Shadows (part 1/?)
Title: Shadows
Author: angel_1013
Rating: R for language & violence
Characters: Michael POV with others thrown in for flavor.
Summary: This is the third and last installment of my Regret/Pieces series. You should probably read Regret and Pieces first as this won’t make much sense otherwise. Shadows takes us back to Michael’s POV and runs parallel time-wise to Sara’s POV in Pieces. So this basically covers Michael’s time back at Fox River. Also, this won’t be updated daily like the last one. But I’ll try for at least once a week…depends on when I get it finished. Ok, enough yammering…
Part 1
Most men would be a little put off when the woman they love sets them up. Especially if the woman they love is responsible for sending them back to prison. It doesn’t exactly say, “I love you.” Most men would probably take that as a big hint that things were over.
I’m not most men.
Veronica came to see me today, all fired up and full of piss and vinegar. That’s Veronica. When she’s angry, her street-tough upbringing starts to come out. She was escorted into my little five foot by eight foot cell by two C.O.s .
I noticed that she didn’t have any shoes, jewelry or accessories on and I laughed to myself. Did they think I would break out with a belt?
“You asshole!” She slapped me as soon as we were alone. That certainly stopped my inner laughter.
I covered my stinging cheek with my hand. That little girl can pack a punch.
“What were you thinking? Or were you thinking at all?” I’m reminded of the time I loosened the wheels on her skateboard so it would go faster. Except, I forgot to tell her. I think our exchange that time started very similar to this.
“You’ll probably have to be more specific. It’s been a busy week for me,” I tell her with a grin that usually helps me out when she’s this mad at me.
Not so much this time, though. Her face flushed red and she turned her back to me. Another habit from her childhood. She doesn’t like people to see her “mad face” or her “upset face” and definitely not her “crying face”, so she’ll turn around until it passes.
“You could have gotten yourselves killed,” she said, her voice calmer.
“But we didn’t,” I told her needlessly. “Although, someone lost a hand. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. Well, I did, but not really. I didn’t actually chop…”
“Enough!” She spun back around to pin me with an angry stare. “This isn’t funny, Michael. You’ll do ten more years for this.”
“I know.” I shrugged and sat down on my very uncomfortable cot. “You didn’t have to come all the way back from DC to tell me that.”
She finally calmed down and told me how things were going. She found Terrance Steadman very much alive. And she was making some good progress in getting that fact revealed to the public.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I had to come back here eventually. You know that.” I sent her on her way; unhappy but at least understanding why I did what I did.
Bellick also came to see me today. I wish I could say his visit was a pleasant as Veronica’s. The only thing I regret about going to that cemetery is now I’ll have an endless stream of days where I can look forward to getting my ass kicked by Bellick.
~~~**~~~
I have a new cell now. I’m feeling a little flattered that they retrofitted a cell just for me. It only took them four months to do it. Shiny new cement walls covered in bulletproof Plexiglas. The floor is a thick sheet of steel and gets extremely cold. I wish I had some slippers.
The door has a little slot, just like the old one, for them to shove my food through and take my clothes for washing. But I think the locks are automated and controlled from another room.
It’s not much, but it’ll be home for the next thirteen to fourteen years so I better get used to it. I run my hands along the Plexiglas wall and feel a little bit like Hannibal Lector. All I need is one of those drawers to pass things through with.
Veronica made sure I have a few comforts. She sent some of my favorite books and some blank journals. They won’t let me have anything to write with, though. I guess they’re afraid I’ll magically break out of this new fortress with a #2 pencil.
As I’m settling in for the day with a book I’ve read about twenty times, Bellick stops by to see me.
“Got you some reading material, I see,” he sneers when he walks in and sees the books stacked under my cot.
“I did, Boss,” I tell him, trying my best to show respect. It’s hard when he beats the crap out of me on a weekly basis, though.
He paces to the far end of my cell, looking around. I don’t know at what, there’s not much to see. “I saw your wife last night, Scofield. She jiggled her titties in my face for a dollar.”
Ah, so we’re going this route today. “Did you like them?” I ask in amusement. “I paid for them.”
The swift kick to the back of my knees catches me off guard and I sink to the floor. He kicks me again in the shin as he steps over me and goes to the door. “Someday, I’m gonna get proof that she helped you and I’m gonna deport her ass out of this country.”
