Prison Break- Cast/Characters Interesting Facts | Page 3 | Prison Break
Prison Break: Best Moments of Michael & Sara ❤ I actually really grew to love her relationship with Michael and romances are the He assures her that all her questions about him have answers, but her guard is officially. 'Prison Break' Season Four: Are Michael & Sara Happy? Estrin was kind enough to clue me in on the answers to these questions and more As you said, that relationship has been built on not being able to be together. The Prison Break revival premiere offered more questions than answers. in his surf shop with Sofia, and he also seemed to relish a renewed relationship with his son, LJ. Michael and Sara aren't the show's only romance.
Some are a story. We know that this season is inspired by The Odysseybut that's about it. Later, Linc searches for his brother on the Internet and sees the face of another man in place of Michael.
Later, when Lincoln and C-Note travel to Yemen to locate the incarcerated Michael, they're told no one by the name of Michael Scofield is there. His character only became more endearing when he sacrificed everything to help the brothers Scofield in the final two seasons. We want to know he has found peace! He had lost Michael, but seemed to find solace working in his surf shop with Sofia, and he also seemed to relish a renewed relationship with his son, LJ.
When the reboot kicks off, however, we see that he has become nothing more than a dimestore recidivist, still literally running away from unsavory characters — and from problems of his own making. Put simply, Lincoln needs to grow as a character, and tying up the loose ends surrounding his criminal connections seems necessary for the character to evolve.
She was the reason why he broke out of prison initially with Michael and Co. Later in the series, when he learned he was going to be a father, his world narrowed, and he seemed to have just one goal: Just enough to loosen him up a little.
Sara tossed out the idea as quickly as it came. You get medical supplies as needed and from me. That's well within normal range, if not low. When did you eat last? You look at that watch of yours every three minutes. She had watched him since he had arrived.
The man was timing everything as if literally counting the seconds he had left behind bars.
Prison Break- Cast/Characters Interesting Facts : Page 3
Well, if he didn't want to be behind bars, he shouldn't have robbed that bank in the first place. A split second later she remembered prisoner issued watches had built-in light buttons that illuminated the face. The man was lying. And over something as trivial as not knowing when he last ate that she wanted to shake him and ask him how stupid she thought he was—really? But she didn't shake him. She didn't even pull a face. She had to give herself credit for that.
Instead, she simply reached for the gauze. I thought we were done with that regimen. I'll have to make another trip. A demon on his chest and an angel on his back.
Was it a metaphor? That his days of doing good were behind him and he saw only darkness ahead? That was a disturbing thought, but it felt so real it made her ache. She had to ask. Or at least pushing them as far as possible. She clipped the gauze and held in place with one hand until she had the medical tape in her other.
She would double up on the tape this time, just to make it all the more difficult to take off if he should be stupid enough to try that again. She worked in silence.
It seemed unnatural and forced, but the situation demanded it. He turned to face her. Or so it seemed. If you want to ask me a personal question you are welcome to. Tancredi, and it doesn't matter, Michael, because you haven't answered one question straight since you got here, have you?
It matters what you do. She made the mistake of looking back to Michael, who sat on his bed looking at her as if he wanted to jerk her back into the room and slam the door shut again. But he said nothing, and neither did she. She simply walked, guided by the CO she had yet to learn the name of.
She looked at his badge, which read Watkins. She could give the antibiotics to CO Watkins and be done with Michael for the day.
It was the right choice for a dozen different reasons. Why in the world had she done that? It had been two days since she had last seen Michael. When Sara had returned to administer his antibiotics, she had been instructed to do so through a slot in the door and the next thing she new he had been shipped off the psych ward.
What he had done to get himself sent there she had no idea, but she was very confident that the move had been intentional on his part.
He had stayed there for a day after which a meeting with the warden had sent him right back to the general population. Sara couldn't explain how, but the man was working the system. No matter how much he got beat up in the process, he seemed to be at peace with his bumps and bruises. Everything except for the burn, that was. He definitely wasn't as peace with that.
And now it was time for her to see to that troublesome burn. Michael was waiting for her in the other room and Sara had to will herself into doing her job. Two deep breaths and she was off, breezing into his room without giving him so much as a glance. He complied in his usual careless way, and she noticed that he hadn't touched the bandage since she had wrapped it.
