Disclaimer: No I do not own nor profit from Prison Break or any of its franchise or affiliates.
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Michael Scofield was not a man to rush headstrong into any situation without calculating the multiple facets of outcomes and equations. It was just how his mind worked. Analyzing. Dissecting. Paired with meticulous scrutiny, it was a deadly combination to anyone who stood in his way.
He had never met someone who thought quite the same. Until him.
The gray eyed devil himself.
Alex Mahone.
And he was stuck in the same prison with the former Agent. The irony was so thick Michael struggled to swallow it as it got lodged in his throat. Their eyes met across the heated Panama courtyard before his brain could convince his body to move away. Delay the inevitable. But what was the point? They were both stuck here for at least a week.
Scofield was talented. But not THAT talented. In order to do what he had to do, to gather the intel and the resources to pull of yet another impossible escape, he could NOT afford to spend extra pains and energy to hide. Hide from those steely eyes that managed to pierce Michael to his shivering core. It was usually ruthless men with no morals that shook the brother of the formerly condemned.
But something about the way Mahone looked -hell the way he *acted*- around Michael had the younger man on edge. Almost like Mahone was an inch away from figuring Scofield out, and it terrified Michael to no end.
There was a brief moment of disbelief, anger, then a smug satisfaction that slid across the former agent's face. Then, shoulders squared, Alex took long powerful strides to splinter Michael's ill prepared defenses.
As a last ditch effort, Scofield's body finally reacted, trying to casually turn and make off for a different direction. A destination that led AWAY from the determined gentlemen pointedly heading his way. But, as Mahone had proved himself quite capable the previous months, the older man managed to somehow stay one step ahead of him.
A bare, muscled arm struck the wall conveniently barring Michael's path to freedom, the solid black shirted body attached to it giving the eased air of casualty. As if Mahone was simply leaning against the wall for support. In no way at all having improvised a way to halt Michael's retreat.
Impossible.
Chuckling at some unsaid phrase, Mahone directed that all encompassing gaze Michael's way as he commented, "Small world, eh Scofield?" But it wasn't a question. And those eyes were too invasive for comfort.
Eyes narrowing in angry defiance of his rising anxiety levels, Michael cut shortly, "Too small."
Then he attempted to sidestep around the curly haired brunette, hoping his shortened answer was enough to convey just how little he wanted to converse with the other. But Mahone was never prone to being ignored. His powerful persona, and deviously intricate mind, were of a breed that would not allow such a thing to pass.
His fist slammed into the other side of the wall, right next to the young con's head, effectively penning the elusive man in. Michael was taken by surprise, and by the amused glint in the older man's darker grin, Mahone had noticed.
"Cute, Scofield." Mahone drawled with a dangerous tilt of his head, leaning closer as he hissed, "Almost as cute as that stunt. The boat? The drugs. Lawman in jail... eheh..."
Struggling with the wash of fear in the face of the unknown, which threatened to make itself known through small tells that Mahone would read like a children's storybook, Michael set his jaw. He barely kept from blinking at such close, heated proximity, Mahone's auburn curls brushing his sweat filmed brow. Scofield grabbed at his pooled reserve of anger, clutching at it like a shield as he growled, "Nothing less than what you deserve."
"Had to be done." Alex hissed, the former Company lapdog had his hackles raised, "They threatened my *family*. You know what that's like. You WILL not lie to my face and say otherwise."
The born authority in that hardened voice made Michael focus. Go past the hate, the hurt. The anger. Scofield deflated a little, "Your Ex...?"
"And my boy." Mahone nearly sagged in relief. In light of the fact that the kid was actually speaking to him. But it merely showed with one less wrinkle in his brow. He released his held breath, pressing his hot forehead against the cool stone wall, not missing the flinch in Michael at this movement, all but pressing their clothed bodies together. He allowed a small smirk at that, before letting it be known, "Don't get me wrong, Scofield. I loved my family. Still do. But they can't be a part of my life. I won't let 'em. They can't handle the Company. They can't handle me."
Michael attempted levity, though strained as it was through his forced chuckle, "There someone who can?"
Mahone paused at that, tired brain churning at an increasing rate. Images of past and present flit through his mind. Different scenery. Different people. But one face remained. One face was a constant.
"Yeah..." Mahone's face was plastered against the wall, his mumbling barely heard, "Yeah, there is..."
Frowning, Michael tried his best not to inhale the muscular scent of the solid body encompassing him, turning his head to look at the visible side of Mahone's face, millimeters from his own. Hesitant, Scofield uttered in disbelief, "Really?... Who?"
Alex shifted to gaze into those blue eyes, narrowed but clearly saturated in fear and apprehension. Michael Scofield's uncertainty was intoxicating, and Alex breathed it in, getting higher than he would off any drug. The younger was always putting up a brave front. Always untouchable. Unreadable. Calmly calculating.
With everyone but Mahone.
Fact of the matter was, it pleased Alex to no end to know this.
Alex cracked a grin, his response dipped in his velvet tones, "You, Michael."
Michael was stunned mute. If he had been struggling to breath before, it was like a vacuum had torn open, making it utterly impossible now. This game of cat and mouse had been frustrating. Fun, but irritating in their evenly matched wits. But never in a thousand years would Michael have known...
Would have thought...
No.
For the first time Scofield felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under him, completely unbalancing him. It was completely unnerving for one who thought of endless possibilities, countless outcomes, all in a juggling act boiling down to a simple need for control. Control over every single situation. His brother was the only one who had called him out. Sure, he could control things. Map out environments, master timings of events. But one factor consistently eluded the architectural genius.
People.
Particularly the kind like Alex Mahone.
The only person to have successfully blindsided one confused Michael Scofield to date.
For once in his life, Michael could feel his emotions running rampant across his face. Shock. Disbelief. Confusion. His mouth opened and closed with strangled words that died on his lips. And Mahone was just having a ball. Grinning toothily from ear to ear. Just when the inklings of something *more* started to seep through, Scofield clamped everything down with denial and anger, glaring at the older man through sky blue eyes, as he bit out, "Funny, Mahone. But I have things to do. Places to be."
Alex let his eyes flick down to Michael's lips, licking his own as he paused to lean closer, disbelief brimming his tone, "Do you now...?"
Michael grew rigid for the briefest of moments, but just long enough for Alex to notice, before simply shoving the taller man away as he bit out with a growl, "Yes, I do."
The former assassin easily turned his sudden forced removal into a backwards saunter, casually tucking his hands in his pockets as he came to a stop and shrugged, "Another time, then."
From the dark scowl he received at the reply, Mahone knew what the other's thoughts were on that shadowed command. Too strong to be a suggestion, too demanding to be a request.
But Alex merely chucked.
He had lost the brief battle of wills. But had gained an upper hand on winning the war.
He would have Michael Scofield. There was no doubt about that.
The question was a mere matter of when.