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25 July 2015 @ 08:41 pm
Prison Break - Story of Faith (3/27)  
Title: Story of Faith (3/27) - Story index
Author: clair_de_lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael, Sara, Lincoln, Paul Kellerman, Sofia Lugo, Jane Phillips, Michael Jr., LJ Burrows, Original characters
Pairings: Michael/Sara, Lincoln/Sofia (background)
Categories: Gen, romance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 3.000 (this chapter), ~ 60.500 (total)
Author’s notes: This is canon compliant and a fix-it story. In other words, I tried to take into account most of the canon, including The Final Break, and give it a different ending. See chapter one for thanks and beta-readers.

Summary: He had thought that death was black. Dark, at the very least. It was dark at first, after the fireworks he’d created had subsided and their imprints on his retinas had faded. After that, though, there were colors.
After Miami Dade, while Sara, Lincoln and Sofia settle in Costa Rica and try to build a new life, Michael awakes far away from them... (Post-series, canon compliant, fix-it story)

Starting with this chapter, there are a few very not-subtle references to another TV show in the story. This is not meant in any way to be a crossover, and it will stay at the stage of very not-subtle references. Initially, it was an in-joke with myself about Mrs. Jamison’s name and I extended the silliness to a few other things.
If you know and like said other TV show, do not expect characters development, actual crossover, fusion or anything. If you don’t know said other TV show... don’t fear actual crossover, fusion or anything of this sort ;)

Chapter 3

Michael woke up to the smiling face of Paul Kellerman.

He shut his eyes.

(Maybe he’d never woken up in the first place. Maybe this was an elaborate trick and he was in Hell. Being in Hell was the only thing that would have explained Paul Kellerman’s presence at his bedside.)

“Come on, Michael,” Kellerman said. “You know I’m one of the good guys, now.”


Yoki’s voice was firm and unrelenting, sobering. He opened his eyes again and inwardly winced at the influence she had over him. He hadn’t seen that one coming, the influence.

“You said you wanted to talk to the people who would answer the questions Dr. Evergreen can’t answer.” Kellerman opened his hands, palms turned upward. “Here I am.”

Michael hadn’t thought about who — the physical people — was behind the whole thing. It hit him. He’d wondered, of course, but lost in his worries and hopes about Sara and Lincoln, bogged down in his brain exercises, mandatory naps and physical rehabilitation, he hadn’t reflected about who was running the show. He wouldn’t have been surprised to wake up to the smiling face of Paul Kellerman if he had.

He glanced at Yoki. She didn’t move, but she nodded at a nurse who stepped in to pass him clothes; real clothes, no sweats. He thought it spoke volumes about her relationship with Kellerman that she didn’t assume a lesser task she would usually have assumed without even thinking about it.

“I’ll wait for you up there, Michael,” Kellerman said, index finger vaguely pointing at the upper floors.

He put on more formal clothes for the first time in months; dark pants and a blue shirt a bit loose but a reasonable fit and made of the same kind of expensive fabric he used to wear. It was unsettling. It made him feel as though he was back to the beginning of the story.

He was marched — “escorted,” they said — by two guards in black suits. He limped. It was due to his missing toes but also to the tumor, the surgery, the shock he went through at Miami Dade. He was in bad shape and had a hunch he wouldn’t fully recover. He didn't care that much. Sara and Lincoln were alive, the baby would be fine, he was alive even though far from his family. That was more than he could and should have hoped for.

The guards politely matched their pace to his. Usually, there was no need for whoever worked here to wait for him: the therapists or the doctors sat him in a wheelchair and rolled him to any room he needed to be lead to. The rest of the time, he stayed in his bedroom or office. It was okay. The circumstances being what they were, wherever they were leading him, he’d rather go there walking on his own. On his feet to face the answers.

They went down long hallways with marble floors where he’d never been before, and then into an elevator. Its doors opened several floors higher, right in front of a large office. Big place, old construction but up-to-date installations, baroquely modern.

It wasn’t Kellerman who was waiting for him behind an imposing desk, but a woman in her late forties, black hair and piercing blue eyes, her pant suit almost molded on her; cold and collected. A poster image for any kind of organization working with Kellerman. She was surrounded by the acrid smoke of a cigarette that she crushed in an ashtray the second Michael passed through the door.

