Disclaimer: I don't own Michael Scofield, Wentworth Miller, Dominic Purcell, or Prison Break, which is probably a good thing cuz I'd end up ruining it. For this I borrowed a lot of lines from the pilot.

Warning: Michael is Lincoln's son, and he is fourteen years old, it might be a bit farfetched.

I had this cool idea when I was daydreaming, well I thought it was cool anyway.

Obligations

Chapter 1: Michael Donovan

"You can conquer almost any fear if you will only make up your mind to do so. For remember, fear doesn't exist anywhere except in the mind." Dale Carnagie

Michael Donovan, fourteen years of age, couldn't believe he was about to do this. Man, his mom would kill him if she ever found out, as it was she thought he was at Tennis Camp. You see, Michael Donovan was about to get himself thrown into a Level One security prison, Fox River State Penitentiary, but he had a good, well, okay, reason.

Michael's father, Lincoln Burrows, who by the way didn't know he existed and his mom had told him about when he was ten, was on death row for killing the vice president's brother, Terrence Steadman. The case had been in court for two years now and they had decided on the death sentence a month ago and it was to take place two months from now.

Now Michael was a smart kid, after all, he'd graduated high school at eight and then college at twelve, he worked as a structural engineer for a very respected company, David's Design Firm, and he had followed the case, noting several inconsistencies such as the one's in the video that he'd quickly looked at while his mom had been in the room (she didn't want Lincoln to find out about him so he'd had to wait outside and amuse himself), like Steadman eye being high, as if he is purposefully looking at the camera, another being that after parking the car, Steadman just stays there, as if he was waiting for someone, and many others.

He'd planned a lot for this day, using a lot of his contacts (hey, being a genius pays off) to make a fake identity, which was backed up by records and people, then he'd had someone fashion him a synthetic mask, telling them to age his features. Last but not least he'd gotten the blueprints of the prison tattooed on his upper body (yep, he was so dead). So, Michael Scofield was officially eighteen years old, just old enough to get thrown into prison.

Taking a deep breath and calming his nerves, he reminded himself that this was the perfect day to do this. His mom and Sebastian (he was a really nice guy, he didn't mind that his fiancé came with a kid, and he loved Michael) were out of town, they had gone to Vegas for three days, so they couldn't come to the courthouse and somehow recognize him.

Gathering his courage, Michael Scofield opened the door to the bank and walked up to the counter, ignoring the multiple enraged shouts of, "Hey, you can't cut," which soon died out, when he pulled out a gun (it was loaded with blanks), and fired three shots into the air. He then pointed the gun at the clerk, "The vault. Open it."

The scared clerk, who is kneeling behind the counter, stammers out, "We can't. The branch manager's not here."

Looking around and still pointing the gun at the clerk, Michael asks, "Where is he?"

"Its lunchtime, he's at White Castle."

Surprised, Michael repeated, "White Castle?"

Looking at him like he's weird, she explains,"It's a fast food restaurant that serves those little square burgers."

Insulted, barely managing to keep the whine out of his voice, Michael said, "I know what it is!" He then fires two more rounds into the air, "I'm not playing games."

"Why don't I just give you the money in the register?" This came from another clerk, who was apparently even more scared than the first clerk. However before Michael can reply, he hears the familiar (from movies) wail of police sirens, then dropping the guns, he raises his hands up in the air. He then closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then opening then again, now slightly smiling, he turns around.

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Michael had been slightly scared that the fake identity wouldn't take in court, but he was extremely relieved when no one said anything about its validity. He was pulled out of his musings by his lawyer, the one the state had appointed to him, who was telling him to 'pay attention, this is important'.

He hears the judge say, "Rarely in the case of armed robbery do we hear a plea of no contest. Are you sure about this, Mr. Scofield?"

Sitting in his chair, Michael replied, "I'm sure your honor."

His lawyer, who looked a lot like his mother with, said, "Your Honor, we'd like to recess if we could, my client's a bit confused at the moment."

Before the judge could say something, Michael said, "I'm not, your Honor," causing his lawyer to look at him like he was crazy and say, "He is, your Honor." They were both now looking at each other.

