"Michael, I'm so sorry," Veronica hugged him as soon as she walked into the hospital. He clutched her tightly, desperately. She ran a hand up and down his back, offering hushed, soothing words.
Aldo had walked in with her but lagged slightly behind. As she hugged Michael, she could feel his uncertainty behind them. She slowly broke away from Michael and stepped back, gesturing to Aldo that it was his turn to offer his sympathies.
Aldo offered a hand, and then obviously ignored his rational mind and turned the handshake into a hug. They slapped each other on the back a few times as men do, and then he asked, "How's she doing?"
"Uh," he pulled back a little, addressing them both, "they said she's stable, and aside from the bruises she'll be ok."
"What the hell happened?" Veronica asked.
"They said she had some kind of sedative in her system, but beyond that I have no idea. She's still sedated, but they think she'll wake up soon."
"Who did it?" she asked.
Reluctantly, "Well, I don't know exactly who…but I think we all know who was behind the order."
They all nodded with understanding, "Well, we're all here for her," Veronica reassured, "and you. If you need anything-"
"-I know," he offered a sad smile, and her heart broke for him.
"I can always stop by her place and get a change of clothes, anything you guys need," she emphasized, squeezing his arm in one last gesture of reassurance. She felt pretty useless, but sometimes even a simple offer was enough to make her feel like she was doing something, and hopefully it would offer him some peace of mind.
"Thank you," he said tiredly.
Aldo stuck his hands in his pockets, "Do you need something to eat? I can stop by the cafeteria and get something for all of us."
She realized that Aldo must be feeling the same way that she was. Every bone in her body wanted to make this right, to wind the clock back and prevent Sara from ever being hurt, but that wasn't an option. The only thing left to do was offer the simple comforts of human existence; company and food.
Veronica looked at Michael, sensing his hesitation but seeing how drawn he looked. She asked gently, "Did you have dinner yet?" the clock on the wall read just after seven.
"No, I didn't," he said, and something in his voice registered guilt.
Confused, "Tell me."
"What?" he asked, thrown off.
"You just thought of something- something that upset you. What is it?"
His eyes widened, obviously not used to being so transparent, "Uh," he stammered, then gave in, "I was out getting dinner when she was attacked."
Aldo immediately replied, "That's not your fault."
The hurt in Michael's eyes was evident.
"It's not," Veronica echoed, "for all you know they were watching and waiting for you to leave. There's no coincidences with them."
"I shouldn't have left her alone."
"You can't baby sit her 24/7," she countered, knowing that he was digging his heels in, solidifying his guilt.
The look in his eyes said that he knew she was right, and he didn't give a verbal response.
Aldo cleared his throat, "I'll go grab us some food, you've got to eat something, Michael."
"Thanks Aldo," Veronica replied and then turned back to Michael, "let's go sit down."
His guard seemed to drop a bit, and he allowed Veronica and Aldo to fuss over him. She led him to a row of chairs along the window. It was dark out now, but sitting by the window was still somehow less depressing. Aldo arrived with containers of soup and crackers, along with a few brownies and cookies. He'd even brought some decaf coffee, making Veronica smile and feel slightly called out – he knew she was a sucker for the beverage no matter what the hour.
With warm food in their bellies, their conversations turned to lighter topics; anything but the trial or Sara's condition. Veronica told a few work stories, she asked Michael about his apartment in Miami…anything to keep him talking and engaged.
She watched Michael closely, happy to notice that his body language seemed to relax a little. He'd been hesitant to eat at first, but ended up finishing the meal and even stealing a cookie she had, earning him a sisterly slap on the hand. They passed the time as best they could, but she knew they were all eagerly waiting for Sara to wake up; they all cared about her, and keeping the worrying thoughts at bay was only possible for so long.
XXXXXX
Sara slowly started becoming aware of her body. It was an odd sensation; floating and drifting, with the dull sensation of pain mingled in, but she was unable to pinpoint its origin. The hazy awareness lasted for what felt like a long time, but eventually she was able to will her eyes open slowly. The lights in the room were soft, but still caused her to squint, blinking back the pain in her eyes. There was a steady beeping sound next to her, a sterile smell that was vaguely familiar.
Was she in a hospital?
The combination of sounds and smells was homey and familiar, being the doctor that she was, but being unaware of why she was in a hospital was deeply unsettling. She opened her eyes again, braving against the lights. She turned her head slightly to try to find the call button and gasped at the sharp pain on the side of her face. Her skin felt tight and swollen, throbbing and protesting at the slight move she'd made.
