Conclusion!

[anisapologist]

LOVE AND COMPLICATIONS-FINALE
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Michael/Alex
Summary: Michael begins the healing process with Alex at his side.
Disclaimer: If I owned PB, it would get a fourth season.
Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who commented on previous instalments. I hope you like the way it all turns out in the end.



When Lincoln Burrows had been younger, he had never been a very introspective person. He did, he did not think. In fact, it had often been his downfall. He rarely thought about things before he acted, and even when he knew that what he had done in the past was wrong, he rarely focused on it. Even long months spent behind bars where all he could really do was think, had not changed him. He still acted and rarely thought.

Not anymore.

For years now-ever since the whole escape plan at Fox River, Lincoln woke up each morning and lay in bed for a long time before he got up. He would lie there and stare at the ceiling and think about things. Just think and think until he was sure that his head would explode with the pain, the images, and the endless thoughts.

He would think about all of the innocent people who had died so that he might live, and he often thought specifically about Veronica, perhaps the only true love of his entire life. He thought about Sara a great deal to-finding her head in that box still gave him brutal nightmares…but more than anyone else, Lincoln thought about Michael.

He thought about all the many, many times he had let Michael down. The times he hit his brother when he should have talked to him instead, the times he abandoned his brother and left him to the care of strangers who hurt him…the times he touched Michael in ways a brother should never touch a brother….the memories haunted him.

He also thought about Michael’s myriad of problems that had never been properly addressed. Back when he was supporting Michael, medical insurance had been beyond their grasp, and so Michael never got the necessary help he needed to control his LLI, his obsessive tendencies, or his emotional problems. He never received therapy for the abuse he had suffered from. Only now, in retrospect, did Lincoln realise how important it had been for him to get that help-and it just added to his already immense guilt that he had not been able to provide it for his little brother.

Lincoln had never thought very much of himself. He knew he was a thug, a con, and white trash from the wrong side of town. He didn’t really care, except when people who were so much better than him-people who could and did make a difference in the world-started dying so he could live, escape and run.

And it was only when he stopped running that he had been able to fully comprehend the extend of the damage in his name. It had nearly driven him insane. If he hadn’t gotten help when he did, he might very well have committed suicide. He spent months in deep depression, and many more months in intensive therapy. It had saved him-now he hoped it would do the same for Michael.

Lincoln was still lying in bed at ten in the morning, staring at the ceiling and thinking about…everything, when the doorbell rang.

He sighed, rubbed his face and got up, wondering who it could be at his door.

He certainly wasn’t expecting Alexander Mahone…but that is exactly who it was. He was holding a thick file in his hands.

“Can I come in?” Alex asked, his face drawn and pale. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. The stresses of Michael’s therapy sessions were, no doubt, the cause.

Lincoln stared at him, blinked twice and then nodded, turning to one side to allow Alex inside.

***
When he next visited Michael, there was no therapy session, and the two of them just spent time together, walking around the gardens, watching television in the common room, and talking in Michael’s room.

“How do you feel?” Alex asked, trying to get a grasp on his lover’s mindset.

Michael shrugged, noncommittal, “I don’t know….better, I guess. This is the longest I’ve been sober in a while! It’s hard talking about all this…stuff. But, I guess it’s helping.”

Alex nodded, “I think it is. You know, I never told you this before, Michael-but I went to therapy in prison-stateside, after Sona. It helped me get sober-and deal with the things my father did to me when I was a kid. It hurts to talk about it-but talking DOES help.”

“What did your father do?” Michael asked.

He knew, vaguely, that Alex had been abused as a child-but they had never talked about it. They only ever really talked about Michael’s issues, not Alexander’s.

