Original subtitles

- LINCOLN: I didn't kill that man, Michael. - The evidence says you did.

- I was set up. - Swear to me.

I swear to you, Michael.

[over bullhorn]: Put down your weapon!

JUDGE: I find it incumbent that

you see the inside of a prison cell,

Mr. Scofield.

I'm looking for someone... Guy named Lincoln Burrows.

Why you want to see Burrows so bad anyhow?

'Cause he's my brother.

- I'm getting you out of here. - That's impossible.

MICHAEL: Not if you designed the place, it isn't.

[C-Note laughs]

You one mixed-up cracker,

you know that?

Are we in business?

Now... it's all about timing.

T-BAG: Scofield. You just as pretty as advertised.

When do we get started?

- I need your help. - You're asking me to break the law.

I'm asking you to make a mistake.

Forget to lock up.

- [alarm wailing] - Come on.

LINCOLN: We did it, Mike.

MICHAEL: However this plays out...

I have no regrets.

LINCOLN [echoing]: Michael!

Well, if you're watching this, that means you're safe.

I wish I could be there with you,

but as you know now, I wouldn't have had much time.

I made my choice.

I don't regret it.

We're free now.

We're free.

_

Freedom has a price.

I died seven years ago.

Left behind a brother...

a wife...

a son.

But the dead talk...

if you listen.

They're there with you...

reaching out...

trying to tell you something.

Because not all deaths are the same.

Some are real.

Some are a story.

Question is...

do you believe the story?

Was the man who died

who you thought he was?

The dead talk...

if you listen.

_

Still tight as...

scales on a snake.

Must have friends in high places, Bagwell.

How a cesspool like you gets his walking papers I'll never know.

This cesspool has been a model citizen.

Model citizen.

[closes zipper]

$71.31.

Laptop.

Pack of gum, three pieces.

How about you keep that?

Whatever you bring in, you bring out.

And one last piece of correspondence.

Something really wrong with the world when I'm receiving

dozens of letters a week for guys like you.

Nothing compared to the e-mails.

What is it with you killers that put the satin

on women's panties anyhow?

[exhales]

♪ ♪

Lackaday!

_

[car engine roaring]

[tires squeal]

[car doors closing]

[panting]

[weapon cocking]

Burrows!

How about you step out and pay us

the hundred grand you owe us?

Take that as a no.

Lincoln Burrows...

says no.

Big tough guy...

who made it out of the neighborhood.

And look at you now... Back to your roots,

the way you've always been.

A small-time crook who can't pay his debts.

We're gonna find you, you know,

and we're gonna open you up.

[car door closes, engine starts]

[dog barking in distance]

T-BAG: Lincolny-linc.

All huffin' and puffin'.

Don't you look at me like I'm trash.

My house is in order. I'm clear with the government,

the D.O.C. and my God.

Doesn't appear to be the same with you.

Look at you, all backslid.

You're supposed to be going up in the world as you age,

or did you not get the memo?

You don't get off my deck, I'm gonna crack your skull.

I wouldn't do that.

Seems fate has deigned

to join us at the hip once again,

despite our mutual contempt.

Have a look-see.

[sighs]

Where'd you get this?

Received it on release earlier this week.

No return address.

If you're playing me, I'll kill you.

Take a look at that postmark on that.

T-BAG: I may be a sophisti-cat,

but not so sophisticated

as to forge something like that.

Besides...

what angle could I possibly have in coming here

and telling you that it looks like your brother

might just be alive?

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

- Sync & corrections by Vito Silans - - www.addic7ed.com resynced by Madridista12

It's impossible.

That's what I thought.

Why'd he send it to you?

Again, what I thought.

And then I gave the words another look-see.

Maybe that's the answer.

"By your hand

you shall know the glories of your Progeny

and our world will be

made right forevermore."

Hell if I know what that means.

But just like that envelope's addressed to me,

those words are addressed to me. Got to be!

Get out.

I'm trying to work with you here.

Is there any possible way your brother could've survived?

My brother's dead.

Th-Then who sent this? And why?

Get out.

Least let me take my rightful correspondence.

[scoffs]

Oh, I made a copy, Burrows.

I knew you'd be the same obstinate son of a beyotch

you always been, but I'd hoped you'd seen the light.

But you are what you is and you is what you are.

[scoffs]

Still, I'm telling you...

fate has got us joined at the hip somehow.

[door closes]

[takes deep breath]

[exhales]

♪ ♪

MAN: Where you in from?

LINCOLN: Chicago.

MAN: Love Chicago.

- There you go. - Thanks, man.

