Will he or won’t he? (Hint: Of course he won’t.)
So um. Season finale? I’m pretty sure this wasn’t intended as such, but that’s what they’re calling it. I guess they’ll do a little mini-season in the fall made up of whatever was supposed to happen in the back half of season 3? They can’t possibly do another full season, because really, there’s only so much prison breaking a guy can do. Anyway, this is the last one for the foreseeable future, so hey, season finale it is! Let’s see what they can manage to tie up.3.13 The Art of the Deal. So you may recall that last week’s episode ended with Whistler leaping from Prison Break Abandoned Warehouse #498 and running as fast as his totally not injured legs could carry him, then stealing a truck and speeding away. Sneaky bastard. We begin this week with Michael and Linc remembering they have a car, with which they begin a good old-fashioned jerkily edited car chase. They follow Whistler into downtown Dallas, I mean, Panama City, where he’s cornered and has to leave his new truck behind in the middle of the road and take off on foot. He loses the brothers long enough to borrow a cellphone and call Gretchen to come and pick him up. “Where are you?” she asks. “Nmmmgghhhh!” he replies, on account of Linc has just clocked him square in the jaw. Linc smash! Linc picks up the phone and is all “hey, Susan!” “If anything happens to him…” she begins to threaten, but Linc reminds her that Whistler’s wellbeing depends on LJ and Sofia. He punctuates this with a kick to the sternum. Heh. That one was just for his own amusement. She’s at the warehouse, ready to do the exchange – where are they? Um, chasing after your pal Whistler the totally innocent fisherman, of course. Michael catches up with them and begins to formulate a new plan since the warehouse one is kind of shot to hell. Linc, hilariously, tells Gretchen/Susan he’ll call her back. Whistler is still protesting his innocence – he was just trying to fix this so no one else would get hurt! Approaching sirens cut their conversation short, which is lucky for Whistler, cause I bet Linc wasn’t done with the punching and the kicking.
T-Mac and Daddy Mac are approaching one of the roadblocks. T-Mac squeals that he can’t go back to Sona, but the more-adorable-by-the-minute Papa McGrady tells him he won’t have to. A cop approaches and we see that T-Mac is no longer in the truck. The policeman shows Daddy Mac some hilariously crude sketches of the escaped prisoners, and I’m thinking T-Mac could totally have stayed right there in the passenger seat, because his sketch depicts a very handsome young man who looks nothing like him except for his mop of curly locks. He looks like one of the New Kids on the Block, and Michael looks like Lex Luthor, so really, they could probably just stroll by unmolested. Anyway, Mac Daddy is all “I am so sorry that I cannot help you, officer!” but apparently he looks nervous enough for them to search his truck. They’re kind of mean to him and it makes me angry.
“I’m terribly sorry, officer, but no, I have not seen 7-time All-Star Houston Rockets starting guard Tracy McGrady.”
Poooooooor Sucre. Seriously, let’s give it up for Sucre, who is totally being all kinds of noble and shit. Evidently, he’s been getting the everliving snot kicked out of him for some time, now that they know he knows Michael, but all the blood seems to indicate he’s not giving them what they want. The guy who’s been questioning him all this time, who I guess is his boss, says he knew something was wrong with Sucre the first day he started there. “Maybe you’ll get to be employee of the month!” Sucre hilariously slurs through a mouthful of blood and spit and possibly teeth. Awesome. After a nod of approval from the new General, they drag Sucre and his smart ass outside.
Gretchen gets a call from Michael, and she’s delighted to finally meet the brains of the operation. He tells her to meet them downtown in the Plaza de Francia in ten minutes, alone.
T-Bag is led back into the Sona yard and finds absolute pandemonium. Like, the kind of riot that probably scared all the guards off in the first place, except with more paper than I would have expected. Lechero, bleeding from his bullet to the gut, is being kicked and prodded. Bellick pulls T-Bag aside and warns him to stay away from Lechero, what with everyone in the entire place hating him and everything. Teodoro, out of the goodness of his heart (ha! Get it?), says he can’t just leave him there. He shoos everyone away and helps Patron up to his penthouse. It’s being looted, but Lechero uses what strength he has left to wave his gun around and chase the thieves off. Bellick and his still-hilarious Tiger Pants are worried that Lechero’s going to get them killed, but T-Bag hisses that actually, he’s going to get them out of there.