Alex took a deep breath, “He beat my mother until she finally left. She tried to take me, but he wouldn’t let her. After she left-I was eight, I think-he turned his fists on me. That bastard beat me almost every day-for anything and nothing. If I forgot to make my bed or if I got a bad grade or if I forgot to brush my teeth….anything. He hated me and I didn’t understand why…I tried so hard to be a good kid, a good son…but nothing I did was ever good enough. Eventually, I just gave up trying to please him and started hating him too. I left the day I turned eighteen. I joined the army and never looked back. But he was always there, in the back of my head, tormenting me. He’s a big part of the reason I self destructed as badly as I did….you have to deal it, as hard as it is, or it will eat you alive, Michael.”

“Is your father still alive?”

“I don’t honestly know, Michael. I don’t honestly care. I love Cam-you know I do-and I couldn’t imagine treating him like my dad treated me. In fact, I couldn’t treat a dog the way he treated me.” Alex said the words with no real malice, only resigned acceptance. It had been his lot in life to draw a bastard for a father. He had learned to accept it, forgive it even, on some level.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said in a childlike voice.

Alex managed a sad smile, “Its okay…I’ve learned-through therapy-that it wasn’t my fault. That was something I always knew in my head…but not in my heart, not in my soul, you know? I always, always thought in some secret part of my heart, that it was MY fault somehow-that if I had been a better son, a better kid, a better person, he wouldn’t have hit me. But that was not true. It was his problem, his pathology-not mine. I had to learn that. And that’s what you are learning now, here-that what happened to you wasn’t your fault. Because even if you think that you already knew that, you really didn’t, Michael. Some part of you always blamed yourself-that’s why you developed so many…problems.

Michael nodded vaguely. He knew Alex was right-he had heard doctors over the years tell him the same thing.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about, Michael, but I haven’t been able to bring it up….” Alex’s voice trailed off.

“You can ask me anything…” Michael said, smiling warmly for the first time in weeks.

Alex took a deep breath, “When I was…tracking you, trying to capture you, I read all of our medical files. The psychological ones, of course, but also…the physical ones.”

Michael’s eyes widened slightly and he looked away. He wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t know Alex had ever seen…those reports. The ones he never, ever talked about-with anyone.

“Michael,” Alex said gently, taking his lover’s hands in his, “How could you…do what you did for him? When he…beat you like that?”

Michael continued staring at the floor, completely unresponsive, though Alex knew his lover had heard the question. He tried a different approach; “I hated my father for doing those kinds of things to me. I never would have done anything…close…to what you did for Lincoln. In fact, if he were on death row, I probably would have felt he deserved it. I just want to understand, Michael. How could you love him and save him when he…hit you?”

“I don’t know.” Michael whined, not wanting to do any more self-analysis.

“I never brought it up before because I never knew what to say,” Alex admitted, “But I went to see Lincoln yesterday…”

Michael’s head snapped up and glared at his lover, “What? Why?”

Alex smiled softly, “Don’t worry. We didn’t try to kill each other or anything. It was…good, actually. We talked for a long time about you and I have no doubt that Lincoln wants what’s best for you. I just….I asked him why he hit you and you know what he told me?”

Michael merely shook his head. He and Lincoln had never talked about it. He had no idea what Lincoln thought about it. He had never really wanted to know.

“He told me he hit because he was angry. Angry at you-for having to take care of you-angry at your mother for dying, angry at the world for the situation you were in, and that he knew it wasn’t right but that sometimes hurting you made him feel better, like a release of tension. So, now I know why he did it…and maybe that even helps me understand why my father did what he did to me. I mean, he was an angry, bitter man. We were poor. He hated Ohio…his marriage was unhappy. I don’t know, maybe he hit my mother and then me for the same reasons Lincoln hit you…but now, I just want to understand why you forgave him so easily, why you loved someone who hurt you so much.”

“Why do you need to know so fucking badly?” Michael snarled, sounding angry and feeling cornered by Alexander’s questions and interest.

“You know why, Michael,” Alex returned, “If I can understand, I think it will help us to be better together, help me to understand you better.”

“It was only three times!”

“Three times that you ended up in the hospital, Michael. That means, statistically, that it must have happened…pretty regularly.” Alex pointed out.

