Michael, consumed with his grief of Sara's death finally goes insane. he is in a mental institution, he wont talk to anyone, he makes paper roses constantly. his mind had retreated to a dream world. Sara is dead and he cannot deal.
However, Sara is not dead, she was lost and only now has she found her way back. her first instinct is to find Michael.
A doctor is supporting Michael, he is desperate to help him, he wants to know what dorve the young man to this insanity.
Can Sara find him? If she finds him, can she convince him she is alive and not a figment of his imagination? Can Doctor Whitmore help him? Will Michael be able to leave his dream world? A world he has come to believe is real? A world he has come to feel safe in.
Categories: Post-Escape Characters:
Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Michael Scofield, Original Character(s), Sara Tancredi
Angst, Drama, Family, Friendship, Romance, TragedyPairing:
Darkfic, Original Characters, Spoilers S1, Spoilers S2, Spoilers S3, Work In ProgressChallenges: Dream World
Challenges: Dream World Series:
April 02, 2008 Updated:
March 27, 2011
This is in response to the challenge with the same title set by lyn. i was inspired to write it and despite having many other stories already posted i thought i would post what i have written so far of this. i hope you enjoy it. xXx
1. Echoes by Celia_Rose
2. A New Patient by Celia_Rose
3. The Doctors Thoughts by Celia_Rose
4. To Be With You In A Dream by Celia_Rose
5. Progress by Celia_Rose
6. Pieces by Celia_Rose
7. Chapter 7 by Celia_Rose
LJ smiled as he handed Michael the rose. That origami rose he had made Sara all that time ago. It tore his heart. His nephews kindness, his sympathetic smile, young eyes. Michael could not remember his words, he was looking at the rose. His mind was consumed in his memories and his grief. It was so real. Sara was dead, he was holding this rose, it was the symbol of their love. His love still burned as fiercely as if the world was on fire. His world was on fire. Sara was dead. This rose, this small paper rose he held was all that was left of the love that had shone between them. It was all that was left of her. She was dead. Sara was dead. His heart shattered. It was searing with the pain, she was dead. He could not forget her. He could not continue. He could not exist without her, this small rose he held, this piece of paper had just become the most important thing to him. The meaning it held, he was sure he could smell her on the paper but it was just a ghost. She was gone. Gone forever and he would never get her back. This rose had taken him out of reality. It had taken away the sanity he had struggled so hard to keep since the minute he learned about her death. She was dead. Gone. Her beauty would fade with decay. He would never see her again. Never hear her gentle voice or feel her kind touch. He would never see the love and genuine goodness in her eyes. Never again and he could not handle it. It couldnt be real.
The floor was wooden but it was warm. He closed the front door, looking up at the large window above it. The stain glass glittering beautifully, twinkling in its colour. He turned to the hall, the rug laid out over the boards, he smiled. Removed his shoes and stepped onto the soft material. The warmness and the delicate feel of the fur of the rug beneath his bare feet, he smiled as he always did. He was home. He turned and looked back up at the window. The blue and green of the glass, the pictures, angels, demons fighting. It was beautiful. He heard movement in the kitchen so he stepped further into the house. There she was looking beautiful. The green and blue of their stain glass reflecting on her and her radiant form. Her auburn hair flowed down her back. She was at the sink, the gentle laps of water in the bowl as she washed the dishes. He just stood and smiled as he looked at the woman he loved. He just watched her from behind with the satisfaction that she was his and he was there.
“Mr Scofield, are you watching me?” she asked.
“Yes I am,” he replied.
“How about you give me a hand?” she asked and he stepped forward, taking up a dish and wiping it. He looked at her and smiled. She returned it warmly. There was an echoing but he could not hear what it was. He looked around the room for the sound but there was nothing but their kitchen, the stain glass windows reflecting their green and blue images of angels and demons. The tiled floor, the counters, kitchen tops and cabinets. There was nothing else around. It was just the two of them. It was just what he wanted. He could still hear the echoing.