Mahone has found himself a nice fishin’ hat, and wanders into an empty bar. He orders a club soda. Wow, taking that sobriety thing all the way, eh Mahone? The barkeep tries to make polite conversation, asking what Mahone did in the States. “I’m kind of in a transitional period right now,” he understates hilariously. “Between jobs.” The bartender says he’s sure something will come along, and Mahone is hoping it’s right around the corner. Hmmmm.
The Sona guys really have a thing for prisoner-specific torture methods. Last week it was threatening to fry T-Bag’s genitals, which I think we can all agree was a great idea that never really got a fair chance; this week it’s burying Sucre alive. You know, cause he’s the gravedigger. They take his phone away and when he still refuses to give up Michael, they hand him the shovel and force him to dig.
“Hallo! My name is Michael Scofield. You kill my not-quite girlfriend. Prepare to die.”
Back in town at the Plaza de Francia, Gretchen finds Michael, who is smirking the smirkiest smirk that ever smirked. She demands to know where Whistler is and he points him out, sitting at a table with Linc just over his shoulder. “You know, you’re the first to ever break out of Sona,” she tells him. Yeah yeah, heard it all before, lady. He completely ignores her and just impatiently asks where the hostages are. She makes a call to bring them out. While they’re waiting, she keeps at him, telling him she’s worked with a lot of smart people, but he’s the super extra best. “Maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about the Company trying to kill you if you were on their side.” She raises an excellent point but Michael is not interested. Behind her he sees LJ and Sofia being herded over by three of Gretchen’s henchmen. We also see that Linc’s giant bald head is in the crosshairs of a nearby sniper. Ah, snipers. Sigh. I miss Kellerman. Anyway, Linc calmly gets up and leads Whistler away – this isn’t the exchange point, this is just confirmation that everyone’s okay. She’ll get a call in five minutes with her next instructions. Michael enjoys running the show. It looks good on him. He says that when it’s over, he and Gretchen will spend some quality time together. She suggests that when it’s over he better run for his life.
We’re back at the roadblock, where cars are being searched by cops and dogs. Mac Daddy has pulled over and there’s this whole scene designed to give us heartburn, but the end result is that the mean old cops are totally rude to Mac Daddy, and when they search the bed of his truck they only find fertilizer. Which presumably covers up the scent of any NBA players he might have hiding under there. He drives off all meekly and T-Mac sort of pops out of a little compartment behind the cab of the truck, and I don’t really get where he was hiding or why they didn’t look harder if they were so suspicious, but the point is, whew! T-Mac thanks his Papa, who just smiles and says they have one more stop. They head for the Colombian border.
The riot/ticker tape parade at Sona continues, and Bellick is pissing his Tiger Pants about it. Lechero looks pretty bad off. T-Bag pours what looks like hydrogen peroxide into his gaping bullet wound, which, ow, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, Teodoro. He’s still sucking up to Lechero, who still isn’t entirely sure whether he’s full of shit or not. T-Bag tells him that hey, you know what, I think I remember one of the guards offering to take a bribe! You have access to money, right? We can all get out of here! Lechero, to his credit, is skeptical. He’s not giving T-Bag access to any of his money. T-Bag huffs that in that case he’ll just die right there in that penthouse. Good plan, T-Bag. Let’s see how that works out.
Michael calls Gretchen: “The lobby of the Museum of Antiquities,” he says. An afternoon in a museum with you sounds just delightful, Michael! Gretchen is just annoyed, though. She gives Michael a lecture on supervillain strategy, and how he’s overthinking things and it’s going to end badly and blah blah. Michael tells her she has five minutes and hangs up. He grabs a handful of something from the gift shop and pockets it. Gretchen and her crew climb the steps to the museum with LJ and Sofia in tow. And ha, Gretchen huffs and rolls her eyes, because the museum has metal detectors at the entrance. So firstly, ha, clever, and secondly, what happened at the Museum of Antiquities that would lead to weapons searches of every single person that walks in? Rough neighborhood! “You know what to do,” Gretchen growls at one of her minions. She hands him her gun and dismisses them, and LJ is just standing there looking at her with genuine amusement. He’s got this dorky school-picture kind of smile on and frankly it’s adorable. Anyway, he thinks it’s funny that Gretchen thinks she can outsmart Michael. She just marches them both in ahead of her, LJ still grinning.
“Hooray! I get to wear an expression of something other than wide-eyed terror!”
Michael calls as soon as she gets there, and wow, this entire series has had a disproportionate amount of action happen over phones. He says to meet them in southwest corner and she agrees but that’s it, she’s tired of his tour, she wants Whistler pronto or LJ gets his neck snapped. See, that’s much more efficient than painstakingly disarticulating his head from his body with a kitchen knife. She’s learning! She checks on her guys to see if they’re in position – they are, at multiple exit doors, guns drawn.
