Those of you who selected the "Seth's doomed" option in the poll from the last recap, congratulate yourself on your prescience: T-Bag's little pocket jockey manages to hang himself mere moments after Michael rejects his pleas for help. The incident provides a perfect jumping-off point (as it were) for two other plot developments. Dr. Tancredi goes poking around Michael's medical history and discovers that prior to his current stint in the pokey, he was quite the bleeding-heart humanitarian. Oh, and he's also apparently a genius. As for plot development No. 2: a busload of new inmates arrives. T-Bag's taken with Tweener, an annoying young man who's failed to grasp the identity politics inherent in prison lingo. T-Bag harasses the kid for a while until Michael calls him on his bluff to tell the bulls about the escape plan, then whacks him in the shin with a crowbar. This may alter Team Escarpara's power dynamic in the future.
As for the actual break-out plan, there's good news and there's bad news: the good news is, nobody's fallen in the giant hole that the boys have dug. The bad news is, Abruzzi's just been demoted by the Mafia, so he's broke. This means he can't continue to pay off Bellick, so Team Escarpara is off PI by the end of the episode -- and therefore unable to finish the dig.
Meanwhile, Nick the legal beagle gives Veronica some tough love (not like that) and the two of them grow enough of a brain between them to deliver LJ from Agents Kellerman and Hale.
Previously on Prison Break: Team Escarpara got their kicks on Route 66; T-Bag's kicks were located somewhere higher on the numeric scale, much to the dismay of pocket-pet Seth.
We open this episode with yet another set-up that makes me suspect the writers are also founding members of the First Church of Wentworth Miller. It's a shot of Michael's arm, and the tattooed image on it is a pensive-looking angel. The arm happens to be wet, because Michael's taking a shower. Before we can see the Full Michael, Seth pops into view and beseeches him: "Help me. Please."
Michael flips off the water and looks at Seth. It's not a friendly look. Before Michael can switch out of staring mode, T-Bag glides into the room and drapes himself over a strategically-positioned partition, coughing delicately. I do hope the Cotillion King hasn't caught hisself a touch of the consumption. T-Bag then sidles up to Michael and confides, "You'll have to forgive my boy. He has the, ah, propensity to be a bit gregarious when he shouldn't be. Fraternizing in the prison shower -- come on." Look at all the fifty-cent words T-Bag's tossing around! I suppose when you're buggering someone who took their SATs just last year, some of their verbal section skills are bound to rub off on you.
Michael turns, and we get a nice shot of the tattoo. He suggests that perhaps T-Bag might want to lay off on young Seth, and T-Bag's face instantly sharpens into the anticipatory, predatory look we've come to know and dread. He asks, "You wouldn't happen to be meddling in my affairs, would you, Scofield? You can't be that stupid. Not when I'm so fully invested in your affairs." Michael stares at him. But while he is very good at staring, he has not yet mastered the black art of giving looks that can actually kill. Michael finally says, "What's between you and him is between you and him." T-Bag smiles and purrs, "That's what I thought you said." Michael wanders off. Robert Knepper stands there thinking, "Damn, I'm good." If he's not, he should be.
Michael wanders off in a sequence that's sure to tax the rewind, pause and slow-motion buttons on DVRs nationwide. Seth reappears, floating wraithlike behind him. "You've got to help me," he says. Michael meanders away without even acknowledging him. Seth snaps back into the same numb, resigned stare he wears the rest of the time.
We then hear Linc's gravelly voice: "You gotta help me." Pope's all, "I don't gotta do anything." The upshot of this scene: Lincoln begs to be released on some limited, supervised leave so he can go find LJ. Pope's reply can be summarized thusly: "Are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten that you're a convicted killer? You don't get time off for child-care crises." What he does not add: "Also, if your son's being set up by a conspiracy that's trying to kill you, don't you think that your finding him only jeopardizes him more?" Linc is handy if you'd like to delay your inevitable beating at the hands of prison inmates by ten minutes, but he's not so much your man for strategery, is he?
And then we jump on over to Team Escarpara, working in St. Louis. Sucre is doing the worst lookout job ever: Bellick sneaks up right behind him and hollers, "What do you think this is, a siesta?" Sweet fancy Moses, is there no loathsome trait the writers will not give Bellick? He's a bully, he's corrupt, he's sexist, he's crude, he hates pets, and he's a racist. Are we in for future treats like watching him drive his Ford Esplanade through a field of endangered plant species? Maybe eating a Happy Meal in front of hungry children? Dressing up like Santa Claus and making his dog Max haul all his stolen Christmas booty? I realize we're supposed to see the big situational irony that the guard is more amoral than the inmates, but…ease off the throttle, you know?
