A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews! Glad you're having as much fun with this as I am ;)
XXX
The morning had gone about as well as expected; the video seemed to help, bringing him up to speed faster than she ever could on her own. He headed off to work, giving her kiss goodbye that was only slightly uncertain, and left her to carry on with her day.
She walked down the block from his apartment and got a coffee, dark and bold, sipping its warmth as she continued walking towards the apartment that Lincoln and the gang were using. It was too far to walk the whole way, but she didn't feel like sitting in a stuffy cab just yet; instead, inhaling the fresh air and feeling the wind play with her hair as it bopped against her back with each step.
When she arrived there and walked in, she saw Patrick standing by the sliding door, donning the same three-piece suit, and talking to Mahone, which she took as a good sign. If he was back, they must have some more information about Roger, right?
Patrick turned and saw her walk in, "Welcome back," he greeted with a smile, "you'll be happy to know, we've found an address for Roger."
She appreciated his forwardness, "You did? Where?"
"He has a practice on the south side of town, we're planning on heading over today."
"I'm coming with you," she stated, not asking.
Patrick exchanged a quick glance with Mahone, who shrugged, indifferent.
"Absolutely," he agreed, "the more the merrier."
"So how are you going to do it? Get him to tell you how to break Michael's trace or," she waved a hand, "whatever."
Proudly, "I'll hypnotize him, of course."
"You…you're going to hypnotize a hypnotist."
Confidently, "Yes."
"You don't think he'll know what you're doing?"
Patrick waved a hand, "He'll be too busy figuring out how to manipulate us to realize that I'm manipulating him."
"Huh," she pondered, twirling the opal ring on her index finger absentmindedly. She felt Patrick's gaze fall upon it.
"Can I see that?"
It took her a moment to realize he was referring to her ring. Confused, she slipped it off and handed it to him.
"It's perfect," he declared, childlike enthusiasm.
"Perfect for what?"
She caught Mahone eavesdropping, curious as well.
Patrick thought for a moment, tapping his sealed lips with his finger, deep in thought. He met her eyes, "Are you a good actress?"
Startled, "I…uh-" she thought back to the bits of acting she had to do while perusing Scylla; making friends with the maid at the bus stop, distracting a guard or two…but deceiving wasn't her favorite activity, no matter how useful it might be, "not really," she evaded, not wanting to get roped into anything.
He examined her, then chuckled, "Terrible liar."
Her eyes widened.
"It's a compliment," he assured, "good, honest people are terrible liars."
"Why do you ask?"
"I need a partner of sorts, part of the ruse with Roger."
"He's seen me already," Sara pointed out.
Pausing, "That's true…" his eyes roamed the room, searching for another volunteer, and came to rest on Gretchen.
"What about you?" he asked her, "good liar?"
Her red lips formed a smirk.
Patrick grinned.
X
Gretchen sat with Patrick in the backseat; Lincoln drove them to Roger's office with Sara in the passenger seat, no doubt listening in on the plan that Patrick was explaining to her. They spent the drive over rehearsing what they were going to do, and she caught on with ease, trusting her instincts and ability to improvise as needed.
They parked at Roger's office, and Gretchen and Patrick got out. She smoothed her black pencil skirt and tugged her jacket down, her heels clicking on the pavement as they entered the building.
"Good morning," the receptionist greeted.
He took the lead, leaning on the counter, "My name is Patrick, I'm here with my fiancé for an appointment at 10:30."
The receptionist clicked the keyboard, "Ah, yes, Patrick here you are. Please take a seat, he'll be with you shortly."
"Thank you," he replied courteously as they moved to sit down.
Gretchen crossed one leg over the other, taking in the room's combination of tans and blues. She questioned, not for the first time, why she was still here; they weren't after Scylla anymore and if the General could be trusted, Emily would be left alone.
But that was it – she didn't trust him. Lincoln's thirty second phone call wasn't quite enough to convince her that they were really in the clear. And without any other pressing matters, she figured it best to stick around, help with Michael if she could, and maybe have some fun in the process.
Helping to undo the Company's work on Michael's brain did have its own charm; sticking it to the man, proving they could best him. She could picture the General's face, his frustration if they were successful.
The thought had the corners of her mouth turning up slightly, a twinkle in her eye.
The door opened, and a man poked his head out, "Patrick and Gretchen?"
