A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! I love hearing from you all :)
XXXXX
Michael woke up with a start, finding a woman next to him in bed. She was still sleeping, so he snuck slowly out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom, silently clicking the door shut behind him. So many pictures were on the wall, the mirror. He studied them.
Him and Lincoln. Him and the woman in his bed. He was smiling in them.
A sticky note on the mirror, "Watch the videos on your phone."
Eyes narrowing, "What videos?"
He snuck back out and grabbed it from its charger, taking it back to the bathroom. There were loads of videos, but he started with the most recent.
The video was of himself, his face looking drawn, "Hey it's me. I'm tired and getting sick of doing this, but here's the deal. You're having memory loss problems. The woman you woke up next to is Sara. You love her. The company you work for- you like them, no one else does so that's fun. Just…just get through the day. Sara makes you feel better, so listen to her. Don't do anything to scare her away. You're good at your job, so enjoy that…just…just get through the day."
Nothing like a super dreary motivational speech to start the day.
He looked at the still image of himself on the screen, saw how tired he looked-
"-You ok?" Sara asked.
He opened the door, pausing. Honestly, "No, I don't think I am."
Her eyes full of concern, "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," he moved past her and sat on the bed, "I don't know, and that's the problem."
She sat next to him, listening.
"You know how in school, if there was a subject you struggled with…you'd try and it wouldn't click. So, they'd explain it differently and you'd try again and still not get it. You put the effort in, you wanted to understand but it just wasn't making sense. Eventually you'd be so frustrated that you didn't even want to try anymore…like a sinking feeling in your stomach just from the thought of it. I think I'm starting to feel that way about every day."
He looked over- saw the compassion in her eyes, the sadness. She hugged him. He held onto her, a lump in his throat, "I just don't feel right."
"I know," she soothed with an exhale, her hand stroking the back of his head, "but we're trying to fix it. We will fix it. We'll get you back."
Sniffling, "Who's "we"?"
She backed up enough to look him in the eyes, "Me, Linc, and a few other people."
Nodding, "Can I help?"
After a moment, "There is one thing you can do for us today."
"What's that?" he asked, more eager. Action towards solving a problem always made him feel better.
"Don't eat or drink anything that people give you at work."
"Why?"
"They might be drugging you."
Shocked, "Drugging me? For how long?"
Patiently, "A while now, but don't worry-"
"-how can I not worry!?" he felt himself growing agitated, "how is any of this okay?"
"It's not," she agreed, her voice remaining steady, "I just need you to get through today, don't drink anything they give you, and we'll keep trying to figure it out."
A dark laugh, "Just get through the day. Seems like a great outlook on life."
She looked at him, confused.
"That's what I told myself in the video," he sighed, "just get through the day."
XXXX
Lincoln looked up as Sara walked in. She seemed distraught, on edge.
Looking towards her, "You ok?"
The others gathered too.
"Michael…I think this is getting to be too much for him. He got really agitated this morning. Normally he's just confused but today he seemed really bothered by it all."
Gretchen, "Did you do anything differently?"
Shaking her head, "No. He watched the video like normal, and I told him not to take food or drink from anyone."
Patrick asked, "At what point did he get agitated?"
"He was," she searched for the word, "frustrated, from the moment he came out of the bathroom but got angrier after I told him about the drugs."
"What part exactly made him angry?"
She thought back, "When I told him not to worry. That we'd handle it, that we'd find a solution."
"Interesting."
Everyone looked at Patrick, waiting for elaboration. There wasn't any.
Mahone asked, "You think it's another defense mechanism? Like at the park?"
"Could be," he replied, "anything that threatens to break the spell, to stop the drugs or hypnosis…part of the suggestion could be to make those things terribly uncomfortable to him."
"So…do you think he'll listen? Will he avoid the coffee?"
"I mean," Patrick explained, "if he was hypnotized to drink any cup of coffee within ten feet of him we would've noticed by now. My bigger concern is still how to break the trance."
Lincoln, "We need Christina."
"We can't go back to the building," Sara informed them, "the General banished Patrick from ever stepping foot on the premises."
Patrick grinned and shrugged, Mahone lowered his head to hide a smirk.
Lincoln, "So we find her somewhere else, see where she goes after work."
