Sara and Lincoln had driven for almost half an hour to get to the place where Michael was. It was some kind of shack next to a sideway road out of Chicago, far from anything. She was sure that they would have taken much more time to get there if Lincoln wasn't going so fast. The high speed only made her more desperate. She could sense his fear, it was all over him: the tensed shoulders, the eyes that never let the road ahead, the silence. That freaky silence between them was the thing that was scaring her most. She knew Lincoln wasn't exactly a talker, he was once her patient, she remembered. He was not like his brother, who would only shut up when it was his time to aswer questions...

"Can you help him?", he asked abruptedly, taking her away from her own thoughts. And she was astonished to find out that she didn't know the aswer to that question. She had forgotten to ask herself that. She faced the window and realized it was now beginning to rain. Was it a bad or a good sign? Sara breathed heavily. Bad sign. She remembered a night when it was raining in Chicago, about fifteen years ago, whe she was fourteen and couldn't sleep because of the thunderstorms. She lived on a big house and her bedroom was on the third floor. She hated the third floor. Her dad was travelling. Her mom was probably drinking on her bedroom. As always. The storm got worse and Sara got up, wanting to be with her mom, even if she was drunk. She reached her parents' bedroom to find no one, then she just headed to the bathroom and opened the door. There she was: lying on the floor, empty eyes, blood. She was dead by the time the ambulance got there. And Sara didn't do a damn thing. Sara couldn't help her mom. Could she help Michael?

"I hope so". And she really did.

The shack was small and dirty, like it hadn't been used for many years. Sara wondered how they had discovered it, but it was a question that could wait. Lincoln quickly entered the shack and she followed him. The candle was all that they had to light up the place, so Sara couldn't see much when she first stepped in the room. But then she saw him. On a couch, half conscious, white face, trembling, covered with a blanket. He was saying words in a low tune that neither Sara or Lincoln could understand. She standed still, staring at him, suddenly paralized and feeling like the floor wasn't there anymore. He didn't look good at all. After a few seconds, his eyes found her and he stopped muttering to look at her. Michael seemed another person. Now he wasn't that Michael who had all the solutions, who could think of a plan to break out and save his brother. He wasn't that misterious Michael who had the answers but had to wait to give them. There was no grin on his lips, no light in his eyes. He was confused and scared and vulnerable. And this sight of him scared her. A lot.

Sara hadn't move yet. Lincoln was bringing her some bottles of water that he thought would be useful. He hadn't looked at his brother, maybe because he didn't want to take the risk to find him almost giving up. Because he wasn't giving up.

"Sara..." Michael was able to whisper, realizing that his throat was really sore. But he had to talk to her, to explain everything to her. She was there, really there. Seeing her had helped him to organize his thoughts and now his mind was clear. He remembered the escape, the plan, he remembered using her and then the disappointed look on her eyes when she asked him if all of that had been an act. He remembered listening Bellick describing that awful scene. He remembered that it was all his fault. And he remembered he couldn't lose her. Michael had been dreaming about this moment ever since he had escaped from Fox River and now he had the chance he wouldn't waste it. He didn't know what was going on with him, but the thing he knew well was that he wasn't going to die before he could tell her that the way he felt about her was never a lie. It was real. But Sara didn't move closer, neither speak. Michael was suddenly afraid that she was only there to say goodbye, to say that he had manipulated and used her and that she never wanted to see him again.

"Sara, I want to explain every...", he started, but Sara seemed to sense what he was thinking, because she then approached him quickly and put her hand on his forehead, caressing him. The simply touch of her smooth skin made him feel better.

"Shh, no words now Michael." she said, tears filling her eyes. She fought them. Her voice was calm and so... medical. She was trying her best to hide her feelings and emotions and fears. She had to be strong now. For both of them. But hell, she was scared of losing him.

He was breathing hard and finding very almost impossible to keep his eyes opened. It seemed that everything was moving violently around him and he started shaking again. Why it is so fucking cold in here? He felt as thought his skin was burning and freezing at the same time, it was so like dying. So this is it? Am I going to die this night? Am I leaving this thing after all the blood I put on this? He wasn't someone who got scared easily. Lincoln used to say that he had no blood on his veins, because he never lost control, no matter what the situation was. Michael was brave. He had robbed a bank, he had been thrown into prison, he had dealt with men that had murdered people for very little. And yet he wasn't scared that time. But now... now he truly was. Terrified. Terrified of losing the things he wanted. A normal life. His family happy and safe. Fishing with Lincoln and LJ. And Sara. He had so many plans for them. He couldn't help but imagine what would be like to start something with her. To have a family with her. They had kissed only once, but he knew if he was going to go somewhere with someone, that would be her.

And she was there, it wasn't a dream. She had asked Lincoln to bring her something. She was moving fast, uncovering him and her hands on his body were the thing that was giving him hope. Michael saw Lincoln get next to the couch, looking at him. He was saying something to Sara but Michael couldn't hear it. Suddenly he felt dizzy and closed his eyes. Everything went dark.

Sara knelt on the side of the couch and uncovered Michael, letting the old blanket on the floor. His white T-shirt was pressed against his stomach. Apparently it was Lincoln's only attempt to make the bleed stop and it obviously hadn't worked very well, because the shirt was already soaked with red blood.

"Lincoln, my bag". She hadn't forgotten to bring the things she thought she could need to treat him. In a hurry, she had put everything in a bag before going with Lincoln. But she wasn't prepared for this. The sight of his bleeding wound right on the left side of his waist was making her really nervous. The bullet was there, and her medical knowledge was telling her that she had to remove it. It was the correct procedure, she knew it. But God, they were in a goddamn shack, it wasn't a surgery room. There was a huge possibility of infection. Sara had to think fast and make a decision. There were very few options.

"Here it is. And some water too". Lincoln handed her bag and bottles of water.

"Thanks."

"What do you need me to do?" he asked obviously very concerned.

"It's fine. I'll ask if I need something."

She used a wet fabricto start cleaning the wound. Michael tensed at the touch and she saw his face tighten with pain. She stopped for a moment, not wanting to hurt him. But this needed to be done, so she kept going. Lincoln was standing there, wanting to do something.

"Sara." Lincoln said, alarmed. She looked to Michael and saw that he had passed out.