Feb. 22nd, 2008 11:50 pm
[identity profile] posting in [community profile] michaelxmahone
Rating: R
Pairing: Michael/Alex
Summary: When they are separated after escaping from Sona, Michael tracks down Alex…but the reunion is not what he had hoped for. Is there more to the story?
Author’s note: This was written to answer some speculation concerning Alex Mahone’s current motivations for doing what he is doing in the series….this is my take on why he might be doing it.
Disclaimer: I do not own PB. If I did, WF would never have been forced to wear that hat!


So, Michael had found you. You thought you were being so clever, but Michael was always way too smart for his own good—and always one step ahead of you. You looked through your peephole and saw him standing on the other side of your door.

Your heart sank as you opened the door to face him for the first time since you had escaped Sona and been separated at that warehouse four months before.

He was so damned happy to see you. That’s what made the whole thing so fucking hard.

Michael looked about ten years old. He was smiling so broadly, and his whole body trembled with a kinetic desire for you that you felt as well, but knew you had to hide.

This was going to be one of the hardest things that you ever had to do in your life—which was saying a lot, considering your life-- but it had to be done—for everyone’s sake. Especially Michael’s.

“Alex!” Michael breathed, stepping towards you, expecting to be welcomed into your arms, but you held him back at arm’s length instead.

“What are you doing here, Michael?” you said coldly, not returning his joyous smile--and Michael’s smile faltered in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together, trying to gauge your mood and the reason for it. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out what was going on with you.

“What…?” he stuttered, “I thought…I just…thought you’d be happy to see me? I found you! I didn’t think I would….I’ve been looking for you since you ran off that day. I’m sorry about Linc…he gets like that. He can be an asshole, but I’ve explained everything to him and he promises that he won’t…”

“I’ll ask again,” you cut him off quickly, your heart breaking in your chest at the hurt you are about to cause him, “What are you doing here, Michael?”

Silence as Michael tried to understand the change in you. Why were you being so short with him? So…mean? Then, “Alex, what’s wrong? What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be happy to see me. This is what we both wanted! What we planned for…”

Your face was set in stone and your eyes were cold and piercing as you replied, “Well, I’m not happy to see you—and this is not what I wanted at all. Why would you think I’d want to ever see you again?”

Michael looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. Joy was very quickly turning to confusion and despair, “What…? I just thought….I mean, after everything we went through together—at Sona? And…after what we…did together…”

You managed a cold laugh that made Michael jump at the sharp tone of it, “You cannot be serious, Michael! You can’t possibly be that naive! I used you, Michael! I needed a ticket out of Sona, and you were that ticket.”

“Don’t do this,” Michael whispered harshly, “Alex…please…I love you!”

“Get out of here, Scofield.” You returned; cold, emotionless, hard.

“WHAT? Alex? But….you told me…you said you loved me too.” Michael justified weakly, knowing how silly it sounded, “Don’t you remember what we said? The promises we made?”

Again, you laughed in his face, “I would have told you anything to be part of the escape, Michael!”

Michael began to shake his head slowly, trying to deny your words, “NO…no, you told me we were soul mates…we were going to…be together.”

“Yeah, right—that’s why I ran the first chance I got!” you laughed sarcastically, “You’re not as smart as everyone thinks, are you, Michael?”

Michael considered your words, but—of course—he had an explanation:

“I thought you ran because you thought it would be harder for us to get caught if we split up….or because of Linc….you said if we got separated, that we’d find each other later… we’d catch up later…and that’s what I’ve been trying to do--I’ve been looking for you for months!”

“Yeah, well…I haven’t been looking for you, and I don’t want to ‘be together’—so just get out of here, okay?”

Your eyes darted past Michael to look around on the street, the windows across the street, and the passing cars. Any one of them could have a company man watching—and if they saw Michael Scofield, they would not think twice about blowing off his head. You knew that much. You had to get Michael out of there as quickly as possible.

Michael staggered back on the front step of your apartment in Panama City. He looked like he had been punched in the stomach. He looked absolutely devastated by your words.

You had hoped this day would never come.

You had hoped to God that Michael would not find you—that he would be too busy running for his own life to worry about you—and then you could go and find him later…after…when you were both safe.

You had taken care to go underground for months after escaping Sona. You had changed your name and your appearance. But here you were, barely three weeks in your nice, new place—and Michael had found you. Damn, the man was good….

“What’s wrong with you, Alex? Why are you doing this? What aren’t you telling me?” Michael sounded gutted, close to tears.

