Category: Lincoln’s POV (Genfic, angsty)
Summary: Lincoln’s POV. The hidden moments during the relentless march to the end.
Warnings: Spoilers for Episode #10 (114), “The Rat”
Author’s Notes: Written for prisonbreak100, where I have the Gen pairing of Lincoln and Michael. This is for prompt #48 “Punishment.” Also written for the pbreak_drabbles challenge on “Missing Scenes. The title comes from Dylan Thomas.
He is sitting here next to the doctor, his fingers clenched in hers.
He knows that it’s a small thing and that he shouldn’t need this comfort, but somehow… it helps. It anchors him when his body wants to fly around the room, to escape this thing that’s coming for him. He hates the fact that he has to just sit here and take it.
He was not made to do that, to let his fate walk up and destroy him when his body has the strength to run.
It is a continuous effort of will now, to keep the beast in him from running wild.
The razor on his head is slick and cool, carefully removing the last traces of his identity to make him just that easier to kill.
Stolte is quiet beside him, and Lincoln can’t help but notice that he is tender and gentle as he shaves him. Each slow, methodical sweep is its own apology.
He wishes he could say that he is grateful.
They shuffle down the corridor in a pack, like they need six people to keep him under control. At any other time, he might be flattered. Right now, he is alone in a crowd.
They’re taking him to Michael, to this ritual of visitation that marks his last hours as a human being.
How will he stay strong for Michael, when he’s struggling under the weight of all this himself?
He wishes it was now—the whole thing just over. Because these hours/moments/minutes are too long to be survived.
They begin with awkward snippets of conversation that start and sputter out. Then he decides on cards, and as he grabs the deck they shoot out of his hand and splatter all over the floor in an explosion of lost possibilities. Michael rescues them wordlessly, then comes up behind him and lays those hands on his shoulders. He leans back, tense and broken all at once, and Michael’s slow, rolling massage helps quiet the discomfort of his soul.
The phone presses hard into his chest, as LJ’s words spin through his head. Probably he should have said something in return. He didn’t.
He is tired. He has been tired nearly every day of his life except when he was hopped-up, sexed-up or angry.
He has nothing left to give.
He barely glances at those shattered faces as he leaves Veronica and Michael to rescue themselves. He turns toward that final doorway.
He can see it, waiting for him. Dark, evil… unavoidable. It will snuff him out like a candle, and never, ever care.
This is the ending that has haunted him for the last three years.
He almost welcomes it as his feet carry him forward.
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