Hi. This is the first time I've tried writing something for Prison Break. I fell in love with the show way back when it had its first run, and recently got obsessed all over again when I rewatched the first four seasons on Netflix to prepare for the fifth season.

This is a very short one shot, mostly because I am only testing the waters for now. But it could eventually become more. I don't know yet if or when that will happen - that depends on various things, my work-life balance being one of them and what the writers will give us in season 5 being another.

All I know right now is that I really wanted to write something from Michael's POV that took place between the ending of season 4 and the start of season 5. This is the result. Hope you enjoy!

(If you decide to comment on this - and I hope you will - please no spoilers for 5x05, since I have only seen the first four eps of season 5 so far!)

The sun blazed down on the lone headstone and the small family of people gathered around it, setting them aglow like a classic painter's rendition of the gate to heaven. They were talking, the breeze carrying the sound of their voices over to where he hid in the shadows, but he couldn't make out the words.

His whole body ached with the need to join them, to join her.

Instead, he receded deeper into the darkness when they started to leave. They left one by one, quietly, hesitantly. The little boy and his mother were the last ones to leave, the boy throwing a glance back over his shoulder. For just a tiny fraction of a second it felt like their eyes met and a connection was formed through four years of shadows and yearning. His heart leapt and his whole body went still as a statue. Then they were gone and he closed his eyes in relief. They were safe once more, blissfully unaware of the danger they had been in the entire time they had been here.

A sniper, hidden even to his eyes, ensured that he would keep his distance from them.

They came here every year, and so did he. He'd made it clear from the very first moment that he would only cooperate if he could see his family on a regular basis, even if that meant just once a year. So they'd let him, but only from afar. He was to keep his presence hidden at all times or the sniper would do what he was trained to do.

The powers that be needed him dead so he could operate completely under the radar when he did their filthy work.

A whistful smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he finally stepped into the sunlight, turning his face upwards and taking a moment to just bathe in warmth. He'd experienced so little warmth since the day he'd died...

He walked over to the headstone, traced the engraved name with one finger. "Michael Scofield." He whispered the name of the man he had once been. The man they had promised him he could be again one day. If he held up his end of the deal until they had no more need for his services. He had never been under the illusion that they were planning on ever actually keeping that promise.

So he'd made sure he had a contingency plan in place.

His smile grew wider as he picked up the origami crane his brother had put on the headstone minutes before and thought about the contents of the grave underneath the headstone. A suit, a name. Kaniel Outis. He had faith that if the suit was ever found, the people who cared for Michael Scofield would piece the puzzle together. And he would use any means necessary to make sure the suit was found if and when needed.

A shuffling sound behind him signaled their arrival. For CIA operatives they weren't very stealthy, he thought as his smile grew cold and then vanished. Carefully, he put the crane back on the headstone and straightened himself. Time to go. Again. But this time, he was going with hope in his heart.

One more, they had told him this morning, during the briefing before they drove him here.

One more job.

One more break out.

One more prison.

He'd be in and out of Yemen in just a couple of weeks. After that, Kaniel Outis would cease to exist, much like Michael Scofield once had.

He intended to hold them to their promise, whether they liked it or not.

He turned to face them, using his right hand to shield his eyes from the sun. They must be melting in their black suits, but they didn't show it, just giving him identical stoic looks as they waited for him to come to them. He threw one last, longing look over his shoulder to where Sara and Mike had disappeared. Just a couple more weeks, he promised them silently.

One of the agents cleared his throat. "It's time."

"I know. I'm ready." Michael started walking to where a black SUV with blacked out windows had pulled up and they joined him in silence. They got in and the car drove off.

The sun blazed down on the lone and now abandoned headstone. The breeze ruffled through the lilies on top of it before finding the crane. The paper bird took flight, carried by the wings of the breeze.