(Not Quite) The End of the Road

The penultimate episode of Prison Break Season Two, and hoo doggie! Dead hookers? Check. Kellerman in uniform? Check. Kellerman in a white T-shirt? Check. That right there is enough for a good episode, but we’ve also got screwdriver stabbings, double-crosses, triple-crosses, existential breakdowns, courtroom drama, Linc beating the hell out of people, and T-Bag saying “Bring it, bitch!” Not to mention the return of Michael’s patented Steely-Eyed Resolve, which coordinates nicely with his new blue hoodie. This is a good one, y’all. Bring it, bitches!2.21 “Fin del Camino.” (That’s “End of the Road” for you gringos.) We pick up where we left off, with Linc running around the Christina Rose yelling for Michael, who has disappeared to save the world from T-Bag. By which I mean, fall in to the giant trap Mahone has set. The beach is pretty and it makes me want to go to Destin. Linc re-reads the message from Sucre, which of course is totally not from Sucre, and could it be he’s suspicious? Linc has to be the rational one now that Michael’s woefully chaste relationship with Dr. Sara has turned him all schmoopy. A wise woman once said, “Love makes you do the wacky.”

T-Bag’s still rockin’ it old school with the 1984 Panama Jack outfit. He’s in his room at the Fin del Camino Hotel in Panama City, all antsy and fidgety. He picks up a slip of paper on which is scrawled “312 Ave Olivera, Second Floor, Red Door.” He steps out on to his balcony, and we see that he’s being watched by the New And Improved Blue Hoodie Michael, who’s right up there with White T Shirt Michael on the Dreaminess Scale. He’s eyeing him with so much steel he’s thrown right into a Fox River flashback – a montage we’ll call “Things Michael Didn’t Stop T-Bag From Doing But Feels Guilty About Even Though Doing So Would Probably Have Been Unwise And Also Possibly Fatal.” It serves to remind us all that wow, he’s a real son of a bitch, that one. Michael sees him make significant eye contact with someone at a sidewalk café, and follows his gaze to the Suits who were trailing T-Bag at the end of the last episode. Michael stares.

Mahone’s in a taxi, speeding down a deserted beach road. He calls Pam, and they talk about Cameron’s recovery from his “accident.” Mahone’s smiling. A lot. “Remember when I said the day would come when I’d be done? Leave the Bureau and never look back? Today’s that day.” He just has one more thing then everything else will fall into place. Yeah, years and years of viewing experience tells me that’s exactly how it’ll go down. Pam hopes he means it. He has to know: if he’s done with all this, would there be a chance? Pam: “I’m not saying no.” Mahone grins like he’s just asked her to Prom. He gets serious though, promising to make it right. She tells him just to be safe and hangs up. He immediately calls one of the Suits stationed outside T-Bag’s hotel to confirm he’s in position. Suit #1, who is cute, but no Kellerman, ducks and reaches for his ankle holster when he hears “Pow!powpowpow!” Turns out it’s just firecrackers in a trash can, but we pan up to reveal Hot Hoodie Michael smirking. A kid runs up to him with a handful of firecrackers: “Es bueno?” Michael says yeah, it’s totally bueno, and hands him some cash. I guess he wanted to see if the suits were armed?

