Sara woke up and not a moment later, the peaceful bliss of sleep gave way to a pang of nervous energy in her belly. Her responsibilities of the day as a witness hit her with a force that it hadn't before; days leading up to the trial she knew she'd have to testify. Hell, she volunteered to, but the reality of what that meant for her was striking a different chord now that the day had finally arrived.
She'd testified before, but it had always been in her capacity as a physician, never as a friend. It was easier that way – she was a medical professional presenting the facts, but this case was different. She'd still be presenting facts, but they weren't medical in nature. Her real concern though was that the prosecutor would try to undermine her credibility somehow. That's all they had where she was concerned- make the jury deem her dishonest and unreliable. Veronica had warned her, but she hadn't really allowed herself to imagine the various scenarios in which that might happen.
Today. It would happen today.
The work that they had all put into this floated back into the forefront of her mind; her first night visiting Veronica, comforting her after she'd witness the murder of the man trying to help them, the long nights going through evidence, the mornings fueled by coffee, donuts, and determination. The spur of the moment trip to Montana, being chased by Company agents…it had been a long road to get here, but today was finally the moment to see the fruits of their labor.
That was the hope anyways.
Michael stirred next to her, possibly awoken by the buzz of energy that she was sure must be radiating off her skin, even in the early morning hours. His eyes didn't open, and he didn't make any move to indicate that he was actually awake and ready to get up.
Her mind continued whirling, and after a while of trying to will herself back to sleep, she knew her efforts were in vain and decided to get out of bed – slowly, so as not to hurt herself, and start getting herself ready.
It was still dark, and she didn't want to wake Michael by turning on the light, so she used the flashlight on her phone to raid her closet. After a bit of consideration, she grabbed a black pencil skirt and its matching suit jacket, along with a silky white shirt for underneath; black and white seemed like a safe choice- not wanting a red shirt to subconsciously influence the jury to thinking she was angry and hostile, and not wanting a blue one to make them think she was trying too hard to be likeable.
Was she overthinking? Probably, but she grabbed the silky white blouse off the hanger anyways and told her mind to shut up about it. The last thing she needed was one more worry, however insignificant.
Slipping into the clothes already made her feel slightly more prepared; the comfortable snugness of the skirt and clean lines of the jacket adding to her confidence. The woman in the mirror looked like she knew what she was doing, and that was the attitude she'd carry with her until the trial was over.
The feeling brought back a few childhood memories she hadn't thought about in a while. Childhood wasn't entirely accurate though, it was more like…her adolescent and early adult years, dressing up to attend one of her father's events. At the time, wearing a fancy dress was her least favorite attire…still kind of was, but it was the implications that bothered her the most. She was Frank's daughter, and her beauty and ability to act polite and submissive was her only attribute as far as any of his cohorts were concerned. She was expected to behave like a lady, to paint a picture of his wonderfully normal yet somehow elitist lifestyle.
She was a prop.
For that reason, the suit felt like a much better choice; a symbol of strength and power. She'd forgotten how much of an effect a simple change of clothing could have on how she felt. Ninety-nine percent of the time she was either wearing work clothes or a simple outfit – jeans and t-shirts, which is how she liked it. But today was a special occasion, one where she wasn't a prop, but an asset and a witness- one who could lend a hand in setting an innocent man free.
With hours left until they had to leave, she took her time getting ready; straightening her hair until it was sleek and shiny, and applying her eye make-up to look put together but not overly dramatic. Her face was now a deep purple on the side that had met Mahone's fist, so she carefully applied foundation to cover it and made a mental note to bring the foundation with her in case she needed to reapply it later. It was going to be a long day after all.
She stepped back and analyzed her work, satisfied with the result. She smoothed her hair one last time and reminded herself to not subconsciously run her hand through it while on the stand…it was a nervous habit, and she didn't want to appear nervous.
A bit of shuffling behind her stole her attention. Michael trudged into the bathroom in his worn-out shirt, eyes still half closed.
