She was sleeping again.
Legs slightly folded as she lay on her side, an arm across her stomach and the other one – the one that ended with a steel bracelet and the chain binding them together – stretched forward, the back of her hand resting against the cool cement floor.
It hadn't ever occurred to Kellerman before, how obscene it was to watch a woman sleep.
Delicate lids and long lashes gave her face such a girlish look, and the oddly abandoned position of her body, the few auburn locks plastered to her cheek and forehead. It was transgressive, like seeing her naked, like reading her thoughts.
Are they pleasant dreams we're having, beautiful?
Maybe he'd tease her about it later, but he couldn't think of it, right now, the impression of being a voyeuristic bastard was too strong, making him feel very hot in his clothes.
At some point, a kind of sigh slipped past Sara's parted lips, sending a bolt of nervous excitement to Kellerman's chest. My God, he thought, it's like being a teenager caught masturbating. The more time they passed shackled to one another in that small dingy room, the less sure he was of what exactly he wanted her for. "Who cares," he muttered to himself, not loud enough for her to hear him in her near-awake state. "Let's call her my guilty pleasure."
She started stirring next to him, rolling a few involuntary inches closer before blinking her eyes open and drawing back. There was no time wasted before her eyes regained that blend of scorn and caution. Kellerman nearly started thinking the lovely and peaceful sleeping woman he'd watched for maybe an hour and a half had been a dream herself.
"Had a nice nap?" He inquired.
"Any break from our current situation is an improvement."
"If you'd like to indulge in another few hours of sleep, Sara, I won't be the one to stop you."
"I think I'd rather hear about that plan you told me about." She straightened up a bit, extraordinarily careful not to move the hand that was handcuffed to him. As though the body part were infected with a most repellent and contagious disease.
"Well, as I said, I'm still working on the details."
"Right. Like getting out of this room."
"Which is not the most difficult part, I think. Only the more problematic."
"Yes, that's one word for it."
"See," he resumed, "I've been trying to estimate what kind of boat this is. We've only got this room to go on and a glimpse of the corridor, but I'm starting to get a feel of how big it is. If Caroline Reynolds did put us here – and I'm betting my money she did – then I guess I can sort it out according to her habits."
He was slightly surprised that Sara sighed exasperatedly at him. "What does it matter, guessing what sort of boat this is?"
"Well, for starters, there's the location of the rescue boats." He grinned. " You thought we were going to escape swimming?"
"No. Shut up."
Actually, what Sara was thinking was that by now, she might have found a way to contact Michael or at least get rid of Kellerman. She'd done pretty good at the swimming lessons her dad used to buy her and it was the middle of July so she thought, if it came down to throwing herself overboard or enduring another interrogation, yeah, she'd take her chances with the ocean. Rescue boats weren't a completely stupid idea either.
"So, if I get this straight," she went on, "the plan is to reach the rescue boats, which you might be able to locate?"
"No, I know where they'll be. I'm thinking, if I'm right about the boat, I'll know where to go and to look, too, so we won't be wasting time searching through dozens of corridors. So basically, when we get our opportunity –"
He was going to get into details, talk about how they'd need to run without waiting for a second, trusting nothing but his memory to know exactly which turns they'd have to make until they'd reach the deck, but it occurred to him it'd be a waste of breath. It was best that she still needed him, for as long as this lasted.
"You know what?" He said. "Let's not go through it all. When the time comes, you'll follow my lead."
A most expected angry red spread to her cheeks. "I have to trust you, Kellerman, is that it?"
"Well, seeing I can't very well sketch you a blueprint of that boat, I suppose you'll have to take my word for it."
"Is that the only option?"
"I'm sorry I didn't think of tattooing it on my chest." He smirked at her. "I'm no Michael Scofield."
"No, that, you're not."
Kellerman grew quiet at her retort. It occurred to Sara it wasn't the safest sort of quiet.
Spending so much time with Paul Kellerman, she'd come to realize there were several kinds. There were those awkward pauses, when she ignored him and he stared at her with that odd way of his; then angry sort, when he annoyed her and she unsettled him, and finally, there was what came after both of those, after they'd ignored each other, after she'd grown annoyed and blurted something mean or demeaning – then he would just look at her with those cold blue eyes, and the third kind of silence would set. The icy one.
She cleared her throat. "So, hum…" Though she wouldn't flatter him by lowering her eyes, she never risked to meet his. "What are the other details you need to work on?"
Her speaking first came down to asking for truce, Kellerman decided. He wasn't sure whether she did it because she trusted his experience or because she was still afraid of him.
"There isn't much." His tone was anything but casual, his eyes still burning through her fences, her face, although half-concealed by a curtain of auburn hair, still flushed at his insisting gaze. "After getting out of this room, we'll need to be quick, there can't be any mistakes."
"Right. Once we get out."
"Trust me, Sara." He half-sighed. "This room isn't the big issue."
"It is, so long as we're locked in."
"Oh, it'll be a piece of cake, getting out of here."
Smiling, waiting for her to take the bait. She did so with a disgusted eye-roll. "All right. How are you planning to get out of here?"
He shrugged. "We'll wait by the door, and the next time an agent comes to bring us food, I'll attack him, steal his keys, and we'll scramble for the life boats."
"What?" The shock in her voice was delicious.
"Too Cro-Magnon?" He said. "I'll have to make your boyfriend give me lessons."
"That's your plan, really? What if next time it's not one agent but five?"
"Then I punch all five of them. Maybe even use you as a human mace, now wouldn't it be fun to practice that?"
"I'm serious, Paul."
"So am I, beautiful."
"For Christ's sake, would you stop call–" She swallowed back the rest of her words, deciding he enjoyed it way too much. From now on, she'd just be deaf to every pet name he'd call her, especially that one. She figured maybe if he saw he couldn't get to her anymore, he'd stop trying. Or try harder. "There are so many ways this plan couldn't work," was all she said, being sure to sound cold as ice.
Not nearly as cold as the footsteps which sounded in the hallway, barely audible through the metallic door, coming their way.
Kellerman's lips broke into a smile. It was his game-smile. "Well, I guess we're both about to find out."
