"What's that?" Michael asked, glaring at the syringe in Roger's hand. He was inside now, sitting on the couch and staring out the window, trying to formulate an escape plan. Roger had appeared next to him.

"Just an antibiotic, try to relax."

"I don't know what kind of fool you take me for," he jumped up, "but you're not injecting me with anything."

The guards glanced over, stepping inside and starting to make their way over.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Naturally, he chose the hard way and in a flash the guards were at his sides, restraining his arms until they had him face down on the floor. He felt the poke, felt the world grow heavy, slipping away into darkness.

X

Michael awoke on the bed laying on his back, fully clothed, and on top of the sheets. He sat up and noted the early morning light seeping through the window. He felt strangely at peace, a heavy calmness that was bone deep, his mind a pool of still water.

A man in a sweater vest and khaki pants walked in. Michael took in his face, acknowledging its familiarity.

"Good morning, Michael. My name is Roger, how're you feeling?"

He paused to consider the question a moment, "Okay I think."

"Come, sit with me," he nodded towards the living room and Michael followed, taking a seat opposite him.

"Tell me, what do you remember about yesterday?"

"Yesterday," he echoed slowly, realizing that his mind was moving about as fast as molasses.

Roger handed him a photo album, "Does this look familiar?"

He took it, feeling the weight in his hands, "Yes, I looked at pictures from when I was a kid."

"That's right," he encouraged, "your mother gave it to me to give to you, do you remember why?"

"Because," he thought back, "because we're supposed to work together. On Scylla."

"Right again, you're recovering very well, Michael. How about we have a longer session today. Does that sound alright?"

Michael stared at his trustable face, his mind strangely blank, "Alright."

XXXXX

Sara sat on the couch, staring at the browning fruit before her. Her foot bounced up and down, an outlet for the constant current of anxiety coursing through her body.

The beep of her phone startled her, but she reached to grab it.

It was a text, reading, "5416 Grand St. 1 hour."

It was from an unknown number. She grabbed her bag and headed out the door anyways.

X

She made it to the address and stayed outside. The building was a business park of sorts, and since she was given no other information, she decided outside was best. She could only assume that whoever had summoned her knew what she looked like, and they'd see her.

She sat by a water fountain, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, and looked around, sweeping the area repeatedly.

A pay phone nearby started ringing and she ran to answer it. She couldn't even get out a, "Hello?" before a van came to a screeching halt beside her. Two men grabbed her by the arms and put a bag over her head, stuffing her in the backseat.

It was hot; her breath causing the inside of the bag to be uncomfortably warm. No one spoke. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as she waited, feeling the movement of the vehicle and the road beneath the tires.

What felt like a few blocks away they came to a stop, and the bag was removed, allowing fresh air to touch her face.

Next to her was Lisa, the General's daughter.

"Sorry for the dramatics, but I can't be seen helping you."

Helping? She thought silently, wondering if she'd heard correctly.

Lisa handed her a piece of paper, her crystal blue eyes meeting Sara's, "Michael is being held here, it's about sixty miles northeast of town."

Sara stared at the address in front of her, "What's being done to him?"

Soberly, "They're carving out his personality, that's how they recruit."

"Recruit?"

Nodding, "They want Michael to work for the Company."

Her mind raced, "Carving out his personality…how?"

Softly, "Drugs, hypnosis…" she shrugged, "whatever it takes."

"So what," she struggled to form the right question, "I mean-"

"-normally they just persuade the target to join, and often people agree of their own volition. However, with Michael they seem to think it'll take more…aggressive efforts."

Probably right about that, she thought. No way would Michael agree on his own.

"I overheard them discussing memory loss, making him forget everything that's happened since he first became an engineer," Lisa admitted.

Slowly, "Everything?"

Lisa looked down, "When they're done with him, as far as Michael is concerned, he recently graduated with an engineering degree and is joining forces with Christina to oversee Scylla operations."

"Christina?"

"His mom."

Her heart sank, "She's…alive?"

Nodding.

"And everything that happened between college and now?"

"He won't remember."

He won't remember me. She gulped.

Lisa nodded towards the piece of paper, "You're wasting time."

After a moment to consider, "How do I know you're not lying."

She smirked, "Just because I work for the Company doesn't mean I like how it operates," she touched Sara's arm, "no one deserves what he's going through."

XXXXXX

The General dialed his phone.

"Hello?" Roger answered.

"Just checking in, any progress?"

"Significant progress, sir."

Nodding, "That's good to hear; do you have a timeline?"

"I'd say by tomorrow, maybe the day after he'll be ready to start working."

"Just so we're clear, what will his mental state be when he's returned to us?"

"Well, like you asked, he won't remember a thing about Lincoln's case or his time at Fox River. He's being taken back to being a fresh graduate, eager to start working."

