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[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Party

That was your first Federal Christmas Party since you joined the administration department of the Bureau.

You felt like high school all over again, too cowardly to ask your crush to dance or even interact with him. Of course your crush being Agent Stuck-up Alexander Mahone didn’t help, but that didn’t lessen your shame as you sipped on some cheap Champagne. Alone, standing near the window.

You didn’t know he felt the same, at the opposite side of the room, with Felicia trying to push him into trying to speak to you.

————————

That year the Bureau really invested in some good decorations, Alex noticed, and in the catering.

Alex also noticed how the music was not the usual, pompous Orchestral version of every single Christmas song in existence. Oh no, it was bubbly and rhythmical, with a little drum under the violins and trumpets, sending the hall and the people in it back to the classical fifties.

It gave him a reason to slightly sway on his feet, gently tapping on the side of the glass in his hand.

"Are you listening to me or you're ignoring me in hope I'll drop the subject?"

Alex also noticed the hint of annoyance in Felicia's voice, but it wasn't worthy of his attention, focusing instead on a very important wrinkle in one of the napkins.

Alex noticed a lot of things, it came with the job he was so good at, and stubbornly he took in every single detail of the sparkly hall...beside one, single spot, near one of the big windows overlooking the gardens.

His brain couldn't fathom to even dare watch in that direction.

Felicia sighed beside him, in her champagne satin dress. "You can't continue like this, Alex. You're acting like a preschooler!" She whispered slightly, leaning towards him.

The woman gave him a nudge with her elbow, using her chin to point something at the man.

"C'mon, she's not even looking this way!" "And…? I don't care if she looks here or not…!" came the hissed reply.

Felicia gave out a snort, hiding her face behind her hand, shaking her head. "You can't stand there and gaze at the glasses–" "forty seven on this table, thirty-two on the next over." He was almost ashamed how quick he gave the answer to that. "You counted the glasses, Alex…?" she groaned. "You counted the glasses, probably the tiles and repainted the walls with your mind…but you most likely don't even know what she looks like, today!" Alex rolled his eyes, turning his head away to try and hide the blush on his face from the keen eyes of his friend. "That's bullshit, it's not...o-of course I know, like I know Richard has one of those horrible Christmas sweaters…" his voice lowered in a growl, as Sullins laughed half-drunk near one of the tables.

To prove her point more, Felicia made a gesture towards the other side of the ball room. "Well, what dress does she have, then?" She asked with a slight smirk on her lips, knowing the answer wouldn't come.

Alex tried with all his might to find another way out of that situation. He could slink away, lose Felicia in the crowd and go moping on the terrace in peace.

Or he could just melt into the floor and disappear from the face of the Earth.

But the more he thought of an exit from that torture, the more a little, dark spot in his brain whispered.

"Just a looksy, Alex. She's right there by the window and you know...just a glance and Felicia will be out of your hair for good…! Be a man!"

The voice was half-right, Alex knew she was there, (otherwise he wouldn't have avoided the spot like the plague) but knowing and knowing were two different things.

With a swing from the champagne glass, Alex gulped down a good sip of liquid courage and finally careened his eyes on the mysterious spot.

The glass stilled against his lips, as if he froze in time when his gaze finally landed her form: her hair braided in a soft up-do, with some locks contouring her sweet face. She had this dreamy stance, while looking out of the window, with the phantasm of a smile on her plush, rose-tinted lips.

Alex managed to forget how to swallow when his eyes roamed down, past the thin golden chain caressing her collarbones and finally noticing her dress: a beautiful, form-fitting halter dress, the velvet making the shade of red change from blood to a more typical Christmas red.

She looked straight out of a fifties' movie, with her hand holding the champagne glass up to her chest and her hips moving just slightly with the rhythm of the song.

The glass in her hand then went up to her lips and Alex felt a needle prick in the middle of his chest, the sudden wish to be that glass and feel her warm lips on his own.

Then something changed and the man could see every little sign that anticipated it, but didn't have the mental presence to do something about it. She turned her head away from the window, her back and shoulders twisting gently in the motion, and her big, shiny doe eyes went straight to their target, pinning Alex in place.

She looked back at him.

Like the good soldier he was, Alex opted for a quick retreat and his clear blue eyes yanked themselves off her form, finally remembering to lower the glass from his own mouth.

Felicia was smirking even more. "Now that the ice is broken, why don't you go say hello?" She spoke calmly, but to Alex she could've been the Devil tempting him to kill everyone in sight.

The slight panic made him tense up and his knuckles paled a little around the champagne glass. "I'm fine right here…" he tried to reply, but Felicia was having none of it.

The woman took the glass directly from Alex's fingers and wedged her body behind him with the excuse to put it on the table, effectively pushing him forward.

"C'mon! Stop dawdling and go!"

"Ok ok stop pushing..!"

Felicia chuckled as her friend's voice came in a strangled, panicked, higher note.

––––✨––––

"But the prettiest sight to see~

Is the holly that would be~

On your own front door~"

She had mouthed the song here and there, while looking outside the window.

She hoped for some snow, just the ultimate touch for the most beautiful evening in her life.

She managed to organize everything down to the smallest detail, from music to what food to serve and how to serve it.

Then he arrived as she was fixing the last plates on the tables with the rest of the staff, his presence rending her a heap of fumbling mess.

In a flurry of 'sorry' and 'excuse me' she tried to stop her fingers from trembling, but the damage was done the second her eyes landed on a wooly dark trench coat, when the man waltzed through the main entrance.

Using all her strength, she yanked her attention from the man and hid herself among other staff until she knew everything was in place.

It took her one hour to get prepared then, dressing in her favorite dress and putting on a sliver of gold makeup, and finally she went to enjoy the party...or at least drink something and stare outside, not very keen on socializing.

Her brain was rewinding over and over again the elegant form of Mahone still impressed in the back of her eyes: the long coat waving slightly behind him as he walked up the carpeted stairs. A thin, dark-gray scarf hanging limp around his neck, not useful once inside.

His face had been turned to talk with someone behind him, giving her the sharpest edge of his cheekbones and his greek profile.

Suddenly a little tickle itched at the back of her neck, disturbing her from her daydreaming. Someone was watching, probably asking themselves what she was doing there at the window, when refreshments and the dancing floor were the other way around.

The woman slowly took the glass to her lips, a common way to give herself courage to look, and her eyes quickly scanned the direction where she felt those eyes coming from.

It was him.

He was looking at her.

Her heart leaped out of her chest when her own eyes sank deep in the clear blue of his, cheeks burning off her skull in the process.

Oh God why was he looking at her?

Her hair was messy? A smudge of food on her face?

As soon as the questions popped up, his glaciers waved away, landing somewhere towards the dancing crowd. That gave her the seconds necessary to take in the absolute landscape that was the man: not only his entrance had been stylish, but underneath the coat he had hidden the best.

One would say that Alex Mahone in a suit was old news, being a Federal and requiring a dress code in the office… oh she would utter otherwise, as her eyes met thick burgundy wool.

Alex went casual-smart, wearing a luxurious turtleneck together with a warm gray suit, the jacket closed on the front to form a nice red V on his chest.

She barely had the mental presence to move her gaze away when a movement caught her attention.

Felicia was there, in a light satin dress flowing down her curves with the elegance of a noble woman.

Of course Felicia was Alex's plus one... what was she thinking? The rumors in the office were clear, there was something between the two that went over the sterile professional relationship with coworkers.

The way she waved around him, taking the glass out of his grasp, was way more than camadery…

She sighed, going back to watch outside the clear window, a heavy sadness tampering with her usual bubbliness for the Christmas season. What did she even hope for? That Alex Mahone, hardcore federal agent and newly divorced bacelor would find her attractive? He went for the brain, he looked and acted like a man wanting their women at their same level...and she wasn't as sharp as Felicia was.

"Oh well" she sadly said to herself "way to spoil the evening! Good job me!"

Another sip was taken to soften the burn in the chest with the burn in the throat, but didn't help much. The sting of tears threatened her makeup, for a couple of seconds, and the view outside the window grew foggier.

"Stop being stupid, you knew fully well that it was a hopeless–".

Her brain's mutterings shut up the instant a voice cleared behind her back. "Nice evening, isn't it?" A smooth, whispery voice followed, one she knew by heart after months of listening to it.

The window reflected Alex's figure, his sharp shoulders contoured by the golden lights behind them. "Finally some decent music this year." He added, hands well sunken inside the pockets of his dress pants.

She turned around, looking up to him as she clutched the glass in both her hands, trying to stop them from trembling.

He never stood that close before and now, being in the radius of his marvelous cologne, sent her into a deep frenzy.

Alex was waiting for her reply, his head slightly leaning towards his shoulder, and she knew she had to say something...say something! "Y-yeah, it was either change or no music at all...admin got so much flak last year the higher-ups gave us free reign..!"

She inwardly facepalmed, when she noticed how she had literally blabbered at him about the disorganized inner workings of government administration…

While she was furiously trying to find something else to say, something smart and charming, Alex softly laughed, turning his head sideways for a moment, as if hiding his own smile. "So we had a level up in entertainment because of complaints, that's the gov alright," he replied. "So, who pitched in the good ol' fifties?".

Her cheeks caught fire almost immediately and her head sank between her shoulders, turning away her gaze. "I...since no one was having good ideas I...took charge, so to speak. It was my idea…"

"Yeah that's the spirit! Gloat like a fool, that will surely grab his attention!" Her inner voice was dripping with sarcasm, the usual 'put-down' now in full force.

But instead of raising one brow as Mahone would do when in front of a bullshitting suspect… he chuckled. "Well, if it was your doing, you certainly know how to dance to this music, mh?"

Her heart lost track of its own beats for a good, long moment. "...Dance?" She whispered between panic and bafflement.

Alex slid a hand out of his pockets and presented his palm to her, a silent request hanging in the air.

She watched the hand as if it could bite, cheeks now redder than Rudolph's nose. "I... I'm not a very good dancer," her voice squeaked, fingers gripping harder on the glass.

One moment of silence, surely a psychological tactic on Alex's part, and she sighed a little, leaving the champagne on the window sill.

Unsure, her hand reached for his and he gently wrapped his fingers around her small palm. His skin was so warm, soft with calluses only where a gun would find its place in his grip.

Like a fire, his warmth spread down her arm and up to her heart, setting alight her entire core. "I'm not a good dancer either, but I'm sure we'll do alright." Alex replied with a tender voice, his smile the brightest light in the room.

She didn't even know he was following him until she found herself surrounded by other people, right in the middle of the dance floor. Panic set for a moment, images of her stumbling mess hitting other guests or crushing Alex's feet flashing in her mind, but Mahone saved her from sinking deeper in his very own way.

Stopping in front of her, he slowly changed the position of their interlocking hands and snaked his other arm around her waist without embracing her. His fingers hovered right where the deep plunge of her dress formed a V on her back, their warmth prickling at her skin. "I know the basis, at least." Alex smiled timidly.

And like that they danced, their bodies finding the rhythm of the playing song.

They both moved around on the dance floor together with the other dancers, like a flock of multicolored birds bending and turning in the dawning sky.

She found herself gliding across the floor with Alex, her feet almost scraping his ones from time to time, but never stomping them.