"Does she have a driver?" Mahone asked.
Gretchen, "Top dog like her, I doubt she drives herself."
"We figure out who the driver is, we can track her route for a few days, see if there's any way for us to run into her without raising suspicion."
Patrick, "By "us" you mean me, right? Lincoln, she obviously knows who you are. Gretchen, she may have seen you in passing on Company property…Sara, if Michael has ever mentioned you or shown a picture you're out-"
"-I'll go with you," Mahone volunteered.
"Excellent!"
"We better get eyes on her soon, figure out the best place to get her."
Everyone nodded, ready to get back to work.
XXX
Michael sat in the meeting room, staring at the projected image in front of him. Not everyone was there yet, so he waited.
Paul came up behind him, "Got some coffee for ya," and sat it down next to him.
"Thanks," he replied, but didn't move towards it. Sara told him not to. He wasn't feeling particularly under-caffeinated and had no reason not to trust her. He'd just take it with him on the way out and dump it in the trash.
Christina walked in, "Good morning Michael," she greeted as she walked around the table towards him. She looked at the cup, "You feeling alright? Normally your coffee is halfway gone before the meeting even starts."
"Fine, yea," he assured as convincingly as he could, his eyes fixated on the dark liquid, wondering what was inside.
She came behind him, her hands resting on either shoulder and giving them a squeeze, "Take a sip, Michael."
His eyes went glassy, and he did.
XXXX
That evening, Sara brought Michael to the apartment where everyone else was staying. When he got home from work he'd seemed even more out of sorts than that morning, and she was concerned. She thought of the woman in the park: Don't overthink. Get help from someone you trust.
She didn't want to be alone with this.
Michael seemed confused about why they were going to see Lincoln. He was even more shocked when he saw how nice the building was, unwilling to believe that Lincoln wasn't living in a dump somewhere. She kindly reminded him that Lincoln had changed. He rolled his eyes in disbelief.
When they got inside, everyone introduced themselves. Michael shook hands and was coherent enough to maintain small-talk. Sara had told him that they were going there to get help. He remembered about the possible drugs, the manipulation, and had been willing enough to go with her in search of help.
Patrick stepped forward after a moment, taking the lead, "Why don't we sit down right over here."
"Alright," he replied, following Patrick to a sofa. They sat facing each other and everyone else watched on from a few steps back.
"Tell me about today."
He sighed and looked tired, sick of explaining himself, "I got to work and went through security, up to my office like normal. We had a staff meeting and then I went back to my office until I left. That's it."
"Good, that's good," he encouraged, a calm voice, "did anyone give you anything to eat?"
"No."
"Drink?"
A hesitation, "No?"
Patrick eyed him carefully, "You sure? What did they give you to drink?"
Sara saw a line of tension appear in his shoulders, a slight flinch. He exhaled shakily, clenching his head between his hands.
Patrick, soothingly, "Deep breath, that's it. Slow, in," he inhaled audibly, "and out," breathing out a slow stream. Michael mirrored him, doing the same and trying to settle his nerves.
"Do me a favor," Patrick asked as he dug a quarter out from his pocket, "take a look at this. See the way the light hits it?"
Sara watched with awe as he turned Michael from a frazzled bundle of nerves to a statue, his eyes fixed on the quarter, his breathing shallow and even.
"You feeling good? Buzzing or tingling in your hands?"
"Buzzing," Michael confirmed.
"Good, that's very good, Michael," his voice soft, "now tell me, at work today, what did they give you to drink at the meeting?"
"Coffee."
Sara's heart lurched.
"Did you drink any?"
"Yes, I did."
"Did someone tell you to?"
"I…" he paused, seeming lost, "no?"
He redirected, "Do you remember Sara telling you this morning about the drugs?"
"Yes."
"Drugs that might be in any food or drink presented to you?"
"Yes."
"And you still drank it?"
A pause, "Yes."
Casually, "Why?"
"I don't….I don't know."
Still holding the quarter, "Just a few more questions; was Christina at the meeting?"
"Yes."
"Where was she in relation to you?"
"She sat next to me, at the head of the table."
"Did she walk by you before taking her seat?"
"Yes."
"Did she touch you, brush against you?"
"I don't…maybe?"
