Chapter 17!
Sorry this wasn't up sooner; I've been really busy lately. Just one or two more chapters left :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.
The italics at the beginning signify a dream. Later, they represent T-Bag singing (just to keep it a little clearer as to who's talking).
The hut looked exactly the same as it had for years. The only difference was in the bloodstain on the floor near the center of the room, the only evidence that any humans had been in the structure in quite some time. The midday sun still beat down upon it as it had for years, the layer of filth over everything inside was still as thick.
A car was parked next to it now; another difference. The woman who owned the vehicle, along with the two men she was with, had just exited it. They stood now, blinking furiously in the harsh midday sunlight.
"You should wait inside." Michael suggested, deftly pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and positioning them on his face.
"What about you?" Sara inquired, hand hovering against her forehead, shielding her eyes somewhat from the torrent of light.
"I'll be back." He promised, wrapping his arms around her and playing with the ends of her hair with one hand.
"Nobody move!"
Michael looked up, over Sara's head, and saw Mahone, positioned on top of a small hill a few dozen yards away. A gun was in his hands, aimed at them.
"I said nobody move!" The agent shouted again. Michael hadn't even been aware that he'd been moving, but now that Alexander Mahone had drawn attention to it, he realized that he was repositioning himself so that he was in front of Sara. Michael couldn't seem to make himself stop moving, even though his brain was screaming that this was suicide.
A gun fired several bullets in quick succession. One of them hit him in the shoulder, but the bullet that affected him the most was the one that entered Sara's skull, causing her to collapse instantly. Michael caught her before she hit the ground, but her frozen, unfocused eyes indicated that she was already gone.
"Here we are again." Mahone spoke, suddenly closer. Michael frowned. He knew the agent didn't have a Spanish accent, so why was he speaking with one? "Did you hear me? We're here."
Michael's eyes flew open, and suddenly Mahone's face melted into Sucre's, and the hut transformed into the interior of the car. "What?" Michael asked, completely disoriented.
"I said we're here, Papi." Sucre answered. "You been sleeping again?"
Michael straightened, turning awkwardly in his seat. His heart rate slowed considerably when he saw Sara sitting in the back seat, staring at him. Michael looked at the car clock. 7:17 a.m.
"Where are we?"
"Bolshoi Booze." The Latin man replied, gesturing at the run-down building. Michael stared at it, goose bumps materializing on his skin.
"Michael? Is everything okay?" Sara asked, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.
Michael placed his hand over hers. "Just a dream." He replied. "Drive back to the main road."
"What? Why?" Sucre demanded.
"I have a bad feeling." Michael replied, staring off at the horizon, in the direction from which they had come. "We're going to go wait for Lincoln and Dr. Curtis by the road. I want this over with as quickly as possible."
Sucre began drove away, Michael's heart beating a little quicker than usual. It was true; in mere hours, their lives would begin to get back to usual. When they met up with Rain in an Internet café about two hours from Bolshoi Booze, the message would go out to all the major news companies worldwide. Michael had the chip with them; all they had to do was get it to Rain, and he would do the rest. They'd decided that it would be better to divide the information they were going public with (the audio clips and the articles Rain had written), in case something happened to one party.
For a few moments, as they sped across the empty terrain, he lost himself in a daydream about what he would do, when this was all over. This-breaking out and then being on the run- had been his life for so long now. For months before committing the armed robbery, he had been possessed by the plan. He hadn't had anything besides it in so long. Minimum work, no social commitments, no charity work, no dates. Nothing but the plan.
But now, now he would need to find something else. Obviously, he would start to work again. Michael doubted that his old company would hire him again, not after he abused the blueprints of Fox River so. But surely someone could use him. He'd find somewhere, that he was certain of. Michael had certainly been told enough that his background and resume were outstanding. He'd find somewhere.
And then there was Sara. Michael looked back at her for a moment. She smiled reassuringly at him. What would happen there? Things had been interesting, for lack of a better word, since they met up at the bar over a week ago. Neither was denying their feelings for the other, but having a third person around was making things difficult. Sucre meant well, Michael knew that. Sucre was quite possibly Michael's best friend, after Lincoln. But in this situation, Sucre was the third wheel in every sense of the phrase. Things would be unpredictable when they got back to Chicago, when they weren't wanted anymore. All Michael knew was what he wanted to happen. He wanted to date her, properly, like he'd always wanted. And if she didn't get sick of him, Michael wanted to propose. He was already planning it, in the back of his mind. There was this restaurant in Chicago, ridiculously expensive and over-priced, but worth it for Sara. He'd take her there. After, they'd go for a walk along the lake, still in their formal clothes. And then, just before they decided to turn around and walk back to the car, he would get down on one knee, valiantly ignoring the damp sand beneath him, and pull out the ring he'd had specially designed for her, and-
A sharp bump in the road brought his attention back to the present. Michael realized that they were back where the road split, where the dirt path to Bolshoi Booze left the main, paved road. Michael had Sucre back up several yards, and park the car behind a row of bushes from which they could see the road but also positioned in such a way that cars speeding by wouldn't notice him.
