(no subject)
Title: Red Like Crimson
Summery: The day before the escape, Abruzzi/T-bag, some spiritual ministrations .
Rating: R
Spoilers: MAJOR MAJOR spoilers for season finale including picture..
Warnings: We have violence, extensive references to child abuse/molestation, sexual situations and very dubious consent.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters nor do I own them. If I did the show would continue to be filmed in Chicago because Chicago is the coolest (well the coldest anyways) instead of moving shooting to where is it? Austin TX? Will they let you shoot a show that suggests the death penalty isn't always right on in TX? And I have to add, I do not profit from this in any way.
Author’s Notes: If you want all the slightly menacing biblical quotes you can think of from “vengeance is mine saith the Lord” to “there is no peace saith my God, for the wicked” right at your fingertips you can’t do better then the Brigham Young University Spiritual Guide on Conflict Resolution. Not what it was created for, but it sure beats spending hours digging through a concordance.
Red Like Crimson
T-bag screamed once, when he saw Abruzzi bringing the ax down and again when he looked across the garage floor and saw his hand lying there, separate from him. After that he didn’t scream. Even before they heard the man calling “anyone in there” and cocking his shotgun some instinct had seized T-bag, silencing him.
Michael went ghost pale when it happened, like a porcelain doll. He clutched his own wrist in a gesture of unconscious empathy but when he turned and ran he did not look back. Sucre, ever the crybaby whined and wheedled “are we just going to leave him like that?” Then he fled.
Smiling broadly Abruzzi reached down, grabbed T-bag by the throat and pulled him to his knees. “Wherefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off, and cast them from thee,” He intoned. “It is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into everlasting fire.” He laughed coarsely and kissed the bleeding man on his cold, white lips.
“Leave him,” Lincoln ordered not even pretending he cared about anything but getting to the plane. “We’ve gotta move.” Abruzzi laughed again then letting go of T-bag followed Lincoln out the door.
T-bag remained alone, on his knees in the empty garage. Blood seemed to soak everything. Icy shock was already gripping him. Where Abruzzi had clutched his throat, where his lips had been pressed radiated the only warmth left to him. It felt almost like love.
He picked up his hand. He couldn’t feel it any more, except as an object. It was just a thing now, no longer part of him.
“It’s all right,” T-bag whispered. It wasn’t the first time some part of him had been ripped away. He was still alive. So he would just have to live with it.
Holding the severed hand tight to his chest he rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered out into the night.
********************
T-Bag had left Alabama more out of desperation than any master plan. Fled to Chicago, to the urban North hoping to put as much space as he could between himself and the pile of corpses that stood as a final testament to his frustration, his anger, his fear, and finally his failure to live in the world. Six pretty bodies, three girls three boy thrown carelessly in a heap limbs akimbo. Six streams of lifeblood mingling in a single pool.
It hadn’t done him any good, creating that distance. Chicago had quickly given way to the walls of the Fox River Penitentiary. If he’d known he’d be caught, he would have stayed in Alabama. There was something too harsh, too volatile about the Midwest. The bitter winters, the wild springs with their strong winds, cyclones and sudden storms. It seemed like evidence that God was cruel. As if more evidence was needed.
Since construction on the CO’s breakroom had wrapped up they'd been doing grounds work on PI, working outside. Midway through the shift the sky turned a deep purple gray then almost instantly the sky opened up. T-bag flattened himself against a nearby wall but it offered almost no shelter. He was immediately soaked through by the sheets of rain and all but blinded as well.
The rain was warm enough as it began to fall then almost magically, like a spell that turns everything to crystal the temperature dropped the rain turning to hail, stinging pellets of ice. When he felt a hand on his arm, another laid across his shoulders clasping the back of his neck he did not question or resist but let himself be lead out of the storm into one of the tool sheds.
T-bag blinked the water from his eyes, breathed deeply before he half turned his head (that hand still resting on the back of his neck) to look at the man who had helped him. He had a pretty good idea who it would be but he clung to the faint hope he was wrong. He wasn’t. John Abruzzi equally drenched was standing behind him (conveniently between him and the door) smiling beatifically.