"Morning," she greeted, straightening her jacket.
"Whoa," his eyes were open now, taking in her appearance, then looking down at himself, "I need to step up my game if I'm walking in with you."
Smiling, "You better walk in with me."
He eyed her more carefully, "Did you sleep ok?"
"I did," she answered, "but as soon as I woke up I started thinking about everything and…I don't know."
His hands rested on her shoulders from behind, "You're gonna do fine, just tell the truth."
"I know, I'm not concerned about what I have to say, I'm worried that they'll try to twist my words somehow…back me into a corner and try to get me to say something in their favor."
Sighing, "That is what they do, but I know you'll do great," then added, "you work well under pressure."
Her head tilted side to side, contemplating. Then a smile, "Yea, guess I do."
XXXXX
Veronica and Aldo arrived together and took refuge in a room just outside the courtroom. Walking down the hallway, she could detect the faint smell of coffee and sandwiches, no doubt the food they had provided for the jurors in the room adjacent. She felt the hollowness in her stomach, having not been able to eat anything for breakfast; her nerves far too amped up to even consider it. She wasn't worried though; it was more of an energy of excitement, of the moment finally being here.
They were early, and expecting Michael and Sara to be there soon, but for now, it was just the two of them.
"You ready?" she asked her star pupil.
Aldo nodded as he shrugged his jacket off, "Think so."
"You'll be fine," she assured.
"From what I hear, the prosecutor is a snake," he ventured, his self-doubt starting to show through his skin.
Shrugging, "He can be, but as long as you stick to the facts, it'll be fine. I can always redirect the questioning, just like we practiced. You're here to present the facts, do that and it'll all work out."
He took a deep breath, working to calm himself down and pump himself up at the same time, "Yea, I know, but it's definitely the prosecutor I'm worried about…being on the stand when you're the one asking questions will be smooth sailing," he winked, and she smiled, happy to be a person of safety and comfort for him during the trial.
She knew that feeling; speaking in front of so many people and knowing that they'd be hanging on your every word. If her presence in front of him made him more at ease, she was happy to play that role.
There was a knock at the door, followed by Michael's voice, "Hey Vee, it's us."
She opened the door to find a very professionally dressed Michael and Sara.
"Well aren't you two a sight for sore eyes," Aldo commented from behind her, taking the words out of her mouth.
Veronica hugged them both, and Michael asked, "How's Linc?"
"Good," she confirmed with as much conviction as she could, then added, "he's ready to get this over with."
"Aren't we all."
"You can say that again," Sara agreed as her eyes fell to the floor.
Veronica reached out and patted her arm, "You'll be fine, I don't bite."
"It's not you I'm worried about."
"That's what I said!" Aldo echoed in good humor, eliciting a laugh from everyone, then pointed to Veronica, "she better be easy on us anyways, it's the other guy that's gonna go for the jugular."
"Comforting," Sara replied with a sarcastic scoff, a smile still on her face though, which Veronica took as a good sign. Laughing always helped with the pre-show jitters.
She watched as Michael put a hand lightly on the small of Sara's back; she looked up, expectant, and he gave a small smirk and a nod of encouragement, something silent passing between them. Sara's face turned down as she tried to hide a smile, and Veronica just watched the whole interaction with awe. They already had their own language.
It hit her again how much she missed Lincoln.
That kind of knowing, the closeness, the steady hand, was something she hadn't realized how much she'd missed. After she and Lincoln had drifted apart, she'd had her share of potential boyfriend candidates; a date here, some flirting there, but nothing that she'd ever found to be worth chasing. There had been some lovely, perfectly nice men, but not the right one.
"Are you asking me out?"
"Yes I am."
His gravelly voice echoed in her mind and she could feel a blush rising in her cheeks. Curse her Irish skin. Now she was the one lowering her head to conceal her feelings, busying herself by turning around and flipping mindlessly through some papers in front of her.