“Michael are you alright?” She asked. He turned back to her and smiled, he took his hand up to her face and wiped the washing bubbles on her nose. She laughed and did the same thing back. There was that echoing again. He stopped and looked around, on the island counter was a single rose. An origami rose. It sat in the centre. The only thing in sight. The bright lights of the halls, the building, washed in white. Brightness. Nothingness. Empty. The door opened and there was the young man on the floor, surrounded by paper. The only sound in the room was the frantic sound of him folding the paper. Folding roses. The doctor crouched beside him, concerned for his patient. He looked at the floor surrounding him. There were paper roses everywhere. He looked up at the other doctor who stood at the door.
“How long has he been doing this?” He asked.
“Since the minute he got here,” the other doctor had obviously given up hope for the boy.
“Has he said anything?”
“All he says is ‘paper’ when he runs out,”
“Can you hear me?” the new doctor asked the young man, who was furiously working the paper into roses. There was no response he did not even acknowledge his presence. “Michael Scofield, are you listening to me?” he asked trying to sound comforting, still nothing.
The echoes persisted, he looked around their kitchen. Where was it coming from? What was it? He looked back at his wife who watched him concerned. He decided to ignore the sound and he smiled at her to assure her. He picked up the single origami rose and handed it to her. She smiled and took it. Their wet hands leaving water marks on it. He went to her and stroked her cheek. She smiled at the pleasure of his touch. He traced his finger over her lips. The echoes disappeared as he let them. He let the sound go, forgot it and proceeded to get on with his evening. His evening with his beautiful wife, Sara.
Thanks for reading, please review, id love to hear what you think so far. xXx
A New Patient by Celia_Rose
This is from the doctor's POV.
William looked at the young man sitting on the floor next to him. He was furiously making paper roses, he lay them all in lines, neat lines around himself. They were everywhere, some had been tossed aside, they scattered. The young man had piercing eyes but they never left the paper. His blue eyes occasionally filled with tears but more often affected by a frown of concentration. Paper. He folded. He shaped. He placed down with such care as though the roses were made of glass. He was not responding to his words. William felt a great need to help this young man. He could feel the bite of sorrow emanating from him. He wanted to know what his story was. He needed to know as much as he could if he was going to help him. His eyes filled with genuine concern, left the young man and he stood. Walked out, the other doctor shutting the door behind them. Everyone else seemed to have given up hope for Michael Scofield. He had patients lost before, so consumed with their insanity but there were some who could be helped. He wanted to help them all but that was impossible. Not everyone can be saved, not everyone can be helped, especially the ones who do not wish to be. He went with this other doctor and into his office.
“I am so pleased you are taking over Scofield’s case, it has been racking my brains,”
“What’s his story?”
“His girlfriend died, that’s all I know,” he said this as though it was no big deal. He had obviously never been in love.
“How did you find that out?” William wanted to know as much as possible before he proceeded with the patient.
“He has a brother, it’s all in the files,” the doctor said and handed William a huge pack of paperwork, all on Michael, he would be studying this later. It pained him to see another doctor so unfeeling towards a patient, like he really could not be bothered. He could not even be bothered to explain the story to him. ‘Its all in the files’ this angered him. He had to shake it off and he took the pack, thanking him half heartedly, since he did not like the man. He left and went into his own office, his name Doctor William Whitmore, was written on the door. He shut it and retreated himself. He had a new patient and he was keen to get as much knowledge on the young man. He wanted to help him. That was why he became a doctor.
Thanks for reading i hope you enjoyed it. xXx
The Doctors Thoughts by Celia_Rose
This chapter is sort of a fill in chapter if you know what i mean. i hope its ok.
