Prison Break: Insight [Michael, Abruzzi]
Title: “Insight”
Author: Shaitanah
Rating: G
Timeline: by the end of Season 1
Summary: “Did you see angels, John?” Michael’s thoughts about Fox River and one weird conversation with Abruzzi the Preacher.
Disclaimer: Prison Break belongs to FOX and Paul Scheuring.
A/N: Wow, this one was written all the way back in 2007, but for some reason, never posted. Not that I’m particularly proud of it, but as it is complete, I feel it’s unfair to leave it unposted. Алекс, это, конечно, не Лёша/Коба, but it’s the closest thing)))
INSIGHT
The little isolated world that called itself Fox River was a miniature model of society with its own hierarchy, rules and players. And it was the most frightening thing of all.
Michael had planned everything, but that turned out to be beyond his calculations. He had been wrong in regarding prison as a building where a number of criminals were simply doing their time. It was no mere building. The building remained in those blueprints tattooed upon his upper body. The place Michael had got into was an entire world.
In its own twisted way, Fox River might have been a wild life model. Every day here was not living, but survival. But the more Michael observed the inmates, the more he came to realize that they were not real predators. The predators lived beyond the bars and garbed themselves in the guards’ uniforms. The men inside the cells had long since broken their teeth in a violent transition from masters of life to dim-eyed herbivores. The walls reeked of unsatisfied rage. Wary eyes blazed like hot coals from behind the bars.
Michael was scared of it. So scared he screamed silently into the pillow at night, and bit his lips to contain another scream.
No one knew what lurked beneath Michael Scofield’s confident façade. No one except perhaps Lincoln who could always read Michael like a book, at least the first few pages. That was precisely what Lincoln had said when he had seen the blueprints. “You look like a picture book.”
The stench of Fox River was overwhelming. It made Michael’s heart beat faster. It forced his brain to work harder. When he peered outside through identical rhombic openings in the fence during the day walk, he saw freedom. Not separate fragments of the surroundings like any normal man would. Not even bits and pieces of a giant mosaic like his brain usually did. He saw freedom in general. The vast blue abyss of the sky, occasional glimpses of Dr Tancredi’s fiery red hair…
Freedom. And all that mattered was to get Lincoln there. Where that freedom reigned. Michael was ready to tolerate anything for that.
“What’s on your mind, Fish?” Abruzzi asked, snapping Michael out of his depressing reverie. “The plan, I hope?”
“The world,” Michael prevaricated.
“The world is beautiful,” Abruzzi said, thoughtfully. “What makes it ugly is the devil that intrudes and makes things rot with a single touch.”
Michael flashed the gangster a curious look. He had put aside any attempts to see through his mask of a preacher. There were far more important things. But Abruzzi just kept pushing him into that subject with all his eccentric sermons about Jesus, forgiveness and the meaning of life.
“Don’t let the devil get you,” Abruzzi said.
Michael nodded, slightly bewildered. His mouth twitched upwards as he swallowed a question.
“The devils will get us all if we’re not lucky,” Michael mused aloud. “And pretty soon we’ll need all the luck we have.”
Abruzzi snorted humourlessly. Every single one of them was on edge these days. Michael rubbed his hands absentmindedly and asked:
“Tell me, John, when you were… you know, dying, what did you see?”
Abruzzi’s gaze became blank. Michael didn’t like discussing such fickle subjects as faith or the near-death experience, but right now he felt compelled to ask:
“Did you see angels? Or Jesus? Or white light, at least?”
“I didn’t see anything but my life, Fish,” Abruzzi replied with grim conviction. “I looked back at my life and I saw how unworthy it had been. Like a foul swamp amidst a dark forest.”
One of the guards urged them to get back to work. Michael smiled. He could tell where Abruzzi was heading, and he hastened to walk on before John brought up the issue of ‘forgiving’ Fibonacci again.
“Life is a powerful thing,” Abruzzi said behind Michael’s back. “The world crashes against us in all its shining glory. We resist it, we mistrust it, but it takes over anyway. That’s inevitable.”
Fox River was a maze, and sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder just how many extraordinary people you would meet in its depths. Michael dwelt on Abruzzi’s words for a while. What did the man mean? That the past would always catch up with you?
Michael knew that even if the plan worked, he’d never wash the filth of Fox River off his hands.
