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20 November 2006 @ 10:22 am
Prison Break Gen Fiction: Fractured Moments  
Title: Fractured Moments
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: All (Gen)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Early parts of Season 2.
Summary: 50 sentences on Prison Break, written for 1fandom.

x-x-x-x-x

Shrine
Every piece of fact and speculation Michael unearths is added, overlapping, moving, merging, adjusting—it’s a monument to a larger truth that already owns him, and though it looks like chaos it’s Lincoln’s only chance to live.

Hard
There’s having a baby in your teens and then losing his father to drugs or boredom (or whatever Lincoln’s demons were), and then there’s the fear of history repeating itself and nothing to lean on but Lincoln and his nightmare example to work a “Scared Straight” miracle on this boy who is more like his father every day.

Pact
What was five became nine, and then ten before one was lost; it’s less an agreement now than a throwing together of destinies, piece and peril, chaos and collusion, agitation and anchor.

Lure
He begins with charm, moving into their confidence with false admiration and flattery, and by the time he drops the mask it’s too late for anyone to scream.

Clock
It ticks off years and weeks and hours, in a countdown that measures Lincoln’s mortality.

Lost
It’s only been a few weeks—not like the years Lincoln’s been stuck here waiting to die—but Michael feels his name slipping away along with every other sense of who he used to be.

Sudden
From ambush to orphan in a few short minutes, there is no time for “Mom” or “Sorry” or Why?

Irony
Toothless, imprisoned and banished from the world—if it’s all because she loves him he’s glad she says it, since he’d never be able to tell.

Well
Best damn assassin in the business— all calm and camouflage—and he can’t possibly be down here in the dark feeling his leg go numb and knowing that rescue isn’t coming.

Ugly
Self-righteousness from the mouth of a pedophile isn’t pretty no matter how you look at it.

War
He went to war for his country, and then his country became at war with him—encouraged and then betrayed, then later jailed for a wrong-time-wrong-place accident where his conviction was sealed by the color of his skin.

Cell
It’s worse here than Michael imagined, and even focusing on his plan to save Lincoln doesn’t keep these walls from echoing inside his soul.

Unknown
Kellerman has a different name in the real world; but under that cheerful demeanor lies a sociopath, waiting to prey on the innocent and unwary.

Three
All his thoughts become a fantasy future, where he and Maricruz and their baby begin their lives for real in some unreachable haven.

Broken
Connections cross and fray and loop inside his mind; he’s left with confusion and misguided reasoning, and intelligence alone can’t make the pieces be linear or keep them from wandering away.

Real
This Earth is but one life, a chance to live and love and grow, but even after the worst mistakes it’s not this life that matters; Maillor struggles to make them see that, make them become who they must to enter the afterlife of their eternity.

Blind
They’ve been partners since the academy, and Hale expects that to make some kind of difference up until Kellerman shoots him in that alley like a wayward dog.

Dread
It’s coming if he doesn’t stop it, if he can’t make it work and get them out while Lincoln’s alive.

Drink
She can’t leave the drugs behind any more than her mother could resist the alcohol, and one is gone and the other keeps getting lost, and burying himself in his career means there’s more to him than being a witness to their self-destruction.

Wait
The fear eats at him every day— visions of The Chair and his horrible, painful end—and it’s killing Lincoln to imagine it, because the waiting’s worse than dying

Fair
Losing his mother was bad enough, but being named her killer and knowing that the truth won’t save him is the final blow to his innocence: the Universe is not just.

Storm
Imperturbable, charming and deadly in turns, Abruzzi is as changeable as the weather near the sea.

Low
Maricruz is his love, carrying his baby, but Hector’s stealing her away just because he can and because Fernando can’t stop him or pay him back for that deliberate betrayal.

Winter
In prison Lincoln’s always hated the snow— the way it keeps him locked inside for months on end—but this year when he watches it fall he feels regret that this will likely be the last winter he ever sees.

Black
Prison divides along color the way he’s used to, but still he hides in a crowd he’s not really part of, and what’s sad is that he’s done it his entire life

Sky
A couple of times a day, if he’s lucky—that’s how often inmates on Death Row get outside—and it’s like air every time he sees it, but the sky always looks smaller caged by the walls surrounding Fox River Prison.

Weep
There are no more tears, finally, no will to keep going, only a single purpose that starts with bedsheets and ends with him falling into nothingness on his first and only flight.

Deep
All Lincoln’s thoughts are down where he can’t hear them, a litany of hopelessness, anger and loss.