William sat on his chair at his desk. He spread Michael Scofield’s files out over it after clearing it of everything else. So he had a brother but it seemed he did not visit much. Why was that? It seemed highly unfair and ungrateful of him since Michael had got himself sent to prison in order to break him out and then they fled across the country until they ended up in Panama. Michael got sent to prison there only to break out again. The files said that it was Lincoln, Michael’s brother who informed the hospital of how his girlfriend was killed. He said that an organisation called The Company had killed her, he also told them that they were the reason Michael had to break out of the Panamanian prison to deliver them an inmate in exchange for his nephew and girlfriend. The girlfriend had been killed, Sara was her name, but the boy was given back to them unharmed. This Michael Scofield had been through a lot. It seemed that the death of his love caused the mental break. He had entered a state of immense grief and the only way he could deal was by making the origami roses.
William had slipped one into his pocket when he had been in the room, and he sat now twiddling it in his fingers. It meant something to their relationship. It was a symbol. That poor young man to have to go through this grief. His non responsive personality, William could make a guess that he had entered a world where everything was how he wanted it to be. That was the only way he could cope. William hoped that he could get some response from him, he wanted him to say something other than ‘paper‘. The young man needed to talk; he could not be consumed by this. William was determined to help him.
I hope you enjoyed reading. Love Celia xXx
To Be With You In A Dream by Celia_Rose
Hey, here's an update, i hope you like it.
Michael was making the dinner in the kitchen, he wanted Sara to relax, he wanted her to put her feet up in the living room. She had a hard day today. In the silence he could hear her flicking the pages of a magazine. He smiled. The food was almost ready and then the door bell rang. He did not hear Sara move to get it so he turned the over down and sprinted to it. He opened the door a light so bright he had to squint. He could hear children playing. Then he saw some girls skipping and singing.
“Roses are red, violets are blue, you love her and she loves you.” the song repeated over and over as the children played in the bright white light of outside and it made him smile. He walked back inside shutting the door, he caught a glimpse of Sara on the couch, she looked up but he was gone. Dinner was ready. He took it in to her, they were having it on their knees. She discarded the magazine and he noticed the front page was pure black, no pictures, no writing. He shook it off and took a seat next to his beautiful wife and they ate. He pleasured in Sara’s little sounds of enjoyment of the meal. She looked at him and smiled. She was so sweet and beautiful, he could not believe they were finally together, safe. It was just the two of them in the whole world.
“Are you as happy as I am, Sara?” he asked. She looked at him surprised.
“You don’t even need to ask me, this is what I want, it is what I always wanted, to be here with you, only you,”
“I cost you so much,”
“It usually is a high price to pay when someone finds their soul mate a lot has to be sacrificed,” she paused and looked at him smiling, “it was so worth it,” she said and put the plate down on the floor, he did the same. He placed a hand on her cheek and his fingers went through her hair. He looked into her eyes and then leaned in to kiss her. She fell back on the sofa letting him into her. His body was on hers, their lips were locked. Her hands roamed over his body. And then she was removing her clothes. He took off his long sleeved tee shirt, there were no tattoos. The light from outside cast a reflection of the stained glass windows green and blue on his torso, the windows were reflecting images of his tattoos onto his skin. But his skin was clear, nothing marred it. He ignored it because he was right where he wanted to be. With Sara.
He resumed kissing her passionately, softly, fiercely. She responded in every way. Her hands slid down the back of his pants, her nails digging softly into the round, toned muscles of his backside.
“Take them off,” she breathed and he obeyed and she did the same. He climbed back onto her, they were both naked now. She kissed him, it seemed she was unable to wait any longer. And neither of them, would ever have to wait for each other again.
Thank you for reading. Please let me know if your still enjoying this. Thank you.
Hey, its been a while but I got some inspo back for this story so I thought I would just add another short chapter. Hope you enjoy.