At Sona, T-Bag is being all passive-aggressive, acting like an angry housewife. He melodramatically brings Lechero his last bottle of rum, so he can just sit in that chair and die if that’s what he wants! Fine! He starts to storm out in a huff but Lechero stops him at the door and asks how much they’d have to pay off the guards to get out of there. Fifty thousand, says T-Bag. He’s still unsure. Even if he did have the money on the outside somewhere, who could he trust to bring it to Sona? T-Bag has someone in mind.
Gretchen marches Sofia and LJ through the museum, ignoring Sofia’s meek curiosity: “How do you know James?” Michael, Linc and Whistler are waiting for them, and they do that whole “we want our guy first!” “Not till you give us our guy!” thing and Michael wins. LJ runs over to them, and he lets Whistler go to poor poor confused Sofia. He’s all smelling her hair and thanking god she’s safe and she’s like, okay, but could you clear some stuff up for me right quick? “What about the coordinates?” she asks as Gretchen prepares to leave. “Is she serious?” Gretchen wonders snottily. Whistler’s all, “d’oh!” He tells Sofia he’ll explain to her later, the important thing is that she’s safe, blah blah, and Gretchen finally can’t handle it anymore. She’s tired of jumping through hoops to keep his princess in a bubble; it’s time to go! Sofia’s getting pretty freaked out. He asks Gretchen just to give him a second with Sofia but she just blurts out “there are no coordinates!” Sofia is speechless. She walks over to Linc. Whistler begs her to listen but Gretchen tells him to shut up and get over it so they can leave. She realizes that Michael and Linc have just been standing there this whole time, and wonders what the hell they’re still doing here. Michael, calmly, “if I were you, and I couldn’t bring weapons inside, I’d have agents at every exit.” He has a different plan for leaving the building. He jams his elbow into a display case and sets off the burglar alarm. Smartypants! “We’re all walking out of here,” he says. “Together.” Dun! Dun dun!
Michael isn’t worried about the police – they’re not looking for an escaped con, they’re looking for a thief. They all stroll through calmly along with the other evacuating museum visitors. Whistler is still going with the “whatever I told you, it was to protect you, I’ll explain everything,” etc., but Sofia’s not listening. She’s probably cursing herself for helping this douchebag when all this time she could have been climbing Linc like a coconut tree.
Sucre has finished digging his own shallow grave, and his crazy sadistic boss comes over to smirk at him. Is he ready to talk about Michael? No? Then down in the hole you go! He kisses Maricruz’s crucifix, makes the sign of the cross, and lies there praying, ready to die protecting his friends. Badass, Sucre. Way to man up. They start shoveling dirt onto him.
Wow, does Michael ever owe you one, Papi.
Up in the penthouse, we are reminded that T-Bag has Whistler’s special bird book in his pocket. He gets a call saying the money will be there shortly. “Now that we have the money, how do we get it to the guard?” chokes a very unwell Lechero. “We don’t.” T-Bag answers matter-of-factly. Bellick freaks out in the background but neither of them pays him any attention. Lechero notices his gun is gone. Well dammit. Should have gone with plan A: don’t trust the squirrely little sycophant. It’s just business, says T-Bag. Lechero of all people should understand. He knows he’s pretty much dying anyway, so he kind of gives up, like, yeah, you got me! T-Bag tries to get a scared shitless Bellick to help him hold Lechero down, but Lechero’s like, eh, it’s just a matter of time anyway. He hands T-Bag a pillow and asks him, one thief to another, to make it quick. Isn’t that sweet. “Adios, Norman,” T-Bag says. He makes it as quick as suffocation by pillow can possibly be, which could only be even that quick on television, and it’s good night sweet prince for Lechero. Rest in peace, brother, and know that no matter how tempting it was, I never made an “Un-Colaâ„¢” joke about you. Incidentally, Bellick is absolutely shitting bees at this point, hovering in the corner, shaking and scared out of his damn mind.
On the way out of the museum, Michael et al are all searched. No weapons are found, but they do find an arrowhead in Whistler’s pocket. The one Michael stole from the gift shop. Heh. Gretchen irritably points out that it’s plastic, and could they please just get out of there, but the cops are suddenly interested in Whistler and where his identification is. Gretchen motions to one of her guys and he moves in to shoot, but a museum guard tackles him as his gun goes off and his aim is wonky. Sofia is caught in the crossfire, one to the chest. Linc runs for her, and despite LJ’s reasonable pleas for him to let the ambulance take care of her for now so they can get away from all these cops, he gets all manly and protective and won’t leave her side. Way to treat your firstborn you’ve spend the entire season trying to reunite with, Linc. Sheesh. LJ finally convinces Linc that he’ll take care of Sofia while Linc gets the hell out of Dodge, at least while there are cops around.