Anyway, he de-hoods the hoodie and turns a corner, running right in to freaking Sucre. Sucre looks kind of horrified. “Michael?” Michael’s all “What’s wrong?” Bellick steps out from behind Sucre to greet Michael in crappy Spanish. Ahh, that’s what’s wrong. He guides them both to an only slightly less public area, the better to hold Michael at gunpoint and pat him down. Bellick’s all, oooh, Mr. Smartypants is down here sniffing out the money just like the rest of us! Michael says he’s only there because he wants T-Bag locked up. Bellick: “Aw. Dudley Freakin’ DoRight, huh?” Heh. Sucre was not prepared for this, and hurries to say he didn’t know Michael would be here. Michael’s like, whatchoo talkin’ bout, Sucre, you totally wrote me on the secret message board! Sucre’s all “Huh?” Michael doesn’t have time to contemplate that little revelation, because Bellick interrupts to ask if T-Bag’s in that hotel room. Michael says yeah, and a couple of Feds are staking it out across the street. Bellick’s still just holding a gun on him in broad daylight. He rants about how he didn’t come all the way out here to leave empty-handed, so Michael better help get the cash. Michael is so, so over Bellick. He says that’s unfortunate, on account of this is obviously a setup. “Get that little college boy brain of yours to work, then!” Bellick barks, and notes that if Michael doesn’t think he’s serious he can ask Sucre what lengths he’s prepared to go to.

Sucre explains the whole “pregnant girlfriend locked up somewhere” situation, and says he knows he’s not in a position to ask for it but he really needs Michael’s help. He calls him “papi” which is really charming. And effective, it looks like. “Are you in, or what?” Bellick and his gun want to know. Michael says to get the gun off him or he walks. I like how totally unconcerned he is, calling the shots even though he’s on the business end of the deadly weapon. Bellick relents. Michael says he’ll help, but they have to do exactly what he says. Sucre thanks Michael sincerely. Bellick: “Alright, Einstein! Whatcha thinkin’?

We’re in Chicago now and a reporter’s voice tells us it’s the third day of testimony in the trial of Dr. Sara Tancredi. Nuh-uh! It is not either! Alas, it really is, and the reporter tells us it’s looking good for the prosecution.

In court, her lawyer asks that The Tape be labeled Defense Exhibit D. The prosecutor objects, saying this is the very propaganda Michael Scofield blah blah blah. She says it’s hearsay. Sara’s lawyer says the witness is unavailable and his statement on the tape exonerates Sara. Oh right, it does! We’re talking about the Fox News Manifesto Tape, not the Iww, Icky President tape. The judge allows it and we see Michael, with nary a Fox logo or exciting news crawl at the bottom, telling the world that Sara had nothing to do with their escape. Sara watches TV Michael, all sad and scared.

Crap. Three frames of Kellerman in the previews sent me in to a full-on panic all week, and it looks like I’m about to find out if it’s justified. The same broadcast is on in the background as we pan over a military uniform (Army Ranger?) laid out on a motel bed, complete with some serious bling. Military bling, I mean, medals and stripes and things. It’s Kellerman! I missed him so much I want to hug him, and not just because he’s wearing a nice crisp white T-shirt, although thanks for that, wardrobe people. He grabs the remote and unceremoniously cuts the Fox News coverage of Sara’s trial off mid-sentence.

He’s polishing that giant ring he’s always wearing, and this is without question the least smirky Kellerman has ever been. Stop confirming my worst fears, show! He’s got all his medals of honor laid neatly out on the dresser, and the freshly polished ring completes the tableau.

He sits back in his chair, and, of course, because they want to give me a heart attack, checks his handgun. I mean, I guess suicide is a logical choice if you’re a secret government assassin who’s gone rogue, with any number of people wanting you as dead as possible, and on top of all that, your President girlfriend who you totally failed to assassinate has fake metaphorical cancer. But they can’t! They know how much we love Kellerman, right? Huh, Prison Break?

Sucre fiddles with some duct tape. “I’m gonna kill him,” he confides to Michael. Michael reminds him he’ll just go back to jail, but Sucre doesn’t care – they get the money, he finds out where Maricruz is, and Bellick is a dead man. Michael: “Bellick and T-Bag will get theirs, trust me.” Sucre laughs at Michael’s silly, silly optimism. “Didn’t Fox River teach you anything? It doesn’t make a difference if you’re guilty or innocent. It’s who survives.” Sucre, having just summed up the moral of the entire series, is on the verge of tears. Michael tells him he’s not That Guy, but Sucre says he is now. His accent gets stronger the more worked up he gets, which is either a nice touch or a cute accident. Michael says he’s here to help Sucre find Maricruz, not kill Bellick. He waxes philosophical, saying he knows it’s tempting, “but if we lose ourselves, we lose everything.” Sucre breaks down, saying it’s been a week and he doesn’t know where she is. They’ve fallen back in to their old Fox River friendship, which is really nice, and Michael says with that old Fox River brand of Steely Resolve that they’ll find her. He stares at the Suits, whose waitress is probably really annoyed by now if they’ve just been sitting there all day taking up space. They better tip well.