Anyhoodle, Bellick points to the plaque that improbably survived the fire which GUTTED the rest of the building, and he asks, "See my face up there? Got any idea how it got up there?" Intra-office back-stabbing, negligence, and bullying? Bellick continues, "Work ethic. Those two words mean anything in your country?" Correct me if I'm wrong, but Sucre's country is New York City, is it not? That's not a metropolis known for its lackadaisical approach to…well, anything. So there's another black mark against Bellick: he's woefully provincial.
Once Bellick hustles out, T-Bag cues Michael and Team Escarpara resumes their work on the pipe, which is now getting quite wide. Sucre and the rest of the boys take out their frustration on the floor. Sucre comments, "The bulls find this stuff, they'll know we're digging." Michael points out that they've got to get rid of it, one piece at a time.
Team Escarpara then proceeds to stage the Fox River revival of The Great Escape, discreetly carrying out little chunks of debris and scattering it in the yard before grinding it into the soil. Everyone looks incredibly cool while doing this. This is not what you'd call a "deterrent" for anyone mulling a life of crime or its consequences.
A bus pulls up outside the yard, and T-Bag's drawn to the fence. He sidles to Michael and whispers, "Freshmen." We see the inmates getting off the bus. Although all are handcuffed, they're in varying outfits. The musical backbeat of impending racial violence begins and we see one young man advise his blond compadre, "Best put on a jail face, BG. These crabs see you puckerin', they're going to bitchify you in a heartbeat." Cut to T-Bag grinning, because it's evident that he's not hankering after BG, but his annoying young compadre. Michael stares (yeah, contain your surprise), then walks off. He leaves a small chunk of concrete behind…which a curious C-Note promptly notices and picks up.
Everyone's moseying inside the prison and Sucre's telling Michael, "Looks like I gotta find something else to call you now." Michael smiles a little and asks, "Why is that?" Sucre's grinning as he explains, "You ain't a fish no more. You ain't the newest con in the tank no --"
He stops talking abruptly. Michael looks over, and we see that Seth's there. The young inmate's tied one end of a sheet to the cell door and the other end around his neck. Seth clambers over the railing, then flings himself down. We see him fall. Then we switch to Michael's reaction shot. Yes, he is staring. But he is also gaping in shock. Then Michael's face sort of melts into a muddle of appalled remorse. We see Seth's shoes scrabble for a moment. Michael gasps and turns away.
Commercials. Again with the Pier One! However, the green rug they're featuring in their dining room tableau intrigues me. At long last, Sobell loved Big Wicker.
When we return, everyone's in the chapel. Michael's sitting behind Linc, and he says, "I should have done something." Linc points out, "No. T-Bag had his hooks in that kid. There was nothing you could have done." Michael points out that he could have said something to Pope, who would have then transferred Seth to "AdSeg" (administrative segregation?) where he would have been safe. Linc is having a hard time understanding why Michael's so exercised over this. Linc has a hard time understanding a lot of things. Michael shoots back, "I turned my back on him because I didn't want to make waves. It was...easier to look the other way. Keep the plan safe." Linc rubs some salt in Michael's wounds with, "You did -- at what price?" Michael does not draw up short and ask, "Tell me again why I thought it was a good idea to rescue you?" Instead he continues agonizing: "That's not how she raised us. A man's down, you give him your hand. She'd roll over in her grave if she knew what I'd become." Linc redeems himself in this scene by disagreeing vigorously: "No, she wouldn't. You've given me your hand, Michael." He then places a little more pressure on Michael to please get them out ASAP, as LJ's running around shoeless in the greater Chicago area.
Speaking of the kid, here he is, crouched on a building step. He's supposed to be near Lake Michigan, as the Marina City towers are right across the street. He's looking rough.
And in the If two bores live in the woods, will anyone care? plotline, a considerably freshened-up Veronica is poking around the cabin when she just happens to find the cache of firearms Nick's dad hid behind a false wall in the pantry. It's not a very good false wall if Veronica is detecting it. Nick comes out and Veronica's stammering, "Gun! I mean, I was just looking for the Kona bullet -- I mean, blend. You're not buying this, are you?" Nick's like, "Hey, they were my dad's." Veronica wants to know how long they've been there, and Nick says, "I don't know -- five years." I don't get it: is Veronica concerned that the guns' freshness date has passed? Nick checks Veronica staring at him suspiciously and finally snaps: "You know, Veronica, we've been through a lot and I'm, uh, freaking out as much as you are. But you get this look in your eyes sometimes like I'm the bad guy." And here I thought the look was, "Mister, you're in your underwear and I'd like to get you out of it." Veronica protests that she barely knows Nick. He's on a roll: "I think you seem to be forgetting something here. I'm in the crosshairs, same as you are. All for your ex-boyfriend who, unlike my father, is a scumbag criminal who just happens to be in prison for the one crime he didn't commit." Burn! Also: I think Nick's a little jealous of Lincoln. Boy, won't that be an awkward romantic triangle later. He then snots that Veronica's welcome to hitch out of BFE if she's not going to wipe that suspicious leer off her face. Veronica looks away, thinking, Dang, some people are really touchy after murder attempts.