She moved to pull her a small screen in front of him. Take that for what you will. It could use the air for a while. The burn was healing as well as expected and for the next little while there was very little she could do to assist it.
Is it just me or do Michael and Sara on Prison Break have absolutely no chemistry? | Yahoo Answers
They waited in silence for his results which once again showed him to be off the charts. She readied his shot, ignoring how his eyes watched her as she did so. She knew from experience that she was safe as long as she didn't make eye contact.
She measured the insulin and inserted the needle into his arms with a quick jab. Five seconds later, it was all done. She looked up to tell him so when she realized he was leaning forward—way forward. She knew he was going to kiss her and all she needed to do was not back away for it to happen. She didn't and it did, the shock of his lips touching hers causing such a jolt that her heart stopped with pleasured fear.
It took her several seconds to pull herself back to reality—where she was a doctor, Michael was a prisoner, and they were in a jail with only a 4'X4' piece of cloth keeping them from discovery.
She pulled away from him and couldn't help but laugh a little to herself. The whole situation was impossible and yet there she was in the middle of it. And it all came down to one question. His eyes looked into hers, seeming to want to drink her in with his next kiss.
She was terrified—terrified she might actually give him whatever he asked for. He looked like he wanted to lean in again, but that something else was more important.
This place, this room. And that meant only one thing: It took less than a minute for the infirmary to be filled with a flurry of activity as COs entered and began escorting cons roughly back the cells. There would be no riot this time it seemed, even from the few prisoners that were not in lockdown. Technically, everyone should be in lockdown at this point.
Dinner didn't start for another hour and yard time was over. That being the case, who could have escaped from his cell? She was wrapping an inmate's leg when CO Robinson pushed through the door, handcuffs readied. We need everyone back in holding. Knowing it would excite the inmate, Sara refrained from asking questions and waited until the CO was gone before she picked up her phone.
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Seems like they've been digging instead building and now no one knows where they are. He was trying to escape in broad daylight, and given the events of the past few days, she wondered if he might actually get away with it.
They want all non-essential personnel gathered there until they find these guys. It had been more than five hours. Five hours of sitting in a cramped room with no ventilation, two candy machines and a brewed-out coffee machine. Dinner had been brought in at seven, but the cafeteria sandwiches had hardly hit the spot for Sara. There were no updates, just people whispering quietly as the occasional guard popped in and out, and all Sara could wonder was why they had to keep all the staff on site until the situation was over.
Six cons had made a run for it, Sara had learned from the updates. It hadn't taken Sara five hours to figure out this was what Michael had been planning all along. He had come to Fox River to break his brother out, and with his brother's transfer he now had no reason to stay.
So he had left and let everyone who knew about his plan try to run away with him. Sara thought of T-Bag and fought back a shiver. She had seen his file. The man had no business being in society. The door burst open and Bellick came into the room for the first time since the lockdown. Something big must have happened for him to make a personal appearance.
Behind him, a half a dozen guards clustered, awaiting their next command. Bellick struck the self-important pose Sara had seen far too many times and gave each of the staff a hard look. For some reason he avoided her gaze. It's now clear for each of you to return from your homes for the day.
Which one had they caught? Sara joined them in the rear and flinched when she felt a meaty hand rest on her shoulder. Let's go up to your office, shall we? It was nearly ten and she was exhausted. Sitting in a room with nothing to do but speculate for hours on end was more exhausting than actually working. Sara was halfway up the stairs when she felt a small chill, like a window had been opened. It was an odd sensation simply because the infirmary had no opening windows.
The chill increased when she turned to the infirmary, Bellick half a step behind her and looking at her butt. Such attention was annoying under the best of circumstances, but after her day it was downright infuriating.
Sara fought a laugh. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that was how the five remaining inmates had escaped. Or are you going to pretend that you had no idea what Scofield was up to? She had known Michael was up to something, but had allowed herself to believe she was the one in control of the situation. It took only one look at those bars to look back on every memory she had with Michael Scofield with new eyes.
He had played her. Right from the very beginning, everything he had said and done had been leading up to this point and he had needed her to keep her suspicions to herself. It hadn't mattered how he kept her quiet, only that she not share her observations about him with anyone else. And to that end he had played right into her weakness, making her believe that they had a connection…or even more.
