A/N: So, I have just binged watched Prison Break this weekend, for like the third time. Every time I do, I want to put my ideas on paper and get them out of my brain - but I never do. Until now.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I will enjoy bringing this story to life.

[M} This chapter is noted as M because it depicts an attempted suicide. Skip the fourth paragraph if you do not want to read it.

The bathroom was all set up. It was truly beautiful. The bath was running, bubbling up some scented concoction she'd bought from the market that morning. There were candles lining the tub and the small ledge that traced the room. Rose petals were scattered along the floor from her bedroom door all the way through to the ensuite meeting the edge of the bath, where a heart shape pattern was made with the remaining petals. She contemplated setting up the music too - but thought that was a bit too much, and she wouldn't have been able to decide which music best suited the special occasion.

She released her hair from the tight pony tail she'd made that morning, relishing in the feeling of the dark waterfall of tension flowing down her back. She instantly felt relaxed. It had been a long day, and she was almost anxious to know that it would soon end. A smile tugged at her plump lips, still masked with the dark lip stick she had worn to work. Her teeth found her bottom lip almost too delicious as she tugged at it with such force it began to bleed under the pressure. A moan escaped her mouth as she ran her tongue along the broken skin on her lip, enjoying the tang from the iron in the blood as it tantalised her taste buds.

Alas, she looked around the room and spun around inside the heart shape she'd made, dropping her night gown to reveal her naked body. She bent over slightly to turn off the tap, with her left hand, while dipping the finger tips of her right into the water. Almost scorching - a perfectly run bath. In under a minute she could be found body submerged in the water, her neck and head the only part of her body that remained above the bubbles. And there she lay for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of the water also burning her skin.

It was at that moment she sighed, realising the perfect music she could have put on for the occasion - but laziness took over and she decided that silence was just as fitting. She raised her right hand from under the water to reveal the small razor blade that she had picked up from the drug store that afternoon. Humming her chosen tune, she slowly embedded the blade into her left arm, staring and the wrist, and pushed with all her might, fighting the natural reflex to stop. Once she reached her elbow, she switched hands and mirrored the cut on her right arm, struggling more so now from the pain and her lack of ambidextrous abilities. But against all odds, she completed her task, the blade finally dropping from her shaking hand into the water, slowly turning pink from the pouring blood as she submerged her arms below the scorching water and closed her eyes, waiting for the eternal rest to take her.

He was stood staring out of the window of Field Office, glancing out into the darkness his eyes fixated on the twinkling lights of the city that he could see on the horizon. That evening, Alexander Mahone had donned one of his many impeccable black suits, creased slightly under the pressure of his hands as they rested on his hips, just thinking. It was all that he could do right now. Think. And Scofield was proving to be an interesting candidate to occupy his mind.

Almost two days had passed since the inmates had escaped from Fox River, and he had already lost them once. He felt as if he'd had had Scofield in his grasp but he just slipped through his fingertips. He wouldn't too far off saying that he kind of admired the man, who seemed to have the plan - but not enough to admit defeat. Mahone knew that the answer was in those tattoos. They would tell him everything about where Michael and the others are going, and he would be there waiting for them when they get there.

"E. Chance Woods" He mused to himself, a small, humourless laugh slipping out after his words. He pinched his nose and let out a sign as he tried to shake off the headache that was threatening to take over. He closed his eyes as he released the pressure he was placing on his nose and opted for the only other option he had - the secrets held within the body of his favourite pen. He quickly unscrewed the fountain pen, revealing his release. Instant gratification came from feeling the little blue pill on his tongue, and just In time too.

"You've got to see this" Lang's voice was almost too happy for Mahone to accept, peering over his glasses towards the woman that stood giddily at the door of his office. He raised an eyebrow at her, too immersed in his own thoughts and theories to really comprehend the situation, he allowed her to come into his office anyway, thinking he could give his brain a break for a moment to listen to what she had to say.

