The Ultimate Sacrifice

Title: The Ultimate Sacrifice
Author: Darkestangel
Summary: Michael’s first day at Fox River is not what he hoped for
Author’s Website: www.darknessprevails.com
Comments: darkestangel@darknessprevails.com
Archive: Yes, to Prison Break archive, yes to others with permission
Warnings: crude language, violence, non-con
Pairing: Michael/T-bag, Michael/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: The Pilot for now but could possibly be the entire first season if I am encouraged to continue on with this saga.
Disclaimer: Prison Break belongs to 20th Century Fox and Adelstein-Parouse Productions. I am only borrowing their characters for my own personal pleasure and no permanent harm will come to them.
Author’s Notes:
1. I tend to write dark slash stories and this one is no exception so consider this as a warning.
2. This is Part II of the series and the NC-17 rating applied to the series as a whole.
3. I have often wondered how the show would be different if Sucre was not Michael’s cellmate. This is totally A/U and will go against the canon of the show. This could possibly turn into a series that retells the first season and the changes that will take place due to Michael’s cellie if I am encouraged through feedback.

***************************************************

“Yard time!” a C.O. called out as the bars to the second-tier in Cellblock A opened up.

Michael who was sitting on his bunk watched as Ripper jumped down from the first bunk. The other inmate had left Michael alone and had not attempted any conversation for the last hour, and Michael had begun to think that maybe having Ripper as a cellie wouldn’t be all that bad.

“Let’s go fish,” Ripper grinned. “It’s time for me to show you off to the family.”

Michael immediately changed his previous impressions of his cellie. Ripper was going to be nothing but trouble. “I thought that I would just go out alone.”

Ripper grabbed Michael by the bicep and pushed him up against the concrete wall of the cell, “You seem to think that you have a choice in the matter. You lost your rights to make decisions when you were put in this cell.”

Michael looked defiantly at the larger man who had him pinned up against the hard wall, “I don’t have time for this.”

Ripper swung Michael from the wall and pushed the fish’s face up against the cold steel bars, “I suggest you make time for it fish.” Rip menacingly rubbed his crotch up against Michael’s ass, “You’re not going to have time to do much of anything else.”

Michael kept his mouth wisely shut as the hulk of a man rubbed his hardening dick up against his body. He briefly closed his eyes as the caveman of a prisoner licked the side of his neck before suddenly releasing him.

“Let’s go fish,” Ripper commanded before stepping out of the cell towards the Yard.

Michael grabbed the Muscle and Fitness magazine he had seen Ripper reading earlier and reluctantly followed his cellmate out into the Yard wondering if and when he was going to have time to place his plan in motion. He was on a tight schedule and each step had been carefully planned out in his mind. The first step was to verify that the sewer system underneath the Infirmary led to the Yard and that was where the magazine came into play. His next priority was meeting up with John Abruzzi a Mafia boss who would hopefully be able to secure transportation on the night of the escape, but Ripper seemed determined to introduce him to T-Bag and the rest of the Purity first.

As the two inmates walked out into the Yard, Michael took notice of the sewer grates scattered throughout the area. They were noticeable due to the small tendrils of steam coming out of them due to the bone-chilling cold of the Illinois’ air. Michael made a beeline towards the center grate not caring if Ripper followed or made an attempt to correct him in front of the other prisoners. Once he reached the center grate, he looked around at the other inmates while taking the magazine he had stolen from Rip out of his jacket. He folded the magazine in half, knelt down in front of the grate, and slipped the magazine through the small slits in the grate watching as it fell into the foot-wide tunnel to rest on its side lodged up against the metal debris filtering plate. He smiled in satisfaction noting that the first step in his intricate plan had been taken.

“What the hell are you doing fish?” a mammoth-sized black inmate asked. “You’re in the wrong part of the Yard. Pretty white boys belong on their knees behind the bleachers with the white racist.”

“Maybe he’s looking for a little dark meat,” another black inmate suggested. “Is that what it is fish? You want to get black-balled?”

Michael looked at the four inmates surrounding him, “I was just making my way over towards the fence. I didn’t mean to approach on your territory.”

“Boy like you has no business being out here alone,” one of the other inmates remarked smiling. “Somebody like you could get hurt up in here.”

“He’s not alone,” Ripper replied stepping up behind the pack of cons who were circling Michael. “He’s the Purity’s property so back the fuck off!”

Michael watched as the inmates squared off against each other measuring each other’s physical assets and determining if the new fish was worth the trouble. The black inmates didn’t seem that concerned with Ripper but the four other white cons approaching to back Ripper up were another story.

