Title: Escape
Disclaimer: Me no own, You no sue
Warnings: Character death, incestous slash
Notes: AU. All the other convicts are in jail or dead except Michael and Lincoln.
-z-
They run, run as fast as they can because this is the end and they try, try so hard to stay free but there are some things that are just inescapable.
Water splashes up to their knees and the scent of the salt and water and fish cloaks their bodies as they race one another. Each loving the smell of the ocean and the fire in their soul and the orange and red of the setting sun.
Then Michael falls, taking Lincoln with him. They fall face-forward into the water and roll. Lincoln ends up on top of his brother and just doesn't move, he's laughing hard while still trying to ask if Michael was okay. Michael doesn't say anything, he's laughing, too.
They stayed like that for a while, the sun setting on the horizon and a helicopter's whirring blades only a distant sound, for now at least.
"I don't want to go back," Lincoln says as he buries his face in his brother's neck, inhaling the scent that is all Michael, it was the same scent that he dreamed about in prison, imagined as he touched himself, smelled every night since they freed themselves.
"We won't," Michael replies, talking as one would to a child. He knew that this was where it would end, for better or worse. They were near exhaustion now and the chopper was getting closer, as were the sirens.
"Where will we go?" Lincoln sat up, sitting side-by-side with Michael, hand resting on his brother's hip.
"To where ever people like us can go," Michael closed his eyes.
"We won't end up in the same place," Lincoln watched the horizon where the chopper was just about to appear. "You're too good a person, and I'm too much of a fuck-up."
"We'll stay together," Michael said patiently, "we always end up together in the end."
The sirens were closer and the police helicopter was now in full view. Lincoln leaned down and pressed his lips to Michael's forehead, loving the taste of sweat and salt.
"Well, it's time to go, baby brother," he whispered and stood.
-z-
"Today," Betty Wright smiled at the camera and folded her hands on the desk, "justice has been served. Lincoln Burrows and Michael Scofield, the last of the Fox River Eight, have been gunned down."
Jonathan Abruzzi watched the television screen from his spot on the hospital bed and wept silently.
-z-
"The two convicts had been on the run for a little over a year, before the authorities were able to discover the brothers' whereabouts," Mrs. Wright continued, her pale and sharp eyes stared out over the cafeteria.
Fernando Sucre hung his head low and sobbed quietly. None of the other inmates moved to offer him comfort.
-z-
"However, it was thanks to an anonymous tip that the Mexican police were able to locate the brothers. Scofield and Burrows managed to elude the officers, leading a high speed chase on two motorcycles, eventually crossing back over into America, riding the coastline."
C-Note buried his hands in his pockets, threw his head back and laughed. The members of his crew raised their eyebrows and exchanged looks.
-z-
Their bodies were never found.
While it was true that it was bullets that finally stole the breath away from Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows, it was the ocean's current that swept them away into its mighty depths, ending their journey and giving them their freedom because that's the only thing that they ever really wanted.