Back in prison, C-Note's combing the perimeter, looking for more detritus. He's also keeping an eye on Michael. The annoying new inmate comes over and asks, "Mind if I lamp with you, cuzzo?" In perfect time to the backbeat of impending racial disharmony, C-Note replies, "Roll, Snowflake." The young lad fails to read the social cues and protests, "I'm just looking for some homies." C-Note disabuses the young man of any fantasies he may have been entertaining about replicating the Morgan Freeman/Tim Robbins magic in Shawshank Redemption. A half-dozen more African-American inmates decide that it's time to remind the young man that he's comparatively melatonin-deprived. Over on another wall, T-Bag cracks, "Boy's a bit confused about his pigmentation." It's good to see that grieving for Seth hasn't dulled his instincts for le bon mot.
And then Bellick calls Abruzzi over, so John stops dropping pebbles in a nearby grate. Bellick asks what he's doing and Abruzzi replies, "What do you mean, 'What am I doing?'" It turns out the question was merely a pretext for another conversation: the only reason Abruzzi's running PI is because he pays a monthly bribe to Bellick. Of course he does. How else would Bellick fund those trips to the Arctic ice caps to club baby seals and spray aerosol cans of AquaNet directly at the sky? Abruzzi gets panicky because it turns out that Bellick's bribe had been deposited via online transfer from one bank to another, and if the transfer didn't go through, that means Abruzzi's finances are in trouble.
Cut to a stubble-cam shot of Abruzzi's chin, which is a creative decision I don't entirely understand. However, we soon find out that, yes, Abruzzi's finances are in trouble, as is his career path, what with lawyer Philly Falzone no longer taking his calls.
Meanwhile, in the outside world...we've just arrived at the awkward post-sex moment, if Nick's dour expression and Veronica's downcast one are any indication. Veronica apologizes: "I'm sorry." "It's not you. It happens to lots of guys," Nick replies. Oh, not really. But isn't imagining these two having a supremely awkward post-hookup conversation more entertaining than the actual conversation? No? Okay, then. Veronica apologizes for being suspicious and Nick sort of accepts it with, "Pressure's getting to us. That's all. The good news is, nobody can reach us out here. My old man made sure of it. He never even hooked up a phone. Same with the well and the generator. I used to think he was some kind of conspiracy-theory wacko. Turns out maybe he was on to something." Veronica looks like she acutely regrets giving Nick another conversational opening through which to jam The Paternal Monologues. She points out that she can't play Mrs. Unabomber in the woods with Nick because there's this guy on Death Row she's trying to exonerate, conspiracy or no conspiracy.
Nick decides that yes, hiding out in the woods would only be letting the terrorists win, so they'll start unraveling the conspiracy by finding out who wanted Steadman dead. Therefore, chatting with the Widow Steadman might be their first smart move. He and Veronica theorize that because Agents Hale and Kellerman think they're dead, so long as they're low-profile, they can get a lot done.
Back in prison, Linc is jeopardizing everyone's chances for a stealthy escape by bashing the floor with brute force. Yes, Lincoln, we get that you're all torqued about your kid. Now think about how useful you'll be to him after you've alerted the guards to your escape plan. Abruzzi appeals to Michael with, "Your brother's going to give us away!" and Michael just kind of gapes helplessly. Veronica was right: theirs is a dysfunctional kind of love. Sucre points out that a CO is coming and there's a mad scramble to cover the hole with a carpet and table. The guard comes in -- it's the guy who normally stands outside Pope's office, hitting on Becky the secretary. He barks for everyone to get out. They do. T-Bag looks very rattled. Again, my hat's off to Robert Knepper, because with that one reaction, he's told us so much about how badly T-Bag wants out.
The guard herds them outside. Michael asks, "Where we going?" and the guard tells them, "Down there, around the corner. And don't move a damn muscle until I come get you. Go." The baffled inmates wander off; the scowling Sucre asks, "What the hell's going on?"
What's going on is that the guard's about to get lucky with Becky the secretary. She swings out of the bookcase where she had been hiding and giggles, "We are so bad!" Yes. In a prison filled with rapists and murderers, you certainly are rebels outside the law.
Outside, the rest of the cons try to play it cool, except Sucre. He'd rather scowl. Michael swings over and says, "You gotta give us more of a warning time." Sucre apologizes sincerely, adding, "He just showed up."
