LJ fic. Gen. It feels clunky and wrong. I'm not sure if this is gonna be the final version or not. It started out one way and ended up another so I'm not sure how good it is. In fact? The more I think about it the more I dislike it, mainly I'm posting this for C&C. See something you don't like? A specific part that doesn't feel particularly "right" or like it fits? Tell me. Please. I want this to feel less crappy.
Status: In Progress
Fandom(s): Prison Break
Characters: LJ, Veronica, Lisa
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Prompt: #95 Grieve.
Summary: Deep breaths.
Deepbreathdeepbreathdeepbreath... In. Out. In, out. In out, inout inoutinoutinout in.
Out. Deep breaths, calm breaths, just like Mom says. Said. Just like she said because she's not here anymore and that means he's all alone and-- no! No, can't think about it because thinking about it makes it real and, and then... Deep, shuddering breath in, short gasp out. Shallow breath in, short breath out, quicker and quicker and quicker until he starts to feel dizzy and his eyes sting and then he's coughing and gagging and then...
In. Deep breath and hold it and don't cry because it's not manly and everything is gonna be okay except it's not because Mom's dead and Adrien's dead and if Veronica can't do whatever it is she's trying to do then Dad's gonna die too and then he'll be an orphan, and it won't get better because this isn't some stupid book or movie and everything is different and it's not gonna be the same and it's never going to be the same again.
Another deep breath, too deep this time and he gags as his stomach tightens up and if there were anything in it it wouldn't be there anymore but instead there's a burning feeling in the back of his throat and he can taste the stomach-acid right on the center of his tongue as he spits out a mouth full of saliva.
He's been thinking about death and... other things lately. He never did much before, not until Dad got turned down the last time and it's hard for him to remember a time when he wouldn't call him dad even though he knows that for most of his life he was either "Lincoln" or "that guy" or on one particular occasion "the sperm donor."
He never really liked his Dad until recently. He never really understood why he didn't like him either, just that Mom didn't and so he didn't either. He knows that for a year or so when he was little him and Mom lived with Dad and Uncle Mike and he remembers a little bit of it but not much. He remembers the Sunday breakfasts and blueberry pancakes and he remembers playing Hot Lava with Uncle Mike. He also remembers Mom waking him up one night and telling him that they had to leave because Daddy shouldn't be around little kids ever and then that was it. Well, almost it. He still got to see Lincoln once in a while but the visits were few and far between and usually only happened after lots of begging and even then they only lasted for a few hours at a time usually.
When he was nine he told one of his teachers that she couldn't call Mom because she was at work and she couldn't talk to Lincoln because he wasn't supposed to be around kids. He had to go see the counselor and possibly may have said something wrong when he told her that he didn't like it when Lincoln gave him baths. He was too young to think to explain that he didn't like the way he got shampoo in his eyes. Mom and the teacher and the principal and the counselor had a talk and then when Mommy was driving home she explained to him that "Daddy" was a "bad role model" and "shouldn't be allowed around impressionable minds." He remembers because Mom used to love to tell the story all the time, she thought it was cute. He never really liked it and wished she would stop telling it to everyone.
He knows he's going to miss it now. And he's going to miss the way she always smelled kinda stale like cigarettes, and the way she used to scream at him from downstairs when he got a phone call and the way she... He takes another deep breath and the tears flow harder but he's given up trying to stop them. His chest burns and his stomach hurts and he's sitting at the foot of the bed in the cabin, with Veronica asleep under the covers and Nick on the ground next to it.
He misses being able to go to the bathroom with the door closed, he can't anymore because he's afraid that he'll close he door and when he opens it no one will be alive on the other side. His stomach lurches again as he thinks this and this time his gagging is loud enough that Veronica wakes up.
"LJ? Are you okay?" He can feel his chin shaking and he tries to keep his voice from shaking when he answers.
"I'm fine." He's not sure how that could've sounded more like a lie but he wipes away his tears wills her to go back to sleep.
"No you aren't sweetie, come up here." He doesn't move. "Please LJ?" He stayed where he was for another moment before giving in and climbing up onto the bed next to her. The two of them sit for a moment face to face and he tries to hold on to every last bit of strength he has but finally he breaks. Before he can fully comprehend it he's crying and gasping and sobbing into her shoulder and she has her arms around him and she's rubbing his back like his Mom used to when he was sick. And then he starts crying harder and squeezing her and gasping and begging and pleading with her.
"Please don't let him die, please I don't want him to die too please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please! Just don't let him die, please!"