Michael just stared at him. What was he supposed to say? He had spent weeks pouring his soul out in therapy sessions about so many other things, but this was, perhaps, the one thing he didn’t know how to explain. To Alex or to himself….just like their incestuous involvement, the beatings had been part of a sick pattern of love, abandonment, drugs (Lincoln) and neediness (Michael). It had been as much a part of their relationship as the sex had been-and every bit as destructive and painful. There were times when Michael had told himself that he hated Lincoln. There were times when he tried to cut the other man out of his life…but in the end, he always went back to Lincoln. Lincoln was all he had and even if Lincoln was hurting him, at least he was there.

“When Lincoln would…beat me, I liked it. It meant he cared. It meant he was…paying attention to me.” Michael heard himself saying all at once.

Alex rolled his eyes in exasperation because really, how was he even supposed to respond to a statement like that?”

“Jesus, Michael!”

“I’m just saying….those…medical reports don’t tell the whole story. I don’t want you to hate him! To blame him-it wasn’t all his fault….he only ever hit me when I was doing something stupid, like skipping school or when I tried pot….he was trying to keep me from ending up on the streets!” Michael sounded desperate to make his lover believe his words, and not hate his brother, but Alex didn’t know if it would be so easy to calm down.

“You were a kid, Michael! He broke bones, for fuck’s sake! What the fuck went on in your childhood, Michael? I mean, he had sex with you, he beat you, and he abandoned you over and over again! He was a drug addict, a drunk, a con!”

“Your point, Alex?” Michael spat.

“I want to know WHY! Why you loved that bastard so much-why you gave up your life-your fucking LIFE! -for a man who…did those things to you! Why would you even want to talk to him, much less….sacrifice your life for him? Help me understand!”

“I can’t! Okay? I can’t explain it and you won’t ever understand!” Michael began to cry.

“I need to understand Michael…because if I can’t understand, then…I can’t understand you! Do you understand? If I can’t reconcile all of this….I don’t think I can help you get well! I don’t know if you’ll ever get well!”

Michael looked utterly resigned. He smiled sadly and nodded, “I guess you better start packing then, Alex.”

“What?” Alex fell to his knees before his lover, desperately trying to reach him, “Why won’t you talk to me? Just tell me why? Let me be here for you! Just tell me why you loved him when he hurt you-that’s all I want to know. Just tell me!”

“I can’t” Michael screamed at the top of his lungs, shoving his lover, and Alex drew back, shocked at the intensity of his lover’s anger and frustration. It was the first time he had ever heard Michael shout.

“I can’t tell you because I don’t fucking know, okay? I can guess…I can say that it was because he was the only family I had, so I was willing to forgive him…I can say that I knew I was a fucked up kid, and that I frustrated the hell out of Lincoln every day and so I understood when he would finally lose his temper…I can say that, yeah, he was an asshole who abused me and I should’ve hated him…should have, but I didn’t! I never did. I got mad at him, I got scared of him….but I NEVER hated him. Don’t you think I know how fucked up that is? I know, okay? I’m a fucking freak for sticking by him! I know that-and if you can’t handle that, then you need to leave because that’s not going to change!”

Michael stopped and tried to reign in his emotions. When he spoke once more, it was in a hushed tone, “I don’t know for sure, but I think I forgave him because he WAS all I had. He was all I had even when I had more, if that makes any sense….when I went to Loyola, when I was working as an engineer, when I was living at a nice address….I felt like none of that was real. I always felt like white trash, like a fraud in…that world. When I was with Lincoln, I was the real Michael. I didn’t have to pretend to be normal because Lincoln knew and didn’t care that I was messed up…I didn’t have to pretend to be some wealthy upstart, because Linc knew I was just a kid from the bad part of town. No one knew me like him. Yeah, he hurt me sometimes-but he was the only person to ever understand me or accept me the way that I was, until…”

“Until what?” Alex said in a resigned voice, not knowing what to say.