"I'm waiting" He finally spoke, pulling his glasses off his nose and throwing them atop the stack of files he'd been reviewing just moments before. Despite his words, she seemed almost reluctant to enter the office. He burrowed his brow and impatiently motioned her in. He was willing to give it a quick look, but her hesitation was eating precious time "come on come on" He spoke impatiently, leaning against the window sill, his hand outstretched to receive the file.

Lang jumped in and handed the file over to her supervisor with a little too much enthusiasm "Our intelligence guys just uncovered this piece of information" She began to explain, as he opened up the file to reveal a single piece of paper "We think it's an interesting lead and…" She kept talking, but he wasn't paying much attention to her as he was engrossed in reading the information she had provided. "It was previously unknown, no link was ever establishes before - we don't know how viable it is but -"

"This" He began, closing the file. "This Is the very reason I hired you Lang" He jumped up grabbing his coat and left the office without another word, leaving a very satisfied Leticia Lang alone in his office, feeling very proud of herself.

"5551 North Linder Ave" He found himself muttering for the umpteenth time as he drove around Chicago. He was growing increasingly accustomed to driving around and finding all sorts of short cuts to get to his desired destination in the nick of time. The residence of the individual depicted on that one sheet of paper was almost imprinted on his memory. As he drove around the Jefferson park area, he wasn't surprised to see that he wasn't all that far from Scofield's place of residence. He smiled briefly as he pulled up at his destination, removing his sun glasses and jumping out the car, checking his gun was by his side. He could never be too careful.

He jumped the stairs to the apartment two by two and made his way to the door, the numbers 5551 in silver, gleaming as if they had just been polished. It wasn't the only thing he noticed. The door was left ajar. He immediately reached for his side arm, leaning against the wall, pushing the door open carefully, before craning his neck to look inside.

"Miss Jones?" He called out, looking straight ahead into the darkness. He could see nothing, hear nothing. Alex stepped around the threshold and entered the residence, pushing the door fully open, shedding the small amount of light that was shining from the wall lamp outside into the residence. As his feet made contact with the inside of the apartment, he finally noticed the a couple of rose petals on the floor. He raised a curious eyebrow and continued into the apartment, gun raised in front of him, listening.

"Nicole Jones?" He called again, making his way into the room that met the end of the corridor. He stopped for a moment, trying to listen out for any signs of movement, but he heard nothing. He already feared the worst. It wasn't because he was simply a cynic - his most recent experiences plagued his everyday thoughts. "FBI!" He added, moving his hand up the wall until he found the light switch. Sure, he knew that changing anything would potentially compromise the forensic investigation, but he didn't care about that - he had to get things done now.

Alex let his eyes adjust to the light and as he did, his eyes focused on the pristine living room that belonged to his person of interest. A large L shaped sofa could be found in the centre of the large, open plan room that was akin to something one would find in a property brochure. He didn't release his firearm as he stepped around the furniture, moving towards the centre of the room. He stopped beside a coffee table, where a set of magazines were stacked perfectly, all with that days date. Curious, he thought as he took a moment to fully take in his surroundings.

Before him was a kitchen that seemed to never have been used. Not a spec of dust to dirt to be seen - no dirty dishes, or clean ones on the draining board. To his left were the doors to the balcony, the glass so clean he had to look twice to ensure that the doors were not simply frames that lead to the outside world. And to his right, two doors. He stepped carefully towards the door furthest away from him, listening closely before he opened the door quickly, pointing his gun into the room. He flicked the switch to reveal an office, as pristine as the living room, with a small sofa in the corner.

"So strange" He muttered. There was nothing out of place, nothing at all, he thought, as he stepped back out of the office and turned to the only other shut door in the apartment. Nothing accept the rose petals, which curiously appeared in abundance as he opened the door to what he could only deduce was the bedroom. It was here that the darkness was already broken by the faint rays of light dancing behind the closed door at the far side of the large bedroom, a sight he would soon realise belonged to the candles that were set up around the room.