Inside St. Louis, we find out that Becky revs her engine by fantasizing about Pope walking in on them. Whatever works, I guess. The guard plops her on the table that's perched mere millimeters from the hole in the floor and tells her, "Baby, right now, in this room, at this moment, I am the warden." Okay, now I don't know what's weirder: getting off on the idea of Pope catching you, or getting off on the idea of being Pope. As they have a micro-quickie, he implores her, "Come on, say it." "I'm not going to say it," she shrieks. "Say it, baby. Come on, say it," he urges. "Oh! You're the warden, Louis!" she cries. I realize that during all this we're supposed to be watching the table inch ever-closer to the hole, but I was too distracted wondering if Becky also fantasizes about getting clemency from the governor. If you know what I mean.
Commercials. The Burger King menaces another football game with both his slide tackle and his "chicken fries." Why can't he slide into a wood chipper? Show me that and I'll eat the "chicken fries" my own self.
When we return, the inmates are all peering around the corner. Linc's keeping lookout. Yes, the death penalty inmate, the one who is so dangerous, he had to receive visitors in the Hannibal Lector cage, is just standing around unsupervised in the prison yard. Yeah, I don't get it either. Anyway, Linc's the one who watches "Warden" Louis gallantly escort Becky back after the quickie, and he mutters, "The sneaky son of a bitch." Behind him, Sucre inquires, "Do you think he found the hole?" Michael gives his cellie a slow double-take. And a moment later he inadvertently keeps the joke going by hunkering down to inspect the table and decreeing, "Another inch and he'd have found it." So you're saying Becky's unsatisfied? Michael decides he needs to find something to cover the hole ASAP.
Well, he'll be doing that off-camera, as now is the scene where Abruzzi discovers that yes, the Mob has bent him over and told him to scream "Warden!" Philly Falzone had power of attorney for Abruzzi, and he used it to liquidate all of Abruzzi's assets. Abruzzi storms out of his meeting with the accountant and passes one of his lieutenants, Gus. The other man acts like he didn't see Abruzzi. So John's stewing about that, but the worst is yet to come: Gus is meeting with Philly Falzone, and they've gotten to the point where they kiss hello. As Philly escorts Gus to a seat, he catches John's eye and smirks. Abruzzi realizes he's been demoted.
In another part of the prison, Dr. Tancredi's on the phone, negotiating the nightmare labyrinth of a managed-care customer service hotline. First a prison riot and near-rape, now HMO employees. Hasn't the poor woman suffered enough? Sara explains that "We're actually in kind of a unique situation here. Mr. Scofield's insurance policy from his employer hasn't lapsed yet. For that reason, the state's demanding that you pay for his treatment, and not the taxpayers." The operator's all, "Well, he's already met his deductible -- oh, wait, that's his psych deductible, not his medical deductible." What? This doesn't seem plausible. Then again, any state handling any sort of paperwork in a detail-oriented and expeditious fashion also seems highly implausible. And then again, I am watching Prison Break, instead of a show rooted in Earth logic. So the insurance lady's A-OK! Dr. Tancredi's all, "Psych as in 'psychiatric'?" The lady replies, "No, 'psych' as in 'Psych! Like I'd tell you his entire medical history over the phone.'" I wish. She confirms that yes, Michael was seeing a mental health professional.
Out in the yard, Abruzzzzzzzzz...what? Sorry, I dozed off. I just can't bring myself to care about this plot complication, because I can see how it'll play out: Michael will agonize over handing over information about the Mob informant, Abruzzi will drape himself all over someone like a flesh pashmina, hissing, "Feeeeeeeb-oh-nahhhhh-chi" in that inexplicable delivery, and then Michael will be all, "The plan! Has forced me to make another morally fraught Hobson's Choice!" and he'll Blue Steel so we know he's serious. And then we'll move on to whatever new, gear-jamming monkey wrench is being forged by the plotsmiths. So just suffice it to say in this scene, Gus confirms that he is the new boss and Abruzzi is demoted to "yesterday's news."
Speaking of things you should not care about, there's Tweener, bringing the assorted race factions in Fox River together through their mutual hatred of him. In the A-wing, one of the Fabulously Gay White Supremacists punches the little snot hard enough to send him to the ground. The bystanders begin revving for the weekly riot, but T-Bag dashes forward, shouting, "The boy slipped!" Ah, blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be looking for a new bitch. As T-Bag helps the boy up and makes small talk ("What's your name? How do you feel about pederasts?"), Michael stands in the shadows on the second floor and glares suspiciously.
Lincoln, he's been thinking. And what he's been thinking is that now is a fine time to beg the guard for a phone so he can try and raise his boy on the mobile. Linc manages to get his phone call by grabbing the guard's hand and asking him, "What if it were your son? What if it were [your son]? Please?" It's unclear if either Linc's heartfelt appeal or his fabulously smooth hands will work on the guard.
