Fic: Cellie

[serafina20]

Title: Cellie
Author: serafina20
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Summary: Four months into his sentence for the murder of Oscar Shales, Alexander Mahone gets a new cellie.



"You know I only have ten months left on my sentence," Travis said, setting the book he'd been pretending to read down.

Alex glanced at him over the top of his glasses. "No, I didn't know that. Congratulations." He lowered his eyes back to his book.

"It's weird. I've been here four years. It'll be different outside."

He sighed and set his book down. "But good. You're young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You've managed to make a significant breakthrough, and are working through the issues that got you in here. It might not be easy, but it'll be worth it."

Travis heaved a sigh. Practically draped himself over the table, arms stretched out so his hands brushed against Alex's arms. He looked up at Alex through his eyelashes, lips pressed into a pout. "But you'll still be in here. I'll miss you. You're, like, my rock, you know? If it wasn't for you, I'd never have told anyone that had happened to me. What my stepfather did. And they'd never have gotten me help and..." Travis shrugged. "You just mean a lot."

The kid was annoying in his persistence. He hadn't ever come out and stated his attraction to Alex, but it was very obvious. The kid wore his heart on his sleeve, and he was a little coquette. Flirty and manipulative in a way that Alex hated.

"You can still visit. And write. But you'll do fine." Alex picked up his book again, hoping that Travis would take the point.

For a moment, it looked like he did. And then, Travis moved his chair closer to Alex. Leaned close. "Look," he said in a voice that was nearly a whisper. "I've been waiting to get you alone for awhile. Without Michael around. Because, I know he's your cellmate, and you two have a lot of history and all, but... come on. Alex. I know you." He put his hand on Alex's leg. "I want you. I understand why we couldn't before, but now..."

"Michael and I are getting married," Alex said. He shifted away. "So, yes, we have a history. And a future. While I think you're a nice kid, that's all. And all it ever will be."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but..."

"No buts. I love Michael. I..."

"Yo, Mahone."

Alex turned. A guard was in the doorway, beckoning.

"I'll see you later, Travis." He stood and went to the guard. "What is it?"

"Don't know. Got a call, said Doc needed you in the infirmary."

"Is something wrong with Michael?"

The guard shrugged. "Don't know. Probably. Always seems to be something with him. They should move him back to Gen Pop where he belongs."

Alex shook his head. "He doesn't belong in Gen Pop. He doesn't belong here at all."

"Whatever."

Alex was led to the infirmary wing. His heart was pounding by the time he reached it, palms sweating. Something was wrong. Unless this was about him--which he doubted; his health was just fine at the moment--something must have happened to Michael. Not knowing drove him crazy.

"Sit." The guard pointed to a seat.

Alex dropped into it.

"Stay." And then, without a further word, he just walked away.

Alex resisted the urge to tackle the man to the floor and beat him senseless. He wasn't a dog, but he wasn't an animal either. So, he stayed in his seat, fists clenched against his thighs. Waiting.

It took ten minutes. No one bothered to go tell Dr. Parsons Alex was there. He finally stormed into the main room, annoyance clearly scrawled across his face. When he saw Alex, he stopped short.

"When did you get here?"

"A few minutes ago."

"Why didn't anyone tell me? I've been banging my head against the wall and... Never mind. Come on." He turned on his heel and headed back to the room he'd just left.

"What's going on?" Alex demanded, following.

"Wilson found Michael in the room the art teacher set aside for him to work. He was alone, but had a bruise on the side of his face. He was also hunched over, breathing labored. He's got a huge bruise across his abdomen, but he won't tell us who did it."

Alex's jaw tightened. "Wilson must have let someone in. He's the one to ask."

Dr. Parson's shook his head. "Wilson was passing by. Thought he'd check and see if Michael was in there. Kid's graduating from college and he wants a picture done. Nelson was supposed to be guarding Michael. The warden's not here, so the head CO is questioning him. Michael isn't telling me anything. I thought you might help."

"Yeah. No problem. But alone? Please?"

"Yeah, of course. Just don't... Never mind. I trust you." He stopped in front of a room. Unlocked the door. "Okay. Just... Call me when you're done. I'll be out here as much as possible."

