Katie picked up the radio at the desk. "Bellick, who's the victim? We need to pull his chart." She picked up a pencil, ready to write down the name.
"Scofield," Bellick replied after a moment.
Sara was walking by at that moment, and she froze. "Michael Scofield?" she asked, feeling something in her stomach twist.
"Michael Scofield?" Katie repeated into the radio.
"The one and only," Bellick replied sarcastically. Sara turned away immediately, going into exam room two on autopilot.
Her body set up for an exam; she put up the screen and collected supplies, put fresh paper on the exam table, and laid out a gown. But her brain was elsewhere.
Michael Scofield was the assault victim? Here, assault was code for only one thing. Rape. She couldn't bear to think about it.
This man was not like the other cons—he was educated, brilliant, charming, sweet, and good-hearted. She couldn't help but believe that, despite the fact he'd lied to her, despite the fact that he'd flirted with her even though he was married, despite the fact that she had questions about him for which there didn't seem to be answers. Something told her that this man was more. More than just another inmate. More than just another con.
Or had been more. She came out of the exam room just as Bellick escorted him into the infirmary. The sight that met her eyes made her want to cry.
Michael was standing, and that struck her as a good sign. His arms were behind his back and he kept his head bowed. She could see blood on his face, and bruises, but he kept his eyes down. "Bring him into exam 2," she commanded, and somehow, her voice was steady. Bellick gave Michael a push, and she felt hatred for him spring up anew. How dare he treat this man like that, after everything? Hadn't he endured enough?
Once in the exam room, she said, "Thank you, Officer Bellick. I can handle it from here."
Bellick looked like he wanted to protest. She raised an eyebrow, and made her tone more stern. "I said I can handle it."
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Bellick nodded, and left the office. She shut the door behind him and finally turned her full attention to Michael.
She felt her heart break. "Michael?" she said quietly, looking at the battered man. "I need you to change into a gown for me, all right?" She kept her voice gentle.
She heard him swallow in the silence. "I…I can't." His voice was barely more than a whisper. It hurt her to hear it.
"Why not?" Sara asked him, not knowing what to expect. What had happened to him? She didn't want to know, and yet, she had to. "You're walking; is there something wrong with—"
"My hands," he replied, cutting her off. She saw him shudder.
"What's wrong with your hands, Michael? Let me see them." She reached out one of her hands, but he didn't move, just shook his head.
"You'll…uh…have to," he swallowed again, "untie them for me."
What? Sara felt her eyes widen. "Turn around Michael," she said. He paused, and then, slowly, did. She covered her mouth with her hand.
His wrists had been tied together with a piece of rope, tightly knotted. There was blood covering his shoulder. His uniform had been shredded. She felt her stomach revolt at the implications. Okay. First things first.
"Bellick let you walk here like that?" she asked, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. Michael didn't respond. She swore under her breath, grabbing a scissors from a desk drawer and gently taking Michael's hands. "Hold still," she said. "I'll cut you loose." She could feel him trembling under her gentle touch, and it pained her.
Michael stayed as still as possible as she carefully sawed away at the rope. Finally, the last cord broke, and his hands came free. They fell to his sides, and Michael turned and faced her.
He was close. So close. Bruises and blood covered that beautiful face. The coppery scent of blood and fear overshadowed his usual warm, masculine scent. She turned away.
"Change into the gown, please," she said. "I'll be right back."
She fled the room, her stomach twisting. This was just the beginning of the damage that had been wrought on this beautiful man. How…how was she supposed to keep her heart out of it, when all she wanted to do was hold him, comfort him, tell him everything would be okay?
But she had a job to do. He couldn't be Michael to her, not right now, because that meant she wouldn't be able to do her job without ripping her heart into pieces. He just had to be another inmate. Another con. That was it.
She didn't know if she could do it.