Michael moves like a living man caught in a stampede of zombies. He walks between the raindrops and rarely gets wet, but when he does he gets soaked.

…held down, scissoring blades, and so much blood, his foot feels just that much lighter…

He is a puppet master and he seems to have everyone dancing in tune on their strings, but now and then a string could break. He wasn't dealing with kind, good people with justice in their hearts, and ideals singing through their brains. These were murderers, rapists and thieves. These were the men that people had nightmares about. These were the men he ate next to, the men he talked to everyday.

Sometimes he could forget that for all of them, there was a victim or seven hanging over their heads. He found himself wondering how many victims he would leave after he was done. How many lives he would ruin. Guards fired, victims terrified at having their attackers out and free. Though he found himself doubting that T-bag had left many victims alive. He would have enjoyed the kill too much.

…little girl screaming, golden hair ripped from its roots, and T-bag's eyes are glittering…

He wonders how far he'll go on this mad quest. He's already mutilated his body, inked and marked, and he's lied and stolen. What would be his breaking point? He watches Lincoln work behind the wire, and it scares him a little that maybe he could kill for his brother. Kill to save him from a murder charge, and the stupidity of that does not escape Michael. But there it was, and he couldn't deny it. Lincoln was still the most important person in his life, still the sun and the moon. He spent so much of his life hiding behind Lincoln's tough exterior, safe within his brother's embrace. He's all too aware of how screwed up he is. After all, he's the one in here, branded with his love for his brother.

It was a not so well kept secret and it was never spoken aloud, never given a name. All those nights he had wiled away, in his brother's bed, and they had never discussed it. Too afraid of what it would mean for them. But now, now Michael Scofield is an adult, and he's still trapped into his child-self's thoughts. But that's nothing new either. And he is still staring at Lincoln, wondering, waiting.

…arms holding him tight, keeping still, safe and he is far too in love with his brother...

Michael is dancing through the rain, and pulling the strings. He is tied to his brother, to the killers around him. He is maimed, mutilated and beautiful. He is still in charge of this thing, and he is going to ride it out until the bitter end. He isn't afraid.

…blood has been spilled, bones have been broken, bodies have been defiled, and Lincoln is safe…

Michael is in love.

---End