[engine roaring]

[exhales]

[laughs softly] I didn't think

I was ever gonna see you again.

You didn't come to the wedding.

I mean, I figured I... I get it...

He hates me for marrying someone other than his brother, but...

I haven't been in a good place, Sara.

My brain, it's... it's been a mess.

That's why I didn't show up.

And... I didn't want my nephew to see me like that.

[sighs quietly]

But now it's impossible to stay away.

SARA: Someone's got a sick sense of humor.

I know you want it to be true.

Losing a brother...

The massive hole that leaves in your life.

Like the same massive hole losing a husband is.

[sighs]

- Maybe. - [door opens, closes]

Lincoln Burrows?

Jacob.

I haven't seen you in what,

three, four years?

- Yeah. - MIKE: Uncle Lincoln!

Hey-hey! Buddy!

Oh...

so good to see you.

Did you bring me any sunken treasures?

Sunken treasures?

Oh. The dive shop.

- Panama. - Yeah, I've been telling him stories

about being down there before we came back to the States.

You've become kind of like

a mythological hero to him. Let me get some beers.

- I want to know what you been up to. Okay. - Sure, man. Yeah.

Come here.

I want you to go wash up, okay?

And then you can catch up with your uncle.

He hasn't just mythologized you.

He mythologizes Michael, too.

It's like someone thinking he was born to a god,

a god he's never met...

and who isn't here.

And who never will be again.

I can be pragmatic.

Michael was sick.

He was terminally sick,

and he died.

[sighs]

Sara...

how do you explain that?

[sighs]

It's Photoshop, Linc,

or something.

You got to consider the source.

This came from T-Bag.

I know you want it to be true.

I want it to be true.

[loud, indistinct music plays in next room]

How about a date tonight, model citizen?

[groans]

[sighs] A little well-earned love

after a long time at sea.

Jeh... boop.

Miss Dorothy.

E-mailing her undying love

from Aurora, Illinois.

I-eesh.

[sighs] How about this one?

"Love Cannon Alonzo in Champaign."

Ooh. Hop on that just on the name alone.

[computer chimes]

- _ - What the hell?

Prosthetic research?

[sighs]

[crow caws, birds sing]

Smart girl, your Sara.

She's right.

I'm just desperate to see your face.

My life's been a mess ever since you left.

Fallen back into my old ways.

Something you wouldn't tolerate.

But I got good in me, Michael.

I got good in me.

[Lincoln sighs heavily]

It'd just be nice if

you were here to... help me find it.

So... yeah.

[crow caws]

"Ogygia."

[keyboard keys clicking loudly]

Telling me where you are.

There's only one way to find out.

[groans]

MAN: Theodore Bagwell.

And you're Dr. Whitcombe,

the man who invited me to this mystery meeting

at 9:30 at night when the rest of the building's closed.

I know what you've done.

That's why I don't want to be seen associating with your sort.

Just want to know why I'm here, and...

if this has anything to do with that special envelope

I received in the prison.

I know nothing about an envelope.

I can only tell you my work.

Targeted muscle reinnervation.

Using the brain to manipulate prosthesis

as it were a natural limb.

But as with any cutting-edge work,

funding is not easy to find, and yet,

incredibly, I got the grant

in the form of a considerable anonymous grant

on one condition...

The first recipient of my procedure...

is you.

I can equip you

with a fully articulate prosthetic,

operationally indistinguishable from a real hand.

All of this because of an anonymous donor?

Someone seems to have plans for both of us.

I've reserved an operational lab for Monday

if you decide you are interested.

It's your hand, ultimately.

By your hand,

you shall know glories of your progeny.

What's that?

Nothing, Doc.

[panting]

[shovel thudding hollowly]

[shovel clanks on ground]

[grunting]

[creaking]

[panting]

Come on, Michael.

You must have left me something.

Come on!

[panting]

Come on.

[panting]

[sniffs, panting]

[brakes squeak]

[computer chirps]

[clack, tires squeal]

[computer chirps]

What's going on?

[groans]

[groans]

[groans, tires squealing, horns honking]

[groans]

[grunts]

[loud gasping]

[water gurgling]

[groans, pants]

[vehicle approaching]

[panting]

Oh, my God, what happened?

I'm not sure. I'm gonna call

- the police. - [man speaks indistinctly]

[panting]

[indistinct chatter, car door opens, closes]

[car engine starts]

[phone ringing]

Hello?

I dug up Michael's grave. He's not in it.

He... What?

Sara, someone just tried to kill me.

They've been watching. They've been watching,

- probably for... - Who tried to kill you?

