Title: Sins of our Fathers
Characters: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Frank Tancredi, Bruce Bennet, OC
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Word Count: approx. 5000 words
Rating: R for some language
Chapter: 9
Genre: Romance, Family, General, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, partly AU

Summary: A year since Sara's trial for aiding and abbeting, going differently than in canon. Frank Tancredi didn't die at the hands of the company. Although Sara, Michael, Lincoln and LJ have a content and happy life, there is one thing troubling their existence – the broken relationship between a father with his estranged daughter. Will Michael find a way to save what's left of their relationship?

A/N: Okay, so I know it's been an inexcusable long time since my last update on this story, but honestly, I love it and I hope there are still people left who like and read this story too.:) *hugs you all* Also, thank you dear Ashley, for the wonderful beta!

Chapter 9 – Betrayal of trust

Michael entered the living room a couple of minutes later, freshened and less formally dressed, his suit jacket and tie absent from his otherwise impeccable appearance. Being the first to stretch out his hand, he greeted Sara's father warmly.

"It's nice to see you, Governor." Michael said with a genuine yet cautious smile. Frank shook his hand firmly, but stayed a little more reserved in his greeting.

After an awkward moment, they moved into the kitchen to sit around the dinning table, which due to the lack of space led to another uneasy moment for the group. Normally, the kitchen could easily fit two or three people, and when LJ and Lincoln came for visit, they often dined in the living room anyways. But five people were simply too many and although they were completely crammed in the small space, nobody dared to complain. After some shuffling, elbowing and screeching of chairs against the floor, they all finally managed to sit down quite comfortably.

While Sara served the lasagna, Frank was carefully eyeing Michael in silence, making the younger man squirm under his scrutinizing look.

"So, I take it the interview didn't go that well," started Frank bluntly, causing Michael to choke on his very first bite of Sara's delicious lasagna. Putting down the fork carefully, he lifted his head, directing his gaze at Frank, despite addressing the whole table.

"That's correct, sir. Though I dare say the interview went really well up until the point when I was recognized for my past, needless to say that was the exact moment the company suddenly realized the offered position had already been filled," he said politely. Lincoln snorted.

"I bet they drooled over your resume until they made the connection, right? I know people like that only too well. People unable to believe somebody like you was even applying to their miserable company, yet wanting your services still." said Lincoln disgustedly. Frank couldn't hold his curiosity at Lincoln's words, although he loaded his voice with a fair amount of doubt.

"What makes you think so, Mr. Burrows?"

"What makes me know so, Governor," Lincoln had problems squeezing the title through his lips without actually gritting his teeth, "…is that when you apply for a rather low position in a structural company, and your name is assigned as the leading engineer on the two most recent skyscrapers of Chicago, any structural company would be out of their mind not to want to employ you."

Frank Tancredi looked impressed, albeit still rather doubtful. Turning to Michael, he asked; "Which two did you help built, Mr. Scofield?"

"Call me Michael, please," said Michael with a warm smile, watching Frank nod. "And I worked on the blueprints of the new building for the East Memorial Bank and the West-Pacific FYNAC."

Sara felt absolutely smug to see Frank unable to hide how very impressed he was by this fact. "Michael even received several awards for his work," she said proudly, gracing Michael with a radiate smile.

"Did he?" asked Frank, displeased by the warm looks passing between his daughter and her boyfriend. "Now, how come a man like you cannot find a decent job then, Michael?" he asked, his eyebrows rising in mock innocence, while he put a mouthful of lasagna into his mouth.

Take aback Sara almost dropped the glass of water she was bringing to her mouth. Darting a quick glance at Michael, she saw his jaw clench and his eyes firmly trained upon his plate. Her own temper and pulse spiked with anger.

"Bad luck, probably?" Michael offered, rising his eyes to meet those of Sara's father challengingly. He recognized Franks question for what it was immediately, supercilious criticism.

"Not from what I've heard," continued Frank casually, enjoying his meal at last. Now this was exactly the direction he wished the conversation to flow. Used to being the superior one in every meeting or debate, Frank didn't even notice his daughter's cheeks flaming over his feeling of smugness.