T-Bag’s in his room tossing cards in to his Panama Jack hat when Bellick pulls the hotel fire alarm. T-Bag pockets his scrawled address and a handgun before he evacuates like a responsible citizen. He’s also still got the duffle bag o’ cash. Michael, Bellick and Sucre meet up out front. T-Bag makes eye contact with the Suits, who follow him down the sidewalk. “Here we go,” says Michael. The three of them set off down the sidewalk a few steps behind the Feds. Watching the Lowest Speed Chase Ever from a doorway? Mahone. He steps out to join the caravan, and I have to tell you, he’s got this loose cannon thing going, in a black T-shirt and black jacket, and it’s kind of hot. He keeps his eyes on Bellick’s bald spot and reaches for his gun.

At that moment, THWACK! Someone knocks him in the face, and when it turns out to be Linc I say “Whoa!” out loud. He smacks Mahone in to the nearest abandoned warehouse and proceeds to beat the everliving snot out of him. Linc should really have more opportunities to beat the everliving snot out of people, because he’s quite good at it. Mahone’s no amateur either, though, and during a kick to the face he grabs Linc’s foot and twists it. They pull apart, sort of circling each other, and Mahone says Linc’s not going to like how this ends. He’s giving him a chance now, just walk away. “Son of a bitch, you killed my dad” Linc growls, and oh right, he totally did! Linc Smash!

After a brief struggle, Mahone gets the upper hand, somehow, even though Linc probably outweighs him by like a hundred pounds. Anyway, he’s got Linc in a choke hold, grunting like you’d expect someone to grunt when they’re trying to strangle someone twice their size, but Linc suddenly remembers that he watched Mahone get a bullet to the shoulder like 2 weeks ago, so he reaches up and squeezes the wound nice and hard. Finally Mahone lets go and Linc is able to grab the gun. Mahone honestly comes thisclose to actually rolling his eyes, because really, why can’t these guys just freaking die already? William Fichtner, it must be said, deserves like seventeen Emmys for this role. Surely all those Will and Grace and Everybody Loves Raymond people wouldn’t mind donating a few. At least the ones from the last 2-3 seasons. Anyway, Linc holds the gun on him and tells him to toss him the handcuffs or he’ll blow his head clean off.

The Low-Speed Chase down the sidewalks of Panama City continues. T-Bag finds his address and disappears into the aforementioned Red Door. The Suits wait outside for him, and Bellick approaches them playing the lost American tourist, asking for directions. It’s actually really funny. The Cute One gives him a few short responses before he finally has enough and says “Why don’t you just keep on walkin, pal?” All menacing-like. Kellerman would have done it better, I grumble to myself. Bellick acts all offended that he can’t ask for help from some fellow Americans, but he’s got them distracted enough for Sucre to come up from behind and very deliberately cock the handgun he’s got pointed at them. Michael’s right behind him: “How’re we doing, gentlemen?” The Other One looks hilariously dumbfounded by this turn of events as Bellick disarms The Cute One. “Come on, Sucre, the gun!” Bellick prompts. Sucre looks like he might be okay with the firearms distribution as it is, thanks very much, but reluctantly hands it over to Bellick. Michael herds everyone in to the alley.

Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m absolutely panicking here. Kellerman is in front of the mirror, in full uniform including beret, looking incredibly smokin’ hot and also very very sad. He’s in his Army uniform, y’all! I mean, come on! He’s trying to address an envelope to his sister Kristine, but he can barely write. He keeps hesitating, hemming and hawing, fidgeting. Finally he props Kristine’s note up against his medals and stands in front of the mirror, steeling himself, blinking back tears. It’s agonizing – he stands there staring at his reflection for a really long time. We get one last smirk as he raises the gun to his temple, eyes wide open.

Cut to Kristine at work, giving a lecture equally as annoying as the one she was giving when we first met her. A woman interrupts: “Kristine, it’s your brother Paul.” Kristine asks what’s going on, but the woman just points her toward the phone.

Aaand we’re back in Panama, because they’re trying to kill me, these Prison Break people. Michael confiscates the Suits’ passports and declares that they’re not Feds – if they were they’d be after T-Bag. “You guys Company?” he asks, but they just stare at him. Sucre duct-tapes them to a water pipe. Michael’s all “So. What are you guys doing here?” They continue to just glare at him. The Other One’s getting a little smirky for my taste. Michael concurs: “I don’t like this. Something’s up.” Once they’re good and restrained, Bellick and Sucre just want to get the hell out of there. They run through the Red Door after T-Bag. Michael and the Suits glare at each other a little longer before he follows.

“We know you’re in here, Bagwell!” Bellick hollers, with the subtlety we’ve come to expect from him. They’re inching down a hallway. “Three to one,” Michael shouts. “Do the math!” Obviously Michael hasn’t seen T-Bag’s flashback, or he’d know that T-Bag forte was probably the verbal section of the SAT. “Okay, okay! I don’t want any trouble!” a voice says from behind a door. Bellick kicks it in and there’s Panama Jackass, holding his gun up to the ceiling and looking kind of confused.

Bellick says to slide the gun over, and T-Bag only protests a little before he obeys. Michael’s eyes are squinched up like he’s doing a physics problem. He doesn’t like how this is adding up. T-Bag is all sweaty and nervous. Bellick asks for the money, but they immediately hear sirens. “Who called the cops?” Sucre panics. T-Bag says nothing. “You have three seconds, hillbilly,” says Bellick, and T-Bag quickly points and says “In there!” Bellick tells T-Bag to get it, but he says “you want it, you get it.” Sucre says they don’t have time for this, but T-Bag is just staring at them evenly. Bellick orders Sucre to open the door, which reveals yet another dead hooker, the one we saw him running off with last time. Which not only makes that scene from last week about eleventy billion times more disturbing, but it also freaks Sucre out enough to call for Michael, and distracts Bellick enough for T-Bag to slip through a big metal door. The rest of them all find themselves alone in a room with a dead hooker and the cops pulling up outside. This is a sensation familiar to T-Bag, but these guys are kind of thrown for a loop. Bellick tries to open the door but the knob comes off in his hand. “It’s a trap!”

Big scary military type guys are storming the Red Door as T-Bag and his cash run down the fire escape. Bellick and Michael get the door open in time to catch T-Bag nearing the bottom of the stairs. “Freeze, Bagwell!” Bellick yells. T-Bag turns around and plugs Bellick right in the thigh. Ouch. But ha. Michael grabs the gun from Bellick and runs down the stairs with Sucre. “Get the money!” Bellick hollers as he bleeds out. “You want the girl? Get the money!” Well, he’s tenacious, you gotta give him that. Michael closes in on T-Bag as he’s crossing the street, and because this is Prison Break, FWOP! A car smacks right in to him and he’s thrown into the windshield. One day I’ll go back and count the number of times people have been hit by cars in two seasons. It’s at least seven or eight. The driver speeds away, and somehow T-Bag is able to stand up. He should be dead about twelve times over by now, so at this point I’ve just accepted that he’s from Krypton or something. Michael again demands the money, and T-Bag again offers to work something out. At the top of the fire escape, Sucre watches the military/cop guys descend on Bellick, who is being arrested for a murder T-Bag committed. For the second time in like 3 weeks. And dammit, he’s doing that thing where he’s all scared and I almost feel sorry for him. Remember Marilyn! Never forget Marilyn! Oh, and also Maricruz, I guess, although I still don’t know if I think he’s bluffing, and besides, I just liked Marilyn better.

