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Post by Audio Pineapple on May 8, 2007 14:55:33 GMT 1
mad good or mad bad?
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Post by scofield72 on May 8, 2007 19:46:03 GMT 1
Oh definitely mad good!!! I tend to use the word mad instead of odd or weird.
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Post by Audio Pineapple on May 8, 2007 22:32:09 GMT 1
lol I thought you were saying that I'd gone mad (which I probably did do lol but I've always been a fan of the Michael/T-Bag dynamic)
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Post by Audio Pineapple on May 9, 2007 17:25:25 GMT 1
Chapter 15
Sara grimaced as the shouts erupted around her; unable to distinguish which were shouts of happiness and which were shouts of helplessness. She tried to drown them out, focusing on the matter at hand; turning T-Bag’s body over so that the blood, now slowed to a trickle fell safely onto the floor.
“Keep him there, don’t let anybody move him.” Michael nodded weakly as Sara stood, sliding out of the door into the gaggle of guards waiting outside for the first batch of prisoners to take back to the cells. “You need to phone for an ambulance.”
“Why?”
She turned her body to address Bellick directly, “Bagwell coughed up blood, fell unconscious.”
Bellick began to sneer, “so let him bleed, it’s no big loss.”
“You need to phone for an ambulance, I have to go back in there…”
“Meh,” Sara felt her face begin to flush with anger, much as she disliked Bagwell it went against her ethics to stop him getting medical treatment and Bellick annoyed her. He had done so before the escape, constantly leering at her and making suggestive remarks and now his sense of self-importance appeared to have become even more inflated, telling anyone who would listen about how, if it hadn’t been for his ‘bravery and immense intellect’ Burrows would still be alive and murderers would be out on the street. She agreed that he had done a good job but he didn’t need to throw it in her face every five minutes, mainly because she didn’t want reminded about how Michael had played her.
“Phone for the ambulance now or I tell Pope you were trying to contribute to an inmate’s possible death.”
A pig-like snort of a laugh followed; “if it was that time of the month Sara you just had to warn us. You; go phone.”
Resisting the urge to punch him and everyone else that was laughing and satisfied that the phone call was being made by a lackey she returned to the room, surprised and relieved that there hadn’t been an outbreak of fighting in the minute that she’d been gone. She knelt back down in front of T-Bag, feeling his wrist to check for his pulse when she heard him moaning lightly, his eyelids beginning to flutter.
“Move out of the way whore,” she turned her head to see Michael shoved out of his position, a member of the purity gang sitting down where he had been; “hey T, can you hear me?”
“Riley you need to keep your distance.”
“Well what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“He was fine before… in the line… he just said that his wrist hurt.”
“Well convicts tend to down play their injuries; think that it makes them look like macho men.” Another groan from T-Bag followed before his body went limp again.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen was it?”
“No but he’s stopped losing blood and the ambulance is on its way. Don’t worry so much, just sit here and make sure no one moves him.” She deliberately left out that she suspected that he had only stopped losing blood externally and that Riley should be worried. But there was nothing more that she could do and there were more than a dozen inmates who still needed her attention.
She stepped past Riley, stooped over his master’s body and felt her own blood run cold; she hadn’t done her doctor’s dialogue with Michael about the rape and if the whore’s were calling him a whore there was more than a chance he had been repeatedly attacked, especially with how possessively T-Bag had been holding him moments before.
She knelt down in front of him, picking up the discarded equipment and continuing to stitch his arm, the chatter among the other prisoners still loud enough that she was able to keep her conversation private; “how are you coping?”
“Fine,” he was still looking towards Riley and T-Bag, barely seeming to notice that she was stitching him.
“I mean in general Michael,” the phrase caught his attention as he looked at her, the trademark innocent smile barely etched into his features again.
“I thought you didn’t care anymore.”
“What Riley said…” his expression became blank and she was unsure how to say it delicately, toying with a few sentences in her head before deciding on one, “have you and T-Bag been getting more acquainted?”