In the mean time I'll go get Pope. He wants to talk to you. They'll never give you anything back. Sara looked at the clock. It was now 5: The sun was still shining as Sara made her way to her car. She was actually leaving the prison before dusk, and it was about time. For a while Sara really had believed she could make a difference. She had thought the prisoners she served would want to be to be rehabilitated. Well, she was wrong.
There was nothing about Fox River that invited personal growth and she had made a fool of herself trying to pretend otherwise. The whole time all she could think about was the future and where her life would be in ten years if she stayed on in a place like Fox River. The picture didn't look pretty, so when dusk fell she dumped her cup and made the solitary journey back home. She would hop online and check out her options. There had to be other opportunities where she could use her skills to help people who actually wanted to be helped.
In the mean time Fox River could hire a male doctor, which was probably what they should have done in the first place. Sara drove home on autopilot, not registering the lights or the city life. Not registering anything until she had her key in her front door and had turned on her living room light. She had yet to shut the door behind her when the bowl she habitually threw her keys into and the large envelope sitting inside it caught her eye.
Her heart caught in her chest as she somehow immediately realized what it was. Locking the door behind her, she moved to the envelope and at first only stared. She had never seen his handwriting before, but knew it instinctually. It was Michael's and it was time to find out what he wanted this time.
She took a deep breath, releasing it at the less-than-affectionate greeting of simply her name. At least pretenses were being dropped in that area. Sara, I told you once that the questions you had regarding me had answers. I'm sure it's clear to you now why I hesitated in answering them at the ties when you asked.
I will try to answer them now. When my brother was first arrested for killing the Vice President's brother, I thought him as guilty as everyone else. I'm ashamed to say that it took me way too long to learn of his innocence and to figure out what I needed to do. Growing up my brother always took care of me, and now it was my turn to take care of him. Legal avenues for vindicating my brother quickly became exhausted and I saw only one option: I needed to break my brother out of prison before his execution.
That meant I needed to find a way in and out of the prison. Getting in was easy. Everyone knows how to get into a jail. I just needed to make sure I ended up in the same one as my brother. Getting out was more difficult, but I finally figured out a way. The blueprints showed me I could get out through the infirmary.
The original plan was to create a hole in the drainage piped under the sink grate and get out through the window bars, which meant I needed to find a way to get into the infirmary every day so I could have access to the pipe. This would have worked, but the night we first tried to escape we discovered someone had replaced the pipe. This was the night that you treated Linc for food poisoning. I was the one who made him sick. With the pipe replaced I needed to move on to Plan B, which was much more dangerous and with which I'm sure you are well familiar.
As for your other questions on how I knew my way around the crawl space and where the prison exits were, it was because I had access to the blueprints, which was something I couldn't very well tell the prison doctor at the time. This is far from the whole story you may be looking for, but I hope this information answers your questions about me either directly or indirectly and brings you the peace you deserve on the subject.
Michael She stared at the letter, re-reading it several times and realizing that very little of it surprised her. In fact, it all made sense—so much sense that she wanted to scream in frustration for not having figured it all out herself. Everything he had written was possible, of course, but it was everything you would never expect to happen at a prison and if what Michael had written was true, then he had counted on the staff's sense of security to play his little game.
Forgetting about her new job search, Sara walked into her room and realized something she hadn't noticed before. She felt a draft…just like she had that night at the infirmary.
She knew before she saw his lean silhouette framed in the dark doorway and was both surprised and proud of her herself when she didn't jump when she saw him. She wasn't falling into that trap again. You knew the moment you discovered that I had broken out that something like this would happen and you know why. You used me from the moment you met me. Before I broke in there, I was only thinking about one thing: Everything—everyone else was just a puzzle piece I needed to fall into place.
So I'm going to ask again, Michael: What are you doing here? I can't ask that of you anymore. Things have become too complicated. I just figured I owed you that after everything. That you saw the blueprints before you went into the prison and memorized them? With that jolt came a revelation. I mean… holy shit. That was faked too. He steeped back into the shadows.
Sara couldn't believe it—couldn't believe how it hurt to realize it. He had come to do so personally, to make sure there were no misunderstandings between them. Just when she had decided he was the lowest form of scheming slime, he had to show up and do something gentlemanly. Why couldn't he just let her think he was an ass and leave her to hating him?
Why did he insist on leaving like this? It would have been so much easier to just walk away. You, Nika, and the chain gang disappear into the sunset?