He was, of course, also reading you like a book, and you knew that if you didn’t convince him that you really were an asshole who had totally used him to get out of Sona, and if you didn’t do it in the next five minutes or so, Whistler was going to show up and it would all be over.

You had to get really cruel now.

Stepping into Michael’s personal space, you leaned into his face menacingly, “Ya wanna know what I’m NOT telling you? Fine! I’ll tell you! I used you, Michael! I didn’t mean anything I ever said to you, and I used you to get out of Sona. I don’t care about you, and I sure as hell don’t care if you ‘love’ me. I fucked you and you know why? Because I knew it was what you wanted. You were…so fuckin’ needy and lonely and fucked up, and I knew if I just gave you a good time in the sack, you’d do anything for me…get me out of Sona, let me part of your escape plan…so that’s what I did. Pure and simple. Now, I’m sorry that you wasted your time coming here….but you need to get the fuck off my porch!”

In a small voice that was practically a whisper, Michael replied, “You told me…”

“I told you a lot of things! So what? Whistler told you he was a fucking fisherman! He was lying—and so was I! Get over it!”

You shoved him then—hard. He fell back and landed on his ass on the road in front of your place, staring up at you with a mixture of devastation, betrayal, and sad acceptance that made you want to take him in your arms and never, ever let him go.

“I know Whistler lied, but..he didn’t make love to me. You did.” He whimpered as he lay there, staring up at you—and you wanted to die; die rather than hurt him any more. God, why was he making this so hard?

Taking a deep breath, you continued your verbal assault.

“No, I didn’t—I didn’t ‘make love’ to you, Scofield. I fucked you. It was nice—you’re a good fuck, okay? But that’s all it was. Now get out of here—before you get hurt!”

You slammed your front door and collapsed back against it, panting your breaths and trying to keep tears from forming in your eyes.

You told yourself that you had done the right thing. Maybe one day, you would be able to make all of it right with Michael—if he survived; if you did—but until then, this is how it had to be.

You told yourself that—but you didn’t believe it, not for a moment. So, you threw open your front door again, ready to go after Michael and beg his forgiveness and tell him the whole truth…but when you opened the door, you were not looking at the beautiful face of your former lover—you were looking into the face of James Whistler.

He gave you a half smile, “I saw your little boyfriend, Alex. I was going to blow his head off, but I couldn’t get a clear shot. How did your little reunion go?”

You swallowed against the bile that rose in the back of your throat, “It went fine. I got rid of him.”

Whistler gave you a pat on the shoulder mockingly, “Oh, and you look so sad about it too. I knew you had feelings for him.”

“I didn’t!” you tell him, because that is what you have to say, “I don’t. I used him, just like you did. I just lied to him, like you.”

“Oh, I think you did more than just use and lie to Scofield, Alex. I seem to recall hearing the two of you at night in Sona, going at it like dogs in heat. You serviced him quite well in bed!”

“I did what I had to do to get out of that hellhole.” You replied through gritted teeth.

“And that’s all it was?” Whistler questioned, clearly suspicious, “You felt…nothing for him?”

You looked Whistler straight in the eye and lied to him, “No, I never felt a thing.”

Whistler seemed convinced. He slapped you on the back, “Good! Glad to hear it. Well, he’s gone now. Let’s talk business….oh, of course, you know this place is completely bugged, don’t you? I’ll be listening to the recording of your conversation with Scofield tonight…so, I hope that you aren’t lying to me about what went on here today.”

God, you hated this man!

You managed a smile, “Listen all you want. I have nothing to hide.”

Whistler smiled his reptilian smile and you felt your blood run cold. What the hell were you doing there? Why had you ever agreed to this?


Living on your own had its advantages. You did not have to hide your emotions. As soon as you arrived back at your hotel after your ‘reunion’ with Alex, you laid down on the large king sized bed--the same bed that you had spent the previous night masturbating in, fantasising about what you would do with Alex when you saw him the next day—and cried and cried.

You felt like such a fool. Of course, the man had used you! How could you have been stupid enough to think he cared anything about you? Lincoln had warned you, telling you that he was bad news, that he would hurt you…but you had been so sure, so certain that Lincoln was wrong about Mahone. Yes, he had run and left you behind, but the two of you had talked about that very scenario in Sona…and Alex had told you, “If it looks like things are about to go south, I’ll run in a different direction, give you and Lincoln a chance to get away.”

You had been reluctant to agree, “But what if they catch you?”

But Mahone had just smiled knowingly, “They won’t.”

At the time you had found his self assured attitude refreshing and inspiring—now it just left you cold—but at the time, you were falling in love and blinded by it. You had kissed him, “But how will we find each other again—if we get separated?”