Was it his agility that saved him from a heel in the toes or was she really a decent dancer? She couldn't even compute an answer to that mystery, with how close Alex was to her.

At first, in their waving and turning, his frame was detached from hers, chest a span away from breast. But the more they danced, the more Alex neared.

His hand on her back was not hovering anymore, but now laid its warm palm on her exposed skin, right against the dip of her spine.

In contrast, her own hand snaked from the outer edge of his shoulder to its most inner side, sliding down until her palm was above his heart.

Her nerves slowly receded, the freed space now filling with an unknown sense of familiar.

A slow euphoria that blurred everything around them, leaving only patches of colors: gold shimmered against the burgundy, blues and whites and greens whirled around in a synchronized carousel.

Everything came to a fading halt when the music changed and Mahone stopped both of them on the other side of the dance floor, where big red drapes were installed between the gold-white columns holding up the second floor balcony.

His breath was slightly heavier, but his eyes were looking at her with the softest of smiles and his arms holding her snaked tighter around her.

She too was lightly panting, emotions engulfing in her chest the more she took in his elated expression. "So much for not being a good dancer…" he whispered with his husky, low voice, making her cheeks flush all over with a new gradation of reds.

He then lost his smile, his face contorting doubt and almost embarrassment. "Y/N…" he called out, the hand holding hers leaving her fingers alone to grasp at the air.

She could see his lips moving to open and then close again, slitting tight as his eyes flickered down and then up to her eyes again.

Panic started to buzz at the back of her mind, asking herself what she had done to wipe that rare happiness from his face. "Uhm…y-...yes Alex..?" She whispered back.

"See? You ruined everything again. Look at him, look what you've done you disgusting idiot..! He was so happy and you ruined–"

Suddenly the sharp, angry voice in her mind evaporated, as Alex's warm hand landed softly on her face, fingers following the shape of her jaw as his thumb caressed her cheek.

He didn't speak, words stuck in his throat like a big nervous lump, but his actions screamed more clearly than any word he could come up with. He leaned down, the fingers on her back slightly curling, and as his eyes closed so did hers, completely drowning in the moment.

His lips brushed hers, light and soft and warm, in a kiss lasting centuries.

Her heart jumped in her neck and thumped so hard she could feel the strain of her rips.

He was kissing her.

Not a simple peck, but a long, heartfelt kiss, with a hint of fear in his trembling hands.

Her hands moved to sink in the hair of his nape and kissed him back, grateful for the most precious Christmas gift she could receive.

[writingmorsels]

When your hunting for Scofield and Burrows brings you into a beast-infested town with a side of cthulhian horrors...but you still need to keep it stylish

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Surprise...?

One year after the happenings with The Company, you and Alex have finally found kind of an equilibrium. You two have bought a house together in some white-picked-fence neighborhood and you were even thinking about adopting a pet, to fill out the house. Well, you're gonna fill the house alright, but not with an animal.

You've been under the wind for a while now and it was frustrating.

You were temporarily the only breadwinner in the house, while Alex tried to have his old job back, and responding to a dispatch call while retching on your toilet wasn't the greatest feeling to start the day with.

You stopped a fight between two very angry, very 'I want to see your manager' looking women. You had to do a welfare check for an old man that almost shot you in the head with a sawed off shotgun. You had to respond to a domestic violence report only to discover it was for a couple really into roleplay.

You were tired.

Legs like jelly, you barely managed to reach for the bathroom before you could empty the contents of your stomach against the porcelain for the upteenth time that week.

Alex didn't know any of that and for a good reason: he already crucifixed himself for not being able to regain his job or any job really, because of his past. He didn't have to worry about your health, either. He was already a sweetheart with you as is.

It was just a stomach bug, you had worse.

Besides, Alex was busying himself at home while you were back on the field: he kept the house clean, did the laundry and, especially, he finally learned to cook something other than 'reheat bought stuff into the microwave'.

The first dishes were… okay. Edible.

But lately he managed to make something actually delicious… and it all ended up in the gutter, after you had another episode.

You came out of the precinct bathroom and flopped onto the nearest chair, at dispatch's station. "Ugh, someone got smashed yesterday or what?" You heard one of your coworkers joke and you groaned back to him, massaging your aching stomach. "Shuddup Mitchell... it's a stomach bug I can't shake off," you whined a little, making the man smirk. "Oh, so you don't wanna meet the recent reject from K-9? He was so eager…!" and a yapping sound made you perk up again. At your feet was a German Shepherd puppy, the fluffiest and cutest you ever seen.

Your eyes lit up as you bent down, meeting with the jumpy, shaky, ecstatic pup. “Oh my God you so cute! Awww yiss you aaare!” your voice came out as a high-pitched mess, almost mimicking the puppy’s yapps.

Your hands went to grab him underneath his front paws and hoisted him up, laughing as the little doggie started to lick your face.

Needless to say, not even ten minutes later you were sitting on the chair with the now sleepy pup melting into the crook of your elbow.

He had his front paws folded on themselves and he was nuzzling against your chest with small little snores coming from his nose. "He sure warmed up to you quickly!” Mitchell laughed, seeing the dog relaxed “Ready to bring him home already?"

Mitch knew of the cat-dog debacle in your home, so it came natural for you to ask him to keep him in the K-9 kennels for a little while. “I still have to speak with Alex about it… but I’m sure he would love him. Look at him…! Aww sho tired, good boy!” your attention went back to the puppy again, feeling him turn a little into your baby-hold.

You were having the time of your life, for once not even remembering your terrible mornings. “Aww, you’re practicing?” a voice joked and you moved your head to see one of your friends from dispatch, Lauren, approaching her desk.

You smiled, confused. “Practicing?” “Yeah! For the baby!” she replied to your question, pointing a finger towards the sleepy puppy in the crook of your elbow.

Baby?

“What are you talking about?” your voice came out with a slight hint of fear in its tone and Lauren giggled, putting her coffee down just so she could grab her headset. “Morning sickness, it never changes! In my second pregnancy it was even worse! If you want, I can give you a recipe for a miraculous smoothie."

You froze on the spot, her words hitting you so hard they almost knocked you over; all slowly came together with the nausea first thing in the morning, the strange tiredness, the moodiness that seemed to anticipate a shark week that never came.

Lauren noticed your uncomfortableness and furrowed her brows. “What’s wrong?” “N-no!...no I’m...it’s- I've changed pills recently, I’m not...” you lied through your teeth, eyes large as eggs and skin going a little pale.

You felt nauseous again, for different reasons.

You didn't even think about the possibility of…

Yeah your shark week still wasn't nowhere to be found, but you were only just a little late, it happened all the time. You were just...stressed.

That wasn’t the time nor the place to be pregnant. If you got stuck in maternity, how would you two pay for bills and food?

And Alex...oh your poor darling, after a year he still wasn't over Cameron's death and you wouldn't blame him.

You couldn't give him another heartache like that, giving him another child like some kind of substitute.

He would start spiraling down again like after everything ended with the Company, when he finally stopped worrying and let himself grieve.

You couldn’t do that to him, no no no...

With panic starting to fizzle in the back of your brain you watched Lauren, who looked amused. "Oh I get it! Yeah, changing those is always a pain…!" she shrugged before taking a sip of her coffee, booting up her computer.

Even Mitchell felt the awkwardness of the moment, because he broke it by leaning forward and grabbing the pup from your arm. “I’ll keep him for a little more, alright! No problem…!” the man smiled forcefully at you, silently asking if you were fine.

You were not fine.

The doubt had been planted.

On your way home you stopped by the nearest pharmacy and after grabbing an antiemetic from over the counter, you stopped in front of the rows and rows of pregnancy tests, uneasy and confused.

Old style? Electronic? Did the type change something? Did it matter?

"Fuck this…" you muttered as you bought a random one.

During the rest of the drive home you felt that little plastic thing weigh on your passenger seat like a block of cement, the pastel-colored box peaking through the paper bag, laughing at you with it’s ‘oh the joy of motherhood!’ packaging design.

Of course if things would’ve been different, you would’ve been thrilled. Having a family with the love of your life was something you always desired.

You would’ve been so happy to give Alex another baby, give Cameron a little brother or sister. Unite their fractured family once again.

Instead, you now had to suffer all that psychological turmoil, because of the Company.

Even after their defeat, they managed to give anguish to you all.

When you finally arrived home you parked in the driveway and waited for a second, for two. Waiting for someone to pop out from outside the frame and yell "That was a joke, there's the camera!".

Nothing moved but you, as you got off the car and trudged inside.

You passed the front door and approached the small table near the entrance, slowly removing part of your gear, one piece at the time.

The radio, the gun, the handcuffs with their keys, your hat and your boots. Everything found its place while your mind was still in utter chaos.

The only thing still glued to your fingers was the small brown paper bag from the pharmacy. "Welcome back honey!" You heard Alex’s voice come out of nowhere, right next to your ear, and you gave out a shrill yelp, grasping at your chest like trying to stop your heart from pounding out of it. "Alex!" You heaved as you turned, seeing him grinning down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "For fuck's sake you gave me a heart attack! Stop being sneaky when I come home!" You added, watching him now starting to laugh uncontrollably, a half apron around his hips and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He was cooking you dinner, as always… sweet bastard. "One of these days I'm gonna shoot you by accident–" "That's why I wait until you're unarmed…!" Alex chuckled back, leaning down to kiss you hello.

You replied in kind, sighing just a little against his lips when they met. "What's that?" you felt him reach for your hand, grabbing the paper bag from your grasp. You came back to reality and his hand on your hip suddenly felt uncomfortable.

You immediately reached back and yanked the bag from him before he could even look inside, taking your forbidden loot to your chest. "Ladies have their secrets…!" You tried to joke, to sell him the lie as best as you could.

You couldn't, but he didn't inquire for the moment. Alex only rose an eyebrow and watched you with his interrogation gaze, making you squirm a little. "Don’t look at me that way, mister! You don’t have to know all that happens to my little lady down there!" you tried to double down on being light and jokey, maybe letting a little frustration come through.

It was a half-truth, was it not? "Well I would love to be let in the loop… Maybe I could help you out with that," he spoke softly, his voice in a good spot between affectionate and erotic.

Out of instinct you took one step backwards, away from him. "No no! No one but my eyes have permission to gaze upon the horrors of some yeast infection...or shit like that" while holding the bag closer, you put a hand on his chest to push him away. “I’ll handle it...just…” your eyes wandered for an instant, thinking. “Just think of this a ‘biohazard zone’ for a couple of days, ok?” your free hand now waved in front of your crotch, making him chuckle. “As long as I can kiss you, I don’t have a problem with that,” he replied, stealing another quick peck from your lips. “Dinner’s almost ready hun, go get changed.” Alex then moved away, towards the kitchenette of your lovely home.

You didn’t wait more than a second before bolting up the stairs to the bathroom, clutching the box through the brown paper. For a moment you remained impressed by your bullshitting ability.

You bullshitted your way out of that situation like Michael Scofield strolled in and out of his jail cell at Fox River (Sucre told you several times about that at every chance he got, when you invited the whole gang over for the holidays).

Closing the door behind you, you aimed for the sink counter and dumped the content of the bag on top of, grabbing the furiatingly pale box and almost tearing it open. Your fingers trembled when you finally grabbed the white-and-pink stick.

