Author's Note: I like Spanish. So, I included a song by Marta Sanchez y Andrea Bocelli called Vivo por ella. I felt like it was good for Sucre. I also added the translation, for those who need help with it. If you have a second, let me know what you think. And just keep an open mind. I promise…it'll get better."

Chapter Two

Michael was packing the cell. Sucre was laying across his bunk, humming some ridiculous song in Spanish.

Vivo por ella y nadie más (I live for her and no one else)
puede vivir dentro de mi (she could live inside of me)
Ella me da la vida, la vida… (She gives me life, the life…)
sí está junto a mí (if she is together with me)

Michael was almost annoyed. With every passing day, Sucre had become more unbearable. There was more mourning, more depressing Spanish love songs, than there had ever been before. But everyone was a little more apprehensive as the day came closer.

The loudspeaker came on, and announced lunch. There was a beep, and all of the prison doors slid open. Sucre jumped down. Michael stuffed his hands in his pockets, and strolled out of his cell, and into the line of other inmates. He looked down and noticed T-Bag, C-Note, and Abruzzi, all in their formations. This afternoon they wouldn't have to rot in the cells—they could go do some PI work. Just a few more days.

As they reached the cafeteria, the whispering began. Michael still got his tray and filled it with the sloppy food, and found the regular table. It was T-Bag that shared the news that was going around the cafeteria.

"There's a new officer on the block."

"What's so especial about that? A new man you can torture?" Sucre asked as he guzzled a bit of his soda.

"Better. SHE's very pretty, from what they're saying."

C-Note almost chocked on his water. "SHE? A woman?"

"Una chica? No, no."

Michael shook his head. "Look. That's not important. We have to remain focused. This is a good distraction for us to make our move. While she's still new. Everyone will be watching her—we can make our break even more easily." He stabbed at his vegetables, and was absorbed with eating and observing everyone else. But then, he noticed how all conversation stopped, and all clanging of utensils ceased as well.

Every gaze fell on her. Her blond hair was pulled into a braid, but tucked under a hat. Each step was deliberate, not questioned. She didn't even make a movement like she knew that she was being stared at by hundreds of men. It wasn't until one inmate called Oreo, stood up next to her, and smiled. Michael strained to hear what he said.

"Can I help you with that?" He put his hands out for her tray.

"May?" The inmate's smile disappeared as he looked at his friend. She tapped her foot impatiently. "May I help you with that? Speak your language properly." She pushed past him. He almost started after her, but there were five officers behind her in line. Oreo sat down again. T-Bag snickered.

"She speaks proper English. Most of these men will not be able to get near her. Fortunately for me—I have been well versed in language."

"Explains why you can't keep your damn mouth shut," C-Note replied, as he took a big bite of his sandwich. T-Bag followed suit. The officers wound around the cafeteria, taking seats near the window. Michael watched her out of the corner of his eyes. She took a napkin and unfolded it, placing it over her lap, and then grabbed a fork and started cutting her food. As she took her first bite, her eyes trailed around the room.

"Hombre. She's checking you out."

Michael looked up from his tray, to see Sucre motioning to the officers' table. Indeed, her eyes were locked on him. He smiled, and gave a tiny wave. Her mouth was stuffed with food, but her whole face softened at the sight of him. She gulped down her meal, and continued to stare at him. Her eyes were tracing his face.

He looked away, unable to hold that gaze. There was something about those eyes.

"Hombre. First, the doctor… Now this chica. What were you like before you got here?"

"Definitely not a lady's man." He grinned at his own joke.

The bell buzzed for them to return to their cells. As he took his tray to the trash can, he noticed that she was standing by the window, holding her tray, watching him. He gave a two-fingered wave, and started for his cells. He almost didn't hear the tiny voice whisper, "Scofield."

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By the time he turned around, she had hidden behind on the guards. It was too soon. Too quickly. She could get into a lot of trouble. And that was the last thing she needed. Alex returned to Death Row with Officer Davis. She was quiet. So was he. He was probably still mad that she had beaten him 10 times in blackjack and four times in poker.

The two guards they had left to guard Lincoln's cell were laughing over something, but quieted only slightly as Davis and Alex appeared. Alex was half expecting them to just disappear, but they stayed.

"So, Davis. Not only get to babysit the convicts, but now the newbies."

Alex sat down in a vacant chair, near one of the windows and gazed over the lawn. So many fences. So much barb wire. It all made her feel so locked away. Which is what she was—but she still didn't like it.

"Did you hear me, girl?"

Alex turned quickly away from the window. "Officer. I'm wearing the same badge as you. Don't pretend like you can't see it. It's right there!" She pointed to her chest, where she knew they had all looked before. "Now. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Is there a problem here?" Bellick's voice came booming from the hallway. The four officers turned, and straightened. One of the guards, whom Alex didn't know, started mumbling something about being in big trouble, but quieted when Bellick arrived. "I asked a question."