William decided that to have Michael’s brother here as often as possible would help the young man. He tried to call him up but there was no answer. Considering just how much Michael had done for his brother, William felt it was pure cruelty and ungratefulness to just neglect the young man now he was in a mental institution. If he ever got hold of Lincoln and met him, he would keep his own feelings about the situation in check, he had to remain professional. It was late at night, he should be going home but as always he was lost in his new study. He sighed and got up from his desk walking through the bleached white corridors until he got to Michael Scofield’s room. He saw that other nurses were sedating him and he was trying to fight them. It seemed he would not sleep unless they forced him to with drugs. William made his way in to see that the nurses were struggling. They backed off from Michael and William watched as he clutched a handful of paper roses, he was crying silently and staring into empty space. He was still detached despite his acknowledgement of the nurses trying to sedate him. He was clutching the roses as if his life or someone else’s depended on it. He was trembling too and William saw this as an opportunity to try and get through to him. He crouched down beside the bed where Michael was sitting, he looked at him closely.
“Michael Scofield can you hear me?”
“Paper,” he replied.
“Michael, you need your rest, let the nurses sedate you and there will be paper waiting for you in the morning,” he said softly.
“Paper!” Michael shouted in William’s face. That was slight progress the fact that he had acknowledged that he was speaking to someone real. William felt a little triumph in his chest, he knew this Michael Scofield could be helped. “Paper! Paper! Paper!” Michael yelled and threw the roses across the room. He put his head in his hands and started to rock back and forth.
“Michael, I promise you, I will be in to see you first thing in the morning with your breakfast and plenty of paper. Right now you need to sleep,” he said softly and watched as Michael lay back on the bed. William looked at the nurses who were shocked at how quickly the patient sub missed to the doctor but they did not question it, they got straight to sedating him. He saw the tattoos on Michael’s arm as they lifted his sleeve. During the struggle he got a glimpse of the angels and demons on his torso. William watched as the frown on Michael’s face disappeared and he fell into sleep. This young man was a genius, the tattoos hiding his elaborate escape plan for his brother.
“Thank you doctor,”
“No problem, I made progress with him so its no problem,” William said smiling and the nurse returned the smile and then left. William looked once more at the young man in his sleep before he exited the room as well.
He could hear Sara in the kitchen and he could hear voices outside, one stood out in particular. A male voice, kind and gentle but Michael was just sitting in his chair gazing, staring at nothing, at emptiness. That voice was soft, it almost lured him to the person speaking. He felt the need to reply to this voice that was making promises for the morning. He looked at the window at the stain glass images of angels, demons, entwining through the glass, he looked out of it but he could only see blackness.
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Yay! another chapter! I hope you like it
Lincoln woke in the night and he knew he would not find sleep again, the image of Sara’s head in that fucking box surrounded by blood, haunted him. He felt that pang in his chest all over again, the expression on Michael’s face as he died inside after hearing about Sara’s death. It had taken a part of Lincoln too, seeing his kind little brother fall to pieces in front of him. Lincoln had found it so hard to tell him and he hated himself for thinking that Michael would put LJ’s life in danger had he known about Sara having been killed. Michael loved LJ just as much and he should have known that Michael would do anything for him. He would never forget the moment LJ gave Michael that origami rose and Michael just collapsed in a heap on the floor, never to say a word. Now he was in that institution and Lincoln just could not bring himself to see the shell of his brother. It killed him to see Michael that way. Locked up in his head, making paper roses all day long, and night if they gave him the chance. Lincoln went to the kitchen in the apartment he and LJ were living in. The conspiracy had been brought to light, Lincoln was free but he was unable to celebrate it with his brother. Lincoln took a beer from the refrigerator and cracked it open. He heard a shout from LJ’s room. He put the beer down and immediately ran to LJ, he was thrashing in his sleep, crying. Lincoln went to him and shook him.
“LJ, its ok, your safe,” he said and LJ woke, his eyes wild, he looked up at his father.
“Sara,” he muttered.
“I know, I know, your safe now, I’m here,”
“They killed her,” LJ sobbed.