It felt like a murder weapon, in your hands. “Ok...how do I…” you mumbled, scared.

You never even think about researching it, it was your very first encounter with something like that. Did you have to...stick it in?

You grabbed the flimsy instruction papers from deep inside the box and opened it, trying to find the right language to read it.

Oh…

You peed on one side and see the result on the other.

Simple, right?

Sure, technically it was as basic as it could come, but no one prepared you for the longest. Three minutes. Of your life.

You sat on the toilet after you did the do, holding the test flat as it was written and watching intently at the little white window.

You saw the first line starting to appear, coloring in a light blue, and your stomach started to churn again. “Please stop there, stop there, c’mon it's just a stomach bug, c’mon c’mon…!” you begged the little demonic stick, your knuckles turning pale for the sheer force you used to hold it.

Your blood thickened in your veins, when the second little line started to appear, the color deepening by the second.

"Oh no."

Oh no indeed. You had to call someone...and your mind immediately picked the best number to call.

"Thank you for coming... I didn't– I don't know what to do."

Sara Tancredi had sat herself in front of you, in the small diner you chose for your encounter.

Little one-year-old Michael had been sleeping in his stroller from the moment he and his mother came in. "No problem, I was around!" The woman smiled at you, her eyes already scanning you.

She saw the paleness of anxiety, cold sweat and dark circles. And the way you grasped at a small brown box like it contained a rabid beast. "What's the problem that Alex isn't allowed to know about?" Sara immediately asked and you shrank in your seat, looking guilty. "Why you thought–" "We're in a public place outside his usual zone, away from your place of work where he sometimes surprises you and you didn't explained over the phone while he was at home," she never dropped the smile, watching you with her seemingly sweet eyes...but you knew there was a tigress behind the gentle façade. "I…" "I've been a drug addict for a good portion of my life...and on the run the rest of it. I can recognize the signs, Y/n. Just tell me, I'm the last person who would judge you."

Slowly your fingers let go of the brown paper and pushed it towards her, across the table. Sara grabbed it, confused, and gasped a little when she saw the pregnancy test box. "You mean…?" She whispered, opening the box and immediately looking at the result window. "I had this stomach bug and–" "how many days are you late?" Sara immediately asked and you blinked, counting mentally. "Five-no, six days. It happens all the time, I didn't think I could be…" your voice trailed off as your favorite Doc smiled even brighter, letting the text down to hold your hands. "Is wonderful! Aw I'm so happy for–" "Sara, is not wonderful…!" You heaved, clawing at her hands. "I'm the only one with a job, a dangerous job. And-and Alex is still mourning his son, how can I...just waltz in and tell him 'here take a replacement'! I... don't know how he would react…"

Silence fell between you two for a long instant, where you felt ready to vomit.

You weren't ready for any answer, really. You didn't want Alex to know and you felt repulsion at the thought of aborting Alex's child, making him lose another.

Then, Sara sighed, patting your hands. "Listen... keeping this a secret is horrendous, for both you and Alex. You have to tell him." The woman tried to find your eyes, pulling at your hands to grab your attention. "Everything could happen, Y/n, especially in your line of work. What if you got wounded while hiding your pregnancy and the first doctor Alex will speak to will make his condolences because your child died? It could lead to a lot more drama…" Sara's usually bright eyes turned dark a little, her expression souring. "If… I never told Michael about his son, he would've died without knowing it... and I plan on telling my son who his father was. Please tell him, Y/n. He's a smart man, you will work this through as a couple…" The good doctor then smiled again, shaking the melancholy off her shoulders. "Think about it, if you decide to keep it, Mike will have a friend to play with!"

You had to wait at least three more weeks for your plan to work out.

The first week and a half were spent building up the courage to make the announcement.

In the remaining time, you studied on the internet how to do it in the best way.

Eating anti-emetic pills as if it was candy, you lied through your teeth when Alex asked if your little lady felt better, telling him that yes, you felt better.

You tried to act natural, but the more time passed, the more you felt sick and the more time you spent evading Alex, knowing he would grill an answer out of you if he ever suspected something.

After work, you spent as much time as possible driving around searching for the items you needed.

Sara agreed to accompany you to your gynecologist, making it look like a girls' day out. You and your baby were healthy, the doctor assured you, and the pregnancy was going well. "How come hubby's not here?" The doctor asked and you choked on your saliva. "W-well I'm... I'm planning a surprise for him and-" "aww dear that's so nice! What about taking the baby's first photo to add to the surprise?" The man cheered, prepping the machine.

Your hands shook around the freshly printed black and white photo, Sara laughing at your side and telling you to breathe.

You practically sat in front of the entrance door when you bought online one of the items you needed, grabbing the Amazon box like Gollum would do with his precious, running upstairs where you hid all away in your closet.

Then, THE Sunday morning came.

You two had a really intense, really intimate encounter the night before and Alex was still asleep on his side of the bed. His naked body was always a pleasure to see first thing in the morning, you thought as you rolled over to give him a soft kiss on his cheek. "Breakfast in bed…?" You asked in a whisper, obtaining a low 'yah' muffled in the pillow.

With a little chuckle you kissed him again, this time searching for his lips. “Stay here, I’ll do it.” and then you got off the bed, walking downstairs towards the kitchenette.

Everything had been hidden the night before in strategic places, knowing you'd be the first to come and open the cupboards: there sat a new mug you bought for the occasion, with a cheerful 'good morning handsome' written on the side.

As you grabbed it, you smiled a little when you read the other phrase etched and colored on the inside of the mug.

You're going to be a dad.

Heart, heart, heart.

Then, behind it, you grabbed a pair of boxes. One contained a shirt that you immediately donned, bold text reciting 'sending backup' on your chest.

The second remained closed and found its place on the tray you prepared on the island.

Coffee was made, mugs were filled and a plate of cookies was strategically placed on top of the thin box. Then up you went towards upstairs, where Alex was still enveloped in the blankets like a tired mummy.

You smiled against your anxiety, feeling your hands tremble while holding the tray and the teaspoons inside the mugs clinked as you approached.

You tried to remember Sara’s words, he loved you and you would work that through, as you put down the tray near the end of the bed, but when you bent down you felt your stomach churn again, reminding you that yes, you forgot to buy new antiemetics.

Grin and bear, grin and bear… “Good morning…!” you called in a little singsong voice, feeling your heart stop pounding in your ears when he opened his wonderful, glassy-looking blue eyes, still sleepy but oh so shiny. Gemstones filled with entire oceans. “G’morning honey…” he replied, voice husky and a little gruff, stretching his neck to reach for your lips.

The kiss had been gentle, sweet and warm, his lips still soft from a whole night of good sleep. “Coffee’s ready, c’mon...I brought up your favorite cookies, too.” you moved aside, letting him sit up on the mattress, but instead reached for your hand and pulled you closer for another barrage of soft little pecks. “Mmmh ‘m up,” he mumbled between kisses, eyes closed and body one step closer to fall asleep again.

Oh no you didn’t go through all that trouble for him to just sleep on it..! “You’re not up…! C’mon sleepyhead, before it gets cold!” you chuckled, sincerely amused by his weak try in seducing you back to sleep.

Alex huffed and almost dragged himself to sit up, scratching at his collarbone for an instant before his eyes would finally take in the content on the tray. “What’s the occasion?” he smiled confusedly, brows furrowed as he grabbed the new mug, chuckling as he read the outside.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him. “Well, we’ve been in kinda of a rough patch, lately...with too much job or no job at all,” you started to explain, putting a couple of fingers on the thin box so he couldn’t take it immediately. “This is...a gift...for you,” your voice cracked for a second, nervousness starting to show.

He saw that and for a moment Alex paused, mug mid-air.

“...it’s not a ‘sorry I cheated on you’, is it?”

The question came out maybe a little too harsh, Alex noticed only after the last word left his mouth, but he had that strange feeling that you were hiding something, for so long now.

You only snorted for the absurdity of the thought, shaking your head. “You wish! So you could dump my sorry ass and find yourself a rich cougar, uh?” you smiled, trying to ease his deep furrowed brow. “I’m not cheating, you should know-” “Then why have you dodged me for the last three weeks? I saw you talk to Mitch from K-9 a lot, last month” his husky voice came out with a tense curiosity in it.

“Eugh…!” you rolled your eyes. “Why do I stop talking to you about Christmas gifts two weeks before the twenty fifth? Because you spoil yourself with that smart brain of yours!” you grabbed a cookie from the platter and gently threw it at him, making him giggle just a smidge. Alex seemed appeased by your reply, taking another long sip of his coffee. “I would understand, if you cheated. I know I have a terrible personality, even if I try to-” his voice stopped all of a sudden, when his eyes focused on the bottom of the now nearly-empty mug.

His eyes shot back to you almost immediately, finally realizing what was written on your chest. “...that’s why!” he breathed. “That’s why you were all buddy-buddy with Mitch…! Oh no, Y/n, we already talked about it!” he almost whined, putting down the mug. “Don’t tell me you adopted one of the rejects from K-9...please tell me that’s not it…!” he added, a little desperate. “I love dogs, I do, but we’re rarely home one way or another and it would feel alone all day and it would destroy stuff and-” you stopped his rambling by handing him the thin box. “Open it,” you whispered, now nervous for his initial reaction.

If he seemed so negative about life with a dog, what would he say about a child…?

“Please don’t be a collar…” he muttered as his bony fingers removed the lid of the box.

His face became even more confused, as he saw a little square of fabric with some words written on them.

"What…" Slowly he brushed aside the crinkly paper and raised up what he thought was a shirt, but as the piece of clothing unraveled, his entire body froze, trying to compute what he was looking at.

A tiny, black onesie, soft as can be, with tiny little handcuffs on the front.

"Daddy's best backup" was impressed underneath the handcuffs, in bright pastel colors.

Alex didn't react for a good handful of seconds and now you knew how criminals felt while lining up for witness' identification. You never unglued your gaze from your lover, seeing him trying to understand, behind his clear, crystal eyes. You saw his hands tremble as he lowered the baby clothing, his attention passing from the fabric to yourself, then towards the box again.

A couple of fingers moved towards the ultrasound picture that you left on the bottom of the box, barely touching it before letting them sink again in the little onesie's softness. "Y/n…" he croaked your name and your chest went taut out of pure fear. "Is... you're telling me that...that you…" "y-yes" you immediately reply, as to cut short the torturous wait. "I -uhm… I took a couple of tests...and...a-all positive…" you managed to add, watching him sitting on the bed completely lost, as if the news didn't fully hit him.

He looked at the mug, then at the photo without stopping cuddling the tiny onesie with his fingers. "I... we're still in time if you...i-if you don't want–" "What?" He rounded his head towards you, as if snapping to reality.

You gulped, worried. "You...if you're not ready yet...we can wait...I could find a doctor, Sara will help me after the...t-the…" you stopped yourself from crying, the thought of losing the baby feeling like a wound opening in your very soul.

"What do you mean...not ready?" He then asked with a tender whisper. "I…" Alex gave out a shocked chuckle, but the corners of his mouth curled up in a smile. "I'm not the one pregnant with our baby, am I?" The word finally came out of his lips and the way he said it just melted your heart away, its panicked pounding now filling with warmth at every beat.

