fic: Happy Anniversary
Title: Happy Anniversary
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Henry Pope, Judy Pope
Word Count: a bit over 600
Rating: PG-13 for a bit of language
Notes: Written for the challenge "Flashforward Fever" at
pbhiatus_fic.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Retirement doesn’t settle as easy on his shoulders as Judy would like. But she’s always been supportive, so she never says anything overtly. He thinks she’d probably say something about how it was his choice, more or less, about how they could finally take some time to live stress free and relaxed, to finally be married after years of devotion to his job instead of his wife. But she doesn’t say anything, and he reads the newspapers and looks online for job postings, first for something comparable, and then, after a few polite rejection letters and a few outright denials, something completely different.
He could do any sort of administrative work really, or business management or local politics. He ran a prison for Pete’s sake, through heat waves and riots and corrupt guards and dead guards and Lincoln Burrows. Anything after that should be a cakewalk. Anything after the shit storm that ended his career should be a stroll in the park, with ample time for holding hands with Judy. Sitting around the house and growing old isn’t really his style, but he’s willing to give up hectic and time consuming for something manageable. Judy will agree once she sees it happen, he’s sure of it. So he watches the listings, and updates his resume, and keeps himself up to date on the world, on local issues and the economy. He’s looking for his opening, and he has no doubt that eventually he’ll find it. That’s how he finds out.
It isn’t entirely unexpected. Headline news comes back around on a cycle like bell bottom jeans and teased hair. Michael Scofield made headline news quite a bit back when he broke out of Fox River and went on the lam. A second breakout is definitely news worthy stuff.
They show all the old pictures, even some of the video footage where he’s reaching out to Dr. Tancredi, and he sits and watches it, finger frozen on the buttons of the remote. He’d like to turn the channel, to turn it off, or even to put it on mute, but it’s the same old train wreck that he never could look away from.
They don’t have much about it this time around, just a bit of leaked information out of Panama. What Scofield was doing imprisoned down there is a bit beyond him, beyond them all really, since apparently there hadn’t yet been any sort of hearing, but facts is facts, and now he’s out again, and it’s so much like Fox River and yet so different that his head is spinning.
He sits back in his lazy boy, clutching the remote and remembering Scofield standing in his living room. He remembers letting him go, and he thinks, four walls, a bit of barbed wire, and a few armed guards couldn’t keep him, and neither could he, not even when Scofield gave him the gun. He’s an escape artist Houdini himself would praise. The most dangerous and well guarded prison wasn’t going to hold him. Hell, he’d even bet that Michael was working on the Black Taj Mahal down there; that he had some other big wig completely under his thumb without them even knowing it.
Judy opens the door and comes in with groceries while he’s still glued to his chair. The news has moved on to recycling milk jugs and rescuing kittens even though his eyes are still seeing flashing lights, and his ears are still hearing the alarms blare over the yard. He lets go of the remote and the lines are imprinted on his skin from clutching it so tightly, but he stands up, and goes to help his wife.
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Henry Pope, Judy Pope
Word Count: a bit over 600
Rating: PG-13 for a bit of language
Notes: Written for the challenge "Flashforward Fever" at
pbhiatus_fic.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Retirement doesn’t settle as easy on his shoulders as Judy would like. But she’s always been supportive, so she never says anything overtly. He thinks she’d probably say something about how it was his choice, more or less, about how they could finally take some time to live stress free and relaxed, to finally be married after years of devotion to his job instead of his wife. But she doesn’t say anything, and he reads the newspapers and looks online for job postings, first for something comparable, and then, after a few polite rejection letters and a few outright denials, something completely different.
He could do any sort of administrative work really, or business management or local politics. He ran a prison for Pete’s sake, through heat waves and riots and corrupt guards and dead guards and Lincoln Burrows. Anything after that should be a cakewalk. Anything after the shit storm that ended his career should be a stroll in the park, with ample time for holding hands with Judy. Sitting around the house and growing old isn’t really his style, but he’s willing to give up hectic and time consuming for something manageable. Judy will agree once she sees it happen, he’s sure of it. So he watches the listings, and updates his resume, and keeps himself up to date on the world, on local issues and the economy. He’s looking for his opening, and he has no doubt that eventually he’ll find it. That’s how he finds out.
It isn’t entirely unexpected. Headline news comes back around on a cycle like bell bottom jeans and teased hair. Michael Scofield made headline news quite a bit back when he broke out of Fox River and went on the lam. A second breakout is definitely news worthy stuff.
They show all the old pictures, even some of the video footage where he’s reaching out to Dr. Tancredi, and he sits and watches it, finger frozen on the buttons of the remote. He’d like to turn the channel, to turn it off, or even to put it on mute, but it’s the same old train wreck that he never could look away from.
They don’t have much about it this time around, just a bit of leaked information out of Panama. What Scofield was doing imprisoned down there is a bit beyond him, beyond them all really, since apparently there hadn’t yet been any sort of hearing, but facts is facts, and now he’s out again, and it’s so much like Fox River and yet so different that his head is spinning.
He sits back in his lazy boy, clutching the remote and remembering Scofield standing in his living room. He remembers letting him go, and he thinks, four walls, a bit of barbed wire, and a few armed guards couldn’t keep him, and neither could he, not even when Scofield gave him the gun. He’s an escape artist Houdini himself would praise. The most dangerous and well guarded prison wasn’t going to hold him. Hell, he’d even bet that Michael was working on the Black Taj Mahal down there; that he had some other big wig completely under his thumb without them even knowing it.
Judy opens the door and comes in with groceries while he’s still glued to his chair. The news has moved on to recycling milk jugs and rescuing kittens even though his eyes are still seeing flashing lights, and his ears are still hearing the alarms blare over the yard. He lets go of the remote and the lines are imprinted on his skin from clutching it so tightly, but he stands up, and goes to help his wife.