“Catch you later boy,” the apparent leader of the blacks replied looking at Michael with a combination of regret, anger, and pity.

Ripper grabbed Michael by the back of the neck and squeezed, “What did I tell you fish?” He pulled the newbie closer towards his body, “I told you to stick by me, didn’t I?”

Michael hated being held by the neck like a cat being reprimanded by its owner, “I told you that I don’t have time for this crap. I have things to do.”

“Like what?” a lean con sporting a goatee asked. “What you got to do that’s so important?” The shorter man circled Michael slowly licking his lips, “I dare to say that you are even prettier in the natural light. That dreary lighting in the Cellblock does not do you justice.”

Michael could tell by the man’s mannerism and confidence that this con was feared despite his small physical stature and Michael found himself wondering how such a non-threatening looking man could be so intimidating and powerful in a place like Fox River.

“You better answer me boy,” the con warned. “I don’t like being ignored.”

Michael looked down at the prisoner and smirked, “You must be T-Bag.”

“And you Michael Scofield are an enigma,” T-Bag began. “I accidentally got a hold of your file and imagine what I found out about you.”

“Accidentally,” Michael frowned.

“Yeah, it just sort of showed up in my cell earlier this morning,” T-Bag smiled. “It seems that are boy here is an educated man with no priors. He’s a regular Boy Scout who decided one day out of the blue that he was bored and wanted to rob a bank just for the hell of it.”

Michael looked away from T-Bag and looked across the Yard towards the part of the grounds where the Death Row cons got their outside time and saw his brother crouching up against the wall. He wanted to go over towards Lincoln, who was pinned in by a fence, but the Purity surrounded him on all sides. His detailed-oriented mind paid little attention to the shorter man in front of him and instead focused on the details of the Yard; including the buildings surrounding it, the records building which housed the Warden, the Asylum, and the Infirmary. The Infirmary was the key to his whole plan; the building from which they would escape.

“Am I boring you Scofield?” T-Bag asked. “I’m not used to my family members ignoring me.”

Michael tore his attention away from the Infirmary to look back at the annoying man, “What makes you special T? Why are the others at your beckon call?”

T-Bag stepped up closer to the insolent fish, “Because Pretty…I’m the devil incarnated.”

Michael smirked, “You don’t look like much.”

“Ain’t your mama told you to never judge a book by its cover?” T asked. “Oh, that’s right, your mama died when you was real young, didn’t she? And you don’t know anything about your daddy, do you?”

“How do you know that?” Michael asked. His medical form had asked information about his date of birth and his occupation but never anything about his family or his education.

T-Bag’s eyes roamed up and down Michael’s tense body, “You’d be surprised what types of information the D.O.C. collects on its prisoners, and you are quite a catch; educated, rich, of course you lost everything when you robbed that bank for no reason.”

“I had my reasons,” Michael defended.

“And those would be what?” T-Bag asked.

“None of your business,” Michael replied.

“When it comes to my family, I make everything my business,” T-Bad hinted. “You ain’t no different from all the other cum-guzzling pretty boys who come through that gate. You’ll learn that soon enough Pretty.”

“Yard time’s over Ladies!” a guard yelled across the prison grounds.

T-Bag stepped away from Michael, “I’ll be seeing you real soon.”

“Can’t wait,” Michael sarcastically replied as he turned to walk towards the building entrance. He could feel T-Bag and Ripper’s eyes on him as they all made their way back into the prison back onto the Cellblock. He hadn’t expected for the cons to find out about his real life and the thought of what could be in his prison file made him nervous. He worried that the D.O.C. had figured out that he had a brother; a man that just so happen to be in the same prison; a man with a different last name due to his father abandoning Michael before he was even born. He reasoned that the authorities didn’t know about Lincoln because if they did they never would have allowed Michael’s request to be sent to Fox River when he was sentenced to five years in prison only two days earlier.

Ripper waited until Michael stepped back inside their cell before commenting on Michael’s rude behavior, “For an educated man you sure are stupid.” Ripper pressed the smaller man towards the back of the cell as the bars slid closed, “T-Bag is the one man you do not want to piss off. The man raped and killed six boys and girls down in Alabama, and he hasn’t stopped his killing ways inside these walls if you know what I mean.”

Michael could feel the tiny sink up against his lower back as the larger man pressed him into the hard surface, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, but I will not be yours or his girlfriend.”

“We’ll just see about that now want we?” Rip beamed. “Maybe I should have let those blacks have you; let them fuck you and choke you with their cocks until you laid bleeding on the floor. Would you like for me to arrange that fish?”

