(Untitled)

[free_now]

The last time Michael Scofield had found himself standing on a beach, it had been under considerably better circumstances.

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[under_his_skin]

Usually Laura rose bright and early. Today, though, she'd slept in. While Laura appreciated a good eight solid hours of sleep, thirteen was pushing it. By the time she was dressed and out the door for her morning jog, the sun was a hell of a lot higher than she would have liked.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath, pulling her long hair up into a ponytail and securing it with an elastic band. She'd missed ITF training and everything. Sheppard was going to be pissed. She'd have to swing by to see him -- after she got her jog in.

Sand sprayed up, granules biting her calves as she flew over the beach. Her breathing was steady, inoutinoutinoutinout, and loud in her ears, louder than the pounding of the surf.

Arms pumping at her sides, she rounded a bend -- and nearly ran right into some guy standing there.

"Oof!" she exclaimed, stopping just short of him, reaching out a hand to clasp his shoulder in case she needed to shove him out of the way. "Sorry, sorry!"

[free_now]

Of all the things Michael had expected from the afterlife, nearly being bowled over by a jogger had never really entered into his mind. It was a lot hotter than he expected it to be, too. Unless he'd earned himself a trip downstairs, which could very well have been the case, but he'd reserve judgment on that till there was convincing evidence for or against one place over the other.

"You're not one of the Five People I'm supposed to meet, are you?" He asked wearily, pocketing the paper swan. Frankly, making sense of his yesterdays with a complete stranger might have been more appealing after a bit of the shell shock wore off.

[under_his_skin]

Now that was a weird question to be asked when you nearly just bowled a guy over. Huffing out a shuddering sort of breath as the adrenaline from the almost-collision left her body, Laura dropped her hand from his shoulder and took a step back.

She tilted her head to one side, giving him a small, albeit slightly confused smile. "Not that I know of, but then again this place never gives me the heads up on anything."

[free_now]

Michael glanced back at the headstone before pinching the bridge of his nose, drawing in a steadying breath. "'This place' being... what, exactly?" There was no real point in pussyfooting around the issue when short and direct produced results so much faster. "Heaven? Hell? Purgatory?"

[spirited_hero]

[free_now]

Michale bit out a small, bitter laugh at the greeting. He hadn't heard anyone speak like that since Tweener was still with them. That seemed like forever ago now. From his reaction, one might have thought the guy had just come across his own headstone.

"Guess that's a good a sign as any that I should move this at some point," he said distractedly. People didn't travel down to the beach to be confronted by death.

[spirited_hero]

[free_now]

"Yeah, I do," Michael answered simply, suddenly wondering if there was anything beneath the headstone, but quickly shaking the thought from his mind as best he could. "It's mine. Apparently."

His name, his birth date and the day of Sara's escape, the quote, the flowers, the swan... There was absolutely no way to mistake it for belonging to anyone else but himself.

[1st_zack]

Zack, and his dog Strife, were jogging along the beach. Ahead in the distance, he saw a guy standing on the beach. He was looking at something. Something Zack didn't remember being on the beach the last time he'd jogged that way. The fact that he didn't recognize the guy didn't instantly mean he was a new arrival. There were a lot of people on the island.

"Hey," he greeted as he got closer and it was easier to notice the emotion on the other man's face. "Are you alright?" If this was like anything like his Buster sword or the letter Cam had found or the flag Tom Hobbes had found, then likely he wasn't ok.

[free_now]

"Yeah. I'm fine," Michael said, almost robotically. After months of being asked that same question by his brother and Sara, it had become his default response. He hated being fussed over and them constantly worrying about him, and he was sure that they knew as much. They probably stopped believing him when he said it well before he did.

"Jet-lag from hell," he joked. Showing up in an 'alternate reality' was bound to take it out of most people.

[1st_zack]

"Jet-lag?" he repeated, not fully understanding what was meant by the phrase. It sounded like maybe he was a new arrival.

"So did you know Michael Scofield?" he asked, moving on with a shrug from the previous jet-lag question.