Fic!
SCENES BEYOND SONA
By: Anisapologist
Rating: NC-17
Summary: years after Sona, Michael and Alex meet again and fall in love all over again.
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Disclaimer: If I owned PB, Mahone and Michael would both be my bitches.
Three long years after you have left Sona, you are sitting at your kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the paper, when the doorbell rings.
You open the door, thinking it will be Linc or LJ. It’s not them-its Alexander Mahone.
You stare in utter shock into the face of the man who has haunted your dreams for three years or more. He looks better then ever-younger, healthier, and stronger. He smiles a small smile as your eyes find his, "Hello, Michael." he says simply.
"Alex..." is all you can mutter. You stand there for what feels like an eternity, just staring at one another in disbelief.
“May I…come in?” he asks after a beat, looking sheepish.
“Oh, yeah-ofcourse…” you stutter and step aside to let him inside.
“I tried so hard to…forget you…” he begins softly, stroking your face with his fingers as he says it, “I never could.”
You gasp and let him caress you, unable to speak. He kicks the door closed behind him, never breaking contact with your skin, his face so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath when he speaks again, “Michael…please…”
So many unasked questions...and your answer to all of them is the same: "Yes."
Alex Mahone…your nemesis, the man who tried to kill you…your lover…you’d consummated a long held desire for one another against a filthy wall in Sona two weeks after you’d both arrived there, and remained lovers for the months that ensued.
When the escape fell apart, along with the Company, you’d both been transferred to different prisons within the United States. It had been heart wrenching, and you had tried to write to him, keep in touch, but Alex never responded. After a while, you just gave up….now he was standing before you once more, and it felt as if you’d never been apart.
Tears fall unhindered from your eyes as you both stumble together, kiss chastely, fall to the floor when your knees buckle, unable to walk because the emotions coursing through you both are so powerful.
You make love on the floor of your living room, never making it to the bedroom because the passion is too great. And even after years apart, your bodies instantly fall into a groove. You have always known how to please Alex, and he has never failed to take you to the very heights of ecstasy, even when he was less than loving.
It’s different now, though. For one, Alex is obviously sober, and he’s passionate, but also extremely tender in a way that he never was in Sona. You wonder if this is what the real Alex is like in bed-and it makes you smile through your haze of lust.
You make love over and over again through the night; until you are both too exhausted to do anything but sleep.
You dream of Alex. You dream that you are back in Sona and he is fucking you against a wall. As he comes, you look him in the eye and ask, “Is this our happy ending?”
Alex sounds foreboding as he replies, “We don’t get a happy ending.”
You jerk awake then and Alex stirs beside you sleepily, rolling over and curling into your embrace, “Are you okay?” he whispered breathily.
You kiss Alex’s head gently, “I’m fine…go back to sleep…”
He drifts away again, and you wait until his breathing is slow and rhythmic before drawing yourself out of the bed and padding into the bathroom for a drink of water. But by the time you return to the bed, he is sitting up and watching you with those intense blue eyes of his, "What are you thinking?" he asks softly, reaching out to you, taking your hand in his and twining your fingers together and pulling you against his chest tenderly.
"I'm thinking how weird this is...we are." you admit, smirking as you pause to kiss his chest, "Enemies...then lovers...not talking...then you show up and...here we are...in bed...so strange."
He laughs softly and it sounds warm and wonderful to your ears, "Yes, well...we've never been very...conventional, have we?"
For a few moments, you do nothing more than kiss and laugh together in the darkness, then you break the kiss and whisper, "You look good...really good. You're off the drugs?"
Alexander's smile fades and he looks at you solemnly, "Yes, for almost a year now, Michael."
You smile brightly, "Congratulations," you say sincerely, "How did you manage it?"
"Ahhhh," Alex nods slightly, looking down at your hand, "It wasn't easy, that's for sure....I had to be hospitalised for over a month to get over the worst of the withdrawal....after that, I went to...a lot of NA meetings."
You nod, "I'm proud of you--that's great."
"Thankyou," Alex replies softly, kissing you once more, "I wanted to be sober...before I came back to find you."
"I'm glad you found me," you smile, "But...I wasn't exactly hiding--not anymore, anyway...why didn't you call me at least--or pick up when I called you? Let me know you were okay? When you got out, I was so happy-I thought for sure that you’d come and find me, and then….nothing. I thought you were dead, Alex....I was so worried...."
It is the first time that anything close to anger or betrayal has been broached between the two of you since Alexander fell into your arms earlier that day.
Alexander stares at you for a long moment before he answers, "I'm sorry, Michael," he begins slowly, "I just.... couldn’t see you, the way that I was. I was a mess, Michael--much worse then I ever was in Sona. When you...left....I fell apart. I got out of prison, Michael, but I couldn't deal with real life. I nearly killed myself with drugs. I couldn't work, couldn't get out of bed most days....I couldn't let you see me like that. When you would call, I would want to answer so badly, but....I never picked up...I guess because I knew that if you talked to me, heard how bad I was, you'd come back to me, try to save me again. I couldn't pull you back in again...."
You smile sadly, tears filling your eyes, "But I was so worried....I still wanted to talk to you, Alex..."
Alex crushes you against his torso in a bear hug, "I know...I'm so sorry. I would lay there, listening to your messages, and I would just...sob, Michael. Sob and shake and force myself not to pick up. I wanted to. I really, really did....but I couldn't. I'm sorry I hurt you."
“You won’t leave me again?” Michael asked in a soft voice that made Alex’s heart clench-what had he ever done to deserve such a beautiful lover?
“Never, Michael-I’ll never leave you again.” Alex answered solemnly.
The sheets are crisp and clean and the room is darker than dark. It feels so…different.
“Its so strange,” you muse aloud and Alex grunts something incoherent, half asleep, “Making love here…in a proper bed. It feels almost…wrong, you know?”
Alex tightens his grip around your slender waist briefly, “Yeah, I do know what ya mean…” he smiles lazily, and you look up into those pools of endless blue and then you are kissing again.
“I never knew…never knew it could be…like this…” you murmur against overheated skin.
Alex smiles and a lean forward, kisses you fully, deeply.
Dazed you stare at him, “I love you, Alex…”
You’ve said it to him before-but this time it’s different-because this time he smiles warmly down at you and replies gently, “I love you too, Michael…I always did.”
ALEXANDER’S POINT OF VIEW:
ACT III SCENE II
For five years you are happy.
Lincoln pretends to still hold a grudge, but he only has to look at how happy you both are in one another's presence to realise that holding a grudge is pointless. Eventually, he would just smile and shake his head, as if he would never understand either of you, which was just fine with you and Michael.
God, you were so very happy together. You should have known it couldn’t last-Michael was never that lucky.
ACT III SCENE IV--
Looking back, you have known for a long time that something was not right with Michael. You had felt a certain foreboding for a while, but had dismissed it as paranoia.
The two of you always showered together after your morning run. It was erotic and sensual, something both of you appreciated more than most. You would hold one another under the hot spray, caressing, washing, kissing…sometimes it led to more; sometimes not-sometimes it was enough to simply explore one another’s bodies and then go about your day; other times it led to slow, languid lovemaking.
One morning about a month earlier, Michael had fainted in the shower, tumbling to the tiled floor in a heap. It had scared the shit of you. You were shaking as you reached for him, thinking that perhaps he had had a heart attack.