T-Bag, Sucre and Michael duck in to an alley. Michael tells Sucre to find them a car. T-Bag’s all, hey, let’s just divvy up right here fellas! “Looks like you’ve made some friends lately,” Michael says. T-Bag, with the most hilarious “who, me” type delivery, says “I don’t follow.” Ha. The setup was out of his league, Michael says. Too professional. “Let’s say that’s the case,” T-Bag offers. “What’s it worth for you to find out? Cause I am in possession of some information you might need, Pretty.” Okay, Michael says. “Tell me what you know and maybe I’ll let you walk. Without the money. Who’s pulling your strings?” T-Bag hesitates but finally says, “Ah have a hunch you’re speakin’ with a forked tongue, Pretty!” Once they’re somewhere public, and once Michael gets a car for T-Bag to take off in, he’ll tell him everything. Deal? Michael, simply: “No.” Heh. Meanwhile, Sucre hunts through a parking lot until he finds a car with an open door. He hotwires it and grins, all proud of himself. We’re proud of you too, Papi!

Kellerman is sort of splayed in his chair, his gun hand just kind of hanging limply at his side. He looks dead but there’s no blood. Kristine enters. “Oh, God. Paul.” He looks up at her and sniffles. Whew! I’ve never been so happy to see someone weep. “That’s only the second time a weapon has ever jammed on me.” He tells her, sort of amused. The first time was during training for “Gulf I,” and his commanding officer told him “Son, a weapon jams on the battlefield, might as well call that suicide.” He grins, with the sense of humor I suspect comes only from screwing everything up beyond repair and deciding to kill yourself, then end up screwing that up as well.

He’s lost and sad and embarrassed, pathetic even, just sitting there all dressed up with nowhere to go. She takes the gun and puts it on the dresser. “Kristine, I’ve…done things…” He can’t finish. He tries valiantly not to break down, clearing his throat in that manly way that manly men do when they’re trying not to sob. “I love you, Paul,” she interrupts. “Whatever it is that got you here. There’s a way out.” He takes off his beret and stammers: “My entire adult life I’ve followed orders, and I did terrible things because I thought they were right. And it turns out I did those things in service of nothing. So that’s what I’m left with. Nothing.” Nice. I mean, you can see the genuine affection he has for the military and his country, and I totally buy that someone like him, especially with his Crazy Parents backstory, can get caught up in all the patriotism/good soldier/”greater good” stuff and just keep following orders until you realize you’re kind of a monster. His face is all wet and teary. “You have me” she says, and he smiles. She says he has a clean slate, anything, everything is available to him right now. “The things I’ve done, Kristine…” “Undo them.” she says. “There’s always a way. Maybe that gun jammed for a reason.” She hugs him and he just melts into her shoulder, dissolving in to huge, wracking sobs. It’s heartbreaking. Paul Adelstein for President of the United States of the Universe! I am weeping actual tears into my Ramen for a fictional assassin/torturer’s existential despair. Well done, sir.

T-bag’s still trying to get to Michael. “Don’t let your pride-ah get in the way now, pretty!” Imagine this line delivered by the unholy spawn of Blanche Devereaux and Jim Jones and you’ll get the idea. Michael tells him to save it. “Lockin’ me up ain’t gonna hepp your sitchachun none – I got infamation!” Sucre drives up and Michael tells him the plan: Take T-Bag to the Embassy, presumably because it’s legally American soil so extradition treaties or lack thereof won’t matter? Anyway, they make sure he’s deported, then find Bellick. T-bag, angrily: “I’m telling you, you are being a penny wise and a pound foolish!” Sucre shoves him in the backseat and he’s still muttering “pound foolish, pound foolish,” as they drive off.