They'd have children, of course. Michael and Sara. If she wanted them, of course. Their house would be big enough, he'd be sure of that. In fact, Michael would design it himself. A piece of scrap paper resting on the dashboard caught his eye. He reached into a cup holder and withdrew a small pencil. Michael snatched up the paper, grinning, and began to sketch out the layout of their dream house while they waited.
"So you won't mind me asking when you were going to tell me about the men at the gas station?" Kate asked accusingly. "You know, the two you killed?"
"What was I supposed to do? They were going after Michael, who, in case you've forgotten, I owe a hell of a lot!" Lincoln snapped back, his grip on the wheel tightening. He wished he'd told her about them before she'd heard it on a radio news report, but he couldn't bring himself to inform her when they were on good terms, and when they weren't, they barely spoke at all.
"I was all, 'Oh, Lincoln, I'm so glad you're not a killer'!" She responded, mocking her previous attitude. "You let me believe that you were innocent!"
"Yeah, well you cheated on your fiancé! What kind of person does that?" Lincoln challenged.
The two of them had been going back and forth like this for nearly an hour now, each insulting the other in any manner they could think of. Kate had started it, with a snide remark about his driving, and things had only escalated from there. Both of them were slightly red in the face now from the heat of the argument, and each determined to outwit the other.
"That doesn't even compare!" Kate insisted. "You committed a felony."
Lincoln was about to utter a brilliant comeback when he swerved the car suddenly, swearing. His sudden stunt driving was an attempt to avoid hitting the man who had stepped into the road, waving his arms.
The car finally screeched to a halt, inches from dramatically falling into a ditch. Kate and Lincoln opened their doors and climbed out to assess the damage.
"Remember what I said about your driving skills?" Kate asked darkly, as they examined the front. Lincoln didn't reply. "I'd just like to reassert that."
"Well, well, well! What are the odds of this?" A chillingly familiar voice said, causing the hairs on the back of Kate's neck to stand straight up. She stiffened, and looked around wildly for the source. Lincoln also straightened, stepping in front of Kate, effectively blocking her from view. "Finding a familiar face way out here in the middle of nowhere? Gotta be about the same as, oh, I don't know-"
"What the hell are you doing, T-Bag?" Lincoln interrupted in a growl, not at all in the mood to deal with the perverted criminal right then.
"Now, that's real funny, 'cause I was about to ask you the same thing." T-Bag replied lightly. Lincoln stared silently at him. "Me, I'm just your commonplace hitchhiker. Through a variety of generous drivers and my two good feet, I got to where you see me now. How you got here is clear as day; you obviously have a vehicle in your possession." Lincoln crossed his arms. Suddenly T-Bag titled his head. "What's that behind you there, Sink?"
"Leave her out of this, T-Bag." Lincoln ordered, using the soft, deadly tone he reserved for those who threatened the people he cared about. "Take a walk."
"I knew we'd lay eyes on each other again, Lovely." T-Bag remarked, stepping towards them, his tongue peeking out of his mouth slightly. Kate shifted so she was clearly visible, but didn't respond, merely sending the criminal a chilly glance.
"I said take a walk." Lincoln spoke again, muscles tensing.
"The only place I'm walkin' is into your car there."
"What?"
"I'm coming with you."
"You don't even know where we're going!"
"That may be true, but it doesn't matter to me where you are driving to. Wherever you're going, I'll be more than happy to accompany you."
"No."
T-Bag and Lincoln locked eyes in a silent battle of wills, leaving Kate to shift her weight anxiously in the uncanny quiet. Suddenly T-Bag grinned, an action that set her nerves on edge. "I came from that direction." He said, pointing in the direction they were heading. Both Kate and Lincoln noticed that he seemed to be on the verge of laughter. "And unfortunately for you, I know something you don't." T-Bag paused, waiting for one of them to ask. Neither rose to the bait. "Five miles that way is a small town. Nothing grand, just a population of about five thousand." He halted again, eyes gleaming. "But even a population of five thousand needs a police station."
