Fic: Fair Play (part 3)
Title:Fair Play (part 3)
Author:EtherealFlaim
Rating:PG-13
Fandom:Prison Break
Characters:Michael, Sarah, Lincoln, Kellerman, Mahone, Sucre, Susan, Whistler...
Summary:True colors are revealed, in true Prison Break fashion. Or are they?
Author's Notes:This is part 3 of the Fair Play series, which takes place a good while after the end of Season 3. Written for pbhiatus_fic. If you have not read the first and second parts, you'll be lost. You may well still be lost, but that's not the point. >=) There's a piece in here that's rather un-canon, but I had to. You'll know what I mean.
Fic Notes:This is really long in coming. It was written for a challenge long passed. I will be very surprised if anyone manages to find or read this fic =)
*click*
"Shit," Lincoln swore under his breath, cocking the pistol for another shot. He'd only ever had a gun not go off in his hands once before, and that time had been when he was just learning to shoot, and he had dropped the gun in fear. This time, he cooly took aim again, knowing that the chances that two bullets in a row were both duds were astronomically low.
"WAIT! Stop, Lincoln!" When Alex Mahone saw that Lincoln Burrows had no intention of stopping, he dropped the bomb that he had hoped he'd never have to use.
"I know you kissed Michael!"
Lincoln stopped in his tracks, and stared at the man sitting on the floor before him. Part of him wanted to pull the trigger even more after this outburst, but another part of him stayed his finger--but just barely.
"What are you talking about? Who told you that?" Lincoln spat, keeping the gun trained on Mahone.
"Michael did. I've been working with him to try to track down this Leif guy."
"Why the FUCK would he tell you that?" Lincoln's anger was rising, and instead of putting the gun down, he took a step closer to Mahone and trained it on the ex-agent's forehead.
Mahone stared coolly up at Lincoln, knowing that at this point Lincoln wasn't actually going to pull the trigger. "Because he knew that would be the only thing on the planet that might be able to convince you or Sucre that I was actually on your side."
Lincoln dropped the gun, mollified.
"That was a long time ago..."
"And you were drunk, I know." Despite Lincoln's size, Alex couldn't help picturing an ashamed schoolboy staring at his feet, toeing the ground, hoping for forgiveness.
There was a long pause during which neither of them spoke. Finally, Lincoln broke the silence.
"Well, if Michael trusts, you, then I guess I have no choice." This remark was accompanied by a slightly resentful sidelong glance at the agent on the ground as Lincoln retreated from the closet.
Alex stood up and followed him out.
------
Michael walked through the park and sat down at the bench, observing the other occupants of the green space as he slowly ate his lunch. Satisfied that nobody was watching or tailing him, he balled up his brown paper sack and walked toward the trash can. Stooping to pick up an identical wad of brown paper from beside the trash can, he tore a lighter brown square from the piece of litter. Depositing the two spent lunch bags, he quickly pocketed the brown note and walked toward the park entrance. His step was lighter now; he knew that Mahone was still on the map and tracking. Now he could concentrate on his primary objective: Jason Leif.
------
Sucre stepped out of the car and glanced around quickly for any cars that he might have seen before or people who are paying too much attention to them. When he didn't see anything out of the ordinary, he tapped the window and LJ climbed out of the passenger seat. They walked toward the storefront.
"I don't have to be as smart as your uncle to be able to tell that something's bothering you, LJ."
LJ smiled and looked down sheepishly. "Yeah," he laughed, "I suck at hiding my emotions. I guess I get that from my father."
At this, the smile faded from LJ's face. He looked up toward the sky and inhaled deeply.
"I miss them so much, Sucre."
They walked through the automatic doors and turned left into the food aisles.
"Back when I was a kid... Lisa was alright, but she was always there. Dad was the one I always wanted to see. And Michael. Michael was always there when Dad wasn't."
Sucre pulled LJ to his side and squeezed his shoulders.
"I keep thinking that I want to go home. But even if there were somewhere to call 'home,' neither of them would be in it."
