Clara sat down in the lawyer's office, her legs folded over each other as she looked at the lawyer who sat across from her. He wore a white suit that stuck to his back, his blue tie dangling halfway down his shirt. He said nothing for a moment, looking over the folder that he had in his fingertips.

"It seems Senor Mahone is in a lot of trouble, si?" he asked of her and Clara shrugged her shoulders, leaning forwards as she listened to the man. He said nothing for another moment, going back to looking at the case notes he had. "It says here that he confessed to everything."

"Only because he was trying to protect me," Clara responded with haste. "You see, there is this man, Michael Scofield, and he planted the drugs in the boat."

"And why would he do that?" the man asked and Clara gulped, peering down to her lap where she was playing with her sunglasses.

"It's complicated," Clara whispered and the man let out a low whistle.

"It always is," he informed her and she rolled her eyes before he shut the folder and dropped it onto his desk. "I'm afraid without any evidence then it's going to be very difficult to prove, especially because he has gone and confessed to the crime."

"But if you could just talk to him and get his side of the story…" Clara trailed off, unsure of what that would do considering her story was exactly the same as his story. She shook her head and the man sighed, sensing the distress she was in as she placed her sunglasses on top of her head and her hands gripped the sides of the wooden chair she sat in.

"I understand this is difficult," he told her. "Your husband-"

"-He is not my husband," Clara interrupted him, shaking her head back and forth. "But he is innocent. He never smuggled drugs."

"I'm afraid, as I have said, that proving that following his confession will be nearly impossible to prove," he informed her. "Besides, the soonest court date I can get will be the end of May."

Clara's brow furrowed and she frowned, leaning forwards again. "The end of May? It's June…"

"Next year."

"Next year!" Clara echoed, voice high pitched as she shrieked and he sat back in his chair as he watched her stand up, arms flapping by her side as she looked around, completely disorientated with what she had heard. He continued to watch her for a few moments before he too stood.

"There is nothing that I can do about that," he told her and she scoffed.

"Clearly," she spoke in a low voice. "So what do I do? I cannot let him stay in that place for a year…he might not even make it…"

"I'm sorry," he responded and Clara turned on her heel and began to move away from the office, leaving the lawyer calling after her. She didn't listen to him. Instead she kept on moving while wondering how the hell she was supposed to tell Alex that he could be stuck there for a year.

…

Clara sat in the suite of the hotel room she was staying in. She had left Lincoln to his own devices, choosing to find her own room. She had bought new clothes and had paid for the room on her credit card, knowing full well she could afford it. She had even called work and told them that she would be gone for a while. They had warned her she was on dangerous ground, but she didn't care. She had other things to worry about and if worst came to the worst then she could sell the house and downsize.

Of course, Tom had been calling her, leaving her voicemail after voicemail. She had listened to some of them, but mainly she chose to ignore them. Some were pleading while others sounded pretty violent. She deleted them and never called him back. He didn't deserve her time right now.

It had been three days since Alex had been locked away and Clara had not been to see him to tell him the news. Instead she had gone to other lawyers who had told her the same thing. Alex was not getting out of there anytime soon. Silence engulfed her as she sat on the bed and considered her options, knowing what she could do, but worrying that it might not be the right thing.

As she thought, the knock on the door alerted her to someone's presence. Moving, she was cautious before she heard the voice on the other side of the wood.

"Clara, it's Lincoln."

She opened it then, letting the man in as he stepped around her and she closed the door. He wore a white top and brown pants, hands holding his head as he looked to her and she knew something had happened.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The Company," he told her. "There's a reason why Michael was kept in that prison. I tried to get him transferred…they said it could be done…that Michael was acting in self-defence, and then out of nowhere The Company sent someone who told me he wouldn't be going."

"What?" Clara asked as Lincoln paced by the window. "Why are they keeping him in there?"

"They need him to break a man out," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know who this man is, but there was this woman there and she knows him. She had this book with her."

"A bird book?" Clara asked as Lincoln pulled it from a pocket and tossed it to her, watching her catch it in her fingertips as she flipped the pages rapidly and it was filled with drawings and notes. "What does all of this mean?"

