Silent drops of water fell on concrete. Soft noises sounded inside the pipes they were running through. The only other sounds were footsteps and gasping. Eight men were quickening their paces, underneath the prison, and eight hearts were beating in eight throats.

Sucre had asked Michael about it, once. Michael had been on his bed, waiting for sleep that wouldn't come anyway because he would be haunted by flashing images in front of his eyes, like they did every single night. He was afraid it wouldn't work out, that something would go wrong. When something went wrong, Lincoln would be lost. Lincoln was everything. So then there would be nothing left for him. He could see himself clearly already, every night, secretively cutting in body with a stolen knife, right through the tattoos, ripping through the plan that would have lost all of its meaning, through his body that would have lost all its meaning. He would slash hard, deep and with long cuts, so he would lose his consciousness quickly and all his blood with it. As soon as he got hold of a knife, he would do it.

How could he live in a prison where there is no hope? Why would he escape, when it would be without his brother? He could escape, of course, but aimless, and confused, and alone. And when he reached the place he wanted to be, the earth would fall away underneath his feet and he would break himself apart against the walls. He was sure he would. He knew he wasn't allowed to fail all this. He knew there was a big chance that he eventually would.

He told no one about his fears, not even his pillow. It existed only to be squeezed in the darkness, and to catch his nervous tears.

He had just dropped a few of them on his pillow when Sucre whispered to him that he had been thinking about the plan.

'Aren't there five minutes too many in there, when you calculate it all? Or did I do it wrong? Or is there a meaning behind these minutes?'

Michael had smiled silently. So that was what all these notes with numbers of Sucre had been about. He had been busy with them the whole afternoon.

'Yes, these are the five extra minutes I put in there. If something goes wrong, we will have some spare time. It also gives us time for me to close a door that's opened normally. I just don't know how long it will take to get there. When we're lucky though, we won't even need these five minutes.'

'Hmm. Alright,' Sucre said, sounding a bit confused. And then it was quiet.

Michael grinned between his sheets and imagined Lincoln, smiling, with eyes forever freed of all pain. For a moment, his own heart seemed to shine, and the vision helped him through another one of the countless nights.

Michael was running in front of the team and nothing escaped his sight. When the smallest little detail was missed, he could forget where he was. He had to watch where he was walking and that they wouldn't make too much noise.

Suddenly his heart stopped when he recognised the sideway he had to take. Was he ready? Was his courage big enough? A shot of adrenaline went through his body. He looked behind him, saw Linc, grabbed his wrist and dragged him along around the corner.

'You just walk on,' he said at the rest. 'I'll see you soon.'

The others obeyed, though it was a bit against their natures. But their wish to get out was to great to ignore at a moment like this. They knew where the had to be and had a reasonable trust in the idea of being together again.

Michael saw the last one running along – Westmoreland – and heard T-Bag mutter about Pretty's attitude, that had changed so much.

He walked a bit of the corridor with his brother. He looked him in his eyes and told him without words that he didn't know why he had to go here with him. Michael hadn't told him anything.

Shadows fell around them, nerves let hands shake and cheeks turn red. He had Lincoln where he wanted him to be. He had the guards where he wanted them to be. He had the team where he wanted them to be. He was the only one that was not completely in the right state of mind.

Linc looked above him, at the pipes at the walls, the pipes at the ceiling.

'Why did you take me here?' he asked softly. 'I don't get the feeling you need to be here at all, or do you?'

'I need to be here.'

'They won't find us here?'

Michael shook his head.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'I'm scared. It this part of your plan?'

'Yes.'

'Then why are we here?'

A painful silence. This should have been the moment. But he couldn't. He had to… He had to… Hurry up, Michael. Now or never. He took a deep breath and whispered: 'So that I could be alone with you for a while.'

Lincoln stared at him with a serious look. Michael didn't know what to say.

'Cause… Well, it's been so long… everything. And… Well…'

He looked at the ground for a moment, looked at the walls, bit his lip, watched his shoes. Then he jumped in Lincolns arms and squeezed him tightly, hid his face in his t-shirt, held him, trembling. Lincoln wrapped his arms around him, protecting him, his little brother. Michael lost himself in the ecstasy of the long – missed warmth and the calm, beating heart.