"LJ, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, buddy. Home is where you make it. Home is about the people you're with and the happy times you have. In Fox River, despite all of the bad stuff that went down, that cell was my home because of Scoffield. He made waking up each day a lot more dangerous, but a lot more liveable. Take this all day by day, and soon it will all be over and your father and uncle will finally be able to go home, wherever that winds up being."
LJ smiled and dropped a pair of cans into the basket Sucre was holding.
"Thanks, Sucre."
------
The cell phone vibrated quietly in Michael's pocket. He excused himself from the motel room and walked outside before answering.
"Lincoln."
There was a long pause, then Michael heard Lincoln breathe his name in return.
"How're you doing, Linc?"
"I'm keeping busy, Mikey. Gretchen's still hounding me, but I'm dealing with her.
"And, in the process, I ran into a friend of yours."
Michael winced at the acid he could hear in his brother's voice. "Yeah, sorry about that Lincoln. I knew you would have a hard time trusting him."
"Michael, if you trust him... I have no choice not to. You know that. You could've just told me," Lincoln whispered.
Instead of telling him secrets. Michael knew Lincoln was thinking it, but would never say it aloud.
When Michael didn't respond, Lincoln changed the subject. "Have you found Lief yet?"
"I'm on his trail now."
There was a long silence during which neither of them spoke.
"Stop worrying, Linc. I'm going to find him, and figure out what this is all really about."
"What about Sara."
"I haven't decided yet, Linc."
------
Sofia awoke early, and was unusually hungry. After peeking unto the other rooms to see if anyone else was awake, she decided to start making brekfast for herself anyway. She rooted through the fridge and pulled out a few potatoes, a bag of shredded cheese, and chose four eggs from the carton. Bumping the fridge door closed with her hip, she walked over to the counter and set about making some breakfast burritos. They weren't the best thing in the world, but they were cheap, simple, and relatively quick to make.
It wasn't long before it was time to add the cheese, and as Sofia was slicing open the bag she heard shuffling footsteps from the hallway. Turning, she saw a very tired-looking LJ walk into the kitchen.
"'Morning, LJ," she said conversationally.
LJ looked up at her through squited eyes. "What smells so good?"
"Just making some breakfast. Want some?"
LJ plopped down on a barstool next to the counter and nodded.
"Where's the book?" he asked.
"It's over on the table," Sofia replied. "Right where you left it." She smiled, and watched as the boy slipped off the stool and went to fetch it. She had no interest in trying to decipher its secrets after the effort she put in to get her hands on it, but she knew that between LJ and Michael they would eventually figure it out.
At the thought of the book, Sofia's memory began to drift. She hadn't known at the time if she was even going to make it fifty feet from James before some Company man stepped out of the bushes and killed her but she had done it anyway.
Well, if this isn't just a lovely little party. I love parties! The memory of T-Bag's juvenile, yet sinister voice sent shivers down her spine. Now, if you two don't mind, I believe we have... he paused, stressing the next word as though he knew he and Sucre the only one the Company was rewarding. accomodations a-waitin' for us.
This way. It'll take us about an hour or so to get there. Whistler gestured toward where they had hidden the car. T-Bag started walking toward the underbrush with more than his usual swagger. Knowing that the Company had big plans for the man both sickened and elated Sofia. Sickened because they were just stroking his already planet-sized ego, Elated because the company had a really bad habit of letting their operatives die, and the stupid ones often went first.
Sucre hung back, and briefly met Sofia's gaze. He nodded, and before she could think about it enough to have second thoughts Sofia had the syringe out of her pocket and into Whistler's neck before the man even knew it was coming. He looked up at her, and the look of betrayal on his face as the sedative finished its job burned itself into her memory like a cattle-brand.
At the sound of Whistler hitting the ground, T-Bag spun around. Looking back and forth between Sucre and Sofia, he slowly backed against the car.
Now, wait just a second, precious. You and your little boyfriend there were supposed to be here to rescue Sucre 'n me. What're you doin' with that syringe?
Sucre walked up to hom and shoved him roughly away from the car before climbing into the driver's seat. Plans change.
Jogging around to the other side of the car, Sofia quickly climbed into the passenger seat and buckled herself in.
Wait, you're not gonna leave me here, are you? T-Bag shouted after them as the car started and backed onto the dirt road. What am I supposed to do?
