Fever Dream: Prison Break Fic

 

Fever Dream

 

            Michael rolled a lock of Theodore’s white blonde hair over his fingers.  It was thin, rough and brittle as straw but under his touch it become silky. 

 

            “Nice,” Michael said.  “It reminds me of when you were a little boy.”

 

            “What do you know about that?”  Theodore asked suspiciously.  “You weren’t even born then.”

 

            “I know everything about you, Teddy,” Michael whispered soothingly, his angel face serene.  “I know how hard it’s been for you.  I know how you never wanted to do the bad things you did.  I know you never had a choice.  I’ve made the effort to understand you.  You were blonde and blue eyed until you were five years old.”

 

            “Then my eyes turned dark.  My father said it was a sign that his best efforts had failed and I was my evil mama’s child.” 

 

            “Better hers then his,” Michael said sensibly.  Theodore wasn’t quite sure what he was doing in his hometown or why Michael was in Millhaven, Alabama but they seemed comfortable enough, sitting side by side in the village square under the spreading elm trees.  Michael was wearing a dark suit and tie.  There was a wreath of wildflowers around his head.  White and green Queen Anne’s lace, blue chicory blossoms. 

 

            “She was a witch you know, my mama.”  Theodore said. 

 

            “So are you,” Michael said.  He was pouring a dark red wine into tall, clear glasses, sprinkling petals on top.

 

            “That’s not true,” Theodore scoffed.  “If I could work any kind of magic my life would have been a helluva lot different.”  Michael looked amused in that condescending way of his.

 

 “Have you ever had wine before, really good wine?”  Michael asked.  “You’ll like it.  It tastes like it’s alive.”

 

“Why are you being so nice to me, pretty?”  Theodore snarled. 

 

“We’re out now, Teddy.”  Michael said calmly, handing him one of the glasses of wine.  “In Fox River everything was cruel and desperate and foul.  You had to be that way too, just to survive.  Now that we’re free through, everything is different.  You can be what you really are and I can show you how beautiful the world is.”

 

“Really?”  Theodore asked.  There was a plea to his voice that shamed him but Michael only smiled.

 

“Really,” he said.  “Try your wine.  Don’t just drink it.  Smell it, that’s right.  What does it smell like?”

 

“Mowed grass, bread baking, horses, cotton candy, Christmas trees.”

 

“Now taste it.”

 

He took a sip from the cup.  Michael was right; it came alive in his mouth with a warmth and motion like a kiss.  It was a kiss.  Michael was kissing him, his tongue rolling around Theodore’s.  They drank from each other for a long time, longer than he’d ever imagined Michael would ever tolerate contact with him.  Yet Michael seemed to want him, his hands strong but tender holding Theodore close.  Finally it was Theodore who broke away.

 

“We shouldn’t be making out in public like this,” He said.  “Folks around here aren’t exactly what you’d call accommodating of alternative lifestyles.”

 

“Come with me,” Michael said and lead him surely through the tiny, tangled streets of Millhaven.  At first Theodore through they were holding hands but when he looked he saw they were handcuffed together at the wrist. 

 

Michael stopped in front of a shabby two story white house with an overgrown yard and a sagging porch in front.  It was the house Theodore had grown up in.

 

“I don’t want to go into that place,” he said.

 

“It’ll be okay,” Michael promised.  I’m with you.  The door opened when he turned the knob.  Nobody locked their doors in Millhaven even thought here were meth labs in the trailer park and infamous madwomen and their murderous sons at large. 

 

“I haven’t been here since 1993,” Theodore said.  “That was when the old man died.  He was dying right here, right in the living room.  The woman he’d married a few years before, I can’t remember her name, she’d brought Hospice in.  He had a hospital bed and an IV, all the medical equipment right over here.  He was asking for me in his way.  ‘Where’s that bitch Lottie’s boy, where’s my crazy sister’s boy?  Where’s that bastard, Teddy Bagwell.’  I was between sentences so I came.”

 

“That was kind of you,” Michael said softly.

 

“It was my last chance to kill him.”

 

“Did you kill him?”

 

“They left him alone with him,” Theodore said, his voice wavering.  “He was an old, old man all veins and wrinkles but still so cruel.  He grabbed me by the wrist, yelled at me for being away so long.  Then he told me to get into bed with him.  He said I was the best lay he’d ever had next to that hag Lottie Bagwell and I owed him since he’d raised me up right.  I’d come to kill him but I wanted him to love me so I got into bed with him and I let him do what he wanted just like when I was a kid.”  He looked to Michael.  “Does that disgust you?”  He asked.  “Do I make you sick?”

 

“I understand wanting to be loved,” Michael said. 

 

“I guess with all the other things I’ve done helping some filthy old man get off is the least of it.”

 

“You have done a lot of unforgivable things,” Michael said.  “But you’ve been given another chance.”

 

“I’ve had a lot of chances, pretty.  I’ve blown them all.”

 

“I’m here to help you this time.”

 

The room he had shared with his cousin Jimmy hadn’t changed in nearly 40 years.  Still the two narrow beds, side by side with their blue spreads.  Gauzy curtains fluttering in the breeze, their toys arranged on a shelf.  They’d never had a lot.  A box a crayons, a tin of Lincoln logs, a battered ball and glove, the old shoebox he kept his treasures in. 

 

Theodore took the box from the shelf.  He sat down on the bed and Michael sat beside him as he opened the lid. 

 

“This is from the first person I ever killed for pleasure,” he said lifting out a barrette striped pink and white with braided ribbons.  “She wore it in her hair, long brown hair.  She was maybe 12 years old.  She had a beautiful smile.”

 

“It’s good you remember her.”

 

“I was wrong to kill her.  She should have grown up.”

 

“I’m glad you realize that.” 

 

They kissed again.  Theodore laid his head on Michael’s chest and Michael held him.  He knew he was safe.  He had never been safe before.

 

“How did we get here?”  Theodore asked.  Michael smiled, the wreath of flowers was crooked, covering one of his eyes.  

 

“You don’t remember?”  Michael asked.

 

“No.”

 

“After we went over the wall the van got stuck.  We had to run.  We were slowing them down,” Michael lifted his wrist, where they were cuffed together.  “John Abruzzi found and axe and cut off your hand.”

 

“Oh my God.”

 

“I stayed with you, I got you to a doctor.  He reattached your hand so we could always be linked to each other.”

 

“I remember some,” Theodore said.  He could feel Michael’s heartbeat; feel the warmth of his body.  “I remember now John with the axe, seeing my hand on the floor, trying not to scream.”

 

“I wouldn’t leave you.”  Michael whispered stroking his strange bleached yellow hair.  Theodore could feel something else, something like pain.

 

“I remember bleeding.  I remember being all alone.”  The pain grew sharper.  Everything was wavering.  Michael held him tighter.

 

“I took care of you.  I never left your side.”  Michael said.

 

“I remember you running away.”

 

He woke in blinding pain, gritting his teeth to keep from screaming.  It was morning; the sun was rising.  He must have passed out, hidden outside the doctor’s office.  Someone would come soon.  If he had any strength left he’d wrap his one good hand around their throat, force them to help him.  That was the only way to get help.  That was the only way to go on living.  Anything else was delirium, the taunting hallucination of a fever dream.