Gratitude and Reflections
Title: Gratitude and Reflections
Author: whatsername
Pairing/Characters (or Gen if no pairing): Pam/Alex; Michael. Mentions of Aldo Burrows, Cameron Mahone
Category: Het, Gen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What I felt was a missing scene following the events of the first episode. Michael and Alex guardedly walking around each other in Sona, and the one reaching a few conclusions about the other.
Spoilers (if any): PB 3.01 Orientaçion
The bright beach umbrellas dotted the courtyard as if this were some charming neighbourhood fair. The brighter Panamanian sun beat down oppressively, betraying the dank fetidness of this very real embodiment of Dante’s Hell. Or maybe this is mere Purgatory. Not yet the fiery inferno of Hades’ dark abode. The eternal fate of all sinners.
Alex Mahone closed his eyes in trepidation of what would await him there, were Sona mere Purgatory. His stomach clenched into a venomous coil, the thought of his latest act of feral murder played back in his mind. It was necessary. It had to be done. A knife in Scofield’s back if he didn’t.
And he needed Scofield right now.
Yet.
The sound of the fighter’s neck snapping beneath his hands in a chilling crunch now played over and over in a mind already assaulted with the sins and evil deeds of one who once swore to be nothing like the monster his father was.
Clandestine deeds the government doesn’t want its citizens to know of carried out by men who must bury part of their souls just to make it to the next day. Special-Ops fighters who do the heinous things in the name of Liberty, Freedom, and Justice. Even then he recoiled, knowing he had to run for his mind and heart to survive. And run he did, into the arms of his sweetheart, Pamela.
And Oscar Shales. He regretted that little, if at all. A murdering rapist. Dead.
But the faces of those who came before and after were seared into his cortex. The nameless ones in his dark past with the military, the mob boss, the kid who looked like a love-sick puppy outside that girl’s front door, the brothers’ father, the vapid henchman sent to deliver the message about his darling baby boy, the con whose labyrinthine mind was its own prison (how he understood the need for such escape) and the Company agent he killed when all hell broke loose in the factory by the dockside.
The sweat coated his grimy skin in another layer of dirt and grease. He’d give anything to scrub it away, wishing he could scrub at his soul, wondering how black it must be by now. Yet inside, his body felt chilled, icy. He shook from deep within. The momentary solace offered by his pen now long gone, empty as he felt his heart was. Void. Nothingness.
How am I going to survive this?
Unbidden, more memories crashed before his eyes. And even against murderous rage and vile acts, these were more unwelcome. They were sheer, unfiltered, torture.
“Mmm…” Pam slid her hand along up Alex’s taut tummy, onwards up to his chest, grazing his nipple along the way. Smiling, she kissed his neck, her soft nakedness warm against his skin, her left leg hooked over her man as they lay peacefully in the languid afterglow of lovemaking, Alex’s tall frame too big for her small dorm room bed. Her hair tumbled onto his face making it impossible to not take in its delightful scent. Alex reached up into the dark velvety feel of his lover’s tresses, and pulled her closer, possessively, for a kiss. But his lips and touch were tender in contrast. She settled down to lay close, the crook of his neck her pillow. He felt her soft breasts against his skin and she lay still, her soft breathing in beat with his, as his hand reached around her, cupping her bottom before resting on one of the hips whose curve Alex was sure was designed to taunt him into submission.
“Pam…?” Alex said after a short silence as her fingers continued playing with the sparse blonde hairs on his chest. His voice broke as he did though, causing her to shift her weight to look at him, concerned.
“Alex?” her brow furrowed, unsure what it was she heard in the tone of his voice.
“Its nothing, Pam” he looked at her, a timid smile. But then away. He pressed closer, and took her soft mouth with his, feeling her warmth. Oh, God. This woman! How is it she does all these things to me. But Pam wasn’t satisfied. She broke their kiss, and held his face gently, a dreamy gaze of a young lover with the warmth of his powerful body around her, yet an expression of playful inquisition on her face.
“All-ex…” this time Pam smiled with intentional mischievousness as she breathed his name, wanting to know what was befuddling this beautiful man’s mind this moment, “tell me!” she ended with a smirk and a gentle squeeze of his firm, perky ass. Alex flinched as she did so, and she wiped his mild bemusement away with another sultry kiss that conquered his mouth. She didn’t know how much he liked being her conquest.