They got up and followed him back to another room.
"Please have a seat, make yourself comfortable," Roger offered and they both obliged. They took the couch, with Roger in a chair directly across from them. Sun shone through the window between the blinds as they situated themselves. Patrick had instructed her to keep her distance, lean slightly away and turned from him, closing her body language; they were supposed to be engaged, but unhappily engaged. Their movements needed to reflect that.
"So," Roger began, "tell me why you're here."
Patrick looked at her, then took the lead, "Well, we're ah, we're having some issues," he admitted vaguely.
"What kind of issues?" he prompted.
Patrick looked at Gretchen again, putting on a show of hesitancy, "My fiancé and I, we…" he grabbed her hand. She flinched slightly. "We have a difference of opinion when it comes to-"
"-I hate the ring he got me," she interrupted bluntly.
Roger's eyes widened for a second before he trained his expression back to neutral, "Your engagement ring I assume?"
"Yea, it's awful. Not my style at all."
"Babe-"
"-it's not," she barked back, "it's like you've never seen any of the other jewelry I wear."
"But this one was my mother's, you know that," he softened, sad puppy eyes, then looked at Roger, "she passed earlier this year and I just know she would've loved for my lady here to have it."
Gretchen was enjoying herself; Patrick was quite the capable sparring partner – she almost felt bad about his made-up dead mother and her stupid ring. He was very convincing.
She rolled her eyes, "Show it to him."
Patrick hesitated.
"Go on, you carry the damn thing around, showing it off to everyone…"
Roger gave a small nod, encouraging him as Patrick dipped a hand into his suit pocket and pulled out Sara's opal ring.
"You see that?" Patrick asked as he held the ring closer, leaning forward. Roger humored him, leaning forward as well, "see the way the light hits it? Shines as it moves back and forth," he tilted the ring, sunlight glimmering off the stone, "back and forth."
His voice was soothing. Mellow. Gretchen felt herself relax despite being in on the con and knowing what was happening.
"Who wouldn't like this? Right?" he asked, slow and melodic, "it's like liquid sunshine, one look and it can make anyone ten times more relaxed."
"Mhmm," Roger agreed, his eyes not leaving the ring.
"When we're relaxed it's so easy to tell the truth," his eyes never left Roger, "and I need to ask you a few questions- questions you won't remember once we leave here. Your mind is drifting away, sinking lower and lower to a place of complete calm. Just you and me."
"Mhmm," Roger repeated, his eyes only half open.
Gretchen was impressed in spite of herself. She'd never seen someone hypnotize another so quickly and without the addition of drugs. She didn't move a muscle, not wanting to break the trance or mess him up. She kept her breathing even and slow, watching as he continued.
Roger slouched in the chair, his eyes trained on the ring that Patrick held as he asked, "You recently worked with a man named Michael Scofield, is that correct?"
"Yes."
"You helped in his recovery after brain surgery."
"Yes."
"You gave him drugs, influenced him to forget parts of his past."
"Yes."
"Why?"
A pause. Roger flinched, just barely, and didn't respond.
Patrick moved on, "There's a way to break Michael's trance. A phrase?" He watched Roger's face intensely, "a word?"
Gretchen watched Patrick watching him, wondering what he saw. After another moment, Patrick asked, "a physical cue?"
Gretchen didn't see anything about Roger change, no indication of an answer, but Patrick obviously saw something, nodding his head with a near silent, "Ah."
"What is that cue?" Patrick asked.
Roger squinted, looking genuinely confused, "I don't…I don't know," he replied with a slight slur, his words coming from a deeply relaxed state.
"That's ok, don't reach for it," Patrick soothed, "don't reach. It's right there, let it come to you."
"I can't…I can't remember."
"Maybe a touch on his shoulder, a pat on his arm," Patrick supplied, still watching Roger's every move, looking for a micro-expression to give him away, "anything at all. Tell me what you remember."
Long silence, then another, "I don't know."
Patrick exhaled a short huff, then stood up, indicating for Gretchen to do the same. He grabbed Roger's right hand from his lap, shook it firmly and slapped the back of his hand with his left, "Lovely chatting with you Doctor," he praised in a chipper, sharper voice, "thank you so much for all your help."
Roger jumped slightly and blinked a few times, obviously a bit lost, but managed an, "Absolutely, I uh…glad I could help."
