Shadows (part 2/?)
Title: Shadows (Part 2)
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.
Part 1
Part 2
It’s been a year since I went to see Sara’s grave. Her empty grave. A year since I’ve gotten fresh air. These four walls have become a part of me. They breathe and sweat and exist.
I’m going to celebrate the milestone by doing some sit-ups in my cell, followed by a light lunch of brown goo with a side of overcooked green beans. A decadent anniversary celebration.
But right now I can’t get out of bed. My side still hurts from last week’s beating courtesy of Bellick. And a small crack has appeared in the ceiling above my bed. I believe it’s slowing driving me insane.
I see it every night; an imperfect mar in an otherwise flawless cement job. I wish I had something to fill it in with, some caulk perhaps. When I wake up in the morning it’s still there. Mocking my inability to do anything about it.
My fingers twitch with a need to touch it, but I’m resisting. If I touch it, the oils from my fingers will get in the crack and if, by chance I should get some caulk, it won’t set properly.
Every day as I fall asleep, I count it as a victory. It’s one more day I’ve gone without ruining the crack.
I realize I’m going a little crazy. What else do I have to do in this place? I get to leave this cell for a total of 10 minutes every three days to shower. That’s 100 minutes a month, 1,200 minutes a year. Give or take a few minutes depending on which month it is.
Sometimes I get a glimpse outside when Bellick beats me so badly I have to see the new doctor. Being in the infirmary brings back memories.
I really need a hobby.
Most days and nights are spent thinking about The Plan. I try to remember everything I can. Try to figure out if there had been another way to get out without involving the people I had to. Without involving Sara.
It all came down to that damn key. I should have taken it. It would have been better if I had stolen it without her noticing than what I ended up having to do. But she still would have noticed it missing and figured out it was me.
As I do my daily sit-ups and push-ups - the only sort of exercise I can manage in my tiny cell - I wonder what she’s doing. Did she get a job in a respectable place like a hospital or doctor’s office? Does she think of me? Hate me?
I wonder if the elaborate plan to lure me back to Chicago was her idea or someone else’s. I’m sure I’ll never know since I’ll probably never see her again. I’ll be 46 before I see the world outside this prison again. And I’m pretty sure she won’t be waiting for me.
Doing my sit-ups, I can see that damn crack on the ceiling. I wonder if someone would fix it if I asked.
~~~**~~~
“Wake up, Scofield!” Bellick’s obnoxious voice jolts me awake. I have no idea what time it is. “You think the taxpayers of Illinois wanna be spending their hard earned money so you can nap all day?”
“No, sir,” I say as I stand up unsteadily.
“Damn straight they don’t.” He stands just inside the door with a pipe in his hand and a chill runs down my spine. This won’t be pleasant.
The blow to my side comes swift and sends me reeling to the floor. That soreness from last week has now been trumped by blinding pain and I can’t breathe.
As Bellick paces around me he says, “This is gonna be fun.” He takes another hit and I try to curl up in a ball to occupy as little space as possible. “Did you hear the news yet? About your junkie whore doctor?”
I have no quip for him in response. Mostly because I can’t get enough air in my lungs to speak.
“She got herself a new boyfriend. Just so happens he’s the new doc. Ain’t that sweet?” He kneels down to get a good look at my face. He yearns for a reaction.
Sara’s here? She works here? Bellick sees the confusion and surprise on my face because he grins and stands up. “Oh, this is great! You didn’t know she came back to work here, did you?”
He sounds delighted to have this new bit of information to hang over me now. He whacks at me again with the pipe and this time I feel the jagged edge of it tear my sweat pants and slice into my leg.
I try to hold back my scream of pain. There’s nothing Bellick loves more than to hear you make noise. But when I grasp at my leg I look down and see blood coming out from between my fingers.
“Shit,” Bellick mutters under his breath and knocks on the door until it opens. I hear talking outside my cell, then two C.O.s come in and pull me up from the floor.
After putting on my shackles, they drag me past a frowning Bellick and he twists his mouth into a grin and says, “Guess you’ll get to see your lady doc sooner than you thought.”
On the way to the infirmary, I can only think of one thing. Sara. Sara will be there. Will she treat me? Will she talk to me? Look at me? Touch me?
Sara.
I stare up at the dark night sky and stars that blink down at me. I haven’t been outside at night in a year and I close my eyes, trying to inhale the cool air. I think I moan in delight because one of the C.O.s tugs on my arm and says, “Come on, Scofield. We ain’t out here for stargazing.”
My heart is pounding in my chest, so loud I feel like it will explode. Sara. I can see her clearly in my mind. Some of the details have gotten fuzzy, but I can still see her smile. Her eyes. Her look of betrayal when I asked her to leave the door open for me.
The pounding of my heart is so loud and my ribs hurt so much, I have to ask the C.O.s to stop half-way up the stairs to the infirmary. “I need to rest, boss,” I pant to the familiar C.O. on my left.
Thankfully they take pity on me and let me stop for a moment. I look up the stairs and remember the days I trudged up them for my daily insulin shot. My daily visit with her.
