“Michael Scofield gave me somethin’ I never had,” he whispered to the empty room. “A future.”
Later, at his motel, he watched the news report of Poseidon’s arrest. Then, very calmly, he opened a drawer and pulled out a small, worn photograph—a boy, maybe seven, with the same sharp eyes and dark hair.
Michael, needing a monster to catch a monster, gave T-Bag the one thing he’d never had—a legal second chance. Not forgiveness. Not friendship. Just a key to a door that wasn’t a cell.