Author's Note: I found this chapter to be somewhat of a bore, but I think it was required to drive the plot. As always, reviews are encouraged and greatly appreciated.
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.
----------
He bent down and picked up his shoes as he stood up, sliding his dirty and now wet clothes off to the far corner, under the sink, with his foot. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he had a view of everyone except Sara. Abruzzi and Sucre were in the other room, Veronica and Lincoln sitting on the bed that was apparently proclaimed as theirs, talking quietly. Everyone seemed to have had their showers already, wet hair and the smell of generic soap wafting through the room. Veronica looked up at him as he placed his shoes under the table and smiled. It threw him off guard, but he returned it, not sure what caused her to do it.
"Hell, maybe she's just happy to see me," he thought to himself. He was still looking at her, and saw her excuse herself from the conversation to come over to him. She playfully pulled at the front of his shirt as she brushed past him.
"Sara picked out that outfit," she whispered with a grin, continuing to the bathroom without stopping. He thought back to how the shirt covered him with warmth in the bathroom, but immediately dismissed the thought as illogical. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath before exhaling it as a long sigh. He had recently begun to really question his sanity, then realized that there was no doubt in his mind that he wasn't all there.
"I robbed a bank so I could break out of prison," he thought cynically. He had a feeling that he wasn't the only one battling inner demons, the prospect being shared by his brother, and probably everyone else in these two rooms, but it was still a hell of a load to bear.
"You okay, Mike?" He shook his head free of thoughts, trying to focus on one thing at a time.
"Yeah, zoning out again, I guess. Where's Sara?"
Lincoln tilted his head towards the other bathroom. "Shower."
The thought of the hot water trickling down her soft, insipid skin was enough to put his hormones in overdrive, his dream coming back in one big whoosh. He should've known from the beginning that it wasn't real, Sara wasn't the type who barged into a bathroom unannounced, but he was stunned with the sheer magnificence of what was happening, wishing it to be tangible.
He looked around him, checking that no one was listening to them. "I need to talk to her, Linc. About everything."
Lincoln nodded somberly, fully understanding his brother's situation. He heard the toilet flush, and leaned in to offer some reassurance. "I got it covered, Mike. Sit down. Relax." He smiled over Michael's shoulder at Veronica, walking over to offer a kiss, a just-because gesture.
Michael ambled over to his bed, the bed he'd hopefully been forced into sharing with Sara, thankful he didn't have to bring up the idea. He counted on the fact that she'd sleep there willingly, after the talk he had with her. After he stopped trying to keep everything bottled up inside him.
Sometime while he was lost in thought, Sara had entered as Lincoln and Veronica exited, softly shutting the door behind them, leaving him in complete seclusion with the prison doctor. She was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans, flared at the legs, along with a thick, green turtleneck. God, she looked exquisite.
"We need to talk, Sara. About everything."
She proceeded towards him slowly, a look of confusion on her face as she sat down on the other bed, facing him, a mere two feet between them. Her eyes searched his, desperate to find a hint of what was going on in his head, finding nothing. "Alright," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. "Let's talk."
He carefully scrunched his sleeves up past his elbows, revealing his tattoos to her. "Do you see these?" He wanted to stay calm, and had to whisper just to avoid breaking down. "Inside these pictures, these designs, are the blueprints to Fox River. Inside is every important detail of my plan to rescue my brother, and to keep him safe.
She just stared at him, already being overwhelmed with shock.
"That's how I knew how to find you, during the riot. I saw you on that monitor, and I dashed to you as quickly as I could."
"Oh, of course. I forgot. You couldn't let a vital piece of your plan be killed by raging psychopaths." Her voice was filled with pained emotions, finally piecing together his motives behind his actions that day.
"That's not why I did it, Sara. At all. I saw you there, frightened beyond reason, and that's when I first knew that I loved you."
She could no longer control herself, her silent tears now flowing freely down her cheeks, leaving trails of moisture on her skin.
"I scolded myself repeatedly, knowing I needed to walk away from you, to forget everything, to keep you safe. I couldn't do it." He leaned across the gap and brushed away one of her tears with the back of his index finger. "Now I'm protecting you, just like I'm protecting Lincoln."
She allowed her eyes to drift up and seize his, holding them, an electric current flowing between them, containing too many emotions. "What do you want from me, Michael?" He had to strain to hear her, the words being an octave below a whisper.
His eyes searched hers, then dropped the ground, around the room, before finally capturing hers again. "Your trust." He offered a weak smile. "Just have a little faith, Sara."
She took his left hand in her right, squeezing it softly as she closed the gap of mere inches between their faces. "I love you, Michael, since you risked a bullet in your chest to keep me safe during the riot." She drew him in for a passionate kiss, deeper than any of the others. "There's a McDonald's on the end of the block, 601." She nodded her head towards the adjoining room. "I bet they'd love some greasy fast food."
Michael let out a laugh, nodding in agreement. "I'll get Veronica." He placed another kiss on her lips, and one on the back of her right hand, which was still holding his left. "I love you."
She just smiled and followed him with her eyes as he went to the door and opened it, signaling it was okay for them to come in again.
