There are some things Michael knows.
He knows he has been running too long and now the reason to run has been taken from him.
Michael watched his reason die in his arms and blames himself for every last painful breath his brother took before his heart stilled.
He knows he will never forget the sight of Linc lying lifeless in his arms; he won't forget how it feels to know that nothing he could do, no matter how elaborate the plan could ever bring his brother back to him.
Michael's remembers his tears falling like rain that day.
Michael knows that Sara is out there alone somewhere, either dead or dying because of him. And this is a pain that joins the many others, but screams so much louder than most.
Except of course for the pain of watching Lincoln die a senseless death because he himself couldn't do this one thing right.
He couldn't save his brother.
Michael knows that he has done things that he will never be able to set right.
He knows that people have died because of his actions; families have lost loved ones in his efforts to save his own.
Michael looks up at the cloud covered night and his tears shine in the glow of the half moon visible from his station in the cold damp ally.
He wonders if they will find him here in the morning shriveled up and dying like his heart.
Will he still be here, or will he be locked away inside himself like when he was younger and the world became too strong for him to wrestle?
Michael knows that the time has come for him to stop running; to own up to his failures.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small pocket knife he picked up somewhere along his journey. He opens its blade and stares at the reflection of the man he has become telling himself this is for the best; this is the path he chose when he made the decision to fight for his brother's life.
Michael places the blade against the flesh of his wrist and looks again to the sky as if for forgiveness.
He pushes the blade into his inked skin and closes his eyes tightly as he jerks, feeling the jet like rush of his life shoot to the surface.
Michael opens his eyes and follows the trail as it runs to pool in the crook of his elbow, running down onto his jean clad leg. He marvels at its warmth on his cold skin and moves to the other wrist.
He pulls the knife deep and quick and another jet of life leaves his body.
Michael wonders how he came to this place in his life; how it is that he will die alone and so cold, when all he ever wanted was to save his family.
He knows the sky isn't darkening, that it is his vision going dim as the life blood runs out of him.
Michael thinks of Sara one last time and finds words falling from his lips, his voice echoing alone along the empty ally.
"I'm so sorry, Sara. I'm so sorry for everything".
His body relaxes as his last breath leaves him...
It is over for the brothers...
Everything has come to an end.