Cut to the courthouse where Sara’s lawyer has a plea deal from the DA: Twelve years. Really? That’s the deal? Damn! She doesn’t want it, she says; the jury heard Michael’s tape. Yeah, says the Worst Lawyer Ever, they heard a convicted felon lie for someone he obviously cares about. “We need to take a look at what they’re offering.”"We’re not going to prison,” Sara reminds him. “I am.” He explains that they need someone to hang for this and right now? She’s all they’ve got. She pauses to ponder the irony – this huge clusterfuck, a government conspiracy, assassinations, patsies, numerous murders, including her own father’s, and she’s the only one left to answer for it. Hilarious! Poor Sara. I want to hug her. She knows what they’re capable of, though, and she’s determined to do the right thing. “Twelve years?” She repeats.

In the Panamanian Beatdown Warehouse, Linc’s trying to get Michael on the phone. Mahone says he better hope Michael makes it back to that boat. “And if he doesn’t?” asks Linc, but gets no answer. “You should see yourself, hanging in there by a thread.” Oh, Linc, he’s been hanging by that same thread all season and he’s still managed to take care of his bidness. Ask Tweener. Oh wait, you can’t. Mahone: “I just want this over with.” Linc opines that if that’s the case, he shouldn’t have come down here. Mahone smiles a little. “Mmm,” he says, like yeah, now that you mention it, touché! Linc: “It’s gonna end bad for you, man.” One of the things Linc’s good at is looking in to a man’s eyes and knowing when he’s beat. Coincidentally, one of the things Mahone’s good at is looking defeated in order to lull people in to a false sense of security. I’m just saying.

Michael’s driving to the Embassy, T-Bag and Sucre in the backseat. Sucre frets about how they’re going to drop T-Bag off without getting themselves caught in the process, and also, what about Bellick? Michael tries to calm him down, saying they’ll find a way to get to him. Then he says “Now put your seat belt on or I will turn this hotwired Ford LTD around right now and you’ll both go back to the dead hooker closet without supper!” No, he doesn’t. T-Bag laughs, saying they’ll never get within a mile of Bellick. Sucre is so busy freaking out about Maricruz that T-Bag is able to grab a screwdriver from the floor and stab him in the chest with it a handful of times. Papi, noooo! T-Bag doesn’t get angry. He gets stabby. He goes for Michael next but they veer off the road and down an embankment.

Michael pulls Sucre out of the car and asks a passing Good Samaritan to call an ambulance, on account of Sucre is bleeding profusely. T-Bag grabs the money and runs off into the woods. Michael hesitates, but Sucre tells him to follow, babbling about Maricruz. The Good Samaritan takes over applying pressure to the Phillips-head shaped holes in Sucre’s upper torso, and Michael takes off after T-Bag.

T-Bag has a head start, running through a patch of jungle and breaking in to an empty house on the other side. Michael has the advantage of not having been hit by a car today so he catches up pretty quickly. T-Bag grabs a knife from the counter as Michael enters. “What exactly is it that you want, Pretty?” T-Bag yells, annoyed. Michael: “I’m turning you in.” He can walk or be dragged, it’s up to him. T-Bag says no, see, when Michael had that gun on him he afforded him a little respect. Thanks to this knife, the scales are tipped back his way. Either they split the money and Michael can “go get your legs tattooed or whatever,” which, ha, or they’re gonna find his body slumped over that chair with his pants around his ankles, “cause it’s been a long time comin’, Pretty!” Shudder! Yikes! Fox River T-Bag returns.