You watched Alex slowly fold the onesie again, this amazed and completely baffled expression on his face. "Because of Cameron…" you uttered, gripping at the hem of your t-shirt.

Every doubt you had, every fear, it poured out after that. Alex had always been your confident, your wise guide to ask for help and not being able to tell him your grudges for so long did a number on you, especially for something so important like a pregnancy. "I feared you would take this...as a replacement. Make you remember all over again…! I don't want you to….to fall back down in that dark place, Alex. I could never–" your voice gave out in a sob and immediately he seemed to turn back to his usual, protective self.

His hands grabbed the tray and moved it quickly on the other side of the bed, before taking both your hands and pulling you toward him. "Come here honey..." he called under his breath, enveloping you in his strong arms as you found place on his lap. One of his hands came up and started to gently stroke your nape, as the other wrapped around you.

For a moment, you didn't think of anything but his presence. His beating heart underneath his skin, finding your palm. His breath whispering in his lungs and falling onto the top of your head. "Listen... I'll never...never get over Cam. The death of a child is… devastating." He leaned slightly forward, completely hugging you with his frame. "And yes I was in a dark place… I got blinded by my pain and didn't see what I was causing you…and maybe I got addicted to my misery..." his hands shook against you, but he only pushed them a little harder to grip your clothes. "But don't you ever...ever think that I'll make you do something as horrible as abortion. I can't have you experience that kind of pain."

His lips came and kissed your hair, his whole body starting to tremble as well as his fingers. "And this...oh my God Y/n, I'm not accustomed to this kind of happiness anymore…!" Alex laughed now, his voice that stumbled for a moment in his throat. "And now I can't even... I can't find the words to describe how happy I am  right now..."

All of your anxiety melted away as he hugged you now even more. "So...we keep it?" "It's our baby! Of course we keep it!" He chortled at your question, now letting you go only to grab the onesie again, looking at it with tearful eyes, a bright smile on his face.

Alex brought the piece of clothing to his face and closed his eyes, to feel the softness of the fabric. "You always bring me the biggest joys in my life...even in my worst moments, you were there..." his glassy eyes opened again and found yours, the lights in them shining like a dawn after a long storm. "And now you gift me this miracle…our little miracle…"

Silence fell after his words, the speech hanging in the air like mistletoe at Christmas. Heartwarming, hopeful.

He always had his way with words, didn't he?

"This is way better than a dog..."

Sometimes his way with words was the dumbass way.

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Man Down

The search for Scofield and Burrows has reached its peak. The two convicts have found shelter in a car park building and are now heading towards the roof. You work with the police department aiding the federals capturing them and you're also maintaining a secret relationship with Alex Mahone. That fateful day you're in the backup squad when you hear through the radio Alex has started pursuit on his own. Worried about his well being, you ignore orders and launch yourself on his tracks to give him armed support.

Note: Y/sN = Your Surname

You were fixing the rest of your gear, slightly angry for being put into the most useless squad in existence: the Backup squad.

You didn't do years of Police Academy and Military Specialization only to end up in the Clean-Up Crew.

Again. For the third time during that case.

You had the slight suspect it might've been Alex's machinations behind the scenes, to keep you out of harm's way.

Oh, he would have a piece of your mind when that day was over. You didn't lose all your skills the day you two started dating, nossir!

Sighing, you gave a pat on every buckle on your riot uniform, counting then when made sure they were closed.

kksshhkt!

["To all units. Suspects moving"]

The radio came alive at your hip.

Your entire body jolted awake from its relaxed, if not even bored, state.

Your colleagues did the same: six foolish and playful men suddenly became cold soldiers, moving to approach the entrance of the parking lot. All waiting for the "go" word.

You reached them and took your place, a finger flicking open the latch that held your weapon.

Kshhkt!

["They're–kkhhsh–the roof! I'm going–shhhhkt–"]

["Alpha giving chase. Stand back until further notice"]

Your squad buds relaxed a little more again, the words of your Chief in command basically assuring them this will be another no-show for the Clean-Up Crew.

If Alpha was already on the suspects, they were not that much required.

The only one even tenser was you, after having listened to Mahone's voice underneath your Chief's.

You knew him and his Chase Fever: once he started, he would never disengage until he captured whoever was running behind. You didn't call him Malinois for nothing.

So you grabbed your radio and called Alpha team's leader, the one coordinating with Mahone for this takedown. "Just to make sure Alpha, Fed has gear?" Your tone didn't betray your worry, but a couple of your colleagues saw your face pale at Alpha's reply.

Khhsht!

["—Fuck's sake follow him!"]

["Too fast man…! Damn…"]

["Negative Delta. Fed has no gear and gave pursuit. FUCKING FOLLOW HI— "]

You felt your blood run cold when the radio fell silent suddenly.

The notion that Mahone was with no gear whatsoever gave you painful chills down your spine.

The next course of action for you was to call the Chief in command, since Mahone's radio wasn't picking up. "Chief, can't pick up Fed and Alpha got silent. Everything  ok?"

Khhsht!

["Alpha is down. Sniper, location unknown. Don't engage, I repeat don't engage!"]

A sniper? Alex was running on the heels of two dangerous convicts. Possibly armed.

Definitely desperate enough to kill.

And now there was a sniper too? If Alex died in another miscommunication between them, the CIA and the Feds, you swore to God…!

"That fucking idiot!" you blurted out as the radio found its place at your hip again, moving through your coworkers to reach for the door. "You heard Chief…!" One of them spoke, holding your arm in the process.

You turned around with fire in your eyes, yanking your arm free. "We have four men in full gear that just got downed and one in a fucking two-piece giving chase! He needs backup and if the sniper is still there then say a fucking prayer for me boys, because I'm going there!"

Your coworker watched you through his riot glasses and nodded, torn between following orders and doing what was right. "We could reach the roof from the east-side of the building, we’ll be covered by the overhang," One of them chirped from the back of the group, but your group leader shook his head. "We'll take too long–" you didn't hear any more than that.

Your feet barely touched the concrete as you ran up two flights of stairs, before reaching the door for the fourth floor, last known location for Alpha Team. Your colleagues were on the tarmac, black mounds scattered around the white lines of the car parking. “Guys…! Are you Ok? Lopez! Taylor!” you whispered while approaching, holding your weapon low and sporadically looking around for dangers.

When you reached the squad leader you saw his riot glasses shattered. Blood and bones and flesh were where once was his face, reduced to a pulp.

You kneeled down to check his pulse, hoping for a little light left in him, but the result was useless.

You checked everyone, placing fingers where you could to find a heartbeat that was snuffed away: each and every one had a bullet wound in the few vulnerable places a riot armor had. Eyes and neck, mainly, but poor Fox got the short end of the stick with a bullet exploding his femoral artery, making him bleed to death by the time you got there.

It had been a clean work, of a professional.

It wasn’t friendly fire.

“Oh no…” you heaved, a new wave of fear now making itself present. This was a work only highly-trained military men could do.

There was a rogue agent working for the brothers.

You immediately grabbed your radio and called in the rest of Delta Team, your voice shaking. “I checked Alpha...no one survived,” you muttered, now looking towards the door at the end of the parking lot. Open, probably left like that by Mahone as he followed the escapees.

Kshhhkt!

[“ Oh fuck! ”] [“ What?? ”]

[“Come back Y/sN, you’re gonna get yourself shot! We’ll figure out something with Chief”]

“I’m going on the roof. The Fed is still missing and we can’t lose another, today. Go around the other side and meet me up. Safety off the guns boys… Hilton, tell the Chief.”

With that, you ran.

You didn’t care how your boots slammed on the concrete of the next flight of stairs, nor did you care about the sound echoing against the walls. Your eyes were focused up the stairwell, towards the direction Mahone went.

At every landing your busted the door open, raising your gun and pointing chest-height, searching for the convicts and for Alex.

They weren’t on the next floor.

Or the next.

Or the next after that.

The steps started to blur together as your heavy breathing fogged up the bottom half of the riot glasses. Your legs started to get heavy and when a gunshot shattered the relative silence, you missed a step and hit the side of the next step with the tip of one steel-toed boot.

You fell on one knee coming to a screeching halt and looked up, towards the door left open a couple of landing above your head. “Fuck...c’mon…!” you hissed under your voice, hoisting yourself up and pushing to run faster now, a new mantra resonating in your brain.

“Please be his gun” “Please be his gun” “Please be his gun!”

Every step was a prayer, a wish to find him standing victorious above one or both convicts so you could walk up to him and slap his beautiful face raw for the horrible scare heー

Everything stopped. Your feet, your mind, your breath and your heart, when you reached the open door for the last floor: in slow motion you saw Alex sprawled on the tarmac and not Scofield or Burrows.

Your eyes transfixed on the blood still fresh pooling underneath his upper torso, then up to the two fugitive slinking away towards an exit kept open by a third person you didn’t recognize.

You moved out of training and habit, grabbing your gun and raising it to shoot one round of bullets towards the brothers. At the same time you used your open fire to reach Alex, trying to remain cold and collected.

But you couldn’t.

The sight of his unresponsive body was clawing at your heart, ice stabs sinking deep into you. “Alex…!” you called for him, hoping to see him raise his head even if slightly, but he didn’t move.

Fuck them, you thought as tears started to cloud your vision, and when your gun finally emptied its magazine, you chucked it aside and knelt down at Alex’s side. Seeing him up and close worried you even more now, seeing the gouging hole in his chest pissing blood all over his nice clothes.

You immediately went to push the heel of your palm against the hole, while you listened for his pulse. It barely held on, beating far and slow in the depths of his neck.

His blood pressure was plummeting by the second and if you didn’t do something, he would never reach the nearest hospital.

Still pressing the wound, you grabbed your radio, calling every channel you had. “MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN!” your voice came out like a roar. “FED COMPROMISED! I NEED AMBULANCE IMMEDIATELY ON THE LAST FLOOR!”

A barrage of voices came from the radio right after, from the Chief, Delta Team, even from dispatch, all saying more or less that they will converge on you immediately.

With that message delivered, you could finally start to panic, feeling Alex’s hot, sticky blood soak through your glove. You pushed aside the lapels of his suit jacket, and ripped off the buttons of his shirt to reach for the bullet hole. You saw it dangerously close to where his heart would beat underneath your ear, when you two slept together.

The stream of blood kept spurting out regularly, following the rhythm of the most important muscle of his body, a clear sign the bullet severed an artery. “Sorry love, I’ll buy you a new one,” you feverishly whispered as you ripped off a good chunk of his shirt, pressing the handful of fabric against his wound.

The light blue slowly turned to red, then almost to black when the blood started soaking that too. It didn’t stop, nor did you; snaking your free arm behind his shoulders, you grunted as you lifted his torso up, trying to use gravity as a means to keep what little blood he had left  inside his body. “Please Alex… Please don’t do this to me…” you sobbed while keeping him against your chest. His head lolled to one side, completely abandoned, and you felt the wound’s pulse slow down beneath the makeshift compress.

Fear whispered into your ear that he was dying, you would never keep him with you, not with that wound, not that time.

Out of pure paranoia your trembling fingers went to search for his carotid again.

There was no pulse.

“No no no no…!”

