Better late than never.
Title: Waiting, Wishing, Wanting
Author: happywriter06
Fandom: Prison Break
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Jane Phillips, featuring LJ Burrows and Lincoln Burrows
Category: Gen
Disclaimer: If I owned the show, we all know she would be around.
Summary: My idea of what happened to Jane between the start of season 3 and season 4.
Notes: Finally, I came up with a title. I hope it works. Written for
pbhiatus_fic's 2008 Challenge #1.
You fucking hate hospitals. Not in the ‘I hate Mondays’ kind of way but in the ‘I hate The Company’ kind of way. It’s the smell. Yeah, you’re tough but you’ve never had the strongest nose. The smell of blood still gets to you. You’re just damn good at covering it up.
It’s the smell. It’s the nurse you always seems to get, the one that seems to idolize Nurse Ratched. You’re not the most ideal patient, never have been. As a kid, you hated taking the medicine, hated being cooped up when there were boys to one up. But maybe you’d be a little nicer if your Nurse had a bedside manner.
The questions are the worse though.
Lucky for you, you’ve only ever been hurt bad enough to need to go the hospital twice. There were endless fucking questions no matter how good the story. And it was good. You don’t do this for this long and not have your story together forwards, sideways, ass backwards. Still a gunshot wound is a gunshot wound. And sometimes not everything can be cleaned up before the local authorities arrive, who are always so earnest, always so fucking clueless, not that it’s their fault. They don’t know and it’s better that way.
Sometimes you wish you didn’t know. Like you could get eight hours sleep a night. Like you could have a relationship with a guy. Like you wouldn’t get shot at. Ever.
This time though you hate it because you’ve got too much time to think. You’re pretty badly hurt this time around. Not ‘in a few days you’ll be on your feet’ kind of thing. More like ‘in a week, we’ll see how you’re doing’ thing. That’s what your doctor had said. Aldo’s crew - your crew now - had agreed with the doctor. You said, “Screw the doctor, we have things to do.” They told you, “You’re the boss but we gotta go with the doctor on this one.” You heard that and “We’re not taking any chances. Not with Aldo gone.” Hell, they even follow the doctor’s orders about not letting you work too much from your bed. God, daytime television sucks.
So you’ve got way too much time to think about how much you miss Aldo. Friend and mentor and pain in your ass. He’d say the same thing about you. Time to think about how you failed him. Yeah, you had a crew backing you up but it’s still all on your shoulders because Lincoln gave LJ to you. Aldo said LJ would be safe. You confirmed that with Lincoln; said the same thing or some variation of it to LJ just about everyday.
You miss the kid with hair that always fell into his eyes, who always smiled through the tears. You were in awe of him. You can’t believe how he managed to get up every day. You don’t remember ever being that strong at that age. You didn’t have to be and you’re not sure you would’ve been strong enough.
You hope like hell he’s still alive.
You hope like hell you can to make it up to him. To them.
/ / / /
‘I’d thought I’d lost you’ are the words you hear as his arms wrap around you after his eyes had gone wide and then bled tears. He looked like he was seeing a ghost. You don’t blame him for that. The last time he’d seen you, you were bleeding out from a bullet to the chest and from a gash on your head. The first time you were able to take a real shower, clumps of dried blood circled the drain. That’s happened too many times.
You’re in pain because he’s squeezing so hard and because you’re not one hundred percent yet. You wished you’d had the doctors that wanted to rush their patients out of the hospital. As it was, you had to sweet talk them into letting you go when they did. You’d gladly smile through this kind of hurt.
When you finally pull apart, he doesn’t really let you go. He slips his hand into yours, squeezing just to make sure you’re real. Lincoln is smiling at you with something like pure relief in his eyes. He hugs you, too. Whispers something like ‘Thank God you’re okay’ in your ear.
You’re just in time for dinner, which for some reason makes you laugh like you’re some long lost relative they haven’t seen in a month of Sundays, which is something your mother used to say. You have dinner in the apartment of a friend who they tell you is staying with family. ‘She was a part of all this’ is all Lincoln says.
Except for the conversation, you imagine dinners happen like this all over the world. You tell him how they found you and LJ, how they had left you for dead, and how by some miracle you didn’t actually die. The Company hadn’t gotten rid of your back up crew completely and believe it or not a neighbor called the cops. You tell them how you would’ve went stir crazy in the hospital if you didn’t have to plan how to get back in the game.
They tell you about Michael in Sona over Whistler. You’ve heard of him but not much. They tell you Sara’s dead, which leaves you speechless over another senseless casualty of this war. When they tell you Michael went off to take The Company on, you can see it in their eyes that they’re not sure he’s coming back.
You don’t promise them you’ll bring him back because you promised last time and look how that turned out, even if you nearly died trying to keep it. But you do promise you’ll do your best and hopefully it’s good enough.