Will she look different? Will her hair be up or down? Will she be wearing that necklace she always used to have around her neck? These questions are burning inside me and I tell the C.O.s that I’m ready to move again.
As soon as we get to the top of the stairs, I see through the window of the outer infirmary office. Lights have been turned out and most everyone has gone home for the night.
But I see her. Through at least three plate glass windows and obscured by part of a wall and some medical equipment, I see her hair.
It’s down.
The C.O.s grip my arms tighter. Do they think I’m running somewhere? With a giant gash in my leg, an inability to breathe, and shackles around my ankles? They must because I feel them move closer to me as they steer me into the inner offices of the infirmary.
She hasn’t seen me yet, but I can’t tear my gaze away from her. She’s not wearing her lab coat. Instead, she has on a black turtleneck sweater and gray slacks. I wonder if they’re the same slacks she was wearing when we crawled through the ceiling together.
She’s pressing a button on the wall and talking, but I can’t hear what she says. I look in the direction she is and see Dr. Davis in the exam room next door. He’s about to respond to whatever question she asked him when we come rattling through the door.
They both look up at the noise and Sara’s face turns white. All I can do is look at her. She’s still beautiful, and she looks good. Not hollow like the last time I saw her as I was driven away from the cemetery.
I want to protest when the C.O.s start dragging me over to the other exam room instead of toward her. I want to memorize her face. I want to remember so the details don’t get fuzzy again.
Dr. Davis calls her name. Sara. Her first name. Was Bellick telling me the truth? Is she dating this man? He tells her to go downstairs and wait for him.
But she’s not paying attention to him. She’s still looking at me. I wish I could talk to her. Tell her everything. I feel helpless. She’s so close to me, but miles away. I know if I say anything right now, it wouldn’t be good for either of us. So I stay silent. And I will her to know what I’m thinking.
Dr. Davis and the C.O.s help me up on the table and he yells at her. Calls her Doctor. And she flinches. I want to punch him for that.
She scrambles to gather her things after that but she keeps glancing up at me. I try to smile, to show her I’m ok, but I don’t think it quite makes it to my lips. “Don’t look over there, look at me,” the doctor I’ve only seen a handful of times says to me. He seems desperate to keep Sara out of my site, even telling a C.O. to move a screen to block my view.
I wonder why.
Just before the screen is moved, I see her one last time. She’s putting her coat on and still watching me. Almost like she’s curious. I wonder if I look different to her. I wouldn’t know, since there aren’t any mirrors in my cell.
And then she’s gone. I wait for her to come back, but she doesn’t.
But I got to see her again. And now I know she’s here.
Close to me.
~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.
Part 1
Part 2
It’s been a year since I went to see Sara’s grave. Her empty grave. A year since I’ve gotten fresh air. These four walls have become a part of me. They breathe and sweat and exist.
I’m going to celebrate the milestone by doing some sit-ups in my cell, followed by a light lunch of brown goo with a side of overcooked green beans. A decadent anniversary celebration.
But right now I can’t get out of bed. My side still hurts from last week’s beating courtesy of Bellick. And a small crack has appeared in the ceiling above my bed. I believe it’s slowing driving me insane.
I see it every night; an imperfect mar in an otherwise flawless cement job. I wish I had something to fill it in with, some caulk perhaps. When I wake up in the morning it’s still there. Mocking my inability to do anything about it.
My fingers twitch with a need to touch it, but I’m resisting. If I touch it, the oils from my fingers will get in the crack and if, by chance I should get some caulk, it won’t set properly.
Every day as I fall asleep, I count it as a victory. It’s one more day I’ve gone without ruining the crack.
I realize I’m going a little crazy. What else do I have to do in this place? I get to leave this cell for a total of 10 minutes every three days to shower. That’s 100 minutes a month, 1,200 minutes a year. Give or take a few minutes depending on which month it is.
Sometimes I get a glimpse outside when Bellick beats me so badly I have to see the new doctor. Being in the infirmary brings back memories.
I really need a hobby.
Most days and nights are spent thinking about The Plan. I try to remember everything I can. Try to figure out if there had been another way to get out without involving the people I had to. Without involving Sara.
It all came down to that damn key. I should have taken it. It would have been better if I had stolen it without her noticing than what I ended up having to do. But she still would have noticed it missing and figured out it was me.
As I do my daily sit-ups and push-ups - the only sort of exercise I can manage in my tiny cell - I wonder what she’s doing. Did she get a job in a respectable place like a hospital or doctor’s office? Does she think of me? Hate me?
I wonder if the elaborate plan to lure me back to Chicago was her idea or someone else’s. I’m sure I’ll never know since I’ll probably never see her again. I’ll be 46 before I see the world outside this prison again. And I’m pretty sure she won’t be waiting for me.
Doing my sit-ups, I can see that damn crack on the ceiling. I wonder if someone would fix it if I asked.
~~~**~~~
“Wake up, Scofield!” Bellick’s obnoxious voice jolts me awake. I have no idea what time it is. “You think the taxpayers of Illinois wanna be spending their hard earned money so you can nap all day?”
“No, sir,” I say as I stand up unsteadily.