When Michael came to moments later, he looked starkly pale, “What happened?” he asked, sounding drugged.
“I don’t know…” you answered shakily, “You fainted…how do you feel?”
Michael managed a smile, “Okay…sleepy…”
You stared down at him and felt terrified, but your lover reached up, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you down into a deep, sexy kiss---and your fear abated…for the moment.
Later, as you sat at the breakfast table, Michael gave you that look. You knew that look-it was Michael’s way of asking, without words, for sex. You knew one another so well by then that words were often unnecessary between you.
He got up and straddled your waist, leaning down to give you a long, deep, wet kiss.
“I didn’t even finish my breakfast,” you pretended to pout.
Michael shot you a look, his eyes glittering for a moment. Then he reached over and sloppily shoved his hand into the bowl of cereal, grabbing a handful of soggy Corn Flakes and milk.
Your eyes widened in surprise. But the look of surprise turned to one of deep smoky lust as you realised what Michael has in mind.
With a smirk on your face, you opened your mouth as Michael shoved the cereal into it, milk dripping out and down the sides of your face messily.
“Here then-eat it!” Michael said in a low growl.
Then he instantly lowered his mouth to yours, thrusting his tongue into the warm cavern, sharing the food with you, passing it back and forth between their mouths and then swallowing.
You moaned in arousal and thrust upwards against Michael’s taut body, wrapping your arms around Michael’s shoulders and pulling him ever closer. Michael responded by breaking the kiss to lick the milk from your skin, while reaching to grab another messy handful of breakfast, and shoving it into your willing, open mouth.
You were grunting and moaning like animal, the kinkiness of it all only adding to your arousal and desire for each other.
“You’re so dirty,” you breathed, a smile playing across your lips.
Michael returned the smile, “I know….Fuck me..."
So, you did.
Afterwards, you cuddled against the other man’s side, head resting on his lover’s sculpted chest, “I love you…” you whimpered.
“I love you too.” Michael replied sleepily.
You lifted your head, “You just got up! You’re not going back to sleep, are you?”
Michael opened one eye and smirked, “You tired me out!” he joked, "What can I say?"
You did not smile. You studied your lover for a long minute, swallowing hard; obviously lost in thought.
Michael worried at the expression on your face. Opening both eyes now, he sat up on his elbows, “Hey…what’s wrong?”
You felt panicked for a moment-as if you had been caught out. Then shook your head, dismissing the thoughts coursing through your brain, “It’s nothing…sorry. I just…”
“What?” Michael pressed, reaching out to stroke your cheek lovingly, “Tell me.”
You drew in a deep breath and released it, “It’s just…you’re tired a lot lately. Are you feeling okay?”
Michael, mistaking your concern for his health for concern about the state of your relationship, smiled, “I’m fine, you-we’re fine. I just…I’m getting old, that’s all. That’s what happens!”
You cracked a smile that does not reach your eyes, filled with a sense of foreboding, “When was the last time you had a physical?”
Michael gave you a blank look.
“Promise me that you’ll go see a doctor-just for a physical, okay?”
“Okay, okay! I will, I promise-can I take my nap now?” Michael asked, playing at being annoyed.
You managed a small smile and nodded, holding him until he slept.
ACT III SCENE V
That was a month ago. Today your world shatters into a million pieces, never to be whole again.
Michael arrives home from a day spent running errands and finds you in the kitchen.
“So, we have those steaks still, so I was thinking maybe we could grill them…eat outside?” you’re babbling, and you did not know it, but Michael seems to only be catching every third word or so…something about dinner…he stares, dazed, at your back as you stood in the kitchen, making a salad…you can always tell when he is lost in thought, not listening…preoccupied…
You turn and just have to pause and stare at him, “God, you’re gorgeous!” you smile and Michael blushes-he always blushes when you say that. You close the distance between you and kiss his cheek in a lingering way. His smile widens and he turns his head to capture your lips with his own.
“Did you get your results yet?’ you ask casually.
Michael blinks three times before he speaks, “What? Oh…ummm…no, not yet…” he mutters, “So, you want me to set the table outside?”
You smile at him lovingly, “Yeah, that’d be great.”
You eat while you watch the sun set, something that Michael loves to do. You talk a great deal, but you note with an increasing concern that Michael hardly speaks at all. He’s giving one and two word answers-always a sign that something is bothering him.
And you wonder what it could be….
"Dinner was great," Michael smiles warmly.
You smile in return and cock an eyebrow just so, "You liked it, huh? I'm a good househusband? Ya wanna thank me properly?"
"Maybe..." Michael smirks, throwing his napkin on his dinner plate with a dramatic relish.
You stand together and head to the bedroom, giggling like teenagers as you strip out of your clothing and attack one another, making love that is both tender and violent-a perfect blend of who you both are and what your relationship has always been.
***
“Oh….” you sigh softly as he come inside Michael’s body, your neck arched, head thrown back.
Relaxing, you look down at Michael. The other man seems very far away, his eyes distant and sad. When he realises that you are looking at him, he tries to hide it, smiling slightly, but it's too late--you can read him like a book, always could.
Something is bothering Michael-you had noticed it all evening. He looks tired and his smile-always so dazzling-is wane and forced.
“What is it?” you ask huskily, still slightly breathless.
Michael’s eyes lose their focus briefly, and he smiles sadly at you, reaching up to run his long fingers through your short cropped hair, “I…lied to you-before…” he begins ominously.
You flop on to your back on the bed and give Michael a lopsided smile, “I don’t like the sound of that,” he say sardonically.
Michael doesn't look at you, but stares up at the ceiling instead, steeling himself for the hardest conversation of his life.
“You know when you asked if I got the results back yet and I said no? That’s not true…” Michael starts, his voice shaking.
You nod, the smile fading from your face as he realise this is, in fact, something very serious, “What were the results, Michael?”
“I wanted to tell you when I got home…but you were so happy, and you cooked this great dinner and…I didn’t want to ruin it…” he goes on and on.
“Michael, stop!” you cut him off, knowing your lover well enough by now to know that the younger man is stalling and avoiding, “Tell me what the doctor said.”
Michael glances quickly at you, perhaps wanting to look you in the eye when he tells you the results, but unable too. He looks away as he concludes, “I have cancer, Alex. It’s in my liver, and my bones--and there’s nothing they can do for me.”
And that is that.
When you remember how to breathe, you break the awful silence, “There must be something, Michael. You’re young and…” You sit up in bed, running your hands through your hair, as you always do when you are upset, “There has to be something they can do!”
Michael simply shakes his head, “They said they could offer me chemo-that could buy me a few months, but…in the end, there’s nothing they can do.”
There is a long silence. You smile bitterly to yourself. Ironic, wasn’t it? That you both had at last found happiness-and now death would snatch it away.
“I don’t…expect you to....” Michael says in a whisper, “I can go and stay with Lincoln until…”
It hurts you that, even after everything, Michael still is not certain that you are in this for the long haul. He's still convinced that you want to leave him and is still trying to give you the easy way out.
“No,” you say simply, because leaving Michael is not even an option, “You’re staying here with me. This is your home-and I won’t let you leave.”