“Hello Theodore,” Abruzzi said. “I’d been hoping for a chance to speak to you alone and the Lord seems to have provided.”
“Really answered your prayers, huh John.” T-bag laughed nervously.
“I hoped we could pick up where we left off so many weeks ago.”
“If you mean with you bleedin’ on the floor I’d be happy to oblige.” T-bag scanned the room for anything that might be used as a weapon. There was a dearth of such objects, highly suspicious considering that it was a tool shed. Abruzzi’s fingers kneaded into his neck.
“You wouldn’t be thinking of violating our truce, would you Theodore?” He asked a harsh not creeping into his voice.
“Of course not. Now I would never do something like that.” T-bag stammered. The fingers eased off.
“Where we left off was with me trying to save your soul. I wasn’t ready then. I was too confused myself. I turned my back on you and the devil stepped into reclaim you. I was weak myself that day but I have grown in the Lord since then and now my house is build on a firm foundation and I am ready to do battle for your soul.”
“Sure sounds like that rain is letting up. We’d better get out there and get back to work before the CO’s coming in here looking for us.” T-bag attempted. Abruzzi let the deafening pounding of hail on the shed roof answer for him.
“I can feel your heart pounding,” Abruzzi said softly, placing his other hand on T-bag’s chest. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you? You don’t need to be afraid, I’m giving you a wondrous gift, the gift of salvation.”
“And it’s not even my Birthday,” T-bag snarled through clenched teeth. “I know what you’re doing John. You wanna kill me but you know that if you do anything before we’re outside these walls pretty little Scofield might just panic and leave you behind plane or no plane. I figure you’re planning on hitting me the minute we’re clear of Fox River. Wait any longer and I just might hit you first. Problem is you’ll be on the run, pressed for time. It’ll have to be quick and where’s the satisfaction in that? You want your satisfaction John. You wanna play with me like a kitty cat with a mouse you go right ahead. I’ll play whatever game you’ve got. You’d be amazed at what I’m willing to do to keep breathing for a few more minutes.”
Abruzzi did not respond, he only ordered, “Get on your knees.” His voice rose to an authoritative roar as he forced T-bag to the ground. “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow, though they be red like crimson, they shall be white as wool. Confess your sins Theodore. If we confess our sins he is faith and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."
“I don’t have anything to confess to your God,” T-bag retorted. “He made the world and I’ve never done anything I didn’t have to do to live in it.”
“Confess.” Abruzzi was kneeling beside him, shouting in his face, shaking him by the shoulders. “All the lives you’ve destroyed, all the people you’ve hurt. Confess.”
“I never hurt anyone who didn’t force my hand.”
“That 16 year old girl you killed, what did she ever do to you.”
“She looked like she was 12.” Abruzzi backhanded him at that. He tried to hit back but the bigger man caught his arms.
“Tell the truth Theodore. Tell the Lord all you have done and you will be forgiven.” Abruzzi hissed in his face. “What did she ever do to you?”
“She was screaming, saying she was gonna tell. First thing you learn, first thing. You don’t scream, you never tell. You shut up, you do what you’re told. She made me kill her. Everyone one of them, they made me do it.”
“You chose. You chose to do evil. I know you Theodore Bagwell, I know all about you. I know what you are. I’ve seen you’re your files…”
“How in hell did you get those?” T-bag shouted. Abruzzi ignored him.
“I know how deep the claws of the devil are in you. I know that since you were a boy you have chosen to walk hand in hand with the devil. I was surprised Theodore, you weren’t always trash were you? There was the misfortune of your natural mother being incurably insane but your Aunt and Uncle took you in to their home.”
“My uncle had reasons for taking me in that had nothing to do with Christian charity.” T-bag was struggling harder, getting more and more angry.
"They were a good family, a respectable family and you destroyed them. You turned their son against them. You got your cousin Jimmy to run away, introduced him to drugs, and dragged him down to your level. He could have had a decent live.”
“He had a decent life until you killed him,” T-bag screamed. “I protected Jimmy. I kept his father away from him for as long as I could then I got him out of that house. My uncle always told me I asked for it, that I came on to him but I never did till I figured out he’d leave Jimmy alone if I made things easy for him.”
