Clara didn't know what to do. She had called Agent Lang and told her that she was willing to tell her the truth, but she wanted her to come to Panama and make assurances that Alex would be freed from Sona. She had told her that she would have to bring Sullins, the agent in charge of Internal Affairs. Clara had agreed, remembering how Alex had mentioned not liking the man, but she doubted he could hate him more than Wheeler.

She hadn't been to the prison in over a day, unable to go back and look at Alex in that cage. She knew he would still be going through withdrawals and she didn't want to see that. She didn't want to listen to him begging her to get him drugs. He needed to know that he had something worth fighting for. He had something that would get him through this period.

Knowing exactly what would do the trick, she was about to search for Pam Mahone's number, but she closed her phone. Pam had no idea that her husband was incarcerated and Clara doubted Alex was the one who wanted her to know. But the truth was, Clara knew that the only way of him getting through would be with her help; knowing that she was outside waiting for him. That would be incentive.

Pacing her room, Clara slumped down her bed, hand moving down her side and feeling the bandage over her wound that was hidden beneath her dress. If she was going to be honest, the gunshot had hurt like hell for a while, but she was slowly forgetting about it. Instead she let her thoughts go back to Alex. She spent a lot of her time thinking about him.

The more she thought about him the more she thought about what Lincoln had said to her that day in the warehouse. Shaking her head, she stood up and brushed her fingertips through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and pulling the bobble from her wrist to it, securing it.

"I'm not in college," Clara mumbled to herself, trying to convince herself what she was saying was honest. "Having a crush on Alex Mahone…ridiculous…you know what the man's done, Clara."

She continued her pacing before dropping her hands to her hips. "And you also defended him. You're still trying to save him. That does not mean you fancy him."

She stopped her pacing, standing in front of the floor length mirror built into the wardrobe as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Taking in her appearance, she shook her head and looked herself in the eye. "Besides, how could he ever fancy someone like me?"

…

He had kept quiet as he conducted his meeting with Susan. The woman had sat there and told him how she had been unimpressed with his rescue attempts. Lincoln had set out the previous night on a rescue mission to save his son and Sara, but his plot had been foiled. It had been because he had been caught in the act that Sara's head now sat in a box in the basement of the hotel. Lincoln had broken down, unable to tell Michael when he had gone to visit him that morning. He had gone to see Susan afterwards and she had told him how it had been foolish of him to go against them. She had tried to tell him how she had not wanted to take Sara's head from her body. But Lincoln couldn't listen to her.

He knew she had the upper hand and she had his son in her custody. He had told her how he would do anything she wanted and she had said that was the wise option. He had told her how Michael had a plan, but they needed the gravedigger who worked at the prison on their side.

But then she requested the bird book. She requested the real book, knowing that he had given her a fake one. He had given it to her, telling her that he didn't understand it anyway. The rest of the day had been spent putting the plan Michael was conducting into action.

Of course, Michael had no idea about the situation on the outside. He was still stuck on the inside and he had asked about whether or not Mahone had taken the fall to save Clara. Lincoln had shrugged, acting as though it was nothing as he agreed that was what had happened. But Michael knew that Mahone was sniffing around. He wasn't stupid, even though he was suffering from drug withdrawals.

That was why he went to Mahone that day and told him he was in. He found him in his cell, seeing how his hair was flat on his head and sweat pouring from his forehead and running down his face.

"I was thinking about what we discussed yesterday," Michael had spoken. "And you're in."

Mahone looked shocked for a brief second. "I'm in?"

"Unless you don't want to be?" Michael retorted, resting his arm over the top bunk as Mahone leant to the side of it.

Nodding, he gulped once and spoke; "So what's the plan?"

"I'm on it," Michael said, "but I need you to do something in the meantime."

"What?" Mahone wondered.

"I need a pen," Michael said.

Tilting his head in a confused manner, Alex stepped closer to Michael. "A pen?"

