Archive of Our Own

April 10

It was odd to see her in person. He’d studied her picture many times, cataloguing her beauty and ideals away into his plan, but the real thing surprised him more than he felt she should have. She was alive and more than just a picture he held in his head.

She worked over his arm with brisk efficiency, speaking in a professional tone.

“Tattoo looks fresh.” She took her hands from his arm. “Hold that. I guess being a diabetic you don’t mind needles.”

“I’m Michael, by the way.” It was easy to smile at her. This room wasn’t like the rest of the prison. She wasn’t anything like the other residents.

“Scofield. I read your report,” she replied, not even looking up.

“And you are?” he asked, knowing he needed to get on her good side quickly.

“Dr.Tancredi will do.”

He used his prior knowledge even as he smiled at her insistence on formalities.

“Tancredi like the governor? You’re not related, are you?” Her slight grimace would have answered his question even if he didn’t already know the answer. “Hmm, wouldn’t expect to find the daughter of Frontier Justice Frank working in a prison. As a doctor no less.”

“I believe in being a part of the solution, not the problem.”

She’d given him the perfect opening.

“Be the change that you want to see in the world.” He loved her reaction. “What?”

“Nothing. That was just my senior quote,” she admitted.

Time to put on the charm.

“That was you?” he said. “This whole time I was thinking it was Ghandi.”

Her laugh was worth it.

“You’re very funny. Sit tight. Put direct pressure on that. I’ll be back in a second.”

He watched her leave with a strangely pleasant feeling inside. Prison should be all red hair and needles. It would make it infinitely more bearable.

When she came back he tried to build on the connection he felt hovering between them.

“So how do we play this? You hook me up with a three week supply?”

“Nice try. No hypos on the floor,” she said.

“I’m the furthest thing from a junkie, trust me.” She didn’t even flinch when he used the word.

“I got news for you, Michael; trust means absolutely nothing inside these walls.” There was a hard tone to her voice that he didn’t like as well. “The only way you’ll be getting that insulin is if I’m the one administering it.”

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then,” he said, focusing on the bright side, for him anyway.

“I guess so.”

She didn’t seem to mind or was that his imagination? Still, he had the feeling these visits would be the highlight of his stay in Fox River.

April 11

“You went to Loyola.”

She looked a bit shocked when she said it. It made sense; after all, she had to know there was something different about him. He wouldn’t fit with anyone’s idea of inmate likelihood. Even he didn’t see it in himself.

“You’ve been checking up on me,” he said. It made him feel pleasantly surprised.

“I like to get to know my patients. I went to North Western. Graduated a year after you did.”

Of course he already knew that, but it’s one thing to know something and another to have somebody tell it to you themselves.

“Maybe we met before. You know, drunk, out at a bar somewhere.” Since he didn’t tend to get drunk at bars he doubted it.

“I would have remembered,” she said brightly.

A faint flush went through him at her words.

“Is that a compliment?” he teased.

“No. Hmm.”

She was good at multi-tasking, he could see that. She could study charts and refuse inmate charm at the same time. Likely something she’d had to become accustomed to since starting work at Fox River. He hoped it was harder than usual today.

“What?” He didn’t even have time to feel disappointed when she frowned at his results.

“Your blood glucose is at fifty milligrams per deciliter. That’s hypoglycemic. Your body’s reacting to the insulin as though you’re not a diabetic. Are you sure it’s Type 1 Diabetes you got?”

“Ever since I was a kid.” He’d known this was coming. That Pugnac needed to get to him soon.

“All right. Not experiencing any tingling sensations, cold sweats?” He shook his head, the lie coming easily as it often did these days.

“I’d like to run some tests the next time you’re in. The last thing I want is to be doing is administering insulin to a man who doesn’t need it.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said as casually as he could.

“Okay.”

His second trip to the infirmary had not been as pleasurable as his first, but there were still many days to come before they would be forced to end, providing he didn’t get forcibly ejected because he didn’t really have diabetes.

April 12

“How are you this morning, Doc?” he asked.

“I’m a little behind. And apologetic actually.” She hurried into the infirmary tossing his file on the table.

“What for?” he asked.

He looked pleased to see her and she felt flushed, but decided to chalk it up to her frantic morning.

“I just had a look at our supplies and we are all out of kits for your test. I could just do it manually but it would take long enough to be arriving just when the next supply got here.” She glanced over to see how he would take it and frowned. He looked like he’d never heard such good news.

“No worries here. Take your time,” he said easily.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said uneasily. “I’ll keep giving you your shots, but I’m gonna need you to monitor yourself closely. If you feel anything out of the ordinary, no matter how small, let me know immediately. I’ll keep a watch on your glucose levels. We’ve got to be sure here.”

“Definitely,” he said, the perfect picture of compliance.

She returned with his needle and deftly swabbed his arm.

“Don’t you take breaks?” he asked quietly while she administered his shot.

“Not as often as I’m required to by law,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“Thanks.”

She smiled. It wasn’t often a con could give her rational conversation instead of trying to impress her with his bravado or terrify her with his rap sheet.

“Well, it’s not like I’m on good terms with the law at the moment.” He gave her another smile and she returned it. His smile made him seem even more out of place in his prison blues. It also did strange things to her insides. She hastily finished his shot and busied herself with clean up. She could almost feel his eyes on her and it was suddenly unsettling. “Can I go now?”

“Sure, you’re all good,” she said briskly.

There was a warning bell going off in her head and she figured the only way to keep it from coming true was by ignoring it.

April 13

He was waiting for her again today, having had plenty of time to do what he needed to do before she got there.

“There’s no news of the shipment just yet, Michael. I’m sorry to keep you on pins and needles like this. No pun intended.”

He smiled from his position by the window. He admired her attempts to put her patients at ease. Even if those patients were convicted criminals.

“Do I seem that disturbed?” He moved to sit in the chair.

“No, but I’d hate for the efficient reputation of Fox River to suffer a blow on my watch.”

“Like I said, take your time,” Michael said.

It was taking longer than calculated to get his Pugnac. He’d known he couldn’t plan everything from the outside, but he was starting to wonder how much he would have to blindly figure out on the spot.

“Well, if I were you I’d be anxious to find out if I was getting those needles for nothing.” She pulled out the needle and frowned, writing something down on her sheet.

He followed her line of sight and saw his hand was slightly shaking. That couldn’t be a good thing.

“Why would I want to be out in the yard with the cons when I could be in here with you?” he asked quickly for distraction.

She bowed her head and concentrated on preparing his shot, but he saw the slight blush.

“The me that comes with needles?”

“Especially the needles,” he teased.

“Oh, and why’s that?” She looked as if she didn’t know why she was encouraging this particular train of conversation.

“Isn’t it every man’s fantasy playing doctor with a beautiful woman?” He wondered if that may have been too much. His flirting skills had grown somewhat rusty in his obsessive research over the past few months.

She coughed slightly and he could see she was trying not to laugh. It impressed him, even as his ego deflated slightly.

“Michael, anyone would think you’d been locked away for ten years using a line like that.”

“What can I say, Doc? You turn a man’s head.”

“Well, now I’m gonna turn your arm, so just put pressure there for me.” She kept smiling until they finished the appointment and he left, slightly less cocky than when he’d come in, but he heard her laugh more fully as he left.

It made him feel good. She had to get a lot of bad pickup lines, probably too obscene to repeat. Hopefully it was refreshing to get something so corny.

April 14

He seemed very quiet today. She wondered about how he was doing fitting into the prison. Someone with his background and personality would seem like an easy target for a lot of the cons. It wasn’t something she supposed she should be thinking about, but his looks probably didn’t help either; that and the growing racial tension she could see in all the inmates.

“You doing okay today, Michael?” she asked, trying to feel him out.

He stirred himself, as if sensing her unease. It was like he had a part to play and no matter how he felt, he had to play it. That made her feel somewhat disappointed, because if it was an act, it hadn’t seemed like it needed much effort before.

“Fine,” he said, a sad imitation of a smile on his face.

“You just seem a little out of sorts. I was looking forward to another bad line today.” That made him smile fully and she ignored the flutter from her insides.

“Why, Doctor, you flatter me. Touching concern and a liking for my verbal wit. You really do give the full treatment.” He grimaced slightly, apparently not satisfied with his choice of words.

“See, there’s my line.” She smiled and concentrated on his shot. “Put pressure there.”

He complied silently as if not wanting to risk anything his brain might decide should come out of his mouth.

“Thanks, Doc.”

“No problem. I also have good news for you. The kits should be here by tomorrow so we’ll be able to get you tested.” Was it her imagination or did he look distressed?

“That’s good,” he muttered, pushing himself off the table, looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders with tasks mounting higher and higher.

She watched him go as a frown line started to develop on her forehead. He worried her more than any inmate she’d ever met.

April 15

“How long does it take?” He tapped his fingers on the chair in a nervous rhythm.

“It used to take hours,” she replied, “but we’ve come a long way with the new glucose kits. This’ll take us ten seconds. Slide this strip into the meter then we’re good to go. I’m sure you know this, but the average glucose for a non- diabetic is about one hundred milligrams per deciliter. We see a number like that here and we’ll know you’ve been misdiagnosed.” She glanced up from the kit and observed him closely. “You seem nervous.”

“I do?” He straightened up, seemingly in an attempt to placate her suspicion.

It wasn’t working.

“You’re sweating,” she observed.

“Must be the needles. I never really got used to them,” he said.

The lie didn’t sound realistic, probably not even to him. Yet he didn’t seem like he would be a liar and it bothered her that she would think that about a convict.

“Somehow, with diabetes and that tattoo, I find that hard to believe.” She didn’t know why, but she didn’t like that he wasn’t being upfront with her. “Ah, bad news, I’m afraid. One hundred and eighty milligrams per deciliter. You are definitely a diabetic.”

His entire face lit up with relief.

“Do you need anything else from me?”

“Just an arm to stick a needle in,” she said, very confused.

“Okay,” he agreed happily.

She looked quizzically at him and he hastily left, casting a look at the grate in the corner.

“See you,” she called after him. She sat there trying to puzzle out his reaction.

Katie entered the room as he left.

“Cute.”

“Prisoner,” Sara tossed the automatic response back. “I don’t know. There’s something strange about him.”

“What do you mean?” Katie asked.

“I gave him the results of his blood test and there was this look on his face. It was, um…relief.”