Fast
Those quick hands of David’s make him an expert smalltime thief, but his mind is slower-- he never sees the big picture until it’s far too late to change his mind.

Words
Often dangerous but never vulgar, they are T-Bag’s unique menace—the weaving of savagery inside a cocoon of refinement.

Soon
Not even days stand between them and the execution, and Michael checks his timing and re-invents his plans, but it’s coming too fast and he’s afraid because... it’s his brother, and there’s just one chance to get it right.

Tense
Lincoln’s stomach clenches on itself in the darkness of the abyss, as Stolte shaves his head to help the electricity kill him faster when the moment comes.

Dust
Michael didn’t save him—because Lincoln’s stepping into the room that holds The Chair—and his goodbyes are stuck in his throat and no clemency is coming, and with a pang of excruciating finality Michael feels the soul inside him shatter into dust.

Why
A means to an end, every step along the way; her brother in invisible isolation and some junky taking the fall for his murder, but it’s all for a greater purpose—the luxury of scruples didn’t get her where she is today.

Fallen
He’d avoided the streets and the easy answers, but he weighs other people as casualties against his brother’s life now, and that means a large part of himself was lost when he wasn’t even looking.

Rain
The paths behind and through and across stream down inside him, every moment-number-place a deluge of details he must not forget.

Door
Open or shut forms the balance of everything, and Michael hopes she was really listening when he told it her was Lincoln’s life.

Closet
Though he wants better for his prisoners he rarely trusts them, and this is why: here in the dark, he remembers how safe Scofield seemed, right until he destroyed that trust and bound him to this chair before shutting him away.

Burn
He knew something was up in the break room, knew Scofield was behind it with his smartass-sneaky ways… bound and buried under the floor now, he watches Scofield and his gang steal past toward freedom, and he vows that he will get them for this and for everything, no matter what it takes.

Mortal
A bank-robbery legend and a gentleman underneath-- how could he choose the brink of escape to finally become mortal?

Flight
It should have been easier, this impossible plan-- it takes second chances, revisions, and five kinds of luck before they’re finally over that wall and running to freedom.

Knot
Freeing Michael from T-Bag’s handcuffs becomes a necessary but hopeless thing, until Abruzzi steps forth with his Gordion solution that renders the puzzle moot.

Villain
Nick was her lifeline to Lincoln’s freedom, but he stopped being a hero when he pulled out that gun.

Deed
Just one small, dangerous act was what it took, but she left the door open and let herself be used, and she knew it but still she did it— now loneliness and self-hatred are all she has left.

Place
She tracked down the quiet terminus of the Conspiracy’s secret, only to find that it was her end as well and she might never be found.

Token
Like relics of promise or hope the paper swans keep coming—without answers or a sense of where to start.

Flash
The facts tell a story, tell a future he has to find, and if he stares hard enough and gathers enough data the truth will explode before him in a gestalt of knowledge that leads him to the fugitives every time.

Road
The first part is over—they’ve escaped against all odds—and this journey toward buried riches is a treasure in itself, just the two of them together and brothers again on the open road.

Vanish
That so many of them escaped at once is a miracle, but they will not disappear if he can help it; there are traces and hints and connections to be found, and they form a path that Mahone will follow like a whisper in the dark.

Ocean
The ever-after ending that calls to Michael is a hideaway by the sea and though getting there may kill them both, its promise is all he has left.



-------- fin --------




 
 
 
The Grammarian about whom your mother warned you.acostilow on November 20th, 2006 06:35 pm (UTC)
I can't say that all of these made sense, but they're all incredibly poignant and full of meaning. And stuff. :)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Gen PB brothershalfshellvenus on November 21st, 2006 02:31 am (UTC)
:D High praise from someone who doesn't watch the show, because it's hard to tie some of them to anything if you don't know the characters (and their plans or pasts)!

Thank you! *hugs*
(Deleted comment)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: PB Final Hughalfshellvenus on November 21st, 2006 02:32 am (UTC)
Jesus wept! I have to stop reading your stuff or I will never write again! ;)
Hee! You're sweet. :) I have that same feeling about some of the writers in my other fandom. Sometimes it's "whee" and other times it's "god, why do I bother?" :0

Glad you enjoyed these, miss_vacant. :)
(Anonymous) on November 20th, 2006 06:53 pm (UTC)
She can’t leave the drugs behind any more than her mother could resist the alcohol, and one is gone and the other keeps getting lost, and burying himself in his career means there’s more to him than being a witness to their self-destruction.


