Prison Break - Six Past Midnight in a Jail
Title: Six Past Midnight in a Jail
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Ensemble
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: He can distinctly hear the click of the clock hand when it hits six past midnight.
Notes: Thanks to torigates for her help with the translation ( original version). Prompt/title by alohomoraa.
Charles Patoshik is lost in a labyrinth of blue-green ink riddled with electric flashes, and he sits up screaming. While two guards hold him down on the bed, the night nurse does his best to inject him a sedative and he watches him slipping into unconsciousness. Once again, he regrets that the events occurring in Gen Pop get to the residents of the Psych Ward.
Charles Westmoreland closes his eyes and seeks comfort in the idea that he did everything he could to help the kid. He rolls over; rearranges the hard, flat pillow; rolls over again; opens his eyes.
LJ Burrows struggles against Nick as the man tries to hold him tight. He wants his mother, he wants his father and if not, he wants Veronica. But since he can’t have any of them, he finally accepts the idea to rely on a quasi-stranger to cry and be comforted.
Theodore Bagwell is lying in his bed, an arm under his head, staring at the ceiling, and he considers his options. He wonders what the Fish intends to do about the escape now, and he contemplates the various compensations he could get if the whole thing fizzled out. The big brother out of the picture... Theodore would almost, almost, wish that he had to be content with the aforementioned compensations.
Fernando Sucre is sitting on his bunk, his legs dangling freely, and he’s wondering what the heck he’s going to tell to Michael when his cellmate comes back. He really has no idea of how one might have the slightest inspiration for comforting words in such circumstances.
Sara Tancredi is on her knees in the small restroom stall, vomiting in the toilet the half apple she managed to eat as a dinner. Her stomach twists in protest, she can feel sweat on her forehead and, all things considered, she didn’t feel that bad since the withdrawal before her rehab three years ago. Her attitude isn’t professional at all. But a doctor assisting a perfectly healthy man to die? It isn’t ethical.
Paul Kellerman is reflecting upon the content of the suitcase he will be packing up for this week of holidays; he’s been waiting that moment for three years. He just thinks about it, he won’t do anything as long as he hasn’t received the phone call he’s waiting for. He’s not a superstitious guy - he would need a bit more beliefs to be superstitious - but he won’t tempt fate.
Henry Pope leans up against the wall, allegedly to let the guards untie Burrows, but actually because the room is spinning around him. He can still feel the shape of the phone in his palm. He wonders why he’s coming here each and every day. He wonders what happened to the kid who fancied himself as a private eye solving mysteries and protecting the widow and the orphan.
Veronica Donovan clutches Michael’s wrist and digs her nails into his flesh. If someone doesn’t say something very, very soon, she’s going to yell or maybe beat up that guard who won’t let her cross the hallway to the execution chamber.
Keith Stolte and Louis Patterson can’t quite look at each other while they undo each on his side, the leather ties holding Burrows to the chair. They can’t quite look at Burrows either, by the way.
Terrence Steadman considers the time difference with Illinois and concludes that the deal is done now. He asks for strawberry... or rather apricot Jell-O. He’d be curious to know whether Caroline will visit him as often as she used to.
Samantha Brinkner listens for the second time to the short but devastating phone conversation that has just been recorded between judge Kessler and Warden Pope. Just in the highly improbable case she totally misunderstood something the first time. Just to delay for a few more seconds this phone call she has to make.
Brad Bellick unfastens the bonds and takes the electrodes off of Burrows' skull. He’s a bit surprised when he sees that his hands are imperceptibly shaking. He hopes that nobody else noticed that; he guesses that Burrows has other things going on his mind right now.
Caroline Reynolds is at her desk in her private apartments, wearing her pajamas, and she’s reading some bullshit of a report regarding alternative energies. A tea with a touch of honey sits next to her because she has a sore throat tonight and in a few hours, she will have an important allocution to deliver. She waits for the phone to ring and someone confirm Burrows’ execution. She waits. Waits. Waits.
Aldo Burrows closes the car door and takes ten seconds to breathe and pull himself together. Then he turns the engine on to get the hell out of here before someone understands who he is.
Lincoln Burrows doesn’t feel the ties, binds and belts that are unknotted one after another. All he can feel is the hard wood beneath his fingers and something loudly knocking in his chest; he needs a while to figure out that the weird sound is his heartbeat. For a few seconds, he can’t feel his legs either, and Patterson and Stolte must help him up.
Michael Scofield breathes in. The heavy, fouled air of the visitation room finally gets into his lungs as he tries hard not to pay attention to the cold and unpleasant sweat that covers his skin and makes his clothes cling to his body. He can distinctly hear the click of the clock hand when it hits six past midnight and he realizes that he’s needed several minutes to come back to reality. The wheels of his brain start again and he thinks about what can... what must be done now.