Patrick gave a slight nod, "That's very good, Michael. Thank you. I'm going to put the coin back into my pocket and you'll be fully aware again, ok?"
"Ok."
"Alright," Patrick put the quarter back into his pocket and reached across, patting Michael on the arm for an added wake-up call, "that was very helpful, thank you."
Sara watched Michael jump ever so slightly, his eyes moving around the room again, "You're welcome."
"Well," Patrick addressed the group, "he can't remember the details even when he's deeply relaxed so I'm guessing that yes she did drug him and possibly did whatever physical trigger to get him to drink it, keeping him under her spell. Unless you think he'd deliberately go against your advice?" looking at Sara.
She shrugged, feeling tired, "I mean…I can't know. I don't know what's going on in his mind," she stared at the man on the couch, feeling like she knew him less and less each day, "but I don't think he'd deliberately go against what I said. He seemed to understand what I asked of him this morning."
Patrick nodded.
"Is he gonna be ok?" she asked quietly, fearing that he was going downhill.
"He'll be ok. We're getting closer, just a few days or so and I'm fairly certain we'll be able to figure out the trigger."
"Fairly certain?" Mahone asked.
"Seventy percent," he answered honestly, "the drugs and the amount of time he's been influenced make this a lot tougher. And you know…the ridiculous security around the only person who knows the trigger."
A humbling silence fell.
Sara watched Michael on the couch, yawning, "I think I'd better get him back…it's been a long day."
X
They got back, and Michael seemed to be an odd combination of exhausted and on edge.
"You ready for bed?" she asked, "or do you need to wind down a bit first? Watch some T.V?"
"Uh," he pondered, "I think I need some time to settle down first."
She nodded; she was exhausted too but dug deeper, looking for an ounce of strength to offer him, "Is there anything I can do to help?"
He met her eyes, "Sit with me."
A small smile, she followed him over to the couch. He clicked on the T.V. and gave a big sigh, sinking his back against the cushion and propping his feet up. She snuggled in next to him, resting her head near his collarbone, hearing his heartbeat. His arm draped over her shoulder and she closed her eyes, pretending for just a moment that things were back to normal – normal for them anyways.
Their relationship had been chaotic from the start, but they always had each other. Even if they weren't physically together she knew that he was out there somewhere in the world, and that he cared enough to reach out, to reconnect.
Now she just felt like he was with her out of obligation, telling himself every morning that she was his girlfriend and to "just get through the day". He's right; that's no way to live.
But what was her alternative? She couldn't even consider leaving him – she didn't want to. She just wanted the real Michael back, but until that moment, she'd just have to continually subject herself to worrying and heartache, hanging on to the sliver of hope that someday things might change.
Without thinking, she inched up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, wanting to be closer to him. He looked down, a distant look that morphed into something more familiar. His eyes lingered on her lips and then met hers again. She kissed him, her arms coming around his neck as his found her waist. It wasn't enough - it wasn't him, but it was as close as she could get right now, and she needed that- the headiness of love. The comfort.
She melted against him and listened to his breathing, wondering what was going through his mind, what he would know about the world tomorrow, and which version of himself would wake up next to her.
XXXX
Lincoln and Mahone crouched atop a building with a bird's eye view of Company headquarters. They hadn't had any luck figuring out who her driver was- Mahone's allotment of favors from Lang was running low. She was busy with her actual work, leaving them to investigate on their own. The problem was, without access to any kind of databases, they were coming up empty handed.
So, they had to do it the old-fashioned way, crouching with binoculars, waiting to catch a glimpse of Christina.
It was early – they'd found their spot around five in the morning, not knowing what time she got to work. The sky had been a gray-blue, mostly covered with clouds; it was brightening now, but the sun was still hidden, the cool morning air lingering as the streets became busier, full of people rushing to work.
They each lay on their bellies, peering down towards the Company building, watching each car that passed through the gates and into the parking structure. Some were standard civilian cars, and others were black and luxurious, probably bullet-proof. Mahone suspected she'd be in one of those, so they kept a particular eye on them. The windows of the black vehicles were tinted which didn't help; any attempt to see inside them while they pulled into the gates was futile, and the parking garage furthered their struggle. By the time the vehicle was parked and any passengers exited, their view was obstructed by cement pillars and the dim lighting of the garage.