Meanwhile, on the outside...LJ's moving down a street with quick, nervous strides. He ducks into a protected corner and checks to confirm that he's got the picture of the gun-wielding Kellerman. He quickly mails a copy to himself at lj@ign.com, and once that's done, his phone rings. The display reads: "Incoming ID: Inmate at Fox River." Wouldn't it be nice if all caller ID sported accurate labels? "Drinking buddy." "Clingy ex." "Weird friend-of-friend." "Person I'd like to shtupp." "Least favorite sibling." This could totally change the telecom industry! LJ picks up the phone and croaks, "Dad?" We then have this emotion-drenched exchange:
Linc: LJ. Thank God. Thank God you're all right.LJ: Her number is disconnected. I already tried.
LJ: [shaking head, almost sobbing] No. I'm nowhere near it.
Linc: What? What do you mean?
LJ: [still sniffly] What they're saying about me, it's not true, it's --
Linc: I know it's not true. [gapes in impotent agony, reels as he stands against a wall in a secluded courtyard]
LJ: They killed her. They killed her. They killed her right in front of my eyes, and, and, and, why are they doing this?
Linc: You gotta -- you gotta -- listen! Listen! You gotta step up, you gotta be the man now. You understand me? You understand me, LJ?
LJ: Yeah.
Linc: I want you to call Veronica.
Linc: [thinking hard; forehead nearly splits a seam from the strain] Nick Savrinn. You call Nick Savrinn from Project Justice. You call him once we're done. You got it?
The conversation then comes to a pretty abrupt end, what with Agents Kellerman and Hale pulling up. LJ says despairingly, "They're here," and begins running. On the other end of the line, we hear Linc having a bit of a freak-out. What we see is Agent Kellerman sprinting out of the car while Agent Hale tries to parallel park. It's kind of hilarious, in a completely accidental way. I like to imagine Hale being all, "Dang! I'm going to have to pull out and try again."
Commercials. I have been told that this Jennifer Aniston/Clive Owen movie may actually be set in Chicago, despite having been shot in London. Frankly, you could set Clive Owen on a radioactive atoll and you'd still have a watchable little flick. It's the Jennifer Aniston element I'm not embracing without reservation. On a different note, that MasterCard commercial with all the commercial icons -- the Jolly Green Giant, Count Chocula, et cetera -- getting together for Thanksgiving makes me sad, as it suggests that they're all workaholics who can only bond with other brand icons. I may be reading too much into that.
When we return, LJ is running and Kellerman's right behind him. Yeah, nobody will blink twice at an older man chasing down a teenaged boy. Okay, maybe not in some neighborhoods. ["Like Neverland. Can I get a rimshot?" -- Sars] Hale is still circling the block, looking for parking. LJ dashes into a parking lot. As luck would have it. Hale just happens to be pulling into the lot. For some reason, Kellerman took his eyes off LJ for a moment, and now he's missing the kid. LJ's tucked beneath a car. Kellerman prowls through the parking lot. He stops in front of the car LJ happens to be under -- right at the moment LJ's phone begins to buzz. The camera swoops to Kellerman's face, which is all, Say, that buzzing normally indicates my dark mistress, lady of the flies. But she's chairing the Senate today …
Kellerman pulls his gun and cocks it. LJ hears the noise and has a very quiet freak-out. Kellerman asks conversationally, "Do you hear that? Did you hear it? Do you know what that means? Why don't you ask your mom what it means? Oh, I'm sorry, you might have trouble getting an answer from her right about now, huh?" Less taunting, more shooting, bad-ass! And because Kellerman followed the fallacy of the talking villain, LJ's had plenty of time to slither through the parking lot and get out undetected.
Meanwhile, Nick and Veronica have somehow managed to get into some swanky Chicago rooftop joint despite looking like something the cat dragged in. Nick lifts a cell phone, telling Veronica, "I'm just getting connected." They head over to Mrs. Steadman and Nick introduces them as "Dick Sisler" and "Francette Kelly," and smoothly lies that they're with the National Victims' Rights Association, providing assistance for victims of violent crime. They sit down with the caustic widow, who tells them, "If we wanted to talk about who had motive to kill Terrence Steadman, we'd be here all day. Look around. Half the people in this place were shareholders in his company. Every one of them sat at my husband's memorial, and every one of them was thinking the same thing: Thank God he's gone." Nick's all, "Wha-huh?" Leslie clarifies: "Money. As soon as the indictments started, you should have seen them run for the exits." Veronica's all "Indict-- wha?" and Leslie explains that Steadman died before the hammer could drop. She snaps, "Do the math: CEO of a corporation gets indicted for fraud, investors start losing money, lots of money. If I didn't know for sure Burrows pulled the trigger, I'd say it was any one of these people in this restaurant." Oh, hogwash. Shareholders don't get homicidal -- they get litigious. Or else we'd have far fewer Enron execs running around. Or Qwest ex-execs. Or McKesson, or Hollinger, or WorldCom, or AIG, or...you get the picture. The point here is, Veronica and Nick have just been handed a big clue reading "FOLLOW THE MONEY."
