This fanfic is loosely based on the events in Season 4 of Prison Break. The last card needed to access SYLLA turns out to be with a newly introduced character. And Roland has yet to meet his demise.

Warnings for violence and sexually mature scenes between two guys.

Bait: Part 1

"So, where's the next card?" Brad Bellick asked the rag-tag group of men – and one woman – who were gathered around their little makeshift command table. The wood laminate table was buried under piles of folders, loose pieces of paper, and a bunch of fast food scraps that had passed off as last night's dinner.

Their covert group's impromptu leader – Michael Scofield – was hovering behind the hacker that Agent Don Self had dumped on them. While it was true that none of the team had any experience with hacking, there were times that they all thought Roland was more of a burden to the team than an asset. Even with Roland's impressive computer skills, getting him to focus and stay on track was worse than babysitting a whiney two-year-old.

"This is it," Roland finally answered, pointing at the information that he'd fished out of The Company's database. He spun the laptop around so that everyone could see the dossier on a Mr. Lawrence T. Jones.

Michael hid his annoyance at Roland, knowing that the young punk had removed the computer screen from his field of view on purpose. Apparently Roland still thought that they were playing a game and he was winning. Casually moving back to the other side of the table and away from Roland, Michael began to read off the scandalous details of Jones' life. "Lawrence T. Jones. Fifty-eight years old, six-foot-two, one-hundred and ninety pounds. Lives in Ohio, but - like the other cardholders -he's in town for the next couple of days on business. He's currently staying at the Hilton Hotel, at The Company's expense and…" Michael frowned at the last piece of information.

"What?" Lincoln Burrows demanded to know, staring at his younger brother impassively. "Just read the rest so we can get on with it already."

"He's been tried for two counts of murder, five counts of sexual assault, and multiple counts of assault with a deadly weapon, but he's never been convicted." "

"So he's dangerous and knows how to bend the law."

"Probably," Michael answered Lincoln, although he knew that his brother hadn't phrased it as a question. "And the only time he spends away from his hotel room is when he's frequenting Unchained."

"Unchained?" Alex Mahone repeated from where he was leaning against the wall, arms folded in front of his chest. His standoffish body language was having the desired effect because no other member of the team wanted to be anywhere near him. It wasn't that Alex had done anything to offend anyone – recently. It was that nobody knew what to say to a man whose son had just been murdered, and disappeared at random times in the day to deal with his grief. "What is that? A karaoke bar?"

"Unfortunately, no. It's a gay nightclub."

Almost immediately, Sucre backed away from the table with his hands held out in defense. "No way am I pretending to be gay again," he protested. "Last time I got lucky, but I ain't doing it again."

"You won't have to," Michael sighed in exasperation. "This man has a type and you're not it." He leaned in closer and scrolled down to scan through the number of men that Jones had been associated with. "He usually goes for tall, slim, blue-eyed men."

"You fit the bill on that one, Scofield," Brad chuckled.

Michael gave Brad a dirty look and continued. "With thick brown hair."

Alex uncomfortably dropped his gaze when he felt the weight of the room on him. "No way," he muttered dismissively. "You couldn't pay me to sit at that pig's table," he said a bit more forcefully, indicating the profile picture of Jones at the top of the computer screen with a nod of his head.

"You're the only one who fits the description perfectly," Sara countered. "And I think it's rather sexist for you guys to get so upset over a few harmless moments of flirtation. How many times did I have to throw myself at some dirty old man? I didn't hear any of you complaining about what I went through."

"Actually, I complained quite a lot," Michael reminded Sara.

"There's a big difference between you and I," Alex shot back, beginning to fidget like he had the habit of doing nowadays when he was nervous. Since he'd overcome his addiction to Veratril there was very little that could naturally calm Alex's nerves. He secretly suffered from anxiety attacks, even after the withdrawal symptoms had dissipated, and was left with no choice but to conceal them from the team. At the moment, he was having a very hard time keeping his hands still. "Sara, you've had a lot of practice at seducing men because you've actually been with men. I haven't. This Jones guy is going to take one look at me and know I don't swing that way."

"Actually, I can't tell which way you swing from over here," Brad quipped.

"Then we'll just have to make it look like you do." Sara talked over Brad, hoping that this wouldn't end up in a brawl over Alex's sexual orientation. She agreed with Michael that they didn't have any other options. Sucre was happy that it wasn't his ass on the line this time. And judging by Brad's flippant remarks, he couldn't have cared either way. Roland had been told on numerous occasions to keep his mouth shut, so he kept his opinions to himself. That only left Lincoln and his dead cold stare, which did nothing in Alex's favor.

"You only need to be close to him for five minutes, maybe less," Michael said calmly, rationally. "No one is asking you to hold his hand or go back to his room."

"Well, isn't that a relief," Alex said sarcastically.

"Look, are you going to do it or not?"

"Do I have a choice?" Alex tried not to visibly let his shoulders slump as Sara motioned for him to follow her into one of the back rooms in the warehouse. He didn't want to let the others see just how uncomfortable the thought of cozying up to Jones was making him feel.

