AU PB slash fiction
Pairing: Michael Scofield/Lincoln Burrows (no incest)
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First day of a five year sentence at Fox River and Michael nearly threw up before he had even reached his cell. The guards had laughed while he had puked until acid and blood was all that was left, burning his throat and bringing much unwanted tears to his eyes. The dragged him and six other guys of varying ages and builds to the cell block and assigned them cells. Michael was in cell 29 he found out when they came to a stop by it. Inside was a huge white guy with dark hair only a little longer than Michael's own extremely short head of hair. The man, who was sitting on the top bunk staring at a photograph in his large hands, didn't even spare Michael a look as he entered the cell. The door closed and Michael turned to the guard, his eyes begging for something he knew they would never give him. His freedom.
"Relax, Scofield, Linc the sink spends more time in the SHU than most and he's not interested in that pretty little body of yours; he's got a gal on the outside; which is more than I can say for some of the others in here!" the guard chortled.
Fear licked through Michael's veins but from the sound of it 'Linc the Sink' wouldn't give him much trouble, but he'd have to look after himself in the yard and the showers. Of course his nick name wasn't very comforting; whatever it meant. "What is he in for?" Michael asked to the guard who was walking down the line.
"Murder." Was the response and three guards; one by the name for Bellick, laughed cruelly before opening up another cell and thrusting another 'fish' into it.
Michael knew some stuff about prison. After all his dad had spent half his time in prison and the other half blind drunk, it had been hard not to pick up some of the lingo. He knew that a 'fish' was a new inmate. He also knew that the SHU meant solitary confinement although he didn't remember what it stood for. He also knew, all too well, what a Maytag was and that C.O. (correctional officer)'s were also known as bulls, pigs, and a variety of things with unpleasant animalistic associations – but that the correct way to address them to their faces was 'Boss'. But what he knew most of all was that he had a five year 'bit' to get through with the soonest possible parole date in nearly three years. He would be thirty by the time he got out! Thirty years old with nothing to show for it except shame and pain. At least he wasn't like his dad; leaving behind a wife and two kids. Leaving behind Michael and his little sister Juliet Scofield.
Michael sat on the bed feeling numb. Gone was the feeling that he was about to cry, and God he hoped to hell it stayed gone. To survive he was going to need a heart of iron and eyes of stone. So he lay back on the bottom bunk, and concentrated on the wall opposite him, taking in the tiny details of chips and dents and dirt. He found himself lost inside the detail in a way only his low latent inhibition allowed him to do so and suddenly it was two hours later and Linc was jumping down from his bed and shaking him, telling him it was time to eat.
TBC?!?!!