It started at the airport. I...

There was a... a red sedan.

It started following me.

Then they... they... they swapped

down to a...

What was it? A pickup.

[vehicle engine approaching]

What color was the pickup?

LINCOLN: Black.

- Why? - [phone beeps off]

- [dial tone sounds] - Sara?

Jacob?

- Yeah. - Behind one of

the pictures on the brick wall, there's a hole, and there's

- a gun in it. I need you to get it. - What?!

Right now! Right now! Someone's coming for us!

A gun? What do you mean, a gun?

Mike?

WOMAN: 9-1-1. What is your emergency?

I have an armed intruder in the house.

I need you to send people right away.

I don't have time. Please, come.

- Mike? - JACOB: Sara?

What's going on, Sara?

[panting] Hey.

- Mom? - Come here.

[door slams open]

[panting]

Sara? Sara!

[panting]

[Jacob groans]

[Jacob groaning]

[pained groaning]

It's just me. There's no one else in the house.

- JACOB: What do you want? - Get in the tub.

Who's here, Mom? What do they want?

[Jacob groaning]

I don't know, baby.

[door squeaks open]

[metal creaking, Sara groans]

Okay, listen to me, if anyone comes

through that door, you don't move, okay?

I will put this through them, and you will not be harmed.

You understand? Good boy.

[sirens wailing in distance]

[groans]

Jacob?

[Jacob groans]

MIKE: Mom.

Go get every towel you can find.

Right now, right now.

Please, Jacob.

Okay. I think it got an artery.

Stay with me. I want you to look at me, all right?

Don't close your eyes and don't go to sleep, all right?

I'm gonna need you to stay with me.

I need an ambulance!

[indistinct chatter]

- How is he? - The shot almost completely

severed his femoral artery so they're trying to stabilize him.

And him?

SARA: He's seven.

How you doing, Mikey?

Something's happening, isn't it?

First, you come

and that person came in our house.

It has something to do with my real father, doesn't it?

Why do you say that?

Because I can see it in her face.

I'm gonna need to talk to your uncle.

I'm gonna be right over there

where you can see me. Okay?

What's going on?

We've awoken something.

Something people are trying to hide about Michael.

Your brother's dead, Lincoln.

Or is he dead? Where is the body?

Then why did he leave?

If he's been out there for all of these years,

why did he abandon his own son?

You know I'm right.

It wouldn't be like this if something wasn't happening.

- It wouldn't, but... - Let's fight back.

I don't know who we're fighting.

Let's go to Yemen and find out.

To Yemen? I have a son, Lincoln.

My husband's in the ER. Right? Look, leaving them is exactly

the wrong thing for me to do right now.

Ma'am. He's ready to see you.

One second.

I'll do it.

I'll go to Yemen.

You don't know a damn thing about Yemen.

I'll find someone who does.

See ya, Mikey.

_

[praying continues]

LINCOLN: I envy you.

You changed your life around.

C-NOTE: A man gets tired of living a profligate life.

So I took up jihad. Real jihad,

not that madness that you see on the news.

War within.

The spiritual struggle to clean up your act.

Finding and serving God.

That's good, man.

The world needs it, Linc.

I mean we're, uh, we're small here

but we do what we can

to help the peace efforts in the Middle East.

Working on anti-radicalization campaigns here at home.

Like I said, the struggle.

That's why I'm here.

If I needed to get to Yemen,

that something you could help me with?

C-NOTE: I thought he was dead.

So did everyone.

But Ogygia?

I mean, that's for heavy hitters,

political prisoners.

In Yemen, it doesn't come any worse.

I mean, do you know what it would take to stage a death?

Not to mention keeping a man who is not dead

under the radar for seven years.

Some very powerful players.

Sayed, what do you make of this mosque right here?

Aksa Mosque. It's one of the main ones in Sana'a.

- It's very distinct. - Ah.

SAYED: Sightlines seem pretty consistent

with what it would probably be from the prison to the mosque.

Now, you ask me, that photo's legit.

Then that's the building my brother's in.

Easiest way to find out is to call the prison and ask.

Mafi Michael Scofield.

Shukran.

There's no Michael Scofield.

Punch up an image from the Internet.

Michael Scofield.

Send it to the prison.

Maybe he's under a different name.

C-NOTE: Listen, Linc,

I got to say something, man.

Man, you got to slow your roll.

Yemen is in a civil war.

They're really close to collapse.

It's no place for a white man with an American passport,

no command of Arabic, to just show up on a whim.

And yet, apparently, my brother did.