You immediately laid him down again and put your ear against his left pectoral, hearing his heart starting to struggle, the beats now erratic and shallow. What remained of the fabric you had got stuffed inside his wound, not caring if you dislodged the bullet or not. You only had one job at that moment.

Helmet and glasses flew off your face, yanked away in search of better vision.

Alex returned flat on the tarmac, head tilted back to free his airways. Your hands found the center of his chest, one on top of the other, and pushed down.

Again.

Again.

Again.

You moved quickly, then, and sealed your lips on his to blow into his lungs, nose pinched closed.

Nothing happened, the only change was the taste of iron in your mouth. "No no please…!" Your voice quivered and you continued chest compressions, letting out anguished moans for the effort of restarting his heart.

"C'mon Alex…! Please don't do this to me…! Please–" your prayers were silenced on his lips when you breathed in him your whole desperation. "Please–! You–! Fucking–! Asshole–!" Strangled growls grasped at your throat at every push.

The next time you knelt down to blow into his mouth, you felt his whole body seizing for an instant before he tried to move, coughing violently. "Oh thank God…!" Your whisper followed your hands as you grabbed him by the shoulders and hoisted him up again against your chest. "C'mon Alex hold on just a little more...please," you muttered into his hair, as you put new pressure on his reignited wound.

He whispered something against your neck, but his words were so slurred you didn't understand what he wanted to say. You only knew his muscles started to relax again, little by little.

The sound of sirens made itself known, but it was too far still and you could feel his light fading away again.

"Please don't die... please Alex I love you don't leave me here please...please don't go where I can't cover you...please."

Delta arrived at the scene at the same time as the ambulance, running towards the only two forms in the parking lot.

They saw you assaulting the federal with all you had, performing CPR on the sprawled guy. "I'M LOSING HIM! I CAN'T–" You yelled back to the paramedics that came rushing, substituting you on the resuscitation.

They took Alex, put him on a stretcher as quickly as possible and brought him towards the back of the ambulance, now wide open.

"Take out the Thumper!"

"He's getting hypothermic, grab some–"

"He's not improv–"

The paramedics' voices got muffled by the door closing and by the sirens resounding long and high-pitched when the ambulance took off, leaving you there on the ground, kneeling in Mahone's blood.

Your hands trembled, completely red, and your face had a ghastly look on it.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn't even notice.

Your Team did.

Hilton, your senior only by a couple of years, approached you and landed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it a lil bit.

He seemed hesitant to speak, for a second, before he took a deep breath. "Y/sN, let's go." You looked up, never coming back from your shocked state. Your eyes were still filled with the pale, defeated face of Alex.

"Where?" You numbly replied and Hilton just huffed. "The hospital, dumbass. Get up, c'mon," the man added, grabbing your arm and helping you up onto your feet.

"I… have to talk with the Chief...and...and fill out a report...and…" your ramblings shook as much as your body now.

Mortimer, another one of your friends from Delta, piped up from behind the now little crowd around you. "Go to yer stupid boyfriend would’ye?!"

You blinked, your brain still enveloped into a thick smog made of iron and red. You couldn't stop thinking about Alex, but your body was frozen.

You looked down.

His blood.

His blood was on you.

Your hands, your thighs, your chest, your face.

Was he dead? Did he die in your arms..? There was so much blood.

It flowed out like a powerful river

And you couldn't stop the dam from breaking.

If you only sped up his death by doing CPR? If you didn’t stop the blood enough for him to survive? If you cracked a rib and punctured a lung?

If you killed him?

Something had cracked alright, but not inside Alex’s body. Your mind fractured at the thought of you accidentally ending your lover’s life, the only one that brought a little right of sun into your life.

The journey to the hospital had been a blur, your brain not even registering the rest of Delta Team following you on the Interceptor. Your feet moved only out of muscle memory when someone prodded you to walk in a certain direction. Eyes blind to the white walls and rows of chairs in the waiting room, where Hilton brought you to.

You only felt yourself drown, as a weight found its way into your chest.

Your reddened gaze only managed to resurface when someone tried to speak to you, a woman wearing blue scrubs. “Miss, are you Y/n, Y/sN? For Mr. Mahone?” she asked.

You blinked and nodded again, suddenly feeling cold. Your hands went to rub at your arms, trying to remove the aching in your tingling muscles. How did you end up in the hospital, you didn't remember clearly and you were alone if not for one of the youngsters of Delta Team near the vending machine buying a coffee.

A pale light was coming through the big windows all around the waiting room, sign it was morning and not late afternoon anymore. “Ye-yeah…” you managed to croak, as if you almost forgot how to speak, slowly straightening on the uncomfortable, plastic chair.

The nurse softly smiled at you. “He’s in stable condition now, Miss, and he has asked about you,” “S-stable…?” he was alive. Good God, he was alive and well, apparently.

For you didn’t know, but you passed fourteen hours sitting on that chair, completely unaware of time passing and people walking back and from the near emergency room.

You forced yourself up and followed the nurse towards the private room they gave to the federal, letting her open the door before entering.

There he was, in a hospital gown with his shoulder completely bandaged, arm bound to the neck and deep dark circles under his eyes. A big sack of blood was tethered to his good arm, half empty.

Before he could even turn his head, your legs moved on their own and you neared the bed, almost falling when one of your knees suddenly thought to give out.

Your hands grasped at him, flakes of dried blood falling on the clean blanket as you finally, finally embraced him with all the might you had left.

"You're alive," you murmured to yourself, while his voice huffed a tired laugh against your neck. "You're alive...oh my God," "It wasn't that bad, c'mon..." he tried to calm you down, starting to fight your hold a little.

You didn't care if the door was open, the brick wall you hauled your emotions behind gave out and you started bawling.

You held him tighter, sobbing uncontrollably as the thought washed waves of relief inside you.

You didn't kill him.

He was alive.

He survived.

He… It wasn't that bad…?

While a river of tears continued to flow, you let him go just enough to wind back your hand and smack him right across his face, effectively erasing his soft, tired smile.

"What–"

"FUCK– YOU!"

You hiccupped between sobs, every minute of anguish coming together in that stream of erratic emotions.

Alex watched you melt away in your tears and a sad, fond expression formed in his face.

"Y/n–"

"IT WASN'T THAT BAD?! YOU…! YOU–"

"Y/n…Hone–"

"DON'T– you dare– 'honey' me! I...– I HAD TO REVIVE– YOU! TWICE!"

"Y/n, I know–"

"You– ALMOST DIED–!" "but I didn't."

His free hand went up to grab at yours, to keep you in the present...and to keep you from hitting him again. His eyes searched yours through the mist of your tears, slightly tilting his head. "I didn't die. I'm here," he whispered, squeezing your palms to send the message across. "I felt you...I heard you honey–" "I...I thought I– killed you…!" You whined in complete desperation, fingers grabbing at his.

Alex just waited for your sobs to calm down enough for him to speak again. "You saved me…" his voice spoke gently, his other hand itching in its sling to caress your tears away. "And even if you ended my life, I would've been happy, because I could feel you near me for one last time," his lips twitched at the corners, for an instant.

Your sobs didn't know if they had to subdue or to pick up pace, after what he said, but Alex used your silent moment to keep talking. "You saved me, Y/n, and in more than one way... don't ever think otherwise." His hand freed itself from your hold and finally rose to cup your cheek, beckoning you to come closer. "Come here…" he hushed, tenderly forcing you to climb on the bed with him, bloody tactical gear and all.

He rounded his arm around your shoulder and held you against his chest while you shriveled against his side into a sobbing mess. "You bled so much…!" You lamented and he sighed, closing his eyes as he planted a long, soft kiss into your hair. "I'm sorry…" his breath caressed your forehead, a slight tension of pain when he leaned back against the pillows with you on the healthy part of his chest.

"You bled...like a pig…" you added, sobs slowly coming to a stop, one hiccup at the time.

His voice laughed tiredly, above your head. "Like every good cop…" he replied in kind, the joke falling flat.

"Wear...the fucking gear...next time."

"Yes ma'am."

Finally, warmth came back again into you and the next time you blinked, you found yourself asleep.

"I love you, Y/n…" Alex muttered against your hair.

The very same words he slurred against your neck, hours before, with what he thought to be his very last breath.

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Eagles and Angels

After Alex's disappearance, you couldn't continue to work at your current police department in Chicago, so you ask to be transferred to another city dept. You wound up in Los Angeles. You try to forget Mahone with all the strength you have left as you go through your days off and on the field. One day you're invited to a charity party for some colleagues who have departed early and while you're there, you see something you would've never expected.

You checked your uniform one last time before entering the building.

A sea of black caps and golden trims moved around tables and chairs, making small talk and offering their condolences. Men and women coming from any angle of California, at least two from each department peppering the state.

Most of the officers were standing in small groups, holding glasses of sparkling wine snatched from the buffet table. You, on the other hand, approached the front of the crowd slipping through your colleagues and stopped in front of the photos put on display, a black ribbon in the top-right corner.

Five good men and two women, now dead in the name of serving and protecting.

You watched intently, feeling your throat closing when a little, evil thought slithered into your mind.

"His photo would never end up there."

One hand raised quickly to brush at your eyes, the tears threatening to make themselves known once again.

Alex disappeared for months now and no one had any idea where he went… the one that knew didn’t want to tell you even a smidgen of information on his last mission.

You asked and pleaded with Sullins for at least a week. You even cornered Wheeler and threatened violence on him and his small virility, but with no avail. You even tried to enter his now locked office, but once you managed to sneak your way in, you discovered it had been cleaned up of everything.

You swore to god you would search for him, but without a starter point, it all seemed useless.

You changed departments, you changed home and friends, but that didn't change the bleeding heart still in your chest.

Slowly, you grabbed your phone and opened it, watching the little photo you took of Alex: it was during one of your dinners together, where he finally drank a little and loosened up. His face had been rosy all evening and he laughed at every little thing.

The photo you snapped in secret was of him smiling, his head turned to one side, almost bashful. His true self, hidden underneath the cold façade he wore while working.

Your thumb caressed the glass of the screen, using that virtual picture to send a prayer for him like all those people did for the mourned.

The concept hit you like concrete in your gut. Alex was dead and you would never see him again.

Forgotten by his colleagues, hidden away like a stain.

The hope you buried deep into your soul finally gave its last breath and you closed the phone with a soft clack, the sound a metaphor of nailing that coffin shut.

"This was the worst idea…" you thought to yourself, your feet quickly turning around towards the exit of the hall, but as you passed by some officer talking to a lady, you heard a voice you recognized.

That tone had been etched into your brain for how many times you and Alex poured on the video he made, searching for clues, mistakes or just studying the guy.

Your eyes, shining with held-back tears, shot up towards the origin of the sound and there he was.

Michael Scofield, donning a uniform like he owned the place.

Shock and anger filled you, as you saw his hand reach underneath a table and grab something small and black.

He looked around briefly, and when Scofield saw your eyes glued on him, he stopped for a second.

Your glossy eyes betrayed the hatred you felt for him and the escapee surely noticed, because his body tensed while fast-walking towards a little hallway, hidden away from the rest of the party members.

Anger turned into rage as you walked right behind him, slithering among your other colleagues to reach his disappearing shoulders. A whirlwind of thoughts twirled in your mind, feeling the same hunting dog that was Mahone.

