deep breaths. At least once an hour, you need to take the absolute deepest breath you can to exercise your lungs."
Michael blinked. "What about one of those breathing things? Like after surgery?"
"I don't have one here, but I can get one if that will help you remember to breathe."
"Okay." His hand tightened around Alex's.
"Tomorrow we're going to take you to the hospital for an MRI. We need to make sure none of your internal organs are damaged. If you start feeling sick, throw up any more, whatever, tell someone and we'll take you sooner."
He nodded. "Can Alex stay with me?"
Parsons sighed. "I'll see what I can do. The warden wants you isolated from everyone right now, but Alex is... different." He rubbed his hands over his head. "Oh. The warden called your brother. He said that you can call and speak with him, too. I'll have a phone brought in here."
Michael nodded again. His eyelids were drooping, breathing slowed.
"I think that's enough," Alex said.
Parsons nodded. "I agree. Alex, your dinner will be brought soon. I'll have the guard bring your belongings here. Make sure he sleeps. Someone will be checking in soon."
"Thanks."
The doctor and nurse left, and they were alone once more.
"Are you going to be okay?" Alex asked. He sat on the bed again and put his arm around Michael.
"I don't know." He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Not right now."
Alex kissed his forehead. "That's fine." He squeezed Michael's hand. "I'll be here, you know that? I promise."
"I know." Michael closed his eyes. A moment later, his breathing was steady and slow, safely asleep.
Carefully, Alex leaned back, cradling Michael against him. As he caressed Michael's arm soothingly and listened to him breath, Alex began to plot his revenge against Nicky Esposito.
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Nicky Esposito is totally going down!
Alex, is going to have to make Michael feel beautiful/handsome again - I can't wait for that section.
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Thank you.
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Love this chapter, very descriptive and informing really, not much for plot development but that default info chapter. And you did it so nicely and heartfelt.
Wild horses couldn't keep me away from this fic.
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Linc and Alex will take care of him.
Thank you!
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(Anonymous) 2007-02-08 08:16 am (UTC)(link)I loved how you played that scene out. I can hardly wait for the next chapter to read the conversation between Lincoln and Michael and to see Alex exact revenge some form of vengence. I hope that his revenge shows that he undestands the difference between what he is doing (protection) and what they did (brutal attack) and that he won't allow himself to cross the line from one to the other. I love how well you have set it up in this regard (i.e. having their attack on Michael be motivated by a desire for revenge for Ricky and now having Alex desiring revenge for Michael) You have me hooked. Will he cross that line? Where does he think the line is? Or hell, does he think there is a line?
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He's not quite sure what he's going to do at this point, but he won't do anything to lose Michael's respect. If he loses Michael for the same reasons he lost Pam, it just won't be worth it. :)
Thanks!
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I just hope he doesn't regret telling Alex who was responsible. Mind you, Alex would have found out one way or the other. This is some heavy stuff, well done. Oh and Happy Belated Birthday by the way!
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Yeah, he didn't really think about what he was saying. He was in the middle of a panic attack, drugged to the gills, so...
Thanks for the birthday wishes!
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Alex's reaction was just... splendid. I felt so sorry for both of them! And so happy that they allowed Alex to stay by his side. :) The doctor and the warden are such a good guys. If the warden was similar to this one from 2x13 it would be much, much worse.
:D
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They are good guys. Prison corruption has been done by so many people, I want people who care about their jobs and want to do what's best for the inmates. (Like Pope, I guess, but more aware of his staff)
Thank you!
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Thank you! Wentworth Miller does such a good job of layering Michael himself, that I'm trying to write Michael as complex as what is on screen. I'm glad you think I"m doing a good job. :)
Thank you!
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When Alex does hold Esposito to account for such a violent attack on Michael I kind of imagine it will as much of a psychological assualt as a physical one because Alex is too clever and too calculating for the likes of Nicky and will not resort to blind brutality.
Oh, and poor Michael! Glad the doc could re-attach his pinky finger and he really does need Alex with him right now. Eeeek! Lincoln is likely to be bloody angry!
I love this fic so much I'm going to have delirium tremens while I wait for the next chapter!
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I had such a hard time posting the last two chapters there. I'm glad you followed the story over here. :)
Thank you so much!!
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So I thank you!!
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I'm looking forward for Linc's reaction:)
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Very cute chapter. *squishes Alex and Michael* *squishes the warden and the doctor for being awesome and allowing Alex to stay with Michael* *squishes you for writing another excellent chapter* Wonderful stuff :)
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I can't wait to read how Alex gets revenge.