❝ Fire on fire, we're normally killers
With this much desire, together, we're winners. ❞
Marie Reynolds works as a doctor in Fox River Penitentiary, a male prison. After the tragic death of her uncle, Terrence Steadman, she grows to despise...
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"I'm so sorry, Lincoln. . . I tried, I really did. I gave my best, and it still wasn't enough." a tear slid down Marie's cheek as she stared at the man in front of her. "Now you're going to die and it's all my fault. . ." she choked out, her hands grabbing the fence that separated them. Marie felt her knees buckling beneath her as she tried to stand still, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She let out a breath of air as her knees collided with the ground.
She thought that she could save him, but she was only fooling herself. She was fooling herself and everyone around her. Marie was completely desperate.
"Stand up, Doc." Lincoln kneeled from the other side of the fence, motioning for the woman to stand up but she just. Couldn't. Do it.
"It's all my fault. You're going to die and it's all my fault." she repeated, over and over again, the tears gushing out of her eyes like a waterfall as she choked out a sob. "I thought that I could save you. . . And now it's all for nothing."
"Marie." Lincoln whispered, "Stand up."
"I can't." Marie cried, gripping the fence so hard her knuckles turned white. "I just can't." then her hands dropped to the ground, into the dirt.
"Marie, look at me." Lincoln said, yet again. And she did. She looked at his eyes and just noticed that they were green. A nice shade of green. She couldn't imagine those eyes without their glow, she couldn't even think about them as lifeless and dull, they were just so amazingly pretty, yet so ordinary and basic. They felt warm, like they didn't belong to a murderer. And Lincoln Burrows may be a lot of things, but he is not a cold-blooded murderer.
"Give me your hand." he said, placing his hand against the fence. Marie looked at his hand for a few seconds before placing hers on the other side. Her gentle, dirt stained fingers grazed his rough ones. "It's not your fault." he assured her, a sad smile etched on his face. Then his face glitched. Marie frowned, looking at his features distort before he completely dissappeared.
"Lincoln?" Marie stood up, noticing that she wasn't in Fox river, she was in front of Paul's house. The house he brought her to when he shot her in the back. She turned around herself, confused as to how she got there.
"Alright, we ready?" a voice said, and Marie snapped her head towards it. From the other side of the small river, she saw Pope. Henry Pope, the warden. Beside him, was a chair. A chair that Marie knew oh too well. And in it was a person she was most afraid of, yet secretly attached to.
"Lincoln!?" she screamed out, but nobody seemed to hear. "Henry, no! Don't!" she tried to run towards them, but it seemed like she was just running in one place. "Please!"
"Light him up." Pope said, and the only thing that Marie could hear before everything went black were Lincoln's agonizing screams.
