First Down

One moment, he regains control. The next, he feels as though he's about to lose it all over again.

"You're as stupid as the prison doctor, you know that?" Bellick quips to Nika, who glances at Michael to gauge his reaction.

He simply shakes his head. "Ignore him."

"He conned her too," Bellick goes on. "Made her think he loved her and look what she got. An overdose and a shot at thirty years inside."

Michael freezes, glancing at Lincoln who looks just as surprised by the news. "What are you talking about?"

"Guess you haven't been reading the papers, have you, college boy?" Bellick teases grimly. "Cops found your girlfriend fish-belly white, gargling in her own puke."

A cold shudder of fear and regret runs down Michael's spine. He has to look away. Bellick has to stop talking. He's going to be sick. "Shut up."

"Eh, what do you care?" Bellick grins wickedly. "As long as she left the door open for you."

"Shut up!" Michael screams and he doesn't listen to what Bellick says next; he can't. A quick blow to the face shuts him up pretty effectively before Michael turns to go. The ceiling is spinning in slow, dizzy circles. The walls are caving in on him. He has to get out of there.

Sara. Sara. He hadn't known; how could he not have known? He knew he'd ruined Sara's life; that was a given. But he hadn't known he'd caused her so much mental anguish that she'd turn to substance abuse to try and end her pain. His heart is throbbing with an ache he can't soothe; he wonders if she's done this before and almost instantly he realizes she probably has. It clicks; the reason she wants to improve others' lifestyles, the reason she's giving and honest and good, the reason she feels compelled to help struggling members of her community in need is because she had once been in their shoes and knows what it's like to fight unbearable demons.

Demons he'd then instigated and re-released.

God, he's an idiot; he hates himself for not seeing it sooner. How could he not see it? She'd had a life of stress and anxiety and no one to turn to. It's killing him; he needs to talk to her, needs to see her, needs to be with her so he can try and repair the damage he's caused. He's sure their relationship is beyond repair, but God, he cares about her so much and he just wants her to see how sorry he is. He'd spend forever trying to fix things, if he could. It's just too much; he's overwhelmed with his feelings for her, with his regret and his sorrow, and so he does the one thing that could lead the authorities to his doorstep and the one thing he's been dying to do ever since he left Fox River.

He calls her.

Joking about lacing blueberry pie with crack is about the most fun Sara's had in a long time. Lance is interesting, she has to admit, and she thinks, possibly, the two could bond over their mutual addictions and grow to support one another. She isn't even remotely interested in anything else; mostly because she's come to realize she, understandably, has trust issues following her recent history. They're laughing and she'll have to admit she hasn't been this happy in a while (after Michael kissed her, to be exact, but she'd been happier then). Her phone rings and she digs in her purse a little before she finds it. Nothing in the world could prepare her for who is on the other end.

"Sara. It's me."

Her heart gives an unwanted tug. It takes her a moment to find her voice. "What do you want?"

"I don't have time to talk and there's every chance they're listening to this call right now," His voice is muffled and broken, as though he's been through half of the shit she's been through. "But there's a lot I want to say. Please don't hang up on me."

She wants to. She knows she won't. Sara inhales slowly before telling him, "I don't… I don't want to talk to you."

It's true and it isn't, not really, but he ignores it, anyway. "I heard about… I heard about what happened. I want you to know how sorry I am. For everything."

And God, does he sound sorry. If he's faking this, he's doing a great job. But there's something about his tone, whispered, hushed and broken, that's telling Sara he's being completely genuine with her. He almost sounds like he's been crying and the thought of that generates a lump inside her throat. But she's angry, still so incredibly angry, that she can only bask in his sorrow for a moment before saying, "Sorry's not going to do me a whole lot of good with what I'm up against right now."

"Listen, anyone with any ties to me and my brother is in danger now."

"I have no ties to you and your brother anymore," Sara retorts and her anger is starting to boil over.

"There's a way I can protect you. It's already in your possession."

He's being cryptic as usual; it's the straw that breaks the camel's back. "What are you talking about?!"

"It was real, Sara. You and me. It's real."

And she's speechless, because, honestly, what is she supposed to say to that? She hears a click on the other end; he's hung up. "Michael?"

But he's gone and she's left alone with his final statement in order to ponder whether he'd meant it or not. With his track record, she can't possibly believe that he actually cares for her, that he would want to be with her, because their relationship had been built on a foundation of shaky lies and unsteady half-truths, at best.

There was something in his voice, however, that told her this time, he hadn't been lying.