Feeling around, she finally found the button. Within a minute, a nurse was in the room.
"Hi Sara, I'm Maddie. How're you feeling?" the young brunette asked.
"Head hurts," she admitted, "what happened?"
"The doctor is on his way in now to talk to you, ok?"
"Uh…ok," she was confused as to why she wasn't getting an answer. Then the memories slowly started coming back.
Maddie left the room after making sure everything was ok, and Sara's mind flashed back to her apartment…the gun pointed at her, the hand cuffs and punch to the face, the syringe…
The door opened again and a friendly looking man in his thirties entered the room, "Hello, Sara, nice to officially meet you," he pulled up a chair next to her bed and offered a warm smile, "I'm Dr. McCord."
"Hi," she offered weakly, deciding already that she liked him.
"Can you tell me what happened?" he prompted, "Anything at all that you remember."
"Uh," she froze, not knowing how much to share, "I don't remember much," she lied. She couldn't exactly tell him about The Company and all of the conspiracies. She'd sound like a lunatic…but on the other hand, she kicked herself for lying to her own doctor. She knew she was lied to by patients all the time and it drove her nuts.
He seemed to detect her dishonestly, but maintained his professional persona, "Ok, and the man that brought you in," he flipped open the folder he had, "Michael Scofield?"
"Yea-what about him?" she asked, realizing with a sinking feeling that Michael must have found her unconscious and bruised. That wasn't going to be an easy thing to get him to forget.
"What's his relation to you?"
"He's…he's my boyfriend," she told him, not particularly liking the word…it seemed insufficient somehow, but it would do for the time being.
Dr. McCord looked her in the eyes now, "I have to ask: did he do this to you?"
Eyes widened, "What? No! God no."
Unphased, "Because if he's hurting you, we can help get you someplace safe-"
"-no," she cut him off, "it wasn't him."
"Then who was it?"
She sighed, "Can I see him please? Michael."
His expression softened again, "Yes. Of course," he put a hand on her forearm, "we're here to help, just want to make sure we aren't missing anything."
She nodded, understanding the protocol but not caring at the moment.
"I'll go get him. I'd like to talk to you further about what's going on, is it ok if he's present for that?"
"Absolutely," she agreed, just wanting to see him…and for him to see her; he had to know that she was ok. She could only imagine him pacing the waiting room, frantic and worried.
Dr. McCord nodded and left the room, leaving her alone and waiting. She reached up a hand and felt her face, running her fingers over the swollen skin, trying to assess the damage without seeing it.
The door opened a moment later, Dr. McCord walking back in with Michael on his heels.
"Sara," he breathed, instantly at the side of her bed, crouching and taking her hand in both of his.
"I'm ok," she assured, "I'm fine."
His eyes scanned every inch of her, finally settling on her face, and she saw the pity in them, "This is all my fault."
"No, it's not," she shot back, shaking her head and then wincing at the resulting jolt of pain, "it's not your fault."
"Then whose fault is it?" he asked.
She looked at Dr. McCord, who was standing politely off to the side, "Do you mind if we have a moment alone?"
He held her gaze, obviously searching for evidence that she was afraid or hiding something, then reluctantly agreed, "Of course. Hit the call button if you need anything."
"Thank you," she turned her attention back to Michael, "it's the General's fault," then mumbled, "and all of his lackeys."
Eyes narrowed, "Do you remember who did it?"
Oh yea, she realized. He didn't know that part yet, "Uh, yea, I recognized him."
"Who was it?" his voice grew lower, determination in his eyes.
"The F.B.I agent that was after you and Linc when you first escaped."
Now Michael looked even more confused, "The F.B.I?"
"Well, yea," she realized he hit the same mental block that she had, until it had clicked for her, "but he's Company too. I flat out asked him, and he said yes. He's a Company agent."
"Huh," was all he could manage, the wheels turning.
They sat in silence for a moment; Michael obviously trying to put the pieces together in his mind, and Sara simply enjoying his company and warmth of his hand surrounding hers. It must've been terrifying for him, she realized, finding her unconscious like that. Whatever the agent injected her with…she had no idea what state it left her in. She gazed down at Michael now, staring blankly into space, and wished she knew how to ask him what had happened. She wanted to hear the story from his perspective too, allowing her to better understand what he was feeling, and what his fears were.
