Disclaimer: I don't own any of the guys from Prison Break, innocent, guilty, convicted or free. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Paul Scheuring, 20th Century Fox Television, Adelstein-Parouse Productions, and Original Television in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.
It had been the sex that had ruined it, T-Bag mused as he toyed with a dark wig arranged on his prosthetic hand. He smoothed the hair on the wig before he let it slide off of his hand and crumple on the table, a dark reminder of a pretty dream that had turned out wrong in the end.
He couldn't come back. He couldn't, because - as he reminded himself with a wince - Susan had wanted him to leave. And he had. He had left her. Forever. As she had wanted him to.
Repeating it was like stabbing himself, over and over, and turning the knife in the wound, but he couldn't stop himself anyway. It made him feel grateful for the inevitable knock on the door when the new girl arrived. He let her in and offered her a drink. He gulped down his own measure of the golden liquid to wash away the taste of the first one - she had been pretty enough and she had had a nice voice but in the end she had spoilt the game by being too enthusiastic about sex. Susan had never been so eager and dirty and the girl had given the game away by that.
He watched the girl as he was laying out the rules. She had bright eyes and seemed to be smart enough. She even let him put the wig on her head without any protest and looked very much like Susan who he couldn't come back to anymore afterwards. He smiled, letting his mind to do one last cold check before the game began, and as he remembered to warn the girl against too much keenes she became his Susan and he became once again her Teddy.
The pain he had felt ever since Susan had sent him off numbed. It didn't take him long to fall in the trap he had set up for himself. Soon he was basking in Susan's healing presence again and it was just the two of them together and everything was fine and everything was going to be perfect for the rest of their lives. Floating on the sheer bliss, he let the time pass until the girl fell out of the character.
Money. It always came back to money, disregarding whether you had them or lacked them, and T-Bag found it extremely ironic Susan would complain about him not giving her enough when there was still this heap of happy cash in his backpack. Only it wasn't Susan, he remembered with a throb of pain, his Susan was thousand of miles away and couldn't be reached and this was a whore mouthing off at him, and he shot back, aiming to hurt.
I dont know who this Susie-Q bitch is, but no wonder she wants nothing to do with you, the whore replied heatedly. The world disappeared behind a red curtain. Susie-Q bitch. She was no bitch - she was a saint. T-Bag acted on an automatic, unable to control his rising anger, being controlled by it instead. He might or might not hear someone screaming and someone else shouting.
When the red curtain rose, the girl was lying dead on the bed, eyes wide open, face contorted in horror.
He couldn't stay there.
But he couldn't go back to Susan. She had to look after the children and the children had to go to the school and he couldn't just hide in their house and she had been right, of course, as she always had been, his house wasn't fit to accomodate a family. He had to find a way to fix it, and it wouldn't be easy to hire workmen to do the job while he was being on the run.
"Stop it." His own voice sounded rough to him, as if he himself had been screaming wildly, but it stopped the mad train of thoughts that had been going faster and faster in his mind. First things first - he had to clean up after himself, pack up his stuff and leave before someone came looking for the girl.
He dragged her body to the bathroom and dropped it in the tube. Everything bloodied followed - there was a lot of blood. Had he been hitting her? He couldn't remember, but there was blood on his hands and arms and his bathrobe as well, so he filled the sink with hot water and made sure to scrub it all away.
He checked himself in the mirror above the sink and later again in the lift to make sure not a drop of her blood remained on him. Just as the lift opened at the ground floor he remembered the wig - it was an excellent one - which he had forgotten to pack. He'd have to buy another.
The pain was back, full force. He missed her terribly and he tried to distract himself by watching the people he was passing. There was a rush and he tried to guess from the faces of the security men who were running towards the lifts how much they knew. That turned out to be a mistake. One of them saw something in T-Bag's face - he turned - T-Bag could feel his eyes digging into his quickly retreating back - and there came the outcry. He was made and he had to run.
It would never end this way, he knew. He had to be more careful, or he'd never see his lovely Susan again. And as much as he longed for her, he couldn't even call her, for her own safety and for the safety of the children. One day, when everything would have calmed down, he would be able to come back and fix it and they would be together for the rest of their lives - but he couldn't afford to screw up now, not more than he had screwed up already. Now, he had to run.
But one day... hell, he knew she was waiting.