He had broken free of Abruzzi and rocked back and forth on his knees gasping out words, nearly hyperventilating, sobbing. “I only did it for Jimmy. I could distract my uncle because I reminded him of her, his sister, my crazy mother. He said I had her pointy witch face and her fine hair, that I talked like her and kissed like her he said we had the same sharp tongue.”
He rocked harder, hunkered over, banging his head against the cement floor. “He told me don’t scream and don’t tell. I never told anyone. They tried to make me tell. When I came to school with two black eyes they said they’d take me somewhere safe but I wouldn’t leave Jimmy. I won’t tell.”
Abruzzi grabbed T-bag, slapping him across the face.
“Come back Theodore,” he demanded, shaking him roughly. “You need to be here for this.” T-bag clutched onto him, finger’s sinking deep in Abruzzi’s solid arms, his face pressed against Abruzzi’s chest. He was trembling, his eyes wild, gasping for breath. Abruzzi laughed and smoothed T-bags crazy crest of hair. “Shhhh,” he whispered almost paternally. “It’s alright.”
As T-bag clutched him desperately tight, Abruzzi unfastened the other man’s pants then his own. Prying T-bag from him he moved behind him.
“It’s all right,” Abruzzi repeated caressing his cheek. T-bag nuzzled, sobbing against the other man’s hand even as it pushed him down to the floor, coming to rest again on the back of his neck.
He almost cried out when Abruzzi entered him choked it back so there was only the faintest wordless growl. Abruzzi fucked T-bag almost tenderly, though when he finished he carelessly shoved aside the other man’s body, still convulsing with sobs. T-bag curled around himself on the floor. Abruzzi zipped his fly and turning came face to face with Westmoreland who looked, frankly horrified his mouth agape under his gray mustache.
“Storm’s blown over,” Westmoreland said.
“How long have you been standing there?” Abruzzi asked pleasantly.
“Long enough to see a helluva lot more then I wanted to but not long enough to figure out if you both are putting each other on, if you’re crazy or both. I think you two better keep away from each other. And me.”
Summery: The day before the escape, Abruzzi/T-bag, some spiritual ministrations .
Rating: R
Spoilers: MAJOR MAJOR spoilers for season finale including picture..
Warnings: We have violence, extensive references to child abuse/molestation, sexual situations and very dubious consent.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters nor do I own them. If I did the show would continue to be filmed in Chicago because Chicago is the coolest (well the coldest anyways) instead of moving shooting to where is it? Austin TX? Will they let you shoot a show that suggests the death penalty isn't always right on in TX? And I have to add, I do not profit from this in any way.
Author’s Notes: If you want all the slightly menacing biblical quotes you can think of from “vengeance is mine saith the Lord” to “there is no peace saith my God, for the wicked” right at your fingertips you can’t do better then the Brigham Young University Spiritual Guide on Conflict Resolution. Not what it was created for, but it sure beats spending hours digging through a concordance.
Red Like Crimson
T-bag screamed once, when he saw Abruzzi bringing the ax down and again when he looked across the garage floor and saw his hand lying there, separate from him. After that he didn’t scream. Even before they heard the man calling “anyone in there” and cocking his shotgun some instinct had seized T-bag, silencing him.
Michael went ghost pale when it happened, like a porcelain doll. He clutched his own wrist in a gesture of unconscious empathy but when he turned and ran he did not look back. Sucre, ever the crybaby whined and wheedled “are we just going to leave him like that?” Then he fled.
Smiling broadly Abruzzi reached down, grabbed T-bag by the throat and pulled him to his knees. “Wherefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off, and cast them from thee,” He intoned. “It is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into everlasting fire.” He laughed coarsely and kissed the bleeding man on his cold, white lips.
“Leave him,” Lincoln ordered not even pretending he cared about anything but getting to the plane. “We’ve gotta move.” Abruzzi laughed again then letting go of T-bag followed Lincoln out the door.
T-bag remained alone, on his knees in the empty garage. Blood seemed to soak everything. Icy shock was already gripping him. Where Abruzzi had clutched his throat, where his lips had been pressed radiated the only warmth left to him. It felt almost like love.