“You…” Michael begins, not wanting to put you, his best friend and lover through all of this, shaking his head, “I don’t think…”
“I want to be with you, Michael I love you-you’re my life! I…need this. I need to…take care of you. Don’t take that away from me, please.” You beg desperately.
Michael sighs and fights back tears, “I don’t want you to see me like that-at the end? I remember…my mom died of cancer-it was awful…watching her fade away…you want to see that?”
You shake your head, “No,” you reply honestly, “But I will. If that’s what happens, then…we’ll go through it together.”
Michael closes his eyes in resignation. He wasn’t going to win this argument. You are far too loyal a person to let a loved one go through something without being there for them, and he knows that much about you.
“Stay…stay with me…I’ll take care of you…” you whisper and you can tell without looking at Michael that he was crying. You begin to sob as well.
Michael nods and smiles and allows you to hold him close, “I know, Alex-I know you will...don't cry. Don't cry, Alex."
It's silent for a long time while each of you got lost in your own thoughts, but then Michael finds words that you don't want to hear; can't bear to hear: “I’m sorry, Alex…” he whispered, barely audible.
“Don’t,” you say, your voice shaking with emotion, “It’s not your fault…you have nothing to be sorry for.”
Michael swallows thickly and manages a sad smile” I love you, Alex.” He whispers.
He reaches out and clasps his hand with yours and you think that maybe you are betraying Michael just a little bit by accepting all of this so easily. Maybe you should demand that he see more doctors, get second and third opinions?
But then you look at him, and something inside of you twists as you see how tired, how thin...how haggard he looks. How could you not have noticed? You realise then that love must truly be blind--but then again, with Michael, you have known that all along.
You decide right then and there to abide by his wishes-no more doctors, no hospitals. His last days will be on his terms-with you at his side.
ACT III SCENE VI
You move to the beach house.
Michael always loved the beach. Being from the mid west, he hadn’t seen the ocean for the first time until he was ten-and he fell madly in love with it. He decides that he wants his last weeks spent there, and you had smiled at the simple request and handled all the arrangements.
Cameron comes to visit you both there and you play with him on the beach whenever you can to escape the reality that is dawning each day more as Michael grows thinner and weaker with each passing hour.
Michael joined in the fun in the beginning, and then-as his strength waned-he would watch from a chair on the porch, smiling and laughing as you raced up and down the beach, laughing and playing with Cameron.
Michael tells you one day that one thought that gives him comfort when he is depressed is that you he will still have your son when he’s gone. When he says it, you feel as if you cannot breathe.
Today is like so many other days spent on the beach. At last, you wonder up from the beach, begging a respite from Cam, and smiling as you approach Michael,” Need anything?” you ask, kissing the top of his head briefly.
Michael smiles in return and shakes his head, “Have a seat, Alex.”
You sit beside Michael and wait for him to speak He stares at the ocean and forces himself to not cry. You hate these conversations, and you always seem to have them while staring out at the ocean because it is far easier than looking at one another.
“I want to leave the beach house to Cameron-he loves it here so much, and…I want him to have a place where he can remember me. Promise me you won’t sell it?” Michael says in a voice that is strained and quiet.
You nod, unable to look at Michael, watching your boy play on the beach instead.
You feel Michael turn to look at you and you crumble, tears streaking your face as you stare stubbornly at the water.
“I need….I need to know that you’ll be okay…after…after I’m gone.” Michael says, reaching across the small distance to hold your hand in his own lovingly, “I need to know that you won’t let my death…destroy you….please, please promise me that you’ll go on in life and live….please?”
The tears slide down your face and you do nothing to hide them. You nod again, choking on the words-not wanting to say them because it seems again like some sort of betrayal on your part to promise Michael you will live on without him-- but yet knowing what Michael means, and knowing that the other man needs this assurance to let go...to die in peace.
Michael knows what it costs you emotionally to even so much as nod--and he appreciates it. He smiles at you and nods once, and you both simply watched the young boy making sand castles on the beach in silence.
Lincoln comes to stay as Michael’s weakness increases.
The first few days, Michael, and LJ continuously run interference between the two of you, as if to avoid an argument, but at last you find time when LJ is out and Michael is sleeping and you approach Lincoln cautiously.
“Can we talk?’ you say simply.
Lincoln looks up from the TV and eyes you for a moment, then relaxes, “Have a seat,” he says evenly.
You spend the afternoon talking about a great many things. The air is cleared between the two of you in a way that it never had been-never could have been-before.
A few hours later, Michael stumbles out of the bedroom, dishevelled and sleepy, “Hey-you guys aren’t trying to choke each other-that must be a good sign, huh?” he smiled, scratching the back of his neck.
Lincoln gives you a wary smile, “No choking today-maybe tomorrow…”
“That’s right,” you smile, “Just kicking and some biting today.”
Michael laughs. It’s a wonderful sound.
It is a good day--the last one for Michael. After that, he fades quickly. It's as if he were just waiting to say goodbye to Lincoln and LJ--now that they are beside him, he can finally let go.
He spends his days sleeping, and doesn’t have the strength to get out of bed anymore. You sit with him, tend to his needs and try to talk to Lincoln and LJ when Michael is sleeping or unresponsive.
Lincoln looks like a truck has hit him most days. He is not accepting this at all. LJ looks tormented-caught between worry about his dad and worry and sadness for his uncle. You don’t know what to say to Lincoln-what could you ever say to a man who is watching the man who saved his life lose his own? He’s tormented and full of guilt. When Michael finally calls him on it, telling him to stop torturing himself with what he could have done differently and what should have been because it is helping no one, Lincoln shocks you by breaking down completely and sobbing like a small child.
Michael looks as shocked as you do, and watches, half horrified, as Lincoln collapses on the kitchen floor, hysterical, begging Michael to forgive him, telling his brother that he should be the one to die first, not Michael, and that he doesn’t know how to thank Michael for what he did, and never has known, and….he just goes on and on. Eventually, you walk away, unable to listen to his words any longer.
Michael stays, listens calmly, smiles and embraces his brother, tells him that he has nothing to be sorry for and that everything is fine and has worked out the way it was meant to. He is so calm and okay with what is happening, and you are in complete awe of him-and not for the first time.
The two brothers sit on the kitchen floor and cry together, embracing and talking. You sit out on the terrace to give them privacy. LJ joins you. It’s always been…weird being around LJ…you threatened him and nearly killed him back during the manhunt.
But the boy just smiles at you as if reading your mind, “Its okay, you know,” he says casually, sitting beside you, “I forgave you a long time ago.”
You just smile gratefully and sit there with him. You feel overwhelmed by everything that is happening and begin to cry silently. After a moment, LJ silently wraps and arm loosely around your shoulders and holds you close.
***
Thankfully, there is little pain. The drugs and Michael’s calm acceptance of his situation alleviates most of it. He stops eating on a Thursday. He stops drinking on Saturday.
Now it is early Sunday morning, and you know that the end is near. You have slept beside Michael every night for the past five and a half years and you refuse to let that change, regardless of his health.
You awaken beside him and listen to his raspy breathe. At last, you reach for him, take his hand in your own. He stirs, but only slightly. You wonder if you should get up and get Lincoln, but you just don’t want to leave his side, even for a moment. You move closer, take him in your arms. He doesn’t respond.
You curl your body around Michael’s; the younger man too exhausted to do much more then turn his head and kiss your temple lightly.