"Hey, V, can you and Sara run out and grab us all some burgers and fries?"
The randomness of the question caught her off guard, but she quickly recovered, knowing everyone must be starved. "Sure, no problem." She grabbed the keys off of the nightstand and they were gone.
"Abruzzi and Sucre are sleeping like logs," Lincoln said, not really talking to Michael, but not himself, either, just leaving the statement in the air.
"LJ's gonna be fine, Linc. I promise." His brother stared at him for long moment before letting out a sigh.
"Yeah, I know, Mike. He'll be fine, thanks to you."
Michael decided to change the subject. "I guess Tweener's gonna be in for a surprise when he gets to Tooele, Utah."
It worked. Lincoln let out a hearty laugh at the misfortune of the kid that ratted them out to Bellick, about the hole in the break room.
"Up to seeing what they're saying about us on the news?" Michael knew full well that his brother enjoyed seeing how the media attempted to portray him in the worse light possible.
"Damn right I do, Mike," he said, flipping on the TV.
"We have a couple of new updates in regards to this whole Fox River escape ordeal. First off, Nick Savrinn, one of the defense attorneys for Lincoln Burrows, was found dead in his home, along with his father this morning. Charles "Haywire" Patoshik was apprehended at a local Baskin Robins, putting up absolutely no struggle, just begging to finish his ice cream. Details on both of these stories and more, coming up at ten. Now we've got Leah for your traffic report…"
Click.
"Maybe we're not important enough to make midday news out here," Lincoln said, laughing at his frivolous comment.
"Population, three thousand ninety six. Go figure."
"Ah, I need a beer or two. Maybe seven."
Michael grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it at Lincoln. "Call Sara, tell them to stop at the gas station and pick up a couple twelve packs."
Lincoln stared at the phone, then at his brother. "You got the Doc's number?"
"Have to be prepared. Veronica got it for me from her phone after she shot the video of Steadman."
"Whatever you say, bro," he said, playfully rubbing his brother's head while he waited for Sara to pick up.
The call was short, Lincoln sounding massively awkward trying to sound polite.
"They'll be here in a few minutes, beer and greasy cheeseburgers."
Michael nodded and opened the door to the adjoining room. "Get up. Fast food and alcohol."
Abruzzi and Sucre almost bolted out of the beds, stumbling over their own feet as they scrambled to what was pretty much the main room.
"What's the big deal, Fish? I don't see anything new here."
"It's on its way, John, calm down."
Abruzzi grumbled as he sat down in a chair, aggravated that he had to miss a couple minutes of sleep.
The phone sitting on the bed sprung to life, it's shrill ring piercing the air.
"Hello?"
"Yes. I'd like to have a word with a John Abruzzi."
"One moment." Michael held the phone away. "John, phone call."
"Hello?"
"How's it going, John? Been well?"
"What do you want, Falzone?"
"I think we both know what I want. Fibonacci. Tonight. Or you're a dead man."
Click.
Abruzzi's face was a ghostly white, the phone at his side, his eyes transfixed on nothingness.
"Anything you'd care to share with the rest of us?"
"It's, uh, nothing, Fish."
"Nothing doesn't make you turn white as a sheet, John."
"It's Falzone. He wants Fibonacci or…" He cleared his throat, regaining composure. "Or me."
The four of them sat in silence, all of their faces showing identical expressions of concern and thought.
"It doesn't look like you've got many options, because I've told you, I'm not giving you Fibonacci. You can either stay with us like a sitting duck, risk your life along with your freedom, or you can try to hide, wait until the trial."
"I dunno, Fish, I dunno anymore. Is it okay if I make another call?"
"Be my guest."
Abruzzi stared at the keypad for a moment, as if he was remembering the number. The conversation was short, but everyone knew that he planned on leaving, and he planned on doing it before sundown.
He hung up the phone and set it on the table, standing up and walking towards Michael. "Well. Mr. Michael Scofield. I feel obliged to offer you my gratitude for getting me outta that hole."
"It would've been hard to get this far without your connections, John."
Abruzzi laughed a small laugh, not finding too much humor in Michael's honesty. "Sorry about your toes, it was just business."
"Don't worry about it, I don't miss them that much anymore."
Michael was standing now, too, and was surprised to see Abruzzi extend his hand. The handshake was firm, a gesture of understanding and appreciation.
"Good luck," he said, more to everyone than just Michael.
"You, too, John. Stay low."
"Oh, I will, Fish, count on that."
As Abruzzi was finishing his sentence, there was a knock on the door, freezing everyone in their place before common sense kicked in, driving them into hiding in the bathrooms and other room.
Michael slowly crept towards the door, keeping his steps lighter than a feather, holding his breath as he peered through the eyehole.
Noticing who it was, he threw open the door, his frustration mounting, eliminating every drop of fear.
"Jesus Christ, V, ever heard of saying something when you knock?"
Veronica's face was lit up, looking like she just pulled off the biggest prank of the century. "We just wanted to make sure you guys were on edge," she said, putting on her best puppy dog face, trying to make her eyes look innocent. Behind her, Sara was doing her best not to crack up at Veronica's act.