Satisfied, "And his relationship with Christina?"

"He won't remember her fake death- they'll be on good terms."

He moved towards the window in his office, "I worry about Sara and Lincoln interfering."

"That won't be a problem, sir."

"Oh?"

"New technique. I've developed a way to short circuit the brain, hypnosis essentially, combined with the drugs, but he'll only be able to form new memories that relate to the Company and his work with Scylla. Everything else- relationships, memories…it'll be wiped clean every time he goes to sleep."

Interested now, "Has this been done before?"

Reluctantly, "No, sir, this is the first patient…but you insisted on drastic measures."

"Very well," he paused, "let's just hope it works."

XXXXXX

"Yea?" Lincoln answered Sara's call.

"I have an address, can you come with me?"

"On my way," he drove to her hotel and met her outside. She got into his black S.U.V and they wasted no time hitting the road.

She sat silently in the passenger seat, her gaze out the window, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"How'd you get the address?" he asked, pulling out into traffic.

"Lisa."

Surprised, "General's daughter?"

"Mhmm."

After a moment, "She say anything else?"

Quietly, "She said they're recruiting him. They want him to work for the Company and they're carving out his personality. Wiping his memory."

He blew out a breath, not sure what to say to that. He already knew, thanks to his conversation with Christina, but hearing it from Lisa too confirmed Michael's fate.

Sara was looking at him now, eyes narrowed, "What?"

He averted his eyes, putting them back on the road, "Christina said the same thing."

"You talked to her?"

"Yesterday."

"And you...you didn't think that was worth mentioning?"

He'd considered telling Sara, and he would have, but yesterday after his conversation with Christina he needed time to think. Unfortunately, his time alone contemplating how to save Michael had yielded nothing, so when Sara called and said she had an address….well, here they were.

"I was, but I didn't want to say anything until I had a solution."

She turned back away, looking out the window.

"It's gonna be alright," he finally offered, "we're on our way to him now."

"What if we're too late?"

He shrugged, "We have to try."

X

Sixty miles later, they pulled up the long driveway leading to a cabin, as promised.

Sara got out and saw that Lincoln had a gun tucked under his jacket.

Good.

Not a moment later, two guards started approaching them, "This is private property."

"We're here to see Michael," she stated, unwavering.

They exchanged glances, and the taller, bald one said, "Wait here."

A moment later he returned with another man – older and better dressed, who approached Sara with an outstretched hand, "Sara, I presume?"

"Uh, yes," she took his hand, "and you are?"

"Roger, Michael's psychiatrist."

Uh huh, she thought suspiciously, wondering if this was the man carving out his personality.

"We're here to see Michael."

"Ah, yes," he nodded, "I'm afraid…uh-"

"-Let us see him," Lincoln interrupted with an angry bite.

Behind him, the door to the cabin opened, Michael standing in the frame.

He's alive, she thought with relief, he's ok.

Michael smiled, "Hey, Linc! What're you doing here?"

Lincoln pushed past Roger and gave Michael a brotherly hug, "Just making sure you're alright, man."

Michael looked confused, "Yea, I'm fine! Great actually, I start work on Monday."

Lincoln paused. Sara approached softly behind him, gravel crunching beneath her feet.

Michael's eyes darted to her. They registered nothing.

"Oh, sorry I didn't-" he looked at Sara, then to Lincoln, as if looking for an explanation-an introduction.

When Lincoln was too confused to offer one, he extended a hand to her, "I'm Michael."

Her chest constricted, a lump the size of Texas suddenly in her throat. She shoved it down and took his hand, "Sara. Nice to meet you."

X

"He's gone, Lincoln. We're too late," Sara's voice was thick as they shut the doors to the S.U.V., the heaviness surrounding her palpable.

He seemed at a loss for words, then asked, "Why do you think he remembered me and not you?"

Her eyes darted towards him, looking hurt.

"I didn't mean it like that," he rephrased, "I just mean…if they wanted to wipe the slate clean and start him completely over, he wouldn't remember me either."

"Lisa said they were wiping his memory back to when he finished college," she shrugged, "he knew you before then, but not me."

"Huh," he started the engine as they both sat contemplating, "he comes home tomorrow though. We can help him."

Hopelessly, she asked, "How? God knows what they've done to his mind. Not only with this, he had brain surgery! They might have done more than just remove the tumor."

Lincoln glanced over at her, "He'll remember you. He has to."

Her eyes open and vulnerable, "What if he doesn't?"

XXXXX

Michael woke up feeling excited. Today, he got to go to his new apartment, a whole day to settle in before starting work the next day. The cozy cabin would be a thing of the past, and he'd be on to his next adventure.