"No idea," Lincoln said. "But that's not the only problem I've got."

"It gets worse?" Clara wondered, holding the book by her side as Lincoln scoffed.

"You don't know the half of it," he told her. "The Company have my son and Sara. They're keeping them hostage until Michael breaks out this Whistler guy. I don't know why he's so special or what they want from him…only that he has something of theirs."

"Christ," Clara mumbled, perching on the end of the bed as she let her head fall into her hands and Lincoln watched her with intrigue as she closed her eyes and squeezed them tightly together. "So what are you going to do?"

"No idea," Lincoln admitted. "There's this woman in The Company who is keeping tabs on me. She's called Susan and is proving to be a real pain in my arse."

"I don't know what to suggest," Clara shrugged. "I mean, what do you want me to do?"

"Michael said that you know someone in The Company," Lincoln said and Clara stood up, tired of this conversation as she began to move to the other side of the bed. "If you could-"

"-I don't know who it is," Clara interrupted him. "You were there when I asked Agent Kim who it was and he didn't tell me."

"And you have got no idea who it is?" Lincoln said, his voice laced with disbelief as he stepped towards her, clearly trying to intimidate her, but failing miserably as she squared up to him. She kept her head held high, her gaze meeting his. "No idea at all?"

"None at all," Clara said. "It's not my ex because he is more concerned with selling our house than anything else…and I have an uncle and a cousin in LA who work in some technology company. That is everyone I know and none of them are part of this secret organisation."

"Well someone has to be," Lincoln replied.

"Then I don't know who they are!" Clara snapped back at him. "Listen, Lincoln, I'm sorry for you. I really am sorry…but I am not getting involved with this. I can't help you. I have other things to worry about."

Lincoln frowned as he took a step back and Clara did her best not to feel too guilty at what she had just said to him as she turned away. Moving over to the window, she looked out of it as Lincoln spoke to her.

"You're not going to get him out," he told her. "Michael told me he's not the same man who he was in there…something to do with withdrawals."

Clara inhaled sharply then, knowing full well what Alex must be going through. She had seen it with her sister on multiple occasions. There would be the nausea and then the feeling of hot sweats. No doubt he might even feel slightly delirious.

"Yeah," Clara said. "He was on a drug of some kind."

"And you knew?"

"I knew," Clara said, "but the problem with addicts is that it's impossible to make them stop unless you can get them locked away somewhere to help them. Does Alex seem like the kind of man who would let you help him?"

"Not really," Lincoln said, no sympathy in his voice. "Listen, I've got to go and meet this Susan chick. If you think of anything about The Company then let me know, got it?"

"Got it," Clara agreed. "Lincoln," she called when he neared the door and he looked back to her.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"That email your brother sent me; what was in it?"

"Oh," Lincoln said, struggling to believe how that all felt like a very long time ago. "There was a recording of Caroline Reynolds and her brother, proving that he was alive after his death had been faked…but also that the two of them were lovers."

Her eyes widened at hearing that as Lincoln watched her expression turn to one of shock and he nodded.

"Michael thought with you being a former journalist then you'd have contacts."

"I would have at one time," Clara answered him sadly. "Sorry, that's probably the last thing on your mind right now."

"Yeah," was all he offered before opening the door.

She remained stood there, waiting until he left so that she could grab her bag and head back to Sona.

…

She went through the usual routine of signing in and being led to the visitation area. She waited with patience until Alex came out and she knew full well that what Lincoln had told her had been true. He was shaking, his hands constantly moving around his body: pushing through his hair, fiddling with his shirt. He had stubble growing on his chin and his eyes were flitting around everywhere.

"Alex," Clara greeted him and he looked anywhere but at her.

"Clara," he responded. "I thought I told you to go."

"You don't get to make choices for me, Alex," Clara deadpanned and he did look at her then as she saw the defeat in his gaze. "I decide what I do and I am not leaving Panama until I have helped you."

"There's no helping me," Alex said.