She knew it was going to bug her, but she doubted she’d ever get an answer.

April 15

While she had enjoyed getting to know him the past couple of days, this was not how she had wanted to continue the relationship. She rushed into the room firing questions at the guard and ordering them out. She leaned over to inspect his foot, murmuring soothing words.

“Okay, let’s take a look.” He reached down to grasp her arm as if unable to bear anymore pain. The pitiful gesture broke her heart and she continued to try and comfort. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” The sight took her breath away. She was used to blood, but the mutilation made her feel sick. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He gasped out the word, and she wondered at his own ability to keep silent and not scream out the names in retribution for the hell his foot was in.

“This isn’t nothing, Michael. I need you to tell me what happened.”

She’d never felt so abhorrent of the inmate’s code of silence, but his next words warmed her even in the midst of her frantic movements over his foot.

“Don’t make me lie to you. Please.”

The pain had to be making him feel unguarded and it was only after he said it that she realized both of them believed it. He really didn’t want to lie to her.

April 16

It still took all of her will power not to scold or chasten him for his decision to keep silent.

“No redness or swelling, so there’s no sign of infection. We’ll keep you on antibiotics for the next ten days.” She walked over to lean against the table. She had to try again. “Michael, you understand by law, I’m obligated to file a report if I feel like there’s been prisoner misconduct. There’s no way this injury happened by stepping on a blade in the gardening shed.”

He picked up his shoe and sock and began to replace them.

“If you file that report, things could get a lot worse for me.”

He was already back to his confident, reserved nature. His face revealed nothing and she couldn’t help but feel the difference from the vulnerability of his earlier pain.

“They’re not already?” she asked.

“Not compared to what they could be. I’ve made some enemies,” he said more lightly than the words deserved.

“Yeah… You scared?” She wanted to roll her eyes at his face. “Men.”
At least he could smile, but it wasn’t funny. Nothing about the situation was. “Okay, here’s what I think. I think you are scared and you wouldn’t be human if you weren’t scared in a place like this.”

He looked past her, as if trying to find a way to answer her dedication to justice and sheer tenacity. He spoke like someone who had a reason behind everything they did and was trying their best to explain that reason without actually sharing anything important. It was frustrating and heartening at the same time.

“When I was young, I couldn’t sleep at night because I thought there was a monster in the closet. But my brother told me there wasn’t anything in the closet but fear. And fear wasn’t real. He said it wasn’t made of anything just…air. Not even that. He said you just have to face it. You just have to open that closet and the monster would disappear.”

“Your brother sounds like a smart man.”

His eyes pierced hers for a split second.

“He is. In here though, you face your fear, you open that door and there’s a hundred more doors behind it. And the monsters that are hiding behind them are all real.”

His words defeated her and she could only make a pitiful attempt at help.

“If you want I could recommend that you be sent to Ad Seg.” She already knew his answer.

“With the rape victims and the snitches,” he said scornfully, swinging himself around.

“It would keep you safe.”

He stood up and she could see him mentally and physically preparing himself. That was twice he’d broken her heart now.

“Thanks, but I think I’d like to face the monsters on my own.”

It seemed wrong how much she admired him for the foolish decision.

April 17

She kept him waiting a long time. She was incredibly busy, but she also had not had much sleep the night before. Whenever that happened she was less able to keep her emotional guard up. It was her only weapon in this place and it was important to her. Plus, he seemed to manage to penetrate it even when it was on full power. What’d he do when it required more energy, she had no idea. But the man needed insulin and he needed a fresh bandage on his toes, so she went in to face him.

“How are you feeling today, Michael?” It was amazing how such a simple question could be so loaded.

“I feel a bit better. Thanks to your care.” He said the words quietly.

“I’m only doing my job,” she said slightly more curtly than she would have if she weren’t feeling so defensive.

“I know. But you care about your patients, I can tell. All of them. It’s not something you’d expect inside these walls.”

So, he wanted to be serious today. That was just as much a danger as flirtation.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” she said quietly and proceeded to undergo their normal routine. She’d liked their routine, but it had a hideous new addition. She carefully unwrapped the bandages on his foot and tsked at the sight. “It’s a good thing we got to these in time. I’m going to wrap them and give you some painkillers.”

“You’re a great giver, Doc,” he said playfully, as if trying to lighten the seriousness that he sensed in her.

No doubt he didn’t want her to have to focus on his feet.

“That’s me,” she played along. Maybe if she played she wouldn’t feel unguarded. “Lift up your shirt for me. I’m just going to check your vitals to make sure your system is doing okay after the shock it just got.”

There was something in his eye, but she ignored it, turning away to get her stethoscope. She realized when she turned around that asking him to lift his shirt had been a bad idea. Even if she wasn’t attracted to him the tattoos were enough to make anyone sit and stare for hours.

He slowly lifted up his shirt as he waited for her, shifting uncomfortably. She had already guessed how much he didn’t like people looking at the tattoos. That much attention probably made him feel vulnerable and exposed. Another reason to wonder why he had gotten them at all.

“You okay there, Doc?” he asked mischievously.

She blinked and laid her stethoscope on his chest, aware that she had been staring at his chest and he’d known it.

“Don’t go getting ideas,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “Those tattoos are intriguing.”

“So people seem to think.” His tone was non-committal and she got the feeling he didn’t want to talk about them.

“You’re all set,” she said and was relieved when his shirt was once again firmly encircling his waist.

“I’ll see you,” he said.

He left and she stood there wondering how she could run through so many emotions in one fifteen minute visit with a man she didn’t know and was not allowed to under law.

April 18

Michael felt good today. Haywire was gone and his plan could unfold, including his chemical plans. A visit to the infirmary was just what he wanted.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Scofield,” Sara said formally.

“Hello.”

“How are you feeling today?” she asked.

“Well, good.”

She caught sight of his eye and it looked like she had to force herself to ask the question casually.

“What happened?”

“Uh, caught an elbow playing basketball,” he said easily.

She looked angry, but she kept her tone professional.

“Uh huh. Mind if I take a look?”

“By all means,” he said, shifting to give her access.

“You know, you’re going to get killed in here, right? If you’re not careful?” she asked, bending over him.

He found himself touched by her concern, but he felt too good today to be serious. She looked too good to focus on such small matters as his time in prison.

“I’ll make you a bet. I’ll bet you that when I get out of here, alive, I’ll take you to dinner…lunch…cup of coffee.”

“Michael, this…this charm act could be exactly what is getting you into trouble out in the yard.” He was properly chastened and she didn’t say anymore. “Lean forward.”

Michael complied, feeling slightly foolish. He supposed it was arrogant of him to think he could sugarcoat everything and have her swallow it. He’d seen too much of her to think so little of her.

---

The rest of the visit was conducted in silence. Long after he left, she sat there and wondered why he would make up such a story to her when everyone knew that Haywire had attacked him. Hadn’t Michael himself reported it to the guard? Why wouldn’t he want her to know such a thing?

Any other day his offer would have made her smile, made her feel uneasy, made her want to accept, made her question her self control. But not today. Today she was angry at how trivially he appeared to hold the value of his own life and confused about why he was determined to keep her out of it.

April 19

“So you heard,” he said as he walked into the infirmary.

She looked up from where she’d been staring blankly at her desk.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“Oh, you must have heard about my transfer. You look so gloomy.”

She had in fact heard about it. It had made her gloomy, but she resented his presumption of the fact even if he was just trying to be funny.

“Michael, prisoners get transferred all the time. The only reason I would feel glum is because you won’t get such good medical care now.”

“Not if you’re not giving it,” he agreed, sitting down in his usual place.

“Now you won’t be able to keep making up excuses to see me,” she teased, pulling on her gloves.

He took off his shoe and sock and wiggled his existing toes at her.

“Did you ever hear of an inmate who would cut off his toes to be able to see you twice in one day, Doc? That’s gotta be true love.”

“A little masochistic for my taste,” she countered and bent to unwrap the bandage.

He smiled slightly and then hesitated.

“I am…working on not being transferred.”

“Is that so?” she said, glad her face was hidden, though her hands had a slight twitch in them as they examined his foot.

“Yeah, I have…needs and wants that can only be met in this particular prison,” he replied.

She was really glad he couldn’t see her face.

“Well,” she said, straightening up. “I hope for your sake that you’re able to work it. I’m going to go get your shot.”

“I’ll be right here.”

She cast a quick glance at him over her shoulder. Their eyes connected briefly before the door closed behind her.

The shot was administered expeditiously and Michael was soon on his way out the door.

“I hope I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly.

“I-I hope so, too,” she said as casually as possible.

April 20

“You managed it after all,” she said as he walked into the infirmary. She didn’t say how relieved she’d felt when she saw Pope stop the transfer at the gate, but it was all she could think about.

“Not really my doing,” he said as he sat down. “All the Pope.”

She could see the immense relief on his face.

“Hang on a sec while I get your shot,” she said, glad for the excuse to think about his feelings.

She thought she knew why the relief was so vivid. It was silly how she felt slightly put off that she wasn’t part of the reason, but now she knew that Lincoln Burrows was his brother. The fact still surprised her. They didn’t seem to have anything in common. It made her itch to find out more, but she didn’t want to talk about it with Michael just yet. She shouldn’t even want to talk about it at all.

***

“You’re a little jumpy today,” he observed, still high on the fact that he was here to see her at all. “That glad to have me here?”

“I’m always pleased to be able to treat my patients,” she said primly.

He chuckled slightly.

“Watch it, Doc. I might believe you.” She rolled her chair back to grab his file on her desk and he watched her hair as, through the motion, it tried to work its way free of her barrette. It was distractingly beautiful and he had to force his eyes to return to her face. “I like your clip,” he said casually.

She looked up in surprise.

“Uh, thank you. A present.”

“Nice taste,” he said, trying not to think about whom it might have been a present from.

He liked to know these kinds of things about people. He especially liked to know them about her and it was becoming increasingly difficult to think that it was for platonic reasons. Or that the only reason he was glad to be staying here was for the plan and his brother.

April 21

“Morning, Michael.”

Their time together was routine, they could do it in their sleep. It left plenty of time for other thoughts, other occupations, during the short time he spent with her each day.

“Eyebrow, toe, then shot?” he asked casually.

“Let’s mix it up a bit. Let’s be wild and do the eyebrow last.”

