Panama Jacked

This week on Prison Break: Season Finale! Linc is exonerated! Bellick finds himself on the receiving end of some seriously nasty acts of violence! Kellerman saves Sara! Then Michael, Sara, Linc, LJ and Kellerman all sail off into the tropical sunset on a boatful of booze with Westmoreland’s cash and all live happily ever after. Oh, and Michael and Sara totally get their own room.

Okay, so only some of that is actually true. The stuff that actually did happen was alternately awesome, heartbreaking, weird, confusing, and awesome again. Which is exactly what we’ve come to expect from Prison Break. They left us a lot to chew on, so let’s get to it, shall we?I wanted this to be a reasonable length, I really did, but it’s a season finale, and a really crazy one at that. I’ll try to leave most of the speculation for the boards and the comments section, but it’s really, really hard, because holy crap.

2.22 “Sona.” We pick up right where we left off, with Mahone telling Michael he wants the boat and the money. Michael thinks. The thinking includes some flashbacks to remind us of all the crap Michael’s taken on Linc’s behalf, and it’s probably just this one scene, and the grey sweatsuit, but I don’t remember Season 1 Linc looking quite so much like the love child of Steve Carell and Hanz and/or Franz. As Michael and his flashbacks pace around the deck of the Christina Rose, a kid walks up with a crate full of goodies. Spliff? Magic mushrooms? Whatever Michael wants, he can get it. “Magic mystery tour, right in this box!” Michael shoos the kid away.

As promised, Mahone calls back after five minutes. “So. You gonna do the right thing?” “And you’ll just let my brother go? Like you let Tweener go? And Abruzzi? And Haywire?” Mahone says things are different now, and hey, they both know what the other is capable of! No games, just a couple of guys doing each other a favor. Michael finally agrees, but it’s going to take him at least 24 hours to get to the dock where Mahone is holding Linc. The old Mahone would have called bullshit on that right there, but this Mahone is delirious and desperate. He even does an actual “Yes! Booyah!” type gesture. Linc fails to ask how the hell he’s supposed to pee chained up to this pipe for 24 hours. Mahone dials his phone and leaves a chipper voicemail: “Mr. Kim? This is Alex Mahone. Call me.”

We’re back in the courtroom now as Kellerman takes the stand. “What I’m about to divulge to you will in all likelihood get me killed,” he begins, but as usual, he just seems kind of idly amused by the whole thing. He’s just, he’s so awesome. I can’t even tell you how perfectly Paul Adelstein just sits up there, breaking the whole elaborate conspiracy down bit by bit in that delightfully matter-of-fact, smug, smirky delivery we all know and love. It was supposed to be about country, and loyalty, he says, about what’s right. Sara rolls her eyes. “But it wasn’t,” he says, “because I wronged people who shouldn’t have been wronged.” On the orders of then-VP Sweet Caroline Reynolds, he planted evidence, procured a body, lured Linc in to the parking garage. “From the ground up, we framed him,” he says simply.

The Feisty Black Female Prosecutor’s like, oh right, this shadowy cabal, big conspiracy, blah blah, what does this have to do with Sara jumping bail and aiding fugitives? Kellerman is quick to interrupt: “She did so because she feared for her life, which was appropriate, as I had orders to kill her.” There is murmuring and gavel pounding as everyone tries to figure out what the hell they’re supposed to do with this information.

Meanwhile, Michael continues to pace. He spots the kid from before. “Hey! You still in the magic business?” “¡Siempre!” he grins, and introduces himself as Chaco. Chaco’s pretty damn charming. Can we keep him? They’re going to need a cabin boy!

Back in the courtroom the judge has been over whatever evidence Kellerman has managed to scare up. He concludes that yup, holy crap, he’s totally legit, and wonders if the DA is still interested in spending any more time on Dr. Sara. Feisty Black Female Prosecutor is not. She’s dropping all the charges. But she does have a few bones to pick with this Kellerman fellow. He’s arrested right in the courtroom, all smirky and smug and awesome. In possibly her best line of the entire season, Sara turns around as he’s being cuffed and just stammers, “I…I literally don’t even know what to say to you.” Ha. No kidding. Sarah Wayne Callies deserves about six Emmys just for that one line. “It was good knowing you, Sara,” he says as they lead him away, with way more sincerity than I thought possible. She watches, completely bewildered, as he’s taken into custody.