She felt a presence behind her, then heard Sara's voice, "So, you feel ready?"
She turned slightly and saw that Michael and Aldo were conversing in the corner, Michael talking animatedly, which must mean he's talking about work. He didn't tend to talk with his hands unless he was explaining some engineering marvel that required descriptive hand gestures.
"Uh, I think so," she managed, trying to shake her very distracting thoughts of Lincoln, "I mean yes, yup I'm ready."
Sara was watching her closely, analyzing, "You sure?" she questioned, obviously not referring to the trial anymore.
Veronica sighed, letting her guard down since it was just the two of them, quietly, "Lincoln asked me out the other day."
Eyes widened, a grin, "Did he."
"He did," she paused, "and I said yes."
"Veronica, that's great!" she replied with enthusiasm, though hushed so as to not be overheard, "I mean, this is good, right? That's good news."
Grinning, "It is. Ugh, I just have to get through today to know that it's real…that it's actually a possibility. Dating again. That he'll be out of here soon."
Sara's hand found her back, "We'll do whatever we can to help. I'm a star witness, did you know that?"
Eyebrows raised in amusement, "Is that so?"
"Yup," nodding with conviction, "never tripped going up to the stand, never yelled at a judge, never flipped off the prosecutor…I'm the best there is," she finished with a wink.
"Ha! Glad to hear it," she bumped her shoulder against Sara's playfully as they settled down their giggles and went back over to where the guys were.
"What're you two laughing about?" Michael asked with a heavy dose of suspicion. Aldo's eyes were also narrowed, examining their faces, like a parent trying to determine the guilty child.
Veronica met Sara's eyes, and they both smirked, a silent vow to keep what had passed between them a secret, "Nothing you need to worry about," Veronica dismissed breezily.
The door opened, and they were informed that Lincoln would be brought in soon.
"Show time," Veronica announced, looking each of her companions in the eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of trust and belonging. They could do this. Together.
XXXXXX
Aldo was sitting in the hot seat and sweating profusely enough for it to justify the name. Veronica and Lincoln were seated in the front, just off to his right, with Michael and Sara in the row behind them. He watched Lincoln, whose expression was about as telling as ever; his eyes flicked up at one point and met Aldo's but quickly diverted to the right. The diversion didn't appear to be out of hostility though, but more out of discomfort, not knowing how to look him in the eyes…not knowing what to think of him.
So instead, he met Veronica's, hers their usual cool green, as she gave a small smile and nod of assurance as she got up and approached him.
"Please state your name for the record," she asked.
"Aldo Burrows."
"Thank you, Mr. Burrows. You're here to assert that your son, Lincoln Burrows, is innocent of all charges, is that correct?"
"Yes," he replied, thinking this was easy so far.
"On what grounds?"
"On the grounds that the man he's accused of murdering, Terrence Steadman, is alive – living in Montana."
"And there is photographic evidence to back up that claim, correct?"
"That's correct."
"I'd like to submit these photos as evidence," she said as she approached the judge, taking several printed photos out of her manila file. The judge was a young woman, which had surprised Aldo, in a pleasant way. She was about the same height and build as Sara, but with shoulder-length blonde hair and square, dark framed glasses. Her intelligence and calm confidence were plain as day, and he was grateful to be beside a young professional with a brain; not a grumpy old main working out his last few years until retirement.
The Judge took the photos and looked them over, then projected them for the jury to see as Veronica asked him, "Can you please explain these photos?"
"Sure, uh," he craned his neck behind him and saw several photos of Steadman in his home, "I, along with Ms. Donovan, had reason to believe that Steadman had been making phone calls after his supposed murder. After we obtained a warrant for the phone records, we were able to trace the calls to a land line in Montana. So, we hopped on a flight and drove out to the address."
"And what did you find there?"
"Well, we found Terrence Steadman inside, alive, as seen in these photos."
"And did Terrence offer any explanation as to why he was hiding away in Montana?"