“Acquainted?” After a momentary pause he realised what she was talking about, “it only happened once.”
“Michael I need to know if it has become a regular occurrence, I can help you; get Pope to send you somewhere safe.”
“It happened once, I promise.”
“Okay.”
She pulled away again, the stitches finished as a knock arrived on the door, Bellick popping his head around.
“Ambulance will be here in around five more minutes.”
“Yes, thank you.” She began to make her way over to another inmate, expecting that Bellick would have gone back to his buddies when she heard his throw-away comment.
“Don’t see why that paedo should get the damn ambulance.”
“What the hell did you say?” One of the gang members had stood, eyes blazing at the insult.
“Whatever I wanted to say con!”
“Please don’t do this,” Sara half-whispered the words, sure that nobody could hear her and knowing that it wouldn’t have made a difference if they had. Bellick’s eyes were already glinting with enjoyment at the situation.
“You and I both know that nobody would miss that filth if he were to die right now, apart from his little sluts who’d need to find someone else to cuddle up to on those long cold nights.”
Sara closed her eyes, blocking out the images of the convict launching himself at Bellick, instantly beaten back down by over-zealous guards. “Finish fixing him up Doc, he’s getting a week in the SHU.”
Sara opened her eyes, nodding to keep the peace, going back to her rounds as Bellick left, checking on a set of what looked like badly broken fingers.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be; she tried to distract herself from her own thoughts by focusing on the task at hand but she couldn’t help from thinking about where she had expected to be by now. A bigger apartment, a loving boyfriend and possibly even a kid but she’d thrown it all away, reduced to begging for a role as a doctor in an all-male prison. If Pope hadn’t felt sorry for her she wasn’t sure she’d even have managed to get this far back on track.
She finished with the fingers, going back to check on T-Bag’s condition, making a mental note that there hadn’t been any changes and trying to move away without looking at Michael but he managed to catch the corner of her eye, making her heart sink again. He just reminded her about how wrong she was capable of becoming, of how much more she was capable of wrecking her own life.
“Doctor Tancredi?” She was jolted out of her thoughts by the paramedics coming into the room, Bellick close behind them who waved his gun in the air and reminded the inmates that if they ‘moved a muscle it’ll be the last thing you do.’
“Yes; this way,” she led them over to T-Bag; “was involved in a riot less than twenty minutes ago, at first appeared coherent and capable of moving unaided. Only apparent injury is a heavily damaged left wrist but he began to cough blood and then lapsed into unconsciousness. Seemed to regain partial awareness but passed out again.”
“Thanks,” the paramedic smiled at her sympathetically, and she smiled back as T-Bag began to get loaded onto a stretcher before Bellick’s voice, now defiantly grating on her nerves, butted in.
“You’ll wanna be careful with this one, he’s sickest of the sick...”
“That’s not helping Bellick.”
“Kind that likes little kiddies, rumour has it the kind who like’s little kiddies long after their deaths as well...”
“Bellick!” She couldn’t help the rise in her voice as she saw the paramedic’s face turned from ashen to pure white; he didn’t need to be frightened of his job, although she assumed that he would be now, even though two of the guards would be accompanying the ambulance and there would be policemen waiting at the hospital to escort him in the building, the handcuffs only removed when he would be transferred from the stretcher to the bed.
“I couldn’t do it you know, working around guys like this, you must be like, Xena or something” she giggled at the paramedic’s joke, extending her hand before realising that she was getting in the way and withdrawing it.
“Sara.”
“Christian Mitchell.”
T-Bag securely fastened to the stretcher she watched as he was taken out, the guards and the paramedics disappearing with him. She breathed out heavily, trying to get rid of the stress when she heard Bellick yet again.
“There you go Sara, got rid of one of the bastards for you. No need to thank me but how about you and me go out some time hmm? Only, after you’ve finished with the crimson tide.”
