Shadows (part 6/?)
Title: Shadows (Part 6)
Author: angel_1013
Rating: R for language & violence
Characters: Michael POV with others thrown in for flavor.
Summary: This is the third and last installment of my Regret/Pieces series. You should probably read Regret and Pieces first as this won’t make much sense otherwise. Shadows takes us back to Michael’s POV and runs parallel time-wise to Sara’s POV in Pieces. So this basically covers Michael’s time back at Fox River.
Author's Note: Starting with this part, we'll unfortunately not be matching up the parts in Pieces. Pieces had shorter parts than this story. The timeline and scenes still follows Pieces, but this Part 6 won't match up with Part 6 of Pieces. If that makes any sense.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
I didn’t get any sleep last night. The anticipation of getting out of here has me so wired and I can barely sit still.
There’s a lockdown today. I heard last night before lights out that Pope was afraid of a riot starting because of me. I doubt the fact that I’m leaving would start a riot, but Pope is a cautious man. And I guess news of my release has become kind of a big deal.
I don’t know much about it. I haven’t seen another inmate since that last time in the yard when the bulls jumped T-Bag. All of my news comes directly from the bulls when they choose to share it with me.
Someone comes by with a box containing the things I came in with. Suit, shoes, socks, shirt, underwear, wallet, keys, pack of gum. The sum total of my life walking into Fox River contained in a cardboard box.
My watch and digital recorder are missing, of course.
I carefully unfold everything and lay it out on my bed. The suit jacket is torn on the inside from hiding the rope and bag, but it won’t be noticeable when I put it on.
This is it. When I take off these prison issue clothes and put on my suit, I’ll be free. Not technically, of course. That won’t happen until I actually walk out the door.
But I’ll be a man again. Not an inmate. Not a con. Not a fish. A Man.
So I savor this moment. I slowly undress and fold each item of clothing. The dark blue pants that never fit right. The gray t-shirt. The black boots with the broken laces. They all form a neat stack at the foot of my bed.
I wish I could burn them.
As I’m finishing getting dressed in my real clothes, John knocks on the door and says through the slot, “You got a visitor in ten.”
My heart skips a beat and I stare at the door.
Sara.
I finish up the last of my packing. It takes all of 30 seconds and half of the empty box. I gave all my books to the prison library. They need them more than I do now.
I spend the next 9 minutes and 30 seconds standing at the end of my cell and staring at the door. The anticipation of seeing her is almost worse than what I went through last night staring at the ceiling and waiting for morning.
~~~**~~~
When the door opens and I see her, the breath leaves my lungs and I realize I’d been holding it there nervously.
I can’t believe she’s actually here. Standing approximately 6 feet away. Her gaze sweeps over me and it’s like she’s actually touching me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I try to calm my nerves.
I decide on an easy start. “Hi,” I say and motion for her to come in further. “Come on in. I know it’s not much…” I try to smile to make her more comfortable.
Stepping back, I watch as she takes in my cramped quarters. “Hello,” she says absently as she looks around at the bare room. There’s not much to see. The bedding has already been taken away and the only things in here are a small box on the table holding my meager possessions and the stack of clothes at the end of the bed.
“Congratulations. I’m sure you’re very happy to be getting out of here,” she says formally.
“Thank you for coming. I didn’t know if you would.” My gaze has wandered to the floor and I have to force myself to look back up at her. I take a deep breath and slowly let it out before saying what I’ve been waiting to say to her. “I wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you…for everything.”
She immediately looks pained and I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Looking up at the ceiling uncomfortably and running a hand over her hair, she says, “Please don’t…don’t thank me.” She feels awkward and I hate that I’ve turned this gift of a visit into something filled with tension.
I should be angry that she set me up. I’ve spent the last few years here because of her. I wish I could be angry. But I can’t. I can’t because she risked everything so that I could save Lincoln’s life.
“I’m sorry for what helping us cost you. I wish so much that things could have been different.” I try to explain how sorry I am, but I can’t find the words anymore. I had it all worked out in my head, but it’s not exactly unfolding the way I was expecting.
Her eyes snap to mine and she bites out, “Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? You got what you wanted.”
Ouch.
I try again, stupidly. “I wish you knew how I sorry I am that I hurt you.” The words sound hollow, even to me. I take a step toward her because the distance between us seems so large. But when she takes a matching step back, I realize it’s not the physical distance I was trying to close.
My eyes begin to burn with the realization that she will always be lost to me. There’s no going back. There’s no erasing that can be done. When she leaves this room, I will never see her again. And she will never know that what I feel for her is real.