Michael swallowed hard in dread, “And you would be different how?”

Ripper placed his hands on the counter beside Michael’s hips, “We give something back in return where all they do is use you and toss you out with the rest of the trash.” Ripper placed his mouth close to Michael’s ear, “I see it happening all the time to the boys who refuse our protection.”

Michael stayed still feeling Ripper’s hot breath on his neck and ear, “I have to admit that I’m surprised that you let these so called boys refuse you.”

“We’re not rapist Michael…Well, most of us aren’t anyway,” Ripper snickered. “We may pressure and coerce…but ultimately, our boys come willingly to us.”

“You mean reluctantly,” Michael added.

“I suppose so,” Ripper admitted. “And I’m sure it’s humiliating having to service us when we snap our fingers, but it’s still better than being fucked to death in a brutal African-styled gang-bang.”

“That’s debatable,” Michael curtly replied.

Ripper looked down at Michael and grinned, “I have to say that you got some balls on you boy.” Ripper suddenly backed away from the sink and jumped up onto his bunk, “Get some rest fish. You’re going to need it.”

************************************

Michael looked at his watch as he and the other prisoners were escorted back outside for more Yard time. It was only 1 PM, but it felt like he had already been in Fox River for an eternity. He looked over at a table on the side of the Yard and spotted John Abruzzi playing cards with his Mob friends. Without John and his outside connections, Michael’s plan would be greatly hampered, so he made his way over to meet with the man.

“Where you going Scofield,” Ripper asked when the smaller man veered from course.

“I need to talk to another con,” Michael informed his nosy cellie continuing to walk towards the most powerful man in Fox River.

“And who would that be?”

“John Abruzzi,” Michael admitted as he approached the Sicilian.

Ripper placed his foot out in front of Michael causing the younger man to trip and fall into Ripper’s waiting arms, “I don’t think so fish.”

Michael struggled in Rip’s arms, “I have to meet him.”

“No way,” Ripper restated enjoying the feel of the lithe body worming up against his own hard body.

“You don’t understand,” Michael pleaded. “I have to talk to him.”

“You two have a problem?” a guard called out.

Ripper released Michael, “We’re good Boss.” The Purity member placed his hand on Michael’s lower back and pushed him towards the bleachers where T-Bag and the others were waiting. “You pull something like that again and I will gut you sternum to belly, you understand?”

“Yes,” Michael halfhearted answered.

Ripper shoved Michael onto the bottom bleacher, “We don’t mess with those greasy mother fuckers and they don’t mess with us, get it?”

“Of course he does,” T-Bag smiled as he stood beside the seated Michael. “Pretty here is just a little slow on the reality of prison life.”

Michael noticed that a blonde boy was holding onto T-Bag’s pocket for dear life, “Is this your girlfriend?”

T-Bag patted the boy’s hand affectionately, “This here is Maytag.”

Maytag for his part looked on in jealousy at the new fish and held onto T-Bag’s pocket tighter. He had started out as just another victim of Theodore Bagwell, a notorious pedophile rapist, but over the months Maytag had developed a fondness for the other man who protected him from the other cons. He sensed that T-Bag wanted the pretty Scofield and that made him feel insecure.

Michael knew that Maytag was prison slang for a submissive sex slave and he silently wondered if T-Bag would attempt to make him a Maytag before all was said and done. Michael noticed Maytag’s apprehension and wanted to reassure the younger man, “Don’t worry. T-Bag’s all yours.”

T-Bag slapped Maytag’s hand away from his turned out pocket, “Is that a fact?” T-Bag sat down beside Michael and placed his hand on the younger man’s knee, “Don’t you think I get something to say about that? I mean after all…I do have two pockets.”

“Not interested,” Michael replied allowing T-Bag’s hand to remain on his knee for the time being.

T-Bag looked across the Yard at the group of black inmates who were standing around glaring at his family, “You see those black panthers over there Scofield? If I don’t protect you they are going to skin you alive just for the fun of it. They already think you’re one of us and with the racial tensions building…you would be a likely target.”

“I said I’m not interested,” Michael reaffirmed.

T-bag squeezed Michael’s knee tighter, “I can see that you are conflicted, so I am willing to let your attitude slide for the moment, but I promise that a time will come real soon when I will sample my merchandise.”

Michael whipped his head around and looked the infamous murderer in the eye, “Your merchandise? What the hell are you talking about?”

T-Bag stood up, licked his lips, twirled his tongue inside his mouth, and bent down to get closer to Michael’s face, “You’ll find out soon enough Pretty.”

