Shadows (part 5/?)
Title: Shadows (Part 5)
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
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Time has lost all meaning to me. I have no idea how long I’ve been at Fox River. Some days I imagine it can’t have been more than a few weeks. Some days it seems like years.
I spent a few months drugged and locked up in the Whack Shack. But I’m back in my cell now. Home sweet home. I never thought I’d miss it.
My knick knacks are collecting. I remember my first year back when all I was allowed were a few books. Now I have a few grooming items, a picture of Lincoln and LJ playing football in a park, and an iPod that Veronica brought me one day. I don’t know how she got that on my approved list, but I’m thankful for the distraction it provides.
If there’s one thing I can say about Veronica, she’s tenacious. Even when we were kids, she went after what she wanted and she usually got it. Lincoln was amused by her, but when she set her sights on him he didn’t have a chance.
I hear a knock on my door and know that it’s her. One of the bulls told me earlier they saw her at intake so I’m expecting her.
She sweeps into the cell, not bothering with greetings or chit chat, and I smile. As she throws some files down on my bed I raise my eyebrows. “Well, hello, Veronica. It’s great to see you, too.”
Glancing up at me, distracted, she gives me her evil eye as she leafs through some papers. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” she says sarcastically.
I never did find out how she managed to have our visits occur in my cell instead of the visiting room. I don’t know if it’s because they wanted to keep me confined to this cell or if she pulled some strings. Whatever the case, I always look forward to them. It’s about as close to normal as I’ll get for a while.
Finally, she finds what she was looking for and she whips around to face me, a big grin on her face and holding a piece of paper out toward me. “Read it,” she says, simply.
She’s practically jumping out of her skin and her smile is contagious. I take the paper and start reading. And I have to sit down when I see what it is.
“Is this for real?” I ask her in disbelief.
“You bet it is,” she says, still with that goofy smile on her face.
In my hands is a letter from the President of the United States asking the courts to commute my ten-year sentence for the escape. “Due to events that have unfolded relating to Mr. Scofield’s brother, Lincoln Burrows…” it says.
“What does this mean?” I ask her as I read it through again.
“It means, that I have a court date set for next week where that will be handed over to the judge. He’ll have no choice but to free you. You’ve served more time than necessary for the bank robbery. You would have been up for parole after two years for that. You’ve been here for over four years, Michael. You’re going home next week.” The smile on her face won’t go away and I look at her, still not quite believing it.
As I look around my small cell, my home, it sinks in. I’m going home. It’s over. It’s all over.
I sink down onto my bed, lay the letter carefully aside, and shamelessly let the flood of tears escape. It’s all so overwhelming and as I bury my face in my hands I feel Veronica sit down next to me and wrap her arms around my shaking shoulders.
~~~**~~~
The next week drags by so slowly I start wishing Veronica would have waited until I could actually leave before telling me. She comes by again the day after she dropped the bomb on me that I’m leaving. We talk about the parole hearing and what will happen.
And I’m so happy the entire time she’s there, I can’t keep the smile off my face. This is really happening. I’m finally going home.
Most of the C.O.s congratulate me when they see me and word spreads like wildfire across the prison. I hear my name everywhere I go.
My time in the yard is entertaining. The cons go a little crazy when I come out and I start to feel like a celebrity. Sometimes it gets out of hand and the bulls take me back inside.
Not everyone is excited about my release, though. Today, during my usual stroll around my small square of grass, I catch T-Bag glaring at me from the other side of the fence. While the other cons are shouting “Way to go, Scofield!” and “You the fuckin’ man, Scofield!”, T-Bag is eyeing me like I’m his next meal.
I don’t stop, but I glare back at him as I pass. And just because I’m feeling a little ornery today, I grin at him a little and wave my left hand as I turn the corner.
I don’t look back, but I hear him hit the fence and start yelling. Shouts from the bulls follow quickly and I look over at John standing by my door waiting for me. He’s smiling in amusement.
Continuing my stroll around the yard, I ignore the ruckus happening on the other side of the fence. Cheers and jeers are called out and I see John motion for me to come in. Before I reach the door, I glance back and see C-Note. He’s laughing along with the rest of the cons and when his eyes catch mine, he nods in acknowledgement.