Whistler follows Gretchen back to her Kidnappin’ Van, then suddenly explodes and grabs her by the neck. “I ought to kill you right now for what you’ve done!” he yells, and is he talking about Sofia, or whatever secret crap they’ve been up to, or what? “I did what I had to do to get you out! Period!” She screams. She adds that he should remember what’s at stake here. What? What’s at stake? Why does it involve bird books and Panama? Meanwhile, Michael fetches a gun from their car and quietly aims at Gretchen but can’t bring himself to shoot her in the back. Or maybe he thinks that would be letting her off easy. Or maybe he thinks her butt looks real cute in those black jeans. He doesn’t get a chance to ponder any longer, because shots ring out from the museum steps. The guards have figured out where the first shot came from and are shooting at Gretchen’s minions, but they get away, Whistler safely in tow. “Stop the van,” he says melodramatically. “I can’t leave her. ” “She already left you” Gretchen reminds him. Oh, right. She asks him if he has everything, and he sheepishly admits that the book is gone. Wrong answer, James!
T-Bag meets with our old friend Sister Mary Puta. Good to see you, Sister! The first thing she does is confirm that Lechero is in fact dead. T-Bag says yes, and flights of angels sing him to his rest and all that, but he leaves out the part about the pillow-smothering. She has a giant bag of money and he tells her he just needs what he asked for, and to save the rest for later. He warns her politely that she might want to reconsider if she’s thinking about taking off with the rest of the money, as he has been known to have a bit of a temper problem when betrayed. She says a deal’s a deal; he’s done so much for her. Then, inexplicably, she puts her hand up to the fence and tenderly touches his fake rubber hand. I guess it’s not the grossest thing she’s had to touch in her line of work. Maybe not even the grossest thing today. She says she’ll wait for him. Iww.
The McGradys pull into an alley somewhere in Colombia. T-Mac looks a little scared as his Papa opens a door…into a huge beautiful courtyard full of McGradys and a big “Bienvenido Luis” banner. Mama McGrady, from whom T-Mac inherited his springy curls, bounces joyfully up to hug him. T-Mac looks kind of surprised but overjoyed. Brothers and cousins and whatnot all settle in for a nice big group hug. Awww.
They’ve obviously been working on Sucre for some time now, because he’s almost completely buried. They’re barking at him to tell them where Michael is, and only his face is sticking out of the dirt. Finally, the General realizes this isn’t working. They pull him out of the dirt, much to his old sadistic-but-kind-of-hot boss’s chagrin. We all breathe a sigh of relief, for the four seconds before Sucre’s phone starts ringing inside the guard’s pocket. “If it’s him, you find out where they are,” he barks, then gives Sucre the phone. This whole episode has reminded me why I like Sucre, and it’s downright heartwarming to see him smile and tell Michael that everything is fine. Michael is relieved to hear that – he was worried when Sucre didn’t show up with the boat. Sucre understates that he just got into a little trouble at work. He asks about LJ, which, aww, and when Michael asks him again if everything’s okay, he says “I’m fine. Everything worked out!” He smiles like he means it. He then quickly says “I’m about to get on a bus, Papi, take care,” then immediately crushes the phone underfoot. So badass. This act of defiance pisses the guard off and he shoves his gun into Sucre’s neck. Sucre’s like, pthhbt, kill me if you want, but he doesn’t. They have something much less pleasant in store for him, i.e., the other side of that Sona fence.
“YOU get a dollar! And YOU get a dollar! And YOU get a dollar!”
T-Bag stands on a crate in the middle of the yard and proclaims: “Lechero is dead!” He then proceeds to convince everyone that having one of their own dictate them is not how things should work. All cons are equal! Universal healthcare! School vouchers! Vote Bagwell in 08! Oh, also, here’s this blood money he made off of you, and T-Bag’s giving it right back! There you go, stimulate the economy. He’s just throwing bills around everywhere and they’re eating it up. A broken, battered, and dirty Sucre is led in at this exact moment, and just think for a few seconds about what he’s looking at: not only is he in a nightmarish prison, he’s in a nightmarish prison being run, apparently, by freaking T-Bag. You poor bastard. Wanna change your story about Michael?