A knock at the door had them both looking up again, and Sara smiled at seeing Veronica and Aldo in the doorway.
"Hey guys," she greeted happily, grateful to see some more familiar faces. It amazed her sometimes to have this many people in her life who would show up for her, no matter what crazy circumstances they were in.
Veronica stepped in, "Sara, oh my God."
Sara offered a weak smile; she really needed a mirror to see what all the fuss was about. Sure, it hurt, but…
"What happened?" Veronica asked as she came to the foot of her bed, Aldo not far behind.
"Well, I-"
"-it was the F.B.I agent," Michael cut in, staring at Aldo now, "apparently, he works for The Company too."
"What agent?" he asked, then realized, "the one from the news?"
"That's the one."
"Why would he-," he paused to gather his thoughts, "so when he was after you and Lincoln, it was presumably on behalf of the F.B.I."
"Right."
"But then with you getting hired by The Company, he's now following The General's orders and not the F.B.I's?
"That's my take," Michael confirmed, "Sara, did he mention anything about why he was there?"
"Yea, he said it was to get you to work for them longer…that if you don't," her voice took on a mocking tone, "This will be a much more regular occurrence."
Michael paled slightly at that but did his best to shake it off, "We have to end this as soon as possible."
"End this?" Veronica asked.
Michael looked at Sara, communicating silently. She knew he was asking if he should tell them about his deal with Christina. She knew it was a painful subject for him, but she also knew they would benefit by keeping everyone in the loop. She replied quietly, "I think you should tell them."
Veronica feigned a look of feeling slighted, "Tell us what? Come on, Michael if you don't trust us by now-"
"-it's not that," he promised, "I just didn't want to admit it to myself…what I was doing to keep everyone I love safe."
Veronica sat on the edge of Sara's bed, her voice softer now, "Tell me."
He looked over at her and stood up a bit from his crouched position, settling into a chair that was against the wall instead. He took a moment, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "I took another deal from Christina."
Aldo's eyes widened, "You what?"
"Hear him out," Veronica replied, obviously not wanting to get into family drama right now.
"She agreed to…" he glanced up at Sara, who met his eyes and nodded, "to kill The General, as long as I finish Scylla on my own and give it to her. She'll sell it and give me 25% of the profits." He looked at Sara again, "We'd be free and…safe."
"Wow," was all Veronica could manage, her hand subconsciously resting on Sara's leg, squeezing it every now and then in a reassuring gesture. Whether it was for Sara's benefit or her own, she couldn't tell, but it made her smile a little despite herself.
"Michael, this," Aldo began, "this is getting in way too deep."
"I'm already in too deep," he shot back, "this is the way out."
"With her? You trust her?"
"You say that like you're any better," he was angrier now, bitter, "You both left us. You both worked for The Company. You're digging Lincoln out now and that's fine, but I have to get out of this too. If she's willing to help and I have no better option…"
A silence fell, his words cutting deep and entering a dangerous territory. The polite, easy conversations that he and Aldo had shared were forgotten, and the childhood wounds that lingered into adulthood were now out in the open for everyone to see.
After a moment, Sara spoke quietly, addressing the room but mostly Aldo, "She did help before," shrugging, "held up her end of the bargain."
He wasn't convinced, shaking his head, "I don't know…I just don't feel right about this."
"I don't feel right about it either," Michael replied, an edge to his voice, "but this," he pointed to Sara, "can't happen again."
Sara's felt a swell of emotion; being the object of someone's love and protection, no matter what the cost, was something new to her. She wanted to say something to express her appreciation, but she couldn't find the words and knew it wasn't the time anyways. Instead she settled on reaching a hand out towards him. He stood up and clasped his hand around hers, coming closer and leaning over, planting a long kiss on her forehead. The gesture surprised her; she'd never known what his stance on public displays of affection was, but she'd have guessed he was on the more private side.
Maybe it was because they were just in the company of people he'd known his whole life that he felt comfortable being more vulnerable. Maybe he was exhausted and scared out of his mind. Whatever the reason, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the grounding sensation of his lips against her skin, feeling a brief pause in her throbbing headache.
Veronica broke the silence, squeezing her leg again and offering, "Whatever I can do to help, you guys just let me know, ok?"
Aldo nodded slowly, giving in, "Me too."
Sara smiled softly, "Thank you."
XXXXX
Veronica woke up the next morning feeling drained already. They'd stayed at the hospital until almost midnight making sure that Sara was ok, and that Michael was truly going to be alright on his own. Once she was convinced that he wasn't going to spiral once left to his own devices, she and Aldo had driven back to her place and crashed almost immediately.