Secret Asian Man returns Mahone’s call. When Mahone has the brothers where they need to be he wants to come down there for visual confirmation. Fine, Mahone says, but in that case he better get on a plane toute suite. Meanwhile, Michael takes the Christina Rose out to sea. He has a very touching conversation with Sara’s voicemail, saying he doesn’t think she’ll ever get this, but he wanted her to know he made it. “But it’s no good without you.” And just in case she does somehow get the message, and if she does for some reason want to be with him, he needs her to listen close.

We cut to Sara, still sitting in shock at the defense table in the courtroom. Her dad’s friend Bruce, the one who totally didn’t order that hit on her, which is nice, tells her they better get out quick on account of it’s going to be a media circus out there. Yeah, I mean, it’s a media circus every time Britney Spears forgets to wear panties, so I’d expect this clusterfuck to get some coverage.

The media circus is in full swing as a reporter sums it up for us, and adds that in light of this jaw-droppingly insane new development, Linc’s been exonerated. Sara kind of does a double take. Her brain hasn’t gotten past “Holy crap, did Paul Kellerman just save my ass?” so the news that Linc’s a free man kind of smacks her in the face. You know, like Kellerman did, back when he was trying to kill her. Good times.

Credits? This is what happened before the freaking credits, people.

Hey, Sara’s got a voicemail! She listens for awhile before she realizes Michael has no idea what’s just happened, and since the Christina Rose probably doesn’t have Fox News he’s not likely to find out any time soon. She calls him but of course he’s mere yards away and doesn’t hear it. That’ll teach you to keep your satellite phone on vibrate, Michael. Sara realizes she has to find him before he gets himself killed.

In his totally conspicuous secret black stretch limo, Baldy listens to Kim prattling about how the stars are finally aligning. Mahone’s got Burrows, and Scofield’s on his way. Baldy tears off a sheet of paper from his Mysterious Scratch Pad Of Nefarious Conspiracy and shows it to Kim. It says, simply, “SONA?” Ooh. Kim says he’s going down there himself and he’ll make it happen. Baldy’s next note reads “Just ONE is needed.” Kim: “I assume we both know which one that is.” Baldy’s mouth says nothing, but his face says, “Bitch please! Stop wasting my time and go do my bidding, you insufferable little sycophant!” Baldy has learned to speak long sentences with his eyes. He doesn’t like to waste paper.

Mahone, on the phone with Pam, is positively giddy. He’s all, so hey, remember how you said maybe we’d get back together? In the background, Linc shakes his head disapprovingly and goes “Tsk, tsk.” Heh. Mahone gives him what is known in my family as the Hairy Eyeballâ„¢ and continues. Remember how she always wanted to go to Colombia? She’s like, yeah, remember how you never did? Well, he does now. He finally gets her to say that yeah, okay, she and Cam might be able to meet him out there for a couple of weeks, and he’s all “Woohoo!” She reminds him that he has to be prepared for the possibility that it won’t work out. He says he knows what’s important now. He’s stepped away from his snickering audience of one for some privacy, which allows Linc to notice that he might be able to unscrew the pipe he’s chained to and free himself.

At a Panama City hospital, Sucre is propped up over the sink, looking like, well, I guess looking like someone who got jabbed in the chest with a screwdriver a few times. He’s shivery and pasty and he’s having flashbacks/hallucinations of Maricruz, who is either holed up somewhere starting to get thirsty, or, more likely, Bellick is full of crap and she’s sitting in bed annoyed with Sucre for taking 2 weeks to get her cherries from the grocery store. A doctor walks in and wonders what the hell he’s even doing standing up. She tries to explain that he’s lost three pints of blood and leaving the hospital is unwise at the very least. Sucre ignores her completely and staggers down the hallway. He makes his way to a payphone where he calls the Embassy, asking for Bellick. His chest wounds have started bleeding again, which, I’m no doctor, but that’s probably not good.

