Fic: Fair Play (part 2)
Title:Fair Play (part 2)
Author:EtherealFlaim
Rating:PG
Fandom:Prison Break
Characters:Michael, Sarah, Lincoln, Kellerman, Mahone, Sucre, Susan, Whistler...
Summary:Michael and Lincoln take a few steps closer to their goal.
Author's Notes: Back by popular demand, and with more direction and more twistiness! Written for pbhiatus_fic, this is my second contribution to the first challenge.
Sucre and T-Bag were already in the tunnel when they heard the first explosion.
"Holy mother of perl, that sounded like a dooozy!"
"Oh, shut your trap T-Bag. Does you being my ticket out of this hell-hole really mean that I have to liten to your sniveling?"
"Oh, why yes, it does. And if that wasn't enough, you'd at least show a little pity for my pinky."
T-Bag waggled his four-fingered hand in Sucre's face.
"I wouldn't have had to cut it off if you had fessed up and told me what it was that you had in the first place," Sucre said somewhat guiltily. "Just be glad I didn't go for a more sensitive appendage."
"If I recall, honey, you WAS going to go after it if I didn't convince them company loonies to rescue your sorry ass as well as mine."
Sucre was about to proclaim how glad he was that he didn't have to follow through with that threat when the lid to their tunnel was thrown open and a hand reached in to pull them out. They ran for the chopper and dove in as it was taking off amid gunfire from the prison guards.
The brief flight to the warehouse passed in relative silence. T-Bag apparently couldn't think of anything else to say, and Sucre was more than happy to refrain from further conversation.
They watched the chopper fly off into the sky and looked around them. Sucre wondered immediately if this weren't just another set-up.
"So, when does this Whistler character show up?"
"Right now." The voice came from behind them.
They turned, and saw Whistler and Sofia approaching them.
"I don't want any funny business. If you give me the book, I will let you walk away from here alive." Whistler stopped and held out his hand. Sofia stopped next to him and bagan rummaging around in her purse.
Sucre stepped up to him and placed the bird book in the outstretched hand, but held onto it when Whistler tried to pull it back.
"What? Give it to me, Sucre."
"I can't let you do that, James."
Whistler seemed to remember that Sofia was there for the first time, and turned to face her just as the small needle pentrated the side of his neck. As she depressed the plunger, a quizzical expression crossed his face before he fell, expressionlessly asleep.
"C'mon Sucre. Our car is out back."
T-Bag was left standing there with a body at his feet, wondering if the man was dead or alive, watching Sucre and Sofia disappear down the dirt road.
"Well, if that ain't just a peacock's tailfeather..."
------
"Country Home Inn at Seventh and Towne. If he's not there, I am going to have your head, Whistler."
"He'll be there. Now, I've got my book, and you've got your information. We're square. Never call me again."
There was a click, and the line went dead. Lincoln sighed, and dropped another quarter into the payphone and dialed again.
The phone picked up mid-ring, and Lincoln rattled off what he had heard from Whistler.
"I've got a meeting with Susan in fifteen minutes. You get yours?"
"He's in the walk-in on the second floor. I'll meet you at the inn, you can go see him afterward."
Lincoln hung up quickly and walked the few blocks to his car.
------
Susan was pissed.
"Why the hell did you keep him?! Kill him! Right now! He has NO useful information. It doesn't matter how much you pay him."
Susan listened briefly with her eyes closed, trying to keep her anger from boiling over. She was inches from shooting the next person she saw.
"He has nothing to leverage. He doesn't care about anyone. The only person he did care about is dead, and at his hand."
Susan heard the metal door behind her start to open.
"Kill him. Now." Susan hung up the phone with a snap and put on her most smug smile. If Lincoln was not walking through that door with Sophia, she would take supreme pleasure in having his brother shot while he listened on the phone. She turned around nonchalantly to face him.
"Well, Lincoln. So nice of you to---" The smile fell from her face as Lincoln dropped a body at her feet. She didn't have to look down to know that it was the body of the sniper she had set to watch the brute's younger brother.
Susan put on a stern face and looked Lincoln in the eye. She would not back down. She would not show weakness. She knew that Lincoln had no illusions about her ability to replace the sniper. He may think this would buy him some time, but she knew otherwise.
Lincoln pulled a folded manilla folder from his back pocket and handed it to her in silence.
Susan opened the folder and slowly flipped through the pictures.