Alex made love to then, as he did so, he had whispered, “If we get separated, don’t worry. When things calm down, I’ll find you.”

Well, you had found him first—for all the good it had done you.

As he came deep inside of you that night in Sona, you had said it for the first time, though you had been feeling it for days before hand.

“I love you!” you had gasped, breathless against his sweat slicked skin. And Alex had pulled you close, kissing you deeply, stroking you to orgasm, before whispering in your ear, “I love you too, Michael.”

It hurt so much to remember that now—even though that had been the one memory that had kept you going all these months, all this time, without him. You had not even known if he was still alive, but you knew he loved you—and that was enough for you. It kept you sane. It kept you focused. It kept you hopeful….but it had been a lie.

You curled up into the foetal position and sobbed. It had all been a lie. Mahone was never going to find you. He wasn’t even looking for you. He was happy to get away as soon as he could—the story of your life: Everyone left and nobody cared. Why should Mahone be any different?


A year later, you were still single, despite LJ’s recent attempts to set you up, and you were living on the outskirts of Mexico City. You did volunteer work at the local shelter and tutored some kids from the slums. You didn’t need to work—Lincoln had sued the government for Wrongful Imprisonment and won—and he sent you half of the amount, which was enough to set you up for life.

You had watched, with burning and increasing interest over the past year, as the Company had fallen apart. Half of the members dead, the other half in prison or on the run from authorities in nine countries, the once mighty conspiracy was a shell of its former self. You learned of its demise like everyone else did—on CNN. Everyday there was another story about highly placed members being found dead or killing themselves.

The USA and United Kingdom were both holding official hearings on the subject of the Company and its influence. Scores of scientists, bankers and businessmen of good repute were arrested as members, brought to trial, sent to jail. It was surreal…and almost as if someone from inside the organization was orchestrating it all. You knew enough about the Company to know that you might be able to kill one or two of its members, but the overall organization remained as powerful and evil as ever—quickly replacing those who died—until now. Now, they were truly being beaten at their own game, and you knew—just from experience—that an outsider could never have done it. It had to be coming from inside. There had to be a mole within the group—someone they trusted—who was systematically ruining them, one by one.

It made you happy—after all, you had been unable to do it. Oh sure, over the last year, you had managed to kill a few of their operatives—among them Gretchen, whom you shot in the back of the head in the middle of nowhere, on a deserted road in Mexico—but you had never come close to bringing the whole thing crashing down.

Someone else was doing that.

Lincoln was visiting and he had gone out to grocery shop when there was a knock on the door of your apartment. Your stomach clenched because you were still afraid to open your door, even after a year. You were still on the run, after all—and always afraid of whom might be on the other side.

Forcing yourself to relax, you threw the door open—and there before you stood Alexander Mahone.

He wore a dirty white button down shirt that was ragged at the sleeves and khakis. He also wore a fishing cap and sunglasses. He took the glasses off as soon as you opened the door and the two of you just stared at one another for a full minute, before you breathed out a soft, “Alex?”

He smiled wanly and nodded, “Michael.” He replied.

“What…what are you doing here?” you asked, “How did you…find me?’

His smile turned to a self-confident smirk as he said, “I have my ways. How are you, Michael?”

You felt dizzy, and leaned against the doorjamb to keep from falling over.

“I’m fine…I’m good.” You lied, “How are you?”

“Better than I’ve been for a very long time.” He replied softly.

Suddenly, it all came rushing back….how much he had hurt you the last time you had been face to face with him. You had been in love with him then, and hoping to run off together to start a new life…but he had laughed at you, called you naive. He told you he never loved you and only slept with you in Sona so that you would help him escape. He told you that he never wanted to see you again…he had broken your heart beyond all repair, and in the last year, you had grown to hate the man you once loved. Now, here he was on your doorstep, acting like you were old friends, just catching up with each other—the thought left you cold, and you straightened your back, standing up straight and looking directly into his eyes coldly, “Why would want to come here? I thought you made it clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

Now your voice and demeanour had gone cold and Alex recognised the shift in your mood. The light hint of a smile on his lips disappeared. He shrugged, looked away, “I just…can I come in, Michael? There is….there are things that need to be said.”

You shook your head slightly, “You can say them here.”

“Please, Michael….I need to talk to you.” He begged…and you wanted to say no, but there was something in those beautiful blue eyes of his that told you to let him in….so you did.

