(Sara)

Sara pulled her eyes away from her twin's bare flesh. She was pretty sure she knew what Amber had to 'get ready for'. Her twin was a stripper.

Sara took a deep breath and tried to have an open mind. But so far she was finding that a little difficult. Not only was Sara put in danger due to the fact that Amber owed 'Lou' twenty thousand dollars, but she also had to digest the fact that her sister took her clothes off for money.

Amber looked coolly at her as if reading her thoughts.

"We can't all be born with a silver spoon ready to be thrust into our mouths, Sara".

Sara shook her head. "I wasn't… I mean".

She had been about to say she wasn't judging her sister, but that would have been a bold faced lie. Sara was judging her.

She felt her cheeks redden and was starting to apologize when Amber spoke.

"Its okay, Sara, I'm used to it".

Sara met her sister's eyes and for the first time she saw Amber's cool demeanor slip a notch.

"I have to go. If you wanna wait for me we could grab dinner"?

Amber had her hand on the door ready to leave.

"I…um…yeah, dinner would be great", Sara said forgetting all about her plans to dine with Michael that night.

(Later)

Sara, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of watching her twin's 'performance', had inquired at the door as to when Amber's sift would be over. Then borrowing a pen she had scrawled a quick note promising to return.

Sara now sat in a hot bath her head leaning back as the hot steam soothed the tension from her body. She only wished it could soothe her mind as well.

She sighed as she told herself the only logical explanation. She would have to cancel her plans to meet Michael for dinner.

She barely knew her sister; she couldn't very well bring her into the middle of whatever was happening between the two of them.

She wondered exactly what was happening with her and Michael. What was on his mind? Was he having second thoughts about his impending marraige?

If he was there to try to reconcile with her, she wasn't sure what her response would be.

After all she was married to Brian. But if she were to be honest with herself, she would have to admit she did indeed still have feelings for Michael. And she was definitely still attracted to him.

But there had been so much damage done to her relationship with Michael when it technically hadn't even existed, that even if she wasn't married Sara had her doubts. She wasn't sure if a relationship could ever be possible with Michael.

Besides she had made her bed and now she had to lie in it, so to speak. And that bed didn't have one Michael Scofield in it.

Sara blushed at the thought. She had never met a man that could make her blush like Michael could, and it seemed he didn't even have to be present to elicit such reactions from her.

She leaned back in the bathtub, her hair dipping further into the hot steamy water.

She knew she needed to call Michael and tell him she couldn't meet with him.

She told herself just a few more minutes and she would haul herself out of the comforting warmth and make the call.

She closed her eyes, only intending to rest them briefly, and drifted off to sleep.

(Mike)

Michael paced silently in the hotel lobby. He looked again at his watch. Where was she? Sara had said 7:00. His watch told him she was 15 minutes late. He glanced at it again and told himself he was going to go crazy if he found himself looking at his wrist one more time.

He tried to sit down and read a 3 month old magazine, but somehow Brad and Angelina didn't hold any fascination for him just then. Tossing the magazine down, he soon found himself back on his feet pacing. When the elevator chimed its arrival, Michael held his breath, only to let it out in a gush as it opened to reveal a lovely older woman.

She smiled at his anxious eyes and gave him a knowing look.

"Why don't you go see what's taking her so long"?

At his look of incredulity, she winked.

Michael grinned at her retreating back. Some women only got better with age, and he was betting she was one of them. He then found himself wondering what Sara would look like in 3o years and his grin widened. He had to admit to himself he would love for her to age well, but if she didn't, it really didn't matter to him just so long as she aged with him.

Deciding to consider the woman's advice as wisdom gained from age, he made his way to the elevator, where he then stepped in and pushed the button for Sara's floor.

(Sara)

Sara was dreaming about water. She was in the midst of a dream see had had frequently at a different time in her life. She was dreaming about Agent Kellerman and his tactics to get her to talk.