Nearly half an hour later, Sara returned to the open area of the warehouse followed by a very unhappy looking Alex. It looked like Sara had grown up torturing Barbie and then turned her attention, and poorly acquired skills, on poor Alex. She'd fluffed up Alex's hair so that it caught the light and looked a lighter brown on top. His skin was paler looking than usual, except for his high cheekbones that were streaked with a dark pinkish blush. Just in case Jones was in need of glasses, Sara had outlined Alex's blue eyes with a Kohl eyeliner, drawing the eye to what was perhaps Alex's best feature. And then she'd gone and selected a pair of tight jeans and a black, form-fitting t-shirt for Alex to wear. Alex rarely wore jeans and had never had a problem buying shirts too small, so he looked uncharacteristically lacking confidence in his extra snug attire.

Upon catching sight of Alex, Brad snickered and Sucre burst out into uncontrollable laughter.

"Maybe we should call you Alice Mahone," Brad taunted, whistling crudely at Alex.

Lincoln, who had appeared disinterested up until that point, suddenly charged forward. "No way!" He spat out in disgust, grabbing hold of the chains around Alex's neck and trying to pull them off. "There's no way in hell he's going in there dressed like this!"

"Hey!" Alex tried to push Lincoln away, fearing that he might get chain burns around his neck if Lincoln kept pulling like that.

"Linc, he's going into a gay club, not a five-star restaurant." Michael didn't know why Lincoln had suddenly gone into one of his sour mood swings. Although Lincoln had a short temper and was a raging powerhouse when he wanted to be, he usually had a pretty thick skin. So, seeing him seething over Alex's outfit and accessories left Michael feeling confused and at a loss.

Lincoln released the chains to turn on Michael. "He doesn't have to go in there looking like a slut." An uncomfortable tension filled the room after Lincoln's outburst. Alex was the only one who looked relieved when Lincoln reached for the chains again, unlatched them and flung them onto the table.

"Okay then, no necklaces." Michael cleared his throat to try and draw his teammates back to the task at hand. "Alex, you'll need to get close enough with the device for Roland to begin downloading the contents of Jones' card. You'll need to stay in contact for at least five minutes. Think you can do that?"

"He's not going in there alone," Lincoln interrupted again.

"You don't trust me, Lincoln?" Alex challenged, resisting the urge to rub at the Kohl that seemed to be irritating his eyes.

"It's not you that I don't trust." Lincoln would not elaborate on why he was against the idea of Alex going in alone. It would be preferable if Alex didn't go in at all, but he knew that arguing about it would cause dissent in the team. He knew that the others wouldn't understand because they hadn't overheard the pain and despair in Alex's voice over the death of his son. Lincoln had been the one who found Alex in the storage room, broken up and sobbing over his loss. He was also probably the only one who had noticed Alex's recent weight loss and constant fidgeting. Alex was in no shape to be taking on a sadistic monster like Jones. And the worst part was that Lincoln could see a man like Jones taking a liking to Alex and turning the tables on him.

"Linc, there's nothing in Jones' file about big, beefy men with shaved heads," Michael said in frustration.

"Who the hell said that I wanted to play that part?" Lincoln glared at Michael. "I'll go in with Alex and stay as backup. It'll work better that way. Men like Jones always want what they can't have. Why not sweeten the pot a little?"

"You and Alex?" Sucre laughed again. "Yeah right! Nobody's gonna believe that for a second."

"This is a one-man job, Linc. You're going to complicate things." Michael stood his ground against his older brother while Alex looked back and forth between them with interest.

"Would you let Sara do it by herself?"

"No, but…"

"So it's decided." Lincoln dropped his large hand onto Alex's hip as if he were doing no more than slapping the ex FBI Agent on the back. "See, no big deal."

But Alex pulled away and shot Lincoln a wary look, trying to figure out what his game was.

Lincoln grabbed Alex again, this time securing his arm around the slimmer man's waist. "You do that in there and you'll get us both killed," he warned, ignoring Alex's startled yelp and Michael's look of disbelief. "Let's just get this over with."

Roland slid the electronic copying device and a listening device with the wire all tangled up to the other side of the table. "Don't know where you're gonna put them." Roland eyed Alex's tight jeans and ill-fitting t-shirt in obvious disgust.

"That's a good point. Where am I supposed to put them?"

"Sara, get Alex a jacket."

"One that doesn't look so flamboyant," Lincoln added, trading a challenging look with Michael.

Apparently, Self had never anticipated the need for any of their team members to pose as boy toys because Sara couldn't find anything that would go with Alex's outfit and not detract from the overall 'look'. She ended up loaning Alex her loose-knit, beige sweater – the one with the overly large pockets and long sleeves that she was always rolling up. It would get chilly at night, so Alex wouldn't look too out of place with it.

Once Alex had stuffed the electronic copying device in one of the sweater's pockets, balancing it out by filling the opposite one with a bunch of change, they were off.

Not sure if this was any good. But at least I got part of it out of my system. Please leave feedback if you want to read more! Thank you! ^_^