"That's what I said," Michael responded.

"Why?"

"I need to alter some documents and it needs to be a black pen," Michael answered him. "But do you know what else I need? I need you to get it together because right now you're attracting some unwanted attention in here with your fidgety attitude."

Alex shook his head, almost as though he was trying to shake off his problems. But he nodded at Michael and agreed before stating that he could get himself under control. Michael didn't look convinced about that, but Alex had simply turned away and let his legs carry his body to move to the wall, holding it for a moment before Bellick disturbed him.

He had tried to get on his side, but Alex had told him to go away. He had only wanted to know what him and Scofield had been discussing earlier. Alex had told him to mind his own business before going in search of a black pen, looking around frantically. But then the hallucinations had started.

He kept on seeing him everywhere he went. He was in his head, telling him not to trust Scofield. He was sat on bunks in cells, looking at him with those questioning eyes. Alex tried to shake it off, his head moving back and forth as he continued on his hunt for his pen. It wasn't real. None of it was real and he knew that. He just had to keep on pushing.

…

The next time Clara visited Alex, she had been expecting him to be even more edgy than when she had last seen him. She had prepared herself, keeping her face stoic and her eyes covered with her sunglasses as she watched him make the all too familiar walk towards her. But she saw something different. He wasn't shaking. He was almost calm as he stood before her. Gulping, he managed to look her in the eye without letting his eyes flitter around.

And then she knew. Clara was no fool. If Alex had no access to drugs then he would still be tetchy. It didn't take a day to get over the withdrawal symptoms. She knew that he had been lying to her. Biting down on her tongue, she turned to glance up to the sun, her cheeks tinting red as neither of them spoke.

Alex knew that she knew. He knew that Clara was observant. She used to be an investigative journalist; it was in her job to read people and pick up on anything suspicious. She was like Alex in that manner.

But she didn't know how desperate he had been. He had been seeing Haywire, unable to block the man's image from his mind and complete his job. He had struggled to get through the day without wanting to curl into a ball and scream. But he had to be strong. Michael had given him a task.

"You're an idiot," was all that Clara offered when she finally looked at him, but he couldn't see her eyes thanks to the sunglasses she wore. "So what is it? Hmm? I knew the prison system was corrupt so I shouldn't be shocked you managed to find something."

"You have no idea," Alex said to her and she did step forward then, pointing at him as her eyes narrowed.

"I know exactly what it is like, you selfish arsehole," she spat at him. "Do you think this is the answer? It was a quick fix. It isn't going to help you in the long run. It's just going to hurt you and everyone who cares about you."

"Yeah?" Alex asked her. "Well I'm not seeing many of those people around here."

Clara chewed down on her tongue, keeping her thoughts to herself before shaking her head and remembering why she had come to visit him.

"I called Agent Lang," she said and saw the shock on his face as his mouth fell open and his eyes widened. "She is coming down to Panama and I am going to tell her everything…she is bringing Sullins down too. I think they're looking to strike a deal."

"You had no right to do that," Alex seethed at her and she finally pulled her sunglasses from her face and looked him dead in the eye, refusing to back down or show him any form of emotion other than anger. "You're not…Christ, Clara…"

"What?" Clara demanded from him. "I am trying to get you out of here. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes," he nodded with haste, "but not like that. I…Michael has a plan…"

He watched as she faltered for a second, the mask she was trying so hard to wear failing her as she let her teeth chew her lip and her eyes hold some kind of worry. Moving to the fence, Alex wrapped his hands around it as he spoke.

"You know."

She took a moment to compose herself and she shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

"I know," she said. "His brother told me, but I didn't think he would ever have told you about it."

"He did and you didn't," Alex said and Clara sneered.

"Because the chances of him making it out of here are slim," she hissed at him, her eyes flittering over his face as she took in his dishevelled appearance. "You know that as well as I do. So what? He gets into no man's land and then what? He gets shot…you'd get shot…"

"Getting shot is better than spending years locked up in a cell."