Michael walks casually over to the counter, grabs a bottle, and breaks it in to a weapon like you do when you’re about to have, say, a rumble at a roadhouse. “I guess I got my answer!” T-Bag says. Michael, smirkily: “Whenever you’re done yakkin’.” T-Bag’s retort? “Bring it, bitch!” Ha! They struggle a bit but Michael ends up on the floor with the knife to T-Bag’s neck. T-Bag laughs, saying Michael doesn’t have it in him to kill. We see Michael raise the knife and thrust it downward, as T-Bag howls in agony.

In the courtroom, the bailiff uncuffs Sara, and she tells him “thank you,” which is just so freaking cute it breaks my heart. Her lawyer explains how the plea goes down: she has to allocute to the charges. The judge will ask if she left the door open on purpose and she has to say yes. He’ll ask if she gave support and comfort since the escape, and she’ll say yes. Then she’ll be sentenced. The prosecution is asking she do her time in a maximum security prison, and damn, being a noble scapegoat for an entire conspiracy really sucks. Her eyes go all wide, because she knows from maximum security prisons. She’s terrified. He says with good behavior she’ll be out in 9 years, to which I call bullshit so very much, because child molesters get a better parole deal than that. She does a little math and says “I’ll be out before I’m 40,” and it’s heartbreaking. “I’m sorry, Sara” says her lawyer, but she purses her lips and shakes her head. She knows what she has to do.

Suddenly the other half of her legal team runs up, “Sara, you ready for this?” Oh crap, what now? Did someone steal her gigantic purse? Cause that’s pretty much the only thing she has left in the world. But no! “A very credible witness has just come forward, and he’s willing to testify on your behalf, corroborate everything you’ve said about this conspiracy.” Wait a second. Aw hell no! No, that would just be too awesome. It can’t possibly be.

Damn hell yeah it is! The bailiff opens the courtroom door and in strides Kellerman, besuited and stoic, and I had no idea I’d ever love this show enough to be this excited about a deus ex machina surprise witness plot device. I mean, holy crap. He smiles a little at Sara, who’s just staring at him, wide-eyed, mouth agape. She doesn’t know about his little existential crisis so she’s completely floored and probably a little scared of him. So yeah. In retrospect it seems obvious but I really didn’t see it coming. Also, it’s the awesomest thing ever.

The Panamanian army/police guys (is Panama one of those places where they’re kind of the same thing?) are making their way through the jungle after Michael and T-Bag when they hear T-Bag howling in pain. They enter the house to find him pinned to the floor, via a knife through the wrist just above his good hand. He’s bleeding and blubbering and wailing and Michael is gone.

Because he’s on the beach, with the money bag, smiling. He heads to the boat but Linc’s not there. He calls an operator to see if they can check hospitals for Sucre, but Linc beeps in. “I’m sorry, Michael,” he says, and hands the phone to Mahone. Wait, what? “Hello, Michael,” Mahone says genially. Michael: “If you touch my brother, you’re a dead man.” “Oh please,” Mahone scoffs. “We don’t have to worry about that. He’s like you; he’s got a heart that won’t kill a man.” We flash back to when Linc had Mahone at gunpoint, demanding he turn over his handcuffs. But Mahone does a cool spin kick to Linc’s gut, allowing him to get the gun and cuff Linc. Ha! Cuff Linc! How is it possible I haven’t made that joke before? Anyway, Michael asks Mahone what he wants. First things first, Mahone says; when they captured T-Bag today he was minus one giant bag of cash. “I can only assume you have the money aboard the Christina Rose right now.” Dammit. Michael cannot believe this smartass figured all this out, again. “It’s an amazing plan, Michael. Grab the money and the boat and disappear.” But Michael’s not the only one who needs to disappear. Mahone wants the cash and the boat. Michael says he’s out of his mind. Not really, Mahone reasons. They both have something the other needs. “It all comes down to this. Five minutes, that’s what you have.” Click.

Season finale next time! I keep thinking, “How can they possibly do this for another season?” But I thought that last year, and this season has been incredibly solid and rarely disappointing. And also real fun. So bring it, bitches!