"You can't exactly walk into a police department either." Lincoln pointed out sharply.
T-Bag laughed now. "You've got me there. Tell me, do you happen to have a, a road map in that car of yours?" Lincoln hesitated before nodding. "Then you may be aware of the fact that there is a rest station a little less than a mile from where we stand at this very second. What that map won't tell you is that it's a shabby little place. Can't have seen decent funding in quite some time, because some spiffy politicians at the capitol consider their money to be better spent on improved schools or something equally as... important. But let me tell you what it does have: pay phones."
"What's you point?" Lincoln snapped.
T-Bag chuckled. "Clearly Scofield got the all brains in your family." Lincoln's fists turned white from clenching them so hard, but he didn't comment. "All it takes is one call. One call." He lowered his voice, holding a lone finger up to emphasize the singularity of the call. "The dispatcher will later remark that the man had a Southern accent, definitely not from around these parts; no, clearly a traveler. Oh, sure, they'll think it's strange that with a reward so large, the caller wished to remain anonymous, but they'll get over that the instant they lay eyes on who is quite possibly the most wanted man in America." His eyes flickered over to the doctor. "And his… associate." Lincoln just stared at him. "So what's it gonna be?" T-Bag asked, his patience rapidly draining away.
Lincoln glanced at Kate, knowing what he had to do, but still reluctant to do it, even after all the insults they'd traded that afternoon. She refused to look at him, opting rather to stare off into the distance. "I'm sorry." Lincoln murmured. She dismissed his apology with an irritated sigh.
"I always knew you was a reasonable man, Burrows." T-Bag was saying. "I knew you'd see things from my-"
"Shut up." Lincoln snapped, yanking a car door open. T-Bag's expression was full of mock surprise and hurt, but he obliged. Lincoln got back into the driver's seat, and T-Bag quickly claimed the remaining front seat. Lincoln was about to object to this when Kate willingly climbed into the back.
"This feels just like a regular road trip." T-Bag remarked cheerfully, buckling his seat belt and resting his feet on the dashboard.
"Don't speak." Lincoln ordered in a tone that suggested he was dead serious. T-Bag stopped speaking, now dividing his attention between examining his fingernails, staring out at the countryside that was passing by, and sending Kate suggestive looks, which she attempted to ignore, trying desperately to pretend like nothing had ever happened.
Alexander Mahone was ashamed to say that the ringing of his cell phone jolted him out of his nap. As a federal agent, he was supposed to remain on edge at all times.
Even when he'd been sitting by himself in the same car, in the same spot, for almost eight hours.
Instead, however, he'd succumbed to his tiredness, the fatigue deep within him that never seemed to disappear entirely any more. It was just supposed to be for a few minutes, but when he looked at the clock in the car as he picked up his cell, he realized it had been almost two hours.
"Mahone." He did a brilliant job not permitting any lingering traces of sleep to enter his voice.
"I need an update, Alex."
Alex rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "Nothing to report. I've been here since eight this morning, and not so much as one vehicle has come by."
Bill Kim sighed. This wasn't the sort of news he had been hoping for. "All right. Keep me updated."
"Will do." The agent replied. He woke me up just for this? Alex's boss hung up then. Alex glanced out the window, staring at the abandoned, run-down hut nearby. Maybe they weren't coming after all. "You sure this information was credible?"
"Quite sure." The other man insisted.
The car was no longer silent. Kate and Lincoln were bickering again, largely just restating their points from earlier. T-Bag was in the back, singing to himself; softly at first, but then louder. Lincoln was fairly certain now that T-Bag was inventing the lyrics as he went, considering they now seemed to be mostly a sort of commentary of their argument. Gradually, the noise rose and rose, until all three were shouting (and singing) at their maximum volumes. Kate had taken the wheel a few hours ago, and had driven ever since, reluctantly following Lincoln's instructions.
"Yeah, well don't forget about Adam!" Lincoln snapped, over T-Bag's boisterous musical talents. "Remember what you did to him?"
"Addaaaammmm, oh hey, don't know you, but Adam, looks like you got screwed over…."
"That sure carries a lot of weight coming from the murderer!"
"Sinc's credibility's gone, 'cuz who trusts a killer?" T-Bag howled, banging on a window for emphasis. He was just trying to annoy the two in the front now.