He picked up his hand. He couldn’t feel it any more, except as an object. It was just a thing now, no longer part of him.
“It’s all right,” T-bag whispered. It wasn’t the first time some part of him had been ripped away. He was still alive. So he would just have to live with it.
Holding the severed hand tight to his chest he rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered out into the night.
********************
T-Bag had left Alabama more out of desperation than any master plan. Fled to Chicago, to the urban North hoping to put as much space as he could between himself and the pile of corpses that stood as a final testament to his frustration, his anger, his fear, and finally his failure to live in the world. Six pretty bodies, three girls three boy thrown carelessly in a heap limbs akimbo. Six streams of lifeblood mingling in a single pool.
It hadn’t done him any good, creating that distance. Chicago had quickly given way to the walls of the Fox River Penitentiary. If he’d known he’d be caught, he would have stayed in Alabama. There was something too harsh, too volatile about the Midwest. The bitter winters, the wild springs with their strong winds, cyclones and sudden storms. It seemed like evidence that God was cruel. As if more evidence was needed.
Since construction on the CO’s breakroom had wrapped up they'd been doing grounds work on PI, working outside. Midway through the shift the sky turned a deep purple gray then almost instantly the sky opened up. T-bag flattened himself against a nearby wall but it offered almost no shelter. He was immediately soaked through by the sheets of rain and all but blinded as well.
The rain was warm enough as it began to fall then almost magically, like a spell that turns everything to crystal the temperature dropped the rain turning to hail, stinging pellets of ice. When he felt a hand on his arm, another laid across his shoulders clasping the back of his neck he did not question or resist but let himself be lead out of the storm into one of the tool sheds.
T-bag blinked the water from his eyes, breathed deeply before he half turned his head (that hand still resting on the back of his neck) to look at the man who had helped him. He had a pretty good idea who it would be but he clung to the faint hope he was wrong. He wasn’t. John Abruzzi equally drenched was standing behind him (conveniently between him and the door) smiling beatifically.
“Hello Theodore,” Abruzzi said. “I’d been hoping for a chance to speak to you alone and the Lord seems to have provided.”
“Really answered your prayers, huh John.” T-bag laughed nervously.
“I hoped we could pick up where we left off so many weeks ago.”
“If you mean with you bleedin’ on the floor I’d be happy to oblige.” T-bag scanned the room for anything that might be used as a weapon. There was a dearth of such objects, highly suspicious considering that it was a tool shed. Abruzzi’s fingers kneaded into his neck.
“You wouldn’t be thinking of violating our truce, would you Theodore?” He asked a harsh not creeping into his voice.
“Of course not. Now I would never do something like that.” T-bag stammered. The fingers eased off.
“Where we left off was with me trying to save your soul. I wasn’t ready then. I was too confused myself. I turned my back on you and the devil stepped into reclaim you. I was weak myself that day but I have grown in the Lord since then and now my house is build on a firm foundation and I am ready to do battle for your soul.”
“Sure sounds like that rain is letting up. We’d better get out there and get back to work before the CO’s coming in here looking for us.” T-bag attempted. Abruzzi let the deafening pounding of hail on the shed roof answer for him.
“I can feel your heart pounding,” Abruzzi said softly, placing his other hand on T-bag’s chest. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you? You don’t need to be afraid, I’m giving you a wondrous gift, the gift of salvation.”
“And it’s not even my Birthday,” T-bag snarled through clenched teeth. “I know what you’re doing John. You wanna kill me but you know that if you do anything before we’re outside these walls pretty little Scofield might just panic and leave you behind plane or no plane. I figure you’re planning on hitting me the minute we’re clear of Fox River. Wait any longer and I just might hit you first. Problem is you’ll be on the run, pressed for time. It’ll have to be quick and where’s the satisfaction in that? You want your satisfaction John. You wanna play with me like a kitty cat with a mouse you go right ahead. I’ll play whatever game you’ve got. You’d be amazed at what I’m willing to do to keep breathing for a few more minutes.”