Alex rolled her eyes at the other men who weren't volunteering ANY information. "No, Captain. There is no problem here."

He stepped even closer to her. She could smell his breath, but didn't dare look anywhere than straight in front of her. "Glad to hear it, Officer." He stepped back a pace, and Alex let out a little air. "Collins. You will be moved to security over the PI crew. Now, these convicts are usually known to be on the best behavior—and according to the Warden, these are the safest men to be around, but I have my doubts." As Bellick spoke, he circled Alex, leering down on her. But she stood her ground, hoping that he would finish soon. "But I'm not the boss around here. Or else I would have you behind a desk somewhere…" His voice lowered as he got closer to her ear. She brushed him aside and continued staring straight ahead. "But the Warden wants to try you out there."

"Doesn't Burrows go to PI crew?"

Bellick's eyebrows came together. "Already getting to know the prisoners, aren't we, Officer Collins?"

"I feel it necessary to know the inmates in order to better help them. Better serve them. And especially those who will be here for the rest of their lives. It wouldn't be fair to leave them all alone."

"Are we really about fairness, Collins?"

She finally turned and noticed that his face was inches from her own. "This country was founded upon the idea that justice would always prevail. I am a firm believer in justice. But I suggest we leave this conversation for another time, so that we can return to work." Alex again looked forward.

Captain Bellick gave a little laugh and then went to Lincoln's cell and opened the door. "Get out here. You've got work." He disappeared inside the cell, and there was the clang of the locks. Lincoln appeared in the doorway, shielding his eyes from the sunshine. Alex gave a little gasp. He looked so much… She whipped herself into her stance.

"Collins. Let's go."

She turned and started out to the yard with Lincoln and Bellick in front of her. Lincoln walked carefully. Each step meant something. Bellick thudded down the long hallway. Alex looked through every window they passed and noticed the group of convicts that were gathering. The same ones she had seen in the cafeteria earlier. There was already one officer out there. As they reached the door, Lincoln was offered a jacket. The cool autumn wind was whipping around. Collins grabbed for a nearby jacket, and zipped it up.

They walked out into the fresh air. Alex could only realize how much recreational periods would mean to these inmates. After only a few hours, she was loving the smell of fresh air. She wasn't paying attention to the clouds rolling by—rather, she noticed each of the characters that made up her new assignment. From the short, skinny white man, to the African-American, the older men, the latino. Again, her eyes landed on the face—that face that haunted her. She felt something get stuck in her throat, but willed herself to keep walking, never stopping from looking at that face.

And he was looking at her too.

They allowed Lincoln to enter the lockerroom to change. She and Bellick went to the other two officers. "Officers Scott and Williams… This is Officer Collins. She's new here to Fox River. The Warden wants her to be trained. Take care of her." And with that, Bellick turned on his heels and walked away. But not without a wink to Alex. She almost gagged on her saliva.

"Is he ALWAYS like that?"

The two officers stopped their conversation that had just begun. One of them coughed, while the other gave a nervous laugh. "Listen. If you can't handle it, sweetie…"

It was enough. Turning on her heels, Alex stalked off to wander amongst the prisoners and their work. One of the older men was digging a hole. He looked like he was about to double over in pain. "Are you alright, sir?"

The man stood up, his white hair shining in the afternoon sun. He was bundled up well. He smiled down at her. "I'm fine, kid."

Alex nodded, and moved onto another work—the African-American. She smiled at him. "Hello. How's it coming?"

He looked up at her, and shaded his eyes with one hand. "Why don't you dig for awhile and tell me?"

"Now, now, C-Note. She's just curious. Aren't you, angel?" Alex turned slightly at the slippery voice. The scrawny little man was standing to her left, licking his lips. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, and started to head for another part of the yard, but he touched her arm. "Curious and beautiful. How long are you gonna be around us, Angel? Because I would love to have a piece of heaven." His hands started to move down her arm.

With one quick motion, Alex had twisted his arm back in an abnormal position, and taken the opportunity to give him a good kick to his lower extremities. He withered in pain on the ground. She bent down low to him. "Don't you EVER touch me again. And don't you DARE suggest or insinuate ANYTHING about me. WE are NOT friends."

She stood up and walked back to the fence where the other two guards were. She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned against the chain links.

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Every man in that yard was watching her with interest. T-Bag stood up, and started breathing out threats—something about that bitch and the next time he was close enough, but Michael was watching her closely, just as she was studying him closely. There was something in that look that he didn't like. It was a look like she knew him, like she was completely familiar with him.

"Hombre. ¿Qué pasa?" Sucre asked, kicking some dirt onto Michael's shoes. It brought him right back to Fox River—to the plan.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Give me one more day, gentlemen. And then, we'll be out of here."