“I thought you’d quit like a millennium ago?” Kellerman pointed out from his seat on the other side of the desk.

She didn’t bother with an answer.

“I’m Mrs. Jamison, Mr. Scofield. Please have a seat.”

“This is Mrs. Jamison, Michael,” Kellerman mimicked. “She works for us... with us — sorry, Mrs. Jamison — to bring down The Company.”

It sounded so obvious in Kellerman’s mouth.

(Last time Michael had heard of it, The Company was already in the ground, and yet, he was only half-surprised to be told that the monster was still alive.)

* * *

They waited to let him absorb the news, to study his reaction or maybe just for emphasis and dramatic effect. Go figure.

“Do you know what a hydra is, Michael?” Kellerman eventually asked him.

Michael didn’t grace him with an answer that Kellerman didn’t expect anyway. The question was rhetorical. Naturally Michael knew what a hydra was. Kellerman knew he did, Mrs. Jamison too.

“The Company is a hydra. If you cut one of its secondary heads, two other ones will grow. And of course, one way or another, the main head won’t die.”

You could trust Greek mythology to come up with desperate-sounding stories.

“Please tell me this place isn’t named Sisyphus,” Michael replied dryly. “Because if it is, you’re doubly screwed.”

Kellerman rolled his eyes. Jamison smirked — she had a smile like a shark’s but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant — and volunteered, “This place is The Foundation.”

Right. Foundation. Company. Shady organizations with shady goals, shady people, and capital letters in their names.

“Mr. Kellerman here has asked us to take care of you.”

“You did a great job. Thank you. Now that I’m feeling better, I assume I’m free to go?”

His tone was laden with sarcasm. It appeared that sarcasm had as little effect on Mrs. Jamison as it had had on Yoki the couple of times he tried it. She reclined in her seat and crossed her hands on her spotless desk.

“As a matter of fact — and I speak under the control of Mr. Kellerman — you are.”

* * *

He wasn’t going to lie: his gut instinct was to get up, limp out of here and not stop until he reached Costa Rica, Sara, their yet-to-be-born baby and Lincoln.

It was precisely the evocation of Sara, the baby and Lincoln that strapped him into his chair more securely than any kind of bonds could have. Yoki had said they wouldn’t hurt anyone he cared about.

But of course...

“Of course, if you do, Sara and Lincoln will be in danger,” Kellerman said. “The baby, LJ, Sofia... For now, The Company is laying low because they’re licking their wounds, trying to regroup, all that jazz. But if they find out you’re alive, they’re not going to take it kindly, Michael. They’re going to want things from you. You remember how enamored they were with your brain? The lengths they were ready to go to assure your cooperation? What they did to Sara?”

Michael didn’t move, hardly breathed, face ashen and hands sweaty. He’d realized all what Kellerman was explaining even before Kellerman started to talk, but hearing it made the risk real, almost palpable. It twisted his guts, cut his breath, messed with what was left of his brain...

He leaned forward and laid a moist palm on the dark wood of the desk, where it left a clear imprint. He could feel Jamison’s eyes on his hand; they were oddly compassionate.

“Sara and Lincoln will have to—” Kellerman started again.

“He got it.”

His salvation came from Mrs. Jamison who broke the buzz of Kellerman’s threats, her voice husky and definitive. Kellerman nodded as though to concede his defeat.

Michael breathed in and smelled her perfume mixed with the odor of leather, cigarette smoke and, fainter, Kellerman’s aftershave.

For a split second, he felt as if he was going to be sick. Kellerman slid a glass in his direction, leaving a trail of fresh water on the mahogany desk.

“So here is the deal. You stay here. You work with the lovely Mrs. Jamison and her do-gooder Foundation to help us kill the hydra. We have you to help us. What’s even better for us, for you, for Sara and Lincoln, you’re not wandering around so The Company doesn’t even know you’re alive and can’t have you to help them. Huge win-win. In return, I make sure that Lincoln, Sara and the little Scofield-Tancredi live happily and safely... Well, happily I can’t guarantee, but safely at least.”

“When can I speak to my wife and my brother?”

Kellerman shook his head, grunted with derision, discarded a perfectly valid instinct by making it sound dumb and reckless.