Her alarm going off at six was cruel – way too soon for her liking, but she had work to do. Lincoln's trial was only two days away now and she still needed to brief him on it and go over what to expect. Truth was: she didn't know what to expect herself – this was unfamiliar territory to say the least. She'd bet her last cent that there was only a handful of lawyers across the country who'd seen this situation before- add to that her inexperience in criminal law and her history with Lincoln and things were getting messy inside her mind.
Maybe that was the root of the problem, her uncertainty of where she stood with Lincoln. Once he was out, would they just be friends? More than that? Or would they drift apart, like they had before this whole mess had brought her stumbling back into his life. She hoped against that last option, not wanting to lose him again. She thought about the intensity of her fear of losing him to the chair, of worrying about him on the run, and now fighting tooth and nail for his freedom since he'd been back at Fox River. All of those factors combined had made one thing perfectly clear: she still had feelings for him.
The admission to herself brought a sinking feeling in her stomach, the mixture of thrill and dread all in one, like the biggest drop on a rollercoaster. That feeling combined with her lack of sleep and the early morning hours was making her queasy and even less thrilled to get out of bed. She dared to sit up slowly, allowing her mind and body time to sync up and adjust, but the lingering effect of her emotional roller coaster ride was still there.
How could she broach that subject with him? Should she broach the subject with him? She stared, un-seeing, at her feet on the floor beneath her, willing herself to get off the bed.
Maybe she should wait…if she suggested they try again and things somehow went badly with his trial, it would leave them both worse off in the long run. Yup, that's what she'd have to do – bury her feelings and wait. She was getting pretty good at that.
With a mighty effort, and pushed herself up and over to the closet, picking out a professional yet comfortable outfit for the day. She knew that Aldo would need to testify on Lincoln's behalf, but was waiting to see if Michael or Sara should be called on as well. She knew they'd want to be there to offer moral support, but needed to find out if they'd be actual witnesses for the trial. If they were, she needed to prep them…and hope that Sara was physically well enough to be there in the first place.
But first on her list was a visit to Fox River – hopefully for the last time, to go over everything with Lincoln. They'd get to meet in a private room this time, not regular visitation, and she looked forward to a longer time together as well as a little privacy. There would still be guards watching but she felt slightly less exposed than in the cafeteria style visiting room she usually ended up in. Being his lawyer, and this being their last meeting before the big day, she'd be afforded pretty much all the time she needed and intended to milk that as much as possible. She didn't want him going back to solitary any sooner than he needed to and assumed that he'd prefer that as well.
She straightened her hair, applied a bit of mascara, and grabbed her bag, noting for the first time that the strap was starting to fray. The poor thing had carried pounds of files for well over a year, no wonder it looked like it had taken a beating. As long as it could last through this trial, maybe she'd celebrate by getting a new one; disposing of the bag that carried the literal burden of this whole case on her shoulders.
She sighed and got into her car, heading to Fox River for one last visit.
XXXXXX
Michael had barely slept a wink. After Veronica and Aldo had said their goodbyes the night before, his mind refused to slow down, trying desperately to figure out a way out of this whole mess.
He was creative, and he knew it; he secretly prided himself on being very adept at problem solving, though he was always careful to stay humble, to not allow himself to develop a grandiosity that would end up biting him in the ass. But this time was different. He had no master plan. All he had was a deal with Christina and a burning desire to make the people who hurt Sara and Lincoln pay for what they'd done. So, in essence, all he really had was an ever growing sense of urgency to finish Scylla.
After he'd spent about an hour mulling over everything, he'd come to the conclusion that the only constructive thing he could do was continue trying to finish Scylla as fast as humanly possible. Around one in the morning, with Sara peacefully asleep, he grabbed a paper towel from the sink in her room and quickly, skillfully, folded an origami rose, leaving it by her bedside. It wasn't much, but he knew if she woke up and saw that he was gone, the rose would be a small assurance that he'd be back.
With that, he snuck out and drove back to her apartment, got his work laptop, and returned to the hospital. When he entered her room, she was asleep but in a slightly different position; one hand laid gracefully across her abdomen with the rose in between her fingers. He smiled to himself, relived that even though she'd woken up, she'd found what he'd left her and that it put her mind at ease enough for her to fall back to sleep.