“Scofield,” Bellick yelled across the Yard hating to pull the boy away from the clutches of the Purity. Bellick looked on in delight at the paleness of Scofield’s flesh and he could practically feel the waves of trepidation and fear coming off the boy, “Doc wants to see you Scofield.”

Michael practically darted towards the guard relieved to get away from the aggressive cons, “I’m ready Boss.”

Bellick grabbed the new con by the arm and led him away from the Purity, “I bet you are Scofield.”

Bellick walked the prisoner through the Yard and into the main prison building to the monitor station, “Give me your wrists.” He watched as Michael placed his hands in front of his body and he placed handcuffs on Scofield’s wrists, “How you liking it here so far?” He grabbed Michael’s bicep again and began escorting his prisoner towards the Infirmary. “I hope that Ripper is treating you well.”

“It’s all good,” Michael lied.

“As good as Loyola University or a high rise condo in the sky,” Bellick asked having read the contents of Scofield’s file. He had in turn shared the knowledge with T-Bag for some extra cash.

Michael didn’t find it hard to believe that Bellick had read his personal information and had passed it onto to the rapist, “The view here isn’t as nice.”

“I don’t know about that. You seem to have brightened up the place a bit,” Bellick smirked. “All those cons fighting over your affection and it’s only been a few hours. How long you think it’s going to take before one of them insists on getting to know you better?”

“I’m sure you’ve already placed your bet Boss,” Michael sneered in disgust.

“You bet your sweet ass I have,” Bellick laughed turning Scofield to the left as they arrived outside the Infirmary building. “I’m betting that ass gets tapped before sundown.”

Michael’s eyes widened in undisguised shock, “You’re a sadistic pig.”

Bellick smiled ear-to-ear, “Usually I would throw you in the SHU for using that tone of voice with me but that would take away from all the fun to come, now wouldn’t it?”

Bellick saw Officer Stolte at the Infirmary entrance and handed Scofield off to his fellow guard, “See you later fishy.”

Michael remained silent as the guard walked him through the halls of the Infirmary trying to push Bellick, Ripper, and T-Bag out of his mind, but to no avail. He had told himself that nothing including fear would derail him from his plan, but Ripper had already kept him from Abruzzi and Bellick had screwed him on cell assignments.

Stolte walked the fish into the waiting room, “I got Scofield here for you Doc.”

A young petite woman appeared in the door way of the exam room and smiled softly, “Bring him in please.”

Michael was escorted into the examining room, made to sit on the exam table, and was thankfully relieved of his cuffs. He watched as Dr. Sara Tancredi readied herself for the exam. Michael watched as her soft red hair fell onto her shoulders as she snapped on her latex gloves. He had researched and memorized every aspect of Sara’s life over the last few months and his plan involved the good Doctor as well as her Infirmary.

Sara refused to admire the perfect blue eyes of Michael Scofield and instead focused on his tattooed arm as he pushed up his sleeve. She took the hypodermic filled with insulin and injected the prisoner with his needed medicine. “That tattoo looks fresh.” She pressed a cotton swab to his arm, “Hold that.” She took off her latex gloves and tossed them into the trash, “I guess with you being a diabetic you don’t mind the needles.”

Michael smiled, “I’m Michael by the way.”

Sara grabbed her patient’s medical file and made some quick notes, “Scofield, I read your report.”

“And you are,” Michael nonchalantly asked.

“Doctor Tancredi will do.”

Michael’s brows arched in feigned surprise, “Tancredi like the Governor? You’re not related are you?” He watched as the Doctor continued to scribble notes in his folder, “Hmm, wouldn’t think you'd find the daughter of Frontier Justice Frank working in a prison; as a doctor no less.”

Sara put the folder down on her knee, “I believe in being part of the solution. Not the problem.”

Michael absently stared off at the wall in thought, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” Michael noticed Sara looking at him strangely. “What?”

“Nothing, that was just my senior quote,” Sara replied trying hard not to stare at her patient’s perfect mouth.

“Really,” Michael flirtingly responded. “This whole time I thought it was Gandhi.”

Sara laughed softly and pointed at the cotton swab Michael held on his arm, “You’re very funny. Put direct pressure on that and I’ll be right back.”

Michael watched the Doctor until she was out of the room and out of sight. He dashed over towards the drainage grate near the sink, pulled out an origami crane, and dropped it through the slit on the grate into the water drainage system. He hoped that the water would carry the paper crane down the pipes out into the Yard and get stopped by the magazine he had dropped earlier.

He made his way towards the barred window and looked at the heavy-duty black cable that connected the Infirmary building to a light pole on the adjacent prison wall. He looked at the fortified prison wall seeing the spiraling barbed wire on top that would slice and dice any man that attempted to climb over them.