Why was he there? What was that little thing he grabbed? How brazen did he have to be to show his face there, wearing a police uniform?? What has he done to Alex??

After all he did, the lives he ruined...after he took Alex away from you.

You moved into the empty corridor and saw Scofield turning a sharp right into a little side-garden, probably searching for an escape route.

That was your chance, away from anyone, to finally grab revenge and make it yours.

As soon as both of you were around the corner of the hallway, you ran up to him and grabbed his forearm, slamming his chest against a wall on your left. “Where is he?!” you hissed into his ear, your elbow digging into his spine. “Where is Mahone??”

Scofield turned his head and looked at you with his cold gaze, but you could almost see a hint of surprise, a panic wash on his face before he could get a hold of himself. "I know he was after you. I swear to God–!"

Scofield immediately reacted, fighting your hold; what he lacked in training he had with height difference and desperation.

A punch managed to hit your cheekbone and your cap flew off your head, but you didn’t stop.

There were far too many questions to pry the answers from his mouth.

Like a snake attacking its prey you launched on him again. Your foot rose to hit his knee straight on, a move Alex taught you to make anyone buckle, but Scofield dodged that, his clear eyes passing from you to a form behind your shoulder.

Suddenly a big forearm wrapped around your throat and you were lifted a few inches off the ground by the tall figure that was Burrows.

You should've thought about that, the brothers rarely acted alone… you were too fixated on that forbidden knowledge to remember. "Lincoln let's go, I have the device..!" Scofield heaved, massaging his jaw you hit in your fury.

Meanwhile, Burrows was crushing your windpipe, but you didn't stop fighting: months of sadness, frustrations and pure heartache were pouring into your limbs like a river.

Your legs kicked and your back arched, hands trying to find a place to grab onto the escapee. When your fingers clawed at the fold of Burrows' elbow, you used his own body like a stabilizer and curled your legs up before pushing them down again with all the strength you had, trying to unbalance the burly man.

Burrows folded forward just enough for your feet to land on the floor again and immediately you pushed him back and against the wall, trying to distract him just enough to free yourself.

Just a little more, just a little harder before you would pass out from the lack of oxygen.

With a strangled growl you tried again, this time you drove your heel into the top of his foot and finally you felt his hold soften enough for you to free yourself. You turned and grabbed his still hunched shoulders, shoving your knee directly into his guts, again and again.

For a moment it seemed to slow him down, hearing him grunt in pain as you tried to down him, but all stopped all of a sudden.

"What are you two doing there?? We need to go!" you heard a hushed tone from the hallway and your body froze for a second, your reddened eyes shifting towards the voice you heard.

Alex…?

Burrows, seeing you distracted, sucker-punched the lights out of you, making you lose your footing.

The shock of the hit made you see black and stars, the taste of blood filling your mouth.

The punch probably managed to break one tooth, too.

You wanted to reply in kind to Burrows' hits, but again he grabbed you, twisting your arms behind your back and pushing your chest against the wall like you did with his brother.

No kick or wriggle could free you now, tired and still out of this world for the previous direct.

"Lincoln there's no time for this, they're all going out–" Mahone appeared from the corridor with a light jog and your barely focusing eyes met him for the first time in months.

Alex was as beautiful as you remembered, if only a little thinner, a little rougher around the edges. His eyes held a haunting light in the very back, but the bewildered look on his face made your heart squeeze.

Under that matter-of-factly behaviour, he seemed sad. Oh so sad, especially now that his lips mouthed your name in pure confusion.

While he stopped at archway, you started to fight more Burrows’ hold, feeling his hand search something on you. “I need to cuff her or she’ll blow our coverー” "Let her go," Mahone commanded hastily when he found his voice again, starting to approach you and Burrows “What…?” "Lincoln! Let her go!" He added more forcefully, almost panicked.

The moment Burrows' hands disappeared from your body, you shoved him away, only one thing mattering for you in that instant.

You closed the couple of feet between you and Alex with a leap and wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders, exhaling a desperate sob into his neck.

At the same time, Alex moved his hands to hug you back into a warm, solid hold.

The dam almost broke when you felt his warm palm against the nape. "Alex…! Oh...m-my God, Alex…!" You heaved with desperate relief, clawing at the dark uniform he was wearing. At that sound, his whole frame crumbled and his embrace tightened, quivering. “Y/n...I’m so sorry love, Iー” "Where did you go??” you spoke again with a dense tone full of worry. Your hands detached from his shoulders only to cup his face, so you could see directly in those glass-like eyes you always loved the most. “ I thought you were dead…! No one told me where you were…! Sullins, Wheeler, even Felicia didn’t give me a fucking clue!" Your voice, at first sad, started to mount in emotions, remembering the time you literally begged Lang to tell you Mahone’s last known location.

Alex watched you with his face distorting into a mix of happiness and guilt, his own hands cradling your nape with sad sweetness. “It’s...Y/n, it’s complicated...” he whispered, feeling Michael and Lincoln’s eyes on his back, now that the brothers reunited. “Just...come with me? Please? We…” he turned his head slightly, as if asking permission to take you with him to Michael, who was now watching him intently. Lincoln seemed weary of you, while he massaged his offended abs. “It’s dangerous to be heー”

Your lips crashed on his in a desperate kiss when Alex shifted his gaze back to you, losing your breath in the effusion almost completely.

Both brothers raised their brows as they watched a vaguely shy Mahone blink into the sweet attack, before slowly replying, softening your frantic gesture into something warmer, tender.

Alex’s breath became cold on your skin and his fingers gently brushed away a few tears from your cheeks.

The kiss would’ve lasted longer, but Michael’s voice came up between them like a crowbar. “We have to go.”

Your attention rounded suddenly towards Scofield, watching him in anger. “Go where??” you growled, turning to Alex for a brief moment as if searching for an answer, only to return your eyes on Michael’s cold ones. “He’s not going anywhere, Scofield, do you hear me?? What do you have to make him obey like a good lil’ doggie?? Did you blackmail him?? Threatened his son??” At each barked question you took a step forward, towards the brothers. “I swear if you lay a finger on that boy you’ll beg to be killed!”

At the same time Mahone grabbed your arm to stop you and Lincoln put himself between his brother and your irate gaze. “Aw as if you would scare me, big guy!” you yanked at Alex’s hand, flexing the shoulders backwards while your chest puffed out. Your hands itched for some confrontation, the dark imagery in your mind giving fuel to your rage. “C’mon I’ll finish the job with you and then make your spindly lil’ brother spit out that brilliant brain of his!-” “Y/N! Stop it, immediately!” Alex’s voice came serious and sharp behind you, the tone you heard so many times from your Chief in Command.

You stopped fighting Mahone’s hold and your lips fell silent, but you still watched the brothers as if you could kill them with your eyes. “Y/n I’ll explain everything.” Alex then pulled you back and held you around the shoulders in fear you would jump the brothers again. “But Michael is right, we have to go-” “yeah, but leave the pipsqueak behind, would you?” Lincoln harrumphed, you and him exchanging lethal gazes.

“Is she trustworthy?” the younger brother asked instead and you squinted at him, clawing at Mahone’s dark shirt in a protective (and rather possessive) stance.

Alex sighed and nodded. “Yes. I can vouch for her...It’s been...a terrible month for everyone,” he quickly said to Scofield and the man seemed to understand.

He then turned to his brother and jerked his head towards the hallway, a silent sign that Burrows barely noticed.

Exiting the building became almost too easy and when the four of you reached a black, big car, you looked up to Alex. His face was serious and his eyes were wandering around on high alert.

His whole body was in full tension near yours, as you walked elbow to elbow, and for a moment replayed his words in your mind. “It’s too dangerous.”

Why was it dangerous? He was with the Bureau, a valued agent, one of the best! All those policemen would be honored to be in his presence…!

“Get on…” he whispered to you as he opened the car door, watching around with his jaw tensing.

The journey through the city was one of the heaviest you ever witnessed: the brothers were on the front seats, MeatHead driving and WonderBoy looking out of the windows, scanning the sidewalks.

You and Mahone took the back seats and you felt the silence push on you two, while Alex had one hand fisted on his leg and the other rested between your shoulder blades.

The stylish part of the city slowly morphed into factories and rusted iron, eaten away by the salt of the sea.

You saw some warehouses on your way to the group’s destination and finally Burrows parked haphazardly in front of a seemingly abandoned building. “We’ll stay out here for a second,” Alex called out to the brothers and while Lincoln didn’t even turn, Michael gave the federal a nod, watching you with calculating eyes, before disappearing inside that particular warehouse.

Only you and Alex remained on the quay, the man taking a deep breath before stretching his fingers towards you, softly touching your forearm. “Come…” he breathed, his previous hard voice now barely a wisp.

Mahone walked up to the cement barriers that functioned as guardrails along the edge of the port, the only thing protecting people from falling into the sea water. He turned and sat down on top of one of the Jersey bumps, completely deflated. “Alex...what happened…?” you prompted him, inching closer to him.

You didn’t have your fire inside anymore, anger now fizzled into worried sadness. You never saw him like that, completely defeated. A shadow barely holding onto its physical form. “It’s a long story,” he spoke without looking into your eyes. Instead, he moved one hand and slowly reached for one of yours, gently weaving them together. “I will understand if you will want to...keep your distance, after, but please listen… I really need someone to listen…”

And you did.

You didn’t speak while his voice started to pour out into a long, convoluted string. You absorbed everything, from the starting hunt, to Panama, through Sona and then out.

Your chest tightened as he recounted how Sona was, the killings and brutality, the blood shed and the constant fear of end up shanked. Instinctively you brought his hand to your chest as you heard his defeat against his personal demons, in the shape of white dust and a needle.

You listened about the Company, who and why were they against the brothers, the conspiracy behind Burrows’ death sentence and the courage his brother had to free him. All those words lit up a bunch of lightbulbs in your head, especially when Mahone explained that he worked for the Company twice already, doing double-crossing the second time he did. How they threatened whoever he loved. His son, Pam. You. “That’s why…” you whispered. “That's why you refused to even sleep...If I knew back then I could-” “you didn’t have to know. It was best that way...I couldn’t risk losing you too…” Alex sighed while you lowered your intertwined hands down, completely shocked and still processing all the infodump he just did.

But there was something he didn’t speak about and you could feel it, a thorn prickling in the background. Bleeding one droplet at the time. “There’s something you’re not telling me…” you muttered, inching closer to him. “Alex…Who…? Felicia? Pam?” you asked, seeing his empty eyes fixating on a far, non-existing point on the cement.

The lack of replies didn’t give you enough to work with, but you noticed something, a sorrow dug deep in him that no normal death would create.

If there was something Alex truly cared about was...

Oh no…

“...Cam?” you whispered, as the realization hit you.

You saw his kid from time to time and when your relationship deepened, you even brought the boy to school using your police car, earning you the ‘Police Mom’ title.

He knew about you and his dad, of course, and even Pam seemed satisfied that Alex found someone else to be happy with.

“Three...four days ago…” came the reply. He tried to remain collected, but you could hear the lump in his throat tighten.

You left his hand only to raise your arms and approach him, enveloping his head and his shoulders into a firm embrace. Your palm caressed his nape and you could feel his entire body collapse against you, as if the last trace of self-control disappeared the moment you hugged him.

