Title: Bring Back the Sun
Rating: G
Summary: The last day of Lincoln Burrows' life (part 1).
Author's Notes: I started this after watching the previews following ep. 13 (yes, I watched them in slow-motion several times), but I don't read spoilers, so aside from the one brief bit of a scene I caught, there's nothing spoilery beyond the first 13 eps and anything unrecognizable (like Sara's family stuff) is totally made up.

Sara's father has tried calling her several times already today to tell her that he'll be there this evening, trying her at home, on her cell phone, and twice in her office, but she's ignored them all, afraid of the inevitable fight that would result if she spoke to him. She cynically wonders if he's going to want her to pose with him for the press: the Good Doctor / Governor's daughter who will be pronouncing the murderer dead, standing alongside the figurehead of the state putting him to death; a tag-team of Tancredi killers, she thinks bitterly, and knows that this is going to be a miserable, miserable day.

She walks into the exam room to find Michael standing with his back to the door, staring out the barred window, and realizes that it'll probably be a much worse day for him, though he has yet to give any indication of that possibility. It takes a few calls of his name for him to turn around, and when he does she can tell immediately that his attention is elsewhere. She asks him to sit down and he falls heavily into the chair in front of hers, unconsciously offering up his arm.

Sara looks at him for a moment, hating the feeling that she's once again being drawn into his world, and says, "How're you feeling today?" then mentally kicks herself for such stupid words.

He doesn't reply and makes no move to look at her as she pricks his finger and then begins readying the needle, irritating her with his disinterest. She's sick of his non-answers, sick of his cryptic words, sick even more of his outright lies and the feeling that he's playing her, like she's some part of a game of his. But she must be a masochist, because she keeps talking, feeling like she can't control her mouth.

"Look, I know you've turned down this offer before, but I wanted you to know… I'll be here all day – I have to… be there tonight – if you want to talk at all. I know that this must be…"

She glances up at him, realizing that he's still not looking at her, and drops the hand holding the needle to her lap.

"Michael, have you heard anything I've said?"

He looks up at her and blinks, like he's just seeing her for the first time. "What?"

She looks at him and thinks maybe she's seeing him for the first time as well, because she's suddenly noticing how haggard and drained he looks. It's such a contrast to yesterday, when he was bizarrely calm, if a little fatalistic – charming, flirtatious, like he didn't even notice what was coming up today. But today he's pale and his shoulders are slumped and she sees dark circles under his eyes for the first time, and she wonders what's changed since yesterday. He looks like his brother's already dead.

"When was the last time you had some sleep?"

He gives a small burst of laughter and shakes his head for a moment, like he's going to deny it. "I don't, uh… a couple days ago," he admits finally, a sheepish expression flitting across his face.

"Uh huh," she nods and looks down for a moment.

She knows he must be tense, anxious, distracted by his brother's execution at the end of the day, but she's disturbed by the dramatic change in his mood – his whole presence really – from yesterday, when he was at least speaking to her. Today he doesn't smile, doesn't joke, doesn't flirt, barely speaks. She's told herself that it'd be so much easier to be rational about him, to treat him as just one of the hundreds of prisoners in here, if he didn't try to chat with her. But his sudden silence is unnerving, and the anger that's been simmering in the pit of her stomach for the past week is pushed aside at the bleak look in his eyes.

"I know that this must be hard for you… impossible." She shakes her head and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. "But you've got to take care of yourself. You can't… not sleep, not eat. Especially in a place like this – you have to take care of yourself," she says again, wondering when she started sounding like a fussy teacher. She wonders why she continues to care so much about him. It's like an involuntary tick at this point that she can't turn off.

Michael doesn't say anything but gives her his steely gaze, so at least she knows he's listening. She holds his arm and tries to be gentle as she jabs the needle into it.

"Have you been able to see him at all?"

He shakes his head, trying to look nonchalant and for once failing. "They won't let me."

"I could talk to the Warden if you like, maybe you could spend some more time with him this afternoon, before – "

Michael quickly shakes his head, looking down with an odd half-smile that fades quickly as his mouth forms a tight line. "That's okay."

Sara stares at him, hard, until he glances up at her and then away quickly, mumbling "I can't, um – I don't know if I can see him…"

"Why?" she asks and doesn't bother trying to hide the confusion and tinge of anger in her voice. She's hit with a sharp memory of her mother, who was killed in a car accident several years ago. It's something she thinks about often, especially today – especially when there is a man in front of her who confuses her constantly, who is making a decision that completely baffles her, and she wants to understand why.

Michael pushes his chair back a few inches to put some space between them and she feels a little guilty when he won't meet her eyes. His appointment is technically over and she can tell he wants to leave, but she's not going to let him escape just yet, not without giving her some sort of clarification. She's not sure why this strikes her as such a personal affront, but she's missing her mother terribly today and Michael's constant disinterest in the reality of his situation is making her angry.

"I don't know if I can do it," he finally murmurs. "I don't know if I can talk to him, touch him, knowing it's the last time."

There's always been something between the two of them, Sara thinks, but at the moment it feels more like a wall than a attraction. She didn't get a chance to say goodbye to her mother, and if they were friends she'd tell him so. As it is, she just looks at him for a moment "I think you should reconsider."

"I'll be there tonight, right before" he tells her quietly, still not looking at her. "He'd never forgive me if I didn't see him, uh…" The rest of the words are lost as he seems to realize what he's said, and he rubs his forehead for a moment.

She hurts a little for him when she sees him like this, still holding on to his cool detachment but letting honest words (honest, she's sure they're honest) spill out of his mouth with pale, grim eyes that suggest maybe he is aware of what's happening today. And she's still holding onto his arm, despite the distance he's tried to put between them, and it was stupid to hold on, not to let go when she was forced to stretch it to reach him (why, why didn't she let go?) but she didn't let go, and now she can't. She can feel the muscles twitching under her fingers, and he's finally looking at her now, and she can't let him throw away an opportunity she's trying to give him.

"You have to see him, Michael," she says, trying to sound sympathetic. Their eyes are locked together, and she could be fooling herself, but she thinks maybe she sees some understanding in his, like he knows why it's so important to her. "This is the – "

"Dr. Tancredi," a nurse bursts through the door, interrupting her, and the moment is gone. "There's a phone call for you."

"Thanks, um, take a message please," Sara tosses back over her shoulder, dropping his arm to twist around, and when she turns back, Michael is standing, pulling down his sleeve.

"Are we done?" he asks, and she knows what he means is We're done. So she nods and lets him walk past her and out the door, because there's nothing else she can do.

This is going to be a miserable day.