Prison Break - Kaleidoscope (1/9)
Kaleidoscope
A/N: This story is an ensemble of points of view. They all belong to a same universe but can be read separately. Some parts are gen, others are slash. T-Bag is... T-Bag. Appropriate warnings and ratings will be given for each part.
Initial prompt by camille-miko: Michael/Lincoln. Hope, handcuffs and dream. Bittersweet and kinky. LJ’s take on the situation.
Beta: niennanou ( original version) and recycledfaery (English version). Many thanks to both of them.
Title: Kaleidoscope (1/9)
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Veronica, Michael, Lincoln
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 900
Warnings: None
Summary: She probably knows them better than anybody else and yet, they’re still a mystery to her.
Previous / Next part
Kaleidoscope
The people they know are not always interested in understanding. Some wonder and try to get it with more or less persistence. Most of them don’t pay much attention and they just go with what’s obvious. Occasionally someone does get a hint of that which brings them together, unites them and sometimes sets them apart, but it’s rarely more than a part of the image, a facet, only one of the infinite mirror games of the kaleidoscope.
Veronica
It’s not the first time she’s witnessed it, but she’ll never get used to it. It always leaves a weird taste in her mouth, a mixture of anger, incomprehension and fascination. She probably knows them better than anybody else and yet, they’re still a mystery to her.
This time, it’s because Michael followed Lincoln: Lincoln had told him to wait at their place while he was running an errand, Michael disobeyed; Lincoln found out and of course got mad.
Disobeying Lincoln is never a good idea, Michael should have understood that long ago. And Vee guesses that he did understand it long ago, he just doesn’t care and he acts the way he wants whenever he thinks he’s within his rights or merely feels like it. Or maybe it’s pure and simple provocation on his part; even though Lincoln isn’t aware of it, Veronica is sure that Michael does that.
Lincoln can be quite patient and understanding - weirdly patient and understanding with Michael anyway, not with anybody else - but still, disobeying him isn’t a good idea. Sooner or later comes the moment when he’s at loss for words (and Michael is pretty good to induce that) and when it happens, he hits. He hits because he can’t think of anything else to do, of how to make Michael obey him or make him understand that Lincoln tries to act in his best interests. This is not his favorite way of communication, far from it, and he doesn’t make a habit of it, but it has happened a few times. Usually because Michael has been hanging out with the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong time. He learned at his own expense that “But they’re your buddies too, Linc!” wasn’t a valid argument. Actually, this argument never fails to arouse Lincoln’s anger. Do as I say, not do as I do. It usually ends up with a wigging and a lecture reminding Michael that he’s better than that, a thought that Veronica can only second.
“You know you’re better than that,” Lincoln murmurs. There’s guilt and regret in his voice as well as a remaining hint of anger. Michael willingly complies when Lincoln grabs his chin and turns his face towards the light to inspect the damage. He leans into Lincoln’s familiar, almost ritual gesture. “Come on,” Lincoln says, “let’s take care of this.”
Vee stands in the bathroom doorway while Lincoln closes the toilet seat and sits and Michael settles on the edge of the tub. She watches them, her arms crossed and eyebrows knitted, and shakes her head.
“He should go to the hospital, Lincoln.”
“I’m fine,’” Michael answers quickly before his brother can even open his mouth to speak. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Of course it doesn’t. There are a few advantages into getting a beating from someone who, depending on the current mood, can either not really hurt you or inflict the maximum amount of damage. Michael points out that it’s not so bad and he’s right, just a bit of blood on his forehead. Doesn’t even come from one of Lincoln’s blows, not directly anyway - he cut his brow when he stumbled over a chair.
“If I go to the hospital, the social worker...”
“God!” Vee cuts him off. She throws up her hands and lets them fall to concede her defeat. It’s a well-known song: if social services learn what happened, Michael will go back to foster care. Vee can feel her stomach churning when she looks at his bruised temple, but she knows perfectly well that nothing could be worse for him than being separated from Lincoln. “You’re insane, both of you.”
Michael closes his eyes and a small smile tugs the corner of his lips when Lincoln delicately swabs the cut with a piece of cotton.
“You realize how dysfunctional this is, don’t you?” Vee adds.
“You being accepted in that law school doesn’t mean you have the right to make up words,” Lincoln says. He doesn’t look at her when he speaks, his attention doesn’t waver from Michael’s face for a split second and, for a while, Veronica doesn’t say a word. She just watches them, spellbound by Lincoln’s concentration. It’s the kind of undivided attention that he grants her when they’re alone and he wants something special, really special.
“Actually it is a word,” Michael replies, careful not to move - he’s already been poked in the eye while Lincoln was swabbing and nursing him after a burst of anger. He’s wary, now.
“See, that’s the reason why you must keep on going to school rather than hanging out with those wannabe thugs. So you can learn new stuff and throw it in my face.”
It’s not the first time it has happened and Vee would bet her right hand that it won’t be the last one. She’d just like to be a bit more horrified by their unconventional way of showing their affection for each other.
