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Michael Scofield [userpic]

[IF] November: D - Biggest Mistake

November 28th, 2006 (05:37 pm)
anxious

current mood: anxious

He’d gone over the file probably a hundred times before exhaustion had finally bludgeoned him into sleep, and still he couldn’t find anything more than what he already knew. It was etched across every piece of paper, embedded in every sheet.

Rachel Gibson had high-reaching security clearance, that or she faked it real well. She was organized, but not fastidious, and she drank a lot of coffee as the single drop of a coffee stain he’d located on one page’s corner indicated.

She’d also given them valuable information...and given them back LJ when Kate went for him. Government agent could have put up a fight...Gibson hadn’t.

It was either the biggest mistake of his life or his only real shot at actually making some headway...but around five thirty that morning, he finally woke from a semi-restless sleep and stuck a quick note under Lincoln’s door before heading out to the local library.

He waited outside for them to open, then made a beeline for the internet stations...it didn’t take much work for him to trace the IP number he’d memorized off some of those reports and do a little hunting to locate her email address...after some of the research he’d done to get the escape plan together, tricks like that had gotten to be old hat.

The library computer was anonymous enough and it didn’t take long to register a phony email account online and type up a quick message.

IF YOU’VE GOT A VESTED INTEREST IN LEARNING THE TRUTH ABOUT LINCOLN BURROWS, STOP LOOKING INTO TERRANCE STEADMAN’S MURDER. IT’S A SINKHOLE.

YOU CAN’T INVESTIGATE SOMETHING THAT NEVER HAPPENED.

START WITH BLACKFOOT, MONTANA AND GET BACK TO ME...BUT WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T GO OUT THERE ALONE.

AND STAY OUT OF STRANGE HOUSES.


For several long moments, Michael simply sat staring at the email. All he had were documents...and his nephew. It was all he had to trust...but was it enough?

In their position...did he really have any choice?

His hand moved seemingly of its own accord...the button clicked on send.

If she was for real...she could pick up where Veronica left off, so long as she heeded his warning.

And if she wasn’t...

...well, it wasn’t like the target on their backs could get any bigger.

Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: PRISON BREAK
Words: 387

Michael Scofield [userpic]

[IF RP] And I'm so very guilty for no reason or rhyme...

October 29th, 2006 (04:16 am)
curious

current mood: curious

"Okay, you've got to be cheating." Kate laughed as LJ laid down his hand, beating her at cards for the third time in a row. "That, or I forgot just how badly I suck at gin."

Michael watched from the opposite side of the room as LJ smiled at Kate's crack. She was wearing one of Lincoln's shirts now, having taken advantage of their hotel room's shower, and he noted the way she kept burrowing into it...drawing her arms into the sleeves, hunching her shoulders to feel the material slide over her skin. He'd even noticed her smelling it at one point...and he didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know why she'd asked for the change of clothes when her own bag was sitting right in the corner.

Making a mental note, Michael turned his attention back to the file spread out on the table, paging through it while Lincoln sat in a nearby chair, where he knew he was watching her play cards with his son...in his shirt.

"This whole thing is incredible." he finally sighed, lifting another page from the folder. "The information this woman's compiled...Linc, she's got about as many answers as we do, but there's things in here we didn't have before, stuff she got to with...a government level of clearance I've never even seen." Glancing up, he saw Lincoln still distracted and thumped the table with his index finger. Fortunately, he was, in fact, listening, as he immediately turned to face Michael.

Handing Lincoln the page, he leaned over and pointed to a name. "According to these documents, a top audio-visual specialist was hired by a subsidiary of Steadman's company. Steadman dealt in alternative energy...why would he need an A/V expert?" Michael paused, holding Lincoln's gaze pointedly. "And what's more...if you were going to fake someone's death, and needed help in doing it...how would you go about covering your own tracks? Simple: cut through the dead man's garden...the one place no one would think to look."

Michael Scofield [userpic]

[IF] October - C: If you could change anything in your life, what would it be?

October 10th, 2006 (04:50 pm)
cynical

current mood: cynical

If I could change anything...I would have picked up the phone.

I wouldn’t have waited for the voicemails...I would have answered when my brother called me. I would have reached out...talked to him rather than just think about him, wondering where he was at or what he was doing...how he was screwing up. I would have taken him up on those lunch dates...bought him a round or two, maybe even just dropped by his place to see if he was all right.

I would have been a better older brother to my older brother...as good, as *great* as he’d been for me. I would have followed his example...I would have been less blind, less self-centered. I would have let his problems matter to me more.