He looked forward to working with his mom; they'd often built things together when he was growing up. It was a passion they both shared, and now he'd be able to help her on a global scale. It was an honor, really.

"Morning, Roger," he greeted as he exited his bedroom.

"Good morning, Michael. Sleep well?"

"Excellent, thank you."

"Good, good. Quick question for you."

Michael shrugged, "Fire away."

"Yesterday, the guards mentioned a few visitors- a man about your height and a woman, slender with auburn hair. Do you remember seeing them?"

He thought for a moment, answering with a confident, "No, no I don't remember anyone coming by."

He nodded, then waved a dismissive hand, "That's great. Unimportant. We also discussed a few things regarding Scylla yesterday, the responsibilities you'll be taking over tomorrow. You remember?"

"Yes," he nodded enthusiastically, "I'll be aiding Christina in implementing a system that can yield potable water in seconds."

"Yes, you will," Roger patted his shoulder, "why don't you have some breakfast, and then we'll be on our way to your new place."

"Sounds good."

XXXXX

Michael got to his new apartment and looked around. It was bright and sunny inside with soft white walls and tan tile. The kitchen was simple, with oak cabinets and a black refrigerator.

He sighed with contentment. This was home now.

He hadn't been there for ten minutes when there was a knock at the door. Confused but intrigued, he walked over and peered through the peep-hole to see a tall, slender woman on the other side. She wore jeans and a gray tank top, her auburn hair draped over her shoulders.

He opened it, "Can I help you?"

She stammered a bit, "I uh…I'm Sara, we met the other day?"

He furrowed his brow; he certainly would've remembered if he did. Then Lincoln appeared behind the woman.

"Linc?" he smiled, surprised, "what're you doing here?"

It had been a long time since he'd seen his brother.

"Came to see how you were doing," he offered, stepping forward.

Michael patted his back, "Making sure I'm ready for my first day on the job?"

Lincoln's eyes were more serious than normal, "Something like that."

Michael sensed that something was off, his eyes darting between Lincoln and Sara, still wondering how he'd met her the other day and didn't remember. Maybe they'd all gone out for drinks and he had a rough night? But he didn't remember going out at all, so that couldn't be it…

"So, uh…" he stammered, trying not to be insensitive but needing to know, "are you two…?" He pointed back and forth. Lincoln had a tendency to casually date a lot of women, and maybe she was one of them.

Sara's eyes widened, "No, we're-"

"-we just," Lincoln butted in, "we're friends, and we're here about you…there's something we need to talk about."

He agreed and let them in, "Yea, you look more serious than I've seen you in years. So what's the problem, Linc?"

They gathered in the kitchen; the counters formed an "L" and Michael leaned his back against the bar portion of it. Lincoln stood next to the oven and Sara hung back, slightly behind Lincoln with her arms crossed over her chest.

"So…," Michael started, "what's this about?"

Lincoln didn't waste any time, "You can't work for the Company."

He laughed, "Come on, don't be jealous."

Shocked, "Jealous?"

Michael shrugged, "I'll be working with mom on a global engineering marvel…and you'll be doing whatever the hell you do. Probably getting into trouble…"

Lincoln grunted, "That's not what I mean. They're bad people, Michael, they set me up. We were both in prison; we've nearly died because of them. More than once."

Michael didn't know what kind of game he was trying to play. Just because he'd made something of himself, Lincoln was really stooping this low? He watched Sara, still confused as to who she was and why she was there, and simply responded, "I was never in prison."

"Yes you were," Sara answered in almost a whisper, then obviously felt all eyes on her, "Fox River in Illinois."

He finally asked, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"I'm the doctor at Fox River."

"So," he tried putting it together, "no offense, but that still doesn't explain why you're here."

Sara looked at Lincoln, who simply lowered his head, handing the reins over to her.

"It's true that we met the other day," she started, "but we spent a lot of time together before that too."

Confused, "Okay?" Prompting further explanation.

She pulled out her phone, did a few swipes and taps and then held the screen up for him to see. He leaned in to see a picture of the three of them, somewhere warm and tropical. Sara was kissing his cheek and he was smiling, Lincoln making a silly face. He didn't remember that at all.

"When?"

"A while back, in Panama," she answered, "we're together, Michael."

His eyebrows raised, "Dating?"

She nodded.

He still couldn't shake the feeling that he was the butt end of a practical joke, "If any of this is true then why don't I remember?"

"That's what we're trying to tell you," Lincoln replied, "the Company wiped your memory after they did surgery on your brain."

"Brain surgery?"

Sara stepped forward and took his hand, raising it to the back of his head, and guiding his fingers over a few small scabs.

Hmm.

Sara leaned back slightly but was still well within his personal space. She lingered there, her eyes searching his.