Other questions might come to her later, but for now she at least wanted to know if it had all been fake on his side. I promised her that.
Was that true at least? As if they hadn't choreographed the whole even to perfection over the phone. Tell her exactly what to do? That letter doesn't scratch the surface of what's going on, but it could still get you killed. It may not seem like I've put you in danger by telling you what I have, but it's true. I would never want to put you in danger, but I knew you deserved as much of the truth as I could give you.
I'm warning you though, Sara, you can't trust anyone, not even your father with what you know. It's not a joke, Sara. So unless you want to end up like me, keep your mouth shut about this.
He slipped out of her patio door before she could take a breath and she knew he was gone.
She could chase after him, but he would have factored that into his escape plan. No, he was gone and he had left her with far less than he had imagined. Sara still worked at the prison. She wasn't sure for how long, but if there was one thing she had learned from the past it was not to make rash decisions in times of extreme stress. Did she still want to quit?
Every time she walked through those secure doors now, she felt she was the one who did something wrong—like she was the one serving a sentence. She prayed to God it stayed that way until she walked out the door at 5: She would be on call at that point, but Sara had only been called in after hours once since Scofield and his gang had busted out. All in all, life was a lot simpler with them gone. More peaceful, and yet paradoxically less meaningful. Sara considered that and made up her mind on a subject that should have been resolved a long time ago.
Reaching out for the phone, she dialed her father's personal number and willed herself to make this step at least. After all, she had proven to herself once and for all that there was at least one area in her life where she could not trust her instincts. One area where her feelings would always betray her. She had always liked the bad boys—always, and what good had it done her? Looking back on her past, she tried to find one good thing did a man she had feelings for had brought into her life?
Sure, they made her heart pound. Sure, they made her feel alive and needed, but the common thread between each of them, besides the fact they were all men her father would profoundly disapprove of, was that they tended to live on the wrong side of the law, and Sara couldn't play that game anymore no matter how gratifying the emotional and physical payoff was for her.
No, it was time to find a balanced man, one with a steady job who was stable and had as much to give her as she would give to him. It was time for Sara to have a healthy relationship with someone who was appropriate. I'm going into a meeting. Of course, I remember. I'll get back to you shortly. Sara stared off into space, her pen tapping absently on the paperwork she was supposed to be filling out, and creating a scattered spray of dots that would likely never be seen by anyone other than herself.
Is it just me or do Michael and Sara on Prison Break have absolutely no chemistry?
The night I actually have a date? When it came to people like her dad, fund raisers had nothing to do with the causes they advocated and everything to do with networking. And all for a good cause. Sara snapped from her decidedly uncharitable thoughts and sent her co-worker a smile. My mind was somewhere else. Yes, of course I'm excited. I'm a little jaded in that area. He doesn't know you yet. It hasn't been that long. It's a fund raiser. Tell you what, why don't you pretend it's Scofield who's picking you up tonight and see what you put on.
Sara didn't look up. You haven't smiled a day since he left and I can't decide if it's because you miss him or because he messed with you so bad. You gotta let him go, girl. Heaven knows he's gone for good and there's not a reason in the world why you shouldn't let this guy tonight give you something to smile about again.
Was she that transparent? Was it as obvious to everyone else as it was to Katie how much Scofield's escape had affected her—mostly because she had been one of the most instrumental keys in his success.
He had done it all right in front of her face, and she—who had always prized herself on her intelligence—had bought his act hook, line, and sinker. Even in the last moments. It burned her every waking moment, but Katie was right. She needed to let him go. You need anything before I take off? She stayed that way, staring into empty space, knowing what she needed to and fighting against it in the same breath.
Slowly, her hand move to her desk drawer and opened it where atop all the scatter of pencils and office supplies sat a bright, paper flower. She should have thrown it out long ago. She nearly had on several occasions, and to do so now would involve nothing more than moving the near-weightless flower twelve inches to the right and releasing it into a plastic garbage can.
The custodian would empty the garbage sometime during the night and it would be done. The last physical thing tying her to Michael Scofield would be gone. Sara's hand hovered, immobile, then finally she picked it up.
The paradox of fund raisers never made sense to Sara. This specific evening's cause was children's leukemia, but Sara never understood how a bunch of rich people dressing up in their best and being catered to hand and foot raised awareness or empathy for children dying in a hospital bed.
