"Hello, Sara," he says as she hands him the file. "Long time no see."
She doesn't answer; her face remains its cool, unbreakable mask of indifference, and any sign that she hears him is the small, imperceptible nod in his direction.
"How you been?" he presses as she pulls away from her hug with Scofield, because he wants to talk to her, and that includes her actually answering.
She gives him a brief smile, arm still wrapped halfway around Scofield's waist, holding onto him in a way that makes Paul's temples pound. "Just great, Kellerman, thanks. You?"
"Oh, you know. Great too. Busy saving the world, bringing down the Company. That kind of thing."
Burrows mutters some sarcastic comment that Paul chooses to ignore the moment he sees her smile, genuinely this time.
And maybe it's not him; maybe it's Burrows's reply, more than probable it's Scofield's hold on her, but it manages to bring him back to cool days spent on the steps of the church, eating blueberry pie, and being normal. Talking, watching the her eyes crinkle from something he said that made her laugh – he misses that sometimes. Misses the premise of being a normal citizen with a normal woman friend, just as alone.
"I heard about what happened in Panama," he says, because he just has to, and watches the smile drop and something else touch her eyes.
Scofield frowns, but she's the one to answer, cutting her overprotective boyfriend off. "So?"
"I'm sorry. I would've helped you, but I didn't know."
The wariness is back in her face. She doesn't believe him, about anything. "Right."
He clears his throat and changes the subject to Bagwell, and as they're all about to leave, he grabs her arm gently and asks, "Please? A word?"
"You sure?" Scofield says when she doesn't move, and she nods back at him.
"Yeah, sure. I'll catch up with you later."
Paul looks away when he gives her one last peck on the lips, and once everyone's gone, he lets out a breath and smiles at her.
"Well, he sure does love you, huh?"
"What of it, Kellerman?"
She leans against the table, arms draped heavily, protectively, across her abdomen. He glances down at her stomach, and his heart aches a little when he says, "I hear you're pregnant. Congratulations."
There's a ghost of a smile on her lips, and he knows immediately that she means that one. "Thanks."
"I bet you two must be so…excited?" He says that like a question, because he can't begin to comprehend how the promise of taking care of a noisy human being for the next twenty years can bring anyone happiness. His parents sure didn't like the idea.
She laughs, and he figures she saw the look on his face. "It's a little scary, but it's not that bad. I hope."
"You could always get rid of him, you know. Give him up for adoption, and I'd clear your record so no one thought you were a bad person."
"You would do that for me?"
"Totally," he answers easily, quickly, and again he thinks of NA meetings, and how he'd become an addict, if just to be able to be Lance.
"Oh, that's just hilarious." She rolls her eyes, but he smirks, knowing she's probably more amused than she's supposed to be.
"I'm serious. I get the fear of becoming a parent, and from what I remember, it's pretty fucking terrible."
She looks curious. "You've got kids?"
He pulls a face at her. "God, no. But after I slept with a girl for the first time, I thought I got her pregnant. Turns out a condom's much more efficient than that."
"So you don't want kids?"
"No way. Do I look like parent material?"
"I wouldn't know. I don't know much about you." Her lower lip catches in between her teeth, her eyes narrowing fractionally. There's the smallest hint of rebuke in her voice, which he isn't surprised that's there, but that manages to scratch anyway, just a bit. "I knew more about Lance though."
And there it is – the thing he's been dreading to acknowledge but that's been floating around them in blurry films, a lot like her head back in that tub what feels like a lifetime ago. Somehow he's grateful she's brought it up. He couldn't think of any way of doing that without seeming like a total ass.
"Ah." He tucks his hands in the pockets of his trousers, feeling awkward, and shakes his head. "About that. We never properly got that sorted out, don't you think?"
"What's to sort out? You tried to kill me, I tried to kill you, and you helped us twice. That's all it was."
He hates the bitterness of her response, and while he wouldn't have minded that any other time, from anyone else, he really wantsto sort it out.
"I guess that's probably true." He knows that's true. "But I want to apologize, seeing as I never got the chance to."
She raises an eyebrow, waiting, and he wonders why he didn't think it'd be so damn hard. He knows what he wants to say, but it seems that no words can evenly sort out what he means. He tries anyway.
"I—" He draws in a steadying breath. "I did what I had to do, for the Company. At first, it was just a mission. I was supposed to kill you, get Michael and Lincoln, and end it all. Then it just…changed. I did care for you, Sara, and if I could go back and just change it all – let you go, I would. Hell, if I could go back and stop Kim and Krantz, I would. If I could actually be Lance the addict, your friend, I would. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier."
"What's your point?"
He takes one more look at her and realizes she's not angry – just tired, sick of it all, and underneath, happy. Whether or not this topic upsets her in any way, she's not letting it show, and no matter what he says, she won't change her mind. About either things.
He smiles and extends his hand, knowing he's probably ridiculous. She doesn't take it, but when he says, "I'm sorry. About everything bad I did to you. I don't regret meeting you, though, and helping you all," she nods back, acknowledging his apology.
"Congratulations again," he tells her, turning to her where she's seconds away from leaving his life forever, hand clenched around the doorknob. "I'm happy for you both."
Her smile's a bit distracted and a bit forced, but he pretends not to notice. Like she pretends not to notice his little lie from before. "Thanks."
He hesitates; then, "If you want to go out sometime, for some blueberry pie or something? You know, as friends. I can pretend to be Lance for a while or something."
And even though she says she'd love to, he doesn't believe her.
Forgiving him is as far as she'll go, and he knows it all too well when she utters his name – Paul, not Kellerman – for the first time since she interrupted him in that church, the syllable sounding too foreign on her lips. It's her first time, and her last time.
And he's okay with it.