aspensnow (aspensnow) wrote in prisonbreak_fic,
aspensnow
aspensnow
prisonbreak_fic

Ficlet: Hopeless Time To Roam

Title: Hopeless Time To Roam
Author: Aspen Snow
Characters: Lincoln, Michael, Veronica, LJ
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He was the kid who had to become a man...



He is afraid of dying forever.  It’s why his hands shake.  It’s why he wakes up sometimes quiet, sometimes screaming, but always with a sudden jerk of movement. 

 

Dying itself is a momentary thing, he thinks, it’s the forever part that really gets him, the nothing new, nothing old, nothing in between, the nothing at all that makes him sweat and desperate and want to pray to a God he doesn’t even believe in.

 

He’s going to close his eyes and go to sleep.  That’s how he’s going to die.  So he doesn’t sleep anymore because it feels like some morbid kind of dress rehearsal.  He already knows that he is going to die; he doesn’t want to know what it feels like too.

 

In church Michael puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him to have a little faith. 

 

In what is the question he wants to ask when he turns around but Michael is already gone and his words find nothing but empty space.  Which is fine, he thinks, because Michael always needed to believe.

 

The he’s chauffeured out of the church in shackles and chains, an innocent man.  He’s got one less day to live.

 

He isn’t going to sleep tonight.

.

.

.

.

.

 

He breathed in her laughter once, kissed her when her eyes were warm and her dimples were flashing in amusement.  He kissed her with her head thrown back and her arms thrown carelessly around his neck.  He breathed in all that airy laughter because he’d never been that carefree.

 

He still tastes it sometimes, her laughter.  It was all heated sweetness and breathless sunshine.  She was everything easy and gentle and innocent and he thinks that maybe his calloused fingers were too rough on all those soft things.

 

The last time he saw her there were tear drops on her lips and creases of pain in her skin.

 

He breathed in her laughter once and he wishes he were selfless enough to give it back.

.

.

.

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.

 

His son has his eyes.  It’s why he wants him there before he dies.  He wants to know, has to know, that some part of him will live on after he dies.

 

He feels guilty for that because his son is already apathetic and angry and he doesn’t need to know that no one lives forever.  But the warden was right and he does want the image of the one thing in this world that was his burned into him before he dies.  And he knows that it’s an image he will never have a chance to remember and he knows that his son will only ever see him dying for the rest of his life.

 

But he’s selfish enough to want it anyways.  So he adds innocence to list of things he has taken away from his son and moves on.

 

His son has eyes and it’s his fault.

.

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.

 

He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and told him to have a little faith.  His brother looked up at him with shaky eyes and ragged breaths and believed him. 

 

He breaks a little right then.  He was a kid who had to stretch himself across years of time and experience to become a man and he found himself spread too thin in too many places.  His new skin is lonely and he isn’t flexible enough to deal with all the responsibility.  His eyes are still too small to see the whole picture and his little brother exists only in his peripheral vision.

 

It was inevitable then, what happened next.  He fucked everything up, got himself sent to prison, a death sentence around his neck and broken promises chasing after him.  But in his peripheral vision he can see the focused intense unwavering eyes of his little brother and he thinks that maybe that little bit of faith will get him through it all.

 

The day he sees Michael standing in the shadows of a prison church he breaks into a thousand pieces of sharp regret that he is sure will hurt more than dying. 

 

The little boy in the too big black suit with the sad eyes and the belief is going to die in this place and he’s not sure he can live with that.

.

.

.

.

.

 

He was going to die with her laughter in his lungs and a pair of eyes in his memory.  He was going to die with his little brother still in the peripheral of his vision safe and sound somewhere that he couldn’t see.

 

He still is going to die.

 

But now his little brother is trying to fix it.

 

And that’s tragic and heartbreaking and so wrong.  Because he’s afraid to sleep and surely, surely Michael knows now that fear is more than just air.  By now he knows that it’s a tangible thing that chokes and paralyzes and kills.

 

He was the kid who had to become a man.  Michael was supposed to just be the kid.

 

He isn’t going to sleep tonight.



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