Lincoln watched as Susan tried to keep a straight face as she saw the pictures of her daughter playing in the playground, climbing aboard the school bus, eating dinner. He saw the facade turn to stone when she turned to the last photograph. Lincoln let himself feel a small amount of satisfaction at the look on Susan's face as she saw the picture of her daughter, sleeping, obviously taken from within the same room as the sleeping child.
"Let me know when you have a better offer." Lincoln turned on his heel and walked out of the factory without another word.
------
"Hey Michael! It's so great to hear your voice again, papi," Sucre beamed into the phone. He hadn't talked to his friend in far too many days, which unnerved him. He knew they weren't going to be talking all that often, but Michael was the one who was good at this whole laying low thing, who knew how to be on the run. He was proud of how well he'd done though, always making sure that they were never seen as a group. It helped to have so many people with him who were not convicted felons. They could run errands in groups, always different, so as not to attract attention.
"Hey, Sucre. How's everyone doing?"
"Well, Sofia's been great. She's helping me figure out how to lay low... Man, apparently being suspicious of your boyfriend can sure make a good girl into a master of deception. Pam is doing a great job of taking care of LJ and Cameron, who by the way are getting along great. So far we've barely even gotten funny looks. No credit cards, no public places, no big groups. Don't worry about us, papi, we're doing fine. How're things doing out there?"
"That's great news. I expect a call from Lincoln sometime tonight or tomorrow, so I don't know what he's been up to, but I've got a few leads on this Jason Lief, so that's where Sara and I are headed tomorrow."
"Does she suspect anything?"
"Not a thing."
"What about Mahone?"
"He missed his dead drop this morning. If he doesn't make it by tomorrow, Sara and I are going to have to go on without him. He can handle himself, I'm not too worried."
Maybe you should be... Sucre thought. He still wasn't sure how much he trusted Mahone. The man, after all, had been trying to kill all of them not too long ago.
"Well, I hope everything goes as planned. And good luck tracking down Susan and Whistler. I'll talk to you soon, papi. Take care."
Sucre hung up the phone, his happiness sobered a little by the reminder that Michael was still far from out of danger.
------
Mahone is startled awake by heavy footsteps.
So much for time to think... he mused. He sits up, and faces the door, his hands in his lap.
When the door opens, a smile stretches across his face. "Lincoln!"
After a few seconds, when the big man doesn't move, his smile falters.
"Lincoln?"
He watches as, in slow motion, Lincoln reaches into the belt under his corduroy jacket and pulls out a gun.
Alex Mahone stares, uncomprehending, as Lincoln Burrows takes aim.
And pulls the trigger.
To be continued... In part 3. Comments and criticism are appreciated!
Sucre and T-Bag were already in the tunnel when they heard the first explosion.
"Holy mother of perl, that sounded like a dooozy!"
"Oh, shut your trap T-Bag. Does you being my ticket out of this hell-hole really mean that I have to liten to your sniveling?"
"Oh, why yes, it does. And if that wasn't enough, you'd at least show a little pity for my pinky."
T-Bag waggled his four-fingered hand in Sucre's face.
"I wouldn't have had to cut it off if you had fessed up and told me what it was that you had in the first place," Sucre said somewhat guiltily. "Just be glad I didn't go for a more sensitive appendage."
"If I recall, honey, you WAS going to go after it if I didn't convince them company loonies to rescue your sorry ass as well as mine."
Sucre was about to proclaim how glad he was that he didn't have to follow through with that threat when the lid to their tunnel was thrown open and a hand reached in to pull them out. They ran for the chopper and dove in as it was taking off amid gunfire from the prison guards.
The brief flight to the warehouse passed in relative silence. T-Bag apparently couldn't think of anything else to say, and Sucre was more than happy to refrain from further conversation.
They watched the chopper fly off into the sky and looked around them. Sucre wondered immediately if this weren't just another set-up.
"So, when does this Whistler character show up?"
"Right now." The voice came from behind them.
They turned, and saw Whistler and Sofia approaching them.
"I don't want any funny business. If you give me the book, I will let you walk away from here alive." Whistler stopped and held out his hand. Sofia stopped next to him and bagan rummaging around in her purse.
Sucre stepped up to him and placed the bird book in the outstretched hand, but held onto it when Whistler tried to pull it back.
"What? Give it to me, Sucre."
"I can't let you do that, James."
Whistler seemed to remember that Sofia was there for the first time, and turned to face her just as the small needle pentrated the side of his neck. As she depressed the plunger, a quizzical expression crossed his face before he fell, expressionlessly asleep.
"C'mon Sucre. Our car is out back."
T-Bag was left standing there with a body at his feet, wondering if the man was dead or alive, watching Sucre and Sofia disappear down the dirt road.
