Character: Lincoln (Gen)
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Summary: Lincoln's regrets are many, but even now there's still room for one more.
Author's notes: My pbficsurvivor entry for Round 1 (a group competition), and also for my prisonbreak100 Gen claim of Lincoln and Michael (this is #40, "Sight).
When he closes his eyes, he can make himself see what he wants to. Instead of four gray walls and no future but death, he can remember all the places he'd rather be.
Sometimes it's with LJ, back when he was so little Lincoln thought anything was possible. Or in bed with Veronica, her hair so black against the pillow he could fall into it like night.
His memories of his parents are well-rehearsed, so distant they don't seem real. But he remembers summers at a neighborhood park, children laughing under trees that stretched up to the sky.
Michael looked up to him then, always thought Lincoln could make things right even when they got too big for any kid to handle. Before they became so much larger than Lincoln that he wound up with a death sentence for something he didn't even do.
In Fox River, Lincoln thinks about lives he'll never have, other people he'll never—
What? Michael, here? That's impossible!
Michael would never—he's not a criminal, not the type to—
All this time, it's been the consolation Lincoln's held onto.
Michael was the only thing he didn't screw up…
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