And he’s gone. Until next week, anyway. Where the topic of conversation will either be about my “stripper slut wife”, my feelings for Sara, or updates on the recapture of my “friends”.
~~~**~~~
I try not to think too much. I don’t really have much to think about. Veronica gives me regular updates on Lincoln and it sounds like she’s really close to getting all charges against him dropped.
I’ve already analyzed every square inch of my cell. It’s pretty sound. Those guys did a great job designing it. One day when the slot on my door was open, I overheard one of the bulls talking about how all the toilets in gen pop were ripped out and reinforced onto an indestructible wall.
Isn’t that something? I guess they didn’t figure out how much work it took just to be able to get that toilet away from the wall.
I realize that I’ve been fixating on a small scratch in the wall when Pope walks into my cell.
He hasn’t spoken to me since I’ve been back. I’ve actually been dreading seeing him again after what I did to him.
“No matter what your reasons were, and how much you believed in them, what you’ve done can never be excused. I want you to know that,” he says as if rehearsed.
I nod my head and look him dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. You’re a good man.” I do feel bad for what I had to do to Pope. He didn’t deserve to be knocked out and shoved in a closet. But there was no other way to get Lincoln to the infirmary.
“Are you sorry for what you did to Westmoreland, too?” There’s a tinge of emotion in his voice and I imagine he and Westmoreland got along pretty well.
“I’m sorry about what happened to Westmoreland, but I wasn’t responsible for that. You’ll have to ask someone else about how he got that wound in his gut.” I get angry when I think about what happened to him. At least I got a chance to visit his daughter and tell her that her father loved her and did everything he could to see her one last time. At least I could do that.
I watch as he tries to put it together and can’t quite get the pieces in place. “Well, I guess we’ll have plenty of time to figure it out since all your friends have been recaptured.”
All except Lincoln. He sees the look of defiance on my face and turns toward the door. Before leaving, though, he turns back around and says, “I just though you should know that all the charges against your brother have been dropped. He’s a free man.”
I can’t help the smile that comes to my face. I knew this day was coming, but it feels a little unreal and I’m unsteady on my feet. The cot catches me as I sink down and smile like a loon. Lincoln is free!
When I finally look back up, Pope is gone and the door is locked and closed again.
~TBC~
Author: angel_1013
Rating: R for language & violence
Characters: Michael POV with others thrown in for flavor.
Summary: This is the third and last installment of my Regret/Pieces series. You should probably read Regret and Pieces first as this won’t make much sense otherwise. Shadows takes us back to Michael’s POV and runs parallel time-wise to Sara’s POV in Pieces. So this basically covers Michael’s time back at Fox River. Also, this won’t be updated daily like the last one. But I’ll try for at least once a week…depends on when I get it finished. Ok, enough yammering…
Part 1
Most men would be a little put off when the woman they love sets them up. Especially if the woman they love is responsible for sending them back to prison. It doesn’t exactly say, “I love you.” Most men would probably take that as a big hint that things were over.
I’m not most men.
Veronica came to see me today, all fired up and full of piss and vinegar. That’s Veronica. When she’s angry, her street-tough upbringing starts to come out. She was escorted into my little five foot by eight foot cell by two C.O.s .
I noticed that she didn’t have any shoes, jewelry or accessories on and I laughed to myself. Did they think I would break out with a belt?
“You asshole!” She slapped me as soon as we were alone. That certainly stopped my inner laughter.
I covered my stinging cheek with my hand. That little girl can pack a punch.
“What were you thinking? Or were you thinking at all?” I’m reminded of the time I loosened the wheels on her skateboard so it would go faster. Except, I forgot to tell her. I think our exchange that time started very similar to this.
“You’ll probably have to be more specific. It’s been a busy week for me,” I tell her with a grin that usually helps me out when she’s this mad at me.
Not so much this time, though. Her face flushed red and she turned her back to me. Another habit from her childhood. She doesn’t like people to see her “mad face” or her “upset face” and definitely not her “crying face”, so she’ll turn around until it passes.
“You could have gotten yourselves killed,” she said, her voice calmer.
“But we didn’t,” I told her needlessly. “Although, someone lost a hand. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. Well, I did, but not really. I didn’t actually chop…”
“Enough!” She spun back around to pin me with an angry stare. “This isn’t funny, Michael. You’ll do ten more years for this.”
“I know.” I shrugged and sat down on my very uncomfortable cot. “You didn’t have to come all the way back from DC to tell me that.”