She reached for the bandages on his toe and suppressed a smile. There were disturbing things about this man and there were questions that plagued her; but that didn’t change the fact that the time he spent in the infirmary was the brightest of her day.

“Am I gonna have to report you for having too much fun on the job?” he said jovially.

“Contusions aren’t exactly my idea of fun. Though, apparently, they’re yours,” she said pointedly.

“It was an accident,” he said quickly. A little too quickly.

“Maybe,” she said and continued on with her work. “But if Haywire were my cellie maybe I would be afraid he’d do something like that to me. Even be afraid enough to break the code and actually report it.”

He didn’t say anything. She wasn’t surprised, but she wanted to present the last part of her suspicions. She started to rewrap his foot.

“A bit rough there, Doc,” he said softly.

She wondered if he was speaking just about his foot. She was digging too deeply and he obviously didn’t want to continue the conversation.

“Sorry. Anyway, I wouldn’t even be surprised if I inflicted such a wound on myself to get out of the situation without asking for favors or hurting anyone.”

“Do you think it might rain later?” he asked pointedly.

She shook her head ruefully.

“Fine. I won’t say anything more. But, Michael, I want to help you.”

He looked at her carefully. She met his gaze squarely, trying to convey her sincerity.

“I know,” he said solemnly. “I wish I…I wish you could.”

“You’re an interesting man,” she said, sighing.

“You’ve no idea,” he said, his tone lightening.

She felt a slight thrill inside.

“No, not likely to either,” she said firmly to cover it.

She quickly administered his shot and took the bandage off his eyebrow. She’d accomplished one thing today and that was a confirmation of her suspicions about Haywire. His refusal to speak said it all. But there were more questions and they would have to be saved for another time. If they should be asked at all.

“Sa-Doctor, be sure to wear a raincoat tomorrow. Just in case,” he said as he exited, casting a smile over his shoulder.

She couldn’t stop her own from forming.

April 22

“You know, you said it was going to rain, and there I was, with a raincoat and no rain,” Sara said as Michael walked in to the infirmary.

“I only asked if you thought it might rain,” he returned. “It’s a little too hot for it to be raining.”

She didn’t want to think about why he’d said it in the first place so she just resumed her doctor role and cared for her patient. There had been something else bothering her for a few days now, the question of his brother. She knew it shouldn’t matter, but she wondered why he hadn’t told her about his connection to Lincoln. After talking to Lincoln, she felt even more sympathy for the brothers than she knew she should have for any inmate.

“I’ll just listen to the weather man from now on,” she replied.

“So tell me about Northwest,” he said, after frowning slightly.

She wondered how much he could tell about what she was thinking. His gazes always made her feel transparent. She resented it because it certainly wasn’t like he told her everything.

“Uh, not much to tell. I was pretty busy studying most of the time I was there. How about you?” she said, happy to change the subject.

“I was, coincidentally, also studying. There was this…blonde who always sat on the bench outside a class freshman year. She’d stare into the sky with the strangest look on her face. She’d draw sometimes. She fascinated me so I’d leave notes and puzzles for her on the bench. She’d figure them out eventually, well, mostly.” Michael stopped talking and looked at Sara sheepishly. “I guess I didn’t have a lot to do back then.”

She was amazed at the degree of jealousy that coursed through her.

“Yeah, sounds like a real bore,” she said as she swabbed his skin, without really paying attention to what she was doing. “I only left puzzles for other redheads, so you can see how my time was much more interesting.”

“Redheads do have a certain…bewitching quality to them,” he said slowly and she felt his gaze resting on her hair.

“Oh, we do. There are a few things you’d be surprised we redheads are best at or get to achieve given our genetics.”

“Really. Do tell.”

“I shouldn’t give away the secrets. I’ll just let you…ponder on it.” She felt a slight shiver go through his skin and wondered if she’d really meant to draw those words out the way she had. She was dangerously close to inappropriate conversation with an inmate. “Now you better go before I give away all my trade secrets.”

She stood in the center of the room, trying to clear her head and reminded herself that she’d been meaning to ask him about his brother and instead…she didn’t even know what had just happened.

***

“Maybe you’ll tell me one tomorrow,” he said hopefully as he got up to go.

If not she’d better talk about something like cotton balls or a new way of sterilization because she would make him go crazy otherwise. The way she had been talking intrigued him and his brain started to work faster than normal, if that was possible. It was incredibly unfair for her to look the way she did anyway. Prison doctors should be required to be at retirement age and more than usually ugly for their age.

“Maybe. All under doctor/patient privilege of course.”

“Of course,” he almost whispered and left with an intent look in her direction.

He frowned slightly. Apart from the rather tantalizing things she was saying, she had clearly had something else on her mind. She was internalizing something. Not that he had any right to know about it. It wasn’t like he told her everything. Still, he suddenly ached to know everything she thought about.

April 23

She walked up to the fence where he was standing just on the other side. She looked determined and he gathered now was the time that she was going to choose to say whatever it was she had been thinking about before.

“Hottest April on record,” she said.

“Global warming,” was his explanation. He was just glad to see her. She looked amazing in blue.

“Probably. You got a minute?” she asked.

“About five years’ worth.” He was determined to be casual.

After all, they weren’t in their proper roles or their proper location. It could be a dangerous conversation and she appeared flustered.

“Sorry. Right. Um, you never told me Lincoln Burrows was your brother.”

He felt a wall close over his face. He hated it, but it was necessary.

“Never came up,” he said flatly.

“Right,” Sara said. “And I'm curious if that isn’t because of my father, the governor? He may not be the one pulling the switch, but we both know he has the power to grant clemency and he won’t. And he never does.”

He gave her the truth, even if it was a different truth than that which he could have said. It still felt good to tell her something real.

“My old man was an abusive drunk who abandoned his family. I don’t judge anyone by their father’s actions, or inactions, if that was your concern.”

Something in her face relaxed and he could tell that it had really been bothering her. She smiled more genuinely.

“Just so you know, I don’t agree with his politics and I'm sorry about your brother.”

“I appreciate that.” He wished he could truly express his thanks.

She turned to leave; he knew she didn’t have any other reason to stay. But she turned back around again suddenly and spoke rapidly.

“Hey, this isn’t much, um…I have to give Lincoln a weekly check-up now. If you want I could schedule those visits to end right before you come in for your shots. That way you could at least see each other, even if it was just in passing.”

Several feelings of gratitude, desire, and helplessness washed over him at her offer, but all he could say was,

“Thank you.” He watched her walk away. “That is a good woman,” he said quietly to himself before going to finish the work he’d started.

***

“Feels cool in here,” he commented, hopping up on the table.

“I guess it would make you more chipper to be in here where at least there’s some air flow,” she commented wryly.

He shifted on the table, feeling more like a little boy than a man who a rap sheet.

“Inmates are pretty restless,” he said. “It’s nice to be out of there.”

“I’m sorry you only get fifteen minutes before you have to go back,” she said.

“You act real clumsy you can make it twenty,” he teased.

He resisted the urge to wink at her. His success with the air conditioning acted like an intoxicant on him. It made him wish that for just an hour, the two of them could be away from the prison, no pasts, no stigmas, on their own.

“Well, the heat does make me feel a touch sluggish,” she said casually, then winked at him.

He grinned at the way their thoughts seemed to meld.

“Slowest Doc, any prison, anywhere,” he said.

“I’ll try and take that as a compliment.”

She appeared to be doing her best to work slowly. For his sake or hers, he wondered.

“It’s a great day to go swimming. What you do you say we cut out of here?” he asked, grinning.

She laughed out loud.

“Am I supposed to smuggle you out under my coat?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t advise the coat, it’s a little hot. Might look suspicious.”

“Oh, really? What do you suggest then?” she asked.

“I’ll have to think on it.” Their conversation coming so close to the area of escape made him a little uncomfortable, but it was going well and he ignored the discomfort. “I’m sure we could work something out.”

The phone rang and she had him hold his bandage in place.

“You work on it while I get this, huh?” she asked.

She left and he awkwardly hopped to the grate and worked his chemist magic on the drain.

“Was that an escape artist offering his help?” he asked when she came back.

She gave him a small smile and hurriedly checked his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Michael. Looks like the whistle’s been blown. There’s an inmate suffering from heat exhaustion and I have to go over to B-wing.”

“We can wait,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Despite her sudden hurry, she looked to be reflecting on his words.

“Goodbye, Michael.”

“Bye, Doc.”

He wasn’t nearly as euphoric as he had been when he came in, but they had spent the entire time in conversation without any awkward questions and he counted it a personal breakthrough.

April 23 cont.

His brain was on one track: save her. Nothing else mattered. Even the thought of T-Bag staring into the gaping hole in the wall of his cell didn’t factor in. In fact, until the moment of saving he forgot that the way he saw himself and the way she saw him was different. He acted on instinct, using the words he thought would reach her.

“Come on. Grab my hand. Come on. I’ve got you. Are you all right?” He couldn’t blame her for flinching. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. See these pipes? We’re going to stay on them. They go through the wall and over the hallway and they’re going to get us out of here. All you have to do is follow me. Okay?”

She was shaking so much it was like she couldn’t concentrate on his words. Hopefully deep down she knew he was the man she met with every day and he wasn’t like the other cons.

“Yeah,” she finally said.

“Okay. Let’s go.” They crawled along and his brain started to retire from survival mode and wonder how he was going to explain his presence to her. His number one thought was still her safety, but reality had started to set in. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okay...I’m fine.” He knew it was a lie, as if she didn’t want to appear weak, but she couldn’t keep it up forever, and she appeared to realize that as much as he did. “You know what, I need a minute. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not much further.”

He didn’t want to make her feel worse, but there wasn’t a lot of time.

“Just a sec,” she said.

“You know, we can stop if you want. Catch our breath.” He’d always been good at calming LJ down in moments of crisis when he was young. Maybe he could use the same tactics here.

“Okay. Yeah, I could use a minute.”

They settled against the wall and he tried to reassure her as best he could. It helped him to hear it, too.

“Things should be winding down around now. Pretty soon, the powers that be will break in and it will all be over. It’s just a matter of time.”

***

“What’s happening in A-Wing?” she asked, trying to calm herself.

She could tell he was as nervous as she was. She appreciated the fact that he wasn’t lying to her.

“All hell is breaking loose. But I think if we stay up here, we should be okay,” Michael said confidently.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” She needed to close her eyes and pretend she was anywhere but here.