Back in prison, Tweener continues bringing together disparate prison factions via their common loathing of him. He slinks over to a bench and sits down, radiating petulance. T-Bag sits down and sunnily inquires, "Not a good position to find yourself in, is it? Whites don't want you, blacks don't want you. You're just caught in the middle, aren't you? A regular tweener. We're different, you and me, in a lot of ways. But you know the funny thing is, we're also a lot alike. A couple of dogs with runny noses that nobody loves." T-Bag then squeezes Tweener's knee in a less than platonic way, and asks, "How's that knee, by the way?" Tweener leaps back, asking, "What the hell you doin'?" Coming on to you, son. He's not as smooth as normal because his left pocket is currently Maytag's memorial pocket and the right one is reserved in Seth's memory. T-Bag protests that he's just a friend, and Tweener snorts, "Yeah, a fruity friend. I don't need none of that." T-Bag tells Tweener to chill, but Tweener pays about as much attention to this vital social cue as he has to every other, which is to say: none at all. Tweener continues, "You think you getting up in this, you got another think coming, you homo."
T-Bag looks honestly shocked that anyone would accuse him of being homosexual. He only has boyfriends! That doesn't make him gay at all! T-Bag hisses that Tweener's got a foul mouth, and Tweener belligerently says, "Yeah, I do. And you come near me again, I'm gonna kill you." T-Bag laughs shortly, then smiles and says, "Well, you're just going to have to, little man." The implied threat hangs between them before poking Tweener's bravado; he's carried away on the steady deflation of his own machismo.
As they head back into the cellblock, T-Bag brightly says, "You're gonna have to sleep with one eye open, girlie." "Bring it on, bitch," Tweener replies. T-Bag assures him that it's being brought. Right then, Michael pipes up, "Maybe you ought to leave that kid alone." T-Bag suggests that maybe Michael ought to cram it sideways. I suggest that maybe Michael could have worked harder to keep Seth alive, as the poor little guy was far less irritating than Tweener. At this point, I'm rooting for the punk to go back to his cell and discover that he's bunking down with the Burger King.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Dr. David George Brighton, clinical psychiatrist, begins cheerfully babbling all of Michael's mental health history to Dr. Sara Tancredi after she's all, "My understanding is that under [the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act], we're allowed to share information as long as it furthers the care of the patient." Or gives the doctors fabulous hair. Seriously, what gives with Dr. Tancredi's loose, curly 'do? Does she play dress-up for all her Scofield-related sleuthing? Sara continues, "I'm not accustomed to making inquiries like this, but I feel like I can get through to him. I can help him." Dr. Brighton says, "I imagine he needs it in there." We then find out that "Michael suffered from a couple of things. One was a condition called low-latent inhibition...people who [have it] see everyday things just like you and I do -- like this lamp, for instance -- but where we process the image of a lamp, they process everything. The stem, the bulb, the bolts, even the washers inside. Their brains are more open to incoming stimuli in the surrounding environment. Other people's brains -- yours and mine -- shut out the same information. We have to do it in order to keep our sanity. If someone with a low IQ has low latent-level inhibition, it almost always results in mental illness, but if someone has a high IQ, it almost always results in creative genius."
While Dr. Brighton is blah-blah-blahing, we're getting lots of flashbacks of Michael in front of the Big Wall O' Planning and in assorted prison areas, but just in case we haven't yet absorbed the idea that Michael wanders around looking overwhelmed because...well, he apparently is, Dr. Tancredi asks, "Do you think Michael's a genius?" The doctor thinks so, yes. We also find out that addition to his staggering intellect, Dr. Brighton also treated Michael for his low self-esteem, helpfully adding, "With the low-latent inhibition, something very interesting happened to Michael. He became very attuned to all the suffering around him. He couldn't shut it out. He became a rescuer. One of those people who are more concerned with other people's welfare than their own." Sara practically swoons as she contemplates Michael being a big, altruistic genius, and breathes, "I didn't know all this about him." Well, walking into prison with "ASK ME ABOUT MY BLEEDING HEART" tattooed on your forehead might be a recipe for trouble. (As opposed to walking into prison with "ASK ME ABOUT MY PLAN TO BREAK OUT" tattooed on your thorax…) Dr. Brighton twists the knife a little with, "Maybe you don't know Michael Scofield." Dr. Tancredi looks wrecked at this possibility.