Nodding, "He told us that he was forced to make a deal; he would hide away and remain anonymous, his death would be faked, and the scandal involving his company, Ecofield, would die along with…well, supposedly along with him."
He glanced over at the jurors, trying to read their faces. They all looked back at him with calm interest, listening attentively like a classroom full of respectful students. He was grateful, and forced a slow breath and a moment of calm, allowing him to remain centered.
Stick to the facts, it'll all work out.
"Now this scandal," Veronica continued, "is a bit complicated, but could you summarize it for us?"
"Sure," he cleared his throat, trying to condense the intricate scandal into a few sentences, "Terrence Steadman is the brother of Vice President Caroline Reynolds. Caroline Reynolds is a," he struggled to find the right word, "member…of a group of multinational corporations with alliances that are collectively known as The Company. I was also a member of The Company. Her weight as Vice President behind a vote for a particular energy bill, on behalf of The Company, was crucial in helping them attain their goal, which is to control the economy."
He stole a quick glance at the judge, her face was attentive but showed no other emotion. Did she think he was crazy? Did the jurors? Either way, he kept the facts rolling, "Their desperation to control several aspects of the environment, as it pertains to the economy, led them into some illegal dealings with Ecofield."
"Illegal dealings that you had access to?" Veronica prompted.
Nodding, "Given my access to such information as a Company operative, I saw the ugly side of things, and decided to leak information about the scandal to the press. When word got out and they realized who leaked it, I had to go into hiding. What I didn't realize at the time though, was that in order to cover up the scandal, they were going to frame my son, Lincoln, for the murder of Terrence Steadman…a murder that didn't happen."
"So," Veronica boiled it down, "The Vice President and her brother were both involved in illegal dealings between Ecofield and The Company. You leaked this information to the press, and in order to punish you, The Company went after your son, having him put on death row for the supposed murder of Mr. Steadman?"
"That's correct."
"That's all your honor," Veronica turned and went back to her seat, sitting down next to Lincoln as the prosecutor stood up. He was a man of average height and build, with short brown hair and beady, dark brown eyes.
"Mr. Burrows," he began, and Aldo could already feel his heart rate quicken.
"If what you're saying is true, I have to ask," he gave a fake, sadistic laugh, "why didn't you come forward with this when your son was on trial the first time around?"
He gulped, eyes darting to Lincoln, seeing his face was silently asking the same thing. He knew that hesitation would come across as dishonesty, but he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts, to put into words a question that had tormented him since this whole thing had began.
"A couple of reasons," he started, "first, I didn't have the evidence to support my claims. I didn't know at that point that Steadman was alive – had no proof that he was. I also suspected that if I came forward, The Company would have me killed, leaving Lincoln in prison without a single person who could testify on his behalf."
Eyebrows raised, "You're suggesting that "The Company"," he used air quotes, signaling his disbelief, "would have you killed if you agreed to be a witness, defending Lincoln?"
"Yes."
"Ever heard of witness protection?"
He choked back a laugh. This guy really had no idea what The Company was capable of, "Ah, yes I've heard of it, but they are in no way equip to protect me from Company agents."
"Really? Why do you say that?"
Clearing his throat again, "The Company isn't just business men; they employee law enforcement personnel, government officials…the best of the best. If they put a hit out on me, I'd be dead before the end of the day, body disposed of, vanished without a trace. Heck, one of the witness protection agents assigned to me could be a Company agent too. They're everywhere, and they blend in."
"Yet you somehow managed to elude them?"
"I worked for them, so I know how they operate. That's the only reason I'm still here. If I'd agreed to witness protection or made any more of a spectacle of myself after leaking information to the press, I wouldn't be."
Nodding, "You told us that it was you and Ms. Donovan who went to the Steadman residence, correct?"
"That's correct."
"Was there not a third person present as well?" his eyes piercing, making him feel guilty for absolutely no reason.
"There was, but not until the following day."
"You stayed the night with Mr. Steadman?"
