Author's Note: Yay for another Michael POV! Let me know what you think :)

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own any of these characters. Prison Break and all related elements, characters, and indicia are copyright Paul Scheuring, 20th Century Fox Television, Adelstein-Parouse Productions, and Original Television.

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Sara seemed intent on planning this celebration dinner, so I decided to go along with it, for her sake and my peace of mind. I had everything important figured out already, so me and her sat in our room and shot ideas back and forth, and I usually agreed with hers. I told her she was going to have to take Lincoln and LJ to the store or something so I could set up.

"Why can't Veronica take them?"

"Because I want to make sure it's done right," I said with a smile, knowing that my flattery would get her.

"You sure are a sweet talker."

"Well you deserve to be sweet talked, Doctor Tancredi." And there it was. She pushed me off the bed and laughed as if I spontaneously fell. Her mock surprise was so convincing that I thought I DID spontaneously fall for a second there, she even extended her hand and everything to help me up. She was lucky I didn't pull her down with me, but I was playing it easy during the pregnancy, I didn't want to take any chance of complicating things. Lord knows both our lives have been way too complicated as it is, we don't need any other difficulties. So there we were, starting our new suburban life together, and I couldn't be happier. One thought wouldn't get out of my head, no matter how hard I willed myself to get rid of it.

Nika.

I couldn't help but feel guilty for the way I had used her on more occasions than we originally agreed on, but I kept telling myself I did it for Lincoln, it's what I had to believe.

"Michael? What's wrong?"

"Just thinking," I answered, slowly drawing myself back to reality, the here and now that was my new beginning.

"About anything in particular?"

"Is it ever that easy?" She let out a sad laugh and kissed my forehead before laying down and drawing the blanket up to her chin.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight." And there I sat, in the dark, knowing that I should already be next to her, my arm encircling her waist, but I just sat there.

"Sara…"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," I said, like I was trying to validate the point I'd been going over in my head. I could hear the smile in her voice when she said she loved me, too, and it pushed everything I was unsure about into the back of my mind.

I was only asleep for maybe two hours before I woke to the bathroom light shining through the cracked door and the soft babbling of the water faucet running. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up with a yawning stretch, letting my feet absorb the soft carpet while my eyes adjusted to the scarce light. Sara must've heard my joints popping because she mumbled something vaguely resembling "I'll be out in a second." That just made me even more concerned as I stalked across the floor to the bathroom, easing the door open and peering inside.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Go back to bed, I'll be there in a second." Something about the way she was cradling the toilet bowl, her red hair falling into the water, told me she was everything except fine. I looked around and found a scrunchie and threw her hair into a haphazard bun of sorts before running a cool bath in the tub. After it seemed she was done puking, I had her gargle some mouthwash and helped her undress. I managed to slip her white tank top over her head, completely annihilating her new hairstyle. Her loose satin pants were a different story, though. I had to stand her up and have her lean against me for balance so I could slide them down to her knees, then sit her on the now closed toilet while I finished pulling them off. Despite her raging fever, her petite body was still trembling, and it only escalated when I lowered her into the tub. Her pale breasts heaved as every tremor rolled through her body, making it all the more difficult to successfully wash her hair while keeping the shampoo out of her eyes.

"Wait here, I'll be right back," I said, draining the water from the tub. My movements were methodically brisk as I walked to the hallway and jacked the thermostat to ninety, grabbing a maroon sweat suit and heading to the bathroom. I dried her hair first while the water finished draining and moved on to the rest of her body, taking extra caution to be gentle. I was beyond surprised when I realized that I just bathed her and I wasn't even the slightest bit aroused, my concern for her overpowering my libido. She seemed more composed as I dressed her, standing upright by herself, talking coherently.

"Why's it so hot in here?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"Gotta break that fever," I replied, leading her to the bed and piling the blankets over her. "Don't go to sleep, yet."

"Pretty hard to sleep in a sauna." She offered a weak smile and I returned it, going to the kitchen and coming back with a glass of orange juice and a straw.

"Drink up, Doctor Tancredi." Her colorless lips wrapped around the straw and she gulped greedily, finishing off half of the juice. "Were you thirsty?"

"A little," she said, resting her head back on her pillow with a small smile and closing her eyes. I tucked the blankets around her and leaned down, my lips grazing her clammy forehead.

"Goodnight." My whisper confirmed my suspicions, she was already sound asleep, her breath coming in a steady rhythm. I eased out of the room backwards, pulling the door shut behind me and going into the kitchen, opening up the sliding door.

I turned on the coffee pot and stepped out onto the deck, leaning against the rail, the salty morning air feeling like a blessing against my ink covered skin. I watched the small waves lap onto the beach, the first seagulls waking up and swooping into the water for their breakfast.

"Mike?" I glanced to my right and saw Lincoln appearing to have just been doing what I was. He quietly jogged across the yard and up next to me, his hands never leaving his pockets.

"Hiding something?" I didn't look at him, but we both knew what I was talking about.

"It's either this or pull my hair out," he said with a mixture of lightheartedness and frustration, a way that had become his trademark tone of voice.

"Do I want to ask?" I knew I did just as well as him.

"That's up to you." Something was definitely up, he was doing that thing with his eyes, squinting them so they're almost not even open anymore, and I sighed in aggravation.

"Alright, I'm asking."

"Veronica's pregnant."

"You're kidding."

"Why else would I be awake at five in the morning?"

"Because that's what grumpy old men do?"

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"Take it easy. You're a free man, you've got Veronica, you've got LJ, and you've got another one on the way.

"It's not mine."

I looked at my brother, confusion etched all over my face. "What are you talking about, Linc? It sure as hell isn't mine."

"I haven't slept with Veronica in over three years, it's either Nick's or Sebastian's or…" His voice trailed off briefly. "Or someone else's."

"That's ridiculous. If it's not yours, it's got to be Sebastian's. We both know her, she wouldn't sleep with Nick, much less someone else. She's not a tramp."

"You think I don't know that, Mike?" This was the first time in a long time that my brother's anger had intimidated me, but once I stepped back and saw the big picture I realized it wasn't anger at all. It was raw jealously. He was jealous of Sebastian for getting Veronica pregnant. He was jealous because he wasn't the father. He was jealous because he knew that even if Veronica stayed with him and raised the kid as his son it would never have his genes. I just happened to have gotten sucked into this predicament, as if I didn't already have more than I could chew, but I couldn't think of a single thing that could comfort him. I was forced into sharing a silence with him and hoping that it meant something, that he knew I sympathized with what he was going through. Something told me this was an issue he had to work through on his own, an issue that couldn't be solved or eased by myself, or anyone else for that matter. He turned back around and stared across the open sea, and I saw a silent tear run down his cheek, falling off of his chin and landing in the sand below.