It's dark inside the prison, and Michael's busy over-observing it all. T-Bag's singing a horrible little ditty about how he's so very taken with Tweener, and Tweener is quietly weeping. I cannot believe the rest of the prisoners are not rioting over this musical interlude the same way they did when the considerably more tuneful Sucre let loose with his stylings a few episode ago. Michael stares and agonizes for a while.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Nick and Veronica are pulling back up to the Unalawyer cabin. Nick decides to check his work voicemail. I initially thought this wasn't a bright move, then realized that since Agents Kellerman and Hale are turning out to be not so very detail-oriented, Nick could probably check his voicemail, drain his checking account, and make an on-air dedication at a classic-rock radio station ("Yes, I'd like to hear 'Veronica' by Elvis Costello? It's for a very special lady -- she knows who she is.") and the agents wouldn't notice. Anyway, the point is that Nick just learned that LJ's in trouble. For some reason, the powers that be don't think it necessary for us to see Veronica's reaction to this news about the person she knows.
LJ's still running around the mean streets of Chicago. His phone rings. Veronica would like to know where he is. LJ doesn't know, and asks Veronica to come get him. The poor kid's drained. Veronica gently tells him they can't, but he can come to them. Before she can spill the beans as to where the Unalawyer cabin is, Agents Hale and Kellerman roll up. "Ohhhh, how the hell do they know where I am? How the hell do they know where I am? No! I don't understand!" LJ moans. FYI: The agents apparently have a scanner cued to the cell phone. I'm guessing it's the GPS-positioning technology that most newer-model phones have; it's normally used for 911 calls, but who says Shadowy Government Forces aren't also privy to the technology? LJ continues sliding into hysteria with, "Everywhere I go, they're there." Veronica firmly tells him to come by bus to Lake Mercer, on the Iowa border. We switch to the agents listening in on this call. Hale says disgustedly, "They're still alive." Kellerman's pleased: "Looks like the bird in hand just became three." He's awfully upbeat for someone who screwed up two separate assignments, then lied about the results to his dark mistress. Because Kellerman's getting greedy, he orders Hale to drive off rather than collar LJ now.
Back in prison, Abruzzi lashes out at his new boss by gouging out his eyeball with a broken light bulb. Gus is all, "What the hell are you doing?" and Abruzzi snarls, "Delivering yesterday's news." Cut to a shot of Gus screaming and screaming...and the guards failing to run in to see what all the fuss is about.
Commercials. Ben & Jerry's would like you to be concerned about the impending loss of America's family farms. Yes, masters. Anything you say, masters. Please continue making the Chubby Hubby, masters.
When we get back, we see LJ buying a bus ticket to somewhere (we don't hear where), then brazenly lifting some sleeping guy's shoes.
Back in the prison, it's morning. Michael is grinding a handful of pebbles into the ground and watching the Fabulously Gay White Supremacists goad Tweener. As he stands and stares, Dr. Tancredi comes over on the opposite side of the fence and tries making a little first-date talk: "I, uh, um, just wanted you to know that if you're looking for someone to talk to in here, you're not alone. It's part of my job to counsel inmates and help them with their problems." Michael's staring at her, all, Did you do something with your hair? He tells her curtly, "I got things pretty well figured out." Sara plows on, "I sorta backed into some information about you. I hope you don't mind, but you have to understand, there's a reason I became a doctor. It's in my nature to want to help. From what I understand, it's in your nature too. You did a lot of good things before you were in here -- a lot of community work, a lot of charity work. What happened?" Michael Blue Steels her for a bit, then says, "The man you're talking about died the moment I stepped behind these walls." Way to shut down the conversation, Michael. See if she asks you out again!
Meanwhile, on the outside...the Lake Mercer bus arrives on the misty moors. Seriously, I had no idea downstate Illinois and Scotland had so much in common. Agents Hale and Kellerman are waiting, their trusty phone detector beeping merrily between them. They get out, guns drawn, and board the bus. Kellerman cheerily informs the passengers that he's with the Secret Service and asks them to remain calm, where they are. He and Hale trundle down the bus aisle looking for LJ. When they get to a back door, they open it and -- there's only LJ's cell phone, stashed on top of the toilet-paper holder in the cleanest bus bathroom the world has ever known. Kellerman checks out his hair on the shiny, shiny reflections beaming off every surface. He comes out and tosses the phone to Hale. Rapidly proving himself to be the real brains of the operation, Hale flips open the phone and notices that LJ's emailed a picture of gun-toting Kellerman. Kellerman begins laughing in an I-can't-believe-this-is-happening kind of way.