"Oh, you did more than that," he grinned, "we'll be sure to recommend you to all our friends. You saved our marriage before it even began!"
Gretchen hid her smirk as she followed him out, leaving behind their bewildered psychiatrist. She didn't ask questions while they walked back to Lincoln and Sara, sparing him from having to go over things more than once.
They got in the back seat, Linc and Sara turning around.
"How'd it go?" Sara asked.
"It was interesting," Patrick began, handing her back her ring.
They all waited for him to go on, but he sat in silence, tapping his chin.
"And?" Lincoln asked.
"He couldn't remember the trigger."
Sara's eyes widened, "What does that mean?"
"It's interesting," he said again, lost in thought.
"You said that already," Gretchen chimed in, "but what now? That's it? He said that he worked with Michael and drugged him, influenced him-"
"-he said that?" Sara asked.
"Yes," Patrick replied, "he admitted to that part, but when I asked him for the trigger to wake Michael he genuinely didn't know."
Sara ran a hand through her hair, "So, what now?"
Patrick leaned forward slightly, all eyes on him, "Forgetting something like that, even under hypnosis? My guess is he's been drugged."
"Roger?" Gretchen asked.
"Yes. My guess," Patrick continued, "is that he was drugged, Lorazepam or something similar, to cause the memory loss, and hypnotized into hypnotizing Michael."
Gretchen watched Sara's brows shoot up, skeptical. Sara asked, "You can hypnotize someone…into hypnotizing someone."
"It is possible," he confirmed, "Roger has no history of criminal behavior. When Alex and his buddies at the F.B.I looked into him they had to do a lot of digging. He's never even had a parking ticket. He's a rule follower and based on how easily he went under for me, anyone with even a little bit of experience with hypnosis would've found him to be a very easy target. Once they have him under their influence, they just send him to the cabin with Michael and let the rest play out."
"And now, he doesn't remember how to get Michael out of it," Sara asked.
"No, he answered my other questions so he's not lying…he genuinely can't remember."
Lincoln, "What do we do now?"
Patrick paused, thinking, "Who else in the Company might have the ability to hypnotize someone? The knowledge and the ability to influence?"
Sara offered, "The General is about as manipulative as it gets, but he doesn't like to do much of the groundwork himself."
Patrick nodded, "This person would have to be manipulative, but also trustable. A soft voice, the ability to hold eye contact-"
Lincoln's low voice, "Christina."
Everyone grew quiet.
"Who's that?" Patrick asked.
"Our mom. She works for the Company."
Sara nodded, adding on, "And that would ensure that she got everything she wanted, right? Get Roger to influence Michael and she has the business partner she always wanted."
Gretchen, "But how could she know that the General would pick Roger as the psychiatrist? He's not the only one around."
"Maybe it was part of her deal," Lincoln suggested, "give Michael the surgery and then send her hand-picked shrink to help him recover."
They all sat, contemplating.
"Well, she sounds lovely," Patrick offered with sarcasm, "when do I get to meet her?"
XXXXX
Michael got home from work to an empty apartment. He wondered where Sara was, but didn't want to bother, knowing he was capable of enjoying an evening alone if need be.
He turned on the television and made some dinner, propping his feet up while he ate. The show wasn't really holding his attention as his mind wandered back to work. He loved what he was doing; it was challenging and exciting – had the ability to change millions of lives. Perhaps his favorite part was that it was in the shadows; engineers rarely made the headlines, but they influenced far more than people realized and he was ok with that. No need for fame, just a job he took pride in.
His dinner gone, he re-watched his video from the night before.
"Hi, uh…me. I'm Michael Scofield and I've been having some memory problems, so this is here to try to help you."
A pause, clearing his throat.
"You probably woke up and realized you weren't alone in bed. That's Sara; you're dating her. She's," a smile, shaking his head, "don't do anything to screw that up."
Another break, gathering his thoughts, "Sara and Lincoln both say that the Company, the people you work for, are not who they appear to be. They say they're bad. Dishonest. Evil. I still don't know what to think about this…it's like I'm living two separate lives. When I'm at work, everything makes sense. When I'm with Sara, everything makes sense. But together…" he paused, "those worlds just don't fit together anymore."
