'Defying the Odds' - Michael Scofield x Reader // Prison Break Fanfiction

Chapter Eight

"Apparently, college boy here did the math. Figured out that we got too many clowns in the car. So, one of us is in here digging, but their seat ain't guaranteed," C-Note said.

Y/N stood in the corner watching this over as she glanced at Michael who looked incredibly stressed. She wanted to reach out to him, hold him and reassure him. However, she held her book in her hand and kept her head down.

"How's this your problem, man?" Lincoln spoke up, walking over.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about," Michael spoke up, hands in pocket with a toque on while looking over the crowd.

"I'm not gonna dig if I'm not gonna go," Sucre stated, throwing down a tool.

"We need to make a decision on who gets cut," Lincoln spoke out.

"Well, I think we can all agree who that should be, right?" Abruzzi said referencing T-Bag.

"I agree," Y/N whispered, pushing off the wall and standing beside Michael.

Just then the door opened and T-Bag came in. Everyone glanced over at him while Y/N squeezed Michael's hand before dropping it, a small sign of reassurance.

"Pardon me for interrupting," T-Bag said, hands up as he entered into the storage room. "But, what's that smell?" He sniffed the air then smirked. "It smells a little like conspiracy."

Michael took his hat off and stated, "We need to get back to work."

"Yeah, before you do, I have an announcement to make. I've been growing leery the way you all talk," T-Bag said with his hands on his hips. "Like I'm a lesser man. So, I bought a insurance policy," he told the crowd glancing over.

Y/N looked at Michael who focused on T-Bag, calculating and thinking his words through.

"I called up my guy on the outside and told him about our plan. And I told him in all likelihood I'll be seeing him next week. But, if he don't hear from me five minutes before the escape and twenty minutes after, I told him to call up the Warden, blow the whistle on the whole thing. So, if you all got ideas about getting rid of me, I suggest you make other plans," he stated.

Michael looked at her and she gave him a look of fear.

When they left the storage room, Michael and Y/N walked together up the yard. She glanced over to him and whispered, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he responded. "But you're coming."

-

Y/N sat in the infirmary, staring blankly at the tiled floor as she waited for Dr. Remington to finish reviewing her chart. The sterile smell of disinfectant and the distant hum of medical equipment made her feel on edge. Her fingers absentmindedly touched the heading gash on her stomach, a reminder of the attack she still had not spoken about.

Dr. Remington entered, offering her a warm smile as he adjusted the glasses he is wearing.

"I like the glasses, makes you look extremely dashing," she complimented as she laid on the hospital bed.

"I've seen you with your reading glasses," he mused back, "reading those Austen books. Quite intellectual and inspiring, might I say," he complimented as he sat down next to her. "Now, how are you feeling? Any unusual pain? And do you have anything you'd like to tell me about what happened?"

Y/N averted her gaze, her jaw tightening. She had no intention of revealing the person who attacked her. If she did, there would be consequences – ones she was not prepared to face. "Nope, nope and nope. I'm fine."