The Seven Virtues + the Fox River Eight Doesn't Add Up
A/N: Hey that title sounds like something mrs_spleen would come up with doesn't it? And don't let it mislead you, this isn't funny. I've never been in the heads of some of these characters *coughT-Bagcough* but this is what came to mind when I saw the challenge at pbhiatus_fic so I just went where it took me. I also fudged one of the virtues, just slightly to fit my own purposes.
Forgiveness
John Abruzzi has rarely forgotten any misdeeds ever done against him, even as a child. As a staunch Catholic who kept track of his own sins, he found it quite easy to keep track of the sins committed against him. He exacted revenge in many ways, from threatening looks in the schoolyard to beatings in the bathroom, and as he took over his own neighborhood after his father’s death, it had only been a bigger arena to practice the trade he’d perfected in parochial school.
Before Fibbonaci, there had been a few who had deserved killing for what they did, but most of the time he was able to handle things through carefully broken bones, or tormented wives whose cries kept their husbands docile and repentant. Before Fibbonaci, there had been close calls with the police, but never Prison.
After Fibbonaci, there was no forgiveness.
Humility
David Apolskis thought he had known humiliation a time or two before Fox River. In Avocado’s cell, he learned the true meaning. In ratting out the one guy who had tried to be his friend, he’d felt it even more acutely. Standing on Debra Jean’s doorstep, he played it up in his ‘Tweener’ way, the cool mofo who she had liked enough to sex up the first day she’d known him, but as he walked back to the police car, he’d humbly acknowledged to himself she would probably write him letters and he would treasure every single one.
Temperance
Patience has always been his most prized possession. Charles Patoshik heard voices in his head not long after the first beating that sent him to the hospital had happened. It hadn’t been the first time his father had beaten him, but it was the first time he’d been knocked unconscious. It was also the first time he’d fought back. When he’d woken up, he could hear voices no one else could telling him to kill his father because he was evil and his mother because she was weak. He’d taken his time though, and it hadn’t been until five more years and 13 more trips to the hospital had happened.
When Michael Scofield left him the Whack Shack, he’d somehow known his patience would pay off again. Tonight, when the alarm went off, he knew the meaning of the saying, “Patience is a virtue.”
Charity
Never got nothin'. He’d heard it his whole life, so when he got himself a baby on the way and Kacee with big tears in her eyes for fear they wouldn’t make it, he’d joined the Army. Uncle Sam could pay his way, and Benjamin Miles Franklin would see that his family never said, Never got nothin’.
Too many soldiers never think about the actual soldiering part; too many join up and think they’ll do their four years, get out and never look back. He’d been like that in the beginning, but then being a part of something, and being good at it, showed him that he didn’t just want to put in his four years and get their charity back. He’d go to school part time, and still keep soldiering. He was good at it, and he liked it.
On 9/11 he’d been more proud than he could say that he was already willing and able to go fight for his country. It had been his privilege and honor then, no longer a duty he performed for what he’d get in return. If he had to die for his country, that was charity he could get behind. That was something for his wife and his baby girl to be proud of too.
Chastity
Teddy Bagwell had never been chaste. He couldn’t remember a time when there weren’t sexual thoughts in his head or when he viewed anything about life in a non-sexual way. He had been the receptacle of sexual release for his Daddy as far back as he could remember, and at some point he’d learned to like it because there had been no other option.
The first day he saw Michael Scofield, he recognized him for what he was. He was one of those kids who had been abused, but had never broken under the abuse. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but the vestiges of such hands left indelible prints on the victims, and T-Bag, as he was known around Fox River, could see it on the face of The Pretty. Perhaps it was just the memory of other eyes haunting him just a bit.
In the Yard, he’d made his play, and he’d been rejected, just as he knew he would be. Michael Scofield had never learned to like it, and he would never again allow himself to be in the powerless position of victim. But Prison wasn’t like other places, and Teddy knew how to make opportunity happen.
He’d find a way to make him like it, because he was as good as his Daddy taught him to be.
Diligence
He’d never been the smartest one of the cousins, but he’d always known how to ask questions. And not just one question, but 20 questions if need be. Like a dog with a bone, he would ask every last question he could think of if it would get him what he was aiming for. Asking questions got Fernando Sucre a girl like Maricruz. Asking questions got him a slick ticket out of Fox River with Michael Scofield. Asking questions got him to Mexico and Maricruz in time to feel his baby kick for the first time.
Asking questions is what would get him to Bellick. Asking questions was the only way he knew, and internal bleeding or no, he would find the people he needed to ask, and get the answers he needed to hear.
Brotherly Kindness
Michael could remember every time Linc used his strength and size to scare someone off. He remembered it so well because when Linc was being mean to other people, he was being kind to Michael. And for a scared kid who’d faced too many monsters on his own, Linc being mean to other people was the kindest act he’d ever witnessed.
In Fox River it gave him the same feeling, even though now Michael knew his intellect was just as useful in dangerous situations, but when Lincoln growled just so, or moved this way or that, and T-Bag or Abruzzi flinched, it reminded him of being a kid and watching his big brother scare the bullies off.
