"You're going." It wasn't a question and the tone with which Sara said it left very little room for negotiation. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she stood over him.
"I can't. Not yet." The determination in his eyes made it clear that he wouldn't back down, not this time.
"Michael." Sara gritted her teeth. "If you don't go for surgery today, you could DIE. And all of this," she waved her hands around the warehouse "will have been for nothing. So please, just go."
Michael stood up, levelling his gaze with Sara's, pleading with her to understand. "Sara, I can't go yet. I need to finish what I started."
"It will have to wait a few days while you recover. We're going." With that, Sara grabbed her keys from the table and turned to leave but Michael caught her wrist, stopping her. She tried to release her hand from his grasp but he held tight.
"Sara, please look at me." When she didnt, he squeezed her wrist and whispered "Please."
She looked up, frustration evident in her expression. "Michael, we have to go."
He shook his head. "I can't go." She started to cut him off but he continued. "Sara, this is bigger than me, than all of us. I can't jeopardize all of this because I'm sick. I need to be here with everyone else so we can finish this and be free."
"What good is freedom going to do if you're dead?" Sara snapped. "Michael, you need to stop worrying about everyone else and just worry about yourself for once! Please, just one time, stop trying to take care of everyone else and just let us take care of you." Although she had kept her voice level, tears had sprung into her eyes and she angrily wiped them away.
"Sara." Michael's gaze was full of concern as he cupped her cheek in his palm. "I'm sorry."
Sara shook her head. "I don't need an apology, Michael. I need you to go to the hospital."
Michael closed his eyes for a few seconds, fighting an internal battle. He knew that he was hurting her, and it killed him to know that he was. But he couldn't give her what she wanted, not when the stakes were so high.
"But I am sorry. I'm sorry that I'm putting you through this, and I'm sorry that I can't help you. I know that you want me to go for surgery but, if I go, and something bad happens to any of you while I'm there, then how am I going to live with myself?"
"And if you go and something bad happens to you, how are we going to forgive ourselves? You've done so much, Michael. So much. But we need you to do this. The best place for you right now is at the hospital, not running around being chased by Company agents."
Michael sighed. "Sara, I'm not going. I know you won't agree with my choice but I hope that you can understand it."
"Well, I can't." Sara said, shaking her head as she ripped her arm from his hold. "Damn it, Michael. Why do you have to make this so difficult?!" She closed her eyes and held her head, trying so hard to get a hold of herself but she was too far gone. She turned around and hurried out of the warehouse, ignoring Michael's pleas to come back. She needed to get out of there.
"Can I get a Bourbon neat."
Sitting on a stool at some seedy bar near the warehouse, Sara couldn't help the feeling of shame and dread that enveloped her. The thought of taking that drink and ruining all the hard work she had done to get a handle on her life almost stopped her from ordering the drink. But, the despair at the very real possibility of losing Michael was much stronger than the shame and she reached for the glass of amber liquid, lifting it to her lips.
"Be the change you want to see in the world."
The words flashed into her mind and she stopped, moving the glass away from her lips and towards her eyes, staring at the liquid in the round glass. She could drink it and feel the temporary release from her emotions that she craved so badly or she could put the drink down, walk out of here and pretend this never happened. Both options tempted her but right now, the first was much more appealing. So, once more, she lifted the glass to her lips.
Again, she stopped.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, she put the full glass back on counter, and then she leaned her head on the counter, the cool surface pressing against her cheek. She stared at the glass and it mocked her, the very picture of temptation.
"Are you alright?"
Sara lifted her head to look at the bartender, an older woman with graying hair. She looked at her with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
Sara shook her head. "No. But I really don't want to talk about it."
The older woman nodded. "I'll leave you to it then." She started to turn to her next customer but then turned back. "Honey, are you sure you want to do that?" she gestured towards the glass of amber liquid.
Sara looked at it for a moment, and thought about how badly she really did want it, or at least the comforting escape it would offer her, if only temporary. She was about to respond when a voice behind her spoke first.
"Please don't."
Sara placed her head back on the table, closing her eyes as she heard someone take a seat next to her.
"Please, go away." she muttered.
"Sara, please don't do this. You're stronger than that."
Anger flashed through her and she lifted her head to look him dead in the eyes. "Am I? Huh Michael? Am I really? Next you'll tell me you're strong enough to handle your tumour without getting help!" She stood up and reached for the glass but Michael stopped her, pushing it away.