"We had to. Upon entering the house, we discovered it only opened from the outside. We were trapped and called a friend for help. She flew out and opened the door the next day, so we could leave."
"So, if the doors only open from the outside, that means you let yourself in…as Mr. Steadman couldn't have opened the door for you."
Slowly, sensing a trap, "That's right, we opened the door."
"With Mr. Steadman's permission?"
He glanced at Veronica, wishing for a lifeline. Steadman had been upstairs doing whatever the heck he did all day when they'd gotten there, but Steadman didn't know they were there until they were inside. That wasn't exactly, "Permission."
Stick to the facts.
"Ah, not exactly," he decided on, "we knocked and rang the doorbell, not getting a response. Ms. Donovan tried opening the door and found it unlocked. We went inside and Steadman came downstairs once we were in."
"So, you illegally entered his residence?"
"Objection," Veronica shot up from her seat.
"Overruled," the judge replied, "but get to your point."
The prosecutor nodded, "What you're telling me is that you illegally entered his residence, and took photos of him, probably without his consent, and are submitting those photos as your primary piece of evidence?"
"Objection," Veronica said again, and he could see the heat rising in her cheeks.
"Moving on," the prosecutor replied, changing the subject, "you said that a friend flew to Montana to let you out."
"That's right."
"And that friend is seated behind me today, correct? Please point her out for everyone."
"Yes, Sara Tancredi," he nodded in her direction, "was the one who flew out to help us."
XXXXXXX
Sara walked carefully up to take the stand, keenly aware that you could've heard a pin drop as she took her seat.
The prosecutor stood before her. She didn't like the looks of him any more from the front than she had sitting behind him; his eyes were really unsettling.
"Please state your name."
"Sara Tancredi."
"What do you do for a living, Ms. Tancredi?"
"I'm the physician at Fox River State Penitentiary."
"The same prison where Lincoln Burrows is being held."
"That's correct."
"And how did you become involved in this case?"
"Lincoln is a patient of mine, and as their physician it's part of my job to advocate for them."
Eyes narrowed dramatically, "Is it?"
Unwavering, "To me it is."
After a moment, "How did you become aware that there were any possible issues with his case?"
"His brother, Michael Scofield, was also a patient of mine. He informed me that Lincoln's lawyer was looking into his case again and might need some help, so I looked her up and offered my assistance."
He paused a moment, obviously trying to make her uncomfortable. She was determined to not grant him his wish.
"How would you be able to offer assistance? I mean…you're not a lawyer," his smirk was condescending, it said "You're not a lawyer, you're just a doctor."
"I wasn't sure at the time," she replied honestly, "but I wanted to hear what evidence she had."
"Your ability to help with this case wouldn't have anything to do with your father would it? Being the daughter of the Governor certainly gives you some pull when it comes to getting inmates off death row."
There it is, she thought. When would she ever be able to step out of his shadow?
Flatly, "My father has nothing to do with this case."
"But you did visit him, asking for his assistance, right?"
"I did," she replied, forcing herself to remain un-rattled, "and he dismissed me, offering no assistance whatsoever."
"Is that a common occurrence, your father "dismissing" you?"
Her eyebrows shot up, was he really trying to make this about daddy issues?
"Objection," Veronica shouted with a voice thick with disdain. Sara couldn't help a small smile, grateful for her friend seeing exactly what this snake of a man was trying to imply, just as she had.
"Move on," the judge concurred, forcing him to change the subject.
"You mentioned that Michael Scofield was the reason you became aware of this case."
"Correct."
"What's your relationship to him?"
There it is again, she thought. All he's been doing is trying to undermine her credibility with, "You're just here because you're the governor's daughter," or, "You're just doing this for your boyfriend."
She huffed inaudibly, just enough to make herself feel better before replying, "He's my boyfriend."
"So, he was an inmate, and your patient, and now he's your boyfriend? Do you make a habit of dating your patients?"
"Objection!" Veronica yelled again.