He watched himself on the screen, feeling the same pull of duality as he tried to enjoy his evening; missing Sara, but happily letting his mind chew on puzzles from work. Could he have both?
A text notification popped up on top of his screen. He paused the video.
It was Sara, "Hey, sorry I'm not there yet. I can be on my way if that's ok?"
He replied, "Sure, I'll be here."
He swiped back to the video but couldn't bring himself to press play. He felt tired- living two lives apparently had that effect. He turned and laid back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling and waiting for Sara to get home.
X
Sara opened the door to find him lying on the couch- the same couch she'd been pressed against not twenty four hours earlier. He looked so innocent there now; a far cry from the man who'd pleasured her into oblivion the night before. She shoved those distracting thoughts away.
He smiled sweetly at her as he sat up, "Hey."
"Hey," she tossed her bag on the counter and plopped down next to him, "how was your day?"
His arm came up, hand absentmindedly playing with her hair, "It was good."
Something in his tone was off- he sounded deflated.
"Yea?" she questioned, not believing him.
He averted his gaze.
Sternly, "Michael…"
He looked back.
"Tell me."
After some hesitation, he opened his phone, and played a part of his video for her.
"I still don't know what to think about this…it's like I'm living two separate lives. When I'm at work, everything makes sense. When I'm with Sara, everything makes sense. But together…" he paused, "those worlds just don't fit together anymore."
Her chest constricted, "I'm sorry…"
-Sorry for what you're going through. Sorry they did this to you. Sorry I couldn't stop it.-
"It's not your fault, I know this can't be easy for you either."
"It's not," she admitted, "but I'll manage."
"What if you can't?" he asked softly, "or if you don't want to anymore? There's bound to come a time where this is all too much…"
She wrapped a hand around his head, bringing it to her and kissing his temple, "I'm not gonna leave you, ok? No matter what," another kiss, "nothing is gonna come between us."
He sighed, seeming relieved and somewhat convinced, then chuckled, "Bet you didn't think you'd have a significant other with memory loss this early in life."
She smirked, "Well, lucky for you I always kinda liked dealing with that."
"Yea?"
"Yea," she thought back to a few patients from before she worked at Fox River, "they still remember a lot sometimes, can tell stories…sure, sometimes they'd think I was a family member or friend, but I'd let them believe it. It never hurt anything and made them happy. One guy thought I was his wife," she remembered with a chuckle.
"Oh?" he asked with eyebrows raised, "what did he say?"
A smile, "He was in his nineties and the moment I walked into his room he called me Rebecca and asked how the kids were. I played along, told him they were great, whatever. I was checking his vitals and he told me I was just as pretty as the day they took the picture he kept in his wallet. Naturally I asked to see it; he pulled it out and," she grinned, remembering, "it was a black and white picture of a woman in her twenties from way back in the day…she actually did look a lot like me."
A soft smile, "Did he ever realize that you weren't…?"
Waving a hand, "Oh no, he forgot who I was by the next time I came into his room but," she shrugged, "his wife had been gone for at least ten years and in that moment, she was alive again, and he was happy."
He sat silently, thinking, "What if I really am like this forever."
She met his gaze, "I have faith that you won't be."
"How?"
She didn't want to burden him with the details, but offered, "We're working on figuring that out."
"You and Lincoln?"
"And a few others."
Tilting his head, "Care to tell me what you've been up to all day?"
"I could, but…"
"Ah," he sighed, then good-naturedly, "but I'll forget in the morning anyways."
She elbowed him in the ribs, "I wasn't going to say that," then a laugh, "I just don't want you worrying about it. We can handle this, that way you can focus on other things."
"Like what?"
She pecked his lips, "Like making your videos."
X
"Morning," she greeted Michael as he came out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. He'd woken up before her; she heard the shower running and lay in bed awake, waiting for him to come out and see how he was doing.
They'd put a sticky note on the mirror, telling him to watch his videos. The picture from Panama was hanging up as well, along with a few others. It wasn't much, but it did seem to help him remember and come to grips with everything a lot faster.
"Good morning, Sara," he emphasized her name, indicating that he did in fact know who she was, "Sara the doctor at Fox River, a prison I used to be in. Sara who I'm dating and who looks unfairly beautiful in the morning."
She rolled her eyes and gave a laugh, happy that he'd at least told himself a little bit about her. He looked genuinely happy to see her, and that was the first morning for that to happen.