“You don’t speak to them. They can’t know you’re alive, for this plan and for their own safety. As you can imagine, their safety is not my main concern, but I know we won’t get anything from you if something happens to them, so yeah, let’s pretend I care about them.”

Michael blinked. He was tired and the room spun around him. He held onto the edge of his chair but couldn’t help drifting out of the conversation. He had worked on two yellow files, earlier today, and then this. His much needed nap interrupted, Kellerman, the walk, the office, Mrs. Jamison — he couldn’t tell whether she was friend or foe — the explanation, the hundreds of questions he still has, the...

“You think about it, Mr. Scofield, and we’ll discuss it again tomorrow morning,” Jamison said. Kellerman dropped his mask of bonhomie and looked daggers at her, not happy with her intervention. She didn’t bat an eyelid. “He needs to rest, now. Don’t overwork my assets, Mr. Kellerman, I know what I’m doing.”

* * *

He couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling through the dark of the night, and made a mental list of cons and pros.

The cons part counted too many items to keep track of all of them in his current state.

The pros list was shorter, but its main bullet point was ‘Sara, Lincoln and the baby alive and safe’.

Pretending he was dead to keep his family safe. The kind of ploy that ran in the family, it seemed. Never before had he understood so well — felt deep within his bones and loins — why his own father had taken a similar road decades ago.

He didn’t question what Kellerman had told him about The Company or the nature of The Foundation. A few months ago, he would have, but not anymore, not after everything he’d seen. Not after Kellerman actually helped them.

He closed his eyes against the darkness, against the tears prickling his eyelids. Hardest and easiest decision ever all at once. At dawn, when he met again with Kellerman and Jamison, he would have more questions to ask, conditions to lay out, but he knew his answer already.

He suspected Kellerman knew it the second Michael had woken up in this room.

* * *

“I want Sara’s name cleared,” were the first words getting out of Michael’s mouth when he met with Kellerman on the next morning.

Mrs. Jamison wasn’t attending their meeting. Michael wondered if it was because it wasn’t necessary or because she grated on Kellerman’s nerves, and vice-versa.

Kellerman’s lips twisted, his head tipped to the side, faking regret. Pretending to fake regret, in a too ostentatious manner, almost as if concealing his real feelings about the demand. Michael stared at the man in front of him and pushed the idea away. He was reading too much in Kellerman’s game.

“Can’t do. After the legal delay and if you succeed in your assignment, I’ll try to get her a Presidential Pardon. That’s all I can do. That’s way more than anyone would be willing and able to do, and you know it.”

Michael considered the offer. A Presidential Pardon would mean Sara was no longer a fugitive. She would have to live with the label of criminal sticking to her, she would never work as a doctor anymore, but at least she would have the possibility to move and travel freely wherever she would want to.

“If I succeed in my assignment, you will get her a Presidential Pardon, legal delay or not.”

Kellerman rolled his eyes in annoyance and nodded his agreement. A roll of eyes and a nod of the head: that was how much a woman’s future weighed in his balance and in his scheme.

“That’s the least you can do,” Michael whispered angrily. “Sending us a useless lawyer: that’s all you did when Sara got arrested.”

The other man reclined in his chair, in a way indicating he was actually getting prepared to pounce on a prey.

“Michael, no matter how much you think I do, I do not owe to you to step in each time a member of your little gang gets into trouble — that would be a full-time job anyway.”

“That would be true if you weren’t one of the bastards who set up my brother in the first place and started it all.”

“Yeah, I know. Old song. Let’s move on. There’s a limited amount of favors I can call in and I had pretty much exhausted all of them to get you and your pals that deal.”

Michael considered the situation. Post-bringing down the General, Kellerman should have been at the spike of his influence, only needing to snap his fingers to have done what he wanted to be done. There was only one thing that could have got in his way.

“Someone was faster and more lethal than you, huh? Whoever tipped off the FBI and sent this video tape of Sara shooting my mother was faster and more powerful than you. You couldn’t do a thing.” Kellerman lifted and dropped back his right hand in admittance. “Makes you all the more resolute to get them, doesn’t it?”