Speaking of Bellick, he’s in a holding cell being his usual asshat self, screaming about being an American and his right to a lawyer. This is one of those moments where I almost feel sorry for him, just because he’s such a complete fuckup, but the feeling passes when I remember he has absolutely no redeeming qualities at all. “Freakin’ banana benders.” He mutters. Ha. I don’t even know what that means. He’s not looking so great himself, having recently been shot in the leg by T-Bag. And speak of the devil! The cops drag T-Bag down the hall and Bellick loudly says it’s about damn time they caught the right guy! They dump T-Bag in the holding cell, and completely fail to release Bellick before they shut the door in his face. Bellick is furious. He’s actually panting as he turns to T-Bag and says “You’re busted.” “Am I?” he responds, cool as a handless homicidal cucumber. Bellick’s asks about the money. “Pretty boy’s got it. He’s out there with a royal flush, and you’re in here with a busted straight. Hardly seems right, does it?” This episode has very little T-Bag in it but damned if Robert Knepper doesn’t bring his A-game to every word. Bellick: “Your hand doesn’t look much better.” Heh. Get it? Hand? Anyway, T-Bag says maybe he’s got an ace up his sleeve, and enough with the poker metaphors already! “You know something I don’t?” T-Bag just dismisses him, “You better rest your leg, Boss,” and strolls away. It would be more effective if he had more than a few yards to stroll away to, but still.

Chaco’s on a big fancy Miami Vice type yacht with DeJesus the Drug Dealer and his scantily clad, caramel colored harem. Chaco says he’s got a guy with a ton of money. He waves Michael onboard but DeJesus kind of freaks out. He smacks Chaco for bringing Michael, because for some reason he’s decided Michael’s a cop. Hey, hands off my new pal Chaco, there, punk. Harsh words are spoken and guns are drawn but Michael stays calm. Conveniently, a member of his entourage has a laptop, so Michael tells them to go ahead and look him up. Michael Scofield. “That means nothing to me,” says DeJesus. “It could mean a hundred grand,” says old-school “I’m an awesome criminal when I need to be and also remain cool with a gun to my head” Michael.

The guy with the laptop does as he’s told, and turns the screen around to shows everyone Michael’s totally smokin’ hot WANTED poster. DeJesus: “You just gave me a hundred thousand reasons to turn you in.” Michael, producing a wad of cash: “I guess I’ll have to give you a few more not to.”

“You know I’m innocent.” Linc is telling Mahone. “Yeah, probably.” Ha. He doesn’t care about anything other than getting his life back. “Your wife know who you really are?” Linc wonders. It’s worth a shot, but the psychoanalysis angle didn’t work for Sara, Linc, and she’s a damn doctor. “Hey, you know how it is,” says Mahone. “Good man doing bad things because of circumstance.” Touché, Alex. Linc’s mostly trying to distract Mahone, get him worked up enough so that he doesn’t notice Linc slowly unscrewing the bolt holding the pipe together. He says there’s no way out for any of them. Mahone says “for me there is,” but he’s obviously trying to convince himself more than Linc.

“How much did you spend?” Bellick asks T-Bag. “A hundred thousand. Maybe two.” He then goes on about how down here that’s a fortune. He could be the sun king of Panama! Bellick: “You won’t be seeing much sun anytime soon.” T-Bag, all sing-song: “You never kno-ow!” Bellick makes a comment about “that Siamese cat smile of yours” and T-Bag laughs. “It’s Cheshire,” he corrects smugly. Just then some guards start yelling for Señor Bellick and let him out of the cell. They don’t turn him loose, though; they just cuff him again and drag him off. He’s whining that they have the wrong guy, but the guard just says “Buena suerte.” Bellick’s all, “Huh? What does that mean?” T-Bag answers for him, to himself: “Good luck,” he Cheshire grins.

Sucre staggers through the street and looks up to see Bellick being herded onto a transport vehicle. He runs after it, barely coherent, begging Bellick to tell him where Maricruz is. As annoying as I tend to find this whole plot, it’s pretty heartwrenching. He even gets hit by a car, but only a little bit. Bellick, because see above re: no redeeming qualities, tells him if he wants to find her he better get him out of this. The truck speeds away. Sucre is devastated and finally collapses. Visions of Maricruz dance in his head, and we get an overhead shot of him just splayed out in the middle of the road. Bellick, you son of a bitch. I’m going to remember this just in case for example there’s a time later in this episode where I’m tempted to feel really sorry for you. You know, hypothetically.