“You ever been to Baja? Mexico?” He started to talk randomly, distracting her, she knew. “There’s this great place down there. Twenty bucks a night. Hammock on the back deck. Beers are fifty cents. Twenty five cents at happy hour.” She could almost imagine herself there with him, but it wasn’t enough. “You ever been to Thailand? Thailand’s great…”

“Michael, if you’re trying to calm me down, you’re doing a terrible job.”

She had to laugh. He was actually doing better than she would’ve thought possible. She would rather be anywhere but here, but the thought of the two of them in Mexico was intoxicating.

“But I am trying,” he pointed out.

Her smile faded and she couldn’t help but wonder how they had ended up in this position. Why was he here?

“Why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

His guard was instantly up and she frowned.

“Crawling around in the ceiling, risking your life.”

“You needed help, and I, uh, I came to find you,” Michael said.

She felt the truth of his words instinctively.

“How’d you know where to go?” She felt the full importance of his words. She knew he’d just admitted to something deeper than a casual flirtation with one of the only women he’d see for the next five years.

“When everything went off in A-Wing, the COs left the station and I saw you on the monitor. One of my first assignments on PI, we were up here cleaning out toxic mold. It took days, so I’m kind of familiar with the layout.”

It sounded plausible enough. It wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on and she was getting antsy, sitting here, when who knows what was happening below them.

“Hope you wore a mask,” she said absently as she prepared to go again.

“Excuse me,” he said.

“To prevent inhalation. Mold can be really dangerous.”

He paused for a moment.

“Yeah, I wore a mask.”

***

Her words from before about a mask pounded through his head. It was an odd thing for her say and he wondered if she actually believed him. He suddenly realized he had put the entire escape into her hands when he chose to come after her.

They ran through the hallway and his mind shoved aside the memory of her waist beneath his fingers and her eyes piercing his and searched through the invisible blueprints in his head, not daring to corroborate them on his tattoo.

“We can’t go this way,” he said, frantically looking around.

“We have to. There’s no other way to Visitation. This is it,” Sara said.

“No, it’s not. It’s back this way.” He desperately pointed, wanting her to trust him without any questions he couldn’t answer.

“This won’t help,” she insisted.

“Trust me,” he said, willing her to believe him.

His desperation to successfully save her suddenly heightened. He realized something in that moment that made it incredibly hard to continue this charade. He couldn’t lose her. If he knew she was safe it would rest like a blanket over him. Only then could he deal with his other problems.

***

“Michael, if you’re wrong…” She believed him. She didn’t know why, but she did.

“We don’t have time,” he said, turning.

She ran after him, knowing her life was still in his hands.

He came to a juncture and turned.

“That’s it.” She sighed in relief at the door. She started to run toward it when a thought pounded into her brain. She was out of danger but he… “Wait, I can’t leave you here.”

“You don’t have a choice. I’m one of the bad guys, remember?” He smiled at the irony.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Go back to my cell, stay out of the way,” he assured her.

A red dot hovered on his chest and her eyes widened in horror.

“Michael…” she whispered.

“What?”

“They see us,” she said.

He looked down and she could see the wheels desperately turning.

“You have to go,” he said.

He was being self sacrificing, but she wasn’t going to let him.

“I can’t... they’ll kill you.”

“Go out the door. I’ll drop to the floor,” he said.

“They’re sharp shooters, Michael. They won’t miss.”

Noises of the pursuing inmates came from behind them.

“That’s why you can’t stay here. Go.” He pushed her out the door and dropped to the floor.

She ran and then anxiously peered through the door, trying to ascertain his safety. She then hurried toward the tents set up on the lawn, wanting to be the first to examine the list of the dead and injured. Her brain was reeling with what had just happened and the memory of the look on his face and the feeling she’d had when she looked up and saw his face and outstretched hand.

April 24

They sat silently for a while, the weight of the events of the previous day making talk unnecessary. There was an unmentionable bond between them now and she knew both of them felt it.

“After what you went through in the riot, I thought you might take a day off.”

He looked glad she hadn’t, relieved he could see for himself that she was okay.

“I'm fine. I, uh...I couldn't find anybody to cover for me anyway.”

Her attempt at a joke fell flat and she didn’t try to improve it. Her feelings for him had grown so strong through the riots, but the fact that he had lied to her was something she couldn’t ignore. She knew she should probably be talking to the Warden and trying to figure this man out, but his selfless actions stopped her.

“I hope you don't feel like you owe me anything,” Michael said slowly.

“I do. I'm, uh...I really appreciate what you did for me.”

Her voice was hard and she wasn’t surprised when he asked.

“But?”

“But you told me that you had been up in the crawlspace for PI, and PI was never assigned to go there.”

She wanted to find this out from him. She wanted assurance that she didn’t have to worry about trusting him.

“We're done here, right?”

His face was instantly closed, but something in his eyes made her think he hated doing it as much as she hated for him to do it.

“Michael, don't be like that. I just...I just want some answers.”

It was stupid to feel so crushed that he was shooting her down.

“Thanks for the shot, Doc.” He walked away.

She sat there hating the fact that she cared, hating the fact that she felt the need to dig. But dig she would, because he’d lied to her.

April 25

She felt like she had a secret, like she was the one lying to him. It was an interesting feeling because she technically wasn’t doing anything wrong. Yes, she knew he did not want her looking into his affairs, but if he was going to continue to penetrate into her life and make her feel like she needed him, then she was going to understand what she was getting into.

“Are you feeling all right today?” he asked feebly.

After walking out on her yesterday, she wasn’t surprised he was being cautious.

“Just fine. How about you? Any new injuries I need to look at?” she asked somewhat sarcastically.

“Nope. I’m flying under the radar as much as possible. I don’t…I don’t want to get into any situations I can’t handle.”

He was choosing his words carefully as he always did, but she smiled inwardly. She could tell he was trying to apologize for the day before.

“Michael, the day you won’t get into those kinds of situations is a day I don’t think I’ll ever see. All you’re doing is delaying.” She softened her harsh words with a smile and a teasing tone.

“Maybe I’ll delay a long time,” he said, lighting up at her teasing tone.

“I hope so. This infirmary isn’t built for the really big things, you know. You wouldn’t want to be shipped off out of my care now?”

“I only like red headed doctors,” he said.

“I was thinking of dying my hair,” she said thoughtfully, deliberately.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“What color?”

“Ooh,” she deliberated. “Bleach blonde.”

“I only like bleached blonde doctors,” he said promptly.

“Then it’s probably good that I’m not one,” she said. “You, sir, are free to go.”

“A full pardon, aren’t you generous!” he teased.

“I won’t even bother answering that,” she said, tilting her head toward the door.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, holding her gaze before leaving.

“Later, Michael.”

She shook her head and got ready to go for the day. She had an appointment with a psychiatrist.

April 26

She was going to walk on by. After all, wouldn’t she be seeing him later? It just seemed too perfect an opportunity to pass up. She swallowed hard and approached the fence.

“I, uh...I just wanted you to know that if you're looking for someone to talk to in here, you're not alone. It's part of my job to counsel inmates and help them with their problems.”

She could see his back stiffen and knew it was useless. She winced; couldn’t she have eased into it rather than just blurted it out?

“I got things pretty well figured out.”

He wouldn’t even turn to face her and his voice was expressionless.

“I sort of backed into some information about you. I hope you don't mind, but you have to understand that there's a reason I became a doctor. It's in my nature to want to help. From what I understand, it's in your nature, too.” If anything, she could practically see walls sliding up over walls. “You did a lot of good things before you were in here. A lot of community work, a lot of charity work. What happened?”

“The man you're talking about died the moment I stepped inside these walls.”

His voice was cold, quite unlike the usual way he addressed her. Usually there was a certain warmth when he spoke to her. Not today.

“All right.”

She walked away, berating herself for not handling it better and cursing whatever it was that kept him so close-mouthed.

***

He shuddered and tried to calm himself down. He would have to face her later. He loved her tenacity; he hated the way it made him have to treat her. Not that he particularly wanted to talk about his need to help people. That had been something between him and his therapist and he was well aware of the implications of his condition. It had already been a struggle in here more times than he could count. Too many times.

Suddenly, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to lay his head down on her shoulder and cry and tell her everything and beg for her to make it okay.

None of which would help his brother, so he resisted the urge to call out to her and focused his attention on his problems.

***

He wouldn’t talk to her, he couldn’t. He’d jeopardized way too much because of her.

He sat down and she silently worked, not pushing him. He was grateful and hated it at the same time.

His brother was worth it. That’s what he told himself when he walked out the door, having not said a single word the whole time.

April 27

“How’s the medical biz?” he asked, determinedly casual, as he walked in the door.

She had been intent on her paperwork and hadn’t seen him.

“Oh, Michael, you scared me.” She stood up, flustered. “We’re in booming business. Have a seat.”

She’d been nervous about seeing him today. She didn’t know if he would shut her out for good this time. Probably for the better, though definitely not what she wanted.

“Well, I’m glad to be contributing,” he said, his voice as warm as ever.

“The insulin would have been fine. No need for the physical mutilation,” she murmured absently, checking through his file. It really wasn’t necessary; she had it memorized by now.

To her surprise, he laughed. It edged on the hysterical and she was a tad concerned.

“Sorry,” he said, containing himself. “But that’s really very funny.”

“No, I don’t think it is,” she said, sticking in the needle, a tad irritated. “But I’m glad you can distract yourself. You probably hold things in too much.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “But sometimes it’s necessary.”

“Sometimes it’s dangerous,” she replied, standing up. She didn’t feel like playing his games today. She would feel more comfortable with this hot/cold act he pulled if she knew how it worked and what triggered it. “You’re set.”

“Have a good day, Doctor,” he said softly to her retreating back.

April 28

He wanted to tell her everything. He often thought about what it would be like had they simply met at college, drunk at a bar. Easier, safer, faster.

He chuckled inwardly at the idea that she thought it was dangerous to be close to a con. She didn’t know how dangerous it was for him to be close to her. If she knew she could ruin everything.

She slowly unwrapped the bandage from his foot. There was less pain now.

“When I get out I think I’ll miss your bedside manner. Think they’ll let me choose you as my medical?” he said jokingly.

“Hopefully you won’t need my bedside manner when you’re away from the gardening shears and basketball elbows.”

He admired her tenacity in pinning down evasiveness.

“You say that like I sought them out,” he said curiously.

