My first Prison Break (another step closer to my goal of having a story for every show I watch). I'm not asking you to be nice when you review, just be polite in letting me know what I did wrong.

SPOILERS! Kinda... nothing over the top. "The Key"... like there was going to be much of a choice! Did anyone else squeal royally when... beautiful Sara/Michael moment!

Oh, and there's a second part...

"Is there something wrong?"

"No. Unless you want to talk about what happened this morning."

"I think I have a pretty good idea. We're done here."

She turned away from him, but he didn't move. The decision flashed through his mind and he made it without thinking twice. She expected him to leave, to move on and avoid confrontation. Instead, and glancing around to make sure no one was paying enough attention to him for what he was about to do.

"You want answers," he said quietly as he rolled down his sleeve, "give me a chance to give them to you." Then, he put endless faith in her hands.

"Call me tonight."

Part of him didn't expect a CO to come to his cell minutes before lockdown, but it happened.

"The Doc wants to see you," the officer said gruffly, following Michael down the halls to the infirmary. She was there, everything set up.

"Thanks," she said softly to the guard. "He'll be fine, I can handle him."

"You sure?" When she nodded, the guard turned and wandered off down the hall. She closed the door softly, taking her sweet time.

"I'm sorry," he said, if only to break the silence. "You weren't part of the plan." The sentences combined didn't make sense in her head. He apologized then told her about…

"What plan?" She would've been lying if she'd said her heart wasn't in her throat. She wasn't appreciative of it, but it was there, constricting her movement.

"My brother's innocent, Sara." The conviction in his voice almost startled her. Almost.

"He's been convicted," she replied, though she had never believed Lincoln was guilty of murder.

"That doesn't mean he's not innocent." Finally she faced him, not realizing he'd come close enough for her to have to look down to avoid him.

"What does his innocence have to do with your wife stealing my keys?" There, she'd said it. Well, spat it more like, but the words were out in the open. His hands brushed at her lab coat and when she finally looked into his face, his own awe and surprise at the motion written across his face, she realized he hadn't meant to touch her. But from the look in his eyes she had to tack a word onto the end… yet. He hadn't meant to touch her... yet.

"She's married to me for her green card," he spoke softly, his fingers still brushing against the starched fabric that she'd left on. "That's it."

"She stole my keys," Sara hissed, stepping around him and into the room.

"She wanted to help me." He spoke softly, in remorseful tones. But Sara had mentally prepared herself for this.

"You're not making sense," she finally told him sternly. "You told me you wanted a chance. Here it is." Her arms were folded over her chest, challenging him to continue.

"Lincoln didn't kill Terrence Steadman. He doesn't deserve to be on death row. I'm breaking him out of here." She might have laughed if it wasn't for the stone serious look on his face.

"You're going to what?"

"Break Lincoln out of here," he repeated softly, with more conviction than before.

"Are you insane?" She'd subconsciously taken a step closer to him. However, he mirrored her step backwards.

"I'm not finished. You deserve more answers than that." This new found honesty shocked Sara enough to keep her mouth shut. However, he stopped, rubbing a hand over his face and sighing, partly in anger.

"Do you have any idea how much danger you're putting yourself in?" he whispered to her, taking another step away and increasing the distance. "When you didn't know, you could tell the truth. I don't want you to lie, Sara." They both knew it was pointless. He'd involved her in his plan from day one. That's when it all started to slip into her mind, puzzle pieces falling snugly into place.

"I was a tool." Her voice was detached as her mind tried to absorb the information.

"The doctor was a tool," Michael stressed. "It would have been easier if it wasn't you." Anger rushed hot through her veins at his words.

"You used me." Michael turned away from her, bracing one hand on the wall and knocking his head against the white. She made no move to stop him.

"You used me."

"I didn't want to." There was harsh conviction in his voice and it forced her to take an involuntary step backwards.

"If it was anyone else, this would have been easier," he repeated.

"But it's not anyone else, Michael, it's me. What the hell is going on?"

