A/N: Hello readers, I know that it is more than a couple weeks with finals and the job I couldn't really find the time to write anything also I had to figure out what was going to happen to Jason in this story. The fourth and final installment of Prison Break my version if Jason Buchanan survived through his stabbing way back in the first season. I honestly have to say that I didn't expect to get this far with my original idea but I'm greatful with the support of the readers that it is possible. Confronting Instinct contains violence, language and sexuality.

Previous stories in order: Voices of Reality (season 1), Fractured Illusion (season 2), From Here to There (season 3).

Jason's conscious will be in bold letters.

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

Here I am, survived through the worst and came out on the lowest. Hiding, running and repeat - the life of an escapee. Meeting people and new places that turn out to be a lot worse than they are meant to appear. I can't say that I was perfect the whole way from that hellish night in Chicago to my current location in Los Angeles, I did a few things that I wasn't too proud of and was nearly driven insane. Meeting up with familiar faces until it was time to say good-bye, either to save their skin or my own, watching names of the other escapees being ticked off the list with only five left including me.

Whether walking or running, driving or flying I never stopped looking over my shoulder, the sensation of someone right behind you and the demons growing ever so louder. Perhaps I was stupid so long ago, that I should've just stuck with my original plan of attempting to slide back into my original life but curosity came and hell was the result.

Four years ago I was stabbed during a race war in the infamous Fox River prison located in Chicago. I was stabbed by a rival gang member and left to die while a genius by the name Michael Scofield watched in horror as my blood stained his clothes. Amazingly I survived the attack but things changed, another inmate had come in and taken my rightful place at Teddy's side and a plan that would cause a major fracture in the prison's picture perfect reputation.

An escape. A fantasy spread from one inmate to another to keep them going – to keep them entertained. However this time it was far from a fantasy – it was real and I had been in the middle of it. After the escape I realized that it was only the beginning – no matter how cheesy that sounds – but it was nonetheless true.

XXXXXX

The rain pounded against my windbreaker, blinding and forcing me to wipe my eyes every few seconds. Luckily there was no one around except for a few people who were waiting for the bus or just walking by not giving me a second glance. I suppose that was good too and I couldn't blame them since I smelled like crap.

Three weeks ago I had escaped a museum where a some coordinates were supposed to be exchanged between Michael and Lincoln and a sleazy company called The Company. I know not the most creative name but it seemed to be an unofficial branch of the government made up of corrupt government officials that were everywhere. From the museum I had managed to sneak my way out of the city by simply walking to the edge and hitchhiking with a young woman who didn't seem to mind the company of someone who smelled like gun powder and sweat. She drove me all the way to Riverside where I managed to beg enough money by making up a couple sob stories to buy a ticket that would take me through Orange to Los Angeles. I had used newspapers to clue together where the brothers were headed from people who claimed to have seen them, of course they were still wanted as were I but the only difference was that they still looked like their mugshots – I changed.

I shook the rain out of my now longish hair, before the prison my hair was usually short cropped and in prison Teddy forced me to put it up in a Mohawk. I kept my stubble shortened instead of letting it grow like my hair. Other than my facial hair nothing much has changed about me. Oh also something that you should know, I have a dead tracking device clamped to my wrist – still.

I guess I should explain that shouldn't I? When I was captured for possibly the twentieth time while I was running like a madman across the country the FBI came up with a plan that of course landed me as the bait. They wanted to capture Michael and Lincoln and so they planted me in the middle of the street with a fancy tracking device on my wrist. Surprisingly we managed not to get ourselves killed, I left though not wanting to be anywhere near the brothers so I fled to a key store where the manager managed to shut down the tracking chip but not actually take the whole brace off. I had it on when I played 'guard' at Sona and have it on still reminding me of the crap I had been through after the escape.

Giving a small sigh I retreated back into the alley and walked to the very end to my shelter which was a doorway. I know it wasn't much but the door to an abandoned building was triple locked with chain and metal bolts making it clear that no one was allowed inside. And since I wasn't the only homeless person in Los Angeles there wasn't much territory to go around. It was risky telling people who I was in order to get what I wanted because there was a fancy price on my head for a live capture thus the reason why I kept such a low profile using what money I had left over from the bus ticket and from begging to buy second hand clothes and bits of food here and there. It has been hard surviving on the most minimum I can't lie but the one thing that has kept me alive more than anything: instinct.

Before prison instinct was the last thing on my mind except for when there actually was trouble, I grew up sheltered like most kids in my neighbourhood and surrounding areas so we didn't need to worry. In prison instinct and I didn't get along too well but Teddy helped tame it and promised that I wouldn't have to deal with it no longer as long as I held onto his pocket declaring myself his official bitch. After the escape – instinct and I became the best of friends.

What about me?

Crap.