Lincoln sighed in frustration. So far, they'd only seen three black vehicles enter the premises, and all of them had been occupied by men only. He couldn't see clearly, but he could see well enough to know that.
"It's still early," Mahone offered, checking his watch before looking through the binoculars again, "it's only seven. Maybe she comes in at eight or-," his voice trailed off.
"What?"
"There, right there. Third level, far right, is that her?"
Lincoln moved his field of view accordingly, catching a glimpse of a woman, red-haired and well dressed, walking into the building from the 3rd level of the garage, "That's her. Did you see which car she got out of?"
"They parked about as close to the elevator as you can get," he squinted, "I only see the one black vehicle near that spot. We get closer, we can get the license plate."
"Why would that help?"
He pushed off his forearms into a crouched position, "Make sure we have the right car. If we end up following her I wanna know for sure that we're tailing the right vehicle."
"Alright, let's do it," Lincoln agreed and they started heading back down, across the street, and towards the garage.
The front had security – they watched from a distance as guards scanned I.D. badges before letting people pass. That wasn't going to work.
Mahone jerked his head towards the back of the garage, indicating they go around, and Lincoln followed. They approached, keeping their eyes and ears open, and saw numerous security cameras. The pedestrian doors to the lower levels had badge scanners as well.
Mahone huffed a sigh.
"Think we could scale the building?" Lincoln asked, pointing to a few trees that might be tall enough to get them up to at least the second level. He could only hope that the staircases inside didn't have a badge reader.
"We could, except the fact that those cameras would catch it and security would be down here in about thirty seconds."
"So, what now?"
They headed back, not wanting to risk being seen and needing to re-strategize.
Patrick and Gretchen were there, Sara showed up a few minutes after they did.
Gretchen, "So?"
Mahone, "We saw her driver park on the third floor of the garage, close to the building, but we couldn't read the plate from that far away."
"Did you move closer?"
Lincoln, with a scowl, "No, never thought of that."
Gretchen shot him a look.
Mahone answered, "We walked closer to the building. It requires an I.D. swipe to get through the gate in a vehicle or to get into the parking garage through the pedestrian doors…and there are security cameras everywhere."
Sara, softly, "Michael might have a badge."
All eyes darted to her.
"I mean," she rephrased, "he has a badge, I just don't know for sure if it would get him into the garage."
Mahone nodded, more hopeful, "I'm betting it would."
Lincoln, frustrated, "So he gets into the garage, then what? We still need more than just a license plate, we need to know where she goes, what route she takes…"
Gretchen, "What if Michael gets a ride with her?"
Everyone considered in silence.
She continued, "She likes him, right? Works with him, trusts him. He could ask her for a ride, hell he can ask her to go out to dinner somewhere and we meet them there."
Patrick looked interested now, "Not a bad idea."
Mahone, "But how can you," pointing to Patrick, "join them without it seeming suspicious? The General obviously knows you're poking around, we can only assume Christina does too."
"But would she recognize me?" he asked, "knowing my name is one thing, but…"
Contemplative silence.
Patrick looked to Sara, "Does she know you?"
"Christina?"
He nodded.
"No. I've never met her."
"Has Michael ever talked to her about you?"
After a moment, "I honestly have no idea."
"Is there a picture of you in his office?"
"Never been there."
"Hmm."
"Why? What're you thinking?"
Tapping his chin, "Just considering different options," his eyes darted to Gretchen, "she knows you?"
Leaning against the counter, "I never worked with her directly, but I used to hear her name getting tossed around…can only assume she's heard mine."
"But has she seen you?"
Gretchen paused a moment, thinking, "No, not that I can remember."
Sara asked again, "What're you thinking?"
"I'm thinking of a double date, of sorts – a way to get a group of us, including Michael and Christina and myself out to dinner without raising suspicion."
"I mean…" Sara gave a dark laugh, "I guess it's about time I met his mom. We don't need a reason other than that, do we?"
Patrick grinned, "That's true; and no need to be nervous meeting the in-law, I'm sure she'll approve of you."
"That's not even my concern right now," a blip of anger, "she did this to him."
Soberly, "I know."
Sara met his eyes, "Why not just say that you're my friend? That you're in town and didn't want to spend the evening alone. Michael invites Christina to meet me, and you come along too; we don't make a big deal out of it. Just a group of people going out to dinner."
