Characters: Michael, Sara (Gen)
Summary: Five years ago, Michael never would have done this…
Author's Notes: For fox_las ("Conceal your intentions").
Also for prisonbreak100 (Insides), and writers_choice ("Masks").
Five years ago, he never would have done this.
Michael's late-night nobility always painted a kinder picture of who he could have been.
Now, midway through his redemption for having turned his back on his drug-addicted brother, Michael waited in his prison cell for total darkness to arrive. He had work to do tonight if he hoped to ever break Lincoln out of this place before next week's execution date.
Time was short, and Michael's careful cool was edging over into panic.
Truth itself had been Michael's victim long before he ever got here, but much as he kept trying to find his way back to it, each new crisis made him push it farther away.
The doctor—Michael knew he didn't deserve the gift of her name—was supposed to be a means for gaining access to the infirmary and slowly corroding an important pipe. A daily appointment was all he needed, whether or not she was the one who actually tended to him. Instead, he flirted with her during their sessions, steadily soliciting her interest and trust. He knew he'd probably keep working her over as long as it took, until she was ready to give him anything he might someday come to ask.
He hadn't planned to go down that road at first, but the softness of her eyes made him say things he knew she'd want to hear. He was still doing it. It might have been to hold her attention, or to increase the chances that she'd help him if he needed her. Either way the words kept coming, even though he knew he had nothing to offer her in return. Each stroke of his thumb over her wrist was another lie, another promise he couldn't keep. He would leave her with broken hopes and unanswered questions, when she'd done nothing to deserve either one of them.
So, he could tell himself that it was only because of Lincoln, that he wasn't the kind of man who would ordinarily betray her.
But the truth was that no one but Michael could put on that mask so easily and still pretend that someone else was always pulling the strings.
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