You lift up and stare down at him warmly, "You're beautiful," you tell him--and its true. Even now, at the end, Michael is the most beautiful person you have ever seen.
You rain kisses all over Michael’s face and the dying man smiles slightly at the touch, but he can feel the tension in you; see the worry lines on your forehead.
"What is it?" he breathes, sounding drugged because he is.
You hate to ask, but you have to know, “Are you in much pain?”
Michael’s eyes grow soft with compassion and he shakes his head slightly, “No...I don’t feel much.”
“What can I do for you?” you ask after a while, "What do you need?"
It’s been like this for so long now--an eternity, it seems. You ask Michael what he needs and then you do for him--you get him his meds, you help him in the shower when he complains that he feels dirty and needs to wash, you feed him soup when he can eat and gently press a cool cloth to his forehead when he sweats. You rub his back when he's kneeling in front of the toilet throwing up, and you tuck him into bed at night. You get him drinks of water and carry his helpless form out onto the porch when he wants to see the ocean and get fresh air....and you do all of this happily and willingly because you love him and you know he would do the same for you--that's what true love is.
But now there is nothing more to do; nothing more to be done and you sense that when you look down into Michael's fading eyes.
“Just hold me…until I’m sleeping?” he whispers, barely audible.
You both know what Michael really means.
Tears spring up in your eyes, and spill onto your cheeks. Then you bite your bottom lip and nod, understanding.
"I love you, Alex..." he whimpers and you know--just know--that those will be the last words that he ever utters.
You gather Michael's emaciated form up in your arms and lay together. You chant a litany of “I love you…I love you…I love you…”
And you keep saying it until Michael stops breathing.
His end is peaceful and for that you are thankful.
When you know that he is truly gone, you gather your strength, kiss his forehead lovingly and get out of bed. You go to Lincoln in the guest room and shake him awake.
He comes awake instantly and starts to sit up, “How is he? What’s going on?” he starts, then he sees the look on your face and he freezes.
“He’s gone, Linc.” You say as gently as you can/
Lincoln’s eyes grow wide for an instant and then he falls back down on his bed, throws his head back to the ceiling and shouts, “No!”
It is loud and guttural and sends shivers down your spine.
LJ rushes into the room and just stand in the doorway staring at the both of you, tears in his eyes. He looks at you for confirmation and when you nod, he simply slides down the length of the doorframe and rests his head in his hands and sobs.
FINALE
The pain of losing Michael isn’t what you thought it would be.
It isn't a devastating kind of grief that you might have expected--it isn't the kind of mind numbing pain that paralyses you.
It's more of an ache, a feeling of incompleteness. You miss Michael as you would miss your left arm. Every happy event is dulled somehow by Michael’s absence; every sad event magnified.
You were afraid that you might turn back to drugs in your pain, but you don’t-perhaps out of respect for Michael and his love for you.
Mostly, you are just lonely--but you never seek another lover. You always shyly demur in favour of spending your nights with your photos and memories.
After all, no one could ever replace Michael.
Then, one afternoon, Cameron finds you alone in your study, looking at old photos.
He’s growing into a fine young man. You smile at him and he returns your smile easily, but his eyes are sad.
“What is it, Cam?” you ask, suddenly concerned.
He hesitates a moment, before saying softly, “Dad, do you think…will you ever get over Michael?”
You take a deep breath and release it.
“I’m…not sure, Cam. I…loved him very much….why do you ask?”
Cameron eyes you and shakes his head, “Its just….before he died, Michael made me promise him something.”
“Really?” you say, surprised. Cam had been young-only ten-when Michael died. You are surprised he would have asked Cam to make any promises; even more surprised that Cam would remember it.
“Yes,” Cam replies, taking your hand in his, “He made me promise to make you live your life…be happy.”
You smile sadly-that was just like Michael, always worried about others, until the very end.
“Really?” you smile sadly at your son.
Cameron merely nods, “And there’s this…guy. I think he you and him…”
You are already shaking your head, “No, I don’t think so, Cam….thanks but…I’m not on the market.”
Cameron smirks at you like Michael used to, “Just meet him? Please? For me?”
For three weeks you continue to refuse to meet this new man, but in the end, you relent.
When have you ever been able to deny your son?
When you arrive at the bar to meet this man that Cameron seems to think is so perfect for you, he is already there, sitting at the bar. He eyes you almost with suspicion-which you find strangely erotic. His eyes are startling blue….he stands when he sees you approach and extends a large hand for you to shake awkwardly.
“I’m Todd…” he smiles and looks away for a second.
You smile, feeling sorry for him, “I’m Alex,” you return needlessly.
You sit and begin to talk. It’s awkward and your stomach clinches. You just want to get up and leave, but you don’t. You remember your promise to Michael-that you would try to live without him.
“My son tells me that you’ve read my book,” you smirk in return,
Todd looks you in the eye once more, “I have. I’m a field agent here in Chicago. Its practically required reading.”
You smile and look down at your hands, “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here. My son wanted me to meet you, but if you’ve read my book, then you know about my relationship with Michael Scofield, and…”
“He died seven years ago, right?” Todd says suddenly, cutting you off.
Seven years….
You had never said it out loud, and hearing how many years it has been makes it sound like so much longer ago…
“Yes,” you reply after a moment, your voice hushed.
“I’m sorry,” Todd says softly, sincerely.
“You shake your head, “No, it’s okay…it’s just…”
“You loved him, it’s okay. I understand-really. I…I don’t expect you to fall madly in love with me or anything. I just….I don’t know…maybe we could just…try?” Todd asks hopefully.
You look back up at him and something awakens within you that you had strongly suspected was long dead-a spike of pure lust shoots through you and you feel drunk with it. It has been so long….
“I don’t want to replace Michael. I know I can’t,” Todd is saying, “I just….I’ve had this crush on you since I read your book, and when I met Cameron and found out you were his father….”
You blush with embarrassment and look away, “We can try…” you offer.
It is an offering you made to Michael years ago in Sona, when you were first becoming lovers. Now you are making the same offer to Todd and the irony is not lost on you.
Hours later, after dinner and more drinks, you find yourself outside of your apartment with Todd. You are talking when he suddenly silences you by throwing himself into your arms-and strangely, you welcome him.
You are kissing deeply and moaning into this new man’s mouth with renewed desire.
“Take me upstairs…” Todd whimpers when you finally break the endless, wet kiss.
You can barely muster a nod through the haze of pleasure spiking through your system. It has been seven years and you are finally-finally-ready.
Later still, buried to the hilt inside Todd’s lithe form, his legs pressed back, nearly over his head, you lower your head, half expecting to lick inked skin. Instead you find clear, white unblemished skin, and are thrown momentarily.
Todd sees your face and smiles up at you, reaching up to stroke your lean face, “You still miss him?”
“Always…” you whisper.
“Its okay,” Todd replies softly, kisses you, “I understand…”
You smile down at this beautiful understanding man. You begin to make love once more, and it feels amazing.
“God, Todd!” you groan and come endlessly. It feels so good you nearly cry. Todd moans and comes against your belly, warm and wet.
You both lay entwined and hold one another.
It is a beginning. A new beginning.
You can feel Michael there, almost as if he is standing beside the bed-and strangely, it feels just fine. There is no guilt or sadness.
You just know Michael is smiling.