"Nicole? It's the FBI, I'm just hear to ask you some questions" He spoke, still on edge, moving towards the ensuite on the other side of the bedroom. Nobody answered and his earlier suspicions arose once more. "Nicole?" He spoke once more, stepping over the blood red rose petals that guided him to the doorway. Slowly, he turned the handle on the door and pushed the door open, the dimming light of the candles flooding into the bedroom.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

"Jesus" Alex's eyes widened at the gruesome sight, re-sheathing his weapon swiftly before diving both arms into the bath, pulling the lifeless body of the woman out of the water and into his body. He fell back under the dead weight, holding the woman tight in his lap as he checked her pulse. It was dull but still existent - just. He reached for his cell and called an ambulance.

"You will not die" He ordered, reached behind him to grab the night robe that was on the floor, ripping it in two with his teeth and wrapping it tightly around her wounds. "You will not die!" He repeated, pulling his jacked off, and enveloping her body to keep her warm. "You will not die!"

The management of patients who have made suicide attempts is a responsibility that frequently falls to the primary care physician. For this reason, it is important that the physician have a clear strategy for dealing with the suicidal patient, especially when they are first admitted to hospital. In the acute situation, the first priority is to stabilise the patient and ensure his or her medical safety. Once this is accomplished, history and circumstances of the attempt can be assessed, along with likelihood of recurrence of the attempt.

"Are you family?" The doctor asked for the third time, trying to assess the situation with impatience in his voice, watching the man before him lace his fingers and rest them behind his neck. He was doubled over himself, sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room, looking down at the floor.

"No" Alex finally replied, without looking up at the doctor "As I said before, I'm FBI" His voice was tired and irritated. He didn't have time to be dabbling in the protocols of any physician right now - nor did he really have time to waste on the suicide victim in surgery. "I went to question Miss Jones and found her - " He blinked quickly to stop the images of the discovery settling in his mind once again. He was growing nervous and restless. He needed his pills - but he'd stupidly left his jacket on the body of the woman as they carted her from the ambulance into A&E.

"Well, from what I tell, it's lucky you were there. A couple of minutes later and she wouldn't have been so lucky" The doctor added, noting something down on the file he had in his hands "She'll be out of surgery soon, then on 24 hour watch. Would you like me to call you a cab?" he spoke, closing the file with a smile on his young face.

Alex looked up at the doctor and cocked his eyebrow at his chipper tone. "No thanks" He spoke, ironically, a small, faux smile glazing over his lips. "I'll be just fine"

"Good. Because you know - only family can be here when she comes out" Alex opened his mouth to argue, to try and pull rank, to ask whether the doctor wanted to be arrested for potentially getting in the way of a federal investigation, but the withdrawal was beginning to take hold and he couldn't bring himself to enter the argument.

"Fine" He spat, the sweat beginning to trickle down his temples "I need m-m- my jacket" He insisted, standing up, placing his hands firmly on his hips, revealing the blood stains on his tailor fitted white shirt.

The doctor looked him over, amusement dancing behind his eyes. "Of course sir." He spoke politely, in a tone that both confused and put Mahone on edge, especially when it was accompanied by some sort of knowing look. He did not have much time to dwell on it, before his cell rang in his back pocket.

"Mahone" He spoke, racking his free hand through his hair. It was Lang - of course. She was a good agent, but she seemed to always call when he least had the energy to deal with anything that she had to say. Take away the fact he was more concerned with the blue pill than anything else at the moment, it was almost 10 pm.

"Where are you?" She asked, bluntly.

"Hospital" He responded, too tired to lie.

"Oh god, are you ok? Do you need- "

"I'm fine" He breathed "Jones decided to play doctor with a razor blade" He buried his face in his free hand now "What you got for me?" He asked, hoping she'd cut to the chase quick.

"It's LJs hearing tomorrow afternoon" He stopped rubbing his face and stood dead still.

"Are you sure about this?" His mind was racing. This might be their opening.

"As sure as sure can be, sir" She spoke.

