Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Prison Break
Challenge/Prompt: beattheblackdog 78: Meeting
Word Count: 1,668
Date Written: 2 September 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
They’re going to blame you. They’re going to blame me for helping you escape, but they’re going to blame you for what becomes of me. The funny thing is: It’s not your fault. You didn’t force me to help. You gave me a chance to do what’s right, to help you do what’s right, to finally make a difference in this crazy world with our screwed up system. I failed one kid. I couldn’t fail you too, not now that I know.
I don’t understand how people can be the way they are. Every time I think I have people figured out, something happens to make me realize how wrong I am. You happened this time. I could still be wrong, but I have a feeling everything you’ve done has been for the right reasons. Maybe not the right methods -- I haven’t forgiven you for lying to me, you know --, but for the right reasons.
They were going to kill your brother. You two are all each other has left, although I do think Veronica would take Lincoln back in a heartbeat if he was free -- perhaps she’s not the only one who would welcome a convicted criminal back into her arms with an open heart either --, but that man is your world and they were going to kill him for a murder he didn’t commit.
I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand how it could have gotten this far, but somebody’s covering up something. I may not have all the evidence, but I’m still convinced that Lincoln didn’t kill that man. He doesn’t have the eyes of a killer. Neither of you do. And yet, you’re both going to receive the blame for murders you didn’t commit.
I should have left a note, but I can’t write now. My hands are shaking too much, and my vision is too blurred. I could try, but it wouldn’t be legible. I only hope, when they find me, that you understand you are not to blame. You take the world on your shoulders, Michael, but you aren’t to blame for it. Even if Lincoln does end up dying for a crime he didn’t commit, I hope you know that you’ve done everything you can to save him -- far more than what anybody else I’ve ever known would do. His death won’t be your fault; my death isn’t either.
They’re going to talk. They’re going to talk about this case, about you and me, about all of this for a long time to come. I’d like to think that my death will matter. I’d like to think that maybe my brother will finally see that money and prestige aren’t everything, that the law isn’t ours to play with, that a man’s life means far more than any profit he can make. I’d like to think that my father might actually sit up and pay attention for once. But I know I’d only be fooling myself.
I’m done lying to myself, to others, for a society and law organizations that are never going to get straightened out. I always wanted to make a difference -- it’s why I became a doctor in the first place -- and finally, because of you, for you and your brother, I’m going to make one. I have had made one. You’re free now. I have full faith in you and that you managed to get yourself and your brother out of Fox River. You’re free; I only hope you can stay that way.
I wonder if you know how much of a genius you are, Michael? Nobody else has ever pulled off the things you’re doing, but then, nobody’s ever tried for the right reasons before. You’re letting love lead you. You’re taking a stand for love and risking everything for Lincoln, risking everything for what’s right. Maybe that’s why you’re going to succeed. They say God rewards those who do right, no matter how perilous the journey.
I know you’ve lived; you’ve lied many times to me alone. You robbed that bank, and you were armed, but I don’t think you ever had any intention of actually hurting someone. You just knew you had to get to your brother, and you did it the only way you knew how. You’ve gotten to him, Michael. You’ve freed him.
Please stay free. Regardless of whatever comes, please stay free. Live. Be the difference this world so direly needs. Change more lives, for the better, like you’ve changed mine.
They’re not going to say that; they’ll never see it, never understand it. They’ll say I was doing fine until I met you and everything went downhill after that, but they’re wrong. They’re all wrong. Meeting you was actually the best thing that ever happened to me.
You made me feel, Michael. You made me feel in ways I’d long ago given up trying to feel. You’re right: I always did throw away the flowers from my Father before they went bad. They were reminders I didn’t need: reminders of a father who only loved his daughter because he wanted to look good for his constituents, reminders of a father who never really cared for the children he had.
I kept your origami flower for much the same reason: I wanted to remember how you made me feel. I never felt so alive as I did the night you rescued me. I was terrified, and you didn’t have to come save me. You didn’t have to help me. But you did. Like I said before, you take the world’s troubles on your own shoulders. You took mine that night. You saved me in more ways than one.
And I know you kissed me in your efforts to get my key. I know that was meant to be a trick, but I don’t think what we shared, what we truly shared not just that one time but throughout our whole time of getting to know each other, was a faux. You moved me, and I like to believe that I moved you too. I didn’t realize just how dead I was inside until you woke me up not just with your kiss but with your ways, with all of them.
In the end . . . I know you lied to me. I know they’ll blame you for my death, for supposedly tricking me. You’ll probably blame yourself too, although I wish you wouldn’t. I’ve felt dead inside, Michael, for so long, for so very, very long. That’s why I became addicted to this stuff in the first place: It was the first thing to make me feel alive. You were the last, and the best, and you made me feel alive far more than any drug ever did.
Part of me wishes I had gone with you, but I’m not cut out for that life. Besides, you’d never get away if you had the Governor’s daughter attached to you. There’s a lot of bad things I can say about my Father, but I know he would never stop hunting for me. I’d like to think it’s because he loves me, or because he would have realized he loved me, but I know better. It would make him look bad, make him look weak, if a convict managed to cart away his daughter and not get caught; he’d never sit for it.
It was never about me, or about my brother, or even my mother with him; it was always how he looked in society’s eyes. But for you . . . You’re the only man I know who’s got it right, Michael. You don’t care what the world thinks of you; you don’t even really care what I may end up thinking of you. You only care about doing what’s right, about freeing a brother and clearing him of a crime he didn’t commit. But for what it’s worth, Michael . . . Not that I’ll ever get to tell you, but you are the bravest, strongest, most intelligent man I have ever met.
I hope this doesn’t derail you. I hope you keep running. I hope you keep doing what’s right. Don’t let my death stop you. Don’t let anyone stop you. Save your brother. Save yourself, and know that none of this is what is right.
This place, where I am now, it’s where I was headed for years before I failed to do what was right. I’ve finally done what’s right now. I’ve finally helped to save a life, rather than just standing idly by like the world at large and not doing anything to help anyone. I’ve finally made the right move, Michael, and I owe it all to you.
So please, keep running. Keep fighting. Keep doing what’s right. And know that you’re not the cause of this. I’m finally free, and I can die a free woman, a proud woman, knowing that I did what was right, knowing I made a difference in a world where people don’t care any more about each other, about lives and freedom and what is right. I made a difference. I helped to save a life. And I owe it all to you.
So please don’t go thinking you’re the reason for my death, Michael. You’re the reason I finally lived. You’re the reason I can leave this world knowing I succeeded in my dream. You’re the reason I felt alive and fulfilled while I did. You’re the reason I’m leaving this world with a smile on my face. I’m ready to go, and I’m going willingly.
But you keep fighting, Michael. Keep protecting your brother. Keep saving those who cannot save themselves. Keep doing what’s right. And I’ll see you on the other side. Maybe then, we can pick up where we left off. Maybe we can kiss again then, and this time, it will be for real. Maybe then, I’ll finally get to thank you face to face, or soul to soul however it works there, but I’ll see you there, Michael. Goodbye for now.