He shrugged, "Worth a shot. Why don't you have Michael invite her – tonight. Six o'clock."
"I'll text him now."
XXXX
Patrick picked Sara up with Mahone in the backseat. He'd be the get-away driver if necessary and provide weapons skills if needed. She hoped to God that wouldn't be necessary but having him there did make her feel safer.
She'd struggled with deciding what to wear. What was proper attire for meeting an in-law you inherently despised, a date with someone who barely remembers you and a pretend long-lost friend, all of which was simply a cover story for a fact-finding mission? She had no idea, but she ended up going with a dark gray pencil skirt and suit jacket, a cream-colored silk blouse underneath. She pulled her hair up halfway and pinned it in the back.
She realized that her attire was similar to that of the women she'd seen working for the Company. She sighed, but figured it was better to not stand out in Christina's eyes – to fit the mold of women that Michael "should" be with.
She cringed, but swallowed the discomfort, committing to her role. Patrick looked classy in his usual three-piece suit as she got into the passenger seat.
"You ready?" he asked as they pulled out of the apartment lot.
She sighed, feeling the butterflies, "Guess so."
"Just relax," he soothed, "I'll do all of the prodding. In comparison to me, you'll be a delight."
She laughed, and had to ask, "Prodding?"
"You know," he shrugged, "subtly diving into her psyche. Figuring out what motivates her, what trigger she might use."
Smoothing her skirt, "You can figure that out just by chatting with her?"
He grinned, "It's not always that simple, but it can give me a better sense of who she is and how she might manipulate someone. There are lots of ways to do that, you know."
"Comforting."
Softer, "We'll get him back."
"I hope so."
X
When Patrick pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, she was slightly taken aback – it was more casual than she'd expected.
"This is it?"
Patrick nodded with a grin, "Figured we could use a relaxed atmosphere. They're carpooling over from work but I didn't want it to feel like a continuation of their work day. A fancy restaurant would feel too stiff. We're just family and friends out for a meal together."
She nodded, following the logic and secretly relieved to be at what appeared to be a large, well kept brewery.
They got out and went in, pulling the heavy wooden doors and being greeted by the hostess.
"Hi there, I'm Patrick Jane. We've got a reservation for four on the deck."
"Of course, Mr. Jane," the young woman found his name on the sheet and grabbed four menus, "right this way."
Sara trailed behind, following them as the were shown to their table; it was on the deck as promised- a heavy piece of hardwood with an umbrella and a light breeze. She checked her phone; a text from Michael informed her that they were on their way, maybe ten minutes out.
She was nervous but couldn't even bother herself to figure out why. Meeting Christina? Probably part of it; meeting an in-law under such a strange set of circumstances wasn't something she was prepared for.
Patrick gave the hostess and easy smile as they took their seats. She was grateful for him; his confidence and easy-going nature was somewhat contagious. She trusted him to take the lead and deal with whatever happened.
"Thanks for this," she offered genuinely as she picked up the menu.
He waved a hand, "Not at all," and straightened his collar, taking a sip of water.
"So," she paused, "what's the plan?"
He pondered a moment, then leaned closer. She leaned in too, in case he didn't want to be overheard.
"I don't have one."
She laughed, leaning back, "That's so reassuring."
He grinned, "I find that going with the flow is often better. I don't know Christina- I have no idea where the conversation will lead or how she'll react. I need to observe her a while and interact casually before digging deeper," he shrugged, "I'm guessing we'll have several hours, so there's no need to rush."
She couldn't disagree, and distracted herself by looking over the menu, feeling the breeze play with her hair.
After a few moments she saw movement in her periphery coming towards them. She looked up and saw Michael and Christina approaching. He wore his dress shirt and tie but no jacket- she couldn't blame him considering how warm it was. Christina was in a white silky shirt and gray jacket with slacks. She realized that they were almost matching and considered that a good start.
Sara stood up to hug Michael, "Hey."
He smiled, "Hey."
Then she extended a hand to Christina, "I'm Sara, it's nice to meet you."
Christina smiled and took her hand, a slight coyness about her, "Lovely to meet you, Sara," her eyes moved to Patrick, "and you must be Patrick."