“Damn straight they don’t.” He stands just inside the door with a pipe in his hand and a chill runs down my spine. This won’t be pleasant.
The blow to my side comes swift and sends me reeling to the floor. That soreness from last week has now been trumped by blinding pain and I can’t breathe.
As Bellick paces around me he says, “This is gonna be fun.” He takes another hit and I try to curl up in a ball to occupy as little space as possible. “Did you hear the news yet? About your junkie whore doctor?”
I have no quip for him in response. Mostly because I can’t get enough air in my lungs to speak.
“She got herself a new boyfriend. Just so happens he’s the new doc. Ain’t that sweet?” He kneels down to get a good look at my face. He yearns for a reaction.
Sara’s here? She works here? Bellick sees the confusion and surprise on my face because he grins and stands up. “Oh, this is great! You didn’t know she came back to work here, did you?”
He sounds delighted to have this new bit of information to hang over me now. He whacks at me again with the pipe and this time I feel the jagged edge of it tear my sweat pants and slice into my leg.
I try to hold back my scream of pain. There’s nothing Bellick loves more than to hear you make noise. But when I grasp at my leg I look down and see blood coming out from between my fingers.
“Shit,” Bellick mutters under his breath and knocks on the door until it opens. I hear talking outside my cell, then two C.O.s come in and pull me up from the floor.
After putting on my shackles, they drag me past a frowning Bellick and he twists his mouth into a grin and says, “Guess you’ll get to see your lady doc sooner than you thought.”
On the way to the infirmary, I can only think of one thing. Sara. Sara will be there. Will she treat me? Will she talk to me? Look at me? Touch me?
Sara.
I stare up at the dark night sky and stars that blink down at me. I haven’t been outside at night in a year and I close my eyes, trying to inhale the cool air. I think I moan in delight because one of the C.O.s tugs on my arm and says, “Come on, Scofield. We ain’t out here for stargazing.”
My heart is pounding in my chest, so loud I feel like it will explode. Sara. I can see her clearly in my mind. Some of the details have gotten fuzzy, but I can still see her smile. Her eyes. Her look of betrayal when I asked her to leave the door open for me.
The pounding of my heart is so loud and my ribs hurt so much, I have to ask the C.O.s to stop half-way up the stairs to the infirmary. “I need to rest, boss,” I pant to the familiar C.O. on my left.
Thankfully they take pity on me and let me stop for a moment. I look up the stairs and remember the days I trudged up them for my daily insulin shot. My daily visit with her.
Will she look different? Will her hair be up or down? Will she be wearing that necklace she always used to have around her neck? These questions are burning inside me and I tell the C.O.s that I’m ready to move again.
As soon as we get to the top of the stairs, I see through the window of the outer infirmary office. Lights have been turned out and most everyone has gone home for the night.
But I see her. Through at least three plate glass windows and obscured by part of a wall and some medical equipment, I see her hair.
It’s down.
The C.O.s grip my arms tighter. Do they think I’m running somewhere? With a giant gash in my leg, an inability to breathe, and shackles around my ankles? They must because I feel them move closer to me as they steer me into the inner offices of the infirmary.
She hasn’t seen me yet, but I can’t tear my gaze away from her. She’s not wearing her lab coat. Instead, she has on a black turtleneck sweater and gray slacks. I wonder if they’re the same slacks she was wearing when we crawled through the ceiling together.
She’s pressing a button on the wall and talking, but I can’t hear what she says. I look in the direction she is and see Dr. Davis in the exam room next door. He’s about to respond to whatever question she asked him when we come rattling through the door.
They both look up at the noise and Sara’s face turns white. All I can do is look at her. She’s still beautiful, and she looks good. Not hollow like the last time I saw her as I was driven away from the cemetery.
I want to protest when the C.O.s start dragging me over to the other exam room instead of toward her. I want to memorize her face. I want to remember so the details don’t get fuzzy again.
Dr. Davis calls her name. Sara. Her first name. Was Bellick telling me the truth? Is she dating this man? He tells her to go downstairs and wait for him.
But she’s not paying attention to him. She’s still looking at me. I wish I could talk to her. Tell her everything. I feel helpless. She’s so close to me, but miles away. I know if I say anything right now, it wouldn’t be good for either of us. So I stay silent. And I will her to know what I’m thinking.
Dr. Davis and the C.O.s help me up on the table and he yells at her. Calls her Doctor. And she flinches. I want to punch him for that.
She scrambles to gather her things after that but she keeps glancing up at me. I try to smile, to show her I’m ok, but I don’t think it quite makes it to my lips. “Don’t look over there, look at me,” the doctor I’ve only seen a handful of times says to me. He seems desperate to keep Sara out of my site, even telling a C.O. to move a screen to block my view.
I wonder why.
Just before the screen is moved, I see her one last time. She’s putting her coat on and still watching me. Almost like she’s curious. I wonder if I look different to her. I wouldn’t know, since there aren’t any mirrors in my cell.
And then she’s gone. I wait for her to come back, but she doesn’t.
But I got to see her again. And now I know she’s here.
Close to me.
~TBC~