In the dream he pushed her under and she felt her heart booming in her chest.

She felt her lungs begin to ache as she held the precious breath she had managed to gasp before being plunged into the water. The water was so cold; so very cold.

She gasped hungrily for air as he yanked her back up. She knew he was going to kill her. And the whole time she was with Kellerman she couldn't help but feel sorry; sorry she had tried to leave Michael. Sorry she had been so very afraid of him and her own feelings for someone like him. Sorry too that she would never have the chance to tell him that she loved him.

Sara felt Kellerman's hand on the back of her head and pulled in a desperate breath before her face struck the cold water once more. She saw the chain to the plug in the clear blue water, her eyes stinging. If only she could reach it. But it wasn't like Lance… Kellerman would let her pull the plug even if she were to reach it.

Then as always, the dream took a turn.

In reality Kellerman had pulled her back up when his phone rang, but in the dream the phone remained silent and the pressure of his hand on the back of her head remained firm.

Her lungs were on fire and she saw the first bubbles of expelled air seep from her mouth; her very life bubbling away. Her vision swam and she saw the claws of darkness reaching to her from behind her eye lids.

And as the darkness descended she saw her father hanging in the doorway of his home. His face slack and grey, waxy with death. Her dream sped forward and she saw Michael on a building, and then he was falling. As on every other occasion she had dreamed of this, Sara woke with a terrified scream filling her throat.

(Mike)

Michael's balled fist was about to land on the closed door of Sara's suite, when he heard her scream from inside the room.

He looked about anxiously his mind running in too many directions at once. Was she in danger? Was someone in there hurting her?

He pushed his thoughts aside and took action. He rammed into the door, his body feeling every hard inch of the reinforced wood. He backed up and rammed once more and when the door gave, he stumbled into the room.

Sara felt herself go under, her body sliding in the slippery tub. She clutched the sides and came up gasping to the sounds of something heavy slamming into the door of her suite.

Her heart pounding in her head, she pulled herself up on shaky legs and grabbed a towel. She had just gotten it secured around her dripping frame when the bathroom door flew open.

Michael froze at the sight of her. She stood in front of him as lovely as ever dripping in her towel. Her hair looked darker wet and the flush that came up on her face at the sight of him made her glow.

"Uh, I heard you scream"? He mumbled unable to avert his eyes from her wet skin.

"Um, I fell asleep in the bath and I guess I um, I slipped under. It um… I'm okay, Michael, really".

Sara felt so exposed in the small room with only a towel separating Michael's eyes from her skin. She found herself thankful he hadn't barged in a few moments earlier, and then felt her cheeks redden more at the mere thought.

"Could you um… Could you give me a minute"? She said and reached to push her dripping hair from her face.

Michael pulled his eyes from her and stepped back.

"I'll just um… I'll wait in the lobby for you".

He felt what, he wasn't sure. Embarrassed? Embarrassed definitely, but there was something more. He didn't want to let her out of his sight. He knew she was safe; he knew it was ridiculous that he was feeling this way, but he found himself once again slipping into protective mode.

When they had found her after her run in with Paul Kellerman he had sworn to himself he wouldn't let anything happen to her; he wouldn't let anyone hurt her ever again. And he had kept that promise. He had kept her safe. Now he felt all those old feelings coming back. And he knew they were unwarranted. He knew she didn't need his protection, but it didn't stop the overwhelming need from resurfacing.

He stepped into the hall and closed her broken door. He leaned against the wall and told himself to just go to the lobby like he told her he was going to. But he couldn't just leave her here with a broken door, could he? What if someone…

"Stop it"! He scolded aloud.

She's fine; she'll be perfectly fine, he told himself.

Still he stayed put, his long frame leaning with what he hoped was a casual grace against the wall beside her door. He looked down at the floor studying his expensive leather shoes. They could use a good shining he noted. Then he heard footsteps and a pair of black leather boots stopped next to his feet.