The next day, Michael docks outside the warehouse where Mahone’s holding Linc, who I hope got some off-camera potty breaks. Michael stashes the money in some bushes and runs inside. “That’s a beautiful boat, Michael!” Mahone gushes, gun drawn. He pats Michael down, which I kind of suspect he’s secretly wanted to do all season. I certainly have. “Is this the part where you go back on your word?” Michael wonders. Mahone’s all, heavens no! Actually, he says, they want you alive. Innnterrresting. “Why?” Michael wants to know, but Mahone couldn’t give a half a rat’s ass and just asks where the money is. “Come on, Alex, you have the boat, show a little good faith.” Before Mahone can finish his smartass retort Kim calls. Mahone tells him where they are and Kim says he’ll be right there. He hangs up and immediately dials again. “Here we go!” he says, raising his eyebrows at the boys. It’s the police he’s calling, and he half-assedly feigns alarm as he tells the operator that “a well-dressed Asian man has just been shot by two Americans!” Which, firstly, Mahone, you little bitch. But also, ha! That’s not only a smart doublecross, it’s also possibly the funniest line Mahone’s had all season. Michael says, kill him, sure, he’s a worm, but why frame them? “So everybody. Will leave me. Alone.” He says deliberately, and again demands the money “It’s not gonna happen, Alex. Let him go.” Mahone loses it for a second, making a scary monster face and screaming “Give me the money!” right into his face.

“I am dumbfounded.” Kim announces from the doorway. Mahone’s like, what, they’re all yours! This isn’t what they planned, and Kim wonders if something else going on. Mahone quickly turns the gun on him. “Like that.” Kim says. “Like a doublecross.” Yeah, just like that, says Mahone, but before he can finish being all menacing Kim’s goons start pouring inside. “Great minds think alike, eh Alex?” Linc chooses this moment to break free from the pipe, and the loud clattering it produces prompts everyone to open fire. Mahone kills a couple of goons, one of them via that cool ninja “grab them by the head and twist” method they must teach you in the FBI, but all the people everyone wanted dead make it out alive. Linc even snags a gun! He follows Michael outside where they grab the sack o’ cash and take off. We hear the sirens approaching, but Mahone manages to make his getaway via the Christina Rose.

Okay. This scene. Holy crap. First of all, the sight of Prison Orange Kellerman is at once startling, heartbreaking, and, obviously, smokin’ hot. He’s being transported, and the officer is telling him how it’s going to go down. He smugly interrupts that yeah, he knows the drill. The transport van takes off, and the smirk never leaves his face. “Why didn’t you take the freeway?” the guard in the back asks the driver, and he pulls something out of his ass about traffic but the guard and I are both a little suspicious. Kellerman continues to be smugly amused throughout this conversation. Conveniently, the engine light comes on and the driver thinks they better check it out. You know, check it out, under a deserted overpass in the middle of nowhere. The driver gets out and Kellerman says to the guard, “In the French Resistance it was considered a high honor to face a firing squad.” The guard tells him to shut up, but please, as if anyone’s ever persuaded this man to shut up, ever. “The highest honor was to smile when they shot you,” he continues. The back door swings open and Kellerman casually looks over his shoulder at two ski-masked gunmen. “Took you long enough?” he smirks dryly, and we pan out to a wide shot of the van, where we just see them spray the inside with bullets. Not fucking even.

Okay, so here’s what’s so beautiful about this scene: it’s perfectly written, perfectly performed, and perfectly ambiguous. It makes complete sense that Kellerman knew exactly how and when they’d come after him, seeing as how he could pull this stunt in his sleep. He’s made his peace and righted some wrongs and he leaves the world on his terms, smiling. But it also makes complete sense that his amusement was more of the “wow, this guy is really dense” variety. The driver was very obviously fishy, but it could go either way – he could be working with the bad guys and Kellerman sees right through it, or he could be working with Kellerman and Kellerman just thinks it’s funny that the guard falls for the engine light thing so easily. Even his speech about the French Resistance could easily have been sort of smugly directed at the guard, preparing him for the firing squad. And we’ve seen a whole lot of evil government assassins spraying people with gunfire, but when have they ever worn masks? It’s just absolutely perfect. If they can’t get Paul Adelstein back next season, it’s a totally fitting end to the character. But if they can? There is plenty to work with. It works perfectly well from either perspective, so A+ to whoever wrote this scene, and A+ to Paul Adelstein. You were truly, in the words of General Patton (fictionalized George C. Scott version), a Magnificent Bastard. A standing ovation and a trunkful of Emmys for you, sir.

Sigh.

At a dock somewhere, some guy is helping Mahone chart a course to Colombia. He’s totally pleased with himself and his awesome brilliant plan which went down flawlessly. Oh, except for the part where the Coast Guard has been tipped off that the Christina Rose is involved in some drug trafficking. There are officers poking around the boat and one of them’s all “Bingo!” He shows his superior officer, and a blindsided Mahone, two neat bundles of cocaine. Mahone: “I…guh…” Ha! Awesome. Michael, you clever little imp you! Mahone is cuffed and hauled off.