LJ checks on Sofia in the hospital and reports back that she’s okay. And dammit, I didn’t see this coming and it totally makes me weep like a girl. “Uncle Mike,” LJ says. “I wanted to wait till we were safe to do this.” He says he found something in the room where they kept Sara, and he thought Michael would want to have it. You guys, it’s the goddamn origami flower. Like, the first one. We get a heartbreaking flashback to when he left it on her desk for her, back when she still had a job and a dad and a head. Gah! This totally kills me, even though I really should have seen it coming. Michael is all shiny-eyed himself, but he also looks like he’s remembering “oh right, I have a squinty, knife-happy bitch to exact revenge upon! I better get on that.” He’s sort of lost in thought but he overhears LJ telling Linc that Sofia hid something under her bed. Something to do with Whistler. This gets Michael’s immediate attention. Linc wants to drop it but Michael isn’t finished with this thing. He wants to know what it is.
Mahone and his fishing hat are still drinking ginger ale, which is really annoying when you’re a bartender so I hope he’s tipping well. He’s staring pointedly at the Banco Sol across the street. The door opens and someone approaches. “You’re late,” Mahone says, “and you owe him for my drinks.” Please let it be Kellerman, please let it be Kellerman, I think, hoping against hope. But no, it’s actually…Whistler! Which is interesting, since he has “Alex Mahone” scribbled in the bird book T-Bag is currently carrying around. He gives the bartender a hundred to give them some privacy, so whew, I feel better for that guy. When Mahone remarks that it’s a nice tip, Whistler gestures outside to a squinty bitchfaced Gretchen and says “she handles the money.” Mahone says she better be able to handle a lot more than that. If she’s really done what Whistler things she has, i.e., Sara, then she’s the weak link. Michael will find all of them, and Mahone’s not paying for Whistler’s mess. Huh? Whistler just asks if he’s in or out. He’s in. In what? In what???
Michael breaks Sofia’s patio door with his elbow and breaks in. Guys, I’m sure she would have given you a key. Sheesh. Also, that’s the second time today Michael has shattered glass with his elbow. I hope he at least switched sides. He uses Linc’s gun to bash open the briefcase Sofia found in Whisler’s fishing bag, and inside is a dossier. On someone named Jason Lief. At the risk of sounding repetitive: huh? Michael takes it, saying “if he’s important to Whistler, he’s important to me.” Linc is over it – can’t they just go sell bait somewhere and let these guys be all evil or whatever? Michael reminds Linc that they killed Sara, and he has to go after them. Linc reluctantly but understandingly gives him the car keys. Michael thanks him, they share a manly bear hug and Michael is off without another word.
“You smell so. bad. Who the hell wears corduroy in freaking Panama?”
Underneath a pretty, mournful a capella Spanish vocal, we see Whistler and Gretchen drive off, Mahone smirking in the backseat. At his welcome home party, T-Mac wanders off by himself and smiles a huge adorable smile when he sees a real live basketball goal, complete with a rim and a net and everything. It’s very sweet. Bellick sinks to the floor of his cell in Sona, completely hopeless all over again. Sucre cautiously walks down the iconic Sona hallway. Linc holds Sofia’s hand as she lays in her hospital bed, groggy but okay. Cartoon hearts fly out of her eyeballs as she looks up at Linc. And Michael, all alone, speeds down a pretty coastal highway, with Sara’s flower artfully positioned on the passenger seat right next to Linc’s gun.
And that’s where they leave us. There! They leave us there! So does anybody know how they plan on handling this? I can’t imagine there’s another 22 episodes left in this thing, but it would kind of suck if we didn’t get the last 9 or 10 we were supposed to have this season. Because what the fuck? Jason Lief? Mahone? Whistler? Sister Mary Puta? Bird book? Wha?
So um. Hasta luego, I guess! Just in case we don’t get an ending, here’s one for you: T-Bag gets conned and stabbed by the nun-whore, who then sneaks Sucre out under her robes; Bellick’s mom comes and picks him up and he’s totally grounded; LJ, Linc, Sucre and Sofia buy a bait shop with Westmoreland’s money, which Linc finally remembers to salvage from the canal; Kellerman rolls in and teams up with Michael to kick some Company ass, then they all meet up and drink Mojitos and live happily ever after. The End! Oh, and the whole thing with Sara was just an elaborate ruse – she’s perfectly fine and Michael finally, finally gets laid, because after 2.5 seasons, he SO deserves it.