Title: Toll
Characters: Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows
Summary: Lest we forget. We will remember them.
Genre: General. Post-Sona. Spoilers S3.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Prison Break? Not mine.

"I have nothing of hers."

Lincoln looked up at his brother's quiet words. "Michael- "

"Did you- Did she have...on her- No. No, forget I asked."

Lincoln turned away, closing his eyes. "Nothing," he replied, harshly. "And, it's not much, but you've got..." he started, carefully, but trailed off at Michael's expression. Watched those long fingers smooth the creased rectangle of paper, two of its corners bent, the back grimy and sweat-stained.

"No. No, if this is anything, it's a...memento mori."

"No way, man - I remember one of those in Mom's old family album. Fucking creeped me out - picture of the dead, all posed- " he stopped. "Christ, Michael, I'm sorry- "

"Why? Sara is dead, Linc. She's dead."

---------------------------

He jerked out of his doze to the sound of tearing paper. "NO!" He started towards his brother, too late. "What- Why the fuck did you do that, Michael?" he asked, dazed. "It was all you had- "

"No. It wasn't even a memento mori. Not really. They were the final, sometimes the only, remembrance of a loved one - all laid to rest. At peace. Meant to bring closure and acceptance - the last step in the circle of life. They weren't supposed to be images of...fear. Despair. The condemned." He opened his clenched fist and watched the torn shreds drift to the ground. Let his head fall back against the wall. "I won't remember her like that, Lincoln. Anymore than I'd remember you as a dead man walking to the chair."

Lincoln sank back to his side of the small room. "I hope you'll never regret it, Mike - it was something..."

"I won't. I want to remember her as she was - as we were - on that last day. The boat. All of us, together. Happy, relieved. You were free, Sara was free. I felt...joy. And then it all got fucked up to kingdom come."

---------------------------

"We only kissed a few times, you know. But I remember the taste of her. And her scent. On the boat. Sunshine on clean skin - Sara's skin - the best smell in the world. It's the most primal sense, smell. Linked to our primitive brain. And it has the longest memory..."

"Sleep, Michael."

"I can't."

---------------------------

Michael knew his brother and his friend were keeping something from him. "It's okay, Linc. I won't ask."

"About what?"

"Whatever you and Sucre are hiding from me - not talking about. Neither of you has wavered from your story. No matter how many questions I ask. And you both knew I'd ask a lot."

"We've told you- "

"You also know my imagination, Linc. And, if you're willing to let me imagine rather than tell me, then...I don't think I want to know. I'll trust your judgement."

Linc rubbed his hands across his shorn head, before returning to his rhythmic bumping against the wall. "Christ, where the fucking hell are they?"

---------------------------

Listening to the church bells toll in the distance, Michael closed his eyes and watched the parade of dead marching behind his eyelids. So many, so- "Oh, god, Linc, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! All this time- Vee- You-you heard- And Sara- You saw- Found- "

Lincoln reached his brother, and grasped his shoulders. "Stop it, Mike!"

"And Lisa - LJ saw, Linc! His mother- And Sara- He's just a boy-"

"No! No, Michael, he didn't see! He didn't know till- "

"They're gone, Linc. All dead. Mom. Vee. Lisa. Sara," he finished, starting to shake.

Lincoln sank down next to him, clasping him close. "It's okay, Michael, it's okay... "

"The women in our family are not blessed."

"No, they aren't," he agreed, his voice as desolate as his brother's. "So, neither are we."

"I'm so tired, Linc."

"I know, Mike, I know. Just close your eyes - rest. Don't think of sleeping, don't think of anything. Just breathe. Rest..."

They waited in silence for Sucre and LJ.

---------------------------

"I want to destroy them. All of them."

"And we will, Michael," Linc said, fiercely. Wrapping his hands around his brother's head, he stared him in the eye. "When you're more rested, you're going to put that big, strange, beautiful brain to work. You'll come up with a plan. And we'll do it. All of us."

"Everything they stand for. Razed to the ground. Like our lives. Pictures, letters, mementos... It's all gone, Linc - like they're all gone."

"I know, Mike," he acknowledged, brokenly. "So, we'll see it through. To the end. For us and for ours. All of them. Mom, Dad, Vee, Lisa. And Sara."

"Yes."

"Our family."

---------------------------

"Linc? What did Mom die of?"

"Fucked if I really know. Something pretty rare, anyway. Some weird kind of cancer, I always thought. Why?"

"Nothing..."

"Nothing, crap! Michael, the Company couldn't have had- I mean, how- Why- "

"Dad re-surfaced. He came looking for us."

"Oh, Christ, Mike! God, no, not Mom, too..."

"It's okay, Linc. We'll rest, and then we'll get them. Don't worry - I'll think of something."

---------------------------

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,

Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,

As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,

To the end, to the end, they remain.

- Laurence Robert Binyon, To The Fallen

---------