He was surprised at how easy it had been to tell her and how forgiving she had been. With her stubborn, headstrong nature he expected her to yell and scream at him, to tell him she never wanted to see him again. Instead, he was sitting on the examination table the next day while Sara prepared his insulin shot.

The best part was, it was like nothing had changed.

"How are you?" he asked softly, feeling much more open to her than he had originally. She flashed him a content, if shaky smile.

"Been thinking," she answered. She'd decided that if she wanted him to be honest with her, she had to be honest with him.

"About?" Their tones were low and intimate, something that Sara felt she didn't mind all that much. Any other time she would have worried about the close contact and personal tones, but after the revelations of the previous night, it was nice to know he hadn't reverted back to being detached.

"You, Lincoln… your plan." She was standing in front of him, preparing to administer the shot. Thus, Michael allowed his hand to rest on her hip under her lab coat.

"You're not going to be around when we leave," he told her and though his tone brooked no argument, he would have been upset if she didn't fight back.

"Where's here?" she asked, taking her sweet time, enjoying the feel of his hand.

"At Fox River, anywhere close to this building."

"Michael…"

"No." His hand had tightened reflexively on her hip with the increased insistence in his voice. Sara took a deep breath letting it out slowly.

"Why do you get to choose? Shoulder." He pulled off his shirt wincing slightly as the burn pulled at his skin.

"I shouldn't have told you…"

"Because it's dangerous, I know," she replied, moving to dab at the red mark. "But if it didn't matter to me I wouldn't have pressured you."

"Sara…" She met his eyes, defiance and determination written in their hazel depths.

"People have been making decisions for me for my entire life, Michael. I need to make one."

"Why this one?" Michael groaned, and though Sara was aware he was groaning to himself, she felt the need to answer. She'd thought about this conversation late into the previous night, after he'd left, and up until she'd seen him walk through the infirmary doors.

"Because this one affects my life as much as yours," she told him softly. That shocked him. His eyes met hers with curiosity and wonder.

"What?"

"If you get out of here," she explained quietly, "who's left? It would mean letting you go." He caught her hand, the one not holding the gauze she was using to remove the excess skin on his burn.

"I'll come back for you," he promised her simply. However, she shook her head.

"It's not enough," she told him, removing her hand from his to continue her work.

"It has to be enough," he insisted. "I'm not going to risk you along with everyone else. Especially not with everyone else."

"I know it's hard, Michael, but you might want to try normal English," she teased.

"People are after Lincoln. They'll stop at nothing to have him as the scapegoat for Steadman's 'murder'. Not only that but the people that are coming along when we break out…"

"There's more of you?"

"A crew of us," he confirmed for her softly.

"And I'm in danger?"

"I don't want you around these men, Sara."

"For God sakes, Michael!" she exclaimed softly. Stepping back, away from the distracting man and his hands she busied herself with cleaning up the supplies.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Still, she didn't turn to face him. Instead, she continued to move around, making sure to keep her distance from him. He allowed her to keep her distance, not moving from where he was sitting on the bed. Finally, she stopped and turned.

"How long?" Michael was rolling down his sleeve and looked up, surprised at the question.

"I beg your pardon?" She couldn't face him again, turning and bracing her hands on the table behind her.

"How long? When are you leaving?" She didn't know why she was so adamant about it. It was difficult for her to think about going through her days without seeing him in the infirmary. Since they'd exchanged 'surrogate' I love yous the previous day, she'd allowed herself to dream, more so than she had when they were stuck in their rut of unresolved sexual tension.

Michael couldn't tell her the exact day. She would be working days, like she always did, so she wouldn't, or shouldn't, be around when they left. It was the main reason he wasn't going to tell her anything.

"I don't want to lie to you again, Sara. I won't tell you." Her head dropped forward to her chest.

"I'm sorry," he told her softly as he left.

It was a couple of days later that she heard about them leaving. Her heart constricted painfully as she thought of them. She truly believed Michael would have thought things out and did truly believe that he would be okay.

She managed to hide herself when they questioned her about what she knew. Of course, Michael hadn't told her enough, only that he was going to break out. She had no problem feeling good about telling the truth. She couldn't help smiling, however, as she went through her afternoon work, realizing that Michael had deliberately not told her anything, knowing her hatred of lying.

"Hey Sara?" Katie poked her head in the examination room where Sara was replacing things that officers had moved around in their search for clues.

"Yeah?" she responded absently.

"You going to move the flower on your desk?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The flower on your desk."

"Is it real?" If it was real, Sara was sure it was from her father for some reason or another. If it wasn't…

"No." Her heart leapt back into her throat, a place she'd only recently felt it vacate. She dropped what she was picking up and rushed to her desk, delicately picking up the folded rose. Under it, as she expected, was a note.

Sara,

You know why I didn't tell you anything about our plans. I promise to come back for you.

-- Michael

She couldn't stop the smile that crept over her face. She trusted him to come back for her. Making sure to put the note and the flower into one of her locked drawers before getting back to work.