“I know. Unfortunately, being sorry doesn’t take it all back.” She looks up at me and I want to look away in shame. But I can’t. I force myself to hear the words from her lips that I so don’t want to hear. “Did you ask me here for forgiveness?”
At this point, I feel like a drowning man grasping on to a passing log that keeps slipping out of my grip. “Do you remember when I asked you…when I asked you to wait for me? That I wouldn’t always be in this place…”
She twists her head to the side and looks toward the door, not wanting to hear what I’m saying. What I’m asking. “Michael…” Her tone tells me she wants me to stop. I’ve hit a nerve and that thought encourages me to continue.
“That it wouldn’t always be like that? I know I was dreaming then, because I knew what I had to do. But I swear to you, I didn’t plan on involving you the way I did. I tried to think of any other way. But there wasn’t one.” I want her to know so badly how I feel. “Believe me, I’ve spent the last few years thinking about it. Wondering if there had been another way and I missed it.”
My mind goes back to The Plan, searching, trying to figure out that one thing that would have made it all different. I don’t realize that I’ve zoned out until I hear her call my name.
I turn to look at her and she says, “It’s over, Michael. You need to just let it go now.”
She’s right, of course. But The Plan is still traveling through my head. “Right,” I nod and try to clear my mind. “I have a little trouble letting things go.”
“I’m not some unresolved detail in your plan. I can forgive you, Michael, but that’s all I can give you. I just…I’m happy now. I have a good life and someone who loves me.”
So she’s still with Dr. Davis. I don’t know if she’s trying to convince me or herself, but I don’t think I’m the only one in this cell who noticed she said “someone who loves me” and not “someone I love”. There’s a big difference there.
I step toward her and this time she doesn’t move away. I reach up and touch her cheek. Finally. Her skin feels like silk. “But do you love him?” I ask her.
My name escapes from her lips on a sigh and she leans into my hand. It’s taking every ounce of my self-control right now to not kiss her. Especially when her eyes close as I trace the small crease at the corner of her mouth.
I lean down, my lips hovering so close to hers that I can feel her breath on them. “Do you?” I ask. “Do you love him?”
My heart is hammering inside my chest and my breath escapes me with a shaky sigh. We both know the answer to my question. She wouldn’t be here with me right now if it was yes. But she has to admit it to herself first.
“This is where I don’t answer you.” Her answer crashes over me like a thousand knives and I close my eyes.
When she reaches up to pull my hand from her cheek, I open my eyes and see the tears in hers. She can’t admit it. Even to herself.
We’re a pair, the two of us. Me, so wracked with guilt over hurting her and wanting her so badly it hurts. She, having been hurt and not allowing anyone to get close enough to hurt her that much again.
“I can’t,” she says as she pulls away.
And that’s that. I’ve lost her. Not that I ever had her to begin with, but I gave it a valiant effort. I can see she’s antsy to leave. She’s uncomfortable again. Skittish. So I nod and step away from her, giving her space. “Thank you for coming,” I tell her. It sounds so stupid to say that, but I want to fill the silence.
She doesn’t answer and I watch helplessly as she turns her back to me and heads for the door. And out of my life. I’m a fool. I feel my eyes start to burn again and berate myself to at least wait until she’s gone before breaking down.
She waits at the door for a few seconds longer than she should and I’m about to ask her what’s wrong. I don’t get a chance, though, because in the next instant she’s flying back across the cell and kissing me.
Kissing me silly. Her hands grab at my suit jacket like a lifeline as her lips fuse to mine. I touch her everywhere. I memorize the feel, the taste, the scent of her. I’m so blindsided that I don’t even question it.
I drown in her. Desperate sounds echo off the Plexiglas walls and I haul her up closer against me. God, she feels so good.
But just as quickly as it happens, there’s a knock on the door and she pushes away from me. Her hand covers her mouth and tears swim in her eyes. I’m still recovering from the fact that my arms aren’t around her when she whispers, “Goodbye, Michael.” and bolts out the door.
~~~**~~~
I’m still shell-shocked when I finally leave Fox River for the last time. I’ve got my little box of things. Not sure why, it’s not like I want to keep any of it except for the picture of Lincoln and LJ. I guess it’s that I don’t want to leave any of me behind those walls.
As promised, Lincoln is waiting outside fending off the crowd of reporters and looking anxiously toward me as I make my way out of the gates.
Thoughts of Sara and our kiss temporarily leave me as I weave through the crowd avoiding the reporter’s shouted questions and finally reach my brother.
His hug is fierce and I almost weep with joy before he shoves me in the car and we drive away.
I watch in the side mirror as Fox River gets smaller and smaller behind us and I lean my head back on the seat and smile.