"And what exactly have you heard, dad?" asked Sara, surprising everybody at the table by the harshness of her tone.

"Well," Frank wiped his mouth with the napkin before continuing, "I was told that your boyfriend's recent job loss was caused by 'insubordination' issues. Was it not, Michael?" Frank eyed Michael challengingly.

"That's the official version, yes," replied Michael evenly, his eyes meeting Franks. He was extraordinary polite and submissive even in his behavior, much to Sara's dislike. Her father had no right to come to their home and talk like that to the man she chose to love and live with, not to the man who saved her life, on more than just one occasion. Before she had the chance to intervene, however, it was LJ who spoke.

"Uncle Mike didn't do anything wrong, he did everything he was ordered! He only refused to play a puppet for those two…" he searched for the right word, "…Nazis who were ordering him around!"

"Charming. Like the father, like the son," uttered Frank dryly under his nose.

"Hey, watch your mouth!" grumbled Lincoln, never minding Michael's glare to stop. "You come in here like you are the only one who cares for your daughter, judging us and our family, they way we live. Now I might not be the best father walking the face of earth, but when my kid's life was at stake, I did everything I could to help him. You, on the other hand, left your daughter for the wolves, sending her away to serve years and rot in a maximum security prison, whereas my brother did everything to get her out, to help her, to…"

"That's enough, Lincoln, thank you," cut in Michael's sharp voice, his eyes sending daggers in his brother's direction. Even before the visit, he warned his older brother numerous time that this visit might not be the most pleasant one, asking - demanding - him to be polite, patient and temperate. This was not what they've agreed upon.

"No Michael, I won't shut up! Just look at you, sitting here like a rain-whipped chicken, gulping down each and every insult and judgment this man throws your way, letting you know with each new-drawn breath that you are in no case worthy of his daughter! Why the hell don't you try to as much as defend yourself?!"

"That's enough." Michael cut in quietly, yet his tone was more menacing than anything else Lincoln has ever heard before. He followed Michael gaze to Sara, who was sitting in the corner quietly, sheet-white and with slightly trembling hands restlessly twisting on the table.

"Sorry Sara, I didn't mean to flip out like that," mumbled Lincoln his genuine apology, putting one of his large hands on her shoulder.

"Actually, there are some really interesting things you've just said, Lincoln." She turned to face her father. "Why didn't you come to my trial, dad?" asked Sara sharply, her voice cutting through the air like a piece of broken glass. "Why didn't you visit me at the hospital? Why didn't you care what would happen to me once it was clear I was going to be released from prison?"

The room fell silent, Lincoln's previous words momentarily forgotten by the new unanswered questions. All eyes were now directed at Frank, who was uncomfortably squirming in his seat under the scrutinizing gaze of his daughter.

"You know why, Sara," he said unconvincingly at last.

"No, I don't," she replied with contempt and disgust over her father's cowardice which caused her voice to tremble with anger. "See, dad, I wanted this dinner to be as pleasant as possible, and I did everything in my might to accomplish that, all solely on my own goodwill. I wanted to show you how good my life has become, for you to get to know and to see for yourself what kind, amazing and wonderful men Michael, Lincoln and LJ are. But you came here just to criticize, accuse and judge. As you wish, we will play this your way then."

"Sara…" Michael tried to calm her down softly, covering her hand with his own, but she flinched away from his touch, she was far too enraged to accept anybody's comfort.

"You wanted to know, why a man like Michael cannot find decent work. Well here's why. He left his former work against his superior's orders because I asked him to! I hated the idea of going to Bruce's birthday party on my own and meeting you alone, without Michael's support. So he came to the party, just for me, and then, after we returned home he didn't sleep all night in order to finish the work he needed done by morning. And because Michael is such a reliable employee he did finish on time, but still, those two… Nazis - as LJ put it quite skillfully - fired him anyway. He's been frantically looking for a job ever since, but every single time he is denied for being the master-planner of the Fox River Eight, which is funny, thinking about it, because nobody seems to recognize Michael for the main thing he accomplished, namely to actually save an innocent man's life," she stopped for a second, catching her breath. Everybody seemed too startled to interfere with her speech, Frank the most. "…so in fact, Michael did what was supposed to be your job! Because, admit it, instead of reviewing Lincoln's case, you were too absorbed in daydreaming about becoming the vice-president to Caroline Reynolds!"