Michael heard Sara enter the room and turned to look at her, “So how do we play this? You hook me up with a few weeks supply?”

Sara watched Michael sitting back down on the exam table admiring his grace, “Nice try, but no hypos on the floor.”

“I’m the farthest thing from a junkie. Trust me,” Michael insisted.

Sara frowned, “I've got news for you Michael; trust me means absolutely zero inside these walls. The only way you're getting that insulin is if I'm administering it.”

“Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then,” Michael grinned as the next part of the plan was set into motion.

“I guess so,” Sara replied smiling as she left the exam room informing the guard that she was through with the prisoner pretending that her new patient did not make her heart flush in excitement.

*****************************************************

As Michael was escorted back to the cellblock and released from the cuffs, he mentally checked off the parts of the plan he had managed to set into motion. The origami crane was on its way into the Yard via the drainage system which dumped into the sewer tunnels beneath the old prison, and he had managed to meet Sara and scoped out the Infirmary in the process. However, he had not managed to see Lincoln or meet John Abruzzi thanks to the Purity’s interference. Michael could not afford any wasted time. His plan hinged on a tight schedule that could not be deviated from if he hoped to save Lincoln before May 11th; the day set for his brother’s execution. Michael had only a month to break his brother out of prison and he couldn’t afford to let some racist pedophile get in his way.

Michael entered the cellblock making his way slowly to the metal stairs not really wanting to go back to his cell where Ripper awaited him. It was tier-time and he paid little attention to the other inmates as they scampered back and forth across the main floor to chat with other inmates. Instead, Michael focused on Linc and what needed to take place before the end of the day.

“What you thinking about Pretty?” T-Bag asked as he snaked his way over towards Fox River’s newest addition. “Your pretty little head looks like it’s getting ready to explode.”

“Nothing you’d understand,” Michael sneered wishing that the rapist would leave him the fuck alone.

“Ripper warned me you had a mouth on you,” T-Bag grinned. “And it sure is a pretty mouth…can’t wait to get better acquainted with it.”

“Not happening,” Michael informed the older man before side-stepping away from the other con.

T-Bag placed his arm out to stop Michael, “Just keep telling yourself that Pretty.”

Michael looked intently into the shorter man’s eyes, “I’ll be sure to do that.”

T-Bag tilted his head backwards checking out the ass on his merchandise, “That’s a nice piece of tail you got there…I hope you realize that it’s now my piece of tail.”

Michael pushed T-Bag’s arm away in disgust, “Not in this lifetime.”

“You keep talking to me like that boy and I will have to find something to put in your mouth,” T-bag leered suggestively. “Have any guess on what that’d be?” Bagwell watched Scofield’s face intently looking for signs of intimidation and fear, but the boy held his game face well, “I give you a hint Pretty. It’s about seven inches long and it’s…”

“Lock up in one minute!” Bellick interrupted yelling from the control room.

T-Bag leaned in close to Michael brushing his shoulder up against Michael’s back, “You get along for now little doggy, but I’d stay out of dark corners if I was you.”

Michael astutely remained silent and walked quickly up the metal stairs to the second-tier attempting to get to his cell before the bars closed him out. As he was walking towards his cell, he spotted Sucre getting ready to go into his own cell, “Sucre, right?”

“What’s it to you fish?” the Puerto Rican asked.

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” Michael explained. He needed someone who could show him the ropes and introduce him to other inmates. “I’m Michael Scofield.”

Sucre looked towards the cell next door noting the menacing bulk of Ripper who was staring daggers at Scofield, “I’m not interested fish. Leave me alone.”

“Get in here fish,” Ripper barked. “The Spic doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

Sucre shot Ripper a warning but he knew that it was best to ignore the new inmate and leave him to his own fate, “You got that right.”

Michael watched as Sucre went into his own cell and kept his back towards him, “See you in the Yard then.”

“I don’t think so,” Ripper informed the defiant fish. “Get your ass in here before you get locked out and thrown into the Shoe.”

Michael reluctantly walked into the cell not wanting to get locked into solitary confinement, “When is Chapel time?”

“When I say it is,” Ripped grinned.

Michael sighed in frustration and sat down on his bottom bunk, “I need to go to the Chapel.”

“Why,” Ripper asked in curiosity. “You need to pray about something?”

Michael knew that Death Row prisoners were allowed to visit the Chapel daily, and he knew that Lincoln would go just to get out of his cell, “You could say that…”

Part III coming soon.
Feedback is appreciated and is motivating:
darkestangel@darknessprevails.com