I would have done very little differently, but it would have been so much...because if I had been a better brother, older or not, then the day Linc called me for help in that garage, I would have answered the damn phone. If I had...if I’d just talked to him...neither one of us would have ever seen the inside of a cell at Fox River.

If I could change just one single thing...anything at all...I would have picked up that phone when I saw Linc’s name on the caller ID.

If I could go back....I would change history just by answering the phone.

Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break
Words: 241

Michael Scofield [userpic]

[EM] 17 - Are you impulsive?

October 9th, 2006 (07:25 pm)
current mood: busy

You know, you see a lot of differences in brothers...the good son, the prodigal son, the success and the failure...the dark and the light. Even twins are usually at odds...same package, different stuff in the wrapping.

Linc and me...we’ve never been at odds. Instead of facing off, we’ve always been back to back...a pair, opposite sides of the same coin. Whatever I lack, he provides, and vice versa. Maybe it comes from him raising me, maybe it’s because we’re blood...but even when we didn’t get along, we’ve always been a unit. I needed him, and he needed me.

The same holds true with our basic natures...impulse is Linc’s department. He’s all about thinking viscerally...if a situation calls for a knee-jerk, gut shot reaction, he’s usually the one that has it. I’m not that guy, never have been...I’m the man with a plan, like Linc sometimes calls me. I’m detail oriented, I can’t help it. Having a grip on things, even the most hellacious situation...it’s the only way I can deal with it, otherwise I’m freaking out over every single tiny little thing because that’s all I see...every single tiny little thing.

I think where Linc doesn’t. He acts where I hesitate. Separately? Sooner or later one of us will go down, but together? All our lives, since we were kids, there hasn’t been a single time when the two of us together couldn’t take something...or someone.

But apart? That’s one of the disadvantages of having such a perfect match...when you separate a set, it never works quite as well as the original pair.

Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break
Words: 275

Michael Scofield [userpic]

[EM] 14 - Second Chances

September 27th, 2006 (10:22 am)
drained

current mood: drained

I absolutely believe in second chances...I have to. With the mistakes that I’ve made and the things I’ve done...

On second thought, maybe I don’t believe in second chances so much as I want them to be real...*need* them to be real.

The bottom line is that I screwed up...I was a miserable son of a bitch and I know it. I *could* have saved my brother from all of this, and now? Now I’m just trying to rectify my own mistakes. When this is all over, if anything happens to Lincoln...that’s on me. I don’t care what anybody else says...in the *years* before Terrence Steadman, if I’d ever once just talked to Linc, really talked to him? I might have known the truth...figured it out.

It’s one of the things I hate about myself. I have this...thing in my head that I can’t shut off, this *disease* that eats at me every day. I turned it into an advantage at work, but everywhere else...it just wears on me, this inability to shut my own brain off for a while.

There is nothing that I don’t see. When I make mistakes? They are real, tangible, actual mistakes...I know I’m human. If I get distracted, I might get the figures wrong on a measurement for a schematic. If I’m rushing through something, I may write down something I never meant to. But I don’t just *miss* things...not without a reason. Distract me, rush me, break my fingers so I can’t write through the pain or shoot me so I can’t see through the blood, but I will see anything and everything you put in front of me. I can’t help it, I’m sick.

But I never saw what Linc did...he fooled me. Maybe I was blind, maybe I just trusted him too much. But I should have let that trust carry me through.

I gave up on my brother. And now half a dozen government agencies want him dead.

I need a second chance to make this right. So I have to believe I can get it.

Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break
Words: 356

Michael Scofield [userpic]

[EM] 13 - Regret

September 12th, 2006 (10:13 am)
current mood: awake

Honestly? In a lot of ways, I do regret my life up to the present. I mean...I haven’t done badly for myself. Before all this I had a good job...good education, a good place in the world. I had friends, and I had goals...true, I’d had a hard life, but no real regrets.

But after the last three years, I’ve learned to regret a lot.

When I look back on my life and at the way I treated Lincoln...the way I all but spat on him at every turn with all the mistakes he made...mistakes he made because of the fact that he took care of me, that he cared about me...

I’ve never stopped wondering if I could have changed it all.

If I’d been a little more open with him, regardless of what he was into...could I have saved my brother? If I had taken more of his calls, if I’d taken that message the night he walked into that parking garage...could I have altered the course of the last three years?