Finis
By: Anisapologist
Rating: NC-17
Summary: years after Sona, Michael and Alex meet again and fall in love all over again.
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Disclaimer: If I owned PB, Mahone and Michael would both be my bitches.
Three long years after you have left Sona, you are sitting at your kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the paper, when the doorbell rings.
You open the door, thinking it will be Linc or LJ. It’s not them-its Alexander Mahone.
You stare in utter shock into the face of the man who has haunted your dreams for three years or more. He looks better then ever-younger, healthier, and stronger. He smiles a small smile as your eyes find his, "Hello, Michael." he says simply.
"Alex..." is all you can mutter. You stand there for what feels like an eternity, just staring at one another in disbelief.
“May I…come in?” he asks after a beat, looking sheepish.
“Oh, yeah-ofcourse…” you stutter and step aside to let him inside.
“I tried so hard to…forget you…” he begins softly, stroking your face with his fingers as he says it, “I never could.”
You gasp and let him caress you, unable to speak. He kicks the door closed behind him, never breaking contact with your skin, his face so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath when he speaks again, “Michael…please…”
So many unasked questions...and your answer to all of them is the same: "Yes."
Alex Mahone…your nemesis, the man who tried to kill you…your lover…you’d consummated a long held desire for one another against a filthy wall in Sona two weeks after you’d both arrived there, and remained lovers for the months that ensued.
When the escape fell apart, along with the Company, you’d both been transferred to different prisons within the United States. It had been heart wrenching, and you had tried to write to him, keep in touch, but Alex never responded. After a while, you just gave up….now he was standing before you once more, and it felt as if you’d never been apart.
Tears fall unhindered from your eyes as you both stumble together, kiss chastely, fall to the floor when your knees buckle, unable to walk because the emotions coursing through you both are so powerful.
You make love on the floor of your living room, never making it to the bedroom because the passion is too great. And even after years apart, your bodies instantly fall into a groove. You have always known how to please Alex, and he has never failed to take you to the very heights of ecstasy, even when he was less than loving.
It’s different now, though. For one, Alex is obviously sober, and he’s passionate, but also extremely tender in a way that he never was in Sona. You wonder if this is what the real Alex is like in bed-and it makes you smile through your haze of lust.
You make love over and over again through the night; until you are both too exhausted to do anything but sleep.
You dream of Alex. You dream that you are back in Sona and he is fucking you against a wall. As he comes, you look him in the eye and ask, “Is this our happy ending?”
Alex sounds foreboding as he replies, “We don’t get a happy ending.”
You jerk awake then and Alex stirs beside you sleepily, rolling over and curling into your embrace, “Are you okay?” he whispered breathily.
You kiss Alex’s head gently, “I’m fine…go back to sleep…”
He drifts away again, and you wait until his breathing is slow and rhythmic before drawing yourself out of the bed and padding into the bathroom for a drink of water. But by the time you return to the bed, he is sitting up and watching you with those intense blue eyes of his, "What are you thinking?" he asks softly, reaching out to you, taking your hand in his and twining your fingers together and pulling you against his chest tenderly.
"I'm thinking how weird this is...we are." you admit, smirking as you pause to kiss his chest, "Enemies...then lovers...not talking...then you show up and...here we are...in bed...so strange."
He laughs softly and it sounds warm and wonderful to your ears, "Yes, well...we've never been very...conventional, have we?"
For a few moments, you do nothing more than kiss and laugh together in the darkness, then you break the kiss and whisper, "You look good...really good. You're off the drugs?"
Alexander's smile fades and he looks at you solemnly, "Yes, for almost a year now, Michael."
You smile brightly, "Congratulations," you say sincerely, "How did you manage it?"
"Ahhhh," Alex nods slightly, looking down at your hand, "It wasn't easy, that's for sure....I had to be hospitalised for over a month to get over the worst of the withdrawal....after that, I went to...a lot of NA meetings."
You nod, "I'm proud of you--that's great."
"Thankyou," Alex replies softly, kissing you once more, "I wanted to be sober...before I came back to find you."
"I'm glad you found me," you smile, "But...I wasn't exactly hiding--not anymore, anyway...why didn't you call me at least--or pick up when I called you? Let me know you were okay? When you got out, I was so happy-I thought for sure that you’d come and find me, and then….nothing. I thought you were dead, Alex....I was so worried...."
It is the first time that anything close to anger or betrayal has been broached between the two of you since Alexander fell into your arms earlier that day.
Alexander stares at you for a long moment before he answers, "I'm sorry, Michael," he begins slowly, "I just.... couldn’t see you, the way that I was. I was a mess, Michael--much worse then I ever was in Sona. When you...left....I fell apart. I got out of prison, Michael, but I couldn't deal with real life. I nearly killed myself with drugs. I couldn't work, couldn't get out of bed most days....I couldn't let you see me like that. When you would call, I would want to answer so badly, but....I never picked up...I guess because I knew that if you talked to me, heard how bad I was, you'd come back to me, try to save me again. I couldn't pull you back in again...."
You smile sadly, tears filling your eyes, "But I was so worried....I still wanted to talk to you, Alex..."
Alex crushes you against his torso in a bear hug, "I know...I'm so sorry. I would lay there, listening to your messages, and I would just...sob, Michael. Sob and shake and force myself not to pick up. I wanted to. I really, really did....but I couldn't. I'm sorry I hurt you."
“You won’t leave me again?” Michael asked in a soft voice that made Alex’s heart clench-what had he ever done to deserve such a beautiful lover?
“Never, Michael-I’ll never leave you again.” Alex answered solemnly.
The sheets are crisp and clean and the room is darker than dark. It feels so…different.
“Its so strange,” you muse aloud and Alex grunts something incoherent, half asleep, “Making love here…in a proper bed. It feels almost…wrong, you know?”
Alex tightens his grip around your slender waist briefly, “Yeah, I do know what ya mean…” he smiles lazily, and you look up into those pools of endless blue and then you are kissing again.
“I never knew…never knew it could be…like this…” you murmur against overheated skin.
Alex smiles and a lean forward, kisses you fully, deeply.
Dazed you stare at him, “I love you, Alex…”
You’ve said it to him before-but this time it’s different-because this time he smiles warmly down at you and replies gently, “I love you too, Michael…I always did.”
ALEXANDER’S POINT OF VIEW:
ACT III SCENE II
For five years you are happy.
Lincoln pretends to still hold a grudge, but he only has to look at how happy you both are in one another's presence to realise that holding a grudge is pointless. Eventually, he would just smile and shake his head, as if he would never understand either of you, which was just fine with you and Michael.
God, you were so very happy together. You should have known it couldn’t last-Michael was never that lucky.
ACT III SCENE IV--
Looking back, you have known for a long time that something was not right with Michael. You had felt a certain foreboding for a while, but had dismissed it as paranoia.
The two of you always showered together after your morning run. It was erotic and sensual, something both of you appreciated more than most. You would hold one another under the hot spray, caressing, washing, kissing…sometimes it led to more; sometimes not-sometimes it was enough to simply explore one another’s bodies and then go about your day; other times it led to slow, languid lovemaking.
One morning about a month earlier, Michael had fainted in the shower, tumbling to the tiled floor in a heap. It had scared the shit of you. You were shaking as you reached for him, thinking that perhaps he had had a heart attack.
