Prison Break Slash Fiction: "The Lonely Tide" (Michael/Lincoln, PG)
Title: The Lonely Tide
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: Lincoln/Michael (Slash, AU)
Rating: PG
Summary: They can't go back.
Author's Notes: Set in my "Paradise" post-escape universe, and written for the writerverse prompt of "Places I remember" and the fanfic100 prompt of "Water."
x-x-x-x-x
"Do you ever miss the snow?" Lincoln asks.
He and Michael are sitting on the porch of their little house with the sea spread out before them, and Chicago is a lifetime ago. Lincoln spent more than thirty-five years there, but it's unreachable now. They can't go back.
Michael smiles, and turns his beer bottle slowly on the porch railing next to him. "I miss how it looks," he says.
"Yeah," Lincoln snorts. Once you're older than ten, you never miss how it feels, or the way it just piles up on streets and sidewalks and lingers clear through March.
"I'm sorry I can't do much about the change of seasons here," Michael says.
Lincoln glances over at him, always aware of how the slightest comment can sound like a complaint when your life has become hiding, even in someplace as close to paradise as this. "I know," he says, and he hears the apology for all the things that aren't even Michael's fault. "It's beautiful, though," he adds, because it is, and if anyone had ever asked him he'd have said this was the kind of thing he'd always dreamed of.
He and Michael watch the ocean in comfortable silence. The waves tumble slowly over each other and sing out onto the sand.
Lincoln never noticed that after the first few months, he mostly didn't hear the music of the waves at all anymore.
------ fin ------
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: Lincoln/Michael (Slash, AU)
Rating: PG
Summary: They can't go back.
Author's Notes: Set in my "Paradise" post-escape universe, and written for the writerverse prompt of "Places I remember" and the fanfic100 prompt of "Water."
x-x-x-x-x
"Do you ever miss the snow?" Lincoln asks.
He and Michael are sitting on the porch of their little house with the sea spread out before them, and Chicago is a lifetime ago. Lincoln spent more than thirty-five years there, but it's unreachable now. They can't go back.
Michael smiles, and turns his beer bottle slowly on the porch railing next to him. "I miss how it looks," he says.
"Yeah," Lincoln snorts. Once you're older than ten, you never miss how it feels, or the way it just piles up on streets and sidewalks and lingers clear through March.
"I'm sorry I can't do much about the change of seasons here," Michael says.
Lincoln glances over at him, always aware of how the slightest comment can sound like a complaint when your life has become hiding, even in someplace as close to paradise as this. "I know," he says, and he hears the apology for all the things that aren't even Michael's fault. "It's beautiful, though," he adds, because it is, and if anyone had ever asked him he'd have said this was the kind of thing he'd always dreamed of.
He and Michael watch the ocean in comfortable silence. The waves tumble slowly over each other and sing out onto the sand.
Lincoln never noticed that after the first few months, he mostly didn't hear the music of the waves at all anymore.
------ fin ------