A/N- Thanks to everyone who reviewed. :smewches: Love ya all!

Neeways, here we are again. Yet another chappie filled with Michael yumminess. Enjoy. :) I'm also working on a project that is wayyyy too raunchy to be put on fanfiction dot net... it might show up at adultfanfiction dot net sometime in the near future but unfortunately, my disks that I usually transfer my stories in, ate it up so I have to rewrite it. Not that I WON'T enjoy every minute of it, I'm just paranoid that someone will glance over my shoulder and read it-- as people in my family are wont to do.

Disclaimers: Despite wishing to the gods above, the Prison Break characters are still the property of Fox and I've been informed, it will never be mine. Only in my dreams were I am goddess, empress, judge, jury and executioner, do I own them. :)

Will we burn in heaven,
Like we do down here?
Will the change come
While we're waiting?

Everyone is waiting...

And when we're done
Soul searching;
As we carried the weight
And died for the cause
Is misery,
Made beautiful
Right before our eyes?
Will mercy be revealed
Or blind us where we stand?
Witness
by Sarah McLachlan

"What do you mean, you can't see me anymore, Mike?" He remembered her brown eyes, bright with confusion and tears. He hated the sloppy way she dealt with things. How she cried over the stupidest things. How she liked the colour pink and preferred puppies to kittens. There was nothing in this woman that remotely interested him, yet he kept going back to her time and again after their first night together. He felt bad about that drunk night they had spent together and stupidly left his number on her cell phone. She kept calling him, kept asking him what he was doing and what he was thinking about. She kept asking him out to drinks, and he kept accepting them instead of making excuses.

"Crystal, I'm sorry but I have a lot on my mind." He said softly, hoping she wouldn't make a scene in the posh, expensive restaurant that they were dining at. "You and I are going in different directions in life and I need to concentrate on my career." The words tasted like ash in his mouth as he spoke them. His eyes followed the single tear that spilled down her lovely face and dropped onto her expensive designer silk blouse.

The scabs on his back from the ink itched and burned like mad. He wanted to get this over and done with so he could go home and get out of the confining clothes that only irritated his skin.

"But, we're so good together... How? Why?" She cried and seeing the helpless look on his face, a look that he preformed only for her own benefit because he could have cared less, Crystal buried her perfect face in the napkin and sobbed noisily.

He had agreed to see her because she was the clerk in charge of the room that held plans that he needed. He went faithfully every day and wooed her with words while prying her for plans that she shouldn't have been able to give out and wouldn't have if he hadn't flirted shamelessly with her. It was a good thing that she was pretty enough and that made the seduction easier on him.

He had to take her out to all those expensive dinners and unfortunately, when he could shake her loose without offending her sensitive heart, they landed into bed where they had sloppy, drunk sex that left him feeling dirty and ashamed with himself. Her room was pink. Her bed was a darker coloured pink that she had proudly informed him before hand was 'dusky rose'. He couldn't quite remember why she had divulged that useless bit of information, but he remembered it.

((PB))

That morning, after breakfast he was escorted to the infirmary where he got his shot. It was the morning after he had kissed her and he vowed to himself, for the sake of his brother, that he would say no more than was necessary to her. He sat down in the chair, rolled up his sleeve and laid his arm on the table to await his shot.

She sat on her stainless steel stool with wheels that made it easier for her to move around the furniture in the room. Her hands, professionally gentle beneath the latex gloves, probed for a vein.

Michael sat watching her, not the needle as he used to. His eyes caught the twitch of muscle in her right cheek as she carefully inserted the needle.

"How was your date last night?" He asked suddenly.

She didn't answer until the syringe had been dropped on the tray and the latex gloves were removed with a loud snap. "It was fine, as dates go." Sara said guardedly.

"Wow, that good huh?" He asked softly, his eyes never leaving hers as he pulled his shirt down to his wrist.

Shrugging, Sara opted to change the subject, "So should I take a look at your foot?"

He returned the shrug. "My toe still hasn't grown back overnight so I don't see why you would have to."

Sara sat up, her spine straight as her hands folded themselves primly on her lap. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday..."

"Talk away." He said and leaned back further in the chair, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

Feeling somehow patronized, Sara could feel all the professionally condescending words melt away. She opened her mouth, "It shouldn't have..." Her breath followed those words as he leaned forward, his face scant inches away from hers. "Happened?" He offered, his breath hot against her cheek, "But it did... didn't it?"