When Michael came to moments later, he looked starkly pale, “What happened?” he asked, sounding drugged.
“I don’t know…” you answered shakily, “You fainted…how do you feel?”
Michael managed a smile, “Okay…sleepy…”
You stared down at him and felt terrified, but your lover reached up, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you down into a deep, sexy kiss---and your fear abated…for the moment.
Later, as you sat at the breakfast table, Michael gave you that look. You knew that look-it was Michael’s way of asking, without words, for sex. You knew one another so well by then that words were often unnecessary between you.
He got up and straddled your waist, leaning down to give you a long, deep, wet kiss.
“I didn’t even finish my breakfast,” you pretended to pout.
Michael shot you a look, his eyes glittering for a moment. Then he reached over and sloppily shoved his hand into the bowl of cereal, grabbing a handful of soggy Corn Flakes and milk.
Your eyes widened in surprise. But the look of surprise turned to one of deep smoky lust as you realised what Michael has in mind.
With a smirk on your face, you opened your mouth as Michael shoved the cereal into it, milk dripping out and down the sides of your face messily.
“Here then-eat it!” Michael said in a low growl.
Then he instantly lowered his mouth to yours, thrusting his tongue into the warm cavern, sharing the food with you, passing it back and forth between their mouths and then swallowing.
You moaned in arousal and thrust upwards against Michael’s taut body, wrapping your arms around Michael’s shoulders and pulling him ever closer. Michael responded by breaking the kiss to lick the milk from your skin, while reaching to grab another messy handful of breakfast, and shoving it into your willing, open mouth.
You were grunting and moaning like animal, the kinkiness of it all only adding to your arousal and desire for each other.
“You’re so dirty,” you breathed, a smile playing across your lips.
Michael returned the smile, “I know….Fuck me..."
So, you did.
Afterwards, you cuddled against the other man’s side, head resting on his lover’s sculpted chest, “I love you…” you whimpered.
“I love you too.” Michael replied sleepily.
You lifted your head, “You just got up! You’re not going back to sleep, are you?”
Michael opened one eye and smirked, “You tired me out!” he joked, "What can I say?"
You did not smile. You studied your lover for a long minute, swallowing hard; obviously lost in thought.
Michael worried at the expression on your face. Opening both eyes now, he sat up on his elbows, “Hey…what’s wrong?”
You felt panicked for a moment-as if you had been caught out. Then shook your head, dismissing the thoughts coursing through your brain, “It’s nothing…sorry. I just…”
“What?” Michael pressed, reaching out to stroke your cheek lovingly, “Tell me.”
You drew in a deep breath and released it, “It’s just…you’re tired a lot lately. Are you feeling okay?”
Michael, mistaking your concern for his health for concern about the state of your relationship, smiled, “I’m fine, you-we’re fine. I just…I’m getting old, that’s all. That’s what happens!”
You cracked a smile that does not reach your eyes, filled with a sense of foreboding, “When was the last time you had a physical?”
Michael gave you a blank look.
“Promise me that you’ll go see a doctor-just for a physical, okay?”
“Okay, okay! I will, I promise-can I take my nap now?” Michael asked, playing at being annoyed.
You managed a small smile and nodded, holding him until he slept.
ACT III SCENE V
That was a month ago. Today your world shatters into a million pieces, never to be whole again.
Michael arrives home from a day spent running errands and finds you in the kitchen.
“So, we have those steaks still, so I was thinking maybe we could grill them…eat outside?” you’re babbling, and you did not know it, but Michael seems to only be catching every third word or so…something about dinner…he stares, dazed, at your back as you stood in the kitchen, making a salad…you can always tell when he is lost in thought, not listening…preoccupied…
You turn and just have to pause and stare at him, “God, you’re gorgeous!” you smile and Michael blushes-he always blushes when you say that. You close the distance between you and kiss his cheek in a lingering way. His smile widens and he turns his head to capture your lips with his own.
“Did you get your results yet?’ you ask casually.
Michael blinks three times before he speaks, “What? Oh…ummm…no, not yet…” he mutters, “So, you want me to set the table outside?”
You smile at him lovingly, “Yeah, that’d be great.”
You eat while you watch the sun set, something that Michael loves to do. You talk a great deal, but you note with an increasing concern that Michael hardly speaks at all. He’s giving one and two word answers-always a sign that something is bothering him.
And you wonder what it could be….
"Dinner was great," Michael smiles warmly.
You smile in return and cock an eyebrow just so, "You liked it, huh? I'm a good househusband? Ya wanna thank me properly?"
"Maybe..." Michael smirks, throwing his napkin on his dinner plate with a dramatic relish.
You stand together and head to the bedroom, giggling like teenagers as you strip out of your clothing and attack one another, making love that is both tender and violent-a perfect blend of who you both are and what your relationship has always been.
***
“Oh….” you sigh softly as he come inside Michael’s body, your neck arched, head thrown back.
Relaxing, you look down at Michael. The other man seems very far away, his eyes distant and sad. When he realises that you are looking at him, he tries to hide it, smiling slightly, but it's too late--you can read him like a book, always could.
Something is bothering Michael-you had noticed it all evening. He looks tired and his smile-always so dazzling-is wane and forced.
“What is it?” you ask huskily, still slightly breathless.
Michael’s eyes lose their focus briefly, and he smiles sadly at you, reaching up to run his long fingers through your short cropped hair, “I…lied to you-before…” he begins ominously.
You flop on to your back on the bed and give Michael a lopsided smile, “I don’t like the sound of that,” he say sardonically.
Michael doesn't look at you, but stares up at the ceiling instead, steeling himself for the hardest conversation of his life.
“You know when you asked if I got the results back yet and I said no? That’s not true…” Michael starts, his voice shaking.
You nod, the smile fading from your face as he realise this is, in fact, something very serious, “What were the results, Michael?”
“I wanted to tell you when I got home…but you were so happy, and you cooked this great dinner and…I didn’t want to ruin it…” he goes on and on.
“Michael, stop!” you cut him off, knowing your lover well enough by now to know that the younger man is stalling and avoiding, “Tell me what the doctor said.”
Michael glances quickly at you, perhaps wanting to look you in the eye when he tells you the results, but unable too. He looks away as he concludes, “I have cancer, Alex. It’s in my liver, and my bones--and there’s nothing they can do for me.”
And that is that.
When you remember how to breathe, you break the awful silence, “There must be something, Michael. You’re young and…” You sit up in bed, running your hands through your hair, as you always do when you are upset, “There has to be something they can do!”
Michael simply shakes his head, “They said they could offer me chemo-that could buy me a few months, but…in the end, there’s nothing they can do.”
There is a long silence. You smile bitterly to yourself. Ironic, wasn’t it? That you both had at last found happiness-and now death would snatch it away.
“I don’t…expect you to....” Michael says in a whisper, “I can go and stay with Lincoln until…”
It hurts you that, even after everything, Michael still is not certain that you are in this for the long haul. He's still convinced that you want to leave him and is still trying to give you the easy way out.
“No,” you say simply, because leaving Michael is not even an option, “You’re staying here with me. This is your home-and I won’t let you leave.”
