Lincoln had asked Sara about the attack, and Sara told him that she thought that he should ask Michael, so there he stood, in front of Michael as he explained everything about his LLI.

Lincoln understood, now, how Michael zoned out, how sometimes he looked as though he was concentrating so hard, but inside he was wishing he'd just stop thinking.

Michael's eyes began to glaze over as he spoke, and Lincoln saw it before it hit, "Michael, slow down," and with that, Michael seemed to slip out of the trance.

x-x-x

Sara sat in her office, thumbing through her patients through the day when Theodore "T-Bag" Bagwell walked through the door, cuffed, with Bellick closely behind.

"Ah, Dr. Tancreadi," He breathed in his accent - looking her up and down, "Theodore," She nodded, signalling him to take a seat, which he did. Bellick looked at her as if to say, "I'm not leaving," and Sara agreed with a small nod.

Sara was halfway through her check-up with Theodore when those sirens went off, and Bellick and the other guards that were normally positioned in the Infirmary left without a word, rushing to another cell-block.

Sara noted in her head that until the guards came back, she should take all precautions - she knew T-Bagg well enough to know that his mind just wasn't on his medical check-up.

But it still suprised her when he leapt from his seat and grabbed her by the throat, she gasped and T-Bagg got a dark look upon his face; and Sara knew what was about to happen, but couldn't help but to pleade.

T-Bagg would have none of that, he threw her against the desk and reefed the black pants she was wearing down, exposing her clothed bum, and stood there for a moment as Sara began sobbing, taking it all in. "Why, Miss Tancreadi, do you cry?" He asked, slowly removing her underwear, and pulling himself out of his prison-blue pants he wore.

Sara sobbed with fear, unable to move, unable to call for help. The sirens rang unforgivably loud in her ears, and she focused on that while T-Bagg did what he did - be a predator, nobody was ever safe when it came to T-Bagg.

x-x-x

LJ was sitting at the table when Sara arrived home, Michael and Lincoln had gone out shopping or something.

When LJ saw Sara, his heart stopped beating for a moment. Her lip was cut, bruises around her neck accompanied by shell-shocked eyes. "Sara.. what... what happened?" Got up and walked towards her, Sara just put up her hands in defeat and walked upstairs.

LJ stood frozen for a moment, staring at the space where Sara stood moments ago; unsure whether to follow her, call his Father, or just let her be.

He decided on letting her be, and busied himself looking for one of Sara's old cookbooks, thinking he'd cook dinner and take the stress off Sara.

LJ looked through the cabnet, and pulled out and old book; blowing the dust off it, there was neat print on the front that read "Laura's Cook Book", LJ didn't know who Laura was - but apparantly she was quite a cook, LJ decided once he'd opened it and saw little annotations on all of the pages, they all looked so complicated, so LJ kept searching and come across a recipe for a basic roast and dish, serving six.

LJ went to work, pulling out all the ingredients needed, although it took him about 10 minutes to figure out how the oven worked, he was quite proud. The vegetables were in a pot on the stove, boiling away.`

LJ decided to go watch some tv, keeping a keen eye on time so he'd know when to get the roast out, and when to stop boiling the vegies.

x-x-x

Sara sat on the floor of the shower, scrubbing at herself relentlessly, empty bottles scattered carelessly around the bathroom. She'd used soap, shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream, nail polish remover and a brush, her body red and aching - yet she couldn't get the feeling of being so dirty off.

Sara stepped out of the shower, leaving the warm spray momentarily before returning with a tube of toothpaste, emptying it into her hand she began scrubbing at herself again, she no longer cried - she couldn't, as much as she wanted to. It was like her tear ducts had become annoyingly numb.

"Fucking hell," Sara muttered, the feeling of being so dirty becoming so intense, now spreading more across her skin.

Sara lay in the shower, her head laying heavily on the tiles of the floor; staring at the water pouring down the drain, she saw her soul doing the same.

x-x-x

Michael and Lincoln had been out shopping all day, buying LJ some news clothes, food and other items that seemed good at the time.

The beach was Lincoln's favourite place - and it seemed everything he and Michael went out together, they ended up there

Michael had decided he liked Lincoln's smile, even when he was smiling at someone else, but even more when it was directed at him.

Michael's feeling had developed at a scary pace, catching himself staring at Linc and wondering what it would be like to see him naked, to feel the heat of his body pressed up against him in a warm embrace, to have him all to himself, snuggling into his neck when he wanted to shut the rest of the world out.

To have him there when his brain went into over-drive, to make the feeling inside him that something no longer worked to dissipate.

"I miss surfing," Linc commented as they walked across the beach, sand filtering through his toes, "I've never surfed.. I was never really close enough to a beach for it," Lincoln's eyes widened at that - and he turned from Michael and ran up the beach, after calling "be right back!" over his shoulder.

Michael sat on the sand, watching the sun begin to descend; something he never really quite got over, something to beautiful get so simple.

Lincoln returned with a surfboard tucked tightly underneath his muscular arms, and Michael knew exactly what he was thinking by the mischeivous grin placed so carefully on his face.

Michael couldn't really get the hang of surfing - but he did get the hang of watching the way Linc's body moved, and it created a familiar weight in his crotch, so he stayed in the water till it subsided; finding it rather difficult to will it down because he kept watching.

Lincoln waded through the water towards the shore, gently nudging the board in the right direction as it floated in the ocean, and Michael couldn't take his eyes off him, the way the water dripped from his nose, the way his shorts clung to his lightly haired legs with water, and even the way his fair flicked back slightly.

Lincoln stood over Michael and dripped the cool water all over Michael's now dry skin, and Michael squirmed in torture.

Michael also decided he liked Lincoln's lips when they were wet, creating a comfortable contrast when their lips touched gingerly - a ghosted promise that Linc would always be there.