(no subject)
Title: Qui Je Suis
Author: muldy
Characters: Kellerman, mention of Kellerman/Caroline...and what could maybe be considered Kellerman/Sara but not really ;) *runs and hides*
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to 2x21: Fin Del Camino
Words: 1093
Summary: "But for every wrong Caroline Reynolds had done, he had committed another in her name, making him no less innocent than she."
A/N: Thanks to bella_blu for the beta.
“Undo them. Paul…there’s always a way.“
~*~
Undo them? Nothing he could do would ever make up for what he’d done in his life. Looking back he wondered how he’d turned into the monster he had become. The killing. The betrayal.
Deep inside he knew why.
Caroline Reynolds.
He’d been in love, in love with a woman who had wanted nothing more from him than to have him in her control. To use him to do her dirty work, and then discard him like some used piece of tissue when she no longer needed him. He wished he had understood what she was doing as she had been doing it, but he realised now that she was too careful for that to have happened.
A part of him wondered if maybe some of it had been real, that just a few of those touches, those looks, had been real. He doubted it. The woman would do anything for power, he had learned that lesson now. The woman had no boundaries. She had slept with her brother.
Just the thought of that made him sick inside.
But for every wrong Caroline Reynolds had done, he had committed another in her name, making him no less innocent than she.
He stood in front of the window, looking out at the world below him. His sister had made him open the curtains before she had left, told him to look out and enjoy the world. He couldn’t enjoy it. All he saw was the death and destruction he alone had caused.
As he closed his eyes all he could see was the faces of the people he’d hurt, tortured, killed. And all without a second thought as to whether or not he was doing the right thing. He really hated himself, again he wanted to end his life, to end this all. He wanted to be a good person, and if he couldn’t be that he didn’t want to be anyone.
He wasn’t anyone anyway. They had made sure of that. The Company.
They had erased anything that he could have called a part of his life.
Except his sister. He had her. And he wished he didn’t, she deserved better than that. She was a good person, he wished he could be like her. He remembered being twenty, sent on his first overseas mission with the army. He’d thought he was a good person then. A good officer. Then he remembered how he’d felt when he killed for the first time.
He’d hated himself for months, and then he’d done it again. And again. Soon it had become as simple a task as checking an email or buying a coffee. He remembered the first one, a woman. She had attempted to attack them with a knife from behind while they were on a top-secret mission to extract someone from her village in northern China.
He’d turned around and shot blindly.
It hadn’t been on purpose, but everything had to start somewhere. He’d watched as her terrified expression had frozen and she’d dropped to the ground. The others had run to her and tried to save her, but he had just stood there, unable to do anything.
He’d been given his first award after that mission, but all he had thought about during the ceremony was that he had accidentally killed a woman.
All he remembered after that was a string of murders, both in the army and once he was out of it. Each killing got more ruthless, more heartless, and more blurry. Only one person stood out in his memory.
Sara Tancredi.
He hadn’t wanted to torture her, having decided he got on with her quite well when she had thought he was her friend, but it had been his job. He had done his duty. Yet she had won. She had escaped and attacked him with an iron. For that, he greatly admired her. A part of him wondered if it was her who had made him realise how everything he’d done was so wrong.
She was the only person he had tried to kill and failed at doing so. She had been able to look him in the eye and make him feel guilty for his actions. She had tried to kill him, and then a day later she had locked him out of a car, not caring.
That was when he had realised how much he envied them, wanted to be a part of their fugitive group. Scofield, Burrows and Tancredi. He had wanted to add ‘Kellerman’ to that list. He hadn’t realised how much their company had meant to him until he’d seen it taken away by the simple movement of Sara’s hand.
Being around the three of them, seeing how they fought to survive against all odds, it inspired him. He’d always been with the people who controlled everything, yet he’d spent the better part of a week with these people who were fighting that exact thing and it had shown him how things looked from the other side of the fence.
There had been something exhilarating about being on the run, about using his skills to save lives instead of destroy them.
He opened his eyes, staring out the window, his eyes slowly focusing on the court house across the road. She wasn’t there, but he knew she was somewhere in the city, at one of the court houses.
If he wanted his life to end, he might as well go out having done something good, letting someone else pull the trigger for once. Pull it on him. Because he knew they would if he did this.
She wouldn’t want him there, he was pretty sure she hated him more than anyone else on the planet. But he admired her, and he supposed a part of him longed to be ‘Lance’, someone who had only existed around Sara Tancredi.
The best way for him to be that part of him was for to go out doing something good.
He turned around and grabbed his nicest suit out of the cupboard, exchanging his army uniform for it, then walked over to the mirror and looked in it.
He could pretend he was Lance if he was dressed like this. Maybe Sara would hate him less if he could be that other man. A part of her might even forgive him, he knew he would die happier knowing that she had.
Then maybe for the first time since he was twenty he could just be himself. He could be Paul Kellerman the person, not the Army Ranger, not the agent.