"Well, I went to see some lawyers," Clara told him, "and they weren't exactly forthcoming with information or even that helpful. You should never have told the police that you did it. I tried to tell them that you were going to take the fall to save me, but that you were set up."

"And what did they say?" Alex asked, stepping forwards as Clara looked away and Alex knew from the way she was chewing down on her lip that the news wasn't what they wanted. She said nothing and Alex looked down to the ground.

"I've got no hope, huh?" he asked of her and she brought her gaze back to his.

"They have a date for trial," Clara said in a small voice. "It's the end of May."

He frowned. "It's the middle of June."

She let him work it out on his own as she sighed and moved closer, almost as though that would offer him some comfort. She moved her hands to wrap around the bars as Alex turned on the spot, unable to stop himself from moving his hands to his head and holding it tightly.

"Next year," he whispered.

"I went to every lawyer in Panama City and they all said the same thing," Clara informed him. "I'm running out of ideas, Alex. I don't know what more I can do…I mean…the only thing I can think of is calling someone for you in the bureau."

"No," Alex said, shaking his head back and forth. "You cannot do that."

"Why not?" Clara asked from him. "It's all in the news about how this mysterious organisation set Lincoln up. He's been exonerated. That Paul Kellerman came forwards and he told the court everything…if you did the same…backed up what he has told them, then maybe they will let you out."

"There's no chance of that happening," Alex scoffed. "They'll just take me to another jail."

"Perhaps," Clara muttered, "but wouldn't that be better than staying here?"

He shrugged, not offering her any response as she sighed lowly and shook her head, watching as Alex glanced down to the floor. He didn't say anything for another moment before he looked up to Clara, his eyes wide and pleading as he spoke.

"I…I know I told you to go," Alex said to her, "but…I need you…"

She knew exactly where this conversation was going. She had heard her sister mutter the same words to her years ago. She had heard how she would tell her how much she needed her before begging her for drugs. She would plead for her to just get her some and then she would finish. One last hit, she used to call it. Clara shook her head at hearing that, but Alex moved to grab hold of her hand through the bars.

"Please, Clara."

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "I am not smuggling you anything in here."

"I need them," Alex said, his voice frightfully more aggressive as his grip on her increased. "I can't cope, Clara…I won't make it without them…please…I know you want to help me."

She managed to pull her hand away. "Not by enabling you," Clara said with a grimace. "Going cold turkey will be the best thing for you and you know it. Christ, I should have helped you when I first found out, but I knew you would never listen."

"Clara," Alex spoke again as she backed away from the fence, holding her hands up in defence of herself as she backed off.

"No," she said. "I will do everything I can to help you, Alex, but getting you drugs isn't the answer."

She turned on her heel and began to walk away, ignoring the noise of Alex yelling her name as he grabbed hold of the gate and began to tug on it, his behaviour erratic. Clara only turned around when she heard gunshots and her hair whipped over her shoulder, her mouth agape as she saw a cloud of dust form by the fence near Alex's feet. She feared the worst for a moment, but the former agent simply held his hands up in defence and backed away, looking downwards, almost as if he was ashamed by himself.

…

Alex knew that Clara had been right. Deep down he knew that he had to do this, but knowing something and feeling something were two different things. His entire body ached and he could do nothing but shake, his mind whirling as he struggled to focus on anything. He had gone back to the empty cell he had found and rested against the wall on the bed, his legs bent and his hand holding his mouth.

He didn't know how long he had been sat there for until he heard someone enter his space. He took a quick glance over to the man before looking away again. Whistler. Alex had thought that James Whistler had been his chance to find freedom, but he had been wrong. There had been a rumour that if someone found Whistler for Lechero then they could have their day to fight for their freedom. Alex had found him, but the bounty on his head had disappeared as soon as Michael Scofield had done a deal with the King of Sona.

Now all Alex felt was despair. He wanted nothing more than to tell the man to get away from him as he stood in the doorway of his cell.

"What do you want?" Alex asked of him.

"To let you know that you don't have to watch your back…so long as I don't have to watch mine. I don't begrudge what you did. I would have done the same in your position."