Do I regret the course of my life? On average, no, not really. But if I could change about the last five to ten years of it, I would...I would be a better brother to Lincoln. I’d be less self-involved and arrogant. I’d hold on tighter to the only blood I’ve got left rather than let him slip through my fingers just because he’s made a few mistakes.

With a few exceptions. If I could change nothing...if things played out the same way? I’d do a couple of things a little bit differently...but the worst of what I’ve done? Getting myself arrested, breaking Lincoln out...and breaking out the rest of our group?

I wouldn’t change any of it...because sometimes you have to do bad things for good reasons.

Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break
Words: 313

Michael Scofield [userpic]

[EM] 11 - Theme Song

September 7th, 2006 (04:15 pm)
current mood: determined

Michael stood, trying to fight back his growing frustration. “So... same time tomorrow?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lincoln looked like he wanted to shake his head, but didn’t. “They're.. um.. transferring me to a prison, where I'll wait until they execute me.”

Michael glanced up at that, jarred by hearing the words, realizing that this was it...the die was cast and he was losing the battle. He could almost see Lincoln slipping further and further away as time went on.

“Can I still visit?” he asked, trying not to sound as frightened and young as he suddenly felt, not having much success as he reached for the crane still sitting on the counter, taking back the mantle he’d accepted...his brother’s life, careworn and beautifully made, his to protect.

“Yeah,” Lincoln replied with a small, almost imperceptible shrug, “not that far...a place called Fox River.”

Michael’s eyes lit up...he could *feel* his brain firing, the memory lifting, the plans unfurling, murky and poorly recalled in his mind. “Fox River?”

“Yeah... why?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing.”


* * *


In his car, Michael went over the confrontation in his mind, the same words ringing out over and over.

Fox River...Fox River...Fox River Fox River Fox River Fox River...

He’d worked on the project himself...not a big part, but he’d helped draft the retrofit on the prison infirmary and his mind closed in on that. It was a plan even he couldn’t crack...couldn’t quite patch every hole, so he did the best he could.

But even his best had holes...and he knew every last one of them.

He knew...he had the plans. The blueprints were at the office...a little reading, a little collecting...

Michael rubbed a hand over his features, fighting the thoughts swimming in his head. The structural integrity of the infirmary bars...and access, there were sewage drains and pipelines running below the infirmary, located in storage rooms throughout the prison...and the abandoned steam pipes running below...

He cut off his own train of thought, rubbing his eyes as if that would blot out the details filtering through every pore, every synapse, entering him through every breath and circulating out through each exhalation.

The city was on a budget that cut down on demolition. He didn’t have enough time.

He could get the hardware specs on the cells. It was too risky.

There’d been a news story on an arrest a little while back...some mob boss that got sent up. He was plotting a *prison break*, it was insane!!

He would have to get arrested.

Someone could get hurt.

Michael finally had to pull over to the side of the road, putting the car in park and folding his arms across the steering wheel, resting his forehead atop them as he gave himself over to the stream of information threatening to drive him mad. He let it run through his head, kept his heart from racing like mad, Lincoln was being moved to Fox River to wait for the execution, the fucking execution...

Right or wrong...good or evil.

It was completely insane.

But it wasn’t impossible.

Straightening, Michael took a deep breath, jaw clenching in apprehension as he put the car in gear and pulled out on to the road again, hanging a left to get on the road that would take him to the office rather than take him home.

New World Man by RUSHCollapse )

Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break
Words: 580

Michael Scofield [userpic]

[EM]: 10 - Triumph

August 24th, 2006 (01:51 pm)
rejuvenated

current mood: rejuvenated

“Michael...if this doesn’t work out, I just want you to know...”

He saw his greatest triumph, looking into his big brother’s eyes in the dead of night, the sound of dogs and men seeming to ring in his ears though he knew, intellectually, that they were a ways off yet. Looking into Lincoln’s eyes, he saw all parts of him, the way he saw all parts of everything, couldn’t help but mentally strip the world bare to his sight.

He saw the older brother, the father, the idealist...the man. Not a prisoner, not an inmate...not Linc the Sink.

He’d set Lincoln free...just like he promised.

Lincoln had always been level-headed and responsible, but of the two of them it was Michael who had been the pragmatist. Lincoln was an idealist...not a dreamer, but a man who believed in things like hope and faith to such a degree that he made them practical reality through sheer force of will. He kept them a family after Mom had died, he’d cared for Michael practically on his own since he was fourteen.

Even the money...the goddamned ninety grand...Linc borrowed it and gave it to Michael on a wing and a prayer, giving everything to someone he loved without thinking of what he might be doing to himself.

