A/N: Sorry for the long delay! I got COVID and have been completely useless for the past couple of weeks. I decided to "skip" the rest of the trial and jump ahead to after it was over. I don't know...just wasn't feeling like writing a "big reveal" of the jury reading the verdict...we've all seen that enough times on T.V. ;) Anyways, hope you enjoy this next chapter!

XXXXXXX

"So, how does it feel?" Veronica asked, looking over the soft glow of the tea-light candle in the center of the table.

Lincoln took a sip of his amber colored drink on the rocks and sighed, leaned back in his chair, looking more relaxed than she'd seen him in a long time, "Feels good. Strange…like this is all just a dream I'm gonna wake up from."

"It better not be," she teased, "all that effort to get you out of there."

He smirked, then turned more serious, "I can't ever repay you for what you did…what all of you did, but I'm gonna try."

Smiling softly, "You're alive, and you're free. That's pretty much all I care about right now," she reached carefully between the perfectly set place in front of her and reached for him. His large hand wrapped warmly around hers and she exhaled heavily.

The trial had lasted a long time, given the complexity of the whole thing. When the jury had finally read their verdict, exonerating him of all of his crimes, she'd been so exhausted and hyped up on caffeine that she was convinced she'd hallucinated it. If not for Michael and Sara, along with Aldo beside her, hugging her and grinning, she still might not believe it. Ever since he was released, she was still waiting for the blare of an alarm clock to jolt her from the fantasy, the elusive happy ending she'd been working towards for so long.

"What's on your mind?" Lincoln asked with furrowed brows.

Shaking her head, "Nothing it just, I guess it still feels like a dream to me too."

She looked around her; the blue glow from behind the bar that was just a few tables away, waiters in black pants and crisp white shirts floating from table to table, not to mention the huge window next to them exposing the orange and pink sunset over the vast expanse of Lake Michigan.

She felt the snugness of the emerald green, lace dress she'd chosen to wear and realized how nice it was to feel "pretty" for a night.

Sure, it felt a little silly getting all dressed up for a man who was already like family, and someone she'd been with before, but the look on his face when she'd arrived at the restaurant was enough to have her quit all of that second guessing.

After his release, she'd insisted that they make good on Lincoln's offer for a night out as soon as possible, not wanting to waste another minute assuming that time together would always be there, since they'd both experienced first-hand how misleading that idea could be.

He didn't have a car, and she'd offered to pick him up, which he had flat out refused in his blunt way, insisting that he meet her there instead. At the time, she didn't really care what his reasoning was, so she'd shrugged and went along with it. After some time at home to get ready, she drove to the address he'd given her, and had found him standing outside the doorway waiting for her. His hand had found the small of her back, the warmth of it coursing through the fabric of her dress and finding her skin. She'd leaned into it slightly, comforted by the pressure and warmth, and they walked in together. A young, blonde hostess took them to a table right by the window, overlooking the lake. The table had a reservation card with both of their names, and candles already flickering in the center. It really did feel like a dream.

Lincoln replied, "Right now, I don't care if it's a dream or not."

Head tilting, "Why's that?"

He nodded in the direction behind her. She turned around and saw the waitress coming over with their food.

Grinning, "Oh, because dream or not, you finally get to eat a burger and fries?"

"Yup."

The waitress set their plates before them, asked if they needed anything, and when they both declined, left them to enjoy their meal.

"So," Veronica asked, stealing a fry from his plate, "what's next?"

"Dessert."

"You know what I mean."

He sighed, "For me…I guess the first thing I need to do is find a job. Not sure who'll hire me though."

"Your record should be clear now," she pointed out.

"Yea but my face being all over the news can't be erased. People won't just forget about me any time soon…I'll have to find someone who doesn't mind that kinda thing."

She shrugged and sipped her wine, enjoying the warm flush it gave her cheeks,"I'm sure there's someone out there who's willing to give you a chance."

"I guess," he agreed, "and as far as," he pointed between the two of them, "us…can we just take it a day at a time?"

Smiling softly, "I'd like that."

With everything that had happened, looking more than a day ahead seemed almost gluttonous. Today was all anyone had for sure, and she didn't see why she couldn't just spend each day in and day out with Lincoln, not worrying about the future beyond that. She'd lived without him for a while and she'd managed just fine; found satisfaction with her job and coasted through living alone with ease, but life was better with him in it. He was alive and with her- here and now, and that was enough.