Sucre pulled the car forward again so Sofia's door was next to the spluttering man. Actually, she said, There is, She reached out the window and plucked a small book from the man's pack pocket. Thanks.
She remembered with satisfaction the look of horror on Bagwell's face as they drove off down the dusty road. The thought of losing his bargaining chip had obviously set in, and she figured he'd start running as soon as he came to his senses. Not that it would help.
"Sofia?" LJ's voice brought her back to the present.
"Oh, sorry LJ. Here you go." Sofia grabbed a tortilla and ladeled some of the eggs and potatoes into it before handing it to LJ.
"Thanks."
------
Kellerman had his feet propped up on the desk when Lincoln walked in. "Took you long enough, Burrows."
Then, right on Lincoln's heels, Mahone strides into the room. Kellerman's feet flew to the floor and his pistol was in his hand in a split second.
"Put that damned thing down, Kellerman." Mahone ordered. Seeing that the ex-FBI agent wasn't holding Lincoln at gunpoint, Kellerman conceded that there was something going on here that he didn't understand. He pointed the gun away from Mahone, but did not put it away. "We have a lot to talk about, and a lot of plans to make. As soon as Michael says its time, we have to be ready."
Mahone walked over to the table and swung a black case up onto it, silently clicking the two latches open. When he opened the case, Kellerman's jaw dropped. Inside it were ten-odd matte black pieces of metal.
A sniper rifle.
------
As the door clicked closed, Michael opened his eyes. He quickly pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, and peered out the motel room window. Sara's sark form was moving swiftly across the parking-lot. Michael slipped out of the motel room and followed her from as far back as he could. She walked for a quarter mile, checking over her shoulder constantly. She finally stopped beside a pay-phone outside a gas station, and waited there.
It had barely been five minutes when Michael heard the phone ring. Sara answered it before the first set of jangling tones was complete. Michael didn't have to be any closer to know exactly what she was telling them, or who was on the other end of the line. He had been extremely careful to make sure she only knew certain calculated pieces of the research he was doing on Leif, and she had just delivered the message to the Company that he was only a few days away from being able to track the man down. Michael turned away and began walking back. He felt his heart grow cold again as he drew the cell phone from his pocket. Her part had been played.
Michael enters a single text message into the throw-away phone, and clicked "Send" scarce seconds before the phone disappeared into a trash can.
The message read simply, "7AM."
To be continued... Comments are always welcome =)
*click*
"Shit," Lincoln swore under his breath, cocking the pistol for another shot. He'd only ever had a gun not go off in his hands once before, and that time had been when he was just learning to shoot, and he had dropped the gun in fear. This time, he cooly took aim again, knowing that the chances that two bullets in a row were both duds were astronomically low.
"WAIT! Stop, Lincoln!" When Alex Mahone saw that Lincoln Burrows had no intention of stopping, he dropped the bomb that he had hoped he'd never have to use.
"I know you kissed Michael!"
Lincoln stopped in his tracks, and stared at the man sitting on the floor before him. Part of him wanted to pull the trigger even more after this outburst, but another part of him stayed his finger--but just barely.
"What are you talking about? Who told you that?" Lincoln spat, keeping the gun trained on Mahone.
"Michael did. I've been working with him to try to track down this Leif guy."
"Why the FUCK would he tell you that?" Lincoln's anger was rising, and instead of putting the gun down, he took a step closer to Mahone and trained it on the ex-agent's forehead.
Mahone stared coolly up at Lincoln, knowing that at this point Lincoln wasn't actually going to pull the trigger. "Because he knew that would be the only thing on the planet that might be able to convince you or Sucre that I was actually on your side."
Lincoln dropped the gun, mollified.
"That was a long time ago..."
"And you were drunk, I know." Despite Lincoln's size, Alex couldn't help picturing an ashamed schoolboy staring at his feet, toeing the ground, hoping for forgiveness.
There was a long pause during which neither of them spoke. Finally, Lincoln broke the silence.
"Well, if Michael trusts, you, then I guess I have no choice." This remark was accompanied by a slightly resentful sidelong glance at the agent on the ground as Lincoln retreated from the closet.
