Characters: Sucre, Michael (Gen)
Summary (Season One): Sucre left, not for long, and now he was sorry…
Author's Notes: A late birthday present for master_chatnoir, whom I hope will still enjoy this even though it's Gen.
Also for writers_choice, this is "Doorway."
Sucre felt bad now that he'd ever asked for a new cellmate. He'd been mad about losing his conjugals—for nothing, the phone was fake—but he hadn't expected Bellick to put Haywire in with Michael. That dude was dangerous and he'd rattled Michael pretty bad, and Sucre had never wanted that—he liked Michael. The way Michael had been so happy to have him back afterwards only made him feel guiltier.
Maybe that was why he was serenading Block "A" como un loco while Michael tried to kick down the wall behind the toilet.
"Hurry up!" Sucre hissed mid-chorus. The other prisoners had started singing too, and the guards would be coming soon if they kept it up. Not to mention that he felt like a complete idiot, and Michael's little half-smile in his direction didn't help one bit. "I mean it," Sucre added. He launched into a new song and kept an eye on the floor, ready for Bellick to come around the corner any minute.
Michael braced himself and delivered the final blow, knocking out a sizeable chunk. Dust curled into the hole left behind. Sucre crouched down in front of it and peered into the darkness to see what was back there.
Pipes and empty space, with a sturdy-looking floor. Exactly like Michael had said.
Two months ago, Sucre never would've thought he'd get so excited over plumbing. But what he was looking at was a solid piece in Michael's escape plan, one that made all the future steps possible—something Sucre could finally see and believe in for himself.
This hole in front of him was the doorway to the future Michael had promised. With only four months left, Sucre had passed on it before.
Now he found himself thinking that maybe he wanted to be part of where it led.
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