"I want any phone calls to that boy recorded and sent to me as it bloody happens" It took all his will power to pull himself together and not raise his voice. Shouting in the waiting room was not going to help. "And schedule a meeting with him before the hearing. I wanna get to him before anyone else does"

"Yes sir. Anything else?"

Alex decided that he'd wait for his jacket sat down, fearing his legs wouldn't take his weight much longer. He glanced around towards where he'd seen the doctor leave, towards the surgery area. It was then he caught a glimpse of the doctor, engaging animatedly in conversation with a dark haired man, sun glasses covering his eyes. Alex stood once more, to get a better look at him, his sharp suit out of place in the emergency room of a hospital.

"Sir?" Lang pushed.

"Yeah." He replied shortly, his eyes not ripping away from the suited man. "Cover for me tomorrow morning"

"Sir, what - ?" He hung up, and pocket the cell phone, watching the two men with beady eyes.

It's hadn't been too long ago that he had been approached by a man that looked very similar to the suited gentleman. It was then that he'd been assigned to the Fox River 8 case and given his specific set of instructions. It wouldn't be too far fetched to believe that this gentleman was on their payroll - but as he began to walk towards the door, the suited man turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway. When he could no longer see the suited man, his eyes turned to the doctor, looking visibly shaken. He took a couple of deep breaths before looking up, seeing Mahone through the glass in the doors and rushing towards him.

"I apologise" He spoke quickly, the doors swinging behind him. He extended the previously requested jacket towards him

"How long until she is out of surgery?" Mahone asked, donning the jacket, surreptitiously checking his pocket for his pen. It was there. He felt his body relax knowing he was just moments away from getting his fix.

"She'll be in recovery within the hour, but as I said, only family - "

"She's a person of interest in a Federal investigation" he spoke, finally finding his attitude, pulling at the front of his jacket He sniffed and wiped his nose, stepping towards the doctor, placing a hand on his shoulder. With a small squeeze her shot a knowing smile to the man. "So, I will be seeing you in a couple of hours then"

He left the doctor in the waiting room, making his way directly outside the hospital and to a blind spot at the end of the building, pulling out the pen and calming his nerves with the feeling of that pill entering his system. There was something wrong with this entire situation, and he felt a slight pang of guilt for leaving the woman alone in the hospital while he felt like the claws of the conspiracy were closing in on her - but he needed rest.

Alex took a moment to gain his composure. He leant against the hospital building, his hands on his knees as he hoped the urge to empty the contents of his stomach would pass. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, Alex felt the sedative take effect and he finally felt like himself again.

He stood up tall and fumbled in his pockets to find his sunglasses, which he put on. As he began to walk towards the car park, Alex reached for his cell and dialled a number he only had the courage to call when he was most desperate for a boost of motivation to continue. He only hoped that she would pick up.

The site of the suited man brought it all home, he felt slight fear and curiosity as to why a member of The Company would be coercing with the doctor. He knew that they would be keeping tabs on him, but not in every aspect of the investigation, surely. He was doing exactly as they had asked. He'd only been on the case for less than 48 hours. Were they already unhappy with his results. What was happening?

"Pam?" His felt tingles all through his body as his train of thought came to a halt "It's so good to hear your voice" He spoke, flagging down a cab, but the tingles soon stopped, as he realised he was talking to the voicemail recording his ex-wife had recorded. Defeated, he snapped the cell shut and jumped in the back of the cab. Destination: home. Status: Alone, drowning in his own thoughts.

"I can't believe she's dead" Lincoln sat at the edge of the hideout, his fists formed at his side. It was not only terrible to know that the only woman he had truly loved was dead, or that she had died specifically for him, but to hear her speak with such hope, only to have it literally shot away was almost too much to bear.

What was it she had said? Steadman was alive? What did that mean? If he was alive, then who was in the car? Why would they set him up for a false death? What was going on?