Alex stood up and followed him out.
------
Michael walked through the park and sat down at the bench, observing the other occupants of the green space as he slowly ate his lunch. Satisfied that nobody was watching or tailing him, he balled up his brown paper sack and walked toward the trash can. Stooping to pick up an identical wad of brown paper from beside the trash can, he tore a lighter brown square from the piece of litter. Depositing the two spent lunch bags, he quickly pocketed the brown note and walked toward the park entrance. His step was lighter now; he knew that Mahone was still on the map and tracking. Now he could concentrate on his primary objective: Jason Leif.
------
Sucre stepped out of the car and glanced around quickly for any cars that he might have seen before or people who are paying too much attention to them. When he didn't see anything out of the ordinary, he tapped the window and LJ climbed out of the passenger seat. They walked toward the storefront.
"I don't have to be as smart as your uncle to be able to tell that something's bothering you, LJ."
LJ smiled and looked down sheepishly. "Yeah," he laughed, "I suck at hiding my emotions. I guess I get that from my father."
At this, the smile faded from LJ's face. He looked up toward the sky and inhaled deeply.
"I miss them so much, Sucre."
They walked through the automatic doors and turned left into the food aisles.
"Back when I was a kid... Lisa was alright, but she was always there. Dad was the one I always wanted to see. And Michael. Michael was always there when Dad wasn't."
Sucre pulled LJ to his side and squeezed his shoulders.
"I keep thinking that I want to go home. But even if there were somewhere to call 'home,' neither of them would be in it."
"LJ, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, buddy. Home is where you make it. Home is about the people you're with and the happy times you have. In Fox River, despite all of the bad stuff that went down, that cell was my home because of Scoffield. He made waking up each day a lot more dangerous, but a lot more liveable. Take this all day by day, and soon it will all be over and your father and uncle will finally be able to go home, wherever that winds up being."
LJ smiled and dropped a pair of cans into the basket Sucre was holding.
"Thanks, Sucre."
------
The cell phone vibrated quietly in Michael's pocket. He excused himself from the motel room and walked outside before answering.
"Lincoln."
There was a long pause, then Michael heard Lincoln breathe his name in return.
"How're you doing, Linc?"
"I'm keeping busy, Mikey. Gretchen's still hounding me, but I'm dealing with her.
"And, in the process, I ran into a friend of yours."
Michael winced at the acid he could hear in his brother's voice. "Yeah, sorry about that Lincoln. I knew you would have a hard time trusting him."
"Michael, if you trust him... I have no choice not to. You know that. You could've just told me," Lincoln whispered.
Instead of telling him secrets. Michael knew Lincoln was thinking it, but would never say it aloud.
When Michael didn't respond, Lincoln changed the subject. "Have you found Lief yet?"
"I'm on his trail now."
There was a long silence during which neither of them spoke.
"Stop worrying, Linc. I'm going to find him, and figure out what this is all really about."
"What about Sara."
"I haven't decided yet, Linc."
------
Sofia awoke early, and was unusually hungry. After peeking unto the other rooms to see if anyone else was awake, she decided to start making brekfast for herself anyway. She rooted through the fridge and pulled out a few potatoes, a bag of shredded cheese, and chose four eggs from the carton. Bumping the fridge door closed with her hip, she walked over to the counter and set about making some breakfast burritos. They weren't the best thing in the world, but they were cheap, simple, and relatively quick to make.
It wasn't long before it was time to add the cheese, and as Sofia was slicing open the bag she heard shuffling footsteps from the hallway. Turning, she saw a very tired-looking LJ walk into the kitchen.
"'Morning, LJ," she said conversationally.
LJ looked up at her through squited eyes. "What smells so good?"
"Just making some breakfast. Want some?"
LJ plopped down on a barstool next to the counter and nodded.
"Where's the book?" he asked.
"It's over on the table," Sofia replied. "Right where you left it." She smiled, and watched as the boy slipped off the stool and went to fetch it. She had no interest in trying to decipher its secrets after the effort she put in to get her hands on it, but she knew that between LJ and Michael they would eventually figure it out.
