I Don't Seem To Know Anything, Anymore

Yay, new story! As a busy doctor at a busy hospital, Sara Tancredi encountered several dozen patients each and every day. One of those patients is about to change her life… again. Set in the future. Kind of your run-of-the-mill MiSa fic, but hopefully its a little different than most. As always, reviews are always welcome.

Rating: K+ for now. May change.

Disclaimer: If I owned Prison Break, believe you me, there would not be a two week break between episodes. :(

Chapter 1: But I Know You're So Much More

The hospital had only been open for a few months since its remodeling, which had left it with a modern if slightly detached feeling. Several hundred patients passed through its automatic doors each and every day. Some came because of its widely renowned medical teams, its state-of-the-art equipment, or its cutting-edge procedures and treatments. Others came because it was convenient, whether in cars driven by loved ones or in ambulances, racing against time to get victims helped before it was too late.

He arrived in an ambulance.

Sara Tancredi first got wind of the possibility that he was here through the grapevine. The hospital staff was notorious for their gossiping habits, and nothing of interest ever went down without the entire floor knowing about it. According to an intern, who had heard it from a nurse, who had it on good word from a well-informed patient, he had been brought in by paramedics at a little after nine in the morning, roughly an hour before Sara's shift commenced. By the time she got word of his supposed presence, he was in surgery. It wasn't clear what exactly was allegedly wrong with him, but apparently (so said the intern), it was serious. Serious enough, it seemed, that the staff had more than a little difficulty staying focused that morning. After all, it wasn't common for celebrities to step into (or in this case, be wheeled into) their domain.

Sara rapped her knuckles firmly on the door of the Head of her department, Dr. Phoebe Carrol. "Enter." Came the reply. Sara stepped into the woman's office immediately, shutting the door softly behind her. "Dr. Tancredi. What can I do for you today?"

She shrugged in response, as though this was sheerly a social call. In general, Sara got along with those she worked with, and Dr. Carrol was no exception. They were her associates, not her friends, but that was Sara's choice, not theirs. Since coming here, she had kept herself at a distance, allowing precious few to get close to her. Being so detached from others perhaps kept Sara from making professional advances as quickly as she otherwise could have, but that was all right with her. She liked where she was, and at this point in her life, it was easier for her to keep others at arms' length.

"Come on, Tancredi. You know as well as I do that no one comes in here without a game plan and a goal." Carrol stated wryly, still filling out paperwork.

Sara permitted herself a small smile. She admired the other woman's ability to see through others. "I'm assuming you heard about the… special case that arrived this morning?"

"I've heard the rumors." Dr. Carrol responded, setting her pen down. "I find it hard to believe that anyone in this building hasn't."

"Is there any truth to them?" Sara wanted to know immediately. If anyone knew for sure, it would be Carrol.

"We're waiting for confirmation, but there's a fair chance it is. Why do you ask?"

"I was actually wondering if I could be reassigned to it."

Dr. Carrol laughed kindly for a moment. "Every doctor of every rank has been in here today already, all of them wanting the same thing." She paused. "Quite frankly, I'm surprised you weren't here sooner. Given your dedication to your work." It was common knowledge that Sara spent almost all of her time working, or doing something work-related, rather than doing other things, such as spending time with a husband, fiancé, or steady boyfriend. She had some friends here, amongst the staff, but none outside of the hospital, and hadn't been in a serious relationship since… well, for a long time.

"I had some other patients to attend to first. But I'm here now."

"I don't want you to take this personally, Dr. Tancredi, but I'm going to tell you the same thing I told all the others: we have a system in place, to best help the patients. All of our doctors are perfectly qualified. Whoever his doctors are, are who they will remain." Carrol paused again. "And you were involved in all that confusion a couple years ago..."

Sara didn't immediately reply. For a moment, she was lost in a flurry of memories that had suddenly come flooding back, of everything that had happened in that year. Things had been going well. They were beating the conspiracy at its own game. And then suddenly, everything fell apart. Sara had lost touch with the brothers. She knew that there'd been police, and gunshots, but the rest of the details were a little fuzzy in Sara's memory because of the Post-Traumatic Stress syndrome she'd suffered from after the ordeal, although she knew that she had wound up in a hospital somewhere. Upon returning home, she'd struggled a great deal to get her life back on track. When everything regarding the escape and the ensuing events was resolved, Sara had finally completed her rehab and applied for a job at St. Joseph's. She'd gotten it (and tried very hard to pretend that it wasn't just because of her public role in the exposure of the Company), and hadn't spoken to any of the remaining Fox River 8 since. Old healed wounds, external and internal, tangible and intangible, now ached in remembrance.

"Dr. Tancredi?" Carrol's voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"No. I mean yes. Yes, I was involved." Sara spoke finally. Dr. Carrol looked at her for a long moment, presumably weighing her options. A glimmer of hope arose in Sara as she waited. Maybe Carrol would let her in after all, before-

"No, definitely not. We abide by a policy, that as doctors, we do not treat family members, and we do not treat friends."