In a much sunnier part of the Midwest, a bus pulls up at New Glarus and LJ stumbles off. He sees Veronica and Nick leaning against a car. Veronica immediately swoops him into a hug. Good for her! LJ begins crying. We get a flashback to the end of the last phone conversation they had, and it turns out that Veronica and Nick put their heads together and realized that the agents were tracking LJ by his phone. So they sent LJ a text message telling him to dump the phone and meet them in New Glarus.
Back in the prison, Linc is having himself a big of a meltdown in his cell. Fortunately, a guard comes in right then to relieve the tedium with a big pile of papers ostensibly from Linc's attorney. Linc flips through the first few pages of what appears to be legal argle-bargle, and then he comes on a page bearing a post-it with the legend "Notes from Mrs. Weatman's 6th grade biology class." Linc runs his finger down the right side of the page, and we read the vertical message: "It's LJ. I'm with Veronica. I'm OK. I love you." Linc...does not react. I swear, someone really needs to tail him, just so they can hit him with a folding chair and evoke some sort of dramatic emotional reaction when appropriate. Linc! Your son is okay! The one you've been worried about! Showing a little relief might be appropriate.
Team Escarpara is heading out to St. Louis, and they pass Tweener's little cell-block section being walked to the yard. T-Bag smirks. Sucre asks him what he's grinning about, and T-Bag squeals, "Oooooooh, just that I'm going to be getting out in a little bit. The fact that I'm going to be out in the real world in a little bit. The fact that I'm going to be getting me one final piece of tail certainly don't hurt neither." Sucre looks sorry he asked. Michael just glowers. T-Bag walks by and gooses Michael, asking lightly, "Nothing like tail, eh, Scofield?" Don't mock -- out of all Team Escarpara, Michael's the one in the best position to enjoy the company of live, willing women.
Once they're inside St. Louis, Linc and Abruzzi lift up the table. Michael nonchalantly picks up a crowbar. T-Bag is still giggling in anticipation of the moment he's free to attend the cotillion with whomever he pleases. He turns to Michael with a smile on his face…
...And Michael whangs him good in the shin with the crowbar. T-Bag goes down like a sack of potatoes. Sucre heads to the door for lookout as Michael drones, "This ends right now." Through clenched teeth, T-Bag grits out, "You just screwed some major-league pooch, Pretty. I'm gonna sing like a tree full of birds now. BADGE!" Michael leans in and sneers. He whispers, "You want to sing, then sing. But you know what I think? You don't have the guts. You want out of here just as much as the rest of us."
The guard comes in. T-Bag's so stunned that Michael called his bluff, he can only stammer that no, there is no problem. Once the guard's gone, Michael's all back up in T-Bag's grill, and he purrs, "You and I may be stuck together in this little dance, but I call the shots. First shot: that kid out there? You don't touch him ever. Do we understand each other?" T-Bag is visibly nervous. It's hard to tell what he's more taken aback by -- Michael's behavior, or the possibility that he underestimated Michael. T-Bag looks behind him, and there's Linc, looking like he'd like to strangle T-Bag with his own large intestine. Abruzzi's looking obliquely pleased. T-Bag gasps that they do understand each other.
So now that we've resolved this episode's dilemma, it's time to introduce week's problem. Bellick saunters in past Sucre (who, once again, did not warn anyone), waltzes to the middle of where the giant hole is in the floor, and stands on the carpet while he calls Abruzzi out for a conversation. Michael is having a quiet kind of freak-out while he waits for the inevitable plunge -- but it never happens. Bellick and Abruzzi walk out. Sucre closes the door behind them, leaving the death row inmate and his buddies to continue working unsupervised.
Linc asks why Bellick didn't fall through, and Michael hunkers down to answer that very same question. He peels back the magical sound-damping cloth...and there's Bellick's plaque covering the hole. Michael looks back at Sucre, who gives him a slight smile and a quick wink. With his left eye. I can bring you this vital detail since I rewound and watched that little moment a few times. If anyone asks, I was not giggling like a seventh-grader with a serious crush. No, I was not! Michael smiles.
Meet the developing complication called "Tweener doesn't have the brains to figure out why T-Bag's not dogging him anymore." As Michael watches this, he's obliquely pleased. He turns around and sees Linc smiling faintly in understanding of what Michael's trying to do: despite telling Sara "that man" died, he's trying to revive him.
And meet week's problem: Team Escarpara's off PI because One-Eyed Gus came through with Bellick's monthly payoff. The team watches the PI crew march toward St. Louis. All of them are wondering if they'll find the hole. We finish the episode watching Michael, who's got an expression like, Can't ONE flippin' part of this plan go right? ONE? Is that so much to ask? Apparently so.