Sara looked him dead on blowing a stream of smoke from her lips. "What do I have to say to you to make you go away?"

Michael stared at her for a moment, and then pushing his glasses up, he backed away. "Um, I think you just said it. Take care, okay?"

Sara looked away dismissing him, the sudden movement sending things a whirl. She felt the floor move under her feet as things grew fuzzy; as it tipped and dipped like a boat in a storm. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment and then took another deep pull on her cigarette, fighting the cloud that swirled around her mingling with the smoke from her lungs.

She looked back up at the guy; Michael, and saw him turn around to look at her, and then she was fading to black, cigarette tumbling from lax fingers, a slumped figure sliding down a stained wall to the sticky floor.

XXXXX

Sara's eyes came open slowly, a blur of mixed colors and hues changing quickly as she focused on her poster covered wall. She tucked a hand under her cheek and let her eyes move over the glossy images of figures clad in black; the figures that spoke the truth about the world; her world anyways.

She sighed and flipped over, her eyes going wide and then narrowing as she took in the sprawled body lying across the chair near her bed.

What the fuck? What was this guy doing here?

She sat up and eased her feet to the floor studying him. He wasn't bad looking in a way she supposed, if you liked the 'smart' type. She tried to remember who he was, but couldn't. Usually when she awoke to a guy in her room she knew exactly what had happened, her aching body could tell no lies. But she had never awakened to find a strange guy sleeping in her chair.

She let her eyes roam over him and then to the table beside her bed. She took in the glasses folded neatly by her alarm clock and then let her eyes move back to his face.

Finished with her scrutiny she reached out a foot and nudged him none too gently. He woke up almost instantly, surprising her. And then his blue gray eyes were squinting at her.

"Who are you, and why are you sleeping in my room?" She demanded hotly.

He blinked a few times and sat forward. "Um, Michael, remember? And, oh, why am I sleeping in your room? Well, last night you kind of passed out or something, so I brought you home... in a cab. Then..."

Sara's eyes narrowed as she cut him off. "You brought me here? How did you know where I live?"

She reached for her cigarettes and lit one, a slight tremor noticeable. She needed a fix, and soon. She took the smoke into her lungs and focused on him.

"Well? You can talk, I just heard you, 'Michael'. So how about it?"

He was still squinting at her slightly. "I searched your pockets. I found your ID. And then I called a cab. I paid for the cab with money I found in your other pocket."

Sara blew a lung full of smoke out, quick and with force, her lithe body moving to stub out the cigarette.

"Get out of my house!" She shouted feeling suddenly angrier then she could remember having felt in a long time.

A small amount of satisfaction coursed through her as he jumped at the volume of her words in the quiet bedroom.

"No thanks are necessary. I couldn't take a money reward."

What was he babbling now?

Sara just wanted rid of him. Her hands were shaking more and more and her eyes kept shooting to her closet door where she kept her stash hidden in a shoe box.

"Just shut up and leave. You're dismissed school boy!"

She knew she was being overly mean, but she wanted him out so she could get to that closet.

In a few minutes she would just say to hell with it, and shoot up in front of him, which might be worth it just to see the expression on his face.

Michael stood up without another word and left the room, the door shutting quietly behind him.

As soon as he was gone she rushed to the closet and threw open the door, her frantic hands fumbling with the lid on the shoe box.

Her stash and supplies in hand, she made her way back to the bed, where she loaded up quickly her need growing with each passing second, her gut twisting as its claws sunk deeper.

With shaking fingers she tied the shoe string around her arm.

She then hurriedly shot a little out clearing the syringe of any air that might be present, and sunk it into her vein, pushing the plunger sending the heroin soaring through her body.

She felt it hit her system and sank back on the bed, enclosed in the little world where she had everything she needed; a world so unlike the one, before finding this release, she had walked through sober.

The syringe still sticking out of her arm, and her eyes feeling heavy she slid further away.

It was through a heavy fog that she saw the door open.

Her eyes were drifting closed again as Michael came back into the room.

(Michael)

Michael froze at the sight of her, her red hair with black streaks falling along her overly pale features; last night's mascara smudged under her lovely eyes.

He made himself move, and went to her side. She was out cold.

He reached and expertly took her hand. Placing his fingers on her thin wrist finding a steady pulse, he then placed her hand gently at her side and let his eyes move along her arm to the syringe sticking from the tender bend of her arm. He reached and pulled it out gently, careful not to hurt her, and then set the offending object on the table.

He had known there was a good chance she was an addict, he had been told to look for the signs. He grabbed the glasses he had pretended to leave behind and shoved them in his shirt pocket. He could see perfectly fine without them, they were just part of his guise as a nerdy school boy.

In fact he was far from school age, twenty four and fresh out of training, Michael Scofield was still what you would call green. But as far back as he could remember he had wanted to be an agent with The Federal Bureau of Investigation, so here he was, mostly due to his young appearance he knew. The assignment had specifically called for someone who would fit in at Sara's school; someone who could work their way into her life. Governor Tancredi had made it clear that his daughter not know that she was under protection.

He had voiced his fear that if Sara were wise to a guard, she would in a simple act of rebellion; do all in her power to give him the slip.

But from what Michael could see, despite the threats against the Governor and his family, the clear threat with his assignment seemed to be her drug addiction.

He leaned in and pulled one of Sara's eyelids up checking her pupils. And then confident that she was okay, he pulled out his cell phone and moved into the hall to report in.