The deep-breathing didn’t work but she felt the stress begin to dissolve as she erupted, her face crumpling into a scowl, “just so you know, you and me is never going to happen. Partly because I find you physically repulsive, partly because you have a personality more despicable than that of half the people in this room right now and partly because I suspect that your idea of a date would involve going Dutch at a Burger King. And for your information I am not angry because I’m on my period because I’m not on my period! I’m angry because I have to spend my team dealing with leeches like you and even when I know that everyone in this building is a leech I still manage to get my heart broken!”
She sighed, feeling her hands shake at what she had just admitted. She hadn’t meant to, it had slipped out and, with every single person in the room staring directly at her she would have given anything to be able to take the words back again.
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Post by scofield72 on May 9, 2007 19:54:20 GMT 1
Fantastic, as usual, and anyway, whats wrong with going a bit mad, that's the whole point of PB anyway!!! lol
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Post by Audio Pineapple on May 9, 2007 20:12:49 GMT 1
 Thanks (If I keep writing like this I'll turn myself into a MiSa fan!) |
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Post by scofield72 on May 9, 2007 20:14:53 GMT 1
lol, well theres plenty of room for you to join!!!! lol
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Post by Audio Pineapple on May 9, 2007 20:20:49 GMT 1
Nah, I don't mind them too much but it is fun to write!
Although I did enjoy writing her tellling Bellick off - I was feeling a bit 'grr' myself when I did that - it kinda shows lol!
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Post by scofield72 on May 9, 2007 20:24:08 GMT 1
Ha ha, that was funny, someone needed to tell him off!!! lol
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Post by Audio Pineapple on May 9, 2007 20:38:10 GMT 1
Oooh I managed funny? (woo!)
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Post by Audio Pineapple on May 13, 2007 15:34:15 GMT 1
Very short chapter today - didn't feel up to writing lots.
Chapter 16
“He’s going to be fine.”
Michael shivered, lying on his bed and listening to the heated conversation occurring in the cell next to him. He pulled the sheet up over his head, trying to block out the voices but knowing that it would never work. Everything seemed heightened now that he was alone. Now that he couldn’t hear Sucre snoring or making idle conversation.
Pulling the sheet down Michael chanced a look at the sink, there was a pad of paper near it; Sucre had been working on another letter to Maricruz, saying how this one would make her fall in love with him again.
“Don’t know that Riley.”
“Sara said…”
“It doesn’t matter what Tancredi said. People don’t just start coughing blood and magically recover.”
“She said that he was going to be okay and I believe her.”
“Then it’s your loss.”
“Just ask the whore-next-door; he was there, he heard Sara.”
A moment later Michael heard a sharp, high-pitched whistle followed by the view of a hand waving outside the edge of his cell. “Michael?”
He stood up, walking over to the wall, “I have a name?”
“Don’t bother listening to Riley; he doesn’t have much respect for guys like you. I need you to tell me what Tancredi said.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Oliver Rackham.”
“I know that from somewhere…” he trailed off, trying to remember.
“Yeah, no time for that. I’m the guy who kicked T out of the group unless he attacked you. Didn’t think he’d do it really but I guess people are full of surprises. Now, what did Tancredi say?”
“And why should I be helping you?”
“Because I know you stabbed Fernando,” Michael’s blood ran cold, “and if I tell Pope that means a whole lot of hassle for you. Luckily I know how to keep any other witnesses quiet. Also because I have a whole collection of friends who would really like to hurt you just because. Have I come up with a reason why you should be helping me yet?”
“She said he’d be fine.”
“Damn it.”
“See? I told you he’d be fine!”
“Shut up Riley. Oi Michael, sure he’ll be fine?”
“It’s what she said.”
“Any idea of when he’ll be back?”
“No.”
“Guess there’s still time to take over the prison and push him out for good then.”