Forgot to mention a possibly important detail; my conscious. It came a couple weeks after I had escaped, after I was tortured by Mahone and his other tagalongs. At first it was one or two even the occasional sentence or question until three weeks ago it gave me a whole damn monologue. I can't say that it was stupid because it is me after all but it was slightly annoying since whatever it came up with something clever I found myself doing what it would tell me – it is me after all.

Another thing that I need to mention: I'm not crazy. In Fox River I was diagnosed with Psychogenetic Non-Epileptic Seizure a mimic of seizures triggered by possible disturbances in life – I was staying with Teddy mind you, then you have the stabbing, the escape and the thoughts of what-will-happen-after moments. But other than that I am completely fine…I think….

I peeked over the side of the doorway to see the alley still clear. Without a watch I had a hard time telling the time but I was sure that he was going to be here soon he did promise after all. I waited for about another fifteen minutes before a single person came down the alley wearing a confident smirk. I gripped the blade in my pocket and stepped out until I was sure that it was him I couldn't relax. When he tipped his baseball cap upward to show his face I let out a sigh of relief and took my hand out of my pocket.

"You were going to kill me?"

"Just a little nick."

"Ppfff, you can tell that to the guy you landed in the hospital Buchanan."

I stiffened slightly as he said my last name joshingly.

Darcy was the only one who saw through my disguise if that's what you want to call it. He was a clever street man well into his thirties yet he had a young complex to him making it seem he was twenty-ish. It helped him charm people especially ladies into giving him money for food and drink but he considered himself too ugly to prostitute. Darcy was not so honest though as he was quite the thief but kept things simple only doing complex pull offs if the time called for it or if it was completely necessary meaning a life or death situation however those moments rarely happened. He was a funny guy of sorts liking to annoy people while just playing it cool in order to get what he wants.

"So I found that van three blocks away," Darcy said sitting on the dirty pavement, "good think ya moved."

I nodded, so they were still after me.

Wonder who they could be, the Company perhaps?

Or just police.

The police wouldn't stalk you for a week and a half.

My conscious had a point, as usual and I looked over at Darcy to see him balancing on his heels.

"So have you thought of a way to save your friends?"

I shook my head not trusting myself to give a verbal reply in case something stupid came out.

Throughout my 'journey' of 'after escaping' I encountered a new face and her name was Brooke Apolskis. She was David Apolskis, another escapee's feisty sister who wasn't easily intimidated. Her sharp tongue and fast actions helped them escape numerous times however worked against her when they were captured. In the papers it said that she escaped but was recaptured two weeks later when I was travelling through Orange. I haven't heard much from David's side except that he was awaiting trial and was most-likely going back to Fox River or another maximum security prison.

Then there was Tamara – my girlfriend. Yes girlfriend, who I sort of forgot about during the three years of incarceration in the penitentiary – kinda until I was hospitalized and needed a blood transfusion, she came right back into my life. She helped with the escape alongside my brother Chris when I was recaptured right at the prison, then Tamara disappeared after that. I dreamt of her a couple of times, then saw her when I decided to do something risky and visited my cousin Liam; at least I think that was her. It got complicated after words I have to admit, with Mahone trying to frustrate me by telling me she was dead while my conscious claimed she was alive – I'm not crazy. Finally I learned from Mahone that Tamara was living in New York and safe and sound.

"I haven't," I honestly responded.

"Well I'm sure you'll come up with something," Darcy said stretching.

I nodded listening as more thunderclouds rolled into the city. Darcy glanced up at the sky and looked at me.

"It's alright."

Darcy lived somewhere else, a couple blocks away I was actually lucky that would come and visit me or that he didn't tip off the police in exchange for a life changing reward.

"I'll see you later," Darcy said nodding his good-bye. I nodded back thanking him silently. Watching him jog off I wished that it was that easy to run, to just go without a second thought but even with the minor details of my facial change it was too risky. All it took was someone to point and shout. I thought back to the black jeep that has been following me everywhere and I couldn't help but think about what my conscious told me: the Company.

It's possible.

I'm pretty sure that they would've made their move already.

And what would the point of that be?

Capture.

Perhaps that's not what they intention is.

Then what?

Recruitment.

I couldn't help but give a slight shutter, why would they want to recruit someone like me? There was nothing special about me, just an ordinary escapee who had been running for over two months now avoiding as many authorities as humanly possible while failing most of the way. However I did find it strange, I had seen the van numerous times before just following me not doing anything exciting but drive slowly down the previous alleyway I was at. Was it recruitment? What use was I to anyone?

A crack of silver lightning streaked through the grey fluffs, a rumble of thunder echoed in response. I drew the windbreaker close to my skin despite the humidity, feeling trails of sweat roll down my back and absorbed into the coats material. Finally I gave a low sigh not bothering to rub the grit out of my eyes and slept.