"No further questions your honor," he concluded, taking his seat.
Sara took a beat to center herself; she'd been fidgeting with the bottom hem of her jacket the entire time without even realizing it, but thankfully the jury couldn't see behind the wooden stand. She set her hands flat on top of her legs, smoothing them and hoping they wouldn't get a mind of their own and start fidgeting again.
She caught Michael's eye, his gaze that icy one that he got when the wheels were spinning below the surface…along with a smoldering anger. He obviously didn't like the prosecutor either, which oddly comforted her. She couldn't wait to commiserate with everyone about their unfortunate adversary later.
Veronica approached her now, with a look of calm determination, "Ms. Tancredi, you're here for one reason today, and that is to testify that you saw Terrence Steadman alive in his home on the day these photographs were taken, is that a true statement?"
With confidence, "It is."
Nodding, "Let's talk about The Company for a moment," she addressed the jurors now, "I realize this is a lot to take in, so let's put a more personal spin on it," facing Sara, "do you have any first hand experience dealing with Company agents."
She stifled the flashbacks, "Yes I do."
Her voice a bit softer, "Could you share them with us?"
XXXXXX
"Oh my God what is WITH that guy?" Veronica huffed as they all shuffled into the room they'd started the day in. It was lunch time for everyone, and they were all ready for a break; even the jurors were starting to get that glazed-over look in their eyes. Coffee and sandwiches were on the table for them now too, and Veronica greedily grabbed a cup, filled it to the brim and grabbed the sandwich closest to her, not even caring what kind it was.
"He sounded desperate to me," Michael chimed in as he grabbed a plate, "like his case doesn't hold any water, so he's trying to make the jury doubt everyone's credibility."
"Right," Sara rolled her eyes as she poured herself some coffee, "like my daddy issues, that was fun."
"I'm so sorry about that," Veronica offered in a tired tone, "I couldn't object fast enough to that one."
Sara grinned, obviously taking the jab at her strained relationship with her dad well, "Thank you for coming to my rescue."
That made her smile too, "Any time, God I'll "object" that little punk into next Tuesday."
Aldo was being awfully quiet, she realized, and saw him standing off to the corner, "How're you holding up?" she asked, pulling him out of his daze.
"What? Oh, I'm fine," he waved a hand, "just didn't realize how much of a lunatic I sound like, talking about The Company to a room full of people who didn't know they existed."
"It's a lot to take in," Sara agreed, stirring cream into her coffee, "but I think we kept it simple enough to be believable. If we told them the whole story…everything The Company has done…that'd be different."
"True," Aldo agreed.
Lincoln was with them now, along with a guard stationed just inside the door. She watched with amusement as he grabbed three sandwiches, not even bothering with a plate. Sara was watching him too, and caught Veronica's eye, the two of them grinned and shook their heads.
"Little hungry there?" Veronica teased him.
A smirk, "Haven't had real food in ages, I'm getting it while I can."
"Can't say I blame you," she replied, not even wanting to know what it was like to live off of prison food, "but hopefully you'll be able to have all the real food you want soon."
"Can't happen soon enough," he agreed, taking a bite.
They all chit-chatted, stretched, walked around the room, sat down, then stood up again, unable to keep the nerves at bay once lunch was eaten. It was an hour break, which was merciful, but the anticipation started growing about half way through that time, and she could feel it in the room.
She wanted to look through her notes some more – willed herself to open the file but she just couldn't do it. The trial itself was draining enough, so any last minute cramming would end up doing more harm than good, muddling her thoughts and sending her mind into information overload.
When it was time to head back into court, she offered a brief pep talk as she stood, blocking the door before they could all barge past, "Not long now you guys, just don't let him rattle you – you're all doing great at that by the way, and always - ?" she gestured openly, waiting for them to complete the thought.
In unison with childlike mockery, "Stick to the facts."
"That's right," she agreed with exaggerated enthusiasm, "let's finish this."