“You…” Michael begins, not wanting to put you, his best friend and lover through all of this, shaking his head, “I don’t think…”
“I want to be with you, Michael I love you-you’re my life! I…need this. I need to…take care of you. Don’t take that away from me, please.” You beg desperately.
Michael sighs and fights back tears, “I don’t want you to see me like that-at the end? I remember…my mom died of cancer-it was awful…watching her fade away…you want to see that?”
You shake your head, “No,” you reply honestly, “But I will. If that’s what happens, then…we’ll go through it together.”
Michael closes his eyes in resignation. He wasn’t going to win this argument. You are far too loyal a person to let a loved one go through something without being there for them, and he knows that much about you.
“Stay…stay with me…I’ll take care of you…” you whisper and you can tell without looking at Michael that he was crying. You begin to sob as well.
Michael nods and smiles and allows you to hold him close, “I know, Alex-I know you will...don't cry. Don't cry, Alex."
It's silent for a long time while each of you got lost in your own thoughts, but then Michael finds words that you don't want to hear; can't bear to hear: “I’m sorry, Alex…” he whispered, barely audible.
“Don’t,” you say, your voice shaking with emotion, “It’s not your fault…you have nothing to be sorry for.”
Michael swallows thickly and manages a sad smile” I love you, Alex.” He whispers.
He reaches out and clasps his hand with yours and you think that maybe you are betraying Michael just a little bit by accepting all of this so easily. Maybe you should demand that he see more doctors, get second and third opinions?
But then you look at him, and something inside of you twists as you see how tired, how thin...how haggard he looks. How could you not have noticed? You realise then that love must truly be blind--but then again, with Michael, you have known that all along.
You decide right then and there to abide by his wishes-no more doctors, no hospitals. His last days will be on his terms-with you at his side.
ACT III SCENE VI
You move to the beach house.
Michael always loved the beach. Being from the mid west, he hadn’t seen the ocean for the first time until he was ten-and he fell madly in love with it. He decides that he wants his last weeks spent there, and you had smiled at the simple request and handled all the arrangements.
Cameron comes to visit you both there and you play with him on the beach whenever you can to escape the reality that is dawning each day more as Michael grows thinner and weaker with each passing hour.
Michael joined in the fun in the beginning, and then-as his strength waned-he would watch from a chair on the porch, smiling and laughing as you raced up and down the beach, laughing and playing with Cameron.
Michael tells you one day that one thought that gives him comfort when he is depressed is that you he will still have your son when he’s gone. When he says it, you feel as if you cannot breathe.
Today is like so many other days spent on the beach. At last, you wonder up from the beach, begging a respite from Cam, and smiling as you approach Michael,” Need anything?” you ask, kissing the top of his head briefly.
Michael smiles in return and shakes his head, “Have a seat, Alex.”
You sit beside Michael and wait for him to speak He stares at the ocean and forces himself to not cry. You hate these conversations, and you always seem to have them while staring out at the ocean because it is far easier than looking at one another.
“I want to leave the beach house to Cameron-he loves it here so much, and…I want him to have a place where he can remember me. Promise me you won’t sell it?” Michael says in a voice that is strained and quiet.
You nod, unable to look at Michael, watching your boy play on the beach instead.
You feel Michael turn to look at you and you crumble, tears streaking your face as you stare stubbornly at the water.
“I need….I need to know that you’ll be okay…after…after I’m gone.” Michael says, reaching across the small distance to hold your hand in his own lovingly, “I need to know that you won’t let my death…destroy you….please, please promise me that you’ll go on in life and live….please?”
The tears slide down your face and you do nothing to hide them. You nod again, choking on the words-not wanting to say them because it seems again like some sort of betrayal on your part to promise Michael you will live on without him-- but yet knowing what Michael means, and knowing that the other man needs this assurance to let go...to die in peace.
Michael knows what it costs you emotionally to even so much as nod--and he appreciates it. He smiles at you and nods once, and you both simply watched the young boy making sand castles on the beach in silence.
Lincoln comes to stay as Michael’s weakness increases.
The first few days, Michael, and LJ continuously run interference between the two of you, as if to avoid an argument, but at last you find time when LJ is out and Michael is sleeping and you approach Lincoln cautiously.
“Can we talk?’ you say simply.
Lincoln looks up from the TV and eyes you for a moment, then relaxes, “Have a seat,” he says evenly.
You spend the afternoon talking about a great many things. The air is cleared between the two of you in a way that it never had been-never could have been-before.
A few hours later, Michael stumbles out of the bedroom, dishevelled and sleepy, “Hey-you guys aren’t trying to choke each other-that must be a good sign, huh?” he smiled, scratching the back of his neck.
Lincoln gives you a wary smile, “No choking today-maybe tomorrow…”
“That’s right,” you smile, “Just kicking and some biting today.”
Michael laughs. It’s a wonderful sound.
It is a good day--the last one for Michael. After that, he fades quickly. It's as if he were just waiting to say goodbye to Lincoln and LJ--now that they are beside him, he can finally let go.
He spends his days sleeping, and doesn’t have the strength to get out of bed anymore. You sit with him, tend to his needs and try to talk to Lincoln and LJ when Michael is sleeping or unresponsive.
Lincoln looks like a truck has hit him most days. He is not accepting this at all. LJ looks tormented-caught between worry about his dad and worry and sadness for his uncle. You don’t know what to say to Lincoln-what could you ever say to a man who is watching the man who saved his life lose his own? He’s tormented and full of guilt. When Michael finally calls him on it, telling him to stop torturing himself with what he could have done differently and what should have been because it is helping no one, Lincoln shocks you by breaking down completely and sobbing like a small child.
Michael looks as shocked as you do, and watches, half horrified, as Lincoln collapses on the kitchen floor, hysterical, begging Michael to forgive him, telling his brother that he should be the one to die first, not Michael, and that he doesn’t know how to thank Michael for what he did, and never has known, and….he just goes on and on. Eventually, you walk away, unable to listen to his words any longer.
Michael stays, listens calmly, smiles and embraces his brother, tells him that he has nothing to be sorry for and that everything is fine and has worked out the way it was meant to. He is so calm and okay with what is happening, and you are in complete awe of him-and not for the first time.
The two brothers sit on the kitchen floor and cry together, embracing and talking. You sit out on the terrace to give them privacy. LJ joins you. It’s always been…weird being around LJ…you threatened him and nearly killed him back during the manhunt.
But the boy just smiles at you as if reading your mind, “Its okay, you know,” he says casually, sitting beside you, “I forgave you a long time ago.”
You just smile gratefully and sit there with him. You feel overwhelmed by everything that is happening and begin to cry silently. After a moment, LJ silently wraps and arm loosely around your shoulders and holds you close.
***
Thankfully, there is little pain. The drugs and Michael’s calm acceptance of his situation alleviates most of it. He stops eating on a Thursday. He stops drinking on Saturday.
Now it is early Sunday morning, and you know that the end is near. You have slept beside Michael every night for the past five and a half years and you refuse to let that change, regardless of his health.
You awaken beside him and listen to his raspy breathe. At last, you reach for him, take his hand in your own. He stirs, but only slightly. You wonder if you should get up and get Lincoln, but you just don’t want to leave his side, even for a moment. You move closer, take him in your arms. He doesn’t respond.
You curl your body around Michael’s; the younger man too exhausted to do much more then turn his head and kiss your temple lightly.