His hands clawed at your back when he searched for your body like a castaway in the middle of a maelstrom, squeezing you tightly against himself while his face drowned in your presence.

He trembled without a sound, but you knew he was crying.

You rode with him the waves of agony, keeping steady against the hot tears you felt dampening your dark uniform. “Oh God I’m so sorry darling..” you whispered in his hair, kissing the top of his head. “I’m here now...I’m here and I’m not leaving...ok? I’ll never leave…” your hands caressed the back of his neck, his shoulder and what could you reach of his back, trying to smooth away the sadness he was so firmly enveloped into.

The embrace lasted minutes, where Mahone slowly relaxed more and more into it, until he finally took a deep breath and started to lean away, looking up to you.

His eyes were red and still wet, the icy blue of his eyes still amazingly beautiful even in sorrow. “We’ll get to the end of it, together...ok?” you whispered, holding a smile on your face, hoping to rub some of that optimism onto him. He only nodded, his throat bobbing with a swallow before he would stretch his neck and search for a kiss. You couldn’t deprive a desperate man some love, so you gladfully leaned down and met his lips with your own, a slow and soft press that asked for peace, even for an instant.

Was like that, a statue devoted to love and hardship, that you two were caught by an oblivious Sucre, just arrived from his part of the retrieval mission.

He slinked away with a shameful ‘sorry!’ after he realized who was there on the quay and while you furrowed your eyebrows, Mahone only sighed a little laugh, hiding himself again in your chest. “Thank you...for being here...for...being,” he muttered with a sweet, shy tone.

You hugged him some more, your time now to feel a lump in your throat.

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Missing

You suddenly disappeared on the journey between your workplace and your home.

Alex, your current fiancé, is informed about this and wants to be involved with the search. Sullins gets him off the case almost immediately when foul play is presumed, considering Mahone one of the first suspects because of his (lately rocky) relationship with you.

Eaten by the thought of you dead, Mahone launches himself in a private investigation to try and find you.

Based off the song “Where’s My Love” by SYML

It had been Lang, that saint woman, who told Alex the news: you were gone and no-one knew where.

After leaving the administration building next to Alex’s office, you didn’t come home. People noticed only because you didn���t show up at work the next day and the interviewed doorkeeper of your apartment building confirmed never seeing you that night.

It had been also Lang, who kept him in the loop. The first days of your disappearance Alex had been shaking with adrenaline, sifting every video, every photo, every interrogation transcript Felicia gave him after Sullins took him off the case.

“I know that look,” Felicia spoke softly as her hands went to grab his ones. “You were out of State, it’s not your fault.”

Was it not?

The both of you didn’t stop fighting about anything, in the last days before her disappearing. Sullins thought it was obvious proof of Mahone’s culpability and Alex couldn’t but agree with his superior, just on a different note.

It was his fault.

He pushed you, pushed against your love and your presence because it was too good, too warm. You were too good for him and he broke you.

How many times he snapped at you? How many times has he let his work take priority over you?

Did he see the signals and didn’t care?

Or was he so blind he didn’t even notice?

Did you just… run away from him? Or were you in danger?

“How many hours, now?” Alex asked, his voice a whispery, ragged strand of what originally was.

Lang sighed, seeing his friend with his head hung forward and shoulders slouched down. He didn’t even try to hide the lack of sleep and food, at that point. “Alex…” “how many hours...days…?” his voice didn’t stop breaking from time to time, hardly keeping emotions where they had to stay.

Felicia remained silent, thinking about the last time she saw you, waving as you came out of your small little office. “Five days, more or less.” she confessed. “We searched along the road she usually takes, but nothing came up.”

Alex didn’t move, but his brain churned. “Have you checked-” “Looked at the CCTVs, in the park near her home, around the neighborhood...we even asked for security footage from civilians. I went out there myself and found nothing,” Lang exhaled, shifting on her side of the sofa, uncomfortable.

“Search dogs?”

“It had been raining since she disappeared. They can’t find a lead.”

“Interviewed coworkers? Someone that fancied her? Hated her? Or me?”

“He asked everybody, twice. Nothing came up beside office gossip. Listen, Alex, I know you know your stuff, but we know too. God’s know how much I want to find her, but you need to listen to me.”

Mahone went silent again, for a few seconds.

“Have you… looked where I told you to-” “...Alex,” Felicia's voice grew stern. “We looked. Every. Where… You need to start thinking that...maybe... she might be-” “DON’T-...Don’t say it. Please Felicia...just...let me...” and with that Lang couldn’t speak more.

Her chest tightened as she saw Alex curl up, hands gripping his own hair and tremble in what little tears he still had left.

With a small, weak “I’ll see myself out” she walked out of Alex’s living room, leaving the man to be with his sorrows with just a soft pat on his shoulder.

They didn’t search enough, Alex thought as he jumped up from the sofa, starting to pace around. He looked at your face peppering the place with various photos, smiling memories he still could feel, trapped underneath the surface of that agony.

They didn’t search well enough…! She had to be somewhere! If only Richard would listen to him!

She could die!

She could…

She is…

Anger came over him in a wave and Alex let out a pained roar, as he kicked over the coffee table, sending all its nicknacks flying.

A glass vase shattered, papers and flyers and documents flew around, the small piece of furniture rolled to the other side of the room.

You weren’t dead… you were just out of reach of anybody else.

That was it.

Fuck Sullin’s suspects, fuck everybody’s incompetence.

You were somewhere out there and if Alex found killers, rapists and even former military, he would find the love of his life.

He exited his house like a hurricane, not even grabbing his heavy coat to fight the cold of mid-autumn.

He had to check that place again. Even if his colleagues assured him the place was empty when they looked, Mahone had a feeling.

Because if you weren’t there...then you really just up and left him without a trace.

Five Day Earlier:

“What?!” you snapped, pressing your phone against your ear. You barely heard Alex through it, the sound of chatter and keyboards muffling his voice. “But we had plans...you know we had plans!” you whined, making some coworkers turn their heads.

You huffed, storming out of the office and on the emergency stairs, just so you could chew him a new one in peace.

“We found a new lead for the Ragman case-” “Like I care! You’re not the whole fucking Bureau, Alex! Let someone else handle it!” you barked, your free hand grabbing the railing.

It was that or it was crossing the street, up to his office and smacking him to kingdom come.

He sounded angry just like you, his voice cold and strained. “I can’t just step down! I’ve been following this case for weeks, you know it!” “I know that I’m planning this fucking dinner since EASTER, Alex! It’s not even the real Thanksgiving because you ALREADY HAVE that day filled, but no! No, you HAVE to be on the other side of the fucking Nation even tho you assured meー no, SWORE me you WOULD BE FREE!” you found yourself basically screaming into the phone.

It was like a dam exploded and now days and months of pushing down emotions kept pouring out.

It wasn’t only for a missed dinner, it was for the rest. The feeling of being less than his job, being unimportant. Not being enough for him.

Those thoughts gnawed at you for quite some time and now they came back in full force. “You know what?? Fine! Go be a superhero! Go hunt your next bone, good doggy! While you’re there, marry your fucking job too!”.

With that you slammed the phone shut without even listening to his voice anymore.

One after another, his promises kept missing...and you were at your wit’s ends. There was some talking to do, for sure, but before that you absolutely had to cool down or you would totally wreck what was left between you two.

So, after finishing your boring day at work you went out and, instead of going back to your shared home, you got on a bus and straight to your favourite place.

The park was nice even when the summer was just a memory, a thick fog rising from the browny waters of the lagoon.

You walked down a wooden path, feeling the wet earth beneath it shift slightly, and you breathed a long, long sigh; you didn’t need to be so mean, but you were so tired. Tired of battling for every inch of attention. Tired of tiptoeing around Mahone’s always full agenda.

You didn’t mind his line of work, being a federal was a very dangerous and busy occupation, but Alex seemed to always do more of what was expected of him. No one ordered him to travel and manually grab the killer of choice to bring back. No one ordered him to stay afterhours for days on end, leaving you to wait up until midnight with an empty plate in the kitchen.

He was the one going the extra mile for his job...but lately, you wanted him to take some, not all! But some of that mileage and invest it in his relationship with you.

Especially now that he proposed.

You chuckled a sob, remembering the day.

Was it just so you wouldn’t run away? Did he really love you?

Or did he love the cooking, the cleaning, the company?

You stopped in the middle of the wooden road and looked left, seeing a faint path in the tall grass.

That small, invisible trail led you to the best place of the park, where you played cop and thief with your friends.

It was a small, round clearing among the trees, with one L-shaped stone covered in moss you called ‘The Couch’.

You hopped on The Couch and groaned your anger away, laying down on the soft greenery.

You didn’t know what to do anymore...

Mahone stopped his car inches away from the main gate of the park, leaving the engine on as he got off.

He grabbed a torch from the glove box and ran inside, moving the light around like a blade cutting the darkness. His eyes swallowed every little detail as he walked, combing with his gaze through the trees, the grass, the waters.

Frantically he moved along the main path, flashing the wooden boards now dark and soaking wet.

The recent rain erased any single footprint that would have existed, but Mahone knew your favourite place.

You showed him once, making him find a basket full of good food, a blanket and some wine. “Twenty steps from the crooked tree… thirtyfive to the left,” he mumbled to himself, finding the faint trail almost immediately.

He walked like a pirate in search of a treasure, careful to never stray from the path.

“Y/n! Y/n honey!” he shouted.

Alex had this foolish thought, this little movie in his head that, once he overcame the underbrush and pierced the thick veil of trees, he would find you.

Maybe angry, maybe scared, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to hug you tight, to never let go.

As he walked up into the clearing, his already broken heart shattered.

Everything was as he remembered: the long, thin trunks of the ashes, the big green rock, the blades of grass.

Even the smell was the same, humid and woody.

But you weren’t there.

You weren’t sitting on that strange rock or maybe laying in the grass. Not you or your body or any kind of hint you were ever there.

Alex’s hand trembled, the light of the torch vibrating. “No...no no no…” he sobbed. “Y/N! HONEY!” he started to shout, “Y/N PLEASE! Y/N!” his eyes darted left and right as the realization started to really hit him. “Y/N I’M SORRY! PLEASE! DON’T...Don’t...p-please come back...” his voice crumbled as did his body, overexerted by the long days without respite.

The flashlight flew from his fingers in a fit of desperate rage and Mahone wept alone in the woods, almost wheezing in the constricting pain holding his heart.

Tears streamed down his face as his palms pressed against his temples, nails digging into his scalp.

It was his fault, all his fault...if he just said no to Sullins, if he sent Wheeler instead...if he listened to Felicia…

You would be home with him.

Eating a warm, good dinner together and then crashing into bed, holding each other until morning.

Now you were gone and his heart was, too.

c l a c k c l a c k c l a c k s p l a s h

Amongst the sobbing and the sounds of the night, Alex’s ears picked up on something. A sound that seemed to come almost from underneath him, faint and muffled.

Then, raising his head, Mahone noticed he was in complete darkness. His torch was nowhere to be found.

No, there was something: a few strands of grass seemed to shine, but the light was too feeble to be his flashlight...or was it?

