PB fic: Reprieve
Reprieve
Title: Reprieve
Fandom: Prison Break
Spoilers: Up through 2.7 Buried
Characters: Sara Tancredi, Paul Kellerman
Rating: T (Teen)
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Prison Break. Not for profit.
Summary: My idea for a resolution of Sara's cliffhanger at the end of 2.7 Buried.
You drop your mail, and fall to your knees in front of your coffee table, unable to believe what you are seeing. For a few moments your brain is just frozen, unable to process what your eyes are telling you. And then your mind erupts in a maelstrom of thoughts.
Morphine. Syringes. Cotton balls. Morphine. For a moment you are mesmerized by the curve of the bottle. You reach out a shaky hand, but withdraw it before touching anything.
What the hell? Where the fuck did all this come from? That brings you up short. From them, of course. Them. Those nameless, faceless somebodies that Michael was trying to tell you about that day in the infirmary when he asked you to make a mistake. The same somebodies that your father was just trying to warn you about on the phone today.
Oh, god, your father. You can feel the tears start to come again. Is this what they want? To tempt you into using again, here in your melancholy, your most vulnerable moment after finding your father, hung by the door in his office. Hung by them. You’ll never believe that he did that to himself. He never would. Governor Frank Tancredi is too strong. Was too strong. And there you go, crying all over again.
Suddenly you see movement out of the corner of your eye and you whip your head around. You suck in a breath when you come face to face with one of them, a large intimidating man in a severe blue suit and dark sunglasses. But that’s not what’s catches your eye. This man is also holding a gun on you. For a moment, you can’t breathe. You don’t know what to do. But you can’t take your eyes off him, or it.
The man gestures with his gun at the drug paraphernalia on the table.
“Doctor Tancredi, we can do this the easy way or -“
Suddenly a loud noise erupts and it startles you. You would know that noise anywhere. A gunshot. There is no mistaking it. You blink rapidly for a moment, trying to figure out if you’ve been hit, and where. But it isn’t you that crumples to the ground, it is your assailant. You quickly jump up and turn to face the direction that the shot must have come from.
Lance!
But - what - he was - he is -
Before you can gather your thoughts, and certainly well before you can make any kind of decision about what to do, Lance approaches you - no, wait, he passes by you and approaches your assailant. He stoops down to check and make sure he’s dead, or well on his way. Apparently he is, because Lance rises and looks at you earnestly.
“Sara...” He stops to take a deep breath. “Sara, I don’t have time to explain. You have to trust me. At least for this moment. You’re in danger. You have to get out of here. As soon as possible. Before what happened to your father happens to you.”
All you can do is stand there and watch as Lance looks around, then grabs a wastebasket and comes over to the coffee table and sweeps all of the drugs and supplies into it. He pulls the bag out and ties it, then carefully puts the wastebasket back where he found it. Then he approaches the other man - the dead man - and appears to get ready to drag him and the drugs out of your apartment.
You take a deep breath. Danger. Right. You’re in danger. You immediately flash back to your conversation with Michael a few days ago.
"Listen, anyone with any ties to me and my brother is in danger now."
"I’ve no ties to you and your brother anymore."
"There is a way I can protect you. It's already in your possession.”
Apparently, you still have ties to Michael and Lincoln, whether you want to or not. And now it looks like Michael was right. You’re in as much danger as they are.
You fortify yourself. Plan, you need a plan. Grab some clothes, your cell phone, anything that Michael has ever sent or given you - all those paper birds. There must be something in there that can protect you, if only you can figure it out. Maybe try and get to Michael? You saw on the news that they might be in Utah... You also saw that Lincoln’s son was in Arizona...
Lost in your thoughts, you don’t pay attention to what Lance is doing, until he calls your name. You look around and see that everything is cleaned up. There is no longer a trace of drugs or dead men in your living room. Lance is standing just inside your apartment door.
“Sara. I can’t tell you this strongly enough. You have to get out of town. Immediately. It’s your only hope. I can’t do anything else to help you...” He pauses like he wants to say something more, but doesn’t. “Good luck.”
And then he leaves. Lance or whatever. You hope you never see him again. Whoever he is.
You take one last deep breath and start to get ready to flee, to get ready to leave this life behind. You laugh ironically to yourself. You feel like a cat, with nine lives. And now it is time to move on to the next one.