He stood now too and offered a hand, his dazzling grin, "Pleasure to meet you, you look lovely."
If Sara didn't know better, she'd say that Patrick had the ability to charm just about anyone, watching as Christina's expression softened slightly.
He grabbed Michael's hand, they shook, and everyone took their seats. Michael sat next to Sara and directly across from Christina. Patrick was next to her.
Sara exhaled, still unsure of how this was all going to go. Michael grabbed her hand and squeezed it – she looked over and met his eyes. He smiled.
"How was work?" she asked softly.
"Good," he nodded, "it was good."
"Oh he's being modest," Christina beamed, "we're making real progress. I couldn't do it without him."
"A mother-son dream team, huh?" Patrick chimed in with a smile.
"He's got a brilliant mind," she agreed, somewhat evading the question.
"Not unlike yours, I assume?" Patrick hedged, not buying her own modesty.
She played it coy, "I like what I do. It keeps my mind occupied and otherwise out of trouble," she sighed, "but it can be overwhelming at times. Seeing all the moving parts, all the things that could go wrong, all the interactions between variables. It helps having someone to bounce ideas off of," her eyes smiled at Michael.
Michael bowed his head slightly, avoiding the praise.
Sara looked around, her gaze going beyond the deck. She saw Mahone on a bench not too far away, watching. It put her a little at ease.
She saw two other men, dressed in suits that screamed "Company," and saw that Mahone saw them too.
She discreetly texted him, "We ok?"
She watched as he replied, "Ok. Just two guys. I've got eyes on them."
She slowed her heart, trying to remember that this was just a regular dinner between friends. She really wanted to believe that.
"What got you started in the business?" Patrick asked her, keeping the conversation flowing.
"Oh, it was so long ago…"
Sara's mind drifted as the conversation continued around her. She felt the warmth of Michael's hand on her leg, the breeze on her face. She was starting to realize that she didn't like not having a plan. She felt lost – no sense of direction or intent. Was she just supposed to wait around and hope that Patrick could magically detect the trigger? She looked at Michael, who was looking at the menu. He seemed awfully quiet, absorbed in his own mind.
"So, Sara," Christina's voice snapped her back to the present, "tell me, how did you and Michael meet?"
Her eyes zeroed in on Sara like a hawk.
Sara gulped. How the hell was she supposed to answer that? Christina knew that Michael was in Fox River, and probably knew that she worked there. Christina also knew that she knew that Michael was brain-washed. Did Christina know that Sara suspected her? Her mind scrambled, too many factors at play. No safe answer.
"Uh-"
"-Michael never told you the story?" Patrick interjected, feigning shock and horror, "Michael…" he shook his head in disbelief.
Michael looked just as lost, as unsure, "Well, we haven't really talked about much aside from work-"
Patrick waved a hand, indicating that he'd been teasing, "I'm just messing with you. You know for me, it's more interesting what keeps people together. Meeting someone is easy but staying together," he raised his eyebrows, "different story."
"That's very true," Christina agreed.
Sara exhaled, thanking whatever higher power there was for Patrick's ability to distract. A waiter showed up, further closing the lid on Christina's question, and took their drink orders.
Michael still seemed a bit confused- a bit off somehow. Sara put her hand on his shoulder and leaned closer, "You ok?"
He seemed surprised to see her there, like her presence near him was a shock. He recovered, "Yea, I'm ok."
Unconvinced, "Ok," her hand moved down slightly to rub his upper back.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Her heart jump-started, fearing that it was a warning from Mahone. But it wasn't – the text was from Patrick.
"Do that again."
She glanced up to find him chatting easily with Christina. She replied, "What?"
Patrick dragged Michael into the conversation with Christina to give himself time to check his phone and reply, "Shoulder."
She glanced up and met Patrick's eyes. Christina and Michael were chatting, so Patrick lifted his arm behind Christina, almost touching her shoulder from behind, indicating for Sara to do the same to Michael. She did.
She placed a hand on his shoulder again and watched Patrick, who was staring intensely at Christina. Her eyes darted to Sara's hand. She looked uneasy.
Patrick gave the slightest nod and Sara removed her hand, rubbing his back again to make it look like a natural, easy gesture, before grabbing her water to take a sip. What did Patrick know?