In response there was only silence from the stunned group. Sara stood up and taking her full plate of barely touched lasagna, she tossed it angrily into the sink. She braced herself on the kitchen sink with her back facing the four men.

"What I don't understand, is why you are here now, dad. You've already humiliated me and my way of life numerous times. You've gave up on me, officially as well as privately, you let me go to prison without a blink of an eye and didn't care to visit even when I had my gut sliced open by another inmate. Now you come back, asking me for another chance, only to come to my house, to my home, mocking and insulting everything and everyone you come across. I might have come to terms with that years ago, but I won't let you turn Michael or his family into your whipping boys, only so you can feel better about yourself. So, I am asking you once again; what do you want from me, dad?"

There was a deadly silence in the room. Michael's face was impassive, unreadable, yet his body ached to comfort the woman he loved while she stood in pain in front of him. Lincoln looked - to Michael's dislike - rather smug, nearly amused, whereas LJ looked like a pitiful deer caught in headlights.

Nobody moved for a couple of moments, only Sara turned on her spot to finally face her four men, looking straight into her father's eyes for a reaction, a reply, an explanation. She was almost sure her father would get up from his seat and leave any second now, storming out of the apartment, angry and insulted, never to be seen again. To her surprise, she was met with his grey eyes, the warmest and softest she has ever seen them in her life.

"You're right, Sara. And I'm sorry," uttered Frank at last, stumbling over his words.

At first she was certain she heard wrong. Her father never, ever, apologized, it was against his very nature to do such a – in his eyes - weak thing. Still disbelieving, Sara thoughts she might as well use the situation for the best, there was not much to loose now anyway.

"I am not the one you should be apologizing to," she said firmly, pushing further. Despite his slight reluctance, Frank turned to the rest of the people present.

"Michael, and…errr…Mr. Burrows too, I'm sorry for my earlier behavior," it was clear he was barely able to squeeze the words through his teeth without the urge to vomit, but the sheer fact he did, left Sara speechless. She slowly returned to the table, sitting down again. Both, Michael as well as Lincoln nodded to Frank in acceptance. Under the table, Michael took Sara's violently trembling hand in his, drawing soothing patterns over her skin. His heart ached when he felt her squeeze back tightly.

Silence once again stretched through the room uncomfortably.

"Can we have dessert now?" asked LJ unexpectedly, luring a gentle smile from Sara.

"Sure LJ. But let's move to the living room then. Coffee anyone?"

The three older men agreed on coffee before Frank excused himself from the table to visit the bathroom while Sara prepared the cake and coffee.

Lincoln crossed the room in two quick strides, enveloping Sara in a bear hug.

"Wow Sara, you did great!" he whispered in her ear, grinning at her like mad. She returned the smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She was exhausted and more than a little confused and shaken up. She had stood up against her father several times in her life, but never like this. Moreover, she never actually won an argument. She didn't know what to think, how to behave, or what to do with her unexpected victory.

Deep in thought, she didn't notice she's stopped in the middle of her actions, registering the big knife in her hand only when somebody gently took it from her hand.

"Here, let me," offered Michael, taking the knife and starting to cut the cake into a few exact square pieces. When she didn't reply, he bent his head to stare into her face in concern, trying to catch her eye. After a couple moments, she finally focused on his face, her expression one of utmost panic and horror.

"What the hell am I doing, Michael?" she asked, distress about her actions seeping from her every word.

"You're standing up to your father Sara, at last," he offered gently, abandoning the cake and bringing his arms around her back, pulling her close. His lips brushed against her temple, his heart skipping a beat when he felt her melt against him with her face hiding in his neck.

"This will never work," she whispered, sounding utterly lost, and Michael felt his insides quiver with pain for her.

"Let's wait and see, shall we?" She gave a small, uncertain nod.

~ooOoo~~ooOoo~~ooOoo~~ooOoo~~ooOoo~~ooOoo~~ooOoo~~ooOoo~~ooOoo~

Sara served the cake and coffee in the living room, waiting for Frank, who took quite some time in the bathroom. If she had to guess, Sara would say he was as shaken up and in need of calming down as much as she'd been. When he reappeared however, he looked calm and composed, albeit a little sheepish.