He moved slowly, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment...and then his eyes shot open wide, for what he saw there, at the foot of the big green rock.

You lingered in that place for at least a couple of hours, watching the sky turning from grey to black as the night progressed. Your phone pinged a couple of times with messages from Alex, asking you to answer his calls, to stop being childish, to please reply. The last one was a defeated ‘we’ll talk when I’ll be back. Write when you’re home. Love you’ that made you melt a litte. You sighed, closing the phone with a little clack and laying it on your forehead, thinking. Now that you were calmer and level-headed, what had happened seemed a little excessive. Sure you’ll speak to Alex about your insecurities, about how you felt being always brushed aside, but at the same time you had to make peace with the fact that you still loved him, so very much. He had that job before you came into his life, it was one of the things that made you fall in love with him: his stubbornness, his logic, his courage. It was a new point in your life and it just needed adjusting, that’s all… “ehh...fuck me…” you whisper with a strange, sweet tone in it, as you took your phone and started to slowly type ‘Going home. Love you too’ to him. As you hit send, the phone froze for a second before giving you a small error message. “No signal? Where am I, Narnia?” you grumbled as you jumped off The Couch, lifting your cellphone at arm-high in search of signals. You stumbled around in the clearing, eyes transfixed on the little screen above your head. “C’mon, now that I wasn’t that angry anymo-” your voice yelped as your heel sank into rotten wood. Something behind you, on the ground, gave away and your entire weight dragged you down, down deep into the earth. You dropped like a stone, your fingers trying to grab the wet, rough walls as you plummeted down. Then a splash, cold water enveloping you with its sharp claws, but it didn't stop gravity enough for your bones not to break. You heard a snap and suddenly a jolt of electrifying pain shot all along your right leg. You cried in agony, scraping your nails against the rocks like running away from the hurt. After a few minutes of intense panic, your eyes started to watch around, to assess your position after the fall. You recognized it, between tears. It was a well. An old well hidden from everyone's eyes but nature, still filled with a couple of feet of freezing water. “Oh no...oh--ffffuck…!” you wailed as you tried to stand up, letting out another cry as you immediately fell down again, your own body too shocked to manage to stand up. The sandy bottom felt grimy underneath your hands, your phone dead in the water where it fell right after you. “HELP! SOMEBODY!” You passed all night screaming for help, watching the mouth of the well light up with the cloudy sky of the morning after. If you squinted enough, its form could be mistaken for a full moon in the middle of a dark sky. Unable to stand on your remaining leg for more than a few seconds, you leaned against the stone walls around you, trying to stay as far as possible from the water. It was too cold to sit in it without freezing to death and you surely didn’t want to die. You screamed and screamed until your throat felt raw and your voice cracked. Your thirst found solace with the same water threatening your life and you drank it with small sips, feeling its coolness fight your body temperature as you gulped it down. Another night came and went. The light grey sky became black again. It rained, water trickling down the walls and slowly pooling at the base of the well, around her legs. You drank your hunger away, using the rain to quench your thirst now that your small reserve of water got, alas, corrupted by your bodily function. Your voice carried less far away, tired but still trying. Third day and leaning against the wall with just one leg had been unbearable. Your knee buckled from time to time, sending you into the water now one feet higher. You convened with your body that sitting down, even if in freezing water, could be done for a couple of minutes at the time. You tried to scream for help again, but your voice croaked pitifully

and never reached the edge of the well, hidden among the grass. Surely someone noticed your disappearance. Surely there was police involved already...it had to be. You secretly hoped he noticed, too. Would he care, after what you screamed at him? You could not feel your leg anymore and looking at its bent shape made you nauseous. Or was it the hunger? "Please….! Someone…" Fourth day. You could not stand anymore. Water reached your chest now and the only moments of warmth is when your bladder empties itself. Rain stopped flowing down that night and you waved goodbye at your only source of clean water. He wasn't there. No one was. Death was. Fifth. Cold. Light. Alex…?

Mahone carefully palmed the edges of the well, double the size of a manhole.

He looked down, the light of his torch now reverberating along stone walls, impressing on them the dance of water. And his heart sank down the same moment he saw you.

You were sitting down with water lapping at your collarbones, your skin so pale you looked like a ghost.

His voice hiccuped a second, before coming out in full force. “Y/N!” he cried, but you didn’t move.

Only a slit of your beautiful, beautiful eyes was open. So were your lips, turned a dangerous shade of blue.

Quickly, Alex grabbed his phone and dialed Lang’s number, knowing full well she would still be in the office. She was leading the search, despite her pessimistic view about it.

The woman replied almost immediately, her voice tense. “Yes?” “I found her!” he hissed, panicked. “Send me the firefighter, now! And paramedics! Please she’s unresponsive I can’t reach-” “Alex, breathe! I’ll send you a backup, but you need to calm down! Where are you?”.

Mahone breathed in, tensing his jaw, before moving his head to search for something to try and pull you out. “She fell into an abandoned well,” his voice was colder, professional. “There’s no time, just track my phone. I’m going down…!” “Alex wait-!”

With that, Mahone closed the call and safely left his phone a couple of feet away from the mouth of the well.

Without a second thought, the man slid one leg into the hole, then the other, slowly lowering himself inside with his feet searching for pursuit on the smooth stones. His fingers found cracks in between the rocks and slowly started his descent. Alex slipped a couple of times, holding on just enough for his shoes to find a ledge again.

The journey you made in a few seconds five days prior, took Alex at least one solid minute of intense climbing. When only a couple of feet separated the both of you, Mahone let go of the wall and fell down into the freezing water, feeling it gnaw at his legs. “Y/n…! Oh God honey...please answer me…!” he panted as he reached you, kneeling down into the stagnant water. His hot hands cupped your frozen face, thumb caressing your cold lips and your damp cheekbones.

For a moment there was nothing. No movements, no reactions but only the sloshing of water around your bodies.

Slowly, then, you came up from the dark, fuzzy place where you were drowning, your eyelashes trembled, stuck, unable to open.

Resuscitated by his warm touch, his presence. “A...lex…” your voice was barely a raspy whisper, but that was enough for Mahone.

He exhaled a deep breath, a smile cracking his tense expression as he lowered his head to kiss your damp forehead. “I’m here love… I’m here.”

For a moment you thought about wrapping your arms around him, searching for more of that scalding sensation against the skin. As you tried, a new explosion of pure agony rebounded in your body.

You couldn't move, almost frozen solid in that curled position. Your stone-cold body started to shake visibly, like a broken machine trying to power on. “h-h-he...reー” you whined under your breath, one hand fighting against the cramping muscles to reach his shirt.

You gripped on him with all the strength you had left, eyes rolling behind the eyelids from time to time.

Mahone immediately wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in his body warmth. “Yes Y/n I’m here. I’ll take you out darling...I’m here, I’m not leaving…” he whispered hurriedly in your ear, a big lump forming in his throat.

You yelped softly when he touched your broken leg, your only functioning hand pulling at his clothes in pain and Mahone furrowed his brows, watching down in the muddy water.

He saw your injury but didn’t say anything about it, only shifting his body to be able to hold you without causing any pain.

Cuddled into his arm, you let yourself mold into him, your heavy head resting on his shoulder and face searching the hot angle of his throat. “I’ll not let you die…” he sweetly spoke onto your wet hair. “You will not...leave me like this.”

You sighed against his skin, your trembling starting to subdue. Oh you were so tired, the weight of entire oceans on you… but you could not stand losing his voice into the fog. “h--urts-…” you let out a soft noise, desperate and scared.

Your eyes finally managed to unglue, lashes thawed and gaze glassy, but you watched his face, crossed by the undulating lights the torch created from the bottom of the water. If you died there, at least you managed to see the summer skies in his eyes one last time. “I let you down so many times darling…” Alex hushed, his voice low and closed in his throat. His hand never stopped caressing your face, brushing away locks of hair and heating up your skin with his palm. “But I’ll get you out of here...this is a promise I’m going to keep...you just...you just have to keep holding on.”

You wanted to speak, to reply to his sweet, sweet words. Transform your groan into words of love and pureness, but your hand felt heavier than ever before and your aching fingers lost grip on his shirt.

It had been difficult to even remain conscient at that moment, focusing on the beating of his heart in his throat. Focusing on your body now split in two: freezing death on one side, burning pain on the other.

“Stay awake Y/n, don’t sleep…! C’mon honey you have to stay with me now. Please..!” you heard Alex as if he spoke to you from the other side of a glass, the voice you always loved now muffled.

As your mind started to drift off again, a thought came into your mind.

You never managed to reply to his message.

You never said that to him. “ ーove... you…” your tired, hoarse voice managed to claw out of your mouth before passing out again.

Red and blue lights pierced through the trees and seconds after a group of men in uniform came rustling into the clearing.

Guiding them was Felicia Lang, her phone in her hand trying to reach out for Mahone without success. “Where are you, you dumbー !” her mumbling stopped as her eyes saw light coming through the earth, then a little mmmmhz-mmmmhz of Mahone’s vibrating cell phone.

“HERE! HERE!” she shouted, waving her arm. Both police and firemen crowded around the well for a moment, assessing the situation.

There was a man on the bottom of the well, standing in water up to his knees. He was holding a woman in his arms, trying to keep her as close to him as possible. “WE’RE COMING DOWN! STAND BACK!” one of the policemen yelled, as one of the firemen wore a harness.

Alex made one step back, watching intently at the man being lowered into the well by his colleagues. “C’mon…! C’mon!” he hissed under his breath, his body trembling with adrenaline while time slowed down to a crawl.

As soon as the fireman reached them, Alex neared him. “She’s hypothermic, unresponsive...I can’t find a pulse but I see her breathing…!” he spoke quickly, agitated and the fireman nodded. “Paramedics are on the surface, sir, don’t worry.”

You didn’t even make a sound as your frozen body passed from Alex’s determined hold to the arms of the unknown man.

Slowly, you were brought up and out of the moist hell you fell five days prior, and while the fireman carried you towards the on-coming stretcher, Alex was given a rope to use as a way to climb up right behind rescue.

He didn’t even feel the pain in his arms as training and fear both pushed him to move quickly, grasping at the edge of the well with one hand and the other being grasped by Lang. “She’s there, go…!” she whispered to him as soon as he came out.

Mahone neared the stretcher the same time the paramedics put it down for you to be laid on and start first aid.

They couldn’t find a pulse for a good thirty seconds, before one of them confirmed that yes, heart beats were present but slow.

“Shallow breathing. Have you temp?”

“25 degrees. She’s gonna collapse, wrap her!”

“On three. One, two, three-up!”

“Gently!”.

Alex walked near the stretcher, watching you being wrapped up in insulation blankets and with one of the paramedics pumping air into your lungs through a mask.

He never left your side, as the little procession sped through the park, towards the exit and into the back of an ambulance.

On the ride to the hospital, Alex never left your hand.

Your fingers never left his, too.

[writingmorsels]

Coming back to tumblr after so many years, feels good man.

I've decided to use this blog as a writing archive, for my oneshots and whatnot (especially for niche characters like Alexander Mahone or Tom Underlay...yeah I've discovered an unruly passion for William fichtner lately ahah).

If you have suggestions for future oneshots, please don't refrain to tell me!

Now onto the stories!