Sure, money was being raised for research, but how many of the people surrounding her really cared? How many of them had been in the same room with a child afflicted with leukemia, or had gone through a day without having every luxury provided them? On his face he had a plastic smile as if she had just complimented her on her dress. He had some details to attend to. How many times had those words left her hanging in her own life—except it was her father who had something to attend to.
Glad you're putting your best foot forward. There was an awkward pause as each ran out of something to say to the other. When had it come to this, and how? Sara's eyes flicked over to where her father had indicated her date was and found herself staring. Surely it couldn't be that beautiful man gliding through a small gathering of guests. He shook hands as he passed, everyone seeming to know who this chisel-faced man was.
Her father tilted his head toward the man and the gesture was returned. Sara caught her breath, nervous for the first time since she put this whole plan in motion. If this man didn't find his place in politics, then he definitely had a career waiting for him in the modeling business.
Perfect charcoal hair framing a poster-worthy face that included everything from a trustworthy smile to intelligent eyes. His eyebrows were expressive and his high cheekbones made him appear perpetually pleased about something as he schmoozed the crowd. One thing was for sure: His aspirations were as obvious as his good looks, and Sara was quick to observe that far more women than men were greeting him as he walked by.
He was the opposite of Scofield, she realized. Where Michael's eyes were light and unreadable, her date's were chocolate brown and radiated cheerfulness. Where Michael's body was lean, her date was built more like Lincoln, Michael's older brother.
And if appearances were to be believed, where Michael wouldn't talk even at the threat of losing his extremities, her date, this Mark guy, spoke openly to all.
Everyone around him beamed up at him as if gratified at his simple presence. For arranging his first blind date for her, her dad could have definitely done worse.
Sara smiled and she watched as Mark's eyes gave her a quick once-over then smiled in return. They had finally found a quiet spot where Mark's many friends seemed inclined to let him have a drink and a moment of privacy with his date.
Sarah sipped her champagne and couldn't hide a smile. The picture he has up has to be at least five years old. He should update it. He'd love that on his wall. The riot, the execution, and then that escape. People like me are on the outside looking in, but you, you actually know these people. You've talked with them.
You can't know a con, because all they lie straight to your face. Her first night away from inmates in months and sitting around in a formal dress with a perfectly attractive man and talking about them.
She really didn't have a life. She needed some air. Drugs are a hot commodity in a prison. It always gave her a hangover. Whether she did or not, Mark's reaction was gratifying.
He reached out and touched her face, looking as if he wanted to kiss her right then and there. I guess I'll just have to do my best to be worthy of that chance, unlike some men in your past. What the hell did he know about her past? She was about to ask him when his next comment soothed her concerns. He was leaning in slightly when a waiter passed by carrying a fresh tray of drinks.
Being as smooth as possible, she picked two flutes up from the tray and handed one to Mark. He turned the gesture into an intimate toast. Katie leaned against the break room counter, stirring her coffee absently.
I mean, all things considered, I expected the night to be a lot worse than it was.Prison Break !!! "Emotional moment" Michael
Katie waved that off. And you didn't answer my question. You were out with a man, weren't you? She needed the caffeine anyway to chase away the mini-hangover that was itching around her head. She had only had three drinks, but Sara had never had much of a stomach when it came to alcohol. I bet there were even a few moments when you for got all about this place.
Sara suddenly felt fidgety. Then it froze with realization. You dressed like Scofield was picking you up! I met him at the fund raiser. Picturesque, poster boy that he was. Sara could see the future of two people like them without much difficulty. Two workaholics who paths crossed like ships in the night.
They would decorate their modestly-sized mansion with antiques and have exquisite gardens magazines would want to photograph. Their lone child would be taught in the best schools and have an image consultant the moment he or she hit puberty.
Mark would be on the road two hundred days out of the year promoting his current agenda while Sara was allowed to tend to agendas of her own as she enjoyed the affluence he provided. He'd be faithful for maybe the first year, and then after that it was anyone's guess.
He'd never leave her, though. Politicians didn't leave their wives for their mistresses. Sara had seen countless marriages like it. She almost felt as is she could write a script for it. The only decision to be made was whether or not she wanted to be half of one of those couples. She blinked herself back to reality.
What was she doing? They had only been on one date, for crying out loud! One date and she was already imaging marriage. Not that it was a particularly fanciful vision, but the fact that she had gone there in the first place was worrisome.