It is easy to write Frank Tancredi as a monster, or a shallow, career-driven man -- this makes him more three-dimensional, as complex as the other characters in the show.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: PB Casthalfshellvenus on November 21st, 2006 02:34 am (UTC)
Eeee- you noticed the Governor Tancredi one! \o/

And your words just made me dance. :) Thank you!
alazysod on November 20th, 2006 09:49 pm (UTC)
GOD I love you. I love this. I love how graceful you are with the English language – everything flows so wonderfully.

I literally gasped at Lure, War, Fair, and Weep – just so excellent. Awesome job.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: PB Final Hughalfshellvenus on November 21st, 2006 02:37 am (UTC)
Oh, I was so hoping you'd notice that I posted these! I know your internet access has its limits these days.

I literally gasped at Lure, War, Fair, and Weep – just so excellent. Awesome job.
Wow. Thank you! I was so hoping "Lure" would capture T-Bag, and for "Weep" even Seth got his moment-- though a man should be more than his death. :(

Can't believe it took me 2 1/2 months to finish this. I started it right away and stalled out after about 10 prompts. The mini_wrimo prompted me to finish it off in pieces. :)
alazysod on November 21st, 2006 02:49 am (UTC)
They turned it on over the weekend so my brother could have some YouTube'ing to retreat to (my parents weren't there, I was in charge, we're moving in a week, he's kind of freaking out), but it hasn't been turned off at all. *shrugs* I'm a little afraid to ask why they gave it back completely.

It took me a moment to understand Weep, but then it hit me and I choked a bit. Oh, Seth. :(

Can't believe it took me 2 1/2 months to finish this.
I vaguely remembered you starting this – I'm glad you finished it. :)
alazysod on November 21st, 2006 10:16 pm (UTC)
I was re-reading this today and thought of something…Would you mind if I made icons of each sentence?
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: TBaghalfshellvenus on November 21st, 2006 10:37 pm (UTC)
How could I say "No" to that?

Please, icon away! I'd love to see them when you're done. :D
alazysod on November 21st, 2006 10:49 pm (UTC)
oh my god, excellent. :D I'll get started on them right not. They'll probably be done by tonight or tomorrow.
goshdarnheckgoshdarnheck on November 21st, 2006 05:25 am (UTC)
Out of all of these, Fast is the one that literally breaks my heart in two.

These were beautiful.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: PB Casthalfshellvenus on November 21st, 2006 05:57 pm (UTC)
Oh, you must be a 'Tweener fan then. That really seemed to describe all of his larger troubles to me, because he never meant for them to get that big.

So glad you liked these. Thank you. :)
alienmom: rendezvousalienmom on November 21st, 2006 11:32 am (UTC)
brilliant as always! each one made me feel so much more. i couldn't really pick one over another, but found this one to be perfection!

Words
Often dangerous but never vulgar, they are T-Bag’s unique menace—the weaving of savagery inside a cocoon of refinement.

The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: TBaghalfshellvenus on November 21st, 2006 06:01 pm (UTC)
Oooh, one of the T-Bag ones!

I've told my husband that T-Bag's voice is very distinct (and easy to get a handle on), and he says "Yeah, trailer trash." And then I have to tell him that he's really not paying attention. Trailer-trash is what you expect, but it isn't the way T-Bag talks at all.

I'll miss seeing the man go head-to-head with Abruzzi. Their mutual-irritation society was just entrancing.

Thanks for reading and commenting, alienmom! :)
alienmom: janealienmom on November 21st, 2006 07:56 pm (UTC)
it's all about the accent!! hehe! (if you only knew what an accent whore i really am '-P) it's not what you say, but how you say it.

no, not trailer trash at all...the refined southern gentlelman personified in a white suit, panama hat, walking stick sipping a mint juilp on the veranda. pure vocial seduction with an underbelly of "that dirty bastard". chilling, i tell ya!!! {{{shudder}}} RK is an amazing, extremely underated actor!
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: TBaghalfshellvenus on November 21st, 2006 10:40 pm (UTC)
the refined southern gentlelman personified in a white suit, panama hat, walking stick sipping a mint juilp on the veranda. pure vocial seduction with an underbelly of "that dirty bastard".
Yes-- he doesn't look like that at all, but that's the style of his sound, and his murderous predilections (which is exactly how he'd put it himself) are a surprise that creeps in as if you've somehow misheard...

When he said that alchocol tended to make him a bit "irrascible" I nearly died. Rrrrowr.
Yawnk: homeworksavannahjan on January 7th, 2007 10:43 pm (UTC)
Loved the sentence for "lure."

Your writing was incredible. I don't know the fandom, but I enjoyed reading.