Whistler moved further into the room and Alex looked to him. The man had stubble covering his neck and chin, his eyes were almost like Scofield's; full of cunning and plots. His hair was short and his forehead covered in sweat. The white shirt and jeans he wore were as filthy as anything else in the prison.

"Besides," he continued, sitting on the bed opposite Alex's, "you never know when you might need a friend."

Alex kept his hand to his mouth as the man made himself comfy on the bunk, adopting a similar position on the bed to Alex.

"So where you from?" he asked of Alex.

"Ohio," Alex answered, voice low as he kept his gaze on the bed.

"Kalbarri," he responded.

"Australia," Alex said. "Some good fishing places there."

"You've been?" Whistler sounded surprised as Alex nodded his head. "Small world," Whistler responded when it became clear Alex wasn't going to answer him. "So what are you doing in Panama?"

"That's a long story," Alex said, shifting slightly on the bed as he kept moving his hand to and from his mouth as Whistler clicked his fingers.

"You're an agent, right?" Whistler said, pointing to Alex. "I was watching that Scofield and I was trying to figure out where I had seen him before…and then you…you're the one hunting him down."

"Small world." Alex concluded, flashing a sarcastic smile as Whistler scratched his nose.

"What you doing then? Are you trying to get him out of here?" he asked.

"That's not really what I do anymore," Alex said, not in the mood to talk to the man sat opposite him as the man nodded his head.

"So what is he about? Scofield?"

Alex laced his fingers together, pushing his hands forward and stretching as he spoke back. "Why do you want to know?" he enquired.

"Just intrigued," he answered back. "Just like to know the kind of people I'm hanging around with."

Alex thought for a second, tilting his head to the side. "I suppose that depends why you're dealing with him," Alex responded.

"As I said, you never know when-"

"-You'll need a friend," Alex interrupted, eyeing Whistler with caution as he did so and the man watched him back, both of them clearly wondering what the others game was. But Alex wasn't in the mood for games. He kept on talking. "The thing about Scofield is that he will do anything for people who he cares for…loves…but if he doesn't care then…you can fill in the blanks."

"Yes, I can," Whistler responded. "So I guess you ended up on the wrong side."

"Hm," Alex grunted and Whistler stood up, hands on his hips as he began to move to the doorway.

"I just wanted to come by to-"

"-You came by because you wanted information on Scofield, but that's fine," Alex said. "You do what you got to do and I'll do what I've got to do."

Whistler nodded and then began to move off, but he clicked his fingers once more and his hand went around the bars of the cell as he looked back to Alex.

"I saw you in visitation this morning with a woman," he told him. "Good looking…friend of yours?"

Alex gulped and then looked away, remembering how he had treated Clara earlier on. He said nothing for a second as Whistler continued to watch him. He only spoke after a second, brows rising on his forehead as he did so.

"My only one."

…

Standing on the balcony of the hotel room, Clara's hands held her cell phone tightly as she thought of her earlier conversation with Alex. He had not been himself. He had not been the Alex she knew. Then again, addicts never were the same when they were going cold turkey. Tossing the phone from one hand to the other, Clara looked into the distance where she could see the sea.

If Michael was breaking out this Whistler then there was a chance he could break Alex out. Of course, Clara knew that chance was slim. Michael hated Alex. He hated him for everything he had done to him and she did not blame him for that. Besides, the chances of escaping were slim. If Michael made it out of the prison walls then he would most certainly be shot.

Clara took a deep breath. Did she try and persuade Michael to help Mahone? Or would she be wasting her time? Closing her eyes as she leant on the railing, she knew her answer. Opening her eyes and typing in a number in her phone, she dialled it and waited for someone to answer.

"Hello? Can I speak to an Agent Lang, please?"

…

Night was slowly falling over the prison and Alex had barely moved from his bunk. He had paced in between the beds a few times, his hands tugging at his hair as he tried not to think about the way his stomach was churning. He couldn't be ill. He couldn't be ill and have people stare at him.