As soon as he entered your living room, Alex noticed the large window and walked to it, peering outside in silence, as if he was looking at something…or for someone. After a few moments, he seemed to sense you watching him, and turned back to face you, “May I trouble you for a glass of water?” he asked.

You could not quite believe the gall of the man. You threw your hands up in exasperation and rolled your eyes, turning towards the kitchen.

When you returned with the glass of water, Alex was sitting in one of your lounge chairs—but he had moved it so that he could sit in it and look out the window at the same time.

Why the fuck was he moving your furniture?

“Make yourself at home.” You said dryly, handing him the glass.

“This isn’t poisoned, right?” Alex attempted to joke.

You just gave him a half smile and sat across from him on the couch, “What was so important to say to me, Alex?”

He just gazed at you for a moment, and it made you feel uneasy. You looked away and waited for him to speak.

He cleared his throat after a long pause and began to talk to you, “I assume you’ve heard about the Company?”

Your eyes shot up and you looked him in the eyes now, “Yes. I watch the news like everyone else.”

You silently wondered if he knew you had killed Gretchen and the other two operatives? Was he a member of the Company now? It wouldn’t surprise you—maybe he was here to kill you…you suddenly regretted letting him in and felt your heart begin to race in your chest.

It wasn’t that you wanted to live so very much. You really didn’t have anything to live for--Alex had seen to that a year ago—but you didn’t want him to be the one to end your life. You didn’t want him to ‘win’.

“Relax, Michael—I’m not here to hurt you.” Alex said softly, calmly, reading your mind.

“Yeah, I guess you did enough of that a year ago.”

You tried to make your retort sound clever, but it just ended up betraying how much Alexander’s rejection of you had wounded you, and you were sorry for the words, even as they left your mouth.

“Yes, I know…I’m sorry about that.”

You snorted in laughter, “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”

He looked sad for you, like he pitied you and it pissed you off, “Get to the point, Alex.” You snarled suddenly.

Alex took a sip of his water and went on, “I was wondering if you thought that—maybe, just maybe—this whole thing with the Company was an inside job? You know, someone within its ranks betraying the members, killing them…working with the authorities to bring them down?”

You were surprised because, yes, that was exactly what you thought—and obviously Alex thought the same thing. You had always been so similar….

You nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, it certainly appears like that’s what’s happening. Is that what you think too?”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” Alex replied confidently.

“Really?” you sneered, hating his self-confident veneer, “And how would you know?”

“Because I’m the one doing it.”

Just like that, the whole world stopped spinning. The Earth shifted on its axis and your heart stopped beating. The moment seemed to be suspended in time, and though you tried to speak, no words came out of your mouth. You just sat there, stunned by his words and stared into the face of the man you had once loved, now hated.

“What?” you stuttered at last.

“Its me, Michael. I’m the mole, the insider. I’m working with…a lot of other people in law enforcement and government, but its me doing the legwork. I have been for about nine months now.”

You shook your head in utter disbelief and your eyes widened as you realised that he just might be telling the truth.

“How?” you demanded.

“Do you remember when I left Sona for a few days—to go testify against the Company?”

You nodded.

“Well, my testimony was unreliable because of my…problems at the time. But the government knew that there was some kind of organization called the Company—and they knew that Whistler was involved somehow. So, they made a deal with me after that hearing. They told me I couldn’t go back home on my testimony, but if I went back to Sona, cleaned myself up and got close to Whistler, and found out stuff I could contact them and they would see what they could do to help me. Of course, I knew about the plan to break out, and I figured Whistler would be gone by the time I got back to Sona, so I said no thanks….but you guys were still there and once we all broke out together, I remembered their offer and I called them. I told them I could get close to Whistler, and maybe even get a job within the company—bring them down from within. In return, I asked for…certain things. They agreed and I agreed. It was a Black Op. I had a lot of experience with them working for the Special Forces in the army. I knew what to do and how to do it. I figured it was my only shot at getting my life back….you were on the run and I was going to find you at some point, look you up after I completed the mission…but…you really fucked things up by finding me first.”

He paused and took a big gulp of the water you had given him. He looked upset and lost in thought, his brain working faster than he could form the words. He took a deep breath and then plunged onward, “When you…showed up at my door in Panama. I had just started the operation. The Company didn’t trust me yet—they were watching me all the time and even had my place bugged. You were in danger just being there. I had to get rid of you—I had to make you leave. And I couldn’t tell you the truth because they were listening….so I did the only thing I knew how to do. I made you hate me. I told you I didn’t care about you. I told you I just used you, so that you would hate me and leave and never come back. I know how much that…hurt you, Michael, and I’m so sorry. If you only knew how badly it hurt me to say those things to you….but I never meant any of it. I did it to protect you.”