Abruzzi did not respond, he only ordered, “Get on your knees.” His voice rose to an authoritative roar as he forced T-bag to the ground. “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow, though they be red like crimson, they shall be white as wool. Confess your sins Theodore. If we confess our sins he is faith and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."
“I don’t have anything to confess to your God,” T-bag retorted. “He made the world and I’ve never done anything I didn’t have to do to live in it.”
“Confess.” Abruzzi was kneeling beside him, shouting in his face, shaking him by the shoulders. “All the lives you’ve destroyed, all the people you’ve hurt. Confess.”
“I never hurt anyone who didn’t force my hand.”
“That 16 year old girl you killed, what did she ever do to you.”
“She looked like she was 12.” Abruzzi backhanded him at that. He tried to hit back but the bigger man caught his arms.
“Tell the truth Theodore. Tell the Lord all you have done and you will be forgiven.” Abruzzi hissed in his face. “What did she ever do to you?”
“She was screaming, saying she was gonna tell. First thing you learn, first thing. You don’t scream, you never tell. You shut up, you do what you’re told. She made me kill her. Everyone one of them, they made me do it.”
“You chose. You chose to do evil. I know you Theodore Bagwell, I know all about you. I know what you are. I’ve seen you’re your files…”
“How in hell did you get those?” T-bag shouted. Abruzzi ignored him.
“I know how deep the claws of the devil are in you. I know that since you were a boy you have chosen to walk hand in hand with the devil. I was surprised Theodore, you weren’t always trash were you? There was the misfortune of your natural mother being incurably insane but your Aunt and Uncle took you in to their home.”
“My uncle had reasons for taking me in that had nothing to do with Christian charity.” T-bag was struggling harder, getting more and more angry.
"They were a good family, a respectable family and you destroyed them. You turned their son against them. You got your cousin Jimmy to run away, introduced him to drugs, and dragged him down to your level. He could have had a decent live.”
“He had a decent life until you killed him,” T-bag screamed. “I protected Jimmy. I kept his father away from him for as long as I could then I got him out of that house. My uncle always told me I asked for it, that I came on to him but I never did till I figured out he’d leave Jimmy alone if I made things easy for him.”
He had broken free of Abruzzi and rocked back and forth on his knees gasping out words, nearly hyperventilating, sobbing. “I only did it for Jimmy. I could distract my uncle because I reminded him of her, his sister, my crazy mother. He said I had her pointy witch face and her fine hair, that I talked like her and kissed like her he said we had the same sharp tongue.”
He rocked harder, hunkered over, banging his head against the cement floor. “He told me don’t scream and don’t tell. I never told anyone. They tried to make me tell. When I came to school with two black eyes they said they’d take me somewhere safe but I wouldn’t leave Jimmy. I won’t tell.”
Abruzzi grabbed T-bag, slapping him across the face.
“Come back Theodore,” he demanded, shaking him roughly. “You need to be here for this.” T-bag clutched onto him, finger’s sinking deep in Abruzzi’s solid arms, his face pressed against Abruzzi’s chest. He was trembling, his eyes wild, gasping for breath. Abruzzi laughed and smoothed T-bags crazy crest of hair. “Shhhh,” he whispered almost paternally. “It’s alright.”
As T-bag clutched him desperately tight, Abruzzi unfastened the other man’s pants then his own. Prying T-bag from him he moved behind him.
“It’s all right,” Abruzzi repeated caressing his cheek. T-bag nuzzled, sobbing against the other man’s hand even as it pushed him down to the floor, coming to rest again on the back of his neck.
He almost cried out when Abruzzi entered him choked it back so there was only the faintest wordless growl. Abruzzi fucked T-bag almost tenderly, though when he finished he carelessly shoved aside the other man’s body, still convulsing with sobs. T-bag curled around himself on the floor. Abruzzi zipped his fly and turning came face to face with Westmoreland who looked, frankly horrified his mouth agape under his gray mustache.
“Storm’s blown over,” Westmoreland said.
“How long have you been standing there?” Abruzzi asked pleasantly.
“Long enough to see a helluva lot more then I wanted to but not long enough to figure out if you both are putting each other on, if you’re crazy or both. I think you two better keep away from each other. And me.”