“Until you. Until…us. I felt like you understood me, even before you knew me. Its what…attracted me to you in the first place, I think. Then you left me, and I thought I was wrong about you, about us. And that hurt so much, but I accepted it because, God knows, I was used to being disappointed! But…you came back, so I hoped again…but…why do I get the feeling you are about to tell me something I don’t want to hear, Alex-again? If you’re leaving me, at least have the fucking guts to say that you are-and don’t use medical reports that you’ve known about for YEARS and never discussed with me….don’t use those as an excuse. Just say it! Say you can’t handle how fucked up I am! And then maybe you’ll understand why I still love Linc-why I always have. Because never once, in all my life has Lincoln called me fucked up! And never once has he left me because he couldn’t deal with the shit inside my head!”

Michael was hysterical now, and stopped to draw in air. Savagely, he picked up a book that had been lying on his bed and slammed it against the wall across the room. Doing that seemed to release some tension because all at once, he slumped on to his bed, shoulders hunched, silently.

Alexander sighed and wiped tears from his eyes. He had no idea what to say next.

Michael swallowed hard several times, calming himself and then managed a sad smile, “I know, Alex…I know you’re leaving. I’ve felt you…pulling away for days now. So, before you leave me-again-I just want to say that you have no fucking right to judge Lincoln or me because, whatever he has ever done to me, he never hurt me like you have over and over again! Maybe you’re the one I should stop forgiving!”

Alexander met Michael’s cold, accusing eyes and just gazed at his lover.

“You’re right,” he said slowly, “I did think about…leaving, Michael. Its all been so hard, so painful…its one thing to say I’ll stand by you no matter what, and its quite another to actually do it. It’s true.”

Michael laughed mirthlessly and tossed his head, “Fuck you.”

Alex sighed heavily and sat down in the chair on the far side of the room, just staring into space. The silence was awful, and Michael was certain-absolutely sure-that Alex was about to leave him again. And then Alex smiled ever so slightly, “So, you are so sure that I am leaving, huh?”

Michael nodded, “Yeah, I know you are.”

Alex leaned forward, placing both hands in his lap and studying Michael, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He let the words sink in before he went on, “I thought about it-I did. But …no. I will not leave your side, Michael. No matter what. Not until I die.”

There was dead silence for a moment-and then Michael burst into tears.

“I can’t pretend to…understand all of this,” Alex admitted as Michael collapsed in his arms, “Maybe I never will. Lincoln and you…it’s so…complicated…”

Michael pulled back, trying to stop his tears as he gasped for breath, “But it’s not anymore! Not really….it was…so fucked up for a long time, but…it’s not like that anymore. You must know that.”

Alex nodded slowly, “Yes, but the effects are the same. We have…a lot to overcome, Michael. But…we’ve made it this far. We’ll get through this and we’ll do it together.”

There was so much that Michael wanted to say; so much that he felt he should say…but he could not find any words to express what he was feeling towards the other man at that moment. So much love, so much gratitude…it was overwhelming. So, instead of speaking, he kissed Alex on the lips, deep and long and passionate. And when he pulled away at last to breathe, both men were smiling.

TWO MONTHS LATER:

Alex found that he was beginning to like early morning.

Most of his life, he had not been a morning person, preferring to sleep late and stay up late. But all of this was changing with Michael Scofield in his life. Michael was a morning person, and he was slowly bringing his lover around to way of things.

Of course, it helped that he often awoke Alex in the early morning with a blowjob.

Alex would come awake slowly, pleasantly-to the feel of Michael’s warm, expert wetness surrounding his hardened sex. Often, he would only have time to arch his hips slightly and moan before coming in his lover’s willing mouth, collapsing back on the bed in absolute bliss and contentment.

Yes, mornings were not so bad, after all.

Michael had been out of the hospital now for over a month. He still had weekly therapy sessions, some of which Alex attended and others that he did not. Michael was slowly learning to forgive himself for a lifetime of sins, real and perceived. And Alex-along with Lincoln-was learning to understand and accept and maybe even face some of his own demons as a result. All of them were so damaged by their past, but they were also very strong men-they would never have survived had they not been. Lincoln had LJ and Sophia…and Michael and Alex had each other.

