Author's Note/Spoiler Warning: This chapter takes place at the end of episode 7 with spoilers for upcoming episode 8 and/or 9. Come back and read this later if you don't want to be spoiled :)

My Sacrifice
by ARaZhi

Prologue: Brothers

We've seen our share of ups and downs
Oh how quickly life can turn around
In an instant
It feels so good to reunite
Within yourself and within your mind
Let's find peace there
When you are with me, I'm free
I'm careless, I believe
Above all the others we'll fly
This brings tears to my eyes
My sacrifice
 --- Creed, My Sacrifice

After what seemed like an eternity of madness, Cell Block A has finally lapsed in silence broken only by the occasional snore or grunt from the sleeping inmates. Behind me, my cellmate, Fernando Sucre is deeply asleep.

I leaned my head against the wall, finally allowing the waves of guilt to wash over me.

No one was supposed to die. There wasn't supposed to be a riot. None of these were part of the plan.

I shut my stinging eyes. Officer Bob's fear, T-Bag's bloodlust, Sucre's jubilation, Lincoln's worry and fear for my safety. The fear, anger, pain, and chaos around me just hours ago were overwhelming. The guilt inside me is almost crippling.

A traitorous voice inside my head repeated the same question I had answered and rationalized hundreds of times before.

Is Lincoln worth all this?

Worth all the pain… the sacrifice…

I knew when I came up with this plan that once its set into motion, there's no going back. I'm in it for the long haul. Everything and everyone I have will either be taken away or will go away. I gave up everything and everyone for my brother.

Because he did the same thing for me. Because I love him. And because he deserves nothing less.

Mom died when I was very young. It was a time when I couldn't even fully comprehend death. Back then, I believed Lincoln have the answers and the solution to everything. I thought that Lincoln could bring her back.

And when he couldn't, I was crushed.

I felt abandoned. I never knew my father. Then my mom was taken away from me. I promised myself, at a young age, that no matter what I'm not going to lose Lincoln. He could push me away all he wants, but as long as he's fine, as long as he's alive somewhere, I know I can go on.

I'm not going to let anyone take Lincoln away from me. I won't be abandoned again.

I'm not going to let my brother die.

If it means giving up everything I've worked so hard for to achieve, then so be it.

Is Lincoln worth all this?

He is.

I have only one life to give; I'm giving it to my brother.

Just as he did for me.

Lincoln hadn't always have been the bad boy that most people remembered. Those who knew him well like Veronica, knows that he was a good student, a good son, and the best brother any boy could ask for.

Veronica lived just across the street. She's a year younger than Lincoln but at that time they were the only kids at the neighborhood. They've always hung out together. When I came along, I grew to love Veronica like an older sister.

When mom died, Lincoln had to be strong for my sake. I was depressed for weeks, unable to sleep, and crying for my mom. I'd stare at the tree outside my window, engrossed at the tiniest details. Lincoln did his best to cheer me up. He protected me when the bullies in school picked on me. Helped me with my homework. Helped me cope with things I couldn't understand.

Why do I see things differently?

Little kids could get away with having an active imagination. At first it was like a game. Lincoln would ask me to explain to him things the best way I can and he'd correct me if I'm wrong. Just like a kid with never ending questions of what and why. Except that my brother can't get away with: just because. He patiently explained everything. I guess he was hoping I will grow out of that phase.

But I didn't.

I couldn't block out the information streaming to my brain, too much of them. My senses could also pick up on people's emotions more acutely than normal.

When I was ten and still fixated on the tiniest details, so much so that it was giving me headaches, Veronica suggested that I go to a doctor.

The meds only held the headaches at bay. But it didn't stop the assault on my senses.

We decided to go to a psychiatrist. Lincoln was initially against it. He was annoyed that Veronica even suggested it.

My brother is not going psycho, V!

I remembered Lincoln snapping that to Veronica. After much explanation, Lincoln relented. That was how we found out about my low-latent inhibition.

That explained a great deal of things. Why I look at the things the way I do. Why I could read or sense people's emotions more acutely than others. It explained my creativity and my ability to grasp topics that are advanced for my age.

The doctor was immensely relieved that my condition did not drive me mad. I remember him saying that those with low IQ are driven insane by the same condition that's turning me into a child prodigy.

Lincoln was very proud of me. He'd always told me that I was special. Gifted.

But my gift was a double edged sword.

Our mother left us a substantial amount of money when she died. Lincoln was doing a good job of running the household on a tight budget. He made sure we have enough for good food and occasionally buys me things that caught my interest. He had set aside enough money so that both of us can go to college.

My condition changed all that.

The psychiatric bills were piling up. My brother wanted to send me to a different school, a better one. A costly one.

Lincoln quit school and got a job. The college money meant for two was now meant only for me. Whatever Lincoln earns goes to household expenses. All the money mom left us was to be used to get me the best education and psychiatrist that money can buy.

Lincoln gave up his future so I can have a bright one.

Along the way, he made some rough turns. Fell in with some bad crowd. It worsened when Veronica went off to college. She was Lincoln's crutch. The one he leans on when he couldn't handle it anymore.

Lincoln did everything to set me right. He made sure I went down the right path. If he has to beat me up to keep me off the streets, he did so. I still have the marks, including the scar on my upper lip. He and Veronica would end up in shouting matches whenever she saw me with bruises.

It was also during this time that I developed what some of my friends refer to as rescuer-complex. Whenever someone was in trouble, I just couldn't stand at the sidelines and leave them at it. I could sense their suffering, I can almost feel their pain. I can't shut it out. The only way for it to stop is if I can somehow help them. And so I did, even though it got me in trouble with my brother because I was unable to get home on time.

After everything Lincoln and I have been through, I won't just stand by and watch him die.

I'll save him. Or die trying.

- o 0 o - - o 0 o - - o 0 o -

Author's Note: The next chapters will take place during the years of Lincoln's imprisonment up to Michael's inception and completion of his break out plan. I'm not very familiar with low-latent inhibition, what I wrote above is mostly guesswork on what someone with that condition might experience with help from the spoilers I found. I'll put up the next one as soon as I'm done editing. This is my first Prison Break fic. The first fic I've written after a long hiatus. I'm trying to get in the character's head, hopefully I got this one right. Reviews will be greatly appreciated :)