-END-
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Ensemble
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: He can distinctly hear the click of the clock hand when it hits six past midnight.
Notes: Thanks to torigates for her help with the translation ( original version). Prompt/title by alohomoraa.
Charles Patoshik is lost in a labyrinth of blue-green ink riddled with electric flashes, and he sits up screaming. While two guards hold him down on the bed, the night nurse does his best to inject him a sedative and he watches him slipping into unconsciousness. Once again, he regrets that the events occurring in Gen Pop get to the residents of the Psych Ward.
Charles Westmoreland closes his eyes and seeks comfort in the idea that he did everything he could to help the kid. He rolls over; rearranges the hard, flat pillow; rolls over again; opens his eyes.
LJ Burrows struggles against Nick as the man tries to hold him tight. He wants his mother, he wants his father and if not, he wants Veronica. But since he can’t have any of them, he finally accepts the idea to rely on a quasi-stranger to cry and be comforted.
Theodore Bagwell is lying in his bed, an arm under his head, staring at the ceiling, and he considers his options. He wonders what the Fish intends to do about the escape now, and he contemplates the various compensations he could get if the whole thing fizzled out. The big brother out of the picture... Theodore would almost, almost, wish that he had to be content with the aforementioned compensations.
Fernando Sucre is sitting on his bunk, his legs dangling freely, and he’s wondering what the heck he’s going to tell to Michael when his cellmate comes back. He really has no idea of how one might have the slightest inspiration for comforting words in such circumstances.
Sara Tancredi is on her knees in the small restroom stall, vomiting in the toilet the half apple she managed to eat as a dinner. Her stomach twists in protest, she can feel sweat on her forehead and, all things considered, she didn’t feel that bad since the withdrawal before her rehab three years ago. Her attitude isn’t professional at all. But a doctor assisting a perfectly healthy man to die? It isn’t ethical.
Paul Kellerman is reflecting upon the content of the suitcase he will be packing up for this week of holidays; he’s been waiting that moment for three years. He just thinks about it, he won’t do anything as long as he hasn’t received the phone call he’s waiting for. He’s not a superstitious guy - he would need a bit more beliefs to be superstitious - but he won’t tempt fate.
Henry Pope leans up against the wall, allegedly to let the guards untie Burrows, but actually because the room is spinning around him. He can still feel the shape of the phone in his palm. He wonders why he’s coming here each and every day. He wonders what happened to the kid who fancied himself as a private eye solving mysteries and protecting the widow and the orphan.
Veronica Donovan clutches Michael’s wrist and digs her nails into his flesh. If someone doesn’t say something very, very soon, she’s going to yell or maybe beat up that guard who won’t let her cross the hallway to the execution chamber.
Keith Stolte and Louis Patterson can’t quite look at each other while they undo each on his side, the leather ties holding Burrows to the chair. They can’t quite look at Burrows either, by the way.
Terrence Steadman considers the time difference with Illinois and concludes that the deal is done now. He asks for strawberry... or rather apricot Jell-O. He’d be curious to know whether Caroline will visit him as often as she used to.
Samantha Brinkner listens for the second time to the short but devastating phone conversation that has just been recorded between judge Kessler and Warden Pope. Just in the highly improbable case she totally misunderstood something the first time. Just to delay for a few more seconds this phone call she has to make.
Brad Bellick unfastens the bonds and takes the electrodes off of Burrows' skull. He’s a bit surprised when he sees that his hands are imperceptibly shaking. He hopes that nobody else noticed that; he guesses that Burrows has other things going on his mind right now.
Caroline Reynolds is at her desk in her private apartments, wearing her pajamas, and she’s reading some bullshit of a report regarding alternative energies. A tea with a touch of honey sits next to her because she has a sore throat tonight and in a few hours, she will have an important allocution to deliver. She waits for the phone to ring and someone confirm Burrows’ execution. She waits. Waits. Waits.
Aldo Burrows closes the car door and takes ten seconds to breathe and pull himself together. Then he turns the engine on to get the hell out of here before someone understands who he is.
Lincoln Burrows doesn’t feel the ties, binds and belts that are unknotted one after another. All he can feel is the hard wood beneath his fingers and something loudly knocking in his chest; he needs a while to figure out that the weird sound is his heartbeat. For a few seconds, he can’t feel his legs either, and Patterson and Stolte must help him up.
Michael Scofield breathes in. The heavy, fouled air of the visitation room finally gets into his lungs as he tries hard not to pay attention to the cold and unpleasant sweat that covers his skin and makes his clothes cling to his body. He can distinctly hear the click of the clock hand when it hits six past midnight and he realizes that he’s needed several minutes to come back to reality. The wheels of his brain start again and he thinks about what can... what must be done now.
-END-