“If they can still have this kind of influence when we thought we had killed them, imagine what they could achieve if they revive that fucking organization? Warden Simms lined up with the FBI for a bunch of reasons. Not wanting to be victim of one of your escape plans was one of them. Sara’s responsibility for what happened in Fox River was another. At least, she was smart enough to let herself be convinced to warn me if something went really awry.”

Michael knew Kellerman and had met with Simms a couple of time. She was a cold, tough, determined woman. He could imagine what kind of convincing it had taken to bend her to Kellerman’s demand.

Over a cup of coffee and pretentious croissants, Kellerman told him how, when they brought him here a few months ago, he looked like something the cat had dragged in, and even a bit worse. But at least, they did bring him here, thanks to the warden who kept her word and contacted Kellerman when she found out Michael wasn’t totally dead, by the way. Not that it was an option right now, but Michael owed the warden a fucking thank you note because if she’d been a bit less careerist — and attached to her limbs and a few family members — he would have ended up falling into The Company’s hands.

(Michael thought of the way the warden had treated Sara and a thank you note was the furthest concern in his mind, but whatever, he let Kellerman blather.)

Between a croissant and a slice of peach, Kellerman announced, “General Krantz is in jail and will be sentenced to death.”

The trial had only just begun because there was too much evidence to gather and process, too many procedures to follow and witnesses to protect, but the outcome had already been written, at least in Kellerman’s book — which was the one that mattered here.

“As you know, there can be years between a sentence and its execution.”

(Even though Kellerman and his group would see that the delay was reduced to its minimum. Kellerman had experience with this kind of thing, after all.)

“In the meantime, Krantz will try to put The Company back together and leave it to one of his lieutenants.”

“I thought you had... harvested all of them?”

“Most of them,” Kellerman corrected. “The less smart ones. A few of the cleverest ones managed to elude us. And the troops, the lower level manpower... We need to go deeper. We need to expose, arrest and neutralize them in a way that will ensure they won’t have the possibility, and even less the desire, to start everything all over again as they’re doing it right now.”

Michael listened. He didn’t ask how Kellerman could be so sure of what Krantz was up to because he knew the answer.

“It’s already started, Michael.”

Kellerman whispered with intensity, acting up for Michael’s benefit, and Michael hated to admit it, but it worked. Beyond expectations because his hurt but still out-of-the-ordinary brain could envision it without effort: if Krantz could work to put The Company back together, then he could work to do to Sara whatever struck his fancy.

“The man has been in solitary for weeks and yet, he can still communicate with the exterior.”

Kellerman kept talking, explaining. His voice was a background hum as Michael thought about this place, about Sara and Linc and the baby, and how to get back to them. For now, wandering attention to Kellerman’s speech was sufficient: Michael had understood what he would ask him as soon as he mentioned Krantz.

“We want you to work on finding out how he can do that, and then on ways to prevent him from doing it. We want you to help us find out who will be the next head of The Company.”

Kellerman talked, talked, talked, and during all this time, a baby was growing in Sara’s belly, so really, there was only one question making sense in Michael’s mind: “When can I go?”

Just as he never second-guessed or fought Yoki, he didn’t second-guess or fight Kellerman. That would be pointless, a waste of time.

“I’m sorry?”

“When does it stop? I’m not going to stay in this place forever.”

Kellerman seemed to be amused by his question, its naivety.

“It stops when Krantz goes to the chair and the Hydra’s main head rolls to the ground.”

Previous / next chapters

--Comments are always welcome and very much appreciated :)
Current Mood: melancholymelancholy
heliokleia: KMAN IC - Hmmheliokleia on August 11th, 2015 08:29 pm (UTC)


17. a KMAN & MIKEY s02 - ANIMATED 1 - You still think you're run this show.. photo 17. a KMAN amp MIKEY s02 - ANIMATED 1 - You still think youre run this show.._zpspz9ulohi.gif SMILEY - ANIM - lila Smiley, squeeing photo SMILEY - ANIM - lila Smiley squeeing_zpsldupx9jz.gif

Thank you so much, ma chère Clair, for my beloved [ex-] Special Aagent Badass' first appearance. He 'n' Mikey always had chemistry; don't you think? SMILEY - ANIM - breitgrins photo SMILEY - ANIM - breitgrins_zpsrpoiepct.gif

...And why I'm not really surprised that *coughs* The Company is still not beaten after all? Phew, I think I can already start crossing my fingers, that the Kman and our smart Mr Pretteh finally find a way to work together (again) and that the dear Magnificent Bastard will not betray Mikey in the end...
- Because I'm not buying that he doesn't care for our prettehlicious Mr Scofield and his reheadded doc; no sir. SMILEY - ANIM - Grinse-Smiley  mit blinke-Ray Ban, cool! photo SMILEY - ANIM - Grinse-Smiley  mit blinke-Ray Ban cool_zpspkijxf9c.gif
*winks conspiriatorially*

Okidoki... the suspence is growing and growing - and so is my excitement.