Linc and Michael plod through the jungle, and Michael notes that Mahone’s probably in custody by now. Linc’s just glad they ended up with the money. And hey, look, it’s Chaco! “This way,” he says, and the brothers hesitate a moment. “So we get out of here, never look back?” Linc says, not knowing he could just stroll in to any police station in America and probably just get asked for autographs. Michael is sad. “Never look back.” He confirms. Linc: “I want to thank you, Michael. For everything.” Michael, simply: “You’re welcome.” They follow Chaco to a small pier where a decidedly less comfy-looking boat is docked. “It’s the best I could do,” Chaco says, and hey, you and your narcotics totally saved the day, kiddo, so no worries. Michael thanks him and hands him a wad of cash. “She’s very pretty,” Chaco says as he leaves. Michael’s like, yeah well, it’ll get us the hell out of here, but that’s totally not what Chaco was talking about. He was talking about Sara, who takes this dramatically convenient moment to step out on to the deck, shaking out a towel like she’s been cleaning, which is adorable.

She looks up and smiles, and awww. Michael just melts. He really didn’t think she’d show up to this particular rendez-vous. He didn’t even write it in code on origami swans! He reaches out to touch her like he’s not sure if she’s real. “So I got your message,” she grins. Michael holds her really tight for a good long while, and you can totally see Sarah Wayne Callies’ tiny little baby bump under her poufy white shirt.

“Thank God I found you guys.” She says. “Michael, Lincoln’s free.” Because of Kellerman no less! Linc: “Whoa.” When he recovers from the initial shock he asks, “What about Michael?” Sara says Bruce is looking in to it but he’s pretty sure Michael’s in the clear as well. She sort of touches Michael’s stomach just a little, and the advantage of having their relationship remain so damn chaste is that little gestures like that one are really effective. Everybody just stands around digesting this for a minute, because holy crap. Linc needs a drink, and Sara offers to fetch something for him. Linc follows her in to the cabin, placing his pilfered handgun on a table. I do not like the way the camera lingers on that gun. Not one bit.

He runs back on deck with a fishhook so Michael can remove the handcuffs still dangling from his left hand. “We did it, Linc.” Michael says. “No. You almost did it,” says freaking Kim, standing on the pier with his gun leveled at them. Dammit!

Linc says “You want the money? Take it!” and tosses it at him. Kim’s like “Pthhbtt! You think that’s what this is about?” He kicks the mere pocket change in to the water. “You might be done with us, but we’re not done with you. The police are on their way.” Linc says to let Michael go, and Kim is all faux touched by this display of filial loyalty. “Too bad only one of you will survive.” He points the gun directly at Linc and a shot rings out. After a second Linc realizes he’s totally not dead, and Kim realizes he’s totally got a big bloody hole in his nice suit.

Not so well dressed now, are we, Secret Asian Man? Kim falls into the water and we see Sara, still holding the gun, shaking and panting and generally freaking out. Nice shot, Dr. Sara! Hey, she’s already hotwired a car this season, so I buy it.

As promised, the cops show up. And I’m not really sure why the three of them feel like they have to run, but they do, up the pier and in to the jungle. Michael and Sara are separated from Linc, who loses the cops in a shipyard. Michael and Sara find one of those conveniently placed abandoned shacks like the one T-Bag found last week and duck inside. The cops are right behind them, ordering them to come out with their hands up. And I must be missing something, because why can’t they just say “That little twerp was about to shoot us so our friend saved our asses”? I mean, the news has to have reached Central America by now, right? All they’d have to do is look at a newspaper and they’d see right away that plenty of people want to kill all three of them. Regardless, Sara is stunned: “Michael, I took a man’s life!” Michael inexplicably fails to clarify that um, she took the life of a smug little killing machine who was about to shoot Linc, so maybe she shouldn’t beat herself up about it. Sara is a doctor, though, so I think it’s pretty true to her character that she’d be shaken up about killing anybody.

She’s sobbing now – in fact, she’s scared shitless, which is something we’ve never seen before, even though she’s had some pretty damn good reasons. Michael calms her down: They’re just going to walk outside and tell them exactly what happened. She’s still holding the gun and Michael takes it from her. He comforts her with a big hug and one of those nice furtive desperate kisses. She loves him, she says into his shoulder, and he’s got a sad determined thousand-yard stare as he says he loves her too. She composes herself and steps out with her arms in the air, but Michael comes up behind her and holds the gun to her head. “Nobody moves!” he yells, and Sara’s like, “…the hell?” He tells her under his breath that she sacrificed everything for him once, and it’s time for him to say thank you. “I did it!” he declares, throwing the gun to the ground and approaching the cops with his hands up. Sara is pleading hysterically that he’s innocent but they haul him off.