XXXXXXX

Sara approached Michael from behind. He was seated on the couch with the laptop open and glowing it's bright blue light – the only light left in the living room. It was late; Sara had showered and changed into something more comfortable after the trial, the hot water relaxing her and releasing the tension in her feet from a long day of wearing heels.

He was working on Scylla and she knew he wanted to get it done as soon as possible, but it was late, and he needed to sleep at some point.

She could see the line of tension running along his shoulders as she put both hands on them. He jumped slightly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," she said softly as she planted a kiss on top of his head.

"T's ok," he mumbled, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Think it's time for you to get some sleep?"

"Uh…" his voice trailed off.

"Michael," more sternly now.

"What?"

"You need sleep, you can work on this more tomorrow," she started massaging his shoulders, and that finally seemed to get through to his conscious mind. He dropped his head, letting it fall forward and relaxed a little, sighing, finally seeming to feel the weight of the day.

"Come on," she insisted.

"Alright," he finally agreed, saving a few things and closing the laptop.

She took his hand and led him to bed, not wanting him to change his mind or get side tracked, insisting that he finish, "just one more thing," before retiring to sleep.

He started unbuttoning his shirt, the same one he'd worn to the trial, staring off into space.

"How're you holding up?" she asked as she sat down on the bed. It had been a taxing day to say the least. Lincoln was free, and she knew he was relieved about that, but there was obviously still a lot on his mind.

"He's free," he answered, "finally."

"But?" she prompted as she slid under the covers.

He tossed his shirt aside and shrugged, "But I'm not yet. And you still aren't safe."

She rolled onto her side to face him, only wincing slightly at the bruises still on her ribs. He sat down on his side of the bed with his back against the pillows, his eyes meeting hers, and she saw the worry in them.

"You really think they'd still come after me?"

"Of course they would. Lincoln's freedom has nothing to do with our situation. The General still wants me working for them forever, and you're my weak spot. They know that."

Quietly, with determination, "I'm still going to work tomorrow."

His eyes locked onto hers, challenging, and then he sighed in defeat, "Ok, but just-"

"-be safe. I know. I'll check in with you once I get there." She knew their conversation was entering dangerous territory; it scared him. Hell, it scared her – the possibility of being attacked again, or worse. But the matter was settled, and she was going to work tomorrow.

Wanting to change the subject and get back to safer ground, she asked, "Any progress on Scylla?"

He slid down and under the covers now, and she nestled in beside him, laying her head on his chest.

"I'm almost done. Another day or so…" his voice trailed off.

Sadly, "And then you'll go back to Miami?"

"I have to meet her in person."

Sara nodded in understanding, "When do you think you'll fly out?"

His fingers starting running through her hair absentmindedly and she closed her eyes, relaxing into him, "I was thinking maybe…tomorrow?"

Her heart sank and she snuggled deeper against him, "That soon?"

"If I work on the plane and the rest of the night in Miami," he paused to gather his thoughts, "I could potentially finish it tomorrow and then meet Christina the next day."

She let that reality sink in, thinking about going to work and coming home to an empty apartment. It didn't take long before her mind lurched even further ahead, wanting to know what would happen after his dealings were done.

She asked simply, "And then?"

After a moment, "And then you'd be safe, and I can come back here…if that's what you want."

She tried not to let her mind linger on the implied murder of the General, and focus instead on the idea of Michael being back here in her arms in just a few days. She scooted up a bit and kissed his cheek as her reply.

They lay in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

"What are you going to do after all this?" she asked.

"Like for work?"

"Yea."

"Well, I'll have the money from Scylla to get us through while I find something."

"Oh my God," she remembered with a nervous laugh, "yea, I think millions of dollars will get us through until you find something."

He chuckled now, "You don't have to work if you don't want to. We could buy a house, invest some of it…"

Shaking her head, "No, I still want to work at Fox River."

She could still feel him smiling.

"What?" she asked with a laugh.

"Millions of dollars and you still want to be a prison doctor."