"I built this place," he said, voice just loud enough for her to hear. "I know these walls and I know the infirmary is not only the closest to the walls but the weakest point of the entire place. I needed constant access."

"Diabetes," she filled in promptly.

"I got shots in here every day, I could look around, pay attention. I had it all planned out, down to the letter. I didn't factor in you."

"What?" Half of her brain understood what he was saying. Nevertheless, the more rational part argued that there was no way she as a person had destroyed his plans.

"You weren't supposed to treat me with compassion. I needed a shot every time, that was it, but you tried to make this place better for me, as if I had something in here worth while." He still hadn't faced her, his body still facing the wall. Tears of disappointment and frustration were welling in her eyes, telling her something had to change.

"Michael, stop talking in circles." She hadn't meant for her voice to come out as pleading as it did, but the words had slipped out anyway.

"I came in here to break out my brother. From day one, that was my goal and I was going to use this place to do it. I had to have daily access, to be able to come in here and look at the place, to understand what was going on and I needed to do it as unobtrusively as possible."

"Your diabetes and my trust in you. We've been through that!"

"I didn't need your trust, Sara, I needed the doctor's trust."

"Where's the difference?"

"You're the difference." Now he'd turned, his intense eyes fixed on hers. He moved towards her, almost as a predator stalking his prey.

"I didn't expect the compassion, the caring." Then he stopped. "I denied it, ignored it, but then you were so cold today…" She was awed at the raw emotion in his voice. It wasn't normal for Michael to be so emotionally out of control, yet here he was, his eyes suddenly downcast, refusing to meet hers.

"Just spit it out," she said softly, knowing the tears were leaking into her voice. He looked up at her again and she knew all of her emotions were written on her face like a book.

Sure, she'd been angry when she'd found out Michael's 'wife' had stolen her keys. She'd been horribly upset when she realized Michael had been lying to her. Still, it was uncharacteristic of him to want to make amends like this. She'd confronted him a million times, begging him to tell her exactly what he was doing. Every time he'd shrugged her off with a vague answer.

Katie had tried to tell her a thousand times that she was in love with him. Sara was too headstrong and stubborn, refusing to believe what the nurse was saying. Still, she was standing not two feet from him, knowing her eyes were telling of her hurt, her anger and more importantly, her love.

"I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you."

He'd said it so quietly she wasn't sure she'd heard it but the rawness in his voice told her to make him say it again could be torture. It made sense now, all he was saying. He needed the access, not the compassion. If she had been cold and detached through the whole thing, just trying to get him in and out as fast as possible, she was sure they wouldn't be standing in this situation now.

But it hadn't worked out that way.

She'd reached out to him from day one, reading his file when she couldn't understand what he was saying to her. Now it made sense.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" she asked, knowing subconsciously that no matter how much she may yell at him now, it wasn't going to make a difference. Plus, if she wanted to help him he had to know he had her undying support.

Because she loved him too.

"Telling you would be putting you in danger. I don't want you to lose out over this. This isn't your fight."

"It became my fight the minute you walked through my infirmary doors," she shot back. "You know that."


"No, Michael. Despite how illegal it is to break out of prison, neither you, nor Lincoln deserves to be here." Before she knew what was happening, before she had a chance to register him moving towards her, his lips were on hers. Like that morning, she fell into his embrace, allowing herself to get lost in his kiss.

"Why do you have to be so perfect?" he whispered to her when they broke away, his forehead against hers. She chuckled softly.

"I'm in love with a convict," she answered. "How perfect is that?" He pulled away from her, looking down slightly into her eyes.

"I didn't want to lie to you," he told her truthfully, and let is show in his eyes and the gentle way his hands stroked her back. She nodded.

"I know." Then he looked into her face, his eyes pleading.

"You'll wait for me?" It was a paraphrase of the question he'd asked earlier that morning.

"I'll wait for you," she told him, conviction heavy in her voice. "But only if you promise to behave yourself." He smiled, slightly happy that she'd tried to inject light-heartedness into the conversation. In response, he pulled back from her, letting his eyes trail down her body.

"I don't make promises I can't keep."