It was a long process, one that would take years. And it was hard going at times-never easy, that was for sure. But Michael was worth it. That much, Alex knew-had always known, even if it took him a long time to realise it.

This morning had started like so many of their days started together-with Michael sucking him to a soft, gentle release, before crawling back up the length of the other man’s body to kiss and caress him gently.

After talking about the coming day and what they both had planned, they inevitably began to kiss and touch more intimately…hands moving lower, gasps and pleas, followed by stroking and panting, until Alex could wait no longer and pushed Michael onto his stomach, mounting him from behind.

Alex grunted as he pushed all the way to the hilt. Usually, he liked to make love face-to-face. But there was something incredibly arousing about taking Michael from behind. Perhaps it was the animalistic nature of the position, or the feeling of absolute control over the movement…but whatever it was, Alex found himself on the edge of orgasm almost immediately. Desperately, he grasped at the base of his dick, trying to stave off orgasm, savouring the feeling of being buried within his lover.

Beneath him, Michael offered no assistance in helping Alexander regain control, as he moaned and gasped breathily, his head turned to the side so that the older man had a perfect view, in profile, of his full, parted lips and look of pure abandon on his beautiful face.

When Michael’s tongue wet his lips, and he whimpered a soft, “Alex…” it was nearly too much and Alex threw his head back to the ceiling, crying out.

He collapsed against his lover’s back and pulled them both onto their sides, reaching around to take Michael’s erection in his hand. He wasn’t going to last, and wanted to make sure his lover got off as well.

Biting down on his bottom lip, he began to thrust and withdraw, timing his strokes with his movements as best as he could. Michael lay against him, turning his head to nibble at Alex’s neck and earlobe, whispering filth and love. He could feel his balls slamming against Michael’s perfect ass with each thrust and felt himself go supernova.

He made no noise as he came, his mouth agape, eyes rolling back in his head, he exploded within Michael’s tight passage, semen flowing endlessly into his lover’s body as he gave himself over to the pleasure completely.

Unable to move, he simply fell back, allowing Michael to take over, feeling his lover brace himself and arch his back, moving up and down, fucking himself in Alex’s hand, panting like a dog.

It didn’t take long and Michael was coming, making a mewing sound and freezing, mid arch, his semen spurting out and over Alexander’s hand and back onto Michael’s own stomach as the younger man arched perfectly over his lover’s body.

For a moment they hung suspended in time just like that, Alexander’s hand wrapped around his lover’s sex, Michael arched backwards over his lover’s body, covered in the evidence of their passion…and then, unable to sustain the pose any longer, Michael relaxed, falling to one side so as not to crush Alexander.

They lay next to one another, panting and sated, eyes closed as they trembled with the enormity of it all.

When he awoke, Alex was hovering over his body, stroking it lightly with just his fingertips. Michael shuddered at the feather light touches and arched towards more like a cat. He watched his lover intently, mouth hanging slightly open in awe and pleasure as Alex continued to touch him everywhere at once.

They didn’t speak, as they rarely did when they made love. Words were never really that necessary between the two of them-they seemed to read one another so well, fed off one another’s non verbal reactions, understood each other in a way that defied words-and their sex was no different.

When they were both too incredibly aroused to tease any longer, both of their cocks leaking precome and their breathing fast and hard, Alex simply raised an eyebrow in question and Michael arched his back in response.

Moments later, Alexander was entering Michael once more. He was swollen and sore, but his entrance was still wet with Alexander’s come, easing the older man’s way. With nothing more than a soft gasp, he turned his head to one side and allowed Alex to suck and gnaw on his exposed neckline as they made love once more. Too exhausted emotionally and physically to wrap his legs around Alexander’s waist, he merely spread his thighs as far as he could and welcomed Mahone’s ride.