"Thanks, Doc." Alex opened the door and went inside.

It wasn't as bad as he thought. Michael had a bruised cheek and a little swelling around his eye. His arm was across his stomach and he was hunched over, but nothing to bad. Nothing like... like before.

Relief made Alex dizzy.

"Hey," he said when he felt he could talk. He climbed onto exam table next to Michael. Took his hand. "How are you?"

Michael snorted. Rolled his eyes. Said nothing.

Okay then. He was on the defensive. Waiting to be told to tell who'd hurt him. Ready to refuse. Which mean, Alex had to get him comfortable first. Get him relaxed.

Chat him up. So, he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Travis hit on me."

Oh, yeah. That'll relax him.

"What did you say?"

"I told him we were getting married. If he tries it again, I will tell him to fuck off."

"You don't have to."

"No, I think I do." Alex rolled his eyes. "If not that, I'll have to find some kind of negative association thing to make him get over it. Spray him in the face with water every time he tries it or something."

"He's not a cat."

"Hit him on the nose with a newspaper?"

That got a laugh. "He's not a puppy."

Alex sighed. "Ten months won't come fast enough. Maybe our commutations will go through before that. Save my sanity."

"Maybe." Michael turned his hand over in Alex's. Threaded their fingers. "I'm not going to tell you what happened."

"Why not?"

"Bad enough I'm in protective seg. I don't..."

"That's bullshit. We've been over this. There's nothing wrong with it. It just means we know how to stay out of trouble and are being rewarded. More freedom. A comfortable couch. Our own yard. It's nice."

"It might not be safe." Michael licked his lips. Looked at Alex. "I don't want to risk... this was just because I said the wrong thing. If I snitch... he might kill me."

"At least now I know it's a he."

Michael rolled his eyes at the poor attempt at humor. "Very funny. Yes, it was a he." He sighed. "I can't tell you. Because he got to me once, and..."

"It was Paul Rossi," Alex interrupted.

"He can get... what?"

He quirked the corner of his mouth. "If it was McNab, you'd be in worse shape. The fight would have been much worse." He touched Michael's face, the side without the bruise. "You would have fought back." He brushed his thumb over Michael's lower lip. "You weren't expecting this. It was Paul."

Michael pressed his lips together. Crossed his arms over his chest. His face took on a very familiar look of stubbornness. The type that appeared on Cameron's face when he didn't want to eat his vegetables.

"What did he want?"

No answer.

Alex thought about what he knew of the mobster. His actions since the whole fiasco had begun. His loyalties. History. Anything he could remember.

And one thing was constant: Ricky.

"He..." Alex frowned. No way. He shook his head, but had to articulate the preposterous thought anyway. "He wants to get to Ricky. He wanted... he wanted you to help you break into the psych ward?"

Michael's eyebrow twitched.

"Why? I mean, no one is that devoted. Not for the mob. It's a job. A life, a family, yeah, but Ricky's fine."

"He tried to kill himself. Clearly your definition of fine is radically different from mine."

Alex rolled is eyes. Squeezed Michael's knee. "He's safe where he is. Safer than he was out here."

Michael rubbed is eyes.

"Why would Paul want to get to him? Unless..." He frowned. "So, you asked if Paul was in love with Ricky, and the homophobe punched you."

"Can we go back to our cell now? I'm tired."

He slid off the exam table and moved to stand between Michael's legs. "You have to tell them what happened. They need to know that one of their guards was bribed. That Paul has more influence around here than he should. That he hurt you."

Michael snorted. "Paul Rossi is mafia. Of course he has more influence around here than he should. Me saying something isn't going to change that. Nothing will. We're in prison, Alex." He met Alex's eyes. "And, believe it or not, prison is a lot like the real world. People are fallible. They're bent, changed to suit those who have power's needs. There's nowhere safe, not truly safe. And if you cross the wrong person, you end up dead." He slid his hands up Alex's arms. "I don't want to end up dead. This? I can handle. Death, I'm not willing to."

Alex closed his eyes as Michael pulled at him. Kissed him, legs hooking behind the backs of Alex's knees.

"I was scared when they brought me here. Afraid..."