“You’re not what you seem, Michael Scofield. In here, your charm and manners place you above the rest. But I’ve seen you with the guards and the other cons. I’ve seen what the results are of your relationships with them. You’re two men and that’s why I have such a difficult time believing that there are answers to the enigma of your personality. It seems like the better you is in play when you’re in this room, but how am I to know if this isn’t the show you put on?”

“You can’t know.” He glanced over at the grate. “I can’t even know.”

He said it quietly and she didn’t push it, for which he was grateful. They were having too many serious conversations.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” was all she said.

April 29

“I’ve decided something,” he said when he came into the infirmary.

“Out with it,” she said, her tone belying the harshness of her words.

“I’ve been holding back on my feelings. I don’t want to be two people. Ask me a question, Doc. A personal question. I won’t promise to answer, but just ask away.”

She looked incredulous that he was actually serious about revealing himself, but the idea was intriguing, she would have to admit, he certainly thought it was.

“Favorite color?” she asked.

“Brown,” he answered promptly.

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows.

“No lie. Next question?”

“Favorite memory of your brother?” She started to push deeper.

His face grew quieter, but he answered gamely.

“The night after I got out of foster care and he came home from juvie. He made me dinner, just like mom used to.” He didn’t elaborate further. It wasn’t a memory he wanted to dwell on just now.

“What was your favorite class in college?”

“Engineering.” His smile reappeared.

“Engineering? Plain old engineering? No special acronyms in the front?”

“Not plain,” he said and laughed. “But yes.”

“Longest relationship?” She was blushing when she asked the question.

He ducked his head.

“Two years.”

“Who and how old were you?”

“Her name was Monica. I was twenty-two.”

“Where’d you meet?” she asked.

“Cubs game.”

“You bought your tickets?” she asked suddenly.

“Yeah, something me and Linc did when things got rough.”

“Did you love her?” she asked, turning wholly away to dispose of the bandages.

He paused for a second but she didn’t turn around. He sucked in a deep breath, wondering if he should’ve started this game.

“Yeah, as much as I could.”

“What does that mean?” she turned around and looked at him briefly before picking up her clipboard and appearing to study it.

“It means…” He didn’t know what it meant. There was no way he could explain what had happened to her. “It means that I…hold things in too much.”

***

He caught her gaze and held it. The warning signs seemed to almost visibly flash at her and she blinked.

“My turn for a question,” he said softly, making his tone light.

A half smile urged her face upwards.

“Ask away,” she said, wondering what she was inviting upon herself.

He leaned forward deliberately.

“What was your first impression of me?”

A genuine blush started on her face and a million lies raced through her head. She cleared her throat and looked down.

“Uh, why can’t the…prisoners be more ugly?”

He laughed softly in his throat and she liked the sound.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

She dared to look at his face and knew it was a mistake. She heard herself speaking from a long distance away.

“I’m going to get backed up, so you’re good to go.”

“Thanks, Doc. I feel better.” He slid off the table and headed for the door, a smile on his face.

She took a few breaths and went to call her next patient.

April 30

She blushed when she saw his name on her appointment sheet. She blushed when she spotted him through the glass as the badge took off his cuffs. She blushed when he came into the room and sat down.

He smirked slightly, but apparently felt compassion over her embarrassment and didn’t say anything.

“How’s the toe?” she asked, wanting to stay business-like today.

“You mean the lack of toes? I’m sure wherever they are, they’re fine,” he said lightly.

“Very funny. I’m sure you have them cracking up over in Gen Pop.”

“I don’t think my wit translates very well over there. Maybe you’re the only one who understands me,” he said in a mock-sad tone.

“Which probably says something about me,” she returned. “The foot looks clean, but we’ll check it again tomorrow, then we might be able to leave it alone for a while.”

“Thanks, you’re probably only saying it so I won’t have to take off my shoe anymore.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said in a comforting tone. “I’m sure the smell is entirely genetic.”

“Really?” he queried, the corners of his mouth quivering with a smile. “I’ll be sure and tell Linc you said that. The next time you give him a check up, be careful.”

“Surely, you care more for me than-” she stopped abruptly. Not a good area of conversation, even if she had meant it in fun. “In that hypothetical situation where reality doesn’t exist,” she said softly and finished his shot.

She turned away and he let her have a few seconds to compose herself but somehow she wished she could study his reaction.

“You know,” he said carefully. “The non-hypothetical situation makes such things unlikely and unwise, but reality doesn’t have to be a sterile, unfeeling place.”

“Which sounds pretty,” she said grudgingly. “I don’t want to make a big deal. Have a good day, Michael.”

“Sara.” She turned, wanting to reprimand him, but not seeming to be able to. It was the first time she’d ever heard him say her name. “You too.”

He had a way of delivering anti-climaxes that vexed and excited her.

May 1

“You seem distracted.”

She apparently noticed his habit of tapping his fingers when anxious.

“Got a lot on my mind, I guess,” he said, trying to keep it light.

“Yeah? Have anything to do with the people who took these toes?”

He sighed and deliberately looked away.

“Nice flowers.”

“Right,” she said bitterly.

He had obviously lighted on the very thing she didn’t want to talk about.

“Do we have an admirer?” he asked casually. He hoped not.

“They're from my father,” she answered shortly

Sweet feeling of relief.

“Ah. What's the occasion?”

“It's my birthday.”

Funny how that was one thing he didn’t know about her. It must have not stuck.

“Today?”

“Mm-hm,” she confirmed.

“Happy birthday,” he said warmly.

“Thank you.”

“Okay...” Her lack of response puzzled him.

“Huh?” She was seemingly trying not to dwell on an unhappy topic, but he couldn’t understand why.

“Nothing. Birthdays aren't usually a sore subject, that's all. Unless the celebrant is feeling her age, which I don't see how you could be.”

She did smile at that.

“I'm twenty-nine years old, Michael. I'm not feeling my age. It's just that out of those twenty-nine birthdays, my father has actually managed to see me on precisely...six of them. So I get flowers instead. Flowers that end up dead and in the trash a week later.” She paused. “That sounded bitter, huh?”

“Kind of.” He wondered what it would be like to see the father you knew didn’t care about you.

“It's not a big deal. You are all set, I will see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He walked to the door, not wanting to cause her any more pain today. “I'm sorry you feel that way. About the flowers, I mean.”

May 2

He had a secret and he liked it.

“You threw away your flowers,” he remarked.

She didn’t know his secret joy and obviously yesterday’s apathy hadn’t left her.

“Like I said, they don't last,” she said.

“I don't think they're dead yet.” He liked talking in allegory.

“I don't like getting attached to things if I know they won't last. There you go,” she said, basically dismissing him.

He’d never seen this side to her. Her father seemed to bring it out and he felt a sudden, irrational irritation at the man.

“Why are you so cynical?” he asked out of pure curiosity.

“Michael, I think there's cynicism and then there's realism.”

“And then there's optimism. Hope, faith.” It was something he had to cling to every day or weep with the problems that surrounded him.

“This coming from an eight-toed guy locked in a penitentiary?”

“Toes are overrated,” he said, wiggling his foot.

“Thank you for trying to make me smile. Not today,” she said.

His heart suddenly ached for her, but he still had his secret.

“You never know,” he replied.

“We're all set,” she said, not even looking at him.

He walked out the door and maneuvered himself by the window to watch.

She held the flower and her smile slowly grew. This wouldn’t die.

May 3

“You kept it.” It thrilled him to know it. He hadn’t wanted to presume she would.

“Kept what?” she asked.

Of course maybe she’d just forgotten about it.

“The flower.”

“Yeah, well, I'm a pack rat. I never throw anything out.”

He looked around the room. No, she hadn’t forgotten it.

“Yeah, all this clutter. It's overwhelming,” Michael replied.

“You should see my apartment,” she replied and he grinned at the opening.

***

She wanted to get away from the subject of the flower. It was too personal.

“Whoa. We haven't even had our first date yet and you're already inviting me in. I thought you were a nice girl.”

At that point she realized she couldn’t get away from personal and decided to play along.

“Oh, Michael, we all know nice girls finish last.”

“So where do you finish?” he queried.

“That depends on where I start.” She gestured for him to lift up his shirt, vaguely remembering how well that had gone the last time. It was no better today. “Deep breath.” She could feel the trembling of her hands as they touched him. “Exhale.” She could feel his heart speed up and she began to forget about the room she was in. All she could see were his eyes. “Inhale.”

The rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand nearly overwhelmed her and her grip on his shoulder was as much about keeping her from falling as anything else.

“Sara, we're backing up out here,” Katie’s voice abruptly said.

She inwardly grimaced. Never had there been a worse time for Katie to come in. Or a better time perhaps.

“Right, I'm sorry.” Her eyes faded and her professional caution came back to her. The moment had gone. “I'm gonna get your shot.”

He watched her leave.

She was subdued while she gave him the shot, still recovering. She gave him a shy smile as a farewell, not trusting herself with more. She might just as well admit she didn’t care he was an inmate.

May 5

“So you're married?” she asked, forcing herself to speak what she’d come here to say.

“Uh, well...not in the traditional sense of the word,” he fumbled.

She couldn’t see how he could be so easy going and casual about this. After everything that had transpired between them, he had lied to her about the single most important thing. She was furious at him and at herself for letting things get to the point they had. She shouldn’t even have to be at the fence demanding answers.

“Michael, we're both adults. Put your cards on the table.” He didn’t move. “Okay, I'll go first. Um, as one of a very few women around here, I'm used to a certain amount of innuendo and flirtation being thrown my way. I'm not used to enjoying it.”

That made him smile, relief on his face.

“Sara...” he started and a few days ago his tone would have made her insides squirm.

“It's Dr. Tancredi. And please let me finish.” The relief vanished from his face. “I'm not a jealous woman but I'm a careful one. And for some reason when I'm around you, I'm not careful.”

“You don't have to be,” he said earnestly.

“Yes, I do. There are so many questions surrounding you, Michael. There are way too many. So, here's the deal. Um...from now on, your shots, any medical concerns, they're all fine as long as it's doctor/patient. But personal questions and favors of any kind are no longer part of our relationship.”

She’d labored over what to do now that she knew the truth. They could no longer continue in the same fashion without her feeling lied to and betrayed or becoming closer to someone who was dangerous. She didn’t want to be the other woman. It all came down to distancing herself. She’d finally seen his true self.

She walked away.

