Title: Emerald Green
Fandom: LOST/Prison Break
Pairing: Kate Austen/Lincoln Burrows
Rating: R for sex and language
Het/Slash/Both: Het

Warnings: Spoilers for PRISON BREAK & LOST S2

Timeline: Takes place during PRISON BREAK S2 and an AU version of LOST in which Kate never went to Australia and is still on the run

A/N: Done for Medie's Porn Battle (prompt: on the run), and will not be the only fic I write for this little foofooraw. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes and general suckiness are mine alone.

For rogueapprentice and her newfound Linc!Love, and lollobrigida for all the fandom crack and pointing me at this goddamn thing. WHEE!!!



It was Michael that recognized her in the cheap greasy spoon where they found just enough anonymity to eat on the road, pointing out the killer from Iowa to him in their corner booth. Michael knew her, but Lincoln was the one who paid her tab when she got caught trying to skip out on the bill.

Her eyes were hard, and they were green…emeralds, he remembered thinking as she grudgingly admitted her name was Kate after claiming her name was Marilyn. She knew them like they knew her, in all their infamy. There was actual fear in her eyes when she looked at Lincoln, the cold-blooded killer who’d blown up her stepfather…fear under the flint when she looked at the man who killed the president’s brother.

But the fear eased, and as they walked away into nothing, the conversation came…aimless talk of circumstance and sin. She believed him, that he’d been set up, and lauded Michael for his sacrifice. They understood her betrayal…the hardship of brutality, the stigma of the drunken father that they’d lived with for so long, regardless of what truth they now held. He saw her small smiles and somber frowns, watched those emeralds glow, flash, and dull with the tarnish of pain, the radiance of joy, and understood the unspoken certainty that she felt she would never be clean inside.

Together they hid in crowds and around corners both times cop cars passed, sharing glances that bound them in flight. The conversation finally turned to limited resources, and in mutual need, the three outlaws found enough trust to foster mutual concern for each other’s welfare.

For one night, they had safety in numbers, pooling together for a decent room. Kate protested the brothers sharing a bed so she could have one for herself, but Lincoln got his way in the end…and the argument was worth it for the lopsided grin and roll of her eyes, watching the emeralds sparkle and brighten with something softer than the pain…warmer than the sun.

Lincoln couldn’t stop himself from watching her slip into bed, stripped to panties and t-shirt with flawless, pale legs that he could almost feel wrapped around his waist…

Which was how he ended up sleeping on the floor, giving Michael the luxury of undisturbed sleep…or rather, Lincoln found himself laying awake, thinking about emeralds melting into pools of deep green light…hard and soft and warm, sad and joyous and impossibly cold and hard.

The whisper of fabric on skin caught his attention, filling ears always straining for the sound of sirens and shouts, uniformed buzzards circling to claim what little he had left to be stolen away, like his life and his dignity.

His head turned, and he saw bare, sinewy feet touch the floor, those pale legs coming towards him. They filled his vision as she knelt…slender calf, rounded knee, and perfect, full thigh. His gaze traveled up to the triangle of black sateen riding low on her hips, navel dipping into her belly slightly, almost shyly. Further up, over cotton-covered stomach and breasts, small but full…delicate collarbone that would fit so well against his lips, dark curls that were the same breadth and diameter as his fingers, he was certain…

And straight up into hard, broken emeralds that glowed with need.

Her fingertips were sweet against his lips, demanding silence and pleading for warmth, skin, a touch that gave and didn’t take…a night of wanting something simple and receiving it willingly.

Her solid, sinewy dancer’s body was soft against his as he gave in to her without words, let her give into his kiss and his touch. He demanded her passion and she gave it to him without a fight, arching into his touch as his hands cradled her breasts or slid over her ass to pull her against him. She rocked her hips against his, nibbled at his lips and tongue with every kiss, memorizing his taste as his hands memorized her body, his eyes filling themselves with emerald light.

“Tell me.” she whispered as he pulled her panties down her legs and cast them aside.

“I want you.” He rasped as her fingers slid inside his boxers, sliding over the length of him with slow, deliberate intent. He left his game face behind, let her see as he thrust into her hand…gratified when she gave him the same gift when he slid one finger inside her, then two, riding his hand with a whimper of need.

They held each other as he filled her, hands caressing and mouths tasting. They were lovers, they’d known each other forever, and they loved as they fucked in the dangerous silence. They shared their illusion together in muted gasps and silent cries as they came together, finding the release of outlaws as they played at being men and women. His fingers bruised her hips and thighs, her nails tore his skin…marks of passion, claims in blood they couldn’t keep.

She stayed the night, a warm blanket of sweet female skin and curves, hair like silk on his chest. She whispered words of gratitude and affection against his neck, the only truths she would give him. He murmured endearments and thanks…he told her that he loved her eyes.

She stayed the night with him, his lover…but at first light, Kate prepared to run.

Lincoln handed Kate’s panties to her as she dressed. She let him watch her, blushing prettily under his admiring gaze. He tried to see fire reflected in emerald green, red flames with pale pink touching her skin and the dawn’s first light.

The only goodbye was the sound of the door shutting behind her.

When he woke a few hours later, Michael didn’t ask where Kate had gone, or about the marks on Lincoln’s shoulders when he changed his shirt later on…only thanked her silently for the smile on his brother’s face when they took to the road once again.