Got a picture. Your brother's intake photo

from the Fox River Penitentiary.

Here's his DMV photo

and here's a photo from his old workplace Web site.

LINCOLN: It's not him.

None of them are.

Someone's erasing him from history.

- Lincoln, where are you going? - Hotel, to grab my stuff,

- then the airport. - Hey, listen.

You're not going to Yemen.

- Stop me. - You won't make it three days.

We need to go through the proper channels.

The proper channels?

Someone's erasing his existence.

Who does that? Who has that ability?

I'm telling you, Michael's caught

in the middle of something big.

What if he's not caught in the middle?

What are you saying?

Michael has never been anyone's sucker.

He's always been in control. Always.

You saying he faked his own death?

I'm saying you need to look

at all of the possibilities

before you walk into a war zone.

[sighs]

I wasn't sure you'd come.

Sometimes a man has to surrender to fate.

See what it has in store for him.

[monitor beeping]

WHITCOMBE: We'll need to put you under.

No, no, no. I don't do general anesthetic, compadre.

It's mandatory for a procedure like this.

You'll forgive me

if I have a problem lying unconscious

before a man with sharp items at his disposal.

It cannot be done without a general anesthetic.

Oh, I've done it before, friend.

And look what it got you.

[sighs]

You do anything untoward to me while I'm under and I'll...

You are the last man I'd run afoul of.

- Okay? - Mm.

Oh, fate, you mysterious bitch.

Why you doing this to me?

[monitor beeping]

Hi. Dry cleaning. Nice jacket.

Thank you, sir.

Have a good day.

[door creaks]

[grunts]

What the hell was that for?

Sucre, what the hell are you doing here?

C-Note told me what's going on.

He tell you to talk me out of it?

No. I'm coming with you.

LINCOLN: You're not coming.

SUCRE: Michael's my best friend. If he's alive,

if he's in trouble, I want to help.

Don't you have a job or something?

Yeah, on a tramp. Not great work,

but hey, I'm an ex-con, right?

Tramp?

Yeah, I've been riding her for a while.

What are you, a pimp?

What? No. No, no, no.

A tramp is a freelance cargo ship.

We go to Hong Kong, Spain, Buenos Aires,

basically wherever the boss tells us.

Corrupt son of a bitch.

Well, I suggest you get back on that tramp,

- 'cause you're not coming. - I'm telling you,

- I can help! - Listen to me, this is the Middle East.

Lots has changed. I'm an international hitter now.

A raconteur.

I don't think that means what you think it means.

Don't speak to me like I don't know French, I know French.

And I'm brown, that's something.

I'll fit in better over there

than you will, snowflake.

I decided I was wrong when I said

you would be dead inside of three days.

You go over there, you'll be dead inside of one.

But with me, we have people at the mosque

that have worked over there,

people with legal connections

that can get us inside of that prison.

Hold on. You're not saying he gets to go.

He's not any browner than I am.

[speaks Arabic] _

Huh?

No?

I managed to pick up a little Arabic

while I was serving in Iraq.

AIRLINE EMPLOYEE: This is the final boarding call for Flight 39

to JFK, connecting to Yemen. This is the final boarding...

Listen, man.

There's gonna be a time when I'm gonna need you.

[plane taking off in distance]

You better find him.

And you better call me when you do.

I will.

You really got contacts?

Contacts with contacts.

WOMAN: Could just follow 'em into the bathroom,

ragdoll him in one of stalls and be done with it.

Then we'd have a body to deal with.

And we want him utterly

and irrevocably gone from this world.

Where no amount of digging will bring him back.

[yelling, glass breaking]

_

[indistinct chatter]

We're the only ones coming into the place.

C-NOTE: Yeah, the country's falling apart.

Everyone wants out.

Who's that contact again?

A woman named Sheba.

Our handler.

She helps us track Americans that come in

to fight the jihad fight.

[explosions, panicked chatter]

[car alarms blaring]

Welcome to the civil war.

[man whistles loudly]

Mr. Franklin,

Ms. Sheba sent me to collect you.

As-salaam alaikum.

Wa alaikum as-salaam.

Uh, this way, gentlemen. Follow me.

_

GUIDE: Yemen very dangerous.

You never know who's enemies, who's friends.

Everyone scratching each other's backs.

ISIL is starting to attack the city.

They have been building up out in the desert for months.

If they... take the city,

they will kill all the secularists,

install Sharia law.

Huh. You know.

You don't seem worried.

[chuckles]

I scratch backs, too, my friend.

C-NOTE: No, no, no, no. This isn't right.