“I know, I know, I am so sorry, LJ, so sorry you had to be there,” Lincoln said softly, keeping his anger inside at how his son had to endure Sara’s death. If the head in the box haunted Lincoln then he could not begin to imagine what the actual murder was doing to LJ. He held his son as LJ gripped his fathers shirt tight in his hands as though making sure he was real. Lincoln could feel the tears burning his eyes, everything had gone bad. Michael was not here when he should be, Sara was dead when she should still be alive and LJ was traumatised from his experience in captive. Lincoln was the only one really holding himself together. He wanted to see Michael, he wanted to hold him, but he felt so guilty about Sara’s death and he did not think he could face his mentally ill little brother. He could not see him that way again. It was selfish but he did not think he could hold himself strong much longer and if he saw Michael in pieces again, he would surely fall into his own mess of broken pieces. He was struggling as it is, watching LJ wake up in the night crying out of fear of what he experienced.
Sara sat alone in a motel room, she had no idea how to find anyone, she was back in the states one thing for her to be grateful of but she was still hurting from the experience. Had Michael forgotten her? Was he even alright? She sat with her head in her hands crying.
Running through the Mexican fields, dry and barren land. The heat pounding down on her, the sun beating against her skin making her sweat all the more. She had woken up in an abandoned warehouse, no idea where she was, how she got there. She was alone. There was no person in sight even as she ran, she ran to what looked from this distance like a road. She would follow the road, hoping to find civilisation. She was bruised and cut, disorientated. She got closer to the road and saw a car coming as if it knew she was there. She tried to get there faster, compel her legs to move faster than was natural for her. She reached the edge of the field and started shouting and waving her arms in the air with a strength she had no idea where it came from except maybe desperation. The car stopped, she collapsed.
The images flashed through her mind but she could not remember much more than that, hitting the road was the last thing she remembered and then she woke in a hospital where she struggled to find a doctor who spoke English. Somehow she got back to the United States but no one was there waiting for her. She had no idea how to find Lincoln or Michael. She hoped that they had rescued LJ. Michael’s sweet kind hearted nephew, she hoped that the boy was alright. That they had gotten him out alive and safe. She was alive, but she didn’t feel safe. Her mind constantly went back to captivity, the fear in the boys eyes when the company people came into their room, the fear in her own chest, that woman. Gretchen Morgan. Those cold eyes, soulless, her hair black falling over her shoulders. That smile curling in an evil snarl, she was terrified of that woman, and so was LJ. Would Sara ever see Michael again? She would have to check the internet when she got the chance, see if she could find out where he was and if the conspiracy against the brothers had been solved, she had disconnected herself from the world since her freedom. She had her thoughts to gather and a clear objective to obtain. She sat on the bed, taking in deep and slow breaths and letting them out again. She closed her eyes, breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, calming herself before she set out on her mission.
Thak you for reading, please leave a comment. Thanks :)
Its been a very long time since i updated this story. I thought I would add to it now.
Michael woke in the morning, his eyes went straight to the paper on the side, he ignored the food, and scooped up the paper and made roses. He had not noticed the doctor sitting in the chair in the corner, watching him. He just needed to make roses. Roses, roses, more roses, just roses. Doctor Whitmore watched him, taking notes on his clipboard. He leaned forwards.
“Michael, what are you doing?” he asked, to see what answer Michael gave.
“Breakfast.” Michael muttered, barely acknowledging the doctor but making a response to the voice.
“Your breakfast is still on the table, Michael.” there was no response. He looked closely at the young man, his eyes focussed intently on the rose in his hands, there were thousands of them scattered all through the room. His eyes were distant, focussed on the rose, but distant from the world. The doctor wondered if any physical contact would help. He got up and bent beside Michael, he watched him make another rose, then he picked up a piece of paper and began to make one himself. He handed it to Michael, but the gesture was ignored. He placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder but still, no acknowledgement.
Michael was leaning against the counter top, eating the cereal Sara had poured for him. She was nowhere to be seen, but he was eating his breakfast. The house seemed soundless, like there was no substance to it. He could hear that voice again. He had told him where to find his breakfast. Michael looked up at the stain glass window. There was light outside, shining through, making the pictures flicker on the walls all around him. It looked like the demons were becoming real. He dropped his cereal but the bowl just bounced on the tile floor, it did not smash. Michael found this strange, but he was more concerned of the demons that appeared to be coming for him. He crouched down in a ball, hid his head under his arms and began to rock back and forth.