Some seriously shaky hands are dialing a payphone. It’s Mahone, broken and defeated to the point where he can barely stand. Pam answers and he asks her if she’s bought the tickets yet. No, she’s still looking. “Don’t.” he says shakily. “Forget about them. Forget I ever existed.” He hangs up and is dragged away.

Linc walks up to a police station and asks about Sara, but he just missed her. She gave her statement and was released. He runs out into the street, scanning the crowd for her, and finally sees her hurrying off a block or so away. A suspiciously well-dressed American seems to be watching her, and Linc watches him casually fall in behind her as she turns a corner. Linc calls for her but she doesn’t hear. By the time he gets to the corner, she’s gone. But! But! Crap!

Back at the holding cell, T-Bag sees yet another suit approaching the bars. He’s like, finally! Whew! When are they getting him out of there? The Suit is like, “yeah, about that…” T-Bag says he did everything he was supposed to do, so just cut him loose like they agreed. “Getting caught wasn’t part of the agreement,” the suit says. “I got caught runnin’ your setup.” T-Bag snarls, getting angrier with every word. “I got Scofield down here. I got what you wanted!” The Suit just shakes his head a little. “You got caught, Bagwell.” He turns around and strolls out, completely ignoring T-Bag’s loud, angry hissy fit.

Michael steps out of a transport vehicle in to an appropriately gloomy nighttime tropical downpour. Soaking wet, he looks over at the van behind his. Out staggers Mahone, and they just kind of glare at each other, because really, what is there to say at this point? A guard leads Michael to a door, over which is written “(part of the word for ‘penitentiary’) Federal de Sona.” Ooh, cool. Except totally not. The guard leaves Michael at the entrance, saying “this is as far as I go,” which cannot be good. Michael doesn’t like the sound of that either.

Suddenly we’re in Long Island, where Baldy is putting on a lab coat. “General!” says some other lab-coated guy. “I trust this is a safe place to speak?” General Baldy nods. “It’s Scofield. They got him.” They go through some Authorized Personnel Only doors into what is definitely a research facility of some kind.

Michael, meanwhile, goes through a door into a place that makes Fox River look like a Sandalsâ„¢ All-Inclusive Resort. He starts down a long narrow hall full of the scariest nastiest guys you can possibly imagine. It’s very effectively nightmarish in a hardcore Dante kind of way. He’s wearing his “don’t fuck with me” Fox River face but there’s definitely some “oh, crap” right under the surface. There are no guards to be seen, not even any cells. Just lots and lots of scary, scary dudes.

Lab Coat is finishing his speech as he and General Baldy approach another door guarded by uniformed military personnel of some kind. He didn’t think they’d ever see Scofield back in the pen. “You know he’s gonna break out. It’s in his blood.” Ooooh! What the hell does that mean? General Baldy turns around: “That’s exactly what we want him to do.” Dun!

Michael continues his stroll down the most horrifying hallway ever, full of graffiti and drugs and cons that make T-Bag look like Betty freaking White. Some of them are strung out, some of them are beaten to a pulp, including one Officer Brad Bellick, who is a barely recognizable, naked, shivering heap on the floor. He sees Michael but he’s either too fucked up or too scared to speak. Michael stares at him as a giant pittbull of a man hovers territorially nearby. We’re starting to hear crowd noise now. It sounds like the freaking Coliseum and I’m scared. The chanting and whistling and stomping gets louder and louder as he reaches the end of the hall and turns to face a doorway leading out into the rain and God knows what else.

And THAT, my friends, is where they leave us.

So. Things to consider and/or fret about: What the hell do they want with Michael all of a sudden? How long has this been about Michael? Does that “in his blood” comment mean that Aldo was an escape artist, maybe even escaped from Sona? What is General Baldy up to in that lab? Will Mahone and Michael have to team up to get themselves the hell out of this whole extra level of Hell Dante didn’t even know about? Will Linc be the one breaking Michael out this time? What the hell happened to Sara? Do I love Paul Adelstein enough to want that Grey’s Anatomy spinoff to succeed? Or do I love Paul Kellerman enough to want it to fail?

Discuss. We have a long summer ahead of us.