He felt dazed; his body slack, open…exposed….his cock was caught between their taut bellies, hard and desperate for release. He was only vaguely aware of his lover slamming inside again and again. He felt as if he were dreaming, his sensations dulled by too much stimulation.

Michael lay atop him, not really knowing how he even ended up in that position, languid and sated-for the moment, at least. Sex with Alex was like that-it sated him but only for a short time and then he needed it again and again and again.

Still straddling him, Michael slid down, kissed Alex’s sweat slicked stomach and rolled to one side, leaving one long leg still wrapped over Alexander’s legs rubbing his calf absently.

Silently, Michael reached up and rubbed his semen into Mahone’s skin as he purred low in his throat like a wild cat.

He cradled the back of Michael’s neck, petted the shorn scalp. Just that simple touch was enough and Michael felt himself hardening against his lover’s thigh. He mewled, sighed, pressed against the older man fully.

“You’re like a drug to me, Michael,” Alex panted, kissing him on the lips, open mouthed, half dazed with lust.

Michael paused, rested his forehead to Alex’s.

They kissed wetly, open mouthed, heated. Alex wrapped his arms around Michael and pulled him up and close. They were rubbing against each other wantonly, both hard again.

It was never enough. Never, ever enough….

“Fuck me again,” Michael whispered roughly. Lewdly.

“Aren’t you sore?”

Michael nodded “Doesn’t matter…want it…want you to…”

“I’m old, Michael!” he mocked, “I need to rest!”

Michael smirked and arch up, offering himself, “Are you sure you want to rest?”

“No…” Alexander admitted, returning the smirk, and slid back inside easily. Home….

They both gasped at the feeling, and Michael seemed to realise, hazily, that this must be what it feels like for a smack addict when he shoots up…pain and then…bliss. Pure bliss.

Alex barely moved in Michael. It was enough to feel him inside once more. The two of them felt lost, riding the drug of pleasure, eyes glazed, stroking and arching slightly, moaning and sighing….stoned on sex. Hands travelling over heated skin, sweat mixing with semen…

Michael writhed there, barely moving, just…feeling. He wrapped his legs around Alex and just held him, inside. Lips found lips and there were soft wet kisses between weak, desperate thrusts….barely moving, hazy…dreamlike.

Somehow, Alex flipped them so that Michael was riding him. A hand reached up to cradle the cheek, run fingers over lush lips. He watched intensely as Michael’s mouth hung open, slack, his eyes rolling back, and then his head, exposing the long neck. His hand travelled down to grasp lightly at it, feel as Michael’s head lolled from back to front and side to side, completely wasted on sex, stoned out of his mind on the drug of Alexander’s body.

Desperate, Alex canted his hips upwards weakly, felt himself milked by the tight heat of Michael’s body.

Alexander sighed “Michael…”and came. Again. Michael felt the splash of wet heat inside his anus and welcomed it with it a gasp, spilling himself against both of their bellies…ah, bliss.

It was past one in the afternoon, but neither of them had bothered to get out of bed, shower, or even eat…all that mattered was this: the sex, the touching, the desperation and need for one another.

But hadn’t it always been this way? Alex thought that it probably always had been-no that he minded. Being with Michael was like a dream he was afraid he might wake up from. For all their problems, he knew Michael was his soul mate. And is sex was their addiction now, well, that was better than heroin or pills or alcohol, wasn’t it? Not to mention, much more fun….

He reached out pulled Michael to him, and the younger man responded by draping himself across his lover’s chest, “Tell me it will always be like this…” Michael said in soft voice.

Alex laughed, “I doubt we could keep up this pace without killing ourselves!”

Michael gave a reproving look, and smacked Alex lightly on the chest, “You know what I mean!”

Alex smiled, “Yes, I do. And yes, Michael-it will always be like this because I’ll always love you.”

Michael looked lost in thought, and then he said, “Do you believe in fate?”

“I never used to. I do now.” Alex replied honestly.

Michael smiled, kissed him again, “Me too.”

THE END