"You know damn well that I was defending Michael!"
"I can't believe this!" Kate yelled. "We were getting along perfectly fine! I thought I had found someone I could maybe be with-not just because there was no one else, but because I wanted to! And then you turn around and brush it away, like it was an emotional cobweb or something?"
"An emotional cobweb?" Lincoln repeated doubtfully, slightly startled by the abrupt change of subject from his criminal record to their relationship.
"Just an emotional cobweb, an emotional cobweb, oh, just a cobweb…." T-Bag's voice rose to an irritatingly high octave.
"Like it meant nothing!" She clarified sharply.
"It did mean something!"
"Then why the hell did you say all those things? Am I not good enough for you or something?"
T-Bag sang a string of high-pitched nonsense sounds (which Lincoln thought sounded like a dying cat). "I'm not having this conversation in front of that." He said. "We'll talk later."
"No, Lincoln, I want to talk now. Answer the damn question."
He exhaled sharply, in frustration, and stared out the window. "It wasn't that you weren't good enough, it was that you were too good. Not like that, just… you're a doctor. You're smart. You help people. You have a good life. And I don't have anything close to that."
They were both silent for a moment. Even T-Bag faltered, and stopped singing. He leaned forwards, resting his hands on their chairs. "Now, listen, I got a feeling there's something you two ain't sharin' with the class." T-Bag began. "Now, Lincoln, you understand, I gotta know if someone's messin' with the doctor there. After all, I wouldn't want anything to… happen to her." He tilted his head towards Kate, his tongue twisting eagerly. "I wouldn't want her to feel… unnecessarily threatened." T-Bag added, his mouth right next to her ear.
"Shut the hell up, T-Bag!" Lincoln shouted, twisting awkwardly and raising a fist menacingly. T-Bag held his hands up defensively, and moved back to slouch against the seat. A moment later, Lincoln said, "Turn here." Kate turned right onto a dirt road, trying to ignore the bumps.
"There's a car behind us." She announced, glancing back in the rearview mirror. Lincoln and T-Bag turned as one to look back.
"That there don't look too good." T-Bag proclaimed.
Lincoln turned back around. "It's Michael. Pull over."
Both cars stopped, kicking up some dust from the unpaved road. Michael quickly got out of his vehicle and walked towards the other one. Lincoln met him halfway. Michael wrapped his arms around his big brother, and Lincoln returned the gesture.
"In a few hours, this will all be fixed." The younger man said quietly, as if he could barely believe it. Lincoln just nodded; he couldn't seem to be able to bring himself to speak then. He was just happy to see his brother –alive- again. After a few manly back slaps, they broke apart. Lincoln and Sucre shook hands quickly, and Lincoln nodded to the doctor.
T-Bag had hung back by the car, and Kate had stood uncomfortably halfway between him and the others, knowing that she didn't belong with them, but not wanting to linger too close to her almost-rapist. Michael eventually saw her, and tilted his head, indicating that she should join them for a moment. She obliged, crossing her arms and blinking furiously to spare her eyes the glare of the setting sun.
"By this time tomorrow, you'll be home." Michael promised her. She just stared doubtfully at him. "We're taking information to a friend three hours from here. He'll leak it to the media, and then we'll take you home."
"I can find my own way." Kate said.
Michael nodded. "But it's better if you stay with us until after the news breaks."
"If you let me go now, I swear, I won't tell anyone anything, I'll-"
"You just need to stay a little longer. No one at the local sheriff's is going to believe you. They'll chuck the book at you now. It'll be a whole new ball game tomorrow morning. Just wait until then." Kate glared for a moment, before finally conceding. "Good. Now, this is where we're going…." Michael pointed a spot on a map out to Lincoln.
"What's there?"
"An Internet café from which we can spread the tape." Lincoln nodded. "Neither car seats six, so with T-Bag, we'll have to take two."
Michael and Lincoln strode away from everybody else, finalizing the plan. They returned minutes later, divided up (T-Bag, Lincoln, and Sucre in one car, Sara, Michael, and Kate in the other), and drove away.
He didn't see a vehicle. He didn't see any people. The only thing he saw was a cloud of dust. It was however the first movement he'd seen all day, by anything, living or not, and it struck him as highly suspicious. He watched for a few moments, to ensure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, before shifting the car into drive and picking up his cell phone to alert Kim of this development.
Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he was overreacting, because of the long day. But regardless, in case this was something, Mahone wasn't about to pass this up.
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