* * *
Previous / Next part
Comments are always welcome.
A/N: This story is an ensemble of points of view. They all belong to a same universe but can be read separately. Some parts are gen, others are slash. T-Bag is... T-Bag. Appropriate warnings and ratings will be given for each part.
Initial prompt by camille-miko: Michael/Lincoln. Hope, handcuffs and dream. Bittersweet and kinky. LJ’s take on the situation.
Beta: niennanou ( original version) and recycledfaery (English version). Many thanks to both of them.
Title: Kaleidoscope (1/9)
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Veronica, Michael, Lincoln
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 900
Warnings: None
Summary: She probably knows them better than anybody else and yet, they’re still a mystery to her.
Previous / Next part
Kaleidoscope
The people they know are not always interested in understanding. Some wonder and try to get it with more or less persistence. Most of them don’t pay much attention and they just go with what’s obvious. Occasionally someone does get a hint of that which brings them together, unites them and sometimes sets them apart, but it’s rarely more than a part of the image, a facet, only one of the infinite mirror games of the kaleidoscope.
Veronica
It’s not the first time she’s witnessed it, but she’ll never get used to it. It always leaves a weird taste in her mouth, a mixture of anger, incomprehension and fascination. She probably knows them better than anybody else and yet, they’re still a mystery to her.
This time, it’s because Michael followed Lincoln: Lincoln had told him to wait at their place while he was running an errand, Michael disobeyed; Lincoln found out and of course got mad.
Disobeying Lincoln is never a good idea, Michael should have understood that long ago. And Vee guesses that he did understand it long ago, he just doesn’t care and he acts the way he wants whenever he thinks he’s within his rights or merely feels like it. Or maybe it’s pure and simple provocation on his part; even though Lincoln isn’t aware of it, Veronica is sure that Michael does that.
Lincoln can be quite patient and understanding - weirdly patient and understanding with Michael anyway, not with anybody else - but still, disobeying him isn’t a good idea. Sooner or later comes the moment when he’s at loss for words (and Michael is pretty good to induce that) and when it happens, he hits. He hits because he can’t think of anything else to do, of how to make Michael obey him or make him understand that Lincoln tries to act in his best interests. This is not his favorite way of communication, far from it, and he doesn’t make a habit of it, but it has happened a few times. Usually because Michael has been hanging out with the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong time. He learned at his own expense that “But they’re your buddies too, Linc!” wasn’t a valid argument. Actually, this argument never fails to arouse Lincoln’s anger. Do as I say, not do as I do. It usually ends up with a wigging and a lecture reminding Michael that he’s better than that, a thought that Veronica can only second.
“You know you’re better than that,” Lincoln murmurs. There’s guilt and regret in his voice as well as a remaining hint of anger. Michael willingly complies when Lincoln grabs his chin and turns his face towards the light to inspect the damage. He leans into Lincoln’s familiar, almost ritual gesture. “Come on,” Lincoln says, “let’s take care of this.”
Vee stands in the bathroom doorway while Lincoln closes the toilet seat and sits and Michael settles on the edge of the tub. She watches them, her arms crossed and eyebrows knitted, and shakes her head.
“He should go to the hospital, Lincoln.”
“I’m fine,’” Michael answers quickly before his brother can even open his mouth to speak. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Of course it doesn’t. There are a few advantages into getting a beating from someone who, depending on the current mood, can either not really hurt you or inflict the maximum amount of damage. Michael points out that it’s not so bad and he’s right, just a bit of blood on his forehead. Doesn’t even come from one of Lincoln’s blows, not directly anyway - he cut his brow when he stumbled over a chair.
“If I go to the hospital, the social worker...”
“God!” Vee cuts him off. She throws up her hands and lets them fall to concede her defeat. It’s a well-known song: if social services learn what happened, Michael will go back to foster care. Vee can feel her stomach churning when she looks at his bruised temple, but she knows perfectly well that nothing could be worse for him than being separated from Lincoln. “You’re insane, both of you.”
Michael closes his eyes and a small smile tugs the corner of his lips when Lincoln delicately swabs the cut with a piece of cotton.
“You realize how dysfunctional this is, don’t you?” Vee adds.
“You being accepted in that law school doesn’t mean you have the right to make up words,” Lincoln says. He doesn’t look at her when he speaks, his attention doesn’t waver from Michael’s face for a split second and, for a while, Veronica doesn’t say a word. She just watches them, spellbound by Lincoln’s concentration. It’s the kind of undivided attention that he grants her when they’re alone and he wants something special, really special.
“Actually it is a word,” Michael replies, careful not to move - he’s already been poked in the eye while Lincoln was swabbing and nursing him after a burst of anger. He’s wary, now.
“See, that’s the reason why you must keep on going to school rather than hanging out with those wannabe thugs. So you can learn new stuff and throw it in my face.”
It’s not the first time it has happened and Vee would bet her right hand that it won’t be the last one. She’d just like to be a bit more horrified by their unconventional way of showing their affection for each other.
* * *
Previous / Next part
Comments are always welcome.