And so he went for a walk, knowing who he wanted to seek out. He found him quickly, standing by a window covered in bars, his long grey top covered in sweat at the collar. Resting an arm on the wall, he looked outside as he spoke.

"How are you, Michael?" he wondered from him.

"Better than you, I'd guess."

Alex chuckled and looked over to the man. "That's fascinating," Alex said, "because I admit, I am pretty nervous over everything, but you…you're very calm inside of here."

Michael took a deep breath as Alex continued to look around at the people around them, making sure they weren't looking, but then he looked back to Michael, staring at him right in the eye as he spoke.

"Is that because you don't intend to stay for too long? What is it? You've got a check out date all planned?"

"That's none of your business, Alex," Michael said. "I told you when we came in here that there was nothing for us to discuss."

Michael tried to move off, but Alex was quick, moving to stand his way and block him. "But I have a theory. You see, I think The Company wanted you down here in Panama, but they wanted you in here…and for some completely weird reason, you really care about Whistler. By the way, the feeling is completely mutual. He cares too. So, here we go, you have some special talent to The Company which means they want you alive. Any idea what that special talent is, Michael? Something to do with breaking out of places, perhaps?"

Michael remained calm as Alex's voice continued to verge on the end of hysteria. He looked over to him, gaze even and eyes narrowed as he spoke back to Alex.

"I think you should find another pill because you're sounding crazy." Michael declared.

"So if I had killed him…Whistler…then you wouldn't have cared?" Alex demanded, eyes wide as he moved closer to Michael's face.

He began to walk off then, but Michael spoke up. "I think the question is: would The Company care? What would they do to you? To the ones you care about…to Clara?"

Alex moved forwards again as he spoke her name, grabbing hold of Michael by the collar before pushing him against a wall, his arm going over his throat as Michael remained still, knowing that Alex wouldn't hurt him. He didn't have it in him in this place. Besides, if Michael offered him a chance out then he wouldn't do anything to jeopardise that.

"How dare you even mention her name," Alex snarled. "After what you did…"

"I didn't know she was there," Michael defended himself. "I thought that she was smart enough to stay away from you."

"Yeah, well, she was with me," Alex said, eyeing Michael with suspicion, "and she was shot and arrested…but now she won't go. She won't leave this godforsaken place because she's trying to get me out."

"She won't succeed," Michael said back to him. "Besides, even if she can save you from this hell hole then she can't save you from yourself."

Alex released Michael then and took a step back as he watched him stand up, hands going to his hips.

"What is it, Alex?" Michael demanded from him. "I met her and she is nothing like you. Lincoln seems convinced that she has some deep feelings for you…feelings that will probably end up getting her killed."

Shaking his head, he refused to listen to anymore from Michael, but the man just kept on going.

"Clara is a good person," Michael said. "I know that. I could see it when I met her…so you drag her into all of this and end up getting her to protect you-"

"-Just like you and Tancredi?" Alex demanded from Michael, taking one step closer to him. "Hm, Michael? What about Sara? She chased around after you when you escaped and she even helped you escape…that overdose? What? Do you not feel bad about that?"

Michael felt his hands ball into fists as he came to toe to toe with Alex, looking at him as he spoke, his voice low and each word pronounced and deliberate. "You never speak of Sara again. What we have is different to what you and Clara have."

"Yeah? And why is that?"

"Because I love her," Michael answered him. "Because I would do anything for her. You only use, Clara…use her to get what you want."

Alex arched his brows. "Is that what you think?" he wondered from Michael. "You've got no idea…did your brother tell you what I did? Did he tell you why Clara is free right now and not locked up in some shithole?"

Michael remained silent. He knew that Clara was free, but Lincoln had not said how she was free. Mahone stepped back then, a smile of disbelief on his face as he sucked in a deep breath.

"She is free because I took the blame for your little setup," he informed Michael in a dark tone. "I took the blame to save her."

Looking away, Michael kept his hands on his hips as Alex walked backwards and away from him.

"Maybe get your facts straight before you jump to conclusions, Michael," Alex concluded and began to move deeper into the prison, hands holding the back of his neck as he went and thought of what Clara was doing on the outside.

…