Linc sighed and stroked Michaels back softly. He could understand why. He could follow the thoughts of his little brother. Michael had been missing him. He wanted to hold him in his arms for a while to be sure it was really him. He wanted to touch him the way he had always done, in the old days. And even when everything did go wrong, he would have had these minutes to hold on to. Tears appeared in Lincolns eyes. 'Thank you,' he said in Michaels ear. 'You're an angel.' Then, he pressed a kiss on his ear. Michael shivered and tried to hide himself even further, as if he wanted to crawl inside of him.

'How much longer do we have, Mike?'

'Four more minutes,' it sounded, almost incomprehensible because Michael was hidden away so deeply. 'But please don't ask.'

They tried to get closer together, in vain. They pulled each other's clothes, tried every possible posture. Michael believed his heart was turning into a flame, a fire that was burning like mad and was even getting stronger in moments. Nobody would be able to understand this, nobody was ever to know the feeling he had for his brother, what kind of memories he kept only to himself, which images struck him down and which excited him.

He wanted more time. He never could have thought this would've been so hard. He wanted to stay. He had never kept this overdose of passion in mind when he was busy creating his plan. His mind started to spin when Linc kissed him tenderly. He wanted another kiss, and another one, and another one. He wanted skin to skin, heart to heart. Right now.

The concrete was as cold as a stone. Icy drops fell down in the narrow hallway. They fell in their necks, in their clothes.

'So, how are you now?' Linc said in his own, calm, interested way.

'Well…Alright I guess. Missing two left toes, that's all.'

'What? Why? How?'

'Abruzzi,' Michael said, knowing the name would explain everything.

'Does it hurt a lot?'

'Now and then.'

Lincoln sighed and stroked Michaels cheek softly. 'I knew prison wouldn't be a good thing for you. I was afraid it would break you. I was so worried about you, and for a reason, I see.'

He looked at him. 'Why did you have to do this? I can't be worth all this pain, can I? Five years, all the trouble you caused for yourself. Why? You'll end up just like me.'

'But I always wanted to be more like you,' Michael said with a small voice. 'Not that I wanted to have all your problems. But I wanted to be like you, so you would… like me more.'

He swallowed. He had never said that before, to anyone.

'But I've always liked you,' Linc said, not really understanding what Michael wanted to say.

'But I didn't know. And I had to come here. Because I wanted to take you with me. I wanted to free you, so we could figure out, together, what we were about to do. Because I wanted to be sure. Because… we've only had one day and… there was so much time in between after that. I got confused, didn't know what I wanted anymore, what you wanted. I wanted to be sure of what it meant. To you. And I wanted to have a second chance to win you for me.'

Blushing, he avoided Lincolns eyes when they tried to look at him. Quickly he hid himself by crawling further away in his arms.

'What it meant to me?' Linc asked him.

Michael nodded.

'Well… A lot. I've been thinking about it all this time. I even dreamt about it. Because that was the night I fell in love with you.'

Michael heart seemed to be smashed and heat spread itself to every part of his body, so strong he could hardly breathe. Everything was tickling. Everything was floating. He had been hoping for an answer like that. But he hadn't been prepared for it anyway.

'I've been thinking about you for so many times. I've wanted to tell you a hundred times, but there seemed to be too little time permanently, or I thought it wasn't the right moment for it. Now isn't a right moment either. But maybe we won't get any right moments after this.'

'If we're saying what we could never say anyway,' Michael said shyly, 'then I'm saying that I don't want to be your brother anymore. That I want to be your lover.'

'For real?' Linc whispered.

'…Yeah,' Michael said, so soft you could hardly hear him.

Lincoln held him a bit less close and Michael stared at him through his teary eyes. He was beaming as if someone had just asked him to marry him. And that was probably the way he felt right now.

'You're being serious, right?'

'Yes.'

Michael smiled while Linc almost crushed him in the firmest, longest hug he had ever had from him.

Frightened, he looked up when he heard voices and footsteps above their heads. 'Time's up,' he said hastily. 'We're out of here.'

Michael wanted to grab Lincolns wrist again to lead him to the place they needed to be. But Lincoln held his hand and pulled him close roughly, pressed his lips to his and started to kiss him. Michael was gasping, pressed to Lincs chest, and his heart beat in his throat. For a moment, he couldn't move, dizzy and in another world, but then reality struck him again and he freed himself from Lincolns grasp. 'If we don't leave now, we're done for, Linc.'

He reached for his hand and held him firmly when they started to run. Soon, they were nothing more than shadows that disappeared further and further, and the sounds of dripping water were the only ones left.