Alex here
Another short Prison Break piece.
Set in the beginning of season 4, and happened to be AU - because I wrote it right after watching the episode. Couple of episodes later I found out that I was wrong, and rewrote the piece.
But I'll leave this one anyway, since I like how it came out.
Lincoln Burrows - to Alexander Mahone
I have never wanted to think of you as a living human being.
Relentless pursueing mechanism, killing machine - fine with me. You've had your reasons, and I've never wanted to know them, much less understand. I've done all I could to keep it that way.
My eyes skipped over you, I never wanted to look at you closely.
You were the machine, very dangerous machine, and I had to stop your functioning one day.
When on the beach you've asked me to put the picture of your son in the plastic bag, I tried hard not to listen. Machines do not have sons. Certainly do not deserve them.
Then came that day. The day when I was told of your loss, and right after that I entered the room and saw you there.
Forlorn figure by the window. You've not even looked up when we entered.
And everything crumbled.
Only a living being could be so drained of life, could look so listless and sound so hollow.
You've certainly deserved death and deserved pain, but it had to be your own. No one else had to feel it. Others paid, and you felt such agony that even I wouldn't want to inflict on you. I know it too well.
We're not even. Now we're beyond scores.
Set in the beginning of season 4, and happened to be AU - because I wrote it right after watching the episode. Couple of episodes later I found out that I was wrong, and rewrote the piece.
But I'll leave this one anyway, since I like how it came out.
Lincoln Burrows - to Alexander Mahone
I have never wanted to think of you as a living human being.
Relentless pursueing mechanism, killing machine - fine with me. You've had your reasons, and I've never wanted to know them, much less understand. I've done all I could to keep it that way.
My eyes skipped over you, I never wanted to look at you closely.
You were the machine, very dangerous machine, and I had to stop your functioning one day.
When on the beach you've asked me to put the picture of your son in the plastic bag, I tried hard not to listen. Machines do not have sons. Certainly do not deserve them.
Then came that day. The day when I was told of your loss, and right after that I entered the room and saw you there.
Forlorn figure by the window. You've not even looked up when we entered.
And everything crumbled.
Only a living being could be so drained of life, could look so listless and sound so hollow.
You've certainly deserved death and deserved pain, but it had to be your own. No one else had to feel it. Others paid, and you felt such agony that even I wouldn't want to inflict on you. I know it too well.
We're not even. Now we're beyond scores.