Hey, wait a minute,

this-this isn't the address.

- I get cigarettes. - No, no, you don't.

You take us straight to the address right now!

I-I get cigarettes.

C-NOTE: Linc, this is a setup.

Grab your bag now.

♪ ♪

[C-Note speaking Arabic] _

_

[man speaks Arabic]

[grunting]

[man speaks Arabic]

[grunting, yelling]

[shouts in Arabic]

Greetings from the U.S. prison system, bitches.

What is it?

Someone set us up.

Come quickly.

- [gunfire] - Or we'll all be dead!

Go, go. She's one of us.

Come on, grab your bag. Come on, let's go!

How did you find us?

SHEBA: A contact at the airport saw you

get into the wrong taxi.

You're lucky I found you.

This is very radicalized neighborhood.

Whoever set you up couldn't have set you up in a worse way.

[panting]

Throw your phones out the window.

I don't want anyone tracking us.

Do it!

[opens, closes door]

Sheba, this is Lincoln.

Lincoln... Sheba.

[monitor beeping steadily]

[footsteps approaching]

You've been made whole, Mr. Bagwell.

You're free to go.

Not till you tell me what you've put in me.

You feel an unease, do you?

I'd venture that's what's always been in you since birth.

Your soul. I just put the hardware into you.

You're the thing that runs it.

- Who's behind... - Nobody!

Nobody's behind this.

[groans]

What does that mean?

I got a single word. That's it.

Just... my benefactors ID'd themselves by a single word.

Outis.

[grunts] I looked it up.

It's Greek for "nobody."

That's who your benefactor is, Mr. Bagwell.

[panting]

Nobody.

[Muslim call to prayer over speakers]

[siren wailing in distance]

[car horns honk in distance]

_

[footsteps approaching]

Okay. [clears throat]

LINCOLN: Who's this?

Omar has connections in Ogygia Prison.

He says he can arrange a visit.

That mean Michael's in there?

There's apparently an American

in there matching

your brother's description.

There's just one thing.

Arranging such a visit is hard. Very difficult.

- Comes at a price. - Money's not a problem.

[clicks tongue] Not money.

Your passport.

My passport?

What, did...

- you want to hold it? - No. Straight trade.

Visit for your passport.

Uh, U.S. passport is like gold here.

A few changes, and it can be a ticket to freedom.

Don't do it, Linc.

C-NOTE: Mm-mm.

I know it is not ideal, but...

ideals as of right now are history in Yemen.

You cannot get out of the country

without a passport.

Don't do it.

Inshallah...

you will see your brother soon.

I told myself I'd never step foot in another prison.

As long as we walk out of it.

_

[man grunting]

[screaming]

[shouting in Arabic]

[man screams]

[speaking in Arabic]

[speaks in Arabic]

[speaks in Arabic]

There's no Michael Scofield.

It was a scam to get my passport.

Omar is one of my most trusted operators.

Listen, lady. Trust doesn't seem to mean

a whole lot in this country.

Give me a second, okay?

I'll figure out a way to work this thing out.

An image.

Right? The one that they sent to you?

- Oh, yeah, yeah. - Do you have it?

Look.

There. [clears throat]

Kaniel Outis.

Yes, Kaniel Outis. Is he here?

[speaks in Arabic]

He says, yes, the man in the picture is here

and we can see him, but only 'cause we're dealing with Sheba.

Why did you say that name?

Because of my brother's jacket.

Thought you were on the right side of God on this.

Sheba. No, hey, hey. Sheba...

Hey. Kaniel Outis

is a big-time terrorist.

They got him in here for murder.

He's been working with ISIL

trying to take down the government.

Come on, C.

You know that's not Michael.

Well, whoever he is...

we're about to meet him.

[thunder crashes]

MIKE: What was my father like?

My real father.

[sighs]

Michael Scofield...

was like a storm.

Grab the camera.

I want to prove he's alive.

He was beautiful

and frightening

and mysterious.

And he would show up in your life

out of the clear blue sky

and then he would disappear just as quickly.

But storms, they can come back.

Can't they?

Mm-hmm.

Question is, if they come back,

is it the same storm,

or has something changed?

[thunder crashes]

Michael.

New tats.

What do you mean, new?

We're gonna get you out of here.

My name isn't Michael.

And I don't know who you are.

Sorry.

[speaking in Arabic] _

Michael.

Michael.

Michael, talk to me. Michael...

Mike.

Mike! What are you doing, damn it?!

[door closes]

[crying]

- Sync & corrections by Vito Silans - - www.addic7ed.com resynced by Madridista12