"Don't say that."

"Why not?" Alex snapped back. "This isn't your life on the line, Clara, so whatever you told Lang…just tell her I'm not interested in a deal. I'm not interested in whatever her or that arsehole Sullins is offering me."

"I won't do that," Clara responded, chin held high and in defiance.

"Fine, then I'll tell them when they come here," Alex said. "You had no right to do that, Clara. Going to them…thinking you know best about me…when you know nothing. You know nothing at all."

Clara scoffed. "Well you've certainly changed your tune," she informed him. "What was it when we were locked in that holding cell? How you cared about me? Or what about the other times when you told me I was the only one who understood?"

Pushing his hands through his hair, he felt himself continue to grow with anger.

"What does it matter?" he asked, hands moving to flap by his side as he began to move from one foot to the other. "You're not my wife, Clara. You're not someone who should be making decisions for me…you're just someone I've tried to protect…maybe Lincoln was right with what he said, hmm? Maybe you've begun to have some deeper feelings? Is that why you won't leave me alone?"

Backing away one step, Clara shook her head, her hands shaking as she spoke, her voice faltering. "You're flattering yourself," she told him.

"Yeah, well, maybe it explains why you're always sniffing around. I get it…I'm the only person in your lonely existence," Alex said and he knew as soon as he had spoken that he was being harsh and unnecessary.

Pulling her sunglasses onto her eyes, Clara concealed herself from him as she felt moisture begin to pool there and she pointed to him once more.

"And you?" she asked of him. "Why would I care so deeply for a man who talks to me with such contempt when all I have done is try to help him? Why would I want to care for someone who is quite clearly an addict? Do you forget, Alex? I know addicts. You say something horrid one minute and the next you're apologising. Well you know what? Forget it. You can deal with this mess on your own."

Turning on her heel, Clara began to move away from him, refusing to stand there and listen to anything else come from his mouth. She let herself sign out before she climbed into the cab and felt the tears begin to fall down her face.

…

Lincoln had finally put the plan into place. Granted, shooting the gravedigger had not actually been his initial plan, but once Susan discovered that he just wanted more money for letting Sucre take his place, she soon put an end to that. Besides, the gravedigger had recognised Sofia from her time visiting the prison and he had grown suspicious. Sucre was currently in the room sleeping and Sofia had gone back home while Lincoln had gone to the only place he could think of.

Sitting in the bar, he ordered himself a beer before looking around. That was when he saw her. She was sat on one of the tall chairs on the balcony outside, a large glass of white wine in her hand and the bottle on the tall table in front of her. She was looking at the view, her long hair tied in a bobble on the top of her head.

She had her hands wrapped around the wine glass, her elbows bent on the table. Lincoln picked up his beer and carried it outside, making himself known as he motioned to the chair opposite hers and she nodded her head, remaining silent as Lincoln took the seat and a swig of his beer, unbuttoning another button on his white shirt and shrugging out of his blazer.

"Your brother isn't really going to break out with Alex, is he?" Clara said in a low voice as Lincoln watched her, but she kept her eyes on the skyline in front of her.

"Probably not," Lincoln answered honestly. "Why? Are you going to run off and tell him?"

She scoffed then, taking two long gulps of the wine before putting the empty glass down and refilling it.

"I have no intention of going to see Alex anytime soon," Clara declared and Lincoln cocked his head.

"Why's that?"

She didn't answer him. Instead all she could do was look in front of her before she felt her eyes begin to water again. But she wasn't going to cry. She had shed too many tears over Alexander Mahone that afternoon. He didn't deserve anymore and she wasn't going to give him any. She knew that what he had said was because of the drugs. No doubt he would probably apologise to her, but she didn't know if she wanted to hear it.

Lincoln became convinced that Clara wasn't going to answer him and so he spoke to her.