"Good," Michael thought to himself with a smile. "At least she's finally relaxing."
"Are you gonna let us in, Mike? Or would you like us to hold up signs out here, letting everyone know we're here?"
"Sorry," he said, stepping to the side. It was all he could manage. He was too caught up in the setting sun glimmering off of Sara's features, further enhancing her high cheekbones, giving her tender skin a radiant glow. Thoughts of his earlier dream came rushing back to him in a tidal wave of pleasure, how the skin of her neck tasted against his lips, the softness of her flesh beneath his fingertips, the way she sighed his name, barely audible.
"Michael…" He remembered it perfectly, her damp hair matted to the side of her face from the humidity of the steam.
"Michael…" There it was again. "Michael, do you plan on closing the door?"
He whizzed back to reality, noticing he was standing in the doorway, his eyes prying at every inch of Sara's body.
"Sorry." He repeated his previous words, deciding he needed to expand his vocabulary sometime soon. Breaking his gaze from her, he noticed all eyes were on him, and he felt a fiery blush creeping into his cheeks, causing him to bow his head and grab a beer.
Everyone followed suit, and Michael continued concentrating on Sara. Her first gulp of the cheap beer was a long one, her head tilted back, his eyes fixed on how her throat looked as she swallowed the bitter sweet liquid. He felt an erection begin to form and scolded himself, forcing his mind to think about something, anything, except how amazing she looked, how her clothes clung to every one of her luscious curves, begging to be caressed. He had to grip his bottle with both hands to keep from doing just that, and try not to shatter the bottle within his grasp. It was a task that proved to be more difficult than most things he'd ever done.
"Can I keep this backpack, Fish?"
He was once again forced back to reality. "I insist," he said, wanting to go back to concentrating on the woman across the room.
"Thanks again." He finished his beer in a deep swallow, setting the empty bottle on top of the mini fridge.
Everyone raised their bottles in a toast. "To freedom," Sucre declared.
"To freedom!"
John left, laughing as he shut the door, reducing the number of occupants to five.
"My own room!" Sucre was ecstatic, the alcohol doing a number for his spirit.
"Not so fast, Sucre. Me and Veronica are gonna be bunking in there with you, I'm pretty sure Mike and the Doc need two beds."
Sucre seemed to have a moment of disappointment, but it was gone quicker than it came. "Linc the Sink is gonna be my new celly!"
No one could stop a laugh from escaping, clearing enjoying the humor Sucre brought the table after a beer and a half. While everyone was still laughing, Michael exchanged glances with Sara, trying to search her eyes for a hint of what was to come, if she was going to sleep on the other bed. He was unsuccessful, but he did manage to see something, there was something familiar in her look.
They all sat around and talked and drank, Michael doing the best to simply answers questions, trying to figure out where he'd seen that look before. He stayed focused on Sara, watching her chest rise slightly as she inhaled, then returned to its resting place when she exhaled.
"The dream…" He mumbled, abruptly stopping the conversation that was going on around him.
"What'd you say?" Lincoln was looking at him like he was crazy.
"Huh?"
"You mumbled something."
He paused, as if he was pondering his brother's statement. "Maybe I'm crazy."
The conversation picked back up, leaving him alone with his thoughts again. The look in her eyes, it was the one from the dream, when he was leaving light kisses on her shoulders and neck. He remembered how disappointed he'd been once he realized it was only a dream, after the initial shock had passed, feeling guilty as he tried to deny how strong his concern for her was.
The burgers and fries had been devoured in no time, leaving everyone feeling like they were about to explode. There's always room for beer, though, no matter how full you get. It was one of life's many mysteries, but not one that many people argued with. All twenty four beers were gone within three hours of conversation, Lincoln and Sucre drinking most of it.
"We need to get you to bed, Lincoln," Veronica said, almost in a motherly tone to the grown man. "Who knows, you may even have a little surprise." She winked at him and stood up, Lincoln hot on her trail, stumbling back and forth as he tried to stay behind her, falling on the bed twice before he made it in the other room.
"I need to get some sleep, too. Sobering up's no fun when you're still awake, papi." Michael nodded, offering a smile to his intoxicated friend. "Thanks again, for everything." Sucre grabbed him in a one-armed bear hug, the overwhelming smell of alcohol doing a number on Michael's nostrils, causing him to make a face that Sara apparently found quite amusing.
A minute later, Sucre was gone, the door closed, leaving the two of them alone.
"I'll let you get some sleep, Sara. You must be exhausted."
"Actually, not really, I'm more giddy than anything. You can go to sleep if you want, it's no big deal."
"Not tired," he said with a smile.
"Feel like talking?"
He was quiet, a silent debate waging war in his head. "I dreamed about you."
"Excuse me?"
"This afternoon, in the bathroom. I dreamed about you."
"What was it about?" She seemed genuinely interested, and it was the only reason he answered her.
"It was our souls finally uniting as one. Well, until I woke up." He cast a playfully accusing glance at her.
"I'd like to hear all about it, if you don't mind…"