"He's not family, and after two years of no contact, he can hardly be considered a friend." Sara asserted.

For a moment, neither spoke. Carrol broke the silence. "Dr. Tancredi, as your employer, when I hired you, I did a bit of research. While no one except the two of you knows exactly what happened between you and Mr. Scoffield, and how that impacted… things, I think it's perfectly clear that something did, and I can't afford to have any case, but especially this one, being such a high profile case, jeopardized because of something that happened two and a half years ago. You've proven yourself to be a valuable asset to our team since then, and I understand why you more so than others would have a motive to want to be in on this, but you know as well as anyone how capable our doctors are. They can handle it." She paused, and removed her glasses. "And as someone who has known you for two years, who followed the news and had a front row seat to you getting your life back together, I think that it's better for you if you remained entirely uninvolved in this. Again, I don't know what happened, but I don't know that you can handle this. You just got back on track, don't risk messing it up again."

"Excuse me, but, um, are you saying I can't handle this?" Sara asked, a little hurt.

"You are one of the strongest people I've ever met, Sara. But you've been through a hell of a lot because of him, and I would think that this would be more than anyone could take." Dr. Carrol replied, a kind smile on her face.

Sara nodded slowly, thinking over what the other woman had said. She was no longer insulted by this; after all, she knew that Carrol had just been saying what she felt. "I understand. Thank you for your time, Dr. Carrol."

"It's no trouble. And Sara," Dr. Carrol paused, as Sara turned to leave. "It truly is nothing personal."

"I know." With that, Sara exited the office. It had been a rather unreasonable request anyway. She strode slowly away, going to tend to other patients, people she could help.

According to a surgical nurse, the surgery had taken nearly eight hours. He was still in the ICU, although stable. Sara had been on her way out, having swapped her professional clothes and white coat for jeans, a plain blue shirt, and a dark wool jacket to counteract the frosty February weather, when she saw two doctors exiting the room that (rumor had it) was his. She stopped, and watched the doctors saunter away from his room and towards the nurses' station. No doubt they were off to brag about landing such a desired case. Maybe just one look, really quickly, Sara reasoned. It might not even be him. Carrol wasn't even sure yet, and I haven't heard anything new. I'll sleep a lot better tonight knowing one way or another.

Having convinced herself, Sara's curiosity got the better of her and she made her way away from the doors to the outside world and towards the room. Although not outright sneaking, she tried to avoid drawing attention to herself. Especially considering the fact that Carrol had explicitly told her not to go near him, it would not go well for Sara if she were seen. Her civilian clothes should have given her away like a sore thumb in the Intensive Care Unit, considering the fact that visiting hours had ended hours ago, but fortunately for Sara, the floor was nearly deserted at this time of night. The vast majority of the staff had gone home for the day, leaving behind an area void of people except for the nurses and occasional doctor, all of whom were too absorbed in their own work to notice the woman who was trying very hard to look as though she belonged.

Sara hesitated outside of his door, trying to envision what she might find behind it. According to the rumors, there had been a car accident, but her profession had ingrained in her that the severity of car accidents varied greatly. He might be completely fine, aside from a little bit of internal bleeding which the surgery would have repaired, or he might be inches from death, his body so traumatized by the experience that he couldn't carry on much longer. She knew, especially if it was the latter, that he might not look like himself, might not be himself. For a moment, Sara didn't think she could handle entering. A few shaky breaths and a mental pep talk later however, she twisted the handle and bravely opened the door.

As the door quietly shut, Sara's eyes sought his face first. It was battered, certainly; bruised and swollen and scraped up, but nothing that time couldn't fix. A plain white cast occupied his left wrist. His head had been recently shaved to make way for the large bandage currently adhered to the back of his head. She noticed that there were numerous machines; so many machines attached to one person was generally never a good sign. The machines monitoring his vital signs beeped rhythmically, the only sounds except for a thin, raspy sound that could only be the sound of air entering and exiting his lungs. This one alerted the world that his heart, although beating slowly, was still beating while another recorded every shallow breath he drew.

She stared at him for several long, painful minutes, as though paralyzed and unable to move, unable to stand the knowledge of how much hurt this must (or would) be causing him. He wasn't awake yet, and for that she was grateful. His unconscious state meant that he felt no pain. Not yet, anyway. She was valiantly fighting tears now, as her hand found his hand. She laced her fingers delicately through his. Sara wasn't sure if it was more for his comfort or for hers; for a moment, she lost herself in a horrible daydream as she envisioned just how this had happened. A few rogue tears made their way down her face, and a nauseous feeling welled up in her stomach as Sara silently and desperately tried to absorb all of this.

It was so strange for her to see him like this. Lying there on the hospital bed he looked so weak, so broken. So vulnerable. Not moving. Barely breathing, barely living. Not himself. Sara's heart insisted that this damaged man couldn't be him, but her brain proclaimed the opposite.

Oh, Michael, what have you gotten yourself into?

Please review!