He hesitated. And looked at her again, feeling his face flush. She was so beautiful. And he was so scared.
“Pam…. I love you...”
He felt his face flush even more, burning now.
“Alex….” Pam was stumped. No words could explain the feelings in her heart Alex created. “Alex…” she breathed his name again, and still he was afraid to see what awaited him in her eyes. Gently she lifted his face to hers, and reached to kiss him deeply once more. A soft whimper escaped his lips as she claimed his mouth, a relieved outtake of emotion for all he had kept within in anticipation of her reaction to his confession.
“Oh Pam”
“Alex…” Another kiss. She rolled him onto his back, her mouth trailing a path down his strong chest, feeling with her lips his heart racing beneath. She sat astride his narrow hips as he looked up at her; full breasts and pebbled nipples, his large hands splayed on her slim waist, guiding her to an intense climax even he felt as she shuddered around him. It didn’t take many more thrusts for Alex to reach his; he’d bit his lip hard in making sure he didn’t disappoint his girl. She collapsed onto his chest, bodies and sweat mingling in shared pleasure, the feel of him still inside her. He belonged to her.
The heavy footsteps of cons stomping to the yard drew him from his tortured reverie. How he ached for his Pam. The shivering grew more intense, his need for his pills overwhelming. His hands shook uncontrollably. He drew his knees up and rested his elbows against them, burying his hands in his bowed head in an attempt of giving his hands something to do. Nothing helped. He needed Pam. He needed to hear Cameron scream “DAAAAAAAD!” in the unbridled joy only a child can display. He needed home.
“I guess I owe you thanks…” the sombre tone of Scofield as he stood at the entrance of what was Alex’s cell made him look up. He was still shaking. God, did Scofield have to be here now?
Alex tilted his head and said: “The guy had a knife. You need to be at my hearing.” He looked away.
“Yeah, but…Alex….”
“Leave it, Michael!” There was now an edge in Alex’s voice. The withdrawal was just too damned much right now.
Scofield regarded the former FBI man, standing perfectly still, hands in his hoodie pockets.
“You enjoying the view or what, Michael? Gonna stand there all day?” He knew he was being pissy when just earlier that day he wanted to mend fences. Right now, the shivering and aching and plain need of a pill just wouldn’t fucking go away.
“You killed a man, Alex-.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m good at, right?” Mahone cut him off. He glared at the engineer in blood-curdling coldness.
“…so I didn’t have to, and saved my life, I was going to say.” Scofield intoned, heaviness on his chest. “It doesn’t seem right to say thank you…but I don’t know what else-“
“Just pray, Michael,” again Alex interrupted him, standing, walking right up to adversary, invading his personal space. This time seriousness played on his face which Michael didn’t expect, “that you never have to take a life. Pray hard!” The words came out in a rush, one falling into each other, wishing to escape Scofield’s scrutiny.
He walked past Michael where he stood, former hunter and prey locking eyes as he did so. There was intimacy in this connection, but neither was willing to acknowledge it. Michael was unwavering as he stared back at Alex, and watched his slender frame disappear down the dimly lit corridor. Once more, he tried to make sense of Alexander Mahone. That’s what he did. His mind tried to make sense of things around him. But with the former FBI-man, he always hit a brick wall. He thought back to his meeting with his ex-wife, and her tears in remembrance of their marriage. Mahone couldn’t have been a cold-hearted killer yet have his wife love him as much as she did. She was a smart woman, he could tell from the brief time he spent with her. He often wondered where it all went wrong. And today, he did what Michael couldn’t. He took a man and killed him; violently, ruthlessly, with hands that must’ve at one point cradled a little baby boy. Scofield wondered for a brief few moments if Alex really did care, thinking back to the fighting-dirty advice from a few hours before. But he denied it. Mumbled something about being his ticket out of this hell. But yet he wondered what the man behind the steely blue gaze was really made of; cold-blooded bastard, or family-man gone miserably wrong.
Then it hit Michael; it might be both. He cast his head down at his well-worn shoes, and then walked away. Alexander Mahone was an enigma, one even he may never figure out. Yet at the same time, his life was a darker version of his own. But even more chilling, Alex Mahone might well be Aldo Burrows all over again, and in twenty or so years, Cameron Mahone may very well be dealing with the very same things Michael had to with his own father.