“The questions you have about me. There are answers,” he said to her back.

She didn’t stop, but kept going. Those answers weren’t going to be gotten by a game played in a prison infirmary. Neither of them had the luxury of playing anymore.

***

He’d missed her yesterday. He’d wondered if maybe she was worried over getting too close to him. At least he’d gotten to get a glimpse of her during Tweener’s “episode.”

Her words from behind came as a shock and he’d whirled around, pocketing his watch. It had taken him a few seconds to piece together what she’d said and the world came crashing down.

It frustrated him to not be able to tell her the truth, to let her know that he valued her safety and honor above everything.

He pressed himself against the fence, cursing under his breath. People might call him a genius, but he hadn’t factored Nika into the equation of his new feelings and how it might affect the one person he didn’t want to hurt. Now he had. He’d thought he’d mapped out every contingency. A little humility was just what he needed.

***

She didn’t say anything. She suddenly realized there was nothing to talk about if they couldn’t be personal. They’d progressed too far into some kind of relationship. She cast her mind anxiously for whatever she talked to the other inmates about and realized she didn’t talk to the other inmates. Unless there was something she needed to say or she was warding off advances, her infirmary visits were silent.

“It’s cooled down a lot,” she said quietly.

“Definitely,” was his short answer.

“May certainly decided not to pull an April on us. I heard talk of a late snow even,” Sara said desperately.

“Doctor, if we’re not going to talk, we might as well not talk.”

“Well, we’re about done anyway,” she said quietly. He was being compliant with her wishes and she was glad. She was still hurt and angry, but a small, rebellious part of her wanted him to be defiant and push the boundaries. That part was dangerous enough for her to hasten through his visit when, before, she had gone as slowly as possible. “See you tomorrow.”

***

His equilibrium was off. He didn’t know what to do now that he wasn’t allowed to really talk to her. He’d had questions, things he wanted to know that all his research could never tell him. He suddenly burned to become knowledgeable about the intimate details of her life, but she’d shut the door and there was nothing he could say without reopening it. He didn’t want to do that to her, despite the fact it was all he wanted to do.

He couldn’t stand her mindlessly going on about the weather. He wanted her to speak about her, about him, about them! He wanted to explain.

He bid her goodbye, hoping the awkwardness of their earlier encounter wouldn’t taint tomorrow as much as it had today.

May 6

“Your toes are coming along nicely. I think we can actually leave them alone now. Apart from the apparent lack you should be feeling great,” Sara said, letting him put his socks back on.

“Oh, I do. Your care has proved excellent,” he said strongly. She was trying to be nonchalant. She’d never met a prisoner so dangerous and so unassuming. She was drawn to his mystery and she feared it. “Something on your mind, Doc?” Was it wrong that she missed the way he said her name? “I hope no lingering questions about my…marital status.”

It was pointless to talk about it, but she wanted an explanation as much as he appeared to want to give her one. She had to stay resolved.

“Michael, stop. We’re completely professional in here at all times, remember?”

“Maybe you should call me Mr. Scofield and make it official.”

He looked away from her towards the window. She got the impression, as she often did, that he was doing two things at once.

“This isn’t a punishment, Michael. It has nothing to do with me whether you’re married or not. I simply don’t want any lines crossed. They’re in place for a reason.”

“Lines usually have a reason. But lines can be rearranged if they’re in a bad position,” Michael said.

“These ones aren’t.”

“Well, I’m sure the doctor knows best.” He glanced at her, his gaze piercing and indifferent at the same time.

“Roll up your sleeve.” He complied and she felt vulnerable under his eyes, but she concentrated on doing her job. A slight surge of anger over his apparent confidence welled within her. “There, you’re all set, Mr. Scofield. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” He said it like a promise.

May 7

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, attempting to feel her out.

“Too much time on your hands in your cell?” She busied herself in preparing the needle.

“I never thought about it before, but prison is great for reflection,” he said.

“Would that all the cons here did more of it,” she answered.

“Their apparent lack of remorse bother you?” he asked.

“It’s the lack of ability to reach them. They aren’t very many I feel I can get to. Sometimes, even then, they simply put up a wall or a distraction,” she said pointedly.

“I told you there were answers. I wish I could lay them out for you,” he said, his voice catching slightly.

“There’s nothing stopping you but your own fear,” she said sternly.

“Remember that fear is nothing to me,” he said, trying to reach her.

“Yet the monsters haven’t gone away. One day you’re going to be carried out of here in a body bag,” she said, and was he just imagining the wince on her face?

“None of that matters anyway. You and I have a good professional relationship going on.” He was amazed at how bitter he sounded.

“Michael,” she said, turning a professional face toward him, “part of my professional relationship is providing counsel, help, and advice to my patients. That I can offer you, so long as it doesn’t cross any lines, as we already discussed.”

“You already counsel me. There’s nothing specific I need,” he said, sighing.

“Then we’re done here.” She motioned for him to put pressure on his arm.

He complied, slowly sliding off the table. He gave her a lingering, measuring glance before exiting the room.

May 8

He had never felt so humiliated. Bellick had been nothing but beastly to him since the moment he stepped through the prison gates, but today had been the worst. He didn’t care what Bellick thought of him. He worried for a moment about Nika and then his thoughts went straight to the point of humiliation, to the person sitting in front of him, and writhed in the fact that she had witnessed the whole thing. He couldn’t take her hurt glances and silence anymore. He had to try to explain.

“He’s had it out for me since the day I got here.” She silently kept at her work. “Sorry.” He moved his arm for her. “I only married her so she could get her green card.”

“I saw you coming out of the conjugal room.” Her tone was quiet, solid, but with just a hint of bitterness.

“It’s just business,” he answered, not daring to say anything more.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she simply shook her head.

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Michael.”

“I know.” He wished she would look at him. Surely, his sincerity must be emblazoned on his forehead. “But I want to.”

She gave him a quick glance, but then she left and he sat there looking after her.

May 9 Cont.

Things between them had been prickly at best the past few days. His marriage had ruined everything. But today was the day he was leaving and certainly the last time he would see her. He couldn’t leave it like that.

“It feels like you’ve been the clean up crew for me the whole time I’ve been in here. Toes, contusions, insulin shots,” he listed.

“Well, somebody’s gotta do it,” she answered carefully.

“I’m grateful.” His mind raced on how to say what he wanted to communicate to her. “You ever think…in another life?”

“I won’t be that woman, Michael,” she said firmly.

“I wasn’t asking you to be.” He wasn’t trying anything. He just wanted to make their peace. “But it is something to wonder about. What if? Anyway, I just wanted to make sure it was said.”

He doubted he could get a response out of her.

***

She was doing her best to be business like. It was harder each day and sometimes she wondered how she was supposed to get through the next five years of his incarceration without slugging him and/or pushing him back on the examining table and playing doctor with earnest.

Today he appeared determined to push his boundaries.

“Why do I feel like you’re saying goodbye to me?” She had the curious sensation that he was opening up to her in a way that she’d craved since day one, but it didn’t last.

He shrugged evasively.

“I don’t know. I guess in a place like this you never know which day’s gonna be your last.”

She was confused and slightly suspicious of his behavior, but Katie entered and interrupted her furious thoughts.

”Sara, we got a back up out here.”

“Okay.” She got her mind back on her work, but remembered why she was trying so hard not to be judgmental. There were other things going on that were above either of them. “You’re set. I, um, I’m sorry about your brother.” That was as much openness as she could give him without crossing a line.

“Doctor.”

His voice was a caress. His hand caught hold of her arm, just below her elbow and ran down it softly to her hand. His fingers lightly grazed and soothed and the tingles in her spine seemed to paralyze her. It was the first time he’d ever touched her, not counting those few desperate moments during the riots. There had been little brushes of fingers, bumps of the shoulder, and she’d had to treat his wounds often enough to be familiar with the way his skin felt. But this…this was different and it was heavenly.

His voice was low and rough, like he was having trouble concentrating on what he wanted to say, now that he’d dared to do what he was doing.

“Thank you,” he said.

He slid off the bench, as if he needed to leave the room immediately.

She wondered how many more times she would stand in the middle of a room staring at nothing because of him and the way he treated her. She felt the ghost of his fingers again and shivered before hastily going to call her next patient.

May 10

Today she wasn’t thinking about him in terms of herself. Today, she was busy trying not to imagine what must be going through his head as he saw his brother through the glass and was unable to go to him. Apparently, he wasn’t thinking about her either.

“I need to see my brother. Just to talk. For five minutes,” he pleaded.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try.” Her compassion threatened to overwhelm her and she had to force herself not to beg the guard like a little girl. It was no use and she had to go back to Michael and tell him no. “Um, I’m sorry; I’m told that you have to wait until final visitation.”

The look on his face broke her heart for the third time.

“Would you talk to your father for me? Please,” he asked.

“Believe me, my father knows where I stand on the death penalty and I’m just as clear on his stand.”

“Sara,” he caught himself and fumbled with his words. “Uh, Dr. Tencredi, I’m sorry.” She caught her breath at the sound of her name. She’d missed it. “This isn’t about the morality of the death penalty. This is…this is about killing an innocent man, my brother, and surely your father can’t be in favor of that. Just talk to Lincoln’s attorneys, just for an hour, and I swear to God you’ll be convinced of his innocence.”

He was desperate and yet, he was trying to honor her wishes. It was enough to make her cry, but the situation was too serious for that. She moved closer to communicate her point.

“Michael, I would pick up the phone right now if I thought there was a chance that I could make a difference. But you have to understand I’m the last person in the world my father listens to. He hates what I do. He hates what I believe in. And if I’m the one asking for clemency for your brother, your brother won’t get it. I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t stand the look on his face. She felt incredibly helpless and she forgave him for his marriage because there was nothing else she could offer him in such a desperate moment.

***

He’d admit it, he was desperate. He just needed Linc to understand. He’d failed Linc. Now he grasped at straws and reached out to the one person he trusted, even if she hated him now.

When she couldn’t help him, he was defeated.

He moved to the window, all his attention on his brother. He desperately tried to communicate his apology. He wanted to bury his head in her arms, but he knew he couldn’t. So he stood there and wished he could as Linc moved further from him and closer to his death.

May 11

“So, a stay of execution,” she said as she moved into the room.

He turned and grinned at her. Full on grinned. This wasn’t the same man who she had seen in the viewing room the previous night. The fact puzzled her.

“Now there’s a chance,” he said happily.

