Prison Break Gen Fiction: "Seeking Answers In The Midnight Sky"' (Michael, Angst, PG)
Title: Seeking Answers In The Midnight Sky
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: Michael (Gen, Drama)
Rating: PG
Summary (S1): The night is a desperate time of new planning and self-doubt.
Author's Notes: Day 8 of the Bleeding Cuticles Roadkill Challenge.
Also for prisonbreak100 and writers_choice, this is "Moon."
x-x-x-x-x
At night, when Fox River grew quiet, Michael's thoughts raced through all of the things he'd done and the things he had yet to do. The list was long and time was short, but Michael was determined to make his miracle happen.
It wasn't that he needed to remember. He had notes and schemes encoded on his body and imprinted in his brain. No, the problem was that some of his plans had not succeeded.
It was ten minutes to midnight on the metaphorical clock that counted down how much time he had left to save his brother. None of it was in Michael's control, except for what he'd managed to pull off in spite of the wheels already in motion. That was the secret behind all of it-guiding, manipulating, and working the chink in the armor toward the sum of opportunities that would allow him to set Lincoln free.
The moon was Michael's witness on those nights when he was locked in his cell and could do nothing but re-evaluate and scheme the steps ahead. Sleep stole the few precious hours he had left, and reality conspired daily to defeat him.
Michael was not about to give up, no matter the difficulty or how bitter the path to the end. No outcome could be worse than the one that already waited.
Moonlight on his skin brought forth the jumble of different pieces he was counting on: wrench sizes, chemical codes, escape streets, even hidden caches of clothing. Images streamed down his arms and chest, showing the hoped-for, the contingent, and the remotest fringe of possibility in the multiple levels of plans he'd concocted.
Everything was linked, and if those connections broke, Michael scrambled for new ways to make it all work.
In the loneliness of night, he felt the remaining days slip away as the lunar cycles waxed and waned.
He struggled to hold onto hope, because everything that mattered absolutely required that he succeed. He could not be certain his plans would go the way he needed, but given the price of failure, he was utterly certain how hard he would try.
-------- fin --------
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: Michael (Gen, Drama)
Rating: PG
Summary (S1): The night is a desperate time of new planning and self-doubt.
Author's Notes: Day 8 of the Bleeding Cuticles Roadkill Challenge.
Also for prisonbreak100 and writers_choice, this is "Moon."
x-x-x-x-x
At night, when Fox River grew quiet, Michael's thoughts raced through all of the things he'd done and the things he had yet to do. The list was long and time was short, but Michael was determined to make his miracle happen.
It wasn't that he needed to remember. He had notes and schemes encoded on his body and imprinted in his brain. No, the problem was that some of his plans had not succeeded.
It was ten minutes to midnight on the metaphorical clock that counted down how much time he had left to save his brother. None of it was in Michael's control, except for what he'd managed to pull off in spite of the wheels already in motion. That was the secret behind all of it-guiding, manipulating, and working the chink in the armor toward the sum of opportunities that would allow him to set Lincoln free.
The moon was Michael's witness on those nights when he was locked in his cell and could do nothing but re-evaluate and scheme the steps ahead. Sleep stole the few precious hours he had left, and reality conspired daily to defeat him.
Michael was not about to give up, no matter the difficulty or how bitter the path to the end. No outcome could be worse than the one that already waited.
Moonlight on his skin brought forth the jumble of different pieces he was counting on: wrench sizes, chemical codes, escape streets, even hidden caches of clothing. Images streamed down his arms and chest, showing the hoped-for, the contingent, and the remotest fringe of possibility in the multiple levels of plans he'd concocted.
Everything was linked, and if those connections broke, Michael scrambled for new ways to make it all work.
In the loneliness of night, he felt the remaining days slip away as the lunar cycles waxed and waned.
He struggled to hold onto hope, because everything that mattered absolutely required that he succeed. He could not be certain his plans would go the way he needed, but given the price of failure, he was utterly certain how hard he would try.
-------- fin --------