"Sara's dead," he said, simply glad that he could get the confession off of his chest.

She did look at him then, horror on her face as Lincoln took another drink of his beer, relishing the taste and taking his time to look out over the skyline before them. Clara picked up her wine and drained the glass once more before speaking.

"I'm sorry," she said, her tone genuine. "I know I only met her once and even then I didn't know her…but I know she…she seemed kind."

"She was," Lincoln nodded in agreement. "She was the one who helped us get out of Fox River. Without her then I'd probably be dead too. Really, I owe her my life…"

Clara didn't know what more to say about that; instead she kept on sipping her wine as she thought of Sara Tancredi. The woman still had her entire life in front of her. She had been younger than Clara, barely even thirty. She had fallen in love with the wrong man. Clara would have scoffed at the thought, yet it did not seem appropriate. She knew all about falling in love with the wrong man. Tom was a good example of that.

"So how is the plan going?" Clara wondered and Lincoln shrugged.

"On track, I guess," he told her, "but Michael doesn't know about Sara."

"Why not?" Clara enquired.

"Because if he did then I don't know if he would break this Whistler guy out," Lincoln said, "and they've still got my son."

"Your son is his nephew," Clara reminded him. "I'm sure he would still do it. Besides, who is this Whistler guy? I never had a chance to ask Alex today."

"Some fisherman," Lincoln shrugged. "Apparently he took some guy on an expedition of some kind. Anyway, then some people came and demanded to know where he had taken them. Michael thinks it must have been The Company who came, but he isn't one hundred per cent sure. Anyway, that bird book of his acts as a logbook. He says it's the only way he can retrace his steps and take The Company to where he took that guy."

"And you believe that?" Clara wondered of him and he shrugged at her.

"I've heard weirder," he said and Clara did nod at hearing that.

"So, why is this guy so important? What was he doing on this fishing trip?"

"Taking some samples of the water," Lincoln said.

"So why is that important?" Clara asked.

"Again, no idea," Lincoln said, "and I'm struggling to care. All I want is my son back and The Company can have this guy. Anyway, that's all I know so far. I take it you've had no break through with thinking about who you might know in the organisation?"

"No," Clara said, popping her lips. "No idea and I'm not sticking around for much longer. I'll be gone soon enough…probably arrested."

"For what?" he wondered of her.

She took a deep breath. "I called Internal Affairs of the FBI," she told him. "They're coming to try to strike a deal with Alex, but he's telling them that he doesn't want a deal. He seems convinced that he can break out with Michael…but…I'm going to tell them about Shales. They were digging around when I was still in the States, no doubt they know everything now so that's me screwed."

"But you didn't shoot him."

"No," Clara said, "just helped hide his body and cover his murder up. I'd imagine you get sent to jail for that…besides, I told Alex I would take the blame for killing Shales to protect him."

"I wouldn't," Lincoln told her and she shrugged her shoulders at him.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. "I still blame myself for where he is right now, even after what he said…the worst part is I know that he didn't mean it. I know that he didn't mean to hurt me, but he did because maybe he was right. Maybe he was right and I do care too much…but the way he said it…as if he was mocking me…as if anyone would ever want someone like me…"

Lincoln took another drink of his beer, shaking his head as he heard her speak. He watched as she drank her wine again, sipping on it this time as she bowed her head, taking a deep breath as she kept the glass tightly between her hands.

"He isn't right," Lincoln informed her. "There is nothing wrong with you…him, on the other hand…"

"I know," Clara said, "and I said that to him, but it still hurts and I don't know why."

"Because, for some reason beyond my understanding, you were falling for him," Lincoln said and Clara began to shake her head in protest again.

"No," she said stubbornly. "I wasn't…I mean…I care about what happens to him, but that's it…there's nothing else."

"You're sure about that?" Lincoln wondered.