He sat down next to LJ, thanking his daughter as she passed along the cake. After a couple moments of silence, the group began to make small talk which eventually turned to LJ's future and choice of college. Michael and Sara both teased each other lightly about which Chicago University was best. The mood had risen significantly again, growing almost content and pleasant, while Frank simply listened to the light conversation with surprising interest. Upon another of Michael's rants about the benefits of going to Loyola, Sara rolled her eyes at her father, sighing dramatically.

"Michael graduated from Loyola two years ahead of me and is convinced that it's the best University in the entire world," she said, unable to hold her smile upon Michael's scowl.

"Loyola is the best University in the entire world!" he said stubbornly, watching, out of the corner of his eye, how Frank gave an actual smile.

"I couldn't agree more with you there, Michael," the Governor said unexpectedly, causing everybody in the room except Sara to fell into shocked silence.

"Not now, dad, please!" she pleaded dramatically, yet her smile gave her away. Looking at the three confused faces, she hastened to explain. "Dad went to Loyola too and he studied law. Up until today, he thinks I chose Northwestern just to prove a point and make him mad," said Sara with a chuckle, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, because only an insane person would actually prefer Northwestern to Loyola," said Frank, sharing a knowing grin with Michael. Sara's face was one of feigned annoyance, but internally, her heart burst with emotion at the scene unfolding in front of her. Her father was actually relaxing around Michael and Lincoln, making jokes and conspiring with Michael against her. To an outsider it may have seemed like a small and insignificant moment, but to her, it was everything she had been wishing to see for years. She couldn't help when her eyes filled with unexpected moisture all of a sudden, and although she tried to turn her face away quickly, both, Michael as well as her father, noticed.

"I'm seriously thinking about studying law," said LJ enthusiastically, oblivious to the emotions currently flowing through the room. Turning to Frank, he asked the governor a question, still a bit shyly. "So, you think studying law at Loyola would be a better choice than at Northwestern, Governor?"

Frank turned his head, momentarily lost in the conversation, too overwhelmed by his daughter badly concealed sentiment. He never though this could mean so much to her.

"Err," he stuttered, thinking back about the question the boy gave him moments ago, "Yes, I truly think that studying law at Loyola is the best choice. You can see with your own eyes where it got me, right?" he winked at the boy, who looked away awkwardly. "I have to say, excellent choice, young man,' he praised the boy who flushed. Michael's and Sara's looks met over Lincoln's head and the couple exchanged a warm smile. It was nearly unbelievable; this group of people who were currently laughing and talking in their living room. Half an hour ago, it seemed like all would go to hell. It was almost too good to be true. Almost.

"I am wondering Sara, why don't you two have a bathtub in your bathroom? There is enough space and it seems like there used to be one before," said Frank contemplative, trying to further the suddenly still conversation. He finished the last of his cake, then shot a curious look at Sara and Michael.

The couple seemed to freeze. Sara recovered first. "In fact, there used to be a bathtub in the room when we moved in, but I asked Michael to remove it," she said, taking a few deep breaths. She could feel Michael quickly move to stand right behind her, his warm hand coming to rest on her shoulder and she was glad for the gesture of support.

Frank gave a puzzled look. "For heaven's sake, why would you do something like that?"

Sara squirmed in her seat, throwing an uncertain look at Michael over her shoulder. Clearing her throat, she finally answered. "Because of my PTSS, dad."

Her father gave a puzzled look. "What's that?"

"Post-traumatic stress syndrome," answered Michael and Lincoln quietly in unison.

Frank looked puzzled. "Post-traumatic stress syndrome?" he asked, "Since when do you have that?" He said in bewilderment, oblivious of how rude and tactless his question sounded. "And what does it have to do with having a bathtub in your bathroom?"

"You didn't as much as read my trial file, did you dad?" asked Sara quietly, sudden disappointment and hurt evident in her eyes. Frank squirmed in his seat, his face flushing crimson.

"Well, I was….debriefed on your file," he admitted at last.