“Scofield, Pope wants to see you.” Michael moved away from the wall, stepping back so that the guard could open the door.
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Post by Dingley on May 14, 2007 11:12:01 GMT 1
OOOooo another 2 great episodes! Love the burger king bit - really funny and I can imagine him doing that too! Great work as always AP. Wonder what Pope is going to say!
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Post by scofield72 on May 14, 2007 19:15:21 GMT 1
Oh, what's gonna happen??? It was fab, again!! I can't wait to find out what happens next!!!
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Post by Audio Pineapple on May 14, 2007 19:53:51 GMT 1
I'd forgotten about the burger king bit - thought you were talking about Tweener for a moment! I hated the latest episode (  ) but thanks lol |
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Post by Audio Pineapple on May 19, 2007 21:04:22 GMT 1
Right, I'm here... I'm oh so late but I am here!
Chapter 17
“Scofield’s here,” Michael heard the guard talking to Pope’s back and tried to calm his breathing. He had a feeling that he wasn’t being brought in to make sure that structures were properly propagated anymore.
“You can leave us.” The guard obeyed and Pope turned around, “sit.”
Michael sat immediately, folding his hands on his lap to stop them from jittering, wondering what he had been brought in for and silently praying that it wasn’t to do with Sucre’s death.
“You have a nephew right; Lincoln Junior?”
“Yes.”
“Currently a suspect in two murder charges; his mother I believe.”
“Yes.” He managed to refrain from shouting that LJ was innocent, even though he had detected a note in Pope’s voice that he was sure equated to ‘like father, like son.’
“The prosecutors are talking about sending him to an adult prison for this…”
“But he’s only fifteen!” He didn’t know why he sounded so shocked, they were probably still punishing his family because of him, and, unfortunately for LJ, he was part of the family.
“I know,” for a moment Michael could hear Pope’s old sympathy coming through again but it was quickly replaced by a coldness that seemed less real than it had done just moments before, “but they’re arguing that there was an over-zealous use of malice and that he had planned everything beforehand. They found notes in a diary.”
“Yeah I bet they did,” Michael ignored the quizzical look he got from Pope and allowed him to continue.
“The reason I brought you in here was that, as his last remaining next of kin I had a question for you. I pulled some strings and they agreed to let Lincoln Junior come to Fox River if you want him here.”
“No!” Images of LJ meeting T-Bag had suddenly screamed through his mind, making his breathing spike with adrenaline-laced fear.
“If he was here you’d be able to protect him.”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t.”
“Are you sure you don’t want…”
“No… I mean no thank you.”
Pope nodded, “there’s also the fact that you’ll be changing cellmates after what happened in the riot. I’m sorry about that; I’d heard that you were close to Sucre.”
“I know; Bellick gets to choose who I stay with.”
“Well in light of recent attacks, both at you and in general it doesn’t seem sensible to delegate cell selection in this case. Is there anyone in particular you had in mind to share with?”
Michael searched his mind, trying to think of someone who he could feel safe with. Abruzzi was out because he hadn’t done what had been asked of him, C-Note wanted to kill him, he wished that T-Bag wanted to kill him and he didn’t want to be around Tweener if it was true that he had told Bellick. Suddenly an idea came to him, “Greg.”
“Greg who?”
“Gregory Jones; he doesn’t seem to want to kill me and he isn’t a violent inmate.”
“Actually he’s in here for murder.”
“He is?”
“Poisoned his English Literature teacher at college,” at Michael’s shocked face Pope couldn’t help letting out a laugh, “it’s always the quiet ones. He’s in for twenty years. Still sure about that cell swap?”
“Yeah.”
“Well that’s all there is for now,” he moved to the door to let the guard in but Michael called out to stop him.
“Have you heard anything about T-Bag yet?”
“Broken wrist and some internal bleeding; he’ll be back in three days.”
Michael nodded, he didn’t want T-Bag to come back but as scared as he was of him Rackham scared him even more.
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