It’s the last time I’ll ever see C-Note.
“You keep doing shit like that and they’ll stop your yard time altogether,” John tells me as we walk back to my cell. He can’t keep the smile off his face, though, so it’s hard to take him seriously.
“Well, that would be a shame,” I say. I only have a few days left. I wouldn’t be too broken up about it if I didn’t get yard time for them.
“So what’re you gonna do when you get out?” he asks me.
I think about it for a minute, then say earnestly, “I think I’ll go have a nice big, juicy cheeseburger and a bottle of cold beer.”
John laughs a little at that, then sobers when he realizes that such a simple thing for him to have is something I crave so much. After a few moments, he smiles and nods. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
He drops me off at my cell and before I go in, he says, “I know this might not mean much, and I don’t know if I’ll get another chance. But I just wanted to tell you that you’re an ok guy in my book. And I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”
I smile and say, “Thanks, John. You’re a good man.” Then, I reach out my hand to shake his and he hesitates before taking it. We shake like old friends before I step into my cell and he locks the door behind me.
~~~**~~~
Tomorrow is the day. I’ll finally leave Fox River for the last time. And I’ll be walking out the front door. A big change from crawling over the wall.
As John predicted, my yard time was cut off. Me being out there got the inmates too rowdy.
An intake officer was just here going over the inventory of my belongings with me. What I came in with and what I’m leaving with.
After him, a court officer comes in with documents for me to sign. Along with instructions on the procedures for tomorrow and after I leave here. My parole officer’s information along with method and frequency of contact is given to me on a card. The meeting seems to be a formality that all cons have to go through before they leave.
Do you need assistance finding a place to live?
Do you need assistance finding a job?
Do you have someone meeting you at the prison?
No, no, yes. Veronica told me she and Lincoln would be waiting for me tomorrow.
The minutes seemed to tick by so slowly when he left that I was having serious doubts that I’d make it until tomorrow.
I made my bed. Cleaned the sink and toilet. Rearranged my meager belongings so they were all lined up perfectly on the small table next to the sink. And then I did it all again.
My thoughts keep going back to Sara, though. Does she know I’m leaving? Of course she does. I know there are reporters outside the prison every day now. They’re waiting for a chance to interview employees about me.
I wish I could see her; talk to her. Because I know the minute I step out of the prison, I’ll never see her again.
Knowing she’s been here over the last few years has been comforting. Even though I only saw her a handful of times, I knew she was close.
Right after I eat my dinner - my last meal of bland mush - Pope comes striding through my door.
To say I’m surprised would be an understatement. The last time I saw him was when he came to tell me Lincoln was exonerated. It seems so long ago now.
I stand up, wondering if he’s come to say goodbye and good riddance. Of all the people who were hurt by The Plan, Pope and Sara are the ones I agonize over most. He’s a good man and I know his job isn’t an easy one.
What I don’t expect, though, is him sitting on my cot with a sigh. I remain standing, confused. After seeming to debate with himself internally, he looks up at me and says, “I struggled over whether I should come down here or not. Usually when an inmate is being released, I give him a goodbye speech about leaving here and going out in the world a changed man. About how I hope to never see him in here again.”
He looks around my small and tidy cell before continuing. “But I don’t really think that speech applies to you.” He stands up and looks at me; looks down at my exposed arms and the tattoos that cover them.
Then he looks me in the eye and says, “I know you robbed that bank so you would end up in this prison. Hell, you didn’t even intend to rob the bank. You just wanted to get caught. You’ve had it all planned from the beginning. The tattoos, the bank, your trial, this prison.” Shaking his head he says, “I think you must be the craziest son of a bitch I’ve ever met in my life.”
I smile then, because I can’t help it. I’ve never actually sat down and told everyone the details of my plan. They would be easy enough to figure out looking back now. I can’t tell if Pope is disgusted or amazed with what he’s figured out, but the way he says it still makes me smile.
“You have everything you need for tomorrow?” he asks.
I tell him yes, and motion toward the stack of papers I’ll need for my release and the small box waiting to be packed with my personal belongings. “Not much I’m taking with me, sir.”
He nods and makes a move to leave, but I stop him at the door. “Warden, there is one thing I’d like to ask for before I go.”