Sara's features crumpled before she managed to quickly close up, the good mood completely gone from the room, replaced by a grim, ominous atmosphere. The only movement in the room was caused by Michael quickly circling the couch to sit right next to Sara, who looked extremely shaken by her father's indifference.

"Right," she mumbled at last, her glassy eyes burning a hole into the coffee table.

A nerve in Michael's jaw twitched. Despite everything he ever heard and thought about Sara's father, he would never think he was as ignorant and disrespectful of her as that. He took a deep breath to steady himself, but his anger was already blurring his vision.

"If you had the courtesy to read your daughter's file, Governor," he spat the word through his teeth, "you would know that the man who in the end testified in my brothers and your daughters favor, killed my nephews mother and stepfather right in front of his eyes! Then, he tried to smother my brother after causing a car accident that nearly killed him. And as if that weren't enough, after your daughter left me in Gila, he captured and…" he stumbled over his words, "…and…tortured her for information for hours before she managed to escape." Michael nearly gagged at his words, bile rising into his throat at the mere thought, a memory he only had to fabricate because he was never there in the first place to witness and help Sara.

The room fell deadly silent. Frank looked to be lost for words, genuinely shocked, his eyes two bulging saucers. It was Sara who broke the silence.

"He had me in a motel room, tied and gagged, trying to drown me in a bathtub in order to gain information from me. When he wasn't successful, he used a hot iron electrocuting me under water. Then he simple dropped me into the bathtub, leaving me there to drown for good. If not for my quick thinking and a fair portion of luck, I would be dead by now."

The whole room was completely silent, the only sound to be heard was when Sara shifted closer to Michael, nearly crawling into his waiting arms, her hands clutching to him for the much needed support after the recollection of the worst memories of her life. Frank glanced over at Michael, his mouth slightly agape. The younger man's look confirmed his daughter's words. The immense fury, pain and guilt in his face told Frank all he needed to know. He felt his stomach flip over, the coffee suddenly burning his entrails. It was like the wind has been knocked out of his airways.

"I had no idea…" Frank whispered brokenly, letting out a long painful breath. "There was nothing mentioned in your medical records…" he continued as if in a trance, trying to comprehend where all the mistakes had occurred, as well as trying to vindicate his lack of such crucial knowledge about his own beloved child.

Michael felt Sara stiffen in his embrace. "What did you say?" she asked quietly, turning to look at her father in shock. Frank shot her a confused look.

"You read my medical records!?" Sara was beyond shocked. As a doctor, she considered any medical records extremely private, sacred even. The fact that her father had the nerve to take the liberty and read her very own private files left her shaking in rage.

"How dare you? Those records are private, I could sue you for that!"

Frank seemed to stagger. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean…I didn't know how you were, I only meant to learn if you were alright…" he stammered at his words, his face red with shame at being caught literally stalking his daughter.

"And you didn't think calling your own daughter to ask her in person might have been a better idea?" asked Michael coldly, his eyes narrowed with fury on Sara's account. He could forgive Frank for almost anything in order to mend his relationship with his daughter, but this was too much even for him.

Frank didn't mind Michael's stare, his desperate focus was solely on his daughter now. "Honey please, understand, you weren't talking to me and I was worried," he tried to explain, but his apologies sounded lame even to his own ears.

"And what exactly did you manage to learn about your daughter from a bunch of papers?" asked Lincoln in contempt. Frank was quiet for a while, but felt his temper rising. He was not used to be treated like this, and it started to rub him up.

"I learned enough to know she was okay and healthy," he was still flushed. "I definitely don't remember reading anything about any post-traumatic stress syndrome."

"You didn't find it relevant to read her trial file, but you felt it necessary to read her medical records, that contain extremely private information about her body, mind and health?" asked Michael with quiet fury, his eyes narrowing, looking at the man like he saw him for the very first time. Frank couldn't help but squirm under Michael's ruthless glare.

"Well, dad, if you knew me well enough you would have known that there are certain things I don't want to appear in my medical records - any official records for that matter - for obvious reasons," added Sara coldly, sending Frank a pointed look. He wasn't able to hold her accusing gaze.