“For Lincoln to be exonerated?” she asked.

“Something like that,” he mumbled, but he offered her his arm cheerfully.

“I’m glad to see you so up,” she said. “It hasn’t been a very fun last couple of days.”

“No, it really hasn’t,” he agreed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help. I…I just want to say that the situation is horrible. I know that doesn’t solve anything,” she told him.

“It solves more than you know.” She looked at him and her hand hung poised above his arm with the needle. “Thank you.” She felt a jolt at the last memory of his saying ‘thank you’ and wished he’d say it the same way this time. “Thank you for going to see Veronica and your father. I’m glad you know the truth.”

“I’m sorry the truth isn’t being seen by the right people. It doesn’t much matter if I know it,” she said.

“It matters.” His words were adamant. “I couldn’t stand it if…when it happens, you didn’t know the truth.”

“Why would it matter then?” she said, feeling worried for some reason she couldn’t explain.

“Because…” he said in a low voice, not looking at her. “I can’t bear to have you think ill of me.”

“For what it’s worth,” she said slowly, hardly believing she was saying this to a prisoner. “I don’t think ill of you. For any actions. Past, present, or marital.” She crossed to the sink and gripped the edge with her fingers, trying to calm herself. She was playing with fire.

“I’m glad,” he said, his tone speaking his joy.

“Good, we both are. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said briskly as he left.

She washed her hands and wondered about him. He hadn’t seemed that worried about his brother up until the almost execution. Then he had fallen apart. Now he was strong again. Plus, she had just…practically bared her soul. The situation was bound to get interesting.

***

Now that Linc was out of immediate danger, he could go back to concocting his plan, but as he’d sat with her he was distracted by the thought of the smooth skin of her arm and the way her fingers could wrap around his. He wondered if she remembered their brief contact and went over it in detail like he did.

He hadn’t thought he could feel this good in this place. But her words of absolution and knowledge of the truth had that effect and he’d repressed the urge to thank her with more than his words.

He’d wanted to laugh, but simply left feeling that at least he could undertake his dangerous journey through the walls tonight without worrying about her opinion of him.

May 12

She felt his eyes on her and hastened to his side. She wondered at the familiarity that caused her to speak to him as if he were more than a patient. No, she didn’t wonder, it just felt right.

“Michael, it’s Sara. How are you feeling?”

“Groggy,” he murmured.

Grogginess on him was adorable and she wondered if he always looked like this when he woke up. She spent a brief second wishing she could find out.

“It’s the anesthesia,” she answered instead.

“Why did I have anesthesia?” He looked quite confused, like her face was the only thing he could focus on and he wanted her to solve all his problems and fix him.

Perhaps she was reading too much into his expression.

“We had to perform a procedure,” she said, which brought her mind back to the real business at hand and the awkwardness of what would happen when he regained full consciousness.

She had to leave to attend to other patients, but she came back and blushed as she helped him put his shirt back on. It was painful for him, but she had deliberately taken her gloves off and her gentle touch was hopefully easier to focus on than the burn.

She loved the feeling of helping him, but the fact that he needed help never left her mind. She was feeling righteously indignant at whoever had done this and she wanted answers. She was prepared to be very annoyed at him if he didn’t give them.

“Painkillers?” she offered.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

She leaned against the counter and folded her arms. She prepared to do battle.

“Uh, I’d take the pills.”

“Do I get to see it?” He was trying to be jovial about something incredibly serious.

“No, bandage stays on for now. Take your pills.” He did as instructed, then waited expectantly. “Your cellmate do this to you?”

“Sucre?” He smiled at the admittedly ludicrous suggestion. “No.”

“Who did?” she pushed.

He sighed and looked like he was forcing himself to be stoic. She guessed that would always be the case as long as they were inside these walls.

“This is the part where I don’t answer you.”

“All right.” She hoped he understood her anger was on his behalf as much as it was directed at him, but she was mostly too angry to care. “I’ll have you sent back to your cell.” She walked briskly away and gestured to the guard. “All yours.”

She walked into her office and picked up the phone. He may not be willing to risk telling the truth, but she was all too willing and she would see that justice was done in this situation, whether he liked it or not.

May 13

She’d been nervous about seeing him in Ad-Seg. Things were tense and volatile enough with glass windows and people going in and out, but alone in a dark cell with him? What would happen? Still, finding him on the floor was not what she’d envisioned when she’d been called earlier than her plan for his regular shot.

“Light on 12.”

“Would you wait outside, please?” she asked automatically. She moved into the cell slowly to avoid startling him. “Michael?” She bent down and carefully looked at him. “Okay, you’re gonna feel my fingers on your wrist.” She lifted his head gently. “Come on, I need your eyes.”

She passed the light over his non-responsive eyes.

It hurt because his eyes were always so full of emotion. His face could be granite, but his eyes, they were passionate at all times, no matter what direction the passion had taken. Now they were empty.

“I’m gonna take a look at that hand.” His head tilted towards her and she wondered how many more times this man would break her heart. “You’re gonna be okay.” She awkwardly patted his shoulder, wishing she could do more. “You’re gonna be okay.”

***

He leaned his head toward her, seeking her warmth. He wished he could spare some energy to enjoy her closeness and comfort, but it took all his effort to keep himself void of consciousness. Actually, it wasn’t that hard to act, which scared him. He had put his blood into this. He reflected vaguely that the line between genius and insanity and the lines of reality were very close and easy to cross. He just needed to stay on this side and, for some reason; it was easier to do with her so close by.

May 15

It was really good to see him.

“Hey.”

“Hi. They said you wanted to talk to me,” she said casually.

Not that she hadn’t been getting hourly reports from the psych doctor, not that she hadn’t had to restrain herself from coming to see him yesterday, even though she’d signed him over and the doctors here were treating his physical and psychological needs.

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael said.

“Okay.” She moved into the room gesturing to the orderly. “It’s good.”

“Uh, please.” He gestured to the bed, looking awkward, which made sense.

She was on what was technically his turf and he was host here. That coupled with the fact that the last time he’d seen her he’d been drooling, though she didn’t know how much he remembered of that.

“Thanks.” She sat down and he sat down next to her.

“I made you something.” He handed it to her and smiled at her confused reaction. “It’s an ashtray.”

“Um, I don’t smoke.” She wondered if he was still a little off.

“Yeah, I know. But, uh, they only let us make these and jewelry and I didn’t figure you for the macaroni necklace type.”

She had to smile. He knew her well, which scared her.

“That’s very sweet.” She wanted to sit there and have him tell her things and reveal how well he knew her, but he was her patient and she was his doctor. “Uh, how about we talk about how you’re doing?

“I think we both know I don’t belong here.” He looked down,. “I don’t remember much about that night but being locked up in Ad-Seg, something must have snapped. What I’m trying to say is I think I’ve had enough of arts and crafts. But that’s your call.”

“And the doctors here do say that you’ve been acting fine. The problem is that if you don’t tell the Pope who burned you he’s going to lock you back up in Ad-Seg and after a couple of days of that you’re going to be right back here.”

She hesitated and then tentatively reached over to grasp his arm. He didn’t flinch, but gave a little shuddering sigh at the feel of her hand. She observed her shaking fingers. This gesture was more than physical longing, it was connection.

“Michael, I hate what happened to you and I hate that you’re here. But you have got to let me help you. If you want to get out of Psych Ward and stay out, you’ve got to tell the Pope the truth about that burn.”

She hoped, even though she didn’t want to have to hear it, that he would tell her. She wanted his confidence.

***

He was ashamed that he was lying to her again, especially because he remembered everything, he remembered her. He’d thought about it all the previous day. He hated manipulating her like this, but he had to get out.

The touch of her hand was intoxicating and there was one moment when he considered revealing all. He wanted to tell her, but Lincoln’s face swam in front of his eyes and he refrained and concentrated on the feel of her hand on his arm.

May 15 cont.

For some reason meeting him today made her nervous. To find him waiting for her at the door made her feel like something was going to happen. He stood too close as she fumbled with her keys.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning,” he replied.

His voice was low and she couldn’t stop a shiver from crawling up her spine.

“How ya, how ya feeling today?” She couldn’t concentrate as he stood there smiling so confidently.

“Better,” he said.

“Good.”

He followed her into the room.

She noted his silence, but she didn’t need to stir up any embers by provoking him today. She worked quietly, trying to concentrate on the burn and not the tattoos and skin surrounding it.

Then he kissed her.

She’d imagined so many times what his lips would taste like. The actual experience was better than that. She lost herself to the moment and put her hands up on to his neck.

She slowly broke away from the kiss, her mind racing, her thoughts charging in circles within her head. Words like bad, run, guard, inmate, heaven, kiss, love, trust, desire, loyalty, professionalism, and need ran through her head, each vying for her attention.

She’d known this day was coming. She’d just hoped it could be put off for a few more years, until he was ready for parole.

“What do you want from me, Michael?” She didn’t know what she wanted to hear. Her eyes searched his; wanting answers in the only place she’d ever gotten them from.

“Sara. I need you to do something for me.” He sounded so broken.

“What?”

He looked down for a moment.

“Wait for me.” His voice came out rough and desperate. He tangled his fingers in her hair. She savored the sensation of his forehead against hers. “It won’t always be like this. In this room, in this place.”

Slowly, her mind calmed and her situation came back to face her. She could not act on her desires like this. She could not. She allowed herself the brief pleasure of kissing his fingers.

“Until then I can’t. We can’t.” An orderly walked into the room and she jumped with frustration and nerves. “I can’t. And I gotta go.”

She walked away with a new set of problems.

***

He was nervous to see her today. Either way, things would change between them. He stood too close as she fumbled with her keys.

“Morning,” she said, shifting slightly away from him.

“Morning.”

“How ya, how ya feeling today?” she asked and he smiled at her.

“Better.”

“Good,” she replied.

He followed her into the room, tense and filled with dread and longing. He had no idea what was going to happen. All he knew was that his brother’s life hung in the balance. He glanced down at her keys as he gingerly took off his shirt so she could check his burn. How could he do this without violating her trust anymore than he already had?

He couldn’t.

He watched her. He sat in pensive agony at the deed to be done.

She worked quietly while he desperately tried to figure out what to do.

He kissed her.

He’d imagined so many times what her lips would taste like. It was like nothing his imagination could have conjured. He had the brief sensation of warmth as her hands came up to his neck.

