Dr. Sara comes rolling up in her car -- oh, thank goodness, she's been reunited with her purse -- just as Michael's cleaning out the trunk of his beater. Michael scoots over to the car. Dr. Sara does not cackle lasciviously and say, "Need a ride, sweet cheeks?" But wouldn't it be awesome if she did? America's un-fun un-couple takes off.
Back in Kansas, the Bozo Fetts have just gotten $5 million richer. As Bellick hefts the duffel bag to a nearby counter so he can confirm that it's filled with 1970s money, Geary whips out the meat-tenderizing mallet they had recently used on T-Bag. Bellick opens the bag and says, "Ain't that the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Geary doesn't think so. He thinks the sight of Bellick collapsing after he's hit the other Bozo Fett with the mallet is probably the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. But the cash is a very close second. As he collects a few scattered bundles of cash, Geary snarls at Bellick's prone bulk, "Next time, you pick through the crap." And he's off... until he runs into whichever escaped Team Escarpara member will take the money off his hands. My money's on Haywire.
And then we bounce back to the land of enchantment. Dr. Sara's disguised herself by putting on a baseball cap, and she runs into a local mini-mart to stock up on everything the well-equipped fugitive needs. For those of you planning to go on the lam, that would include: first-aid kits, disposable phones, and toothbrushes. Disappointingly, that list does not include chocolate, birth control, or US Weekly. See what I mean about being America's un-fun un-couple? We find out that Dr. Sara's checked them into the local no-tell motel. Insert your own comment about the fit between the people and the venue to which they are repairing. The two walk toward the hotel. Dr. Sara asks if Michael wants his hat back. He doesn't answer; perhaps he thinks that so long as she has his hat, they're going steady. At least, they're going steady in his head.
She then dresses his wounds in what appears to be the most upscale no-tell motel ever. Not that I have extensive experience in the kinds of venues that have four "Mr. and Mrs. Smith"s on the registry, but I've stayed at worse than the one depicted here. As Dr. Sara does her work, Michael reminds her, "I have a high tolerance for pain. You know that." Fortunately, Dr. Sara does not have a high tolerance for his lies. She clears up any lingering misconceptions about the state of Michael's blood sugar, then asks, "Michael, tell me something. Do you think there's a part of you that enjoys this?" He replies, "Peroxide in an open wound? No." Well, someone is still miffed that Dr. Sara's not exactly champing at the bit to go to Panama with him. Dr. Sara clarifies: "I mean the escaping from prison, and being on the run, and the danger, and the fear, and the rush, and all that. It feels to me like chasing a high. And I know what that's like. And I should know better." From the depths of the couch, the husband cackles, "I wish I could quit you, Michael Scofield!"