June 21-22, 2007
Author: Shaitanah
Rating: G
Timeline: by the end of Season 1
Summary: “Did you see angels, John?” Michael’s thoughts about Fox River and one weird conversation with Abruzzi the Preacher.
Disclaimer: Prison Break belongs to FOX and Paul Scheuring.
A/N: Wow, this one was written all the way back in 2007, but for some reason, never posted. Not that I’m particularly proud of it, but as it is complete, I feel it’s unfair to leave it unposted. Алекс, это, конечно, не Лёша/Коба, but it’s the closest thing)))
INSIGHT
The little isolated world that called itself Fox River was a miniature model of society with its own hierarchy, rules and players. And it was the most frightening thing of all.
Michael had planned everything, but that turned out to be beyond his calculations. He had been wrong in regarding prison as a building where a number of criminals were simply doing their time. It was no mere building. The building remained in those blueprints tattooed upon his upper body. The place Michael had got into was an entire world.
In its own twisted way, Fox River might have been a wild life model. Every day here was not living, but survival. But the more Michael observed the inmates, the more he came to realize that they were not real predators. The predators lived beyond the bars and garbed themselves in the guards’ uniforms. The men inside the cells had long since broken their teeth in a violent transition from masters of life to dim-eyed herbivores. The walls reeked of unsatisfied rage. Wary eyes blazed like hot coals from behind the bars.
Michael was scared of it. So scared he screamed silently into the pillow at night, and bit his lips to contain another scream.
No one knew what lurked beneath Michael Scofield’s confident façade. No one except perhaps Lincoln who could always read Michael like a book, at least the first few pages. That was precisely what Lincoln had said when he had seen the blueprints. “You look like a picture book.”
The stench of Fox River was overwhelming. It made Michael’s heart beat faster. It forced his brain to work harder. When he peered outside through identical rhombic openings in the fence during the day walk, he saw freedom. Not separate fragments of the surroundings like any normal man would. Not even bits and pieces of a giant mosaic like his brain usually did. He saw freedom in general. The vast blue abyss of the sky, occasional glimpses of Dr Tancredi’s fiery red hair…
Freedom. And all that mattered was to get Lincoln there. Where that freedom reigned. Michael was ready to tolerate anything for that.
“What’s on your mind, Fish?” Abruzzi asked, snapping Michael out of his depressing reverie. “The plan, I hope?”
“The world,” Michael prevaricated.
“The world is beautiful,” Abruzzi said, thoughtfully. “What makes it ugly is the devil that intrudes and makes things rot with a single touch.”
Michael flashed the gangster a curious look. He had put aside any attempts to see through his mask of a preacher. There were far more important things. But Abruzzi just kept pushing him into that subject with all his eccentric sermons about Jesus, forgiveness and the meaning of life.
“Don’t let the devil get you,” Abruzzi said.
Michael nodded, slightly bewildered. His mouth twitched upwards as he swallowed a question.
“The devils will get us all if we’re not lucky,” Michael mused aloud. “And pretty soon we’ll need all the luck we have.”
Abruzzi snorted humourlessly. Every single one of them was on edge these days. Michael rubbed his hands absentmindedly and asked:
“Tell me, John, when you were… you know, dying, what did you see?”
Abruzzi’s gaze became blank. Michael didn’t like discussing such fickle subjects as faith or the near-death experience, but right now he felt compelled to ask:
“Did you see angels? Or Jesus? Or white light, at least?”
“I didn’t see anything but my life, Fish,” Abruzzi replied with grim conviction. “I looked back at my life and I saw how unworthy it had been. Like a foul swamp amidst a dark forest.”
One of the guards urged them to get back to work. Michael smiled. He could tell where Abruzzi was heading, and he hastened to walk on before John brought up the issue of ‘forgiving’ Fibonacci again.
“Life is a powerful thing,” Abruzzi said behind Michael’s back. “The world crashes against us in all its shining glory. We resist it, we mistrust it, but it takes over anyway. That’s inevitable.”
Fox River was a maze, and sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder just how many extraordinary people you would meet in its depths. Michael dwelt on Abruzzi’s words for a while. What did the man mean? That the past would always catch up with you?
Michael knew that even if the plan worked, he’d never wash the filth of Fox River off his hands.
June 21-22, 2007