He plopped back down into the chair opposite her bed and plugged the laptop in. Against his better judgement, he stepped back out into the hallway and got some questionable coffee. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anyways, and since he was awake he might as well function as highly as possible, right?
For several hours, he poured over the information in front of him. He felt useless in about every other way: he couldn't heal Sara, he couldn't free Lincoln, couldn't prevent more people trying to harm his family…this was the one thing he could do.
Around four in the morning, Sara started to stir. The sound of crisp hospital sheets crinkling is what first drew his attention away from his screen, followed by a low groan. She started to stretch but then winced, curling back up, her hand coming to rest on what must've been a sore spot by her ribs.
"Hey," he said softly, "you ok?"
She looked confused a moment before turning her head towards him. Her eyes narrowed, voice still low from sleep, "Are you…working?"
Guiltily, "Uh, yea."
Her eyes roamed over him for an instant before declaring, "You didn't sleep."
Quietly, "Nope."
She looked at the table next to him, seeing the coffee cup, "You know you're gonna burn yourself out, right?"
"I have to finish Scylla, it's the only way to keep you safe and get my life back."
Rubbing her eyes, "And you think that what, four hours of extra work in the middle of the night will get you there?"
"Four hours more than it could've been," he defended, "I've made progress."
Nodding, "I'm sure you have, I just don't want you to kill yourself trying to finish this thing in one day."
He tilted his head back and forth, "More like three or so."
Startled, "You think you can finish Scylla…in three days?"
"Maybe four," he clarified.
Stunned silence, followed by, "They had a team working on it for years, and you think you can-"
"-I know I can."
After a beat, "How?"
He shrugged, "I work well under pressure."
That got a small chuckle, "Can't argue with that, considering all you've managed to accomplish in the last year."
There was a knock at the door and Dr. McCord walked in quietly, then a look of surprise appeared on his face, "Oh, you're awake! Good morning," he greeted cheerfully.
"Morning," they echoed.
"How're we doing?" he asked as he took a seat, the three of them forming a triangle.
Sara nodded, "Pretty good, I think. Still sore, but…"
"Yea it'll be that way for a while," he said apologetically, "but the sedative has worked its way out of your system. We're looking to have you out of here by lunch time if that sounds good to you?"
"Sure," she replied, and Michael tried to read her expression. She didn't seem thrilled at the prospect of leaving, but maybe she was just sore and tired.
"I'm sure you already know the drill," Dr. McCord started, respecting her position in their shared profession, "but you'll have to take it easy for a while. You've got a lot of bruising going on, but nothing is broken, so it'll just take time to heal."
She nodded.
"In any case, we're glad to see you doing better. Is there anything else you need?"
"I'm ok, thank you," she replied.
"Alright then, you two take care," he got up and made his way to the door.
"Thank you," they replied in tandem as the door clicked behind the kindly doctor.
Michael turned to Sara, "So, just a few more hours here, huh?" He searched her face, looking for any signs of fear, that she wasn't ready to go back to her apartment and it was there; subtle, undetectable to someone who didn't know her well, but it was there. Her eyes were ever so slightly wider than they should have been, her fingers restlessly toying with the end of her sheet.
She cleared her throat, "Yea, sounds like it."
Gently, "We can stay somewhere else if you'd like."
She shook her head firmly, bravely, "No, I can't stay away forever…but I'd feel better if I wasn't alone, as much as possible I mean."
He reached out a hand, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone."
"Michael, you went out for ten minutes to buy tacos, you can't possibly blame yourself. But until Scylla is done, maybe I should only leave the house to go to work-" a flash of horror passed on her face, "oh my God, I need to call and let them know-"
"-Veronica took care of it," he assured, squeezing her hand, "she called the Warden last night. They know you'll be out until…well, until you show up for work again."
Relief flooded her features, then guilt.
"What?" he asked.
Shaking her head, "Feel bad for Katie. She's been picking up a lot of slack lately."
"That's not your fault."
"I know I just…"
Understanding, "I get the feeling."
"I guess you do," she paused, contemplating, "is this what we do now? Feel guilty all the time and try to fix things, then feel guilty again?"
A dark chuckle, "Seems that way doesn't it?"
"Sometimes, yea…I'm just ready for it all to be over."
"Yea, you and me both," he laid a hand on hers, "but one day soon we can have a life together. A normal life. We'll talk about work, what we want for dinner-"
"-what movie to watch," she added with a sad smile.
He met her eyes, "One day, Sara," then added, "soon."