He couldn’t do it.

She slowly broke away from the kiss.

“What do you want from me, Michael?” Her eyes searched his and he didn’t know what she saw in them.

“Sara. I need you to do something for me.”

“What?” she asked.

He looked down and stared at her keys. Even now, he couldn’t, he couldn’t do it himself. All he desired was her love. All his pretenses and defenses were down. He couldn’t back down from his plan, but he couldn’t turn away from her.

“Wait for me.” His voice came out rough and desperate. He tangled his fingers in her hair as he’d always longed to do. “It won’t always be like this. In this room, in this place.”

She gave him the brief pleasure of kissing his fingers. He ached to feel those lips again with his.

“Until then I can’t. We can’t.” An orderly walked into the room and she jumped. “I can’t. And I gotta go.”

She walked away with her keys. He sat bowed, defenseless, and defeated, with an enormous choice to make.

***

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She didn’t even want to look at him, she felt so betrayed. It didn’t even matter anymore, but she would see this through.

“How are you?” he asked, his words guarded but inviting.

“I’m fine. You?” She almost spit the words at him.

“Fine,” he answered cautiously.

“Can I have your hand please?” she asked.

She longed for this interview to be over, because she didn’t know if she could trust herself to be professional and not go off on a rant at him. Thank goodness for Katie and her presence in the room.

“Here they are,” said that blessed Katie.

“Here what are?” Sara asked.

“Your keys. They were right over there by your inbox.” Sara glanced at him sharply and he barely met her eyes. It served to cement the anger boiling within. “But you got a maintenance guy out here says you want him to change the locks. You want me to call him off?”

“No, send him in.” She said it deliberately, watching his face. It was defeated and it gave her a slight thrill of triumph. For once she wasn’t squirming under his gaze.

“Is it okay if I…?” The maintenance guy knelt in front of her door.

“Yeah, we’re about done here.” She meant it in more ways than one. This wasn’t something that could be explained like his marriage. He’d crossed a definite line today. “Is there something wrong?” she asked him pointedly.

She was enjoying this under all her anger. It felt good to be the one on top.

“No. Unless you want to talk about what happened this morning,” he said quietly.

“I think I have a pretty good idea. We’re done here.”

She walked away and left him.

***

Something was off. He could feel it.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

She didn’t even look at him, something was very wrong.

“How are you?” He wanted to bring her back. He didn’t know how. He wondered if she’d become angry over his actions that morning. But no, he’d felt her hunger. He’d felt it again through the fence earlier.

“I’m fine. You?” The words seemed to bite at him.

“Fine,” he answered cautiously.

“Can I have your hand please?”

He offered it, while trying to think of what he’d done. It was difficult with the nurse in the room.

“Here they are,” said the nurse.

“Here what are?” asked Sara.

“Your keys. They were right over there by your inbox.” She glanced at him sharply and he barely met her eyes. “But you got a maintenance guy out here says you want him to change the locks.” He glanced sharply at her. “You want me to call him off?”

“No, send him in.” She said it deliberately, watching his face.

He knew it was defeated.

“Is it okay if I…?” The maintenance guy knelt in front of her door.

“Yeah, we’re about done here.” She meant it in more ways than one, he could tell. This wasn’t something that could be explained like Nika. He’d crossed a definite line today. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. Unless you want to talk about what happened this morning.”

He couldn’t reach her, he saw. It devastated him on levels he hadn’t even known existed. But this wasn’t about them, no matter what she may think. He would stand strong.

“I think I have a pretty good idea. We’re done here.”

She walked away and left him and he despaired of ever regaining even a semblance of her care.

***

She thought about calling a guard to remove him bodily. He wasn’t on her appointment sheet, but here he was, waiting for her. Didn’t anyone around here know that he’d met his infirmary limit for the day?

“Sara, I was thinking about something-” he began.

“Enough, Michael. Enough with the, the lies and the coincidences and the stories, all of it.” She couldn’t take that anymore. She needed the real man to step forward.

“It’s not what you think,” he said.

“I know what you did. The question is: are you man enough to admit it?” She folded her arms and waited.

“The keys,” he said and she was surprised he admitted it.

“Congratulations. Is that the first time you’ve been honest with me?”

“It’s not,” he said quietly.

“The second? What are you after, Michael? Is it drugs? Is it needles?” Her voice trembled on the last word and she could tell he’d noticed.

“Neither.”

“Then what?” she asked.

He bit his lip.

“Please understand that I never meant…I never wanted to involve you in all this.”

“Well, you’ve done a pretty poor job of that,” she said.

“I came here to tell you something,” he said cautiously. She tensed. “I’m getting my brother out of here. Tonight. And I need your help.”

“Michael, ah, honestly, for your own good, don’t say anything more.” Her brain had stopped working and she knew she should be screaming for a guard.

“You know he’s innocent,” he persisted.

“Do what you’re talking about and he won’t be,” she retorted.

“But he’ll still be alive.”

She could not believe his gall.

“You understand that I am required to report everything you are telling me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then why would you…?”

Was he that confident in his manipulation of her? Did he think she would swoon at his feet like Monica and Nika and no doubt many others?

“Because you’re the only one that can help.” He took a deep breath. “And because I know you want to be part of the solution.”

“Yeah, aiding and abetting is not part of the solution,” she shot back.

“Neither is doing nothing knowing what you know about his case,” he said.

She whirled in anger.

“How dare you put this on me? I did what I could. I gave my father the information from Lincol-”

He cut in, actual ire in his voice for the first time.

“No offense to your father. But the people who are framing Lincoln, let’s just say they have a higher security clearance.”

“So, now it’s a conspiracy?” She was starting to wonder about his sanity. Maybe that low latent inhibition, or whatever the hell it was his shrink said he had, came with mental illness instead of creative genius.

“I didn’t come here to have a debate,” he said firmly.

“You’re asking me to break the law.”

It shouldn’t be too surprising coming from a convict. They all asked her to do things. But not this one and she’d let herself believe he wouldn’t.

“I’m asking you to make a mistake.” His voice rang out and then quieted. “Not hurt anyone, not steal anything. Just forget to lock up. Leave the door unlocked when you leave tonight. That’s it. Please.”

Her eyes opened in realization and the betrayal became that much more unbearable.

“This is where you’re breaking out of? This room?” she said. Her room. Their room.

“There are alarm contacts on the glass surrounding the door; otherwise, I wouldn’t need you to…” He fumbled with his words.

“I was part of your plan.” It was ridiculous how much that hurt to find out and she had to ask more. “Was it all an act?”

“At first, yes. I needed to be here, but then I wanted to be here, with you.”

She rolled her eyes. How could she have fallen for something like this?

“Right,” she said, her wounded feelings threatening to burst out and she didn’t know what it would look like.

“And it’s killing me to know that you’ll never believe that.” She turned to leave, but he stepped closer. “Whatever you may think of me, this is about Lincoln. Don’t make him pay for my mistakes.”

She stared at him for one brief second before abruptly leaving, her entire body in pain from what should not even be a choice. An overwhelming desire for a drink ran over her and she wanted to give in to it for the first time in two years.

***

She stopped short when she saw him.

“Sara, I was thinking about something-” he began, determined to get it out right.

“Enough, Michael. Enough with the, the lies and the coincidences and the stories, all of it.”

“It’s not what you think,” he said.

“I know what you did. The question is: are you man enough to admit it?” She folded her arms and waited.

“The keys.” He laid himself bare in that moment.

“Congratulations. Is that the first time you’ve been honest with me?”

“It’s not,” he insisted.

That hurt to hear, but it was just.

“The second? What are you after, Michael? Is it drugs? Is it needles?” Her voice trembled on the last word.

“Neither.”

“Then what?” she asked.

He bit his lip. He had to make her understand.

“Please understand that I never meant…I never wanted to involve you in all this.”

“Well, you’ve done a pretty poor job of that,” she retorted.

“I came here to tell you something.” The time had come. She was the woman he thought she was, but he was risking everything on counting on her knowing that. “I’m getting my brother out of here. Tonight. And I need your help.”

“Michael, ah, honestly, for your own good, don’t say anything more,” she said, holding up a hand to stop him.

“You know he’s innocent,” he persisted.

“Do what you’re talking about and he won’t be.”

“But he’ll still be alive,” Michael said firmly.

“You understand that I am required to report everything you are telling me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then why would you…?”

“Because you’re the only one that can help.” He took a deep breath. “And because I know you want to be part of the solution.”

“Yeah, aiding and abetting is not part of the solution.”

“Neither is doing nothing knowing what you know about his case.”

She whirled in anger.

“How dare you put this on me? I did what I could. I gave my father the information from Lincol-”

He cut in, letting his hurt over the corruption of his country bubble up and flow out towards her.

“No offense to your father. But the people who are framing Lincoln, let’s just say they have a higher security clearance.”

“So, now it’s a conspiracy?” She looked absolutely incredulous.

“I didn’t come here to have a debate.”

“You’re asking me to break the law,” she said loudly.

“I’m asking you to make a mistake.” His voice rang out and then quieted. “Not hurt anyone, not steal anything. Just forget to lock up. Leave the door unlocked when you leave tonight. That’s it. Please.”

Her eyes opened in realization.

“This is where you’re breaking out of? This room?”

He had to. Their room was the only way. She was the only way.

“There are alarm contacts on the glass surrounding the door, otherwise, I wouldn’t need you to…” He fumbled, knowing that wasn’t what she was asking.

“I was part of your plan,” she said, sounding broken. “Was it all an act?”

He’d come here to tell all, so he might as well finish the job.

“At first, yes. I needed to be here, but then I wanted to be here, with you.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Right.”

He wanted to break down, because he knew she wouldn’t take his words. He’d ruined that chance by all his deception. There weren’t words for the frustration that caused.

“And it’s killing me to know that you’ll never believe that.” She turned to leave, but he stepped closer. “Whatever you may think of me, this is about Lincoln. Don’t make him pay for my mistakes.”

She stared at him for one brief second before abruptly leaving.

He stood there and closed his eyes, savoring the smell and the feel of the room. One way or another, they had just had their last conversation in this room. It was a room that would haunt him no matter what happened. It was where he’d met and known her. The woman he loved, the woman he’d betrayed and used. He felt like it should be the room that witnessed him breaking down, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t had that luxury for a long time. Instead he’d just have to take the memories of her and this room, their time in this place, with him, and savor them always.