At the thought of the book, Sofia's memory began to drift. She hadn't known at the time if she was even going to make it fifty feet from James before some Company man stepped out of the bushes and killed her but she had done it anyway.
Well, if this isn't just a lovely little party. I love parties! The memory of T-Bag's juvenile, yet sinister voice sent shivers down her spine. Now, if you two don't mind, I believe we have... he paused, stressing the next word as though he knew he and Sucre the only one the Company was rewarding. accomodations a-waitin' for us.
This way. It'll take us about an hour or so to get there. Whistler gestured toward where they had hidden the car. T-Bag started walking toward the underbrush with more than his usual swagger. Knowing that the Company had big plans for the man both sickened and elated Sofia. Sickened because they were just stroking his already planet-sized ego, Elated because the company had a really bad habit of letting their operatives die, and the stupid ones often went first.
Sucre hung back, and briefly met Sofia's gaze. He nodded, and before she could think about it enough to have second thoughts Sofia had the syringe out of her pocket and into Whistler's neck before the man even knew it was coming. He looked up at her, and the look of betrayal on his face as the sedative finished its job burned itself into her memory like a cattle-brand.
At the sound of Whistler hitting the ground, T-Bag spun around. Looking back and forth between Sucre and Sofia, he slowly backed against the car.
Now, wait just a second, precious. You and your little boyfriend there were supposed to be here to rescue Sucre 'n me. What're you doin' with that syringe?
Sucre walked up to hom and shoved him roughly away from the car before climbing into the driver's seat. Plans change.
Jogging around to the other side of the car, Sofia quickly climbed into the passenger seat and buckled herself in.
Wait, you're not gonna leave me here, are you? T-Bag shouted after them as the car started and backed onto the dirt road. What am I supposed to do?
Sucre pulled the car forward again so Sofia's door was next to the spluttering man. Actually, she said, There is, She reached out the window and plucked a small book from the man's pack pocket. Thanks.
She remembered with satisfaction the look of horror on Bagwell's face as they drove off down the dusty road. The thought of losing his bargaining chip had obviously set in, and she figured he'd start running as soon as he came to his senses. Not that it would help.
"Sofia?" LJ's voice brought her back to the present.
"Oh, sorry LJ. Here you go." Sofia grabbed a tortilla and ladeled some of the eggs and potatoes into it before handing it to LJ.
"Thanks."
------
Kellerman had his feet propped up on the desk when Lincoln walked in. "Took you long enough, Burrows."
Then, right on Lincoln's heels, Mahone strides into the room. Kellerman's feet flew to the floor and his pistol was in his hand in a split second.
"Put that damned thing down, Kellerman." Mahone ordered. Seeing that the ex-FBI agent wasn't holding Lincoln at gunpoint, Kellerman conceded that there was something going on here that he didn't understand. He pointed the gun away from Mahone, but did not put it away. "We have a lot to talk about, and a lot of plans to make. As soon as Michael says its time, we have to be ready."
Mahone walked over to the table and swung a black case up onto it, silently clicking the two latches open. When he opened the case, Kellerman's jaw dropped. Inside it were ten-odd matte black pieces of metal.
A sniper rifle.
------
As the door clicked closed, Michael opened his eyes. He quickly pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, and peered out the motel room window. Sara's sark form was moving swiftly across the parking-lot. Michael slipped out of the motel room and followed her from as far back as he could. She walked for a quarter mile, checking over her shoulder constantly. She finally stopped beside a pay-phone outside a gas station, and waited there.
It had barely been five minutes when Michael heard the phone ring. Sara answered it before the first set of jangling tones was complete. Michael didn't have to be any closer to know exactly what she was telling them, or who was on the other end of the line. He had been extremely careful to make sure she only knew certain calculated pieces of the research he was doing on Leif, and she had just delivered the message to the Company that he was only a few days away from being able to track the man down. Michael turned away and began walking back. He felt his heart grow cold again as he drew the cell phone from his pocket. Her part had been played.
Michael enters a single text message into the throw-away phone, and clicked "Send" scarce seconds before the phone disappeared into a trash can.
The message read simply, "7AM."
To be continued... Comments are always welcome =)