Then the judge said, "Perhaps you should heed your representation's advice; take some time to consider your response."

Why was she taking pity on him because he was young, judges were only supposed to look at the facts, "I've already done that, your Honor." Michael looks at his lawyer, who looks confused, then looks back at the judge when she starts talking.

"I'll retire to my chambers to determine sentencing. Court's recessed until one thirty." Then people start to leave and Michael is cuffed and escorted out of the room.

His lawyer follows them all the way to the holding cell, Michael can't help, but think 'Golly Gee, woman, give it up!'

"Do you have any idea what you've done," man, she's already starting to lecture him, sounding more and more like his mom by the second, "You just put the book in the woman's hand and she'd going to lob it at you like a grenade. Justice and punishment are the same thing to her."

"I know," said Michael, he was thankful to her, she was trying to help him and he would've truly appreciated that if he wasn't trying to land in jail.

"Why won't you let me help you?" she implored, "You're just a kid."

"You've been really good to me, you have, but you've gotta let me deal with this my way."

That was when Bry, his best friend, who was eighteen years old, entered, "Can you leave us alone?" His lawyer just shook her head and left, maybe she'd finally given up.

Grabbing the bars and shaking his head, Bry said, "I can't believe you're doing this. This is without a doubt the dumbest, craziest thing you've ever done. And that's in a long storied career of dumb and crazy. And 'sides your mom's gonna kill us anyway, actually scratch that. Your mom's gonna torture us probably by telling by mom, who's gonna make us help pick her outfits for her show, then we've passed out from the pain of it, you're mom's gonna wake us up and kill us in the worst way possible…"

Michael interrupted him before he could get even more wound up, "No way, dude! Our mom's aren't even gonna find out, the plan's foolproof. As far as they know, we're at Tennis Camp and we've got the calls all figured out. Either of our mom's calls, Rudy transfers it to your phone, if it's your mom you just answer and if it's mine, you connect the phone to the laptop and just type in what you say in the software I bought, so it comes out like my voice.

Bry then asked, "What about when your face is all over the news, what then? And I still don't get why you're doing this and don't say that you owe him this much. Mike, you don't owe the idiot anything! He hasn't done anything for you, for fucks sake, Mike, he doesn't even know you exist!"

"If that happens my mom will probably call and you can just type a message convincing her that I'm at tennis camp. And I do owe him this Bry, I owe the dude because he's halfway responsible for my life and I have to repay that debt. Now quit freaking out!" Their conversation was interrupted by the Bailiff, who'd come to take Michael back to the court, "Hey, I gotta go. Bry, don't worry, it's gonna be okay."

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Michael was so bored, these things freakin took forever.

The judge said, "Given your lack of prior criminal record I am inclined towards probation. However the fact that you discharged a deadly weapon during the commission of the crime suggests malice to me, for that reason I find it incumbent that you see the inside of a prison Mr. Scofield. It says here that you've requested to be incarcerated somewhere near your home here in Chicago. I'm willing to honor that. The closest level one facility..."

Here she was interrupted by his lawyer, whose name he'd just found out was Niki Larter, who protested, "Level one! That's maximum security, your Honor.

The Judge, who now looked mad, said, "I would ask counsel to refrain from interrupting me," then paused and looking at Michael, continued, "As I was saying, the closest level one facility would be Fox River State Penitentiary. As for the term of your sentence, I'm setting it at five years; you'll be eligible for parole in half that time. Sentence to be carried out immediately.

She then sounded the gavel and Michael ignored the sudden butterflies in his stomach, as the bailiff came to get him. As the van headed towards the penitentiary, Michael thought, 'Phase one of his plan: get sent to Fox River, accomplished' and then when the van pulled into Fox River, Michael decided it was time to put Phase two: get Lincoln Burrows out of Fox River, into action.

…TBC…

(If you want me to)

So whaddya think? Good, iffy, bad, better, could be better? Should I continue? Reviews and Constructive Criticism are always appreciated.

*wishes really, really hard*hope you enjoyed it, yours truly, Brownie.