Chapter 2!

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

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Lincoln drove the car back towards the hospital while Michael sat in the back with Sucre. "It doesn't look too bad." Michael said, trying to be comforting.

Sucre grinned weakly. "Oh, sure. I'm fine, I just can't stop bleeding. You know, I've been betrayed before, but never literally stabbed in the back."

Michael returned the smile. "Don't talk so much. Save your energy." Sucre started to counter that, but thought better of it and remained silent.

"We're about five minutes out." Lincoln announced. Michael nodded.

"Hang on." He ordered Sucre.

"You ain't getting rid of me that easily." Sucre retorted. Michael smirked faintly.

Suddenly, Lincoln swore sharply and brought the car to an abrupt halt on the side of the road. "Why are we stopping?" Michael questioned, looking at Lincoln in the rearview mirror. Lincoln's dark eyes stared back at him.

"Wait." Was the older man's response. Seconds later, a police car sped past them, sirens blaring. They continued on after a moment, but were forced to stop again less than a minute later by an ambulance. They repeated this process three more times for a second ambulance and two more police cars. It took almost ten minutes for all of this to transpire, and by now, Sucre wasn't trying to crack jokes anymore.

"How's he doing?" Lincoln asked, looking back at them.

Michael glanced a Sucre, who was lying on the seat, eyes shut, then back at his brother. "He's okay." Michael replied, but shook his head. Lincoln nodded, and increased their speed.

Ten minutes after that, they stopped in the back of the parking lot of the hospital. "Michael… I don't feel so great." Sucre moaned, eyes still shut.

"I know." Michael replied.

"Very tired… and a little dizzy."

"Don't worry. We're at the hospital." Michael said, consolingly, as Sucre began praying fervently under his breath in Spanish.

Lincoln swore again, without warning. Michael looked up at him questioningly. Lincoln pointed to the entrance to the emergency room, where two ambulances and three police cars were parked. Michael swore also. "The goddamned county morgue must be here." Lincoln said. Michael nodded. "What now? Sucre is going to die if he doesn't see a doctor real soon."

"Go park about a block away." Michael instructed, the beginnings of a plan starting to form. Lincoln obliged, Sucre muttering in the back about Maricruz.

The car came to a stop in front of a drugstore that appeared to be closed for the night. Lincoln pulled the keys out of the ignition and turned to face Michael expectantly.

"One of us runs to the hospital, to the entrance. Doctors and nurses are always coming and going. We find one, and explain that our friend is bleeding and we ran out of gas. Persuade them to come, out of their own free will. They stitch up Sucre, and depending on how that goes, we'll take the doctor back or take him with us." Michael said, outlining his plan.

Lincoln nodded. "It's good, but it's risky."

"Which ever one of us goes might not come back."

"One of us goes back to jail or dies. And then Sucre dies."

"And then Sucre dies." Michael repeated. Both of them glanced at the Puerto Rican, who was looking oddly pale. Michael looked back at Lincoln. "I know it's a lot to ask, more than I have a right to ask for, but would you be willing to go so that I can stay with him? In case…"

Lincoln nodded, cutting him off. "I'll go." He handed the keys to Michael and opened the door, stepping out. "I'll be back."

Michael nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Lincoln."

"I still owe you one." Lincoln replied gruffly, referring to how Michael spared him the death penalty. He shut the door, and took off at a run towards the hospital.

It only took a few minutes for Lincoln to reach the hospital. The emergency vehicles were still parked in front of the entrance to the emergency room, so Lincoln stood a couple yards away from them, out of the light. He began to pace as the minutes ticked by. Lincoln glanced at his watch. It was a little after ten. What if the shifts didn't end until eleven, and he had to wait almost an hour before somebody came out? By then, Lincoln knew that Sucre would be dead and his own security could very well be compromised. He kicked a wall in frustration.

Fortunately for Lincoln, at approximately ten twenty, a blonde woman slowly trudged out of the building, a plain messenger bag slung across her slumping shoulders. "Excuse me!" Lincoln called frantically. She turned towards him.

"What?" She asked, perhaps a bit more sharply than the situation called for. Lincoln noticed that all signs of weariness had abruptly vanished.

"My friend. He's bleeding badly."

"Where is he?"

"In the car."

"So help him inside. They can take care of him there."

"No, no, our car broke down a block from here, and we're afraid to move him. He has a knife stuck in his back." Lincoln insisted.

"Look, you're just going to have to take him inside. They'll have to do x-rays, run some tests to make sure that the knife didn't hit or sever anything important." The woman replied firmly.

Lincoln glanced at the doors, and saw two police officers walking down the hall, away from the busy emergency room lobby towards their cars. He turned his attention back towards the woman. "Are you a doctor?" The blonde nodded. "Please, he's bleeding. We can't get him in here in time. He'll die."

There was a paused as the woman considered Lincoln. She sighed. "All right. I'll sew him up, but then I'm gone. I just got off a thirty-six hour shift. Let me go get supplies…" The woman said, caving in. Lincoln nodded, moving back into the shadows as the police left the building.

A few minutes later, she returned, pulling on a white coat. "Got it." She said. "Let's go."

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Back in the car, Michael was staring at Sucre, who still had his eyes shut. "Michael?" Sucre called out.

"I'm here." Michael replied, unmoving.

"I'm dying, aren't I?"

Michael was silent for a moment. "We're finding a doctor."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Don't talk. Save your energy. Lincoln went to go get a doctor right now."

"Michael, please, tell me."

Michael gave a frustrated sigh. "It doesn't look so good right now, Fernando. But Lincoln'll be back any minute with someone who can help."

"I'm dying anyway, and you all are risking exposure to try and save me. I'm touched, really." Sucre said, mustering a slight eye roll. "It means a lot that you would do this for me, but I think you both better go. Just leave me here, and go on."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "They say that drowning is one of the worst ways to die, and if I went through so much effort to spare you that death, I'm not going to let you die so soon."

Sucre gave a weak laugh, before falling silent. A few moments later, he spoke again. "If Lincoln doesn't get back in time, or for whatever reason I go anyway, can you give a message from me to Maricruz?"

Michael nodded. "Sure." He added, when he realized that Sucre's eyes were still shut.

Sucre swallowed hard. "Tell her that I love her, and I love the baby, and that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything." His voice cracked a bit from emotion at the end.

"I'm not telling her that." Michael said.

Sucre opened one eye in shock. "What?! You said you'd give her my message. That's my message!"

Michael grinned faintly. "I'm not telling her. You are." Sucre lifted his head slightly, and saw Lincoln sprinting back towards the car. A woman wearing a white coat was close behind him.