Okay, so I JUST recently discovered the wonderfulness that is Prison Break, and have been downloading PB Torrents like mad. I just saw the fall finale, so this has been knawing at me for a day or so. Plus, I pretty much love LJ, and I don't think he get's enough screen time, IMHO. So. Here's a little shot, with some spoilers for Rendezvous (2X12) and The Killing Box (2X13). It's my first PB fic; Hope you enjoy!
Spoilers for 2X13: LJ sees the news reports that Lincoln and Michael have been caught.
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Jane has really done the best she could these last couple days. She tries to make small talk, asks me about generalities that can stay off the topic of the police, and The Company, and conspiracies. But it's both there, making us uncomfortable. Not towards each other, but towards the situation. My dad, uncle, grandfather...there all out there, running for their lives in attempt to prove their innocence, and it's the one thing we don't want to dwell on but that can't happen. Hell, I wouldn't even be with Jane if it wasn't for this entire mess.
I don't sleep well, at all. Maybe 4 hours, if I'm lucky. Usually, though, it's just me, tossing and turning at night, pretending to be asleep when she checks in on me sometimes, and I think to myself, she must have been a mother.
I miss mine, but I try not to dwell on that either.
Tonight, though; Tonight, I get up, because I heard her head to bed hours ago, and I decide the tv might help me sleep. It's 4 in the morning; I get up and walk to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water before heading into the living room and snapping on the tv. VH1 flashes on with some music videos and I decide that seems okay; until, that is, some Creed song comes on, and I just gotta change it.
And that when I see it; just flipping through, landing on the local Fox station, there's my dad and Uncle Mike, their pictures flashed across the screen and the water slips from my hand, spilling on the wood floor.
"...most notorious members of the Fox River 8, have been apprehended just a few miles north of the Mexican border..."
My heart drops into the pit of my stomach, and I know this isn't like before. There is no man to save them, to bail them out like my grandfather did for us the other day and I know this is it; it's game over, and there is no out this time.
They show a clip now of the new Warden of Fox River, 'cause apparently it's been a few hours since they were found, and he's saying that the execution may be as soon as next week. Tears spring to my eyes but I refuse to cry right now. Instead, I lay down on the couch, turning the tv on mute to not hear their wicked, patronizing voices as they insinuate on the character of my father and uncle, and realize I'm more exhausted than I thought.
Sleep comes before I expect it to, and the only way I know it's sleep is 'cause I'm dreaming. It's not even so much of a dream, really; more like a memory. I'm 6, maybe 7 again, and I'm with my dad and it's breakfast...breakfast's with him were always so good. The man could not cook spaghetti but give him some flour, blueberries, milk and other miscellanous ingredients and you had some damn good pancakes.
We're eating, and there are cartoons on but I'm not watching them. My dad and I, we're going back and forth, talking about my week and his, and he's cuffing me playfully on the back of the head, rustling my hair. He's smiling, I'm laughing and this memory is so sickeningly sweet, like a scene from a sitcom, but I can't help but cling to it. He loves me, I know he does, and I love him; life has just got to problematic for the both of us now to really say it.
Suddenly, the memory/dream thing, it changes and it's days before. We're standing outside the house, and he's saying goodbye to me, and I'm angry. He knows it, and he hugs me goodbye and to make sure he knows I'm mad, I only half hug him; I don't tell him I love him. Suddenly, this dream, this wonderful memory, has turned into a nightmare.
I am never going to see my father again, I think. And he thinks I'm mad at him.
"LJ?" A feminine voice rips me from my horrible realization and awakens me. There's sunlight now pouring into the living room, and a blue knit throw over me. Jane.
"Hey," I croak. My eyes find a small digital clock on the end table and I realize I've slept for almost 7 hours; the tv is still on Fox News, except they're covering something about Iraq, and not the Fox River 8. I thank God for it, because I don't think I could handle it right as I wake up.
"So you heard?" I nod, affixing my eyes to the wooden floor in front of me as she continues. "When'd you come out here?"
"Around 4." I answer shortly and shift positions sitting up, and a familiar scent hits my nose. "What's that?"
"Breakfast!" Jane says, almost brightly, and I examine her in amusement. Jane isn't one of those peppy, cheerleader mom types; she's more of a shoot first, tough kind of broad, but she's seems proud of herself so I smile.
"Cool."
"Are you hungry?" She asks warily, knowing the news probably hit me hard. But I nod vigourously, because it's something to take my mind off my dad, and to not think about something that hasn't left my mind in a long while. I rise up, stretching out my arms as I rack my brain, trying to figure out what it is she has cooked, and I follow her as she walks toward the kitchen.
"So what do we got here?" I ask, trying to be somewhat upbeat. She's trying, and the least I can do is show her I appreciate it.
"Blueberry pancakes. Do you like them?" She appears near the table in front of me as she answers, plate in hand, steam rising from it as her other hand holds a container of syrup.
And that's when I lose it.
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Moments have passed and I don't even realize it, but the plate is on the table and I'm in a kitchen chair. Jane is kneeling in front of me, hands on my knees as she tries to calm me down, but it's not working very well.
"They're gonna kill him," I choke out. "They're gonna kill him, in a week, and I'm not gonna get to see him, or talk to him, or anything. If he even makes it to Fox River! Jane, he doesn't know...I didn't tell him when we left, I didn't tell him I love him..."
"Hey, hey...it's gonna be okay...come on, they'll work this out..."
"They'll work this out?!" I exclaim. "How?! They're being guarded more heavily than Hussein right now, transferred back to Illinois if they even make it that far, because we both know the government wants them both dead right now, rather than back there and dead in a week." I take a deep breath, and my heart rate begins to slow. "It's not gonna be okay, Jane; this is it, for both of them." I'm calmer now as I finish, and my words are at a normal volume while my tears are drying on my face.
