Oneshots, ideas and rejects.

Prison Break I

"—As your assigned doc, I'll also be taking care of any other physical injuries or problems you might face in here. If needed I also offer my patients a weekly conversation about any- and everything they want really as long as the topic stays somewhat relevant, since I find it crucial that they're healthy and happy in both body and mind." Scofield just nodded as Bellick opened the door to his and Sucre's cell and took off the handcuffs.

"Ayee Dr. Bertinelli!" Sucre said excitedly as he noticed the woman standing slightly to the side of their cell door. "Ready to see your girlfriend Sucre?" She asked, a smile grazing her lips at his excitement. Officer Bellick was about to cuff him when Dean shook her head smiling. "That's not necessary. He's not going to do anything stupid."

"How do you know?" Bellick asked annoyed.

"He's a free man in sixteen months if he behaves, and he just proposed to his girlfriend. He's not risking anything. Besides, I can clearly take him on if he does." Dean rolled up the sleeve on her white lab coat and showed her muscly arm. Bellick shook his head at her as he watched Sucre hold up the thinnest part of his arm for a comparison. Which was still almost twice as big. "In the end, size doesn't really matter." Dean assured the amused Sucre. "I don't question your philosophy chica."

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After his conjugal visit, Deanna and an officer Michael hadn't seen before, escorted Sucre back to their cell. Michael was expecting the inmates to yell or catcall as Deanna walked in, but the only thing he heard was the occasional 'hey doc' or things like, 'when is our next meeting?' and 'Do you have time for an extra appointment this week?' He couldn't quite figure out what made her so different from any other person who stepped foot in this prison. But the inmates all seemed to be on their best behaviour when she was around. And she gladly stopped to make conversation and answer each and everyone of their questions making the guard sigh as he had to stop as well.

"I'll see you next week for our scheduled conversation Sucre. In the meantime, be a sweetheart and show Scofield the ropes yea?" She asked nicely. Sucre nodded his head. "Will do. Thanks for the flower, my girl loved it."

"Good. Special occasions unlocks special treatment, congratulations with the engagement. And Scofield. Please do try not to show up in my office before your next insulin shot." Michael huffed amused at her. "I'll try not to get myself into any trouble."

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"Not getting into any trouble huh? It's only been a day and I hear you're already flirting with the warden." Dean sighed as she prepared the insulin with shaking hands.

"I'm helping him build a gift for his wife." Michael said shrugging."Build?" Dean asked interestedly as she carefully picked up the syringe.

"A small scale model of the Taj Mahal for their fortieth anniversary." Michael revealed. Dean nodded absent-mindedly. "Cute; Breathe in." Michael did as told and Dean quickly stuck in the syringe with same accuracy and steady hands as earlier.

"You went to Loyola right?" She asked as she pulled the syringe back out and quickly threw it to the table exactly as she did earlier. "You've been checking up on me." Michael stated giving her one of his charming half smiles.

"I like to get to know my patients." Dean said shrugging at his accusation. "–I went to Northwestern, graduated a year after you did." She then added writing something down in his file.

"Maybe we've met before. You know, drunk, out at a bar somewhere." Michael began making Dean chuckle to herself. "I would have remembered." She stated still concentrating on his file.

"That a compliment?" Michael asked, a mischievous look in his eyes.
Dean shook her head chuckling a little louder. "It really isn't." Michael smiled at the ground before his eyes drifted up to her once again, watching as her eyebrows furrowed together in deep thought and she tapped the pen against her lip. A habit; he noted.

While he'd been occupied studying her, she'd been occupied studying his blood sugar levels in the file. She let out a confused "Hm.."

"What?"

"Your blood glucose is at fifteen milligrams per deciliter." She stated finally looking up at him. "So?" He asked, those hooded calculating eyes watching her.

Dean sighed, "That's hypoglycemic. Your body's reacting to the insulin like you're not a diabetic. Are you sure it's Type 1 Diabetes you've got?" She asked him puzzled.

Michael looked at her as she began fiddling with his file again, flipping through the pages. "Ever since I was a kid." He lied.

"You're not experiencing any tingling sensations, cold sweats, anything?"

Michael shook his head, just as the phone rang. Dean quickly got up and answered it. Miming a 'sorry' to Michael before turning her back to him.

"Infirmary.." Dean answered simply. Michael listened to her side of the conversation as he walked to the window.
"Yes this is Dr. Bertinelli, why?" Her voice was cold now and didn't carry a single ounce of that kindness she spoke with when addressing the inmates.

Michael looked out of the window at a wire that went from just outside the infirmary window all the way across to the prison wall. "No, it's been years since I cut ties with that man. Listen, the only thing we share is a name, now don't call my work phone again detective or we're gonna have a problem." Michael looked down at his hand only to find it shaking, he quickly grabbed it to make it stop as Dean hang up the phone and took a deep breath before turning back around.

"I'd like to run some tests next time you're in. The last thing I want is to be administering insulin to a man who doesn't need it." Dean said, her eyes soft and her voice back to its normal tone. Michael nodded understandingly, "Yeah. Sure." He would just have to figure something out before then.

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