She sat up and propped herself on her elbows, a few loose strands of hair framing her face, "I want to help," she said with conviction, "I can't sit at home and do nothing while people out there aren't getting the medical care they deserve. It should be a basic human right but the way most inmates are treated I just-"

He cut her off with a kiss, surprising her. Normally when she talked about work and human rights people rolled their eyes or brushed her off. Getting a kiss for it was new.

"I love you," he said once he pulled away.

Still surprised, "I love you too."

After taking a second to regain her footing, she asked, "What about you? Millions of dollars and you still want to work?"

He shrugged, "Sure, but my desire to work is mostly because I'd be bored out of my mind if I didn't."

She chuckled, "That's true."

"Hey," he feigned offense.

"What? You said it, not me," she replied playfully.

With a smile, "You didn't have to agree so fast."

Shrugging, "The whole time you've been here you've either been working, sleeping, or trying to watch a movie and failing miserably."

"Failing?"

"Your mind is always halfway somewhere else."

After a moment, "I'm sorry about that."

"No," shaking her head, "no, I didn't mean it like that I just," she sighed, "I'm glad it'll be over soon."

He met her eyes, "Me too."

XXXXXX

Michael woke up to the sound of Sara's alarm. She had to leave for work and he was glad to be woken up anyways, it would give him more time to work before his flight. He hated leaving already…hated leaving her at all, but his whole mindset was "sooner started, sooner finished." He wanted to get Scylla to Christina and move on with his life.

Lincoln was free; that had been the name of the game for so long. Everything else – Scylla, The General, the deals with Christina, those all came from a place of damage control. He'd needed the life-saving surgery and didn't regret his decision, but the position he was in now…his heart wasn't in it. Sure, the office in Miami was desirable, the apartment was comfortable, but his place was here with Sara, and close to Lincoln. And to Veronica. He smiled, remembering the not-so-subtle way that Veronica had looked at Lincoln when they'd left Fox River. He hoped they worked it out…she was good for him.

Sara was in the shower so he went out to the kitchen and started making coffee for them both. He grabbed his laptop from by the couch and set it on the dining table, plugging it in so it would be good and charged for a solid day of working. He poured a mug for them both and sat down, knowing he couldn't drag his feet any longer and needed to book a flight. With Sara going to work in an hour, he saw no need to stay any longer than necessary, and booked a flight that left around noon. He'd be in Miami a few hours later and have some time in the evening to wrap everything up with Scylla.

He also had to call Christina. He heard the shower turn off and knew he still had a few minutes before Sara would be in the kitchen, but he decided that booking a flight was enough productivity for the moment. He'd call Christina later. For now, he wanted to enjoy the sunrise through the kitchen window, a hot cup of coffee, and every minute he could get with Sara before she had to leave.

As if on cue, he heard footsteps behind him, "G'morning," she greeted, finding the mug for her on the counter and taking a sip.

He wanted to reply, but was hit by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. She leaned back against the counter, her gray slacks, purple shirt, her hair pinned back halfway up. The clean, professional look…all she was missing was the white coat. All of his memories from Fox River came flooding back, every moment he'd spent in the infirmary. It was surreal seeing her before him, Dr. Sara Tancredi, but in her apartment, with him as a free man beside her.

She tilted her head, "You ok?"

"Yea," he snapped out of it, "yea I'm fine. I uh, I booked a flight for noon."

She nodded and lowered her head, obviously not excited by this piece of information.

Softly, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know…just be careful, ok?"

He met her eyes, conveying as much seriousness as he could, "You too."

"I will," she glanced at the clock on the stove, "and I gotta go."

He nodded.

"I'll let you know when I get to work."

"Thank you."

She crossed the kitchen and he stood up, wrapping his arms around her, hating goodbyes. She rested her face against his chest, the perfect fit, and they stood there for a long while, knowing they'd see each other soon but still not wanting to let go. She sighed against him and turned her head up to face him. He kissed her softly, committing it all to memory; the feel of her under his hands, the clean smell of her hair, the warmth of her against him. God help him…it was going to be a rough few days without her.

She pulled back and let her brown eyes find their way to his, "You'll come back as soon as you can, right?"

He tried to find his thoughts again, rein them in from the cloud they were on. If she thought he'd spend any more time in Miami than he had to, she was crazy.