Title: Reprieve
Fandom: Prison Break
Spoilers: Up through 2.7 Buried
Characters: Sara Tancredi, Paul Kellerman
Rating: T (Teen)
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Prison Break. Not for profit.
Summary: My idea for a resolution of Sara's cliffhanger at the end of 2.7 Buried.
You drop your mail, and fall to your knees in front of your coffee table, unable to believe what you are seeing. For a few moments your brain is just frozen, unable to process what your eyes are telling you. And then your mind erupts in a maelstrom of thoughts.
Morphine. Syringes. Cotton balls. Morphine. For a moment you are mesmerized by the curve of the bottle. You reach out a shaky hand, but withdraw it before touching anything.
What the hell? Where the fuck did all this come from? That brings you up short. From them, of course. Them. Those nameless, faceless somebodies that Michael was trying to tell you about that day in the infirmary when he asked you to make a mistake. The same somebodies that your father was just trying to warn you about on the phone today.
Oh, god, your father. You can feel the tears start to come again. Is this what they want? To tempt you into using again, here in your melancholy, your most vulnerable moment after finding your father, hung by the door in his office. Hung by them. You’ll never believe that he did that to himself. He never would. Governor Frank Tancredi is too strong. Was too strong. And there you go, crying all over again.
Suddenly you see movement out of the corner of your eye and you whip your head around. You suck in a breath when you come face to face with one of them, a large intimidating man in a severe blue suit and dark sunglasses. But that’s not what’s catches your eye. This man is also holding a gun on you. For a moment, you can’t breathe. You don’t know what to do. But you can’t take your eyes off him, or it.
The man gestures with his gun at the drug paraphernalia on the table.
“Doctor Tancredi, we can do this the easy way or -“
Suddenly a loud noise erupts and it startles you. You would know that noise anywhere. A gunshot. There is no mistaking it. You blink rapidly for a moment, trying to figure out if you’ve been hit, and where. But it isn’t you that crumples to the ground, it is your assailant. You quickly jump up and turn to face the direction that the shot must have come from.
Lance!
But - what - he was - he is -
Before you can gather your thoughts, and certainly well before you can make any kind of decision about what to do, Lance approaches you - no, wait, he passes by you and approaches your assailant. He stoops down to check and make sure he’s dead, or well on his way. Apparently he is, because Lance rises and looks at you earnestly.
“Sara...” He stops to take a deep breath. “Sara, I don’t have time to explain. You have to trust me. At least for this moment. You’re in danger. You have to get out of here. As soon as possible. Before what happened to your father happens to you.”
All you can do is stand there and watch as Lance looks around, then grabs a wastebasket and comes over to the coffee table and sweeps all of the drugs and supplies into it. He pulls the bag out and ties it, then carefully puts the wastebasket back where he found it. Then he approaches the other man - the dead man - and appears to get ready to drag him and the drugs out of your apartment.
You take a deep breath. Danger. Right. You’re in danger. You immediately flash back to your conversation with Michael a few days ago.
"Listen, anyone with any ties to me and my brother is in danger now."
"I’ve no ties to you and your brother anymore."
"There is a way I can protect you. It's already in your possession.”
Apparently, you still have ties to Michael and Lincoln, whether you want to or not. And now it looks like Michael was right. You’re in as much danger as they are.
You fortify yourself. Plan, you need a plan. Grab some clothes, your cell phone, anything that Michael has ever sent or given you - all those paper birds. There must be something in there that can protect you, if only you can figure it out. Maybe try and get to Michael? You saw on the news that they might be in Utah... You also saw that Lincoln’s son was in Arizona...
Lost in your thoughts, you don’t pay attention to what Lance is doing, until he calls your name. You look around and see that everything is cleaned up. There is no longer a trace of drugs or dead men in your living room. Lance is standing just inside your apartment door.
“Sara. I can’t tell you this strongly enough. You have to get out of town. Immediately. It’s your only hope. I can’t do anything else to help you...” He pauses like he wants to say something more, but doesn’t. “Good luck.”
And then he leaves. Lance or whatever. You hope you never see him again. Whoever he is.
You take one last deep breath and start to get ready to flee, to get ready to leave this life behind. You laugh ironically to yourself. You feel like a cat, with nine lives. And now it is time to move on to the next one.