Author: happywriter06
Fandom: Prison Break
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Jane Phillips, featuring LJ Burrows and Lincoln Burrows
Category: Gen
Disclaimer: If I owned the show, we all know she would be around.
Summary: My idea of what happened to Jane between the start of season 3 and season 4.
Notes: Finally, I came up with a title. I hope it works. Written for
pbhiatus_fic's 2008 Challenge #1.
You fucking hate hospitals. Not in the ‘I hate Mondays’ kind of way but in the ‘I hate The Company’ kind of way. It’s the smell. Yeah, you’re tough but you’ve never had the strongest nose. The smell of blood still gets to you. You’re just damn good at covering it up.
It’s the smell. It’s the nurse you always seems to get, the one that seems to idolize Nurse Ratched. You’re not the most ideal patient, never have been. As a kid, you hated taking the medicine, hated being cooped up when there were boys to one up. But maybe you’d be a little nicer if your Nurse had a bedside manner.
The questions are the worse though.
Lucky for you, you’ve only ever been hurt bad enough to need to go the hospital twice. There were endless fucking questions no matter how good the story. And it was good. You don’t do this for this long and not have your story together forwards, sideways, ass backwards. Still a gunshot wound is a gunshot wound. And sometimes not everything can be cleaned up before the local authorities arrive, who are always so earnest, always so fucking clueless, not that it’s their fault. They don’t know and it’s better that way.
Sometimes you wish you didn’t know. Like you could get eight hours sleep a night. Like you could have a relationship with a guy. Like you wouldn’t get shot at. Ever.
This time though you hate it because you’ve got too much time to think. You’re pretty badly hurt this time around. Not ‘in a few days you’ll be on your feet’ kind of thing. More like ‘in a week, we’ll see how you’re doing’ thing. That’s what your doctor had said. Aldo’s crew - your crew now - had agreed with the doctor. You said, “Screw the doctor, we have things to do.” They told you, “You’re the boss but we gotta go with the doctor on this one.” You heard that and “We’re not taking any chances. Not with Aldo gone.” Hell, they even follow the doctor’s orders about not letting you work too much from your bed. God, daytime television sucks.
So you’ve got way too much time to think about how much you miss Aldo. Friend and mentor and pain in your ass. He’d say the same thing about you. Time to think about how you failed him. Yeah, you had a crew backing you up but it’s still all on your shoulders because Lincoln gave LJ to you. Aldo said LJ would be safe. You confirmed that with Lincoln; said the same thing or some variation of it to LJ just about everyday.
You miss the kid with hair that always fell into his eyes, who always smiled through the tears. You were in awe of him. You can’t believe how he managed to get up every day. You don’t remember ever being that strong at that age. You didn’t have to be and you’re not sure you would’ve been strong enough.
You hope like hell he’s still alive.
You hope like hell you can to make it up to him. To them.
/ / / /
‘I’d thought I’d lost you’ are the words you hear as his arms wrap around you after his eyes had gone wide and then bled tears. He looked like he was seeing a ghost. You don’t blame him for that. The last time he’d seen you, you were bleeding out from a bullet to the chest and from a gash on your head. The first time you were able to take a real shower, clumps of dried blood circled the drain. That’s happened too many times.
You’re in pain because he’s squeezing so hard and because you’re not one hundred percent yet. You wished you’d had the doctors that wanted to rush their patients out of the hospital. As it was, you had to sweet talk them into letting you go when they did. You’d gladly smile through this kind of hurt.
When you finally pull apart, he doesn’t really let you go. He slips his hand into yours, squeezing just to make sure you’re real. Lincoln is smiling at you with something like pure relief in his eyes. He hugs you, too. Whispers something like ‘Thank God you’re okay’ in your ear.
You’re just in time for dinner, which for some reason makes you laugh like you’re some long lost relative they haven’t seen in a month of Sundays, which is something your mother used to say. You have dinner in the apartment of a friend who they tell you is staying with family. ‘She was a part of all this’ is all Lincoln says.
Except for the conversation, you imagine dinners happen like this all over the world. You tell him how they found you and LJ, how they had left you for dead, and how by some miracle you didn’t actually die. The Company hadn’t gotten rid of your back up crew completely and believe it or not a neighbor called the cops. You tell them how you would’ve went stir crazy in the hospital if you didn’t have to plan how to get back in the game.
They tell you about Michael in Sona over Whistler. You’ve heard of him but not much. They tell you Sara’s dead, which leaves you speechless over another senseless casualty of this war. When they tell you Michael went off to take The Company on, you can see it in their eyes that they’re not sure he’s coming back.
You don’t promise them you’ll bring him back because you promised last time and look how that turned out, even if you nearly died trying to keep it. But you do promise you’ll do your best and hopefully it’s good enough.