"I know. If I tell, it could happen again," Michael whispered. His lips brushed over Alex's jaw. "I just want things to be as easy as they can. Not ruffle any feathers."

"But..."

"Please."

Alex sighed. Rested his forehead against Michael's. "The warden could throw you in the SHU if you don't cooperate. He'll want to know what happened. If you don't..."

Michael pulled back. "Do you honestly think that he'd do that? After everything?"

"Why risk it?"

"Why risk being killed?" Michael kissed him again, then pushed Alex away. "Tell Dr. Parsons I'm not saying anything. And if you tell him anything, I'll just say you're wrong. That you made it up."

"Why are you being so difficult?"

Michael crossed his arms over his chest. Stared at Alex with that stubborn no-vegetables look again.

"Jesus Christ, Michael!"

"Why is it so important to you that I tell? Why can't you just let it be?"

"Because I don't want it to happen again."

"It won't if I don't snitch. When the fuck did you become such a goody two-shoes, Alex? This is about survival, okay? I want to survive. You're convinced we're getting out of here soon, but I'm not so sure. Even if we do get our sentences commuted, who knows when it will happen?" He blinked his eyes, face flushed, lips trembling. "It could be years. You know how the government works. The bureaucracy. It moves slow. So, until we are gone, I'm going to make sure I do everything I can to make sure we're safe."

"But..."

"No."

Alex grabbed Michael by the shoulders. Shook him. "Are you always so stubborn? This stupid?"

Michael knocked Alex's arms away. Scurried off the table, behind it, so it was between the two of them. "Are you really surprised?" he asked. His voice shook. "I broke my brother out of a maximum security prison. I got my fucking toes cut off because I refused to tell Abruzzi where the man who turned him in was. I can keep a secret, Alex. And I will not..."

"You were protecting an innocent man then. This is different."

"Do you really think Paul will be satisfied with a toe when I'm sleeping with the man who killed Abruzzi?" Michael's eyes blazed. His fingers crinkled the paper covering the exam table. "He will *kill* me, Alex. I don't..." His voice caught. "I don't want to die."

Alex's insides turned to mush at the soft, desperate sounding plea. He had to close his eyes. To breathe. To fight the instinct to lock Michael away forever, to keep him hidden while Alex found the nearest weapon and went after every man who posed a danger in the prison. Fight the rage, the overwhelming, dizzying haze brought on by the knowledge that someone could make his love sound that scared, that desperate.

"Alex?"

He pushed away from the table. Pressed his clenched fists into his sides.

Then, soft, even more heartbreaking than the last, "Are you mad at me?"

Alex forcefully exhaled. Opened his eyes. "I want to kill anyone who would hurt you. If Paul was in this room right now, he'd be dead. But you're always safe, Michael. From me. I promise."

"But you're angry with me." Big eyes. Quivering lips. Trembling all over that didn't stop with Alex's assurance. "You don't believe I know what I'm doing."

Dangerous territory. Alex knew it. Dangerous for anyone, but for Michael, doubly so. Alex knew about his condition, knew that if he didn't have at least one person who believed he wasn't crazy, that he knew what he was doing, Michael could lose it. What that entailed, Alex didn't know. But...

"Of course I believe in you, Michael," he said. "I understand why you're scared. Your reasoning. I just... I was so scared."

"I know." He swallowed. "I think this has pushed me back a little. Like... further away from my breakthrough."

Alex couldn't help but laugh. "Two steps back, eh?"

Hesitantly, Michael came from behind the table. Approached Alex with the cautious air of someone approaching an untamed animal. "Maybe one. And a half."

"One and a half. That's not so bad." He held out his hand.

Michael looked at it. Considered it. Took it. "I started a new painting."

"That's good."

"About suicide."

"Yours?"

He shook his head.

"That's something." He pulled Michael to him. "When are you going to do one about us?" He kissed Michael's cheek. "About love?"

Michael sighed. Rested his head in the crook of Alex's neck. "I don't know. Soon."

Alex kissed his head. Stroked Michael's back. "Don't rush yourself. Do it when you're ready. Until then, do what moves you now."

"You move me. Now, then, and always."

He just sighed. Tightened his arms around Michael and rocked him. Slowly, gently, for always.