Author: whatsername
Pairing/Characters (or Gen if no pairing): Pam/Alex; Michael. Mentions of Aldo Burrows, Cameron Mahone
Category: Het, Gen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What I felt was a missing scene following the events of the first episode. Michael and Alex guardedly walking around each other in Sona, and the one reaching a few conclusions about the other.
Spoilers (if any): PB 3.01 Orientaçion
The bright beach umbrellas dotted the courtyard as if this were some charming neighbourhood fair. The brighter Panamanian sun beat down oppressively, betraying the dank fetidness of this very real embodiment of Dante’s Hell. Or maybe this is mere Purgatory. Not yet the fiery inferno of Hades’ dark abode. The eternal fate of all sinners.
Alex Mahone closed his eyes in trepidation of what would await him there, were Sona mere Purgatory. His stomach clenched into a venomous coil, the thought of his latest act of feral murder played back in his mind. It was necessary. It had to be done. A knife in Scofield’s back if he didn’t.
And he needed Scofield right now.
Yet.
The sound of the fighter’s neck snapping beneath his hands in a chilling crunch now played over and over in a mind already assaulted with the sins and evil deeds of one who once swore to be nothing like the monster his father was.
Clandestine deeds the government doesn’t want its citizens to know of carried out by men who must bury part of their souls just to make it to the next day. Special-Ops fighters who do the heinous things in the name of Liberty, Freedom, and Justice. Even then he recoiled, knowing he had to run for his mind and heart to survive. And run he did, into the arms of his sweetheart, Pamela.
And Oscar Shales. He regretted that little, if at all. A murdering rapist. Dead.
But the faces of those who came before and after were seared into his cortex. The nameless ones in his dark past with the military, the mob boss, the kid who looked like a love-sick puppy outside that girl’s front door, the brothers’ father, the vapid henchman sent to deliver the message about his darling baby boy, the con whose labyrinthine mind was its own prison (how he understood the need for such escape) and the Company agent he killed when all hell broke loose in the factory by the dockside.
The sweat coated his grimy skin in another layer of dirt and grease. He’d give anything to scrub it away, wishing he could scrub at his soul, wondering how black it must be by now. Yet inside, his body felt chilled, icy. He shook from deep within. The momentary solace offered by his pen now long gone, empty as he felt his heart was. Void. Nothingness.
How am I going to survive this?
Unbidden, more memories crashed before his eyes. And even against murderous rage and vile acts, these were more unwelcome. They were sheer, unfiltered, torture.
“Mmm…” Pam slid her hand along up Alex’s taut tummy, onwards up to his chest, grazing his nipple along the way. Smiling, she kissed his neck, her soft nakedness warm against his skin, her left leg hooked over her man as they lay peacefully in the languid afterglow of lovemaking, Alex’s tall frame too big for her small dorm room bed. Her hair tumbled onto his face making it impossible to not take in its delightful scent. Alex reached up into the dark velvety feel of his lover’s tresses, and pulled her closer, possessively, for a kiss. But his lips and touch were tender in contrast. She settled down to lay close, the crook of his neck her pillow. He felt her soft breasts against his skin and she lay still, her soft breathing in beat with his, as his hand reached around her, cupping her bottom before resting on one of the hips whose curve Alex was sure was designed to taunt him into submission.
“Pam…?” Alex said after a short silence as her fingers continued playing with the sparse blonde hairs on his chest. His voice broke as he did though, causing her to shift her weight to look at him, concerned.
“Alex?” her brow furrowed, unsure what it was she heard in the tone of his voice.
“Its nothing, Pam” he looked at her, a timid smile. But then away. He pressed closer, and took her soft mouth with his, feeling her warmth. Oh, God. This woman! How is it she does all these things to me. But Pam wasn’t satisfied. She broke their kiss, and held his face gently, a dreamy gaze of a young lover with the warmth of his powerful body around her, yet an expression of playful inquisition on her face.
“All-ex…” this time Pam smiled with intentional mischievousness as she breathed his name, wanting to know what was befuddling this beautiful man’s mind this moment, “tell me!” she ended with a smirk and a gentle squeeze of his firm, perky ass. Alex flinched as she did so, and she wiped his mild bemusement away with another sultry kiss that conquered his mouth. She didn’t know how much he liked being her conquest.