~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
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Time has lost all meaning to me. I have no idea how long I’ve been at Fox River. Some days I imagine it can’t have been more than a few weeks. Some days it seems like years.
I spent a few months drugged and locked up in the Whack Shack. But I’m back in my cell now. Home sweet home. I never thought I’d miss it.
My knick knacks are collecting. I remember my first year back when all I was allowed were a few books. Now I have a few grooming items, a picture of Lincoln and LJ playing football in a park, and an iPod that Veronica brought me one day. I don’t know how she got that on my approved list, but I’m thankful for the distraction it provides.
If there’s one thing I can say about Veronica, she’s tenacious. Even when we were kids, she went after what she wanted and she usually got it. Lincoln was amused by her, but when she set her sights on him he didn’t have a chance.
I hear a knock on my door and know that it’s her. One of the bulls told me earlier they saw her at intake so I’m expecting her.
She sweeps into the cell, not bothering with greetings or chit chat, and I smile. As she throws some files down on my bed I raise my eyebrows. “Well, hello, Veronica. It’s great to see you, too.”
Glancing up at me, distracted, she gives me her evil eye as she leafs through some papers. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” she says sarcastically.
I never did find out how she managed to have our visits occur in my cell instead of the visiting room. I don’t know if it’s because they wanted to keep me confined to this cell or if she pulled some strings. Whatever the case, I always look forward to them. It’s about as close to normal as I’ll get for a while.
Finally, she finds what she was looking for and she whips around to face me, a big grin on her face and holding a piece of paper out toward me. “Read it,” she says, simply.
She’s practically jumping out of her skin and her smile is contagious. I take the paper and start reading. And I have to sit down when I see what it is.
“Is this for real?” I ask her in disbelief.
“You bet it is,” she says, still with that goofy smile on her face.
In my hands is a letter from the President of the United States asking the courts to commute my ten-year sentence for the escape. “Due to events that have unfolded relating to Mr. Scofield’s brother, Lincoln Burrows…” it says.
“What does this mean?” I ask her as I read it through again.
“It means, that I have a court date set for next week where that will be handed over to the judge. He’ll have no choice but to free you. You’ve served more time than necessary for the bank robbery. You would have been up for parole after two years for that. You’ve been here for over four years, Michael. You’re going home next week.” The smile on her face won’t go away and I look at her, still not quite believing it.
As I look around my small cell, my home, it sinks in. I’m going home. It’s over. It’s all over.
I sink down onto my bed, lay the letter carefully aside, and shamelessly let the flood of tears escape. It’s all so overwhelming and as I bury my face in my hands I feel Veronica sit down next to me and wrap her arms around my shaking shoulders.
~~~**~~~
The next week drags by so slowly I start wishing Veronica would have waited until I could actually leave before telling me. She comes by again the day after she dropped the bomb on me that I’m leaving. We talk about the parole hearing and what will happen.
And I’m so happy the entire time she’s there, I can’t keep the smile off my face. This is really happening. I’m finally going home.
Most of the C.O.s congratulate me when they see me and word spreads like wildfire across the prison. I hear my name everywhere I go.
My time in the yard is entertaining. The cons go a little crazy when I come out and I start to feel like a celebrity. Sometimes it gets out of hand and the bulls take me back inside.
Not everyone is excited about my release, though. Today, during my usual stroll around my small square of grass, I catch T-Bag glaring at me from the other side of the fence. While the other cons are shouting “Way to go, Scofield!” and “You the fuckin’ man, Scofield!”, T-Bag is eyeing me like I’m his next meal.
I don’t stop, but I glare back at him as I pass. And just because I’m feeling a little ornery today, I grin at him a little and wave my left hand as I turn the corner.
I don’t look back, but I hear him hit the fence and start yelling. Shouts from the bulls follow quickly and I look over at John standing by my door waiting for me. He’s smiling in amusement.
Continuing my stroll around the yard, I ignore the ruckus happening on the other side of the fence. Cheers and jeers are called out and I see John motion for me to come in. Before I reach the door, I glance back and see C-Note. He’s laughing along with the rest of the cons and when his eyes catch mine, he nods in acknowledgement.
It’s the last time I’ll ever see C-Note.
