Disclaimer: Prison Break is created and written by Paul Scheuring. This fan-fiction had been written purely for entertainment purposes. No infringement was intended and no profit had been made out of this.
Title: Unexpected Repercussions
Summary: The story picks up after the last episode of season 1, so expect spoilers for anything that happened in season 1. This is my take on the next episode, while we wait for the real thing. No doubt I will cringe with mortification when the actual Season 2 masterpiece appears in Aug/Sep.
Spoiler: The entire Season 1
A/N: This is my first Prison Break fanfiction, so I'm kind of testing the waters here (grins). I hope that you'll like it!
The cold wind whipped past his ears as he ran as fast as he could, fueled by adrenaline, flanked by four other escapees.
His muscles screamed at the abuse and his heart pounded hard with every step he took. It was like an erratic drumbeat in his ears, blocking out all other sounds, including the whipping blades of the helicopter rotors above them. The wheels in his minds were turning rapidly as he desperately tried to recall what he was supposed to do next.
He had planned for this. A contingency plan just in case he could not get anywhere with Abruzzi. But the part with Abruzzi had played out as he had hoped. Well, apart from his two missing toes. Abruzzi had managed to secure a plane for them, and that was all he had cared about at that time.
The plane leaving without them was something Michael had not expected. It had thrown a proverbial spanner into the works.
His hazel eyes picked up a tree line not far in front of them, and then like a jigsaw puzzle, it suddenly clicked into place. His eyes brightened. He remembered what he had planned.
Turning quickly to Sucre and C-Note, who were running alongside on his left, Michael yelled loudly to make sure that he was heard over the sound of the helicopters, "Sucre! Head for the trees."
When Sucre whipped his head around, Michael could see the fear in his eyes. "Man, you'd better have some plan in mind," the Hispanic man yelled. Beside him, C-Note, who was breathing heavily as his legs pounded the ground, just gave Scofield a worried look.
Satisfied that he got the message across, Michael called out to Lincoln and Abruzzi, who were on his other side. "We need to make for the trees as fast as we can," he shouted urgently.
"Where are we going?" Lincoln asked, his chest heaving with every breath he took.
"Out of here," Michael replied.
Abruzzi growled. "This can't be happening. This can't be happening!" he yelled in anger. There was a wild gleam in his eyes.
Michael grimaced. This was not the right time to wonder what had gone wrong with their transport or to go into hysterics. "You need to stay calm, Abruzzi. We'll talk about it when we get out of this spotlight," he snapped.
"What's your plan?" C-Note asked.
"You'll know soon."
First, they have to get into the woods. It was all part of a sequence. When they managed to complete step one, he could tell them what came next.
Still running, Michael lifted his right arm to his eyes, studying the tattoo-ed information on his skin. He had to take advantage of the illumination from the helicopter spotlights while he could. The woods were not far now. Once they got in there, it would be impossible to read the plans on his skin.
They reached the edge of the tree line just as he finished digesting the information. A minute later, they were hidden under the densely packed trees, all breathing heavily after the exertion.
"What now, Scofield?" C-Note asked, bending over with his hands on his thighs, his breath coming out in puffs of white in the cold air.
"So, what's the plan, man?" Sucre added, leaning up against a tree.
Lincoln was crouched on the ground, the heel of his hands pressed against his forehead.
Abruzzi was pacing, his jerky movements displaying his agitation.
Michael watched them calmly, noting the expression on their faces. Fear was predominant, but he could also see the hope in their eyes. In a way, it was frightening how much these convicts had come to rely on him. Although not exactly free yet, they were effectively out of Fox River State Penitentiary. And Michael wondered if they realized that they still sought directions from him.
Looking back towards the direction of the runway which they had just come from, Michael explained, "Couple of years ago, the airport authority switched their old drainage system for a new one. So now, there's a disused drain which runs from there to the main discharge." He turned around, pointing further into the woods. "About twenty meters ahead, there is a manhole leading to that drain. We need to find it."
Abruzzi bristled. "How are we going to find something like that in the dark? It's probably buried under a pile of dried twigs and leaves," he gritted out impatiently, obviously displeased. Michael suspected that his displeasure was more to do with the fact that the plane left without them, landing them in this situation.
With a small frown on his face, Lincoln said, "Michael, I hope you have a better way of doing this. We don't have time to dig through the leaves. Do you know where it is?"
"Not exactly, but I left some clues," Michael said. "Look for trees with white paint marks on the trunk. There are three of them somewhere up there," he continued, nudging in one direction.
"You'd better be right, Fish," Abruzzi said tersely.
C-Note snorted derisively. "That's rich, coming from the one who messed up our way out."
In a flash, Abruzzi grabbed C-note by the front of his shirt. "If I were you, I'd watch that mouth," he spat into C-Note's face.
Brushing Abruzzi's hands off roughly, C-Note threw back, unperturbed, "Or what? You're gonna have your face in the dirt in two second if you even think of crossing me."
"Cut it out! We don't have time for this," Michael snapped with a frown. Things were difficult enough without them at each others throats. They needed to work together for now.
"Let's go. We're wasting time," Lincoln said sternly.
There were a few muttered grumbles before they fanned out, looking for the trees with white paint marks.
Michael looked back in the direction of the runway. He knew that it would not be long before the ground team came in after them. They had to move fast. If everything went according to his secondary plan, they should find themselves in somewhere safe in about two hours.
He raised his hands to rub his forehead, but paused when he saw the blood-stained handcuffs dangling off his right wrist. The image of T-Bag's lifeless hand appeared in his mind, and bile rose in his throat. Swallowing hard, he quickly dropped his hands. He was not the one who had chopped off T-Bag's hand, but he felt the remorse all the same.
The price of the escape was higher than he had originally thought. There had been so many unexpected repercussions following what he had started; the riot which had resulted in so many casualties; the death of the inmates and the innocent guard; Westmoreland's final seconds.
Sara's face suddenly flashed in front of his eyes. Michael shut his eyes briefly. He did not know if he could ever forgive himself for what he had done. His mind told him that the manipulation was necessary in order for him to save his brother's life. But what about the betrayal he had detected in her eyes when he had told her the truth? What about her feelings?
How about HIS feelings?
Michael's head sagged and he exhaled a heavy breath. It was too late. There was nothing he could do about it now. At the moment, the most important thing was for them to get away. To lay low and hide until he could figure out the next step forward.
Straightening his spine, he forced his attention back to more pressing matters.
"I found it!" an excited shout came from his left.
A/N: Hope you all liked it. It'll be greatly appreciated if you could let me know what you think, seeing that this is the first PB fic I'm writing.