Lincoln was a hero...and heroes were never practical. They charged into danger to save the day with no thought of falling from grace so long as they did what they had to do.

Then suddenly the world turned inside out and all Michael had was the ideals he’d learned from Lincoln. He watched his brother wither in lockup, hope slipping away as he fed Michael the reasonable, rational answers: give up. Move on. Stop fighting.

He couldn’t quit. He couldn’t stop. He had to save the day.

Every flaw in Michael’s plan had come from the pitfall of all heroes...faith in people. But just like Lincoln borrowed that money even though he knew it would be hard, if not impossible to pay back, Michael’s logic was equally reasonable and equally flawed. He believed he could put faith in people...not to be trusted, but to be predictable.

But people weren’t chess pieces...and so his gameboard kept getting knocked over.

Now it was over...one story over, a new story beginning. They were out...and now they would stay that way.

And Lincoln believed that they could. He believed that Michael could save him.

And no victory could ever be sweeter than winning back his brother...the hero.

Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break
Words: 433

Michael Scofield [userpic]

[EM]: Topic 8 - One Person You Can't Live Without

August 9th, 2006 (09:51 am)
current mood: determined

I think it’s pretty much a fact in our world that no one can live without anyone. We all need connections...we need people to further our goals and get us through this life. We need allies, we need friends...sometimes, God forbid, we might even need enemies.

I could go down the list of people I couldn’t live without, but I’d be here all day. In my personal life, my reality...my past, present, and future, however, there’s really only one person that I’d be lost without, and that’s my brother.

There are obvious reasons why Lincoln’s responsible for me even standing here. He raised me...kept me off the street, gave me a life most kids coming from my circumstances only dream about. He helped me become the man I am. He loved me, and I love him...more than anyone that’s ever come through my life, maybe with the exception of my mother.

But it runs still deeper than that. Dad was gone by the time I was born...Mom was dead by the time I was eleven. All I’ve ever had, all I’ve ever known is a life where I had a brother I could turn to. That changed for a few years when we both got older and Lincoln started getting into trouble...but all that was simply roles reversing, him turning to me. I just didn’t know why...or how wrong I was to take it all for granted.

No man is an island unto himself...and no man can suffer a greater punishment than to live out the rest of his days as the last man on earth...the only one of his kind, the last of his blood still walking above ground. There’s no fate worse than watching your entire family die before your eyes...unless you’re watching them die in the name of justice for absolutely *no* good reason.

Or maybe there is a fate worse than that...the fate of the innocent man condemned to die, to leave behind everything he cares about. Facing execution for a crime he didn’t commit, condemned to sit idle while his son rots in jail by no true fault of his own.

I can’t live with myself if my brother has to go through that another second...and I can’t live if they win, if Lincoln dies.

I can’t face the rest of my life alone.

Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break
Words: 401

Michael Scofield [userpic]

elite_muses RP Prompt: Rumors

August 4th, 2006 (03:05 pm)
curious

current mood: curious

"I'm tellin' you, Fish...dat's what I been hearin'. Pope's out, Bellick's in...he's gonna make the announcement in a couple days, then all our asses is grass, comprendes?"

Michael shook his head, glancing around as his jaw tightened and relaxed rapidly, teeth clicking dully in his own head with the nervous action. With Bellick in place, this escape wasn't going anywhere...hell, if Bellick had his way Lincoln would die days earlier.

"It's a stupid rumor...I wouldn't pay it much heed." Michael finally replied to Sucre as they strolled across the yard.

"You do what you want, but I'm seriously stressin' over here. You know Latinos got higher blood pressure than you white boys, right?"

Michael had to resist rolling his eyes at that, marveling not for the first time at how Sucre managed to put things in such blunt perspective and still make them palatable. The truth was, the rumor mill in a place like this could be frighteningly accurate...mainly because men in prison don't have much else to do but serve time and watch their own backs. Often, that meant watching the bulls and up...a power play like this could make or break some men.

Including Lincoln Burrows.

Salvation came out of the corner of his eye as he spotted a slim, red-haired form emerging from a building near the fence. The sudden spur of energy that came courtesy of a small rush of adrenaline he tried to ignore...excitement wasn't going to get him anywhere, and Sara Tancredi wasn't supposed to do that to him. He was supposed to do that to her instead.

Catching Sucre's eye, Michael nodded to him and broke away from his cellie, heading towards the fence with his hands in his pockets, doing his best to look friendly and unassuming as he called out to her. "Dr. Tancredi!"