You just stared at him as if he were speaking a different language. Your heart beat so quickly in your chest that you thought it would pop out.

Could it be true? Could it be true that he was, after all a good guy?

Could it be true that he DID care about you, that he HAD said and done those terrible things a year ago just to protect you?

You wanted so badly to believe it…but you were afraid to trust him again. You didn’t think that you could survive if he betrayed you once more.

“That all sounds…great, Alex. But…why I should I believe a word that comes out of your fucking mouth?” you asked calmly, firmly.

“I don’t expect you to,” he admitted and reached into the backpack he carried.

You drew in a deep breath suddenly—half expecting him to pull out a gun or a bomb and kill you—but he merely took out a manila folder and placed it on the coffee table, “That’s why I kept proof, evidence. Even though, if Whistler or the Company had found any of this, they would have killed me instantly…I kept a paper trail—just for you. So, you would have the proof you needed. I knew you wouldn’t believe me, so this is for you.”

You glanced down at the folder and back up at Alex, still clearly suspicious, “This could all be forged bullshit.”

“There are phone numbers in here, people you can contact-- call and find out from them directly. People in the FBI, the CIA, Army Intelligence, reliable people.”

You just stared at him—a part of you wanting to scream and cry and a part of you wanting to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him endlessly. You began to shake and tears formed in your eyes, spilling out on to your cheeks, though you tried to hide them, “Why now, Alex? Why come here now?”

Alex sighed and leaned back in his chair, “The operation is almost over. As you can surmises from the news reports, the Company is no more—just a few rogue members are left, running for their lives. I just have to tie up those loose ends, and then I’ll be free…and I did promise, when I was able to, that I would track you down, find you. Do you remember?”

You could only nod, unable to speak.

“So, that’s why I’m here. I still love you, Michael. And I know you have every reason to hate me, to be suspicious of my motives, but they are pure one—the ones I’ve always had, since we first made love…to be with you.”

You wiped tears from your face and felt as if you were hyper-venalliating. He reached out for you across the table, but you drew back as if you had been burnt, “Don’t touch me! And don’t you…don’t you…say that to me! Don’t you come here and tell me you love me when you sent me away! I’ve sent a year—a fucking year—forgetting you! Don’t you say that to me!”

Alex looked devastated by your words.

“Michael….I understand your anger, I really do. But when I agreed to do this operation, I asked for things in return—money, passports, a new identity, and new identities for my ex-wife and my son, to protect them. I also asked for my criminal record to be wiped clean. Upon completion of this operation, I will have no criminal record at all….and…I took the liberty of asking them to do the same for you…”

“What?” you gasped, awe struck.

“I asked them to wipe your slate clean as well. You won’t have to run anymore Michael—you can go home to America, get a job, live a real life again. I’d like to be a part of your life…but even if you never want to see me again, you can still have that. The details are all in that folder, who to call, how to get your record expunged…you can read it yourself after I leave.” He sounded forlorn, like he expected you to hate him, but was hoping that you wouldn’t.

“Why would do that for me?” you asked, breathless with shock.

Alex just gazed at you, “It was the least I could do for you, Michael. I wanted to do it.”

You just nodded and looked away.

“You look into it.” He pushed the file across the coffee table towards you, and you took it from him in a quick motion.

“Oh, I plan to.” You replied, trying to sound cold and convinced—even as your heart begged you to just accept it on his words alone, your head told you that you simply could not afford to do that.

Alex gave you a sad smile, “I don’t expect you to believe me. But it’s all true—and it’s all there. Just…look into it and keep an open mind, that’s all I ask.”

“How do I get in touch with you when I need…if I…want to talk to you?” you asked.

“You can’t—not yet. It’s not safe. But the operation should be…concluded by the end of the year. And then, I’ll come to you.”

You nodded slowly, then tried to laugh, “You better get out of here before Linc gets back. If he saw you, he’d kill you on general principle.”

Alex looked at you warily, “I’m sure he would.”

He reached out impulsively, taking your hand in his and kissed it before you could stop him, “I love you, Michael. I always did.”

You just stared up at him as he left, unable to say a word.

You were pale as a ghost and still sitting in the same place you had been sitting an hour before when Mahone had left. You were too stunned to move.

Lincoln took one look at you and knew something was up, “Whets wrong, Michael?” he asked, obvious concern in his gruff voice.

You just looked up at him, “When you get back to the states, I need you to look into some things for me.”

He nodded in agreement and slight confusion as you handed him the file.

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