~TBC~
Author: angel_1013
Rating: R for language & violence
Characters: Michael POV with others thrown in for flavor.
Summary: This is the third and last installment of my Regret/Pieces series. You should probably read Regret and Pieces first as this won’t make much sense otherwise. Shadows takes us back to Michael’s POV and runs parallel time-wise to Sara’s POV in Pieces. So this basically covers Michael’s time back at Fox River.
Author's Note: Starting with this part, we'll unfortunately not be matching up the parts in Pieces. Pieces had shorter parts than this story. The timeline and scenes still follows Pieces, but this Part 6 won't match up with Part 6 of Pieces. If that makes any sense.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
I didn’t get any sleep last night. The anticipation of getting out of here has me so wired and I can barely sit still.
There’s a lockdown today. I heard last night before lights out that Pope was afraid of a riot starting because of me. I doubt the fact that I’m leaving would start a riot, but Pope is a cautious man. And I guess news of my release has become kind of a big deal.
I don’t know much about it. I haven’t seen another inmate since that last time in the yard when the bulls jumped T-Bag. All of my news comes directly from the bulls when they choose to share it with me.
Someone comes by with a box containing the things I came in with. Suit, shoes, socks, shirt, underwear, wallet, keys, pack of gum. The sum total of my life walking into Fox River contained in a cardboard box.
My watch and digital recorder are missing, of course.
I carefully unfold everything and lay it out on my bed. The suit jacket is torn on the inside from hiding the rope and bag, but it won’t be noticeable when I put it on.
This is it. When I take off these prison issue clothes and put on my suit, I’ll be free. Not technically, of course. That won’t happen until I actually walk out the door.
But I’ll be a man again. Not an inmate. Not a con. Not a fish. A Man.
So I savor this moment. I slowly undress and fold each item of clothing. The dark blue pants that never fit right. The gray t-shirt. The black boots with the broken laces. They all form a neat stack at the foot of my bed.
I wish I could burn them.
As I’m finishing getting dressed in my real clothes, John knocks on the door and says through the slot, “You got a visitor in ten.”
My heart skips a beat and I stare at the door.
Sara.
I finish up the last of my packing. It takes all of 30 seconds and half of the empty box. I gave all my books to the prison library. They need them more than I do now.
I spend the next 9 minutes and 30 seconds standing at the end of my cell and staring at the door. The anticipation of seeing her is almost worse than what I went through last night staring at the ceiling and waiting for morning.
~~~**~~~
When the door opens and I see her, the breath leaves my lungs and I realize I’d been holding it there nervously.
I can’t believe she’s actually here. Standing approximately 6 feet away. Her gaze sweeps over me and it’s like she’s actually touching me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I try to calm my nerves.
I decide on an easy start. “Hi,” I say and motion for her to come in further. “Come on in. I know it’s not much…” I try to smile to make her more comfortable.
Stepping back, I watch as she takes in my cramped quarters. “Hello,” she says absently as she looks around at the bare room. There’s not much to see. The bedding has already been taken away and the only things in here are a small box on the table holding my meager possessions and the stack of clothes at the end of the bed.
“Congratulations. I’m sure you’re very happy to be getting out of here,” she says formally.
“Thank you for coming. I didn’t know if you would.” My gaze has wandered to the floor and I have to force myself to look back up at her. I take a deep breath and slowly let it out before saying what I’ve been waiting to say to her. “I wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you…for everything.”
She immediately looks pained and I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Looking up at the ceiling uncomfortably and running a hand over her hair, she says, “Please don’t…don’t thank me.” She feels awkward and I hate that I’ve turned this gift of a visit into something filled with tension.
I should be angry that she set me up. I’ve spent the last few years here because of her. I wish I could be angry. But I can’t. I can’t because she risked everything so that I could save Lincoln’s life.
“I’m sorry for what helping us cost you. I wish so much that things could have been different.” I try to explain how sorry I am, but I can’t find the words anymore. I had it all worked out in my head, but it’s not exactly unfolding the way I was expecting.
Her eyes snap to mine and she bites out, “Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? You got what you wanted.”
Ouch.
I try again, stupidly. “I wish you knew how I sorry I am that I hurt you.” The words sound hollow, even to me. I take a step toward her because the distance between us seems so large. But when she takes a matching step back, I realize it’s not the physical distance I was trying to close.
My eyes begin to burn with the realization that she will always be lost to me. There’s no going back. There’s no erasing that can be done. When she leaves this room, I will never see her again. And she will never know that what I feel for her is real.