P.S. The subtle hints for said other TV show? Looks like old Helio is one of those who hadn't watched it on TV. But I think I can live with that... Herzerl-Smiley 3 photo Herzerl-Smiley 3_zps7podg4n0.gif
Clair de Lune: pb - michael5clair_de_lune on August 11th, 2015 09:28 pm (UTC)
Thank you, Frau Helio ;)

He 'n' Mikey always had chemistry; don't you think?

Absolutely *nods* I looooved Kellerman, and Kellerman's relationship with Michael. And Lincoln. And Sara. He was fun. Well, a certain kind of fun ;)

And why I'm not really surprised that *coughs* The Company is still not beaten after all?

I'm afraid I'm not very original here *g* But considering that in The Final Break someone did tip off the police about Sara shooting down Christina, we can assume this was The Company's doing.

Because I'm not buying that he doesn't care for our prettehlicious Mr Scofield and his reheadded doc; no sir.

*zips lips* But, ahem, there might be indications in later chapters that Kellerman is slightly exaggerating his absence of care for Michael and Sara here...

(The other show is The Pretender. You definitely can live without knowing it indeed - although it was a nice show ♥ and Miss Parker, who I used as a "model" for Mrs. Jamison was badass ♥ )

heliokleia: KMAN IC - RING PORNheliokleia on August 12th, 2015 07:34 pm (UTC)
"Thank you, Frau Helio ;)"
- Hehe! Jolly good, Mme Moonlight.

"...But, ahem, there might be indications in later chapters that Kellerman is slightly exaggerating his absence of care for Michael and Sara here..."
- O dear! *gasps*

Finally, now that you're telling me the other TV show is Pretender, it looks like silly old Frau Helio was standing on it, obviously.
*looks sheepishly*
- Because, of course, I know that show!! Back in the day, I had a big crush on Michael T. Weiss aka Jarod and also liked the ass-kicking Mizz Parker alot.

But an odd thing for me was, that even her boyfriend in the later season(s) didn't called her by her [still mysterious] first name, even if the actress' name was ANDREA Parker, if I remember right...

But anyway, in the mid-nineties, as Pretender was aired for the first time on German Telly, it was a big success and had many fans.
*waves back with red cheecks*

So yeah... excellent choice for using Mizz Parker as a "model" for a strong female character in your story, ma chère; now I can imagine Mrs Jamison mucho better...
*grins like a minx*
Clair de Lune: pretenderclair_de_lune on August 12th, 2015 08:09 pm (UTC)
Hm. Maybe my not-subtle references are more subtle than I thought (aka you need to be as obsessed as I was with the show to get them) :-p The first one is actually in chapter 2 when Yoki tells Michael that the facility is in Delaware, not very far from Dover: that was where The Centre was located in The Pretender. Another one is Mrs. Jamison's name: Jamison was Catherine Parker's maiden name (Miss Parker's mom). Maybe I should list the "hints" and post them at the end of the fic...

I had a big crush on Michael T. Weiss aka Jarod

Who didn't? ;)

But an odd thing for me was, that even her boyfriend in the later season(s) didn't called her by her [still mysterious] first name, even if the actress' name was ANDREA Parker, if I remember right...

You remember right. The actress and her character shared the same name - a bit like Sara and Sarah :-p
Miss Parker whispered her first name to Jarod when they were kids but we were not privy of the intel! Actually, most of the characters in The Pretender were known by their first name or their last name: we rarely knew their full names. I played with that for the people working at The Foundation - except Yoki.

And don't start me with The Pretender or I'm going to bug you to no end with it!! I used to be totally enamored with it and, as you can see, it doesn't take much for me to blather about it :-p