Lincoln brought his fists up about a foot off the ground, then hit down will all of his might. The whole situation just didn't make sense. What did he have to do with all of this? Why him? And more importantly, how was he going to get the ones his loved out of this mess.

"We have a problem" Michael appeared stood next to him. He'd left a few hours ago to 'run some errands' and Lincoln hadn't even bothered asking where he was going - He trusted Michael was doing what was necessary to get them to safety, and had defended that fact when the others had jumped up in arms about the fact that he was off on another secret mission without filling them in. He'd done them no wrong up until now, and he was sure he wouldn't be doing anything reckless to jeopardise the plan - they'd come too far, and Lincoln wondered whether they'd be able to ditch those untrustworthy humans soon.

"Another one?" Lincoln spoke calmly, wiping a lone tear from his cheek before looking up to his younger brother. There were no words to describe how proud he really was on him and how grateful he was for everything he'd done for him "Abruzzi not playing nice?" He tried to hold on to some sort of humour, even though he was so mentally exhausted. Michael did not make any attempt to recognise the effort, stood staring out into nothing with that look on his face. "What is it?"

"It's Nicole" He revealed, finally turning towards him.

"What?" Lincoln's features filled to the brim with genuine surprise and worry. It had been a long time since he had heard her name, despite thinking about her all the time. Was she ok? Did they get to her too?

"I think something has happened to her" Michaels voice went extremely quiet and his eyes dropped to the floor.

"How can you know that?" Lincoln grabbed his brother by the shoulders "Do they have her? Is she even alive?"

"I don't know." Michaels voice was barely above a whisper. "She didn't check in like we planned - and I think…. I think…." There was tears in his eyes, and Lincoln's heart sank into his stomach.

Michael had been right. That really was a problem.

The sound of steady beeping was the only thing breaking the silence in the newly occupied recovery room on the second floor of the hospital. The brunette led immobile on the hospital bed, the view of her face obscured by tubes that ensured her recovery. She was not alone in the room, for another stood watching her, his breathing atune with the rhythm of the machines that were monitoring her vital signs.

It had been at least a year since Paul Kellerman last spoke with the woman before him, but he had to admit, she hadn't changed at all. Just as beautiful, and obviously just as reckless.

"Oh Nikki, Nikki, Nikki" The suited man spoke, moving a stray lock of her hair out of her face "It's not your time" He continued to speak, as if she could engage in conversation, taking a seat next to her. He pocketed his glasses, and took her hand in his own "We decide that, not you." He pat the top of her hand and pulled up the sleeve of her hospital gown to see the gauze that lined where he assumed she'd taken the blade to her skin.

"You really are too beautiful to bare scars" He ran his fingertips over the bandage "But I guess thats your own fault for being so stupid!" His voice was bitter now. He released her hand from his grip and leant back into the chair, eyes closed with his hands rubbing the frustration out of his face. When he cell rang, he didn't even have to look at the caller ID before answering.

"She's fine" He spoke, before the caller could say a thing.

"Good - make sure she stays that way"

"Will do" He spoke, a sense of pride welling up inside him

"Check on Tancredi, while you're there too"

"Yes ma'am"

"Oh and Paul, Veronica Donovan is dead"

Paul felt the irony in the comment cut deep in his heart. "That's a relief"

"Yes. Now, can I trust you to deal with this?" Her question was laced with hidden meanings he understood very well.

"Yes ma'am" His pride slightly more damaged than moments before.

"Good. Don't let me down"

The line went dead and a pit opened in Kellerman's stomach. He could not afford to let another one of these women better him and another pick up the pieces. He wouldn't let that happen.

"Now Nikki" He plastered a smile on his face as he arose from the chair and looked down as the unconscious woman "No more dates with razor blades, ok?" He leant over to whisper in her ear "You need to see this to the end and watch them burn, got it?" His smile was still settled on his lips as he donned his sun glasses once more, tugged at the end of his suit and made his way out of her room, to begin his next assignment. Get close to Tancredi and find Scofield.

He couldn't afford to fail - not again.