"Well, if that ain't just a peacock's tailfeather..."
------
"Country Home Inn at Seventh and Towne. If he's not there, I am going to have your head, Whistler."
"He'll be there. Now, I've got my book, and you've got your information. We're square. Never call me again."
There was a click, and the line went dead. Lincoln sighed, and dropped another quarter into the payphone and dialed again.
The phone picked up mid-ring, and Lincoln rattled off what he had heard from Whistler.
"I've got a meeting with Susan in fifteen minutes. You get yours?"
"He's in the walk-in on the second floor. I'll meet you at the inn, you can go see him afterward."
Lincoln hung up quickly and walked the few blocks to his car.
------
Susan was pissed.
"Why the hell did you keep him?! Kill him! Right now! He has NO useful information. It doesn't matter how much you pay him."
Susan listened briefly with her eyes closed, trying to keep her anger from boiling over. She was inches from shooting the next person she saw.
"He has nothing to leverage. He doesn't care about anyone. The only person he did care about is dead, and at his hand."
Susan heard the metal door behind her start to open.
"Kill him. Now." Susan hung up the phone with a snap and put on her most smug smile. If Lincoln was not walking through that door with Sophia, she would take supreme pleasure in having his brother shot while he listened on the phone. She turned around nonchalantly to face him.
"Well, Lincoln. So nice of you to---" The smile fell from her face as Lincoln dropped a body at her feet. She didn't have to look down to know that it was the body of the sniper she had set to watch the brute's younger brother.
Susan put on a stern face and looked Lincoln in the eye. She would not back down. She would not show weakness. She knew that Lincoln had no illusions about her ability to replace the sniper. He may think this would buy him some time, but she knew otherwise.
Lincoln pulled a folded manilla folder from his back pocket and handed it to her in silence.
Susan opened the folder and slowly flipped through the pictures.
Lincoln watched as Susan tried to keep a straight face as she saw the pictures of her daughter playing in the playground, climbing aboard the school bus, eating dinner. He saw the facade turn to stone when she turned to the last photograph. Lincoln let himself feel a small amount of satisfaction at the look on Susan's face as she saw the picture of her daughter, sleeping, obviously taken from within the same room as the sleeping child.
"Let me know when you have a better offer." Lincoln turned on his heel and walked out of the factory without another word.
------
"Hey Michael! It's so great to hear your voice again, papi," Sucre beamed into the phone. He hadn't talked to his friend in far too many days, which unnerved him. He knew they weren't going to be talking all that often, but Michael was the one who was good at this whole laying low thing, who knew how to be on the run. He was proud of how well he'd done though, always making sure that they were never seen as a group. It helped to have so many people with him who were not convicted felons. They could run errands in groups, always different, so as not to attract attention.
"Hey, Sucre. How's everyone doing?"
"Well, Sofia's been great. She's helping me figure out how to lay low... Man, apparently being suspicious of your boyfriend can sure make a good girl into a master of deception. Pam is doing a great job of taking care of LJ and Cameron, who by the way are getting along great. So far we've barely even gotten funny looks. No credit cards, no public places, no big groups. Don't worry about us, papi, we're doing fine. How're things doing out there?"
"That's great news. I expect a call from Lincoln sometime tonight or tomorrow, so I don't know what he's been up to, but I've got a few leads on this Jason Lief, so that's where Sara and I are headed tomorrow."
"Does she suspect anything?"
"Not a thing."
"What about Mahone?"
"He missed his dead drop this morning. If he doesn't make it by tomorrow, Sara and I are going to have to go on without him. He can handle himself, I'm not too worried."
Maybe you should be... Sucre thought. He still wasn't sure how much he trusted Mahone. The man, after all, had been trying to kill all of them not too long ago.
"Well, I hope everything goes as planned. And good luck tracking down Susan and Whistler. I'll talk to you soon, papi. Take care."
Sucre hung up the phone, his happiness sobered a little by the reminder that Michael was still far from out of danger.
------
Mahone is startled awake by heavy footsteps.
So much for time to think... he mused. He sits up, and faces the door, his hands in his lap.
When the door opens, a smile stretches across his face. "Lincoln!"
After a few seconds, when the big man doesn't move, his smile falters.
"Lincoln?"
He watches as, in slow motion, Lincoln reaches into the belt under his corduroy jacket and pulls out a gun.
Alex Mahone stares, uncomprehending, as Lincoln Burrows takes aim.
And pulls the trigger.
To be continued... In part 3. Comments and criticism are appreciated!