"No," Clara admitted honestly, taking another drink of her wine. "But perhaps he was right. Perhaps I only cared because I am lonely…washed up and lonely."

Lincoln didn't exactly know what to say back to her as she continued to drink and he sat to her other side, watching her down the liquid as if there was no tomorrow. He bit down on his tongue as they both looked over the skyline before them and drank in silence, drowning their sorrows until they could be drowned no more.

…

Michael had taken a new cell and Mahone knew exactly what that meant when he had seen that he had left behind the black pen he had frantically searched to find. Alex was no fool. He knew when he was being betrayed and Michael Scofield was most certainly betraying him. That was why Alex had cornered him, his finger jabbing at his chest and warning him that he was part of this escape plan, whether or not he liked it.

Watching him with beady eyes, Michael had seen how he was acting in a much more composed manner. Clearly he had found some kind of drug to tide him over. But then what happened when the drugs stopped? Would he be able to carry on? Besides, who was supplying him, considering there was no money? Michael didn't ask. He didn't exactly care.

As night fell over Sona, Michael watched as Alex sat down on his bunk. He had been searching for Whistler, but the man seemed to be rather elusive when he needed to be.

"If you're in then you need to keep quiet," Michael warned Mahone.

"This isn't Fox River," Alex responded, remaining seated on his bunk as Michael entered, arms folded over his chest. "You could've formed a conga line out of there with the amount of people you broke out."

"Yeah, well, I don't intend to make the same mistake here," Michael said, flexing his fingers as he looked around the cell. "So just keep your mouth shut and you're in."

"Got it," Alex mumbled.

Michael tested Alex for a moment, looking for a flicker of emotion in his face. "My brother told me it was true…what you did for Clara."

"What of it?" Alex asked, turning to look to Michael as he spoke her name.

Alex could feel himself begin to sweat as he thought about Clara. He had been cruel to her that afternoon. He had said things he regretted and he wanted to tell her that. He had said something similar to her before, prior to when he had left for Panama. She had forgiven him, but Alex didn't know how forgiving she was feeling right now.

The worst part was that Alex had only said it because he wanted to get a reaction from her. That made him feel even more pathetic. He wanted to see how she reacted and she hadn't disappointed. Of course, he knew that he had made her angry and her retaliation had been right. Why would she care for someone like him? A drug addict and a killer. He was nothing more than that so he wasn't sure where he got off slating her and asking who would even love her. The problem with Clara was that Alex imagined it would be easy to love her. He had no doubt about that. She was kind, always putting him before anyone else. She was attractive, full of intelligence and not afraid to voice her opinion.

He needed to find some way to apologise to her because what he had said had been too much. He didn't even know where it had come from. He should have bit down on his tongue. He was just angry that she had called Lang when he had asked her not to, but he knew why she had done it. She thought that it was the safest course of action and he could see why if he had to be honest with himself.

"Just that…" Michael said. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Yeah," Alex chuckled, his fist covering his mouth as he let his mind wander back to her. "Well she's better off without me."

"Lincoln said that she isn't going," Michael responded, "which could prove useful in the long run."

"Why?" Alex wondered.

"Because there's someone in The Company who cares about her," Michael said with a small nod. "Keeping her around could have its benefits if we need…well…leverage."

Standing up, Alex shook his head at Michael. "You're not using her."

Moving closer to Alex, Michael dropped his hands by his side, his fingers drumming on his thighs as he looked to Alex. "If I need to use her to free Sara then I will," Michael warned him. "I have no intention of hurting her, but just be warned that if I need her for my advantage then I have no problem of doing so."

"Then we have a bigger problem than we do now," Alex responded.

"Why, Alex, some might even say you care," Michael responded, voice sarcastic as Alex turned away, not wanting to listen anymore as he went to the window, his arm resting over the sill of it.

"I care more than I should," he muttered to himself, peering out the window. "Definitely more than I should."

…

A/N: Do let me know what you think!