Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The trampling of many feet and the voices yelling instructions as they stampeded down the hall were hard to ignore. Sara looked up from her desk to see a group of C.O's half carrying, half dragging Michael Scofield down the hall. Sara's first thought was that he'd done something wrong, judging from the volume of the C.O's voices and the position of Michael's bowed head. But she sprang into action, slinging her stethoscope around her neck, knowing her help was obviously needed, or he wouldn't have been brought to the infirmary. She spoke loudly, commandingly, calmly, requesting materials from the nurse and ordering the C.O's into Room 3. They heaved Michael onto the table, and it was only then that she realised he was crying. He sat, his hands fisted in his eyes as if he were a child, his face contorted in plain agony. She looked away quickly, instructing the C.O's to leave. They didn't move. She looked up at them.

"I said, thankyou, I'll take it from here."

They hesitated, and then – "Let's go." – they exited a little reluctantly.

"Ok, let's take a look at you." She was determined not to look at his face, terrified of her reaction. She could hear him gasping softly, his hand over his mouth as he tried to hold in the pain. She reached for the bloodied bandage around his foot, and she felt his trembling fingers curl around her wrist. He moaned slightly, his protest feeble, and she felt her heart stretch a little.

"You're ok, you're ok," she murmured, gently detangling the soaked material. What she saw next made her stomach twist. As a doctor, she'd seen some fairly unsightly injuries, but never something so clearly malicious and twisted. He breathed in sharply and it was clear this was the first time he'd seen the extent of the damage. As if to confirm this, he scrunched his face up further, tears freefalling as he lay down, overcome. A tear splashed onto Sara's arm and it burned. She looked at the weeping con properly.

"What happened?" her tone was gentle but firm; caring but resolute.He inhaled slowly, attempting to calm himself, but the treble of his voice shook as he exhaled. "Nothing."

"This isn't nothing, Michael, I need you to tell me what happened." The last phrase was enunciated carefully as she attended to his mangled foot.

"Don't make me lie to you," he was slightly louder now, matching her tone of authority. She looked back up at him. Sweat and tears coated his face, his eyes squeezed shut. "Please" he retched slightly, more tears seeping from beneath his eyelids and Sara felt her heart snap stubbornly in two.

AN: Thanks for reading. This is my first Prison Break fic and I would sure love some feedback! I figured I'd start small, hence the drabble-ness of this piece. And I know this is from very early on in the show, but this moment has stuck with me, and I'm in Australia where we haven't seen most of Season Two. Grrr. The unfairness of it all. Thanks!