Doctor Whitmore saw Michael become distressed. The young man started to throw the roses about the room. He was shouting at an invisible force. Doctor Whitmore tried to restrain him, he finally helped him onto the bed. Some nurses came in, needles ready with a sedative.
“No!” William shouted, “I can calm him.” he assured. He knelt in front of Michael who was now rocking back and forth on the bed. “Michael, can you hear me?” no response. “Look at me! I’m right in front of you!” he said, but Michael pushed him away and ran towards the door, the nurses tried to restrain him, but he fought against them.
Michael ran to the corner of his house, the demons were all closing in, he could feel them trying to grab at him, trying to bring him down. He pushed them away, one was talking to him. Telling him that he was right by him, right in front of him. Another kept calling his name, taunting him. The demons were coming for him.
Michael pushed through the nurses and ran out into the hallway, he ran down and bumped into someone. The nurses caught up to him and pinned him to the wall, in an attempt to retrain him. They succeeded this time. Doctor Whitmore caught up to them, he had to let them sedate him, Michael was in too much distress, and would only hurt someone or himself. The doctor looked at the large man Michael had bumped into.
“What’s happening?” the man asked.
“Who are you?”
“Lincoln, his brother, I came to visit.”
“What determines these visits of yours, since they do not happen very often?” William asked.
“I… are you his new doctor?”
“I need to speak with you.”
William led the man into his office and they sat down, he already disliked this man, his loyalty to Michael nowhere near matched the loyalty his younger brother had for him. Lincoln looked distressed, he sat uncomfortable at the office scenario. He barely met eyes with William.
“I have to explain something to you, you probably know, we have all been through a lot. I can tell you… think I should be visiting my brother more, your tone… the thing is, I find it hard to see him this way.”
“Could you tell me a little about Sara?”
“The thing with Michael is, when he loves someone… he loves with all his heart, whether it’s a woman, me, LJ, he has… so much love and… losing Sara-”
“I know that was the trigger for this breakdown, I have noticed in my observations of Michael, that he has retreated into a dream world, where I imagine Sara is still alive, he needs to realise reality again, I am trying to bring him back.”
“You seem a lot better at your job than the last doctor, he didn’t seem to care either way.”
“Well at least we share a mutual hatred for that man.” William laughed.
Sara had made some phone calls and found out where Lincoln lived, so she was heading there. It was a small apartment block, run down, bits of building falling off the sides. She entered and made her way up the stairs, she saw a drunk old man fumbling his way down the stairs, he eyed her up well as they passed and she cringed at the smell of booze. She came to the apartment and went to knock, the door was open, she stepped in, the place did not look lived in, she could hear a rustling. She saw a stained mattress in the corner, the walls were covered in graffiti.
“Who are you?” someone shouted, she jumped, it was a man.
“I… um… I err, I’m sorry, I… I’m looking for someone…”
“So am I.”
“Who are looking for?” she asked.
“An old friend.”
“Do you know the people that used to live here?”
“Does it look like anyone’s lived here except a druggie squatter?” he replied, he smiled which made her realise he was quite handsome.
“Well I thought you were looking for someone?”
“Yeah, a druggie squatter, he owes me cash.” the man laughed.
“Right… well I better go.”
“Maybe we could help each other?” he asked.
“Trouble seems to find me easily, I wouldn’t want to drag you into anything.”
“You don’t look like the type of girl who would attract trouble, you look like a nice girl.”
“Trust me, its tough staying a nice girl when you’ve been through as much as I have.”
“Well it sounds like you’re a damsel in distress, and I refuse to leave you in that state.”
“Your kind, but why would you help me? We don’t know each other.”
“A coffee can change that.” he smiled. He seemed kind enough, she knew trusting people was risky, but a coffee couldn’t hurt.
If your still reading this one, please review, thanks
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