“I want to thank you, Michael,” Lincoln says now, as they finally walk down a dirt path to freedom. His voice is soft, the way Michael remembers it from before Prison and Death and the Fear That Never Recedes. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Michael replies, lips turned up slightly.
Forgiveness
John Abruzzi has rarely forgotten any misdeeds ever done against him, even as a child. As a staunch Catholic who kept track of his own sins, he found it quite easy to keep track of the sins committed against him. He exacted revenge in many ways, from threatening looks in the schoolyard to beatings in the bathroom, and as he took over his own neighborhood after his father’s death, it had only been a bigger arena to practice the trade he’d perfected in parochial school.
Before Fibbonaci, there had been a few who had deserved killing for what they did, but most of the time he was able to handle things through carefully broken bones, or tormented wives whose cries kept their husbands docile and repentant. Before Fibbonaci, there had been close calls with the police, but never Prison.
After Fibbonaci, there was no forgiveness.
Humility
David Apolskis thought he had known humiliation a time or two before Fox River. In Avocado’s cell, he learned the true meaning. In ratting out the one guy who had tried to be his friend, he’d felt it even more acutely. Standing on Debra Jean’s doorstep, he played it up in his ‘Tweener’ way, the cool mofo who she had liked enough to sex up the first day she’d known him, but as he walked back to the police car, he’d humbly acknowledged to himself she would probably write him letters and he would treasure every single one.
Temperance
Patience has always been his most prized possession. Charles Patoshik heard voices in his head not long after the first beating that sent him to the hospital had happened. It hadn’t been the first time his father had beaten him, but it was the first time he’d been knocked unconscious. It was also the first time he’d fought back. When he’d woken up, he could hear voices no one else could telling him to kill his father because he was evil and his mother because she was weak. He’d taken his time though, and it hadn’t been until five more years and 13 more trips to the hospital had happened.
When Michael Scofield left him the Whack Shack, he’d somehow known his patience would pay off again. Tonight, when the alarm went off, he knew the meaning of the saying, “Patience is a virtue.”
Charity
Never got nothin'. He’d heard it his whole life, so when he got himself a baby on the way and Kacee with big tears in her eyes for fear they wouldn’t make it, he’d joined the Army. Uncle Sam could pay his way, and Benjamin Miles Franklin would see that his family never said, Never got nothin’.
Too many soldiers never think about the actual soldiering part; too many join up and think they’ll do their four years, get out and never look back. He’d been like that in the beginning, but then being a part of something, and being good at it, showed him that he didn’t just want to put in his four years and get their charity back. He’d go to school part time, and still keep soldiering. He was good at it, and he liked it.
On 9/11 he’d been more proud than he could say that he was already willing and able to go fight for his country. It had been his privilege and honor then, no longer a duty he performed for what he’d get in return. If he had to die for his country, that was charity he could get behind. That was something for his wife and his baby girl to be proud of too.
Chastity
Teddy Bagwell had never been chaste. He couldn’t remember a time when there weren’t sexual thoughts in his head or when he viewed anything about life in a non-sexual way. He had been the receptacle of sexual release for his Daddy as far back as he could remember, and at some point he’d learned to like it because there had been no other option.
The first day he saw Michael Scofield, he recognized him for what he was. He was one of those kids who had been abused, but had never broken under the abuse. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but the vestiges of such hands left indelible prints on the victims, and T-Bag, as he was known around Fox River, could see it on the face of The Pretty. Perhaps it was just the memory of other eyes haunting him just a bit.
In the Yard, he’d made his play, and he’d been rejected, just as he knew he would be. Michael Scofield had never learned to like it, and he would never again allow himself to be in the powerless position of victim. But Prison wasn’t like other places, and Teddy knew how to make opportunity happen.
He’d find a way to make him like it, because he was as good as his Daddy taught him to be.
Diligence
He’d never been the smartest one of the cousins, but he’d always known how to ask questions. And not just one question, but 20 questions if need be. Like a dog with a bone, he would ask every last question he could think of if it would get him what he was aiming for. Asking questions got Fernando Sucre a girl like Maricruz. Asking questions got him a slick ticket out of Fox River with Michael Scofield. Asking questions got him to Mexico and Maricruz in time to feel his baby kick for the first time.
Asking questions is what would get him to Bellick. Asking questions was the only way he knew, and internal bleeding or no, he would find the people he needed to ask, and get the answers he needed to hear.
Brotherly Kindness
Michael could remember every time Linc used his strength and size to scare someone off. He remembered it so well because when Linc was being mean to other people, he was being kind to Michael. And for a scared kid who’d faced too many monsters on his own, Linc being mean to other people was the kindest act he’d ever witnessed.
In Fox River it gave him the same feeling, even though now Michael knew his intellect was just as useful in dangerous situations, but when Lincoln growled just so, or moved this way or that, and T-Bag or Abruzzi flinched, it reminded him of being a kid and watching his big brother scare the bullies off.
“I want to thank you, Michael,” Lincoln says now, as they finally walk down a dirt path to freedom. His voice is soft, the way Michael remembers it from before Prison and Death and the Fear That Never Recedes. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Michael replies, lips turned up slightly.