"Oh yea," he managed, "I'll be back before you know it."

XXXXXXX

Aldo sat on the balcony of the nicest hotel room he'd stayed at in years. He'd checked in with his I.D. He'd used a credit card. For the first time in forever he didn't have to hide who he was and only stay at cash only motels.

A knock at the door had him getting up, accepting the tray of breakfast and coffee from the nice young woman at the door. He walked back to the balcony and set it down on the tiny table that was situated between two chairs.

He reveled in the moment, pouring coffee into the small white mug and adding a packet of cream and sugar. The fruit was fresh and looked delicious, the croissants flaky and glistening with butter. He was grateful; but he felt like something was missing.

His mind went back to the mornings at Veronica's place; they'd chat and eat together. The mornings that Sara joined them were extra special, another person to talk to, livening the place up even more. He'd been living on the run, alone, for so long that he'd almost forgotten what it was like to share a living space with another person. He missed it already, but didn't know how to begin making his way into the lives of his sons.

He sipped the coffee, realizing with a small sense of pride that he'd already started. Michael had talked to him at the trial. Lincoln had allowed him to help, even seemed grateful when he was released…in a Lincoln sort of way. Lincoln had met his eyes and nodded. That was all the affirmation he needed to know that Lincoln was grateful. It may not have been a, "we're even now,"nod, but it was a start.

His phone buzzed on the table and he felt a jolt of excitement, hoping it was one of them reaching out to him, but the caller I.D. revealed that it was Gretchen.

He set down his mug, "Hello?"

"Congratulations," she purred, "I saw the news, Lincoln is a free man."

"He is," Aldo confirmed, "but I'm guessing that's not why you called."

"Scylla," she replied simply, "why do I feel like I'm not being kept in the loop anymore?"

"Because it's out of my hands now."

Slowly, "What?"

"Michael is finishing it on his own…selling it to Christina. It's not what I wanted either, but he's made his choice. I can't change his mind on this."

"No," she said firmly, "Christina!? He cannot sell it to her."

Cautiously, "Why?"

Exasperated, "She's worse than Krantz! I don't know what she's planning, but with the power that Scylla will give her…Aldo, please tell me this is a joke."

Wary now, "It's not. But Michael won't listen to me. Krantz hurt Sara, and I-"

"-Sara?"

"His girlfriend."

He could practically hear the eye roll, "That's what this is about? The general slaps around his girlfriend a little so he sells Scylla to the highest bidder so that what, the General will stop coming after her? He'll just come after her even harder-"

"-not if Krantz is dead."

Silence. Then after a moment, "Christina? She's killing him after she gets Scylla?"

"That is the deal that was made, yes. And for the record, Sara ended up in the hospital. He has a right to be concerned."

More silence, contemplating, "This is bad."

"It's not my first choice either, but it's what's happening."

"No, this is bad," she emphasized, "The General is a business man. He's greedy, cold and calculating, but his interest is controlling the economy, of gaining power and money and keeping The Company going. He takes pride in employing the finest minds in the world, and putting them to work."

"What's your point?"

"Christina doesn't give a damn about The Company. She's manipulative and self-centered. She does whatever is in her best interest. I hate to say it…never thought I would," she paused, "but I'd rather have Krantz in charge."

That gave Aldo pause. He knew that Gretchen's distaste for Krantz was bone deep and unrelenting. For her to say that Krantz still won out over Christina despite that distaste held some real weight as far as he was concerned.

"Look," she continued, "can you at least promise me that you'll tell Michael?"

After a moment, rubbing his eyes, "Yea, yea I'll tell him what you said. But like I said, I can't guarantee anything. He can be pretty stubborn."

"I gathered that. Let me know if he needs more convincing- I'll talk to him myself if you want."

"Will do," he clicked his phone shut. The breakfast in front of him suddenly didn't look appealing.

Who was he to tell Michael what to do? He knew how it would look; the ex-husband throwing dirt on the ex-wife. Christina was his mom- a mom who, despite leaving them for so many years, had saved his life and held up her end of every deal she'd made with him so far.

She's manipulative and self-centered. Gretchen's words replayed in his mind.