Just Paul.
Author: muldy
Characters: Kellerman, mention of Kellerman/Caroline...and what could maybe be considered Kellerman/Sara but not really ;) *runs and hides*
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to 2x21: Fin Del Camino
Words: 1093
Summary: "But for every wrong Caroline Reynolds had done, he had committed another in her name, making him no less innocent than she."
A/N: Thanks to bella_blu for the beta.
“Undo them. Paul…there’s always a way.“
~*~
Undo them? Nothing he could do would ever make up for what he’d done in his life. Looking back he wondered how he’d turned into the monster he had become. The killing. The betrayal.
Deep inside he knew why.
Caroline Reynolds.
He’d been in love, in love with a woman who had wanted nothing more from him than to have him in her control. To use him to do her dirty work, and then discard him like some used piece of tissue when she no longer needed him. He wished he had understood what she was doing as she had been doing it, but he realised now that she was too careful for that to have happened.
A part of him wondered if maybe some of it had been real, that just a few of those touches, those looks, had been real. He doubted it. The woman would do anything for power, he had learned that lesson now. The woman had no boundaries. She had slept with her brother.
Just the thought of that made him sick inside.
But for every wrong Caroline Reynolds had done, he had committed another in her name, making him no less innocent than she.
He stood in front of the window, looking out at the world below him. His sister had made him open the curtains before she had left, told him to look out and enjoy the world. He couldn’t enjoy it. All he saw was the death and destruction he alone had caused.
As he closed his eyes all he could see was the faces of the people he’d hurt, tortured, killed. And all without a second thought as to whether or not he was doing the right thing. He really hated himself, again he wanted to end his life, to end this all. He wanted to be a good person, and if he couldn’t be that he didn’t want to be anyone.
He wasn’t anyone anyway. They had made sure of that. The Company.
They had erased anything that he could have called a part of his life.
Except his sister. He had her. And he wished he didn’t, she deserved better than that. She was a good person, he wished he could be like her. He remembered being twenty, sent on his first overseas mission with the army. He’d thought he was a good person then. A good officer. Then he remembered how he’d felt when he killed for the first time.
He’d hated himself for months, and then he’d done it again. And again. Soon it had become as simple a task as checking an email or buying a coffee. He remembered the first one, a woman. She had attempted to attack them with a knife from behind while they were on a top-secret mission to extract someone from her village in northern China.
He’d turned around and shot blindly.
It hadn’t been on purpose, but everything had to start somewhere. He’d watched as her terrified expression had frozen and she’d dropped to the ground. The others had run to her and tried to save her, but he had just stood there, unable to do anything.
He’d been given his first award after that mission, but all he had thought about during the ceremony was that he had accidentally killed a woman.
All he remembered after that was a string of murders, both in the army and once he was out of it. Each killing got more ruthless, more heartless, and more blurry. Only one person stood out in his memory.
Sara Tancredi.
He hadn’t wanted to torture her, having decided he got on with her quite well when she had thought he was her friend, but it had been his job. He had done his duty. Yet she had won. She had escaped and attacked him with an iron. For that, he greatly admired her. A part of him wondered if it was her who had made him realise how everything he’d done was so wrong.
She was the only person he had tried to kill and failed at doing so. She had been able to look him in the eye and make him feel guilty for his actions. She had tried to kill him, and then a day later she had locked him out of a car, not caring.
That was when he had realised how much he envied them, wanted to be a part of their fugitive group. Scofield, Burrows and Tancredi. He had wanted to add ‘Kellerman’ to that list. He hadn’t realised how much their company had meant to him until he’d seen it taken away by the simple movement of Sara’s hand.
Being around the three of them, seeing how they fought to survive against all odds, it inspired him. He’d always been with the people who controlled everything, yet he’d spent the better part of a week with these people who were fighting that exact thing and it had shown him how things looked from the other side of the fence.
There had been something exhilarating about being on the run, about using his skills to save lives instead of destroy them.
He opened his eyes, staring out the window, his eyes slowly focusing on the court house across the road. She wasn’t there, but he knew she was somewhere in the city, at one of the court houses.
If he wanted his life to end, he might as well go out having done something good, letting someone else pull the trigger for once. Pull it on him. Because he knew they would if he did this.
She wouldn’t want him there, he was pretty sure she hated him more than anyone else on the planet. But he admired her, and he supposed a part of him longed to be ‘Lance’, someone who had only existed around Sara Tancredi.
The best way for him to be that part of him was for to go out doing something good.
He turned around and grabbed his nicest suit out of the cupboard, exchanging his army uniform for it, then walked over to the mirror and looked in it.
He could pretend he was Lance if he was dressed like this. Maybe Sara would hate him less if he could be that other man. A part of her might even forgive him, he knew he would die happier knowing that she had.
Then maybe for the first time since he was twenty he could just be himself. He could be Paul Kellerman the person, not the Army Ranger, not the agent.
Just Paul.