“I know. Unfortunately, being sorry doesn’t take it all back.” She looks up at me and I want to look away in shame. But I can’t. I force myself to hear the words from her lips that I so don’t want to hear. “Did you ask me here for forgiveness?”
At this point, I feel like a drowning man grasping on to a passing log that keeps slipping out of my grip. “Do you remember when I asked you…when I asked you to wait for me? That I wouldn’t always be in this place…”
She twists her head to the side and looks toward the door, not wanting to hear what I’m saying. What I’m asking. “Michael…” Her tone tells me she wants me to stop. I’ve hit a nerve and that thought encourages me to continue.
“That it wouldn’t always be like that? I know I was dreaming then, because I knew what I had to do. But I swear to you, I didn’t plan on involving you the way I did. I tried to think of any other way. But there wasn’t one.” I want her to know so badly how I feel. “Believe me, I’ve spent the last few years thinking about it. Wondering if there had been another way and I missed it.”
My mind goes back to The Plan, searching, trying to figure out that one thing that would have made it all different. I don’t realize that I’ve zoned out until I hear her call my name.
I turn to look at her and she says, “It’s over, Michael. You need to just let it go now.”
She’s right, of course. But The Plan is still traveling through my head. “Right,” I nod and try to clear my mind. “I have a little trouble letting things go.”
“I’m not some unresolved detail in your plan. I can forgive you, Michael, but that’s all I can give you. I just…I’m happy now. I have a good life and someone who loves me.”
So she’s still with Dr. Davis. I don’t know if she’s trying to convince me or herself, but I don’t think I’m the only one in this cell who noticed she said “someone who loves me” and not “someone I love”. There’s a big difference there.
I step toward her and this time she doesn’t move away. I reach up and touch her cheek. Finally. Her skin feels like silk. “But do you love him?” I ask her.
My name escapes from her lips on a sigh and she leans into my hand. It’s taking every ounce of my self-control right now to not kiss her. Especially when her eyes close as I trace the small crease at the corner of her mouth.
I lean down, my lips hovering so close to hers that I can feel her breath on them. “Do you?” I ask. “Do you love him?”
My heart is hammering inside my chest and my breath escapes me with a shaky sigh. We both know the answer to my question. She wouldn’t be here with me right now if it was yes. But she has to admit it to herself first.
“This is where I don’t answer you.” Her answer crashes over me like a thousand knives and I close my eyes.
When she reaches up to pull my hand from her cheek, I open my eyes and see the tears in hers. She can’t admit it. Even to herself.
We’re a pair, the two of us. Me, so wracked with guilt over hurting her and wanting her so badly it hurts. She, having been hurt and not allowing anyone to get close enough to hurt her that much again.
“I can’t,” she says as she pulls away.
And that’s that. I’ve lost her. Not that I ever had her to begin with, but I gave it a valiant effort. I can see she’s antsy to leave. She’s uncomfortable again. Skittish. So I nod and step away from her, giving her space. “Thank you for coming,” I tell her. It sounds so stupid to say that, but I want to fill the silence.
She doesn’t answer and I watch helplessly as she turns her back to me and heads for the door. And out of my life. I’m a fool. I feel my eyes start to burn again and berate myself to at least wait until she’s gone before breaking down.
She waits at the door for a few seconds longer than she should and I’m about to ask her what’s wrong. I don’t get a chance, though, because in the next instant she’s flying back across the cell and kissing me.
Kissing me silly. Her hands grab at my suit jacket like a lifeline as her lips fuse to mine. I touch her everywhere. I memorize the feel, the taste, the scent of her. I’m so blindsided that I don’t even question it.
I drown in her. Desperate sounds echo off the Plexiglas walls and I haul her up closer against me. God, she feels so good.
But just as quickly as it happens, there’s a knock on the door and she pushes away from me. Her hand covers her mouth and tears swim in her eyes. I’m still recovering from the fact that my arms aren’t around her when she whispers, “Goodbye, Michael.” and bolts out the door.
~~~**~~~
I’m still shell-shocked when I finally leave Fox River for the last time. I’ve got my little box of things. Not sure why, it’s not like I want to keep any of it except for the picture of Lincoln and LJ. I guess it’s that I don’t want to leave any of me behind those walls.
As promised, Lincoln is waiting outside fending off the crowd of reporters and looking anxiously toward me as I make my way out of the gates.
Thoughts of Sara and our kiss temporarily leave me as I weave through the crowd avoiding the reporter’s shouted questions and finally reach my brother.
His hug is fierce and I almost weep with joy before he shoves me in the car and we drive away.
I watch in the side mirror as Fox River gets smaller and smaller behind us and I lean my head back on the seat and smile.
~TBC~