نخستین 200 خط.
LINCOLN: I didn't kill that man, Michael.
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
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.
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?
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.
At 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... 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, 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 makes.
(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. Sure, man. Yeah.
Okay. 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.
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