“You keep doing shit like that and they’ll stop your yard time altogether,” John tells me as we walk back to my cell. He can’t keep the smile off his face, though, so it’s hard to take him seriously.
“Well, that would be a shame,” I say. I only have a few days left. I wouldn’t be too broken up about it if I didn’t get yard time for them.
“So what’re you gonna do when you get out?” he asks me.
I think about it for a minute, then say earnestly, “I think I’ll go have a nice big, juicy cheeseburger and a bottle of cold beer.”
John laughs a little at that, then sobers when he realizes that such a simple thing for him to have is something I crave so much. After a few moments, he smiles and nods. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
He drops me off at my cell and before I go in, he says, “I know this might not mean much, and I don’t know if I’ll get another chance. But I just wanted to tell you that you’re an ok guy in my book. And I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”
I smile and say, “Thanks, John. You’re a good man.” Then, I reach out my hand to shake his and he hesitates before taking it. We shake like old friends before I step into my cell and he locks the door behind me.
~~~**~~~
Tomorrow is the day. I’ll finally leave Fox River for the last time. And I’ll be walking out the front door. A big change from crawling over the wall.
As John predicted, my yard time was cut off. Me being out there got the inmates too rowdy.
An intake officer was just here going over the inventory of my belongings with me. What I came in with and what I’m leaving with.
After him, a court officer comes in with documents for me to sign. Along with instructions on the procedures for tomorrow and after I leave here. My parole officer’s information along with method and frequency of contact is given to me on a card. The meeting seems to be a formality that all cons have to go through before they leave.
Do you need assistance finding a place to live?
Do you need assistance finding a job?
Do you have someone meeting you at the prison?
No, no, yes. Veronica told me she and Lincoln would be waiting for me tomorrow.
The minutes seemed to tick by so slowly when he left that I was having serious doubts that I’d make it until tomorrow.
I made my bed. Cleaned the sink and toilet. Rearranged my meager belongings so they were all lined up perfectly on the small table next to the sink. And then I did it all again.
My thoughts keep going back to Sara, though. Does she know I’m leaving? Of course she does. I know there are reporters outside the prison every day now. They’re waiting for a chance to interview employees about me.
I wish I could see her; talk to her. Because I know the minute I step out of the prison, I’ll never see her again.
Knowing she’s been here over the last few years has been comforting. Even though I only saw her a handful of times, I knew she was close.
Right after I eat my dinner - my last meal of bland mush - Pope comes striding through my door.
To say I’m surprised would be an understatement. The last time I saw him was when he came to tell me Lincoln was exonerated. It seems so long ago now.
I stand up, wondering if he’s come to say goodbye and good riddance. Of all the people who were hurt by The Plan, Pope and Sara are the ones I agonize over most. He’s a good man and I know his job isn’t an easy one.
What I don’t expect, though, is him sitting on my cot with a sigh. I remain standing, confused. After seeming to debate with himself internally, he looks up at me and says, “I struggled over whether I should come down here or not. Usually when an inmate is being released, I give him a goodbye speech about leaving here and going out in the world a changed man. About how I hope to never see him in here again.”
He looks around my small and tidy cell before continuing. “But I don’t really think that speech applies to you.” He stands up and looks at me; looks down at my exposed arms and the tattoos that cover them.
Then he looks me in the eye and says, “I know you robbed that bank so you would end up in this prison. Hell, you didn’t even intend to rob the bank. You just wanted to get caught. You’ve had it all planned from the beginning. The tattoos, the bank, your trial, this prison.” Shaking his head he says, “I think you must be the craziest son of a bitch I’ve ever met in my life.”
I smile then, because I can’t help it. I’ve never actually sat down and told everyone the details of my plan. They would be easy enough to figure out looking back now. I can’t tell if Pope is disgusted or amazed with what he’s figured out, but the way he says it still makes me smile.
“You have everything you need for tomorrow?” he asks.
I tell him yes, and motion toward the stack of papers I’ll need for my release and the small box waiting to be packed with my personal belongings. “Not much I’m taking with me, sir.”
He nods and makes a move to leave, but I stop him at the door. “Warden, there is one thing I’d like to ask for before I go.”
~TBC~