She shook her head. 'Only a few inches... if I lean in just a few more inches I'll be able to kiss him.' The voice in her head whispered and only when his lips touched hers did she realize that her body had responded to that decieving voice.

Their mouths, tentative at first, became bold and even further emboldened as he lifted her from the stool and onto his lap. He didn't move his hands from her sides as hers traced lazy strokes over his chest.

When finally her conscience was too much to ignore, she pulled away breathless and stood. "I shouldn't have done that." She blurted, too scared to look in his face and see lewd victory stamped there.

It wasn't, as she glanced up at his face. Instead, she saw something that sent chills down her spine. A dark, calculating look pierced her foggy brain, imprinting fear and awe in her brain. "No, you shouldn't have." He said softly before leaving her standing in the room with a shocked look on her face.

Her taste lingered in his mouth long after his meeting with her. When he was let loose on the field with Sucre at his side, he worked calmly at his game but she was always there at the tip of tongue, haunting his tastebuds. He glanced at his brother, sharing a dark and quiet look with him that sent messages only brothers were privy to.

The desperation and fear he saw carefully masked on his brother's face drove her from his mind and he turned back to his task at hand. Moving the pains carefully into place was getting harder and harder, time was rapidly closing in on him.

"How is it going, Fish? I hope that you have your shit together?" Abruzzi growled, his eyes sweeping the ground before resting on Michael's

"Things are going as planned." Michael said evasively, pulling his eyes away from his brother to look at Abruzzi.

The man thumped him on the back, it was hard and aggressive but to anyone who had casually glanced this way, they would have mistaken it for comradery. "It better, Fish. It better." He said and then wandered back to his own territory.

((PB))

Later that night, Michael lay listening to the softly rasping snores of his cell mate. They set a steady cadence of his thoughts, lulling him into a hypnosis that seemed almost like sleep.

He hated to admit, even to himself, that he was scared. He was never a violent person, he had never resolved anything with violence, much less started anything with it. If anyone even caught a whiff of his terror, he knew he was done for. The shiv fight that had rattled him, leaving his mind ravaged by the swift brutality of it...

Michael scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to get rid of the sight of Maytag's desperate eyes as they glazed over when he had finally succumbed to death. He shuddered quietly, feeling the hot tears leak out from his clenched eyelids, smearing across the palms of his hands.

If there was a god, he would have prayed to it. He would have wasted all night fervently sending messages to guide him, get him out the hell he had willing put himself into, to get his brother out alive, for Veronica to find something that would prove Linc's innocence... but there was no god.

Especially not in a place like this. Michael had come to terms with his hell before he had put himself into it. He knew that even if he did prove his brother's innocence, Michael would always be a hunted man. He would either have to finish his sentence if he returned to the country, or he would have to go to Mexico or somewhere where he could melt into the background.

It was a lot better than living with the knowledge that he had let his brother die because he hadn't done all within his power to help him. Lincoln had once given up his freedom for Michael and now it was time for Michael to do the same. What he hadn't counted on was the sheer force of violence, ignorance and blind hate he had witnessed within the stone walls of Fox River Penn. There was no way he could ever be prepared for something like that.

((PB))

'You don't know what I went through in there.' Sneered Lincoln, his breath reeking of cheap whiskey and sour beer. 'You couldn't begin to imagine the shit that goes on in a place like that.'

'Why don't you tell me, Linc? So I can help.' Michael begged.

The elder turned and shoved his little brother, causing him to fall backwards and slide across the kitchen floor. 'That was your first taste.' He snarled before stalking out of the room and out of the house.

Michael couldn't bring himself to stand, he sat on the floor where he had dropped and felt helpless tears slide down his face. His brother was so broken, so ruined. There was nothing left to love and be proud of anymore.

A hand reached down and brushed against his cheek. Her legs straddled his, he was no longer fourteen and he was no longer in his mother's kitchen. He sat in that damned chair in the doctor's office that reeked of must, antiseptic and her perfume. She was wearing a black skirt that had restricted her movements. Her hands hiked the material up to her waist as she rested back on his thighs.

'We shouldn't be doing this...' Her voice whispered in his ear as her hands worked at his belt.

This time, he didn't awaken violently, but rather slid back into consciousness. He didn't bother opening his eyes. He rolled onto his side and tucked his arms beneath the pillow that his head rested on. He forced himself to think of something else beside his brother and Sara Tancredi slid unwelcomed into his mind just as she had insinuated herself in his dreams.

TBC