"Sara, you don't want to do this."
"You don't know what I want." she shouted, not caring about the people that may be watching them.
"Please Sara, let's go home and talk about this. We can figure it out, we always do."
"Miss, is this man giving you a problem?" the bartender asked, glaring pointedly at Michael.
Sara looked at her and shook her head. "It's okay. I can take care of myself." Standing up, she made her way into the ladies washroom, hoping that Michael would have the decency not to follow her.
"Sir, it's none of my business but I think you should leave her alone." the gray-haired bartender said.
Michael shook his head, miserable. "I can't. She's been sober for eighteen months and I'm the reason she felt the need to be here."
"She needs to make her own decisions." the bartender replied, turning to the next customer.. "But I guess it doesn't hurt to have someone to support you."
Michael put his head in his hands, wishing Sara would come out and talk to him. He knew he was the reason for her pain and it killed him to know that, but he couldn't give her what he wanted, not when they all had so much to lose.
His ringing cell phone interrupted his thoughts and, looking at the called I.D., he saw it was Lincoln.
"Yeah, Linc?"
"Where are you, man? Roland's found some stuff that we need you to see."
Michael sighed. "I messed up, Linc."
"What happened?" Lincoln's voice immediately turned to that of brotherly concern and over-protectiveness and Michael could picture his brother standing in the warehouse, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous habit.
"Sara's not coping too well with the fact that I can't go for surgery."
Now Lincoln's expression changed to anger. "Just go for the damn surgery, you idiot. You need it."
Michael sighed. "It's not that simple, Linc."
"Look Michael, I know what you're going to say, and I've heard it enough times but, if not for yourself, do it for Sara. She loves you, and she's given up her entire life for us. Don't make it worse."
Michael groaned. He knew his brother and Sara had a point but he still couldn't bear it if anything happened to any of them while he was gone. Why couldn't they understand that he needed to be there?!
"Linc, I gotta go."
"Michael, just go for surgery. We'll be fine, I promise."
Michael sighed, shutting the phone. He looked at his watch to see that it had been 30 minutes since Sara had stormed into the bathroom and he decided that he should check on her. Walking to the door, he knocked, feeling a sense of deja vu. It appeared following her into bathrooms was just a part of their relationship.
Having heard no answer from the other side of the door, Michael opened it slowly, calling Sara's name again. She was sitting on the counter, just like last time, except now their were tears streaming down her face. He walked towards her, stopping a few feet away, not wanting to enter her personal space.
"Are you okay?"
Sara laughed, leaning her head back against the mirrors. "I am the farthest thing from okay right now."
"Sara, I'm sorry."
"Please, stop apologizing. I know that you're sorry. What I need to know is if that you'll go for your surgery."
Michael sighed, looking at the ground. "Sara, if I go for that surgery, how can you make sure nothing bad will happen while I'm gone."
"Honestly, Michael? I can't, okay? I don't know what's going to happen if you go for surgery. But, I can assure you that you won't be any help to anyone if you're lying on the warehouse floor, unconscious. And you're sure as hell not going to be any help to anyone if that tumour spreads." The tears were flowing freely down her cheeks and she placed her head in her hands, not able to look at Michael as she cried.
Michael stepped closer to her and she didn't move away so he continued until he was standing beside her. "Sara..."
"Please don't try and make me feel better. The only thing you can do right now is get the surgery."
Michael paused, closing his eyes before replying. "Okay."
Sara looked up at him, surprised. "Okay?"
Michael nodded. "Okay. I'll get the surgery."
Sara stared at him, not completely grasping his words. "You...you will?"
Michael nodded. "I will. I can't see you like this, and you have a point. If I don't go today, I might die and we might still not end up taking down the Company. But if I go for the surgery, there`s a change that something could go wrong, but there`s also a chance that thing`s will be fine and we`ll take down the Company and be free." He smiled as he spoke the next part. And then maybe we can start our own life. Together."
Sara smiled up at him and reached for him, cupping his face in her hands. "I love you so much."
Michael leaned down and kissed her. "I love you too. Come on, let's get back to the warehouse."
Sara lifted herself from the counter and Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they stepped out of the bathroom, thanked the bartender, and headed back to their temporary home.