That's how he remembered her too, but what did Michael remember about Christina? Baking cookies and playing kickball? Happy Christmases and birthdays together? Or was it a less happy picture in his mind that he'd chosen to overlook, allowing her the chance to re-enter his life in a positive light. If that was the case, maybe Aldo had a chance too…if Michael offered a second chance to one parent, he'd certainly do the same for the other…right?

He gulped his coffee and set the mug down on the tray, knowing that his mind was starting to spiral and it wouldn't help anything. He had to call Michael and offer Gretchen's insight. What he chose to do with that information – well, it was his choice.

XXXXXX

Sara got to her car, which was parked outside her apartment, and opened the door. Just knowing that Michael would be gone when she got back from work had a sort of emptiness seeping into her day, and she didn't like that for a couple of reasons. The first was obvious; she was going to miss him while he was away. The second was her stubborn reluctance to let go of her independence. She'd been single and living on her own for years and now she couldn't stand a few days alone?

A deep breath and a shake of her head helped get herself into doctor mode as she got behind the wheel and pulled away from her apartment. She allowed her mind to wander ahead and towards work, thinking about everything that might be waiting for her when she got back. She welcomed the idea of a busy day, knowing that it would keep her mind off of everything else and maybe even keep her there late. She'd come home after dark, eat a quick meal and go to bed, too exhausted to do anything else. That was the hope anyways.

She enjoyed the familiar route into work. With a spark of excitement, she realized she could stop by her favorite coffee spot on her way in, but would that expose her to unnecessary risk? Did The Company know about her favorite place? She knew what Michael would say…but the coffee was so good. She could practically feel it warming her belly. She sighed and made the responsible decision of waiting for the day when Scylla was done and Krantz was gone. Then she could stop there every day for a week if she wanted to.

During the rest of her drive in, she caught herself gazing into the rearview mirror a few more times than normal. It was tough to shake the feeling that someone might be after her.

She pulled up to Fox River and parked in her usual spot.

"Morning doc," the guard at the gate greeted with a nod of his head.

"Morning," she replied with a smile, honestly happy to be back.

Her hand plunged into her bag and found her phone, dragging it out to text Michael, "Here safe."

"Parked or inside?" he replied in a second.

She shook her head, but smiled, "Parked and walking in now."

"Ok. Hope it's a good first day back."

"Thanks. Have a safe flight. Let me know when you land."

"I will."

Satisfied that they'd both been checked up on, she pulled open the door and walked down the familiar maze of white hallways to the infirmary.

"Sara!" she heard in a familiar voice.

"Katie! Hey, how are you?"

"Beyond glad to have you back," she replied, shaking her head, "these cons don't know how lucky they are to have you. Neither did I," she replied with a stressed laugh.

"How've things been going?"

"Organized chaos," she answered, falling into step beside Sara.

"Any serious injuries or conditions that I can't handle here…they're being sent to a nearby hospital."

"Which one?"

Her eyebrows raised, prompting Sara to answer her own question.

"Ah…that hospital."

"You got it," she confirmed.

There were a couple of hospitals nearby, and one was notoriously terrible. She wasn't surprised that they'd sent the inmates there, but she certainly wasn't looking forward to cleaning up the mess that the incompetent doctors had left for her. Maybe incompetent wasn't the right word…indifferent was more accurate. They didn't seem to care much about their work, which made her work twice as tough – going over everything that had already been done to double check it all.

They rounded the corner and she opened her office door, seeing a stack of files on her desk that was laughably high, threatening to fall over at any moment.

She looked at Katie with a smile and gestured to it, "Really?"

Katie shrugged and laughed, "And that's what's left after I stayed late last night trying to get rid of some of it."

Sighing, "Well, I really appreciate it."

"It's no problem-"

"-No," she cut her off, "seriously. I really appreciate you helping out so much while I've been gone."

Katie met her eyes and nodded, knowing that she meant it.

"As penance," Sara continued, "I won't leave until every piece of paperwork is off my desk."

That earned a laugh, "So in other words, you'll be eating take-out in here for dinner for the next week?"

After a moment of contemplation, "Pretty much."

Yelling and footsteps in the hallway got both of their attention.

"We need help out here!" a guard yelled as they rounded the corner, two guards carrying an injured inmate, his leg covered in blood and bent at a horrible angle.

Her hopes confirmed; she was going to be here a while.