Bluntly, "Are we really dating?"

Unwavering, "Yes."

"How can I know this isn't all a joke?"

She was so close now he could feel the warmth of her body next to his, offering a soft, "I'll do whatever I have to to make you believe it."

He searched her face again, looking for any signs of untruth. He didn't find any. He looked again at Lincoln who was staring at the floor like his life depended on it.

Quietly, "That won't be necessary."

She looked disappointed. Hurt.

This wasn't a joke.

X

Lincoln pulled Sara aside as Michael started unpacking and settling into his apartment.

"Would you be able to stay with him today?" he asked her.

A whisper, "He doesn't even know me."

"He's got to remember...have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"Amnesia patients, sure, but it can be incredibly difficult to know what if anything will help get his memory back."

"We can't leave him alone like this."

She watched him, competently arranging things in the kitchen like any normal person, "He seems fine aside from the memory loss...like he remembers everything about how to live normally aside from the past couple years."

"But this isn't who he is."

Solemnly, "I know," she ran a hand through her hair, "but if I stay here, what're you going to do?"

"Mahone called a few times, they're all wondering where I am."

"What're you going to tell them?"

Honestly, "I don't know yet...but Michael is my biggest concern and honestly I think you're his best shot."

"But he remembers you, not me."

"He remembers the me that was always getting into trouble," a smirk, "may be hard to believe, but when Michael was fresh out of college I spent a lot of time doing stupid stuff. He didn't respect me at all, so if I'm trying to convince him that this is all real, he probably won't believe me."

She considered silently, "What am I supposed to do?"

Lincoln shrugged, "You'll figure it out. You're a doctor and you know him better than anyone. I know he'll be safe with you."

Her heart melted a bit at the sentiment, and Lincoln was out the door before she could protest any further. She wanted to spend time with Michael, obviously, but the man organizing the kitchen wasn't the Michael she knew. It was odd, knowing him intimately but knowing that he didn't know a damn thing about her.

She approached him.

"Lincoln leave?"

"Yea he uh," she waved a hand, "has some business to attend to."

"He always does."

"Can I help?" she asked, gesturing towards the box full of dishes and utensils.

A nod, "Sure."

They worked together silently, and she resisted the urge to get too close. The instinct to place a hand on his back, to brush against him from time to time was strong- a habit, but she fought against it, not wanting to push too hard too fast.

Her heart ached.

"I'm sorry I don't really know what to say about all this," he offered finally, stacking plates into the cupboard.

A nervous laugh, "Yea, me neither."

Still facing the cupboard, "What happened to me?"

She stopped what she was doing and he did too, turning towards her,"You did have brain surgery to remove a tumor. The Company performed the operation, but for your recovery they took you to a cabin-"

"-I remember the cabin."

She nodded, "and they likely injected you with drugs and...manipulated you somehow."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because otherwise you would never agree to work for them."

He considered this for a moment, "But why not? It's a dream job for any engineer."

She sighed, how could she explain this without sounding like a crazy conspiracy theorist?

"The Company is fairly...aggressive in how they handle things. They kill people who stand in the way of their bottom line. They lie. They cheat. You wouldn't want to work for someone like that."

"Hmm," he considered this, then asked, "why did they want me specifically? Why go to so much trouble to recruit me?"

She was grateful he hadn't shut down yet, and that he was asking questions. She gave a small chuckle, "Because you're kind of a genius."

That earned a smile, an "aw shucks" look that she found adorable.

"Am I?" he replied with false modesty.

She gave a playful slap on his arm.

Their smiles faded and he grew more serious, "I like you," he stated, seeming to have finally reached that conclusion after their rocky start, "you're not lying about how we know each other? About how much time we've spent together?"

Her eyes locked onto his, "I'm not."

He nodded, considering, then slowly inched forward, closer to her. Her heart thudded loudly, her mind starting to spin. Slowly, painfully slowly, he approached her, placing his hands on her hips, trying to gauge her reaction. She had no doubt that if she'd flinched or pulled away he would've stopped, claiming his victory that this was all a clever ruse. But she didn't. She forced herself to stand still, allowing him to come to her.

He leaned closer, still waiting for her to stop him. It took every ounce of strength for her to wait, letting him set the pace, not wanting him to lose his nerve and back away.

Finally, he pressed his lips to hers. It felt so familiar yet had the nerves of a first kiss, because for him-it was. She more than met him halfway, and he seemed to finally believe that it was ok for him to touch her, to kiss her.

Her arms raised, hands coming to rest on either side of his face, feeling his cheeks beneath her thumbs. He pulled away too soon, staring at her with intense blue eyes.

"Can you tell me about us?"

She smiled, "I'll tell you everything."