Chapter Four: I'm Not Looking Back

Disclaimer: I own my Muse and psychotic imagination. Everything else I have humbly borrowed from FOX.

A/N:- The last section of the previous chapter was Sara dreaming about a time in University …… but you guessed that, right?

"LJ, you stay here with Nick okay?" Veronica said to Lincoln's son who was stretched out on the sofa.

"Do I have a choice?" LJ made a face.

"Don't be like that. I have a brand new deck." Nick said waving a pack of cards at him lamely.

LJ rolled his eyes as Nick walked Veronica to the door. "Okay so you know what you're going to say?"

Veronica nodded. "I just hope this airs before anything happens." She sighed.

…………………………………….

"Doc's here to see you." The guard told him, flicking the lights on.

Lincoln sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes letting them adjust to the light.

"Hey Lincoln." Sara said, walking into the cell.

"I don't want you to prescribe me anything." Lincoln told her bluntly.

She nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll just talk then." Lincoln looked at her like she was mad. "C'mon you must get kind of lonely being stuck in here….Besides I'm sure we can find something to talk about."

Lincoln shrugged, wondering what game she was playing at. He hated not knowing what was going on out there….. what was Michael planning? Did he and the others have another plan? "Okay, you go first."

"Fine, let's talk about the little escape plan Michael's got going on." She said bluntly. She felt kind of guilty putting Lincoln in such a difficult position especially since he had all kinds of other problems to worry about but she thought she might actually be able to get some answers from him since he didn't know how much she knew already.

Lincoln's eyes widened in surprise and horror. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Lincoln, don't play me for a fool." Sara said quietly.

"How much do you know?"

"I know that somehow the infirmary is key to his plan which is why he pretended to have diabetes and I know that Michael's risking a lot doing this." She said seriously.

"Does he know you know?"

"Does he know the risks totally outweigh the chance of success?

Lincoln's eyes narrowed. He knew what he was about to say next was a low-shot but he did not want Sara to put him in the position where she pushed him for details of the plan using emotional blackmail against him.

"Does he know the doctor who looked after him so well used to be a drug addict feeding her habit with medical supplies that could have been used to treat sick patients?"

………………………………………………….

As soon as Michael entered the half-refurbished guards' break room, he could feel the tension in the air. As soon as the guard left, he found himself surrounded by T-bag, Sucre, C-Note and Westmoreland.

"Well Fish," T-bag started, walking up to Michael and staring him in the face. "Sucre says there's something we ought to know about the plan."

Michael glanced at his cellmate who shrugged and looked slightly guilty.

"I told you. We have to pass through the CO's HQ." Michael stated, feeling slightly uncomfortable that T-bag was invading his personal space.

"And when were you going to tell us about the whole canteen situation?" C-Note spat.

"Now." Michael sighed. And raised his hand before anyone could interrupt. "I never said this was simple. You're just going to have a little faith in the plan but if you don't want to risk it then feel free to opt out now." He waited, no one moved. "Good. Now I'm going to need one of you to come sit with Sucre and I at dinnertime and start unscrewing the screws off the drain cover."

"Hell you guys sit there anyway, why don't one of you two do it?" C-Note, said.

"It's because we sit there all time that we can't do it." Michael explained impatiently. "If one of us crouches down beneath the table where the COs can't see us then they're going to notice one of us isn't there and get suspicious."

"In which case Westmoreland, your time to shine has come." T-bag delegated.

"Hate to point it out to you son but I've sat in the exact same place every meal time for the past thirty years. If I'm not there then it's going to stick out like a sore thumb."

"Looks like it's you then T-bag." C-Note said. "You're the only one who changes seating positions according to which Tweener you've got your eye on at the time."

T-bag glared at him. "And what exactly am I meant to use to undo these bolts?"

"They're not bolts, they're screws. And be imaginative, anything like a paperclip oughta work." Michael said. He motioned to the others to start painting the walls before a guard walked in on them. "Oh and T-bag, when we get to the infirmary corridor stage, you're going to need to be the one to create a distraction and take some guards out if need be." Michael said, turning to examine the unpainted wall in front of him. He heard T-bag drop his brush and walk up to him.

"Let me ask you something. Why do I always have to do your dirty work? You think because you got the brains, you get to take less risks than the rest of us?" T-bag said challengingly.

"Hey now. That's unfair." Sucre said, turning round. "If it wasn't for Fish here then we wouldn't have a hope in hell of getting out of here."

T-bag turned to address the whole group. "Exactly hope. That's all we've been given at the moment. And let me tell you something, hope ain't any use to me by itself." He turned back to Michael. "You keep delaying this escape until something happens which screws the plan up. We coulda been out of here days ago if we did things my way."

"If we did things your way we'll all be in the Shoe for the rest of our life with no hope of parole." Michael said calmly.

T-bag gave him an annoyed look. "You think you're so clever don't you Fish? With your degree and your charm." He said, stepping up to Michael and shoving him against the wall.

"Back off T-bag." Sucre said, giving the Westmoreland and C-Note a worried glance. Something was brewing and he didn't like it.

"Awwh. Can't Fish take care of himself!"

Something snapped in Michael. He knew he should have just gritted his teeth and let T-bag work through his anger but he had put up with too much. He didn't ask for the extra baggage when he started out and although the extra hands had come in handy with digging, T-bag was now something of a liability. Michael shoved T-bag off him. "Stay away from me." He hissed.

"Hell I will." T-bag said coming back at him. Michael gritted his teeth. He hadn't asked to start this fight.

"Break it up guys." C-Note said urgently. "Unless you want the COs in here."

But T-bag wasn't listening and kneed Michael in the stomach and pushed him at the same time, making him lose his balance and knock over a bottle of paint stripper before moving forward and shoving Michael to the floor.

"Sort out the plan Fish." T-bag spat, stepping away.

Michael didn't move at first, he physically couldn't. He tried to hold it in by biting down hard on his bottom lip until it bled and screwing his face up but the pure agony was getting too much.

"Michael, what's wrong?" Westmoreland asked, concernedly.

"Hey Fish! Fish?" Sucre called, kneeling down next to his cellmate.

Suddenly Michael let out a piercing scream which echoed off the bare walls.

The paint stripper had made contact with his burn wound. Words simply couldn't describe the pain.