"Okay, so now, just for you and your insatiable need to control my life, here comes. For several months, I wasn't able to as much as walk alone into a bathroom without experiencing severe panic attacks, cold sweats and breakdowns. Taking a shower had been excruciatingly exhausting and painful. If I hadn't had Michael, who went with me every step of the way, negotiating, begging and gently persuading me, I wouldn't have been able to function at all." Her body gave a light tremble and she crawled into Michael's steady frame even further, enjoying the feel of his arms tightening around her. Sara knew that without him, she would never be able to tell her father what she was now disclosing to his disbelieving, horror-struck face.

Sara took a series of steadying breaths before she was able to continue. "I underwent a series of individual therapies with the best PTSS specialist in town. They aren't any records on my medical file because they were paid for directly, outside of the insurance system."

"How?" asked Frank. His question may have been insulting under different circumstances, but that was the last thing on Sara's mind right now.

"Michael and Lincoln paid for them, dad. Without a single hesitation or regret," said Sara, looking coldly at her father. "Of course, they could have tried to urge me to go through the official channels, requesting my medical insurance company to pay for the treatment, but they immediately recognized how important it was for me to stay off the records on this one. At least now, I can see my worries were justified," she added with a ruthless touch to her voice. The knowledge of her father going through her most private matters still enraged Sara beyond anything else.

"I…I don't know what to say…" mumbled Frank at last, his eyes wide with shame.

"You can start by apologizing and promising never to abuse your position to spy on your daughter and her private matters ever again," said Michael coolly.

"And you can continue by apologizing to my brother for treating him like crap," added Lincoln in a low grumble.

Before Frank could act upon any of those suggestions however, Sara had risen to her feet, mumbling something about a headache and retreating from the room, closing the bedroom door behind her with a distinct click before anybody had the chance to react. Frank got up too and shot a look in the direction his daughter had just disappeared, but Michael was quickly at his heels, stepping into his view, his posture protective and indicating it was time for the governor to leave.

Frank dragged his feet slowly to the door, and while still lost in his thoughts let Michael to see him off. The older man was visibly shaken. Turning in the door, he looked at Michael with glassy eyes. There were only the two of them now, and Frank couldn't hold his misery at bay any longer.

"I swear I didn't know…" he said to Michael feebly, his voice breaking over every syllable. He was acting so unlike the steady, commanding man Michael knew him to be, that the younger man almost took pity on him. "Despite what you may think of me right now Michael, I love my daughter very much."

"You have a strange way of showing it," said Michael coolly, yet his tone was mild. He was the last person on earth who dared to judge people, but it was hard not to judge a person who caused so much pain to the woman he loved most in this world. On the other hand thought, he had done so on many occasions himself and to this day he was still working hard to make amends, trying his best to make everything up to Sara, in all ways humanly possible.

Sighing, he looked at the miserable figure in front of him, finally taking pity on the older man. He too often wished he had the chance to change things, many things, like between him and his father for example. But he was robbed of that chance not long ago and he hated the thought of that happening to Sara as well. He really wished she could repair her relationship with her father, but this was Sara's decision, not Michael's.

"Give her time," offered Michael surprisingly gently. "She's been through a lot and you've hurt her rather badly today. Yet I still believe that the level of anger and betrayal she feels towards you merely proves how much she really cares about you. If you want to mend your relationship, you will have to be patient and try harder, much harder, to be a better father. God knows me and my father came to this truth when it was already too late, but you still have a chance to change things. Don't waste it like I did."

Frank looked at Michael, and for the very first time, there was something resembling respect shining in the older mans eyes.

"Thank you," he said, offering Michael his hand, which he took and shook firmly.

"Please tell my daughter …please…just tell her that I love her, alright?" said Frank, slightly flushed. Michael gave a nod.

"I will. Goodnight Governor."

"It's Frank, please."

"Alright. Goodnight, Frank."

With that, the door closed, leaving the older man standing in the hall. There were not many places in this world Frank Tancredi didn't have access to, but there was one he desperately wanted but couldn't have, his daughter's heart.

TBC

A/N: Okay, so is there still any reader left who likes this story and wants me to continue? If so, let me know, so I know. :)