She pulls back, brushing my hair from my eyes, but I jerk from her touch. Her face looks slightly hurt, and I shake my head.
"I'm sorry," I begin. "It's just...my dad...he always, he likes to mess up my hair. It's kind of his way of saying 'I love you', by like ruffling it or whatever. I didn't mean..."
"No, it's totally okay." She raises back off her haunches and stands, and her smile is genuine so I know she's really not hurt. "I can make something else." She continues uneasily, not sure exactly what set me off, and I chuckle.
"Nah, I like them, really." I reassure her, and she sits in the seat adjacent to mine. There's orange juice in front of me too, and I immediately take a sip as she places 3 pancakes on my plate and takes some for herself.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, munching on our breakfasts, and unsure of what to say. I'm embarrassed by my outburst, for making her feel uncomfortable and as I take a sip on orange juice, I tell her so.
"LJ." She looks at me, dead in the face after I say it, and I have to admit, her stone cold demeanor startles me. "It's okay. I think it's amazing how well you've dealt with all of this to begin with."
"Yeah, I know, but still. I could've handled it better."
"Everyone reaches their breaking point. And you're still just a kid, LJ." She reassures softly. It's quiet again now, as she doesn't continue and I hate the sound of silence, so I speak.
"He made them for me; when I was little." She looks at me quizzically, so I smile and continue. "My dad, I mean. He made me blueberry pancakes, whenever we'd have breakfast together on Sundays. It was our thing."
"Oh really?" She asks, a smile on her lips now as she rest her head on her hands, propped up by her elbows on the table and I know she's humoring me, but she's enjoying it. I start to pick at the remnants of my breakfast though, what's left on the plate now soggy with syrup.
"I wish..." I shrug, and tears prick my eyes again. "Oh well. At least I have the memories right?"
"LJ." She grabs my hand, resting on the table. "I don't know you're dad personally very well, but I know you're grandfather. The way you're dad and Uncle got out of that prison, they can do this. And Aldo...he's gotten out of some pretty serious stuff before, and they have him in them, despite him being gone. Just like you have your dad in you."
"You think so?" And I mean the last thing she says, and she nods. "I just...I hope he knows, before he goes...you know. I hope he knows I love him." And now the tears are brimming and my throat feels clogged but dammit, I already did this to her, and I'm not gonna melt down again. "Cause, I mean, I didn't tell him, when we left. Because I was mad. And I don't want him to think that...I don't want that to be his last thought of me."
She's looking at me painfully, and I'm surprised to see her eyes shining as well as she purses her lips. She smiles sadly. "You don't know this, but...I have a daughter out there. She's a year older than you though, and I haven't seen her in," She cocks her head, considering before she continues. "...12 years."
"Really?"
"Really. I left for the same reasons Aldo left the boys. Their protection; I have a son who's older as well. But, LJ, there's one thing I can tell you. You know, as a kid, you know your parents love you? Even if sometimes you may doubt whether they like you, you know they always love you?" I nod slowly, considering what she asks, and she continues. "Well, it's the same thing with parents; they know, even if you're mad, even if they doubt whether you like them or not...they know you love them. At least, in this situation he would."
"You think?"
"I know, LJ."
I sit and nod, considering her words. I open my mouth to speak again, but I notice her attention has suddenly shifted to the television behind me and she quickly rises, rushing over. It's now 11:30 am, and they're on their way to Illinois. What could be on the news? My body runs cold as the question forms in my mind. What if they're already dead?
I'm too frozen with the possibility to turn, but she turns the volume up and I hear it, but I don't react. I mechanically turn around, my emotions at a standstill as I watch the reporter, her face slightly downcast as she reports the latest developments; her expression kind of makes me want to throw something at the TV.
"...again, both Burrows and Scofield have escaped from the police transport as of 10 am this morning. The escape occured when the transport was hindered by a semi-truck blocking the intersection. They escaped into the overpass tunnels, and appear to have had some aid by an outside source, as they were unarmed, and an officer was shot in their pursuit..."
Jane's phone is going off in the next room, but I barely notice her leave out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't believe it; she was right. They had made it, and wherever they were going, they were going alive, and nowhere in the direction of Fox River. And by now...it had been almost 2 hours. Depending on how they were going, they could be anywhere!
"Yeah...yeah, hold on." Jane enters the living room. Her eyes were sad, bright with tears for a moment, but she masks it as my eyes meet hers. With her hand over the mouthpiece of the cell, and a ghost of a smile on her face, she calls to me. "Hey, LJ?"
"Hm?" I ask, somewhat detached. There's this floaty, relief feeling in my head, and can tell I have some stupid grin on my face, but I don't care. She thrusts the phone at me.
"Somebody wants to talk to you."
I take the phone with shaky hands, half-believing how quickly these events have just played out and pressed the phone to my ear. He picks up my breathing almost immediately and speaks first, in a rushed, anxious fashion. "LJ? LJ, are you there?"
"Dad?! You're okay, right? You and Uncle Mike, you're okay?"
"Yeah, yeah we're good." I hear his breathy chuckle, and I feel my smile splitting my face in two. "Aw, kid. I just needed to hear you."
"Look...Dad, I want you to know something. I should've told you the other day, and with this, I didn't think I was gonna get to talk to you again..." My voice cracks slightly, but I clear my throat and continue. This is too important to be embarrassed. "I love you, okay? No matter what, I love you."
The pause follows, the one where I know I've really gotten to him, and he clears his throat. "I love you too, son. No matter what."
I close my eyes in relief; this is not the end. It is entirely a new beginning.
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