You lift up and stare down at him warmly, "You're beautiful," you tell him--and its true. Even now, at the end, Michael is the most beautiful person you have ever seen.
You rain kisses all over Michael’s face and the dying man smiles slightly at the touch, but he can feel the tension in you; see the worry lines on your forehead.
"What is it?" he breathes, sounding drugged because he is.
You hate to ask, but you have to know, “Are you in much pain?”
Michael’s eyes grow soft with compassion and he shakes his head slightly, “No...I don’t feel much.”
“What can I do for you?” you ask after a while, "What do you need?"
It’s been like this for so long now--an eternity, it seems. You ask Michael what he needs and then you do for him--you get him his meds, you help him in the shower when he complains that he feels dirty and needs to wash, you feed him soup when he can eat and gently press a cool cloth to his forehead when he sweats. You rub his back when he's kneeling in front of the toilet throwing up, and you tuck him into bed at night. You get him drinks of water and carry his helpless form out onto the porch when he wants to see the ocean and get fresh air....and you do all of this happily and willingly because you love him and you know he would do the same for you--that's what true love is.
But now there is nothing more to do; nothing more to be done and you sense that when you look down into Michael's fading eyes.
“Just hold me…until I’m sleeping?” he whispers, barely audible.
You both know what Michael really means.
Tears spring up in your eyes, and spill onto your cheeks. Then you bite your bottom lip and nod, understanding.
"I love you, Alex..." he whimpers and you know--just know--that those will be the last words that he ever utters.
You gather Michael's emaciated form up in your arms and lay together. You chant a litany of “I love you…I love you…I love you…”
And you keep saying it until Michael stops breathing.
His end is peaceful and for that you are thankful.
When you know that he is truly gone, you gather your strength, kiss his forehead lovingly and get out of bed. You go to Lincoln in the guest room and shake him awake.
He comes awake instantly and starts to sit up, “How is he? What’s going on?” he starts, then he sees the look on your face and he freezes.
“He’s gone, Linc.” You say as gently as you can/
Lincoln’s eyes grow wide for an instant and then he falls back down on his bed, throws his head back to the ceiling and shouts, “No!”
It is loud and guttural and sends shivers down your spine.
LJ rushes into the room and just stand in the doorway staring at the both of you, tears in his eyes. He looks at you for confirmation and when you nod, he simply slides down the length of the doorframe and rests his head in his hands and sobs.
FINALE
The pain of losing Michael isn’t what you thought it would be.
It isn't a devastating kind of grief that you might have expected--it isn't the kind of mind numbing pain that paralyses you.
It's more of an ache, a feeling of incompleteness. You miss Michael as you would miss your left arm. Every happy event is dulled somehow by Michael’s absence; every sad event magnified.
You were afraid that you might turn back to drugs in your pain, but you don’t-perhaps out of respect for Michael and his love for you.
Mostly, you are just lonely--but you never seek another lover. You always shyly demur in favour of spending your nights with your photos and memories.
After all, no one could ever replace Michael.
Then, one afternoon, Cameron finds you alone in your study, looking at old photos.
He’s growing into a fine young man. You smile at him and he returns your smile easily, but his eyes are sad.
“What is it, Cam?” you ask, suddenly concerned.
He hesitates a moment, before saying softly, “Dad, do you think…will you ever get over Michael?”
You take a deep breath and release it.
“I’m…not sure, Cam. I…loved him very much….why do you ask?”
Cameron eyes you and shakes his head, “Its just….before he died, Michael made me promise him something.”
“Really?” you say, surprised. Cam had been young-only ten-when Michael died. You are surprised he would have asked Cam to make any promises; even more surprised that Cam would remember it.
“Yes,” Cam replies, taking your hand in his, “He made me promise to make you live your life…be happy.”
You smile sadly-that was just like Michael, always worried about others, until the very end.
“Really?” you smile sadly at your son.
Cameron merely nods, “And there’s this…guy. I think he you and him…”
You are already shaking your head, “No, I don’t think so, Cam….thanks but…I’m not on the market.”
Cameron smirks at you like Michael used to, “Just meet him? Please? For me?”
For three weeks you continue to refuse to meet this new man, but in the end, you relent.
When have you ever been able to deny your son?
When you arrive at the bar to meet this man that Cameron seems to think is so perfect for you, he is already there, sitting at the bar. He eyes you almost with suspicion-which you find strangely erotic. His eyes are startling blue….he stands when he sees you approach and extends a large hand for you to shake awkwardly.
“I’m Todd…” he smiles and looks away for a second.
You smile, feeling sorry for him, “I’m Alex,” you return needlessly.
You sit and begin to talk. It’s awkward and your stomach clinches. You just want to get up and leave, but you don’t. You remember your promise to Michael-that you would try to live without him.
“My son tells me that you’ve read my book,” you smirk in return,
Todd looks you in the eye once more, “I have. I’m a field agent here in Chicago. Its practically required reading.”
You smile and look down at your hands, “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here. My son wanted me to meet you, but if you’ve read my book, then you know about my relationship with Michael Scofield, and…”
“He died seven years ago, right?” Todd says suddenly, cutting you off.
Seven years….
You had never said it out loud, and hearing how many years it has been makes it sound like so much longer ago…
“Yes,” you reply after a moment, your voice hushed.
“I’m sorry,” Todd says softly, sincerely.
“You shake your head, “No, it’s okay…it’s just…”
“You loved him, it’s okay. I understand-really. I…I don’t expect you to fall madly in love with me or anything. I just….I don’t know…maybe we could just…try?” Todd asks hopefully.
You look back up at him and something awakens within you that you had strongly suspected was long dead-a spike of pure lust shoots through you and you feel drunk with it. It has been so long….
“I don’t want to replace Michael. I know I can’t,” Todd is saying, “I just….I’ve had this crush on you since I read your book, and when I met Cameron and found out you were his father….”
You blush with embarrassment and look away, “We can try…” you offer.
It is an offering you made to Michael years ago in Sona, when you were first becoming lovers. Now you are making the same offer to Todd and the irony is not lost on you.
Hours later, after dinner and more drinks, you find yourself outside of your apartment with Todd. You are talking when he suddenly silences you by throwing himself into your arms-and strangely, you welcome him.
You are kissing deeply and moaning into this new man’s mouth with renewed desire.
“Take me upstairs…” Todd whimpers when you finally break the endless, wet kiss.
You can barely muster a nod through the haze of pleasure spiking through your system. It has been seven years and you are finally-finally-ready.
Later still, buried to the hilt inside Todd’s lithe form, his legs pressed back, nearly over his head, you lower your head, half expecting to lick inked skin. Instead you find clear, white unblemished skin, and are thrown momentarily.
Todd sees your face and smiles up at you, reaching up to stroke your lean face, “You still miss him?”
“Always…” you whisper.
“Its okay,” Todd replies softly, kisses you, “I understand…”
You smile down at this beautiful understanding man. You begin to make love once more, and it feels amazing.
“God, Todd!” you groan and come endlessly. It feels so good you nearly cry. Todd moans and comes against your belly, warm and wet.
You both lay entwined and hold one another.
It is a beginning. A new beginning.
You can feel Michael there, almost as if he is standing beside the bed-and strangely, it feels just fine. There is no guilt or sadness.
You just know Michael is smiling.
Finis