She didn't really believe him about the beautiful part, combing her fingers through her messy hair and getting out of bed. She headed for the bathroom but he stopped her in the doorway; she could feel the cloud of warm air left over from his shower and the scent of body wash lingering.
His hands rested on her hips, his gaze searching hers for a long moment. He exhaled, almost seeming overwhelmed as he lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers.
"You ok?" she asked, running her hands up and down his arms.
"I am," he promised, "I just...I can't believe it."
"What?"
"That I have you. That you're with me through all of this."
She smiled, surprised at his admission.
He smirked, whispering in her ear, "I've heard a lot of good things about you."
"Oh yea?" she played along, feeling the shiver from his breath in her ear, "from who?"
"From me," he kissed her cheek, a low voice, "seems like I'm quite fond of you."
Her mind was spinning from the unexpected affection, catching her completely off guard and if he didn't stop, he might end up being late for work.
Damn, she wanted to see that video now. Before, he'd been friendly but not overly receptive to affection early on, probably taking the day to process everything before being more comfortable around her in the evening, but this was different.
Her quest to take a shower was slowly becoming a thing of the past. His hands still firmly on her hips, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed back, still surprised at his forwardness, and draped her arms around his neck. His skin was still warm from the water, his lips soft.
When she leaned back and looked into his eyes she asked again, "You sure you're ok?" she wasn't complaining at all about this version of Michael, but it wasunusual for him.
With certainty, "I am. In the video yesterday, I told myself to stop wasting time - to stop waiting for everything to make sense and just be grateful for what I have. And honestly aside from work...which may or may not be for an evil corporation...all I have is you."
She smiled, relieved and incredibly proud of him. Starting over each day could cause anyone to spiral, but he was choosing the higher ground, moving forward and enjoying every day regardless of anything else.
"I'm proud of you," she told him.
He smiled, "See, I knew I liked you."
XXX
"We gonna go see Christina or what?" Lincoln asked the group, growing impatient.
"You can't," Mahone retorted, "she'd know something was up if you came along. It'll have to be people she hasn't seen before."
"I could go alone," Patrick offered.
Mahone shook his head, "No one goes anywhere alone, not where The Company is concerned. Everyone travels in pairs."
Patrick grinned, "Buddy system, alright I'm game, but who's my partner this time?"
"If I may," Sara cut in, all eyes turning to her, "before we try Christina, isn't there a chance you could just work with Michael for a bit to see if you could find the trigger?"
Patrick tilted his head side to side, considering.
"I mean," she went on, "aren't there common triggers and phrases that are used? Something you could at least start with?"
Gretchen, "It's probably a physical trigger, right?" she glanced to Patrick, "I saw the way you reacted when you asked Roger."
"Ah, impressive observation," he praised, "yes, when I mentioned a word or phrase Roger didn't respond. He flinched at the idea of a physical trigger, though. Not super helpful, but it does narrow it down. It could still be a word though...or a word and a physical trigger."
"You could try," Mahone encouraged, "I'd rather not go into the lion's den until it's the last option."
Patrick shrugged, "You know me, I'm up for anything. Where's Michael now?"
"At work," Sara replied, "until six."
"Hmm," he tapped his lips, "when is his lunch break?"
"I could find out."
"Let's take him out somewhere, maybe a picnic in the park...somewhere where he feels relaxed."
Sara nodded, "I can arrange that."
XXX
Sara carried the bags of food and walked with Patrick to the park. Mahone came along too, if nothing else than for peace of mind. He had a gun and knew how to use it. She didn't expect the Company to be stalking them on their picnic, but crazier things had happened.
She set the bags down onto a picnic table and read her text, "He said he'll be here in five minutes or so."
Patrick nodded, tugging the collar of his jacket, straightening it.
She set the table with Patrick's help, Mahone standing behind and off to the side, his eyes sweeping the area repeatedly.
The park was lovely; a short walk from Michael's work, with lush green grass, a playground full of kids, and plenty of picnic tables. They were near a large oak tree that provided shade from the hot sun, a gentle breeze and a clear blue sky.
She looked up to see Michael walking towards them and smiled.
He came over to her, his hand lightly touching her arm as he kissed her temple, "Hey."
"Hey," she rubbed his back, "thanks for making this work."