He hesitated. And looked at her again, feeling his face flush. She was so beautiful. And he was so scared.
“Pam…. I love you...”
He felt his face flush even more, burning now.
“Alex….” Pam was stumped. No words could explain the feelings in her heart Alex created. “Alex…” she breathed his name again, and still he was afraid to see what awaited him in her eyes. Gently she lifted his face to hers, and reached to kiss him deeply once more. A soft whimper escaped his lips as she claimed his mouth, a relieved outtake of emotion for all he had kept within in anticipation of her reaction to his confession.
“Oh Pam”
“Alex…” Another kiss. She rolled him onto his back, her mouth trailing a path down his strong chest, feeling with her lips his heart racing beneath. She sat astride his narrow hips as he looked up at her; full breasts and pebbled nipples, his large hands splayed on her slim waist, guiding her to an intense climax even he felt as she shuddered around him. It didn’t take many more thrusts for Alex to reach his; he’d bit his lip hard in making sure he didn’t disappoint his girl. She collapsed onto his chest, bodies and sweat mingling in shared pleasure, the feel of him still inside her. He belonged to her.
The heavy footsteps of cons stomping to the yard drew him from his tortured reverie. How he ached for his Pam. The shivering grew more intense, his need for his pills overwhelming. His hands shook uncontrollably. He drew his knees up and rested his elbows against them, burying his hands in his bowed head in an attempt of giving his hands something to do. Nothing helped. He needed Pam. He needed to hear Cameron scream “DAAAAAAAD!” in the unbridled joy only a child can display. He needed home.
“I guess I owe you thanks…” the sombre tone of Scofield as he stood at the entrance of what was Alex’s cell made him look up. He was still shaking. God, did Scofield have to be here now?
Alex tilted his head and said: “The guy had a knife. You need to be at my hearing.” He looked away.
“Yeah, but…Alex….”
“Leave it, Michael!” There was now an edge in Alex’s voice. The withdrawal was just too damned much right now.
Scofield regarded the former FBI man, standing perfectly still, hands in his hoodie pockets.
“You enjoying the view or what, Michael? Gonna stand there all day?” He knew he was being pissy when just earlier that day he wanted to mend fences. Right now, the shivering and aching and plain need of a pill just wouldn’t fucking go away.
“You killed a man, Alex-.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m good at, right?” Mahone cut him off. He glared at the engineer in blood-curdling coldness.
“…so I didn’t have to, and saved my life, I was going to say.” Scofield intoned, heaviness on his chest. “It doesn’t seem right to say thank you…but I don’t know what else-“
“Just pray, Michael,” again Alex interrupted him, standing, walking right up to adversary, invading his personal space. This time seriousness played on his face which Michael didn’t expect, “that you never have to take a life. Pray hard!” The words came out in a rush, one falling into each other, wishing to escape Scofield’s scrutiny.
He walked past Michael where he stood, former hunter and prey locking eyes as he did so. There was intimacy in this connection, but neither was willing to acknowledge it. Michael was unwavering as he stared back at Alex, and watched his slender frame disappear down the dimly lit corridor. Once more, he tried to make sense of Alexander Mahone. That’s what he did. His mind tried to make sense of things around him. But with the former FBI-man, he always hit a brick wall. He thought back to his meeting with his ex-wife, and her tears in remembrance of their marriage. Mahone couldn’t have been a cold-hearted killer yet have his wife love him as much as she did. She was a smart woman, he could tell from the brief time he spent with her. He often wondered where it all went wrong. And today, he did what Michael couldn’t. He took a man and killed him; violently, ruthlessly, with hands that must’ve at one point cradled a little baby boy. Scofield wondered for a brief few moments if Alex really did care, thinking back to the fighting-dirty advice from a few hours before. But he denied it. Mumbled something about being his ticket out of this hell. But yet he wondered what the man behind the steely blue gaze was really made of; cold-blooded bastard, or family-man gone miserably wrong.
Then it hit Michael; it might be both. He cast his head down at his well-worn shoes, and then walked away. Alexander Mahone was an enigma, one even he may never figure out. Yet at the same time, his life was a darker version of his own. But even more chilling, Alex Mahone might well be Aldo Burrows all over again, and in twenty or so years, Cameron Mahone may very well be dealing with the very same things Michael had to with his own father.