She finally calmed down and told me how things were going. She found Terrance Steadman very much alive. And she was making some good progress in getting that fact revealed to the public.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I had to come back here eventually. You know that.” I sent her on her way; unhappy but at least understanding why I did what I did.
Bellick also came to see me today. I wish I could say his visit was a pleasant as Veronica’s. The only thing I regret about going to that cemetery is now I’ll have an endless stream of days where I can look forward to getting my ass kicked by Bellick.
~~~**~~~
I have a new cell now. I’m feeling a little flattered that they retrofitted a cell just for me. It only took them four months to do it. Shiny new cement walls covered in bulletproof Plexiglas. The floor is a thick sheet of steel and gets extremely cold. I wish I had some slippers.
The door has a little slot, just like the old one, for them to shove my food through and take my clothes for washing. But I think the locks are automated and controlled from another room.
It’s not much, but it’ll be home for the next thirteen to fourteen years so I better get used to it. I run my hands along the Plexiglas wall and feel a little bit like Hannibal Lector. All I need is one of those drawers to pass things through with.
Veronica made sure I have a few comforts. She sent some of my favorite books and some blank journals. They won’t let me have anything to write with, though. I guess they’re afraid I’ll magically break out of this new fortress with a #2 pencil.
As I’m settling in for the day with a book I’ve read about twenty times, Bellick stops by to see me.
“Got you some reading material, I see,” he sneers when he walks in and sees the books stacked under my cot.
“I did, Boss,” I tell him, trying my best to show respect. It’s hard when he beats the crap out of me on a weekly basis, though.
He paces to the far end of my cell, looking around. I don’t know at what, there’s not much to see. “I saw your wife last night, Scofield. She jiggled her titties in my face for a dollar.”
Ah, so we’re going this route today. “Did you like them?” I ask in amusement. “I paid for them.”
The swift kick to the back of my knees catches me off guard and I sink to the floor. He kicks me again in the shin as he steps over me and goes to the door. “Someday, I’m gonna get proof that she helped you and I’m gonna deport her ass out of this country.”
And he’s gone. Until next week, anyway. Where the topic of conversation will either be about my “stripper slut wife”, my feelings for Sara, or updates on the recapture of my “friends”.
~~~**~~~
I try not to think too much. I don’t really have much to think about. Veronica gives me regular updates on Lincoln and it sounds like she’s really close to getting all charges against him dropped.
I’ve already analyzed every square inch of my cell. It’s pretty sound. Those guys did a great job designing it. One day when the slot on my door was open, I overheard one of the bulls talking about how all the toilets in gen pop were ripped out and reinforced onto an indestructible wall.
Isn’t that something? I guess they didn’t figure out how much work it took just to be able to get that toilet away from the wall.
I realize that I’ve been fixating on a small scratch in the wall when Pope walks into my cell.
He hasn’t spoken to me since I’ve been back. I’ve actually been dreading seeing him again after what I did to him.
“No matter what your reasons were, and how much you believed in them, what you’ve done can never be excused. I want you to know that,” he says as if rehearsed.
I nod my head and look him dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. You’re a good man.” I do feel bad for what I had to do to Pope. He didn’t deserve to be knocked out and shoved in a closet. But there was no other way to get Lincoln to the infirmary.
“Are you sorry for what you did to Westmoreland, too?” There’s a tinge of emotion in his voice and I imagine he and Westmoreland got along pretty well.
“I’m sorry about what happened to Westmoreland, but I wasn’t responsible for that. You’ll have to ask someone else about how he got that wound in his gut.” I get angry when I think about what happened to him. At least I got a chance to visit his daughter and tell her that her father loved her and did everything he could to see her one last time. At least I could do that.
I watch as he tries to put it together and can’t quite get the pieces in place. “Well, I guess we’ll have plenty of time to figure it out since all your friends have been recaptured.”
All except Lincoln. He sees the look of defiance on my face and turns toward the door. Before leaving, though, he turns back around and says, “I just though you should know that all the charges against your brother have been dropped. He’s a free man.”
I can’t help the smile that comes to my face. I knew this day was coming, but it feels a little unreal and I’m unsteady on my feet. The cot catches me as I sink down and smile like a loon. Lincoln is free!
When I finally look back up, Pope is gone and the door is locked and closed again.
~TBC~