He nodded, then looked over at Patrick, his eyes narrowing in deep thought, "I'm sorry I don't think I remember you-"
"-you've never met him," Sara informed him, not wanting him to worry about forgetting another familiar face, "he's here to help you."
Patrick stepped forward and extended his hand, "I'm Patrick, it's lovely to meet you, Michael."
Michael took it, "Likewise...so...what're you going to do?"
Patrick waved a hand, his casual mood contagious, "Let's not worry about that right now. It's a beautiful day, we can have some lunch and get to know each other a bit first. How does that sound?"
Michael agreed, "Ok."
Sara was grateful for Patrick's take charge attitude- nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers and he always seemed to know what to say. Michael sat down and they all started eating.
"So, Michael," Patrick began, "I hear you're an engineer."
Nodding, "Yup."
"That must be interesting work."
"I think so...most people probably don't."
Grinning, "Most people probably just don't understand it. Math and science are intimidating to a lot of people," he shrugged, "it's hard to be interested in something you don't understand."
Michael considered this, then agreed, "I guess that's true," after a moment, "what about you?"
He set his drink down, "I...eh," he paused, then decided on, "I'm a consultant- usually working with law enforcement to help catch criminals."
"How?"
"A number of ways. Usually involves thinking one step ahead, knowing what makes people tick and figuring out ways to exploit it. Reading people."
"Hmm," Michael considered, "that sounds interesting too."
"It is," he agreed, "not always the most honest work, but it's what I'm good at." Then he looked at Sara, "and you're a doctor?"
"Yea, at the state penitentiary in Illinois."
"Whoa," Patrick's eyes widened, "that must be a handful."
She laughed, "It can be. Most of them aren't bad though - there's always a few troublemakers but I just throw it right back at them. If they wanna play hardball..." she shrugged.
Patrick grinned.
The rest of the meal was filled with more easy conversations on light topics, not wanting to overwhelm Michael or dig too deep into his past. Patrick and Sara kept it flowing if Michael got quiet, and before she knew it, they were packing up their bags again.
Sara looked at Patrick, wondering when the magic was going to start. He caught her eye and nodded, then turned to Michael.
"Michael, why don't we go over to the swings and have a seat on that bench," he pointed to a blue metallic one facing the swing set.
Michael shrugged, "Sure."
The three of them walked over. Michael and Sara sat on the bench, and Patrick crouched in front of Michael.
"Ok, Michael, all I need you to do is relax," he instructed in a soothing tone, "just watch the swings and let go. Let your mind wander. Up and down," he mimicked the swing's motion, "up and down. That's life, right? Ups and downs."
Sara let her eyes un-focus, hearing the creaking of the swings as the children pumped their legs, the slight whooshing of air as they moved.
"Just watching the swings, up...and down."
Sara glanced over to see Michael's gaze fixed on the swings, unblinking.
"You're doing it all on your own now, just watching the swings," Patrick was almost whispering now. He turned to Sara, softly, "I'm going to try to find the trigger now."
Still crouching in front of Michael, he lightly tapped on the side of his upper arm. Nothing. He tapped the outside of his knee. Nothing. He tapped near his hip. Michael exhaled in frustration, squinting.
"It's ok," Patrick soothed, "you're in a trance state, everything is ok."
Michael re-situated and tried to stay calm, but Sara could see that it was a struggle. He was simmering, any minute ready to boil over.
Patrick tapped the back of his hand.
"Stop," Michael demanded in quiet frustration, "just stop, stop messing with me."
"Your reaction is a built in defense mechanism, it's part of the suggestion," he explained, trying to help him realize that no one was hurting him.
"Just stop!" he stood up, agitated, hands shaking, "I need to go."
Calmly, "Where do you need to go to?"
"I need to go back to work."
Before they could protest he was turning on his heels and walking back towards his building. Mahone almost intercepted him, but looked at Patrick who waved a hand, indicating to let him pass. Sara wanted to follow-
"-let him go," Patrick told her, "better to just let him go. His reaction is trying to protect himself. Go after him now and he might hurt you."
"He wouldn't ever-"
"-he wouldn't intentionally, I know that," he assured, "but he's agitated now and under someone else's influence."
She sighed, knowing he was probably right, "So what do we do now?"
"Well, I guess we go back and figure that out."