*Time jump, beginning of school year*

"Alright Mike, you ready?" Sara asked as he finished stuffing a navy blue notebook into his backpack.

"Mm-hmm," he replied, slipping his shoes on and following her and Michael out the front door of their new home.

Sara had been relieved when they finally moved in a few weeks ago. It took a long day, but with Linc and Veronica's help, they'd moved all of their things and slowly settled in, unpacking and rearranging. Mike seemed to be taking it all really well, and Sara felt a huge weight lift with the change of scenery.

They were still about fifteen minutes away from Mike's school, but on the opposite side of town. That alone was surprisingly enough to make Sara feel like she really was somewhere else- living on the opposite end of town meant that she shopped at a different, more conveniently located store. Same goes for the coffee shop she went to now, and the gas station…they were simple things, but it made her feel like she'd moved on in a small way.

Sara drove with Michael in the passenger seat, and Mike in the back. The drop-off line at school was long, as expected- she was used to the by now and always left a few extra minutes early so Mike wouldn't be late. When they finally got closer she parked and they all got out, helping Mike gather his things and say their goodbyes.

She knelt down to his level, "We'll be right here when the bell rings, okay?" she told him, knowing that finding her after school was always a concern of his. She didn't know why; she'd never been late. Well, that wasn't true- one day a year or two ago she'd gotten stuck in traffic behind an accident. She called the school and one of the teachers let Mike know she was on her way, and he stayed safely in the office until she could get there. He seemed fine that day, not rattled or upset when she'd finally gotten there, but even before that day there was always a look in his eyes when she dropped him off, a slight worry. A sliver of doubt. She wanted to squash it like a bug, and she took it upon herself to always remind him that she'd be there.

"Ok," Mike agreed, and looked towards Michael, giving him a wave, "bye, Dad."

"Bye," he waved with a smile as Mike turned and ran up the steps.

It always seemed so quiet after he left, Sara thought. Not that Mike was a loud kid, but still. She suddenly was aware of a slight breeze, disrupting the humidity on the late summer day. Bird songs cut through the morning air as she got back into the car, pulling the door closed. Michael did the same and buckled up as she put the car into drive and carefully maneuvered through all of the people and off of the school property.

"So," Michael began, "I heard back about the job."

"Which one?" she wondered, knowing that he'd applied to several.

"The engineering firm downtown."

She glanced his way, "Yea?"

He nodded, "Sounds like they really need someone and they're ready to hire."

"As in, you could start anytime?"

"Yup, but I don't know…I have an interview tomorrow…" his voice faded.

She knew what was on his mind, and asked bluntly, "Do they know your history?"

A slow nod, "They do. I uh…I had to explain why I had such a long gap in my employment."

"And they don't mind?"

He leaned his elbow against the window, propping his cheek on his fist, "They're willing to talk to me and I consider that a good sign- it gives me the chance to explain myself and answer any questions they have. Besides," he continued, "they aren't a huge, corporate firm. They don't have as much on the line as far as…you know…publicity. If their name was plastered all over the news for hiring me, no one outside of this community would even know who they are."

Tilting her head back and forth, considering, "That's true."

He'd started applying for jobs a few weeks ago. Between buying a new house and Mike starting school, he figured it was a good time to begin his search. Sara was conflicted about the idea of going back to work herself. For now, it made more sense for Michael to take that leap and for her to keep things as steady as possible for Mike at home. The thought of merging two work schedules with his school schedule wouldn't be easy, especially if her job had her working odd hours.

She pulled into the driveway of their new home and once again, let her eyes take it in for a moment. The outside was a beautiful gray with white around the windows and the front door. Inside the ceilings were vaulted and had exposed wood beams, a dark wood with the ceiling painted white in between, making the whole space feel open and light, yet somehow cozy. The living room lead to the kitchen, with granite counters that were a mix of tan, with black and white flecks throughout. The backyard was fenced, as Mike had requested, but the idea of a dog was something she didn't want to take on quite yet.

As she and Michael walked inside, she noted again the stack of boxes just off the entryway. They were mostly unpacked but she was to the point now where all motivation was lost. Everything they needed and regularly used was already in its rightful place- all the extra stuff would likely remain boxed until it was needed. Maybe she could just shove all of those boxes in a closet and be done with it. The idea was tempting, and she added it to her mental list.

"What are you gonna do today?" Michael asked her as he slipped out of his shoes.

She sighed and put her hands on her hips, then pointed to the boxes, "Might hide those somewhere."

He chuckled, "That's a good start, but I don't think it'll take you eight hours."

"Damn," she joked, "but no, I uh…I don't know…why, did you have something in mind?"

He looked around, thinking, "I'll probably fix the door."

"Oh, right," she remembered, the door for the third bedroom stuck really bad at the top. Not a big deal now since it would most likely be used as an office sometime in the future, but still, they'd rather get it done sooner than later.

"Then I'll probably prepare for the interview, maybe look at applying a few more places."

"Well, just so you're aware, I'm an excellent mock-interviewer," she informed him with an exaggerated air of confidence.

Eyebrow raised, "Is that so?"

Nodding emphatically, "I'll ask so many difficult questions that the actual interview will be a breeze in comparison."

He feigned fear, a wide-eyed look, "I don't know…I don't wanna be so traumatized that I chicken out."

"I don't think that's even been a problem for you," she joked, but also meant it. He wasn't one to back away from a challenge. Ever.

"You're more than qualified," she assured, "if they let you slip away it's their loss, not yours."

"Well, thanks," he replied shyly, "but it kind of is our loss…we can't live off our savings forever."

"I know," she agreed, their cushion was starting to wear out, becoming less and less padded, but they were still okay. She didn't want him to rush into a job he'd end up hating.

She moved closer and wrapped her arms around his middle, tilting her head up and pecking his lips, "We'll be okay. I don't want you to have to settle for something you don't want."

He shrugged, arms coming to rest on her lower back, "I can if I have to though. I've been through worse. Beggars can't be choosers."

Her brows furrowed; she didn't like that.

"What?" he asked.

A huff, her eyes avoiding his gaze, glued to a button on his shirt, "You of all people shouldn't have to beg for a job."

"What do you mean?"

She scoffed, "You're one of the smartest people, arguably, in the whole world and a tiny little engineering firm in upstate New York is gonna make you beg for a job…I just-"

"-One of the smartest people in the world, really?" he asked with genuine surprise, and disbelief.

She met his eyes, "Uh, yea?" her tone implying a, "duh."

He scoffed.

"Think about it," she elaborated, "when Jacob picked you, do you think it was random? No, he could've picked anyone he wanted to, he had that power given his position in the CIA. He chose you. The Company? Same thing. You always heard the General talking about how the Company was made up of, and I quote, "the greatest minds in the world," and they went to insanely extreme lengths to try to employ you."

She watched his expression change from skepticism to quiet contemplation. Did he really never realize?

"Hmm," was all he replied.

His mind obviously had a lot to chew on now, so she gave him another kiss and patted his chest, adding just one more thing, "Don't sell yourself short."

XXXXXXX

Jacob walked into the visitation room and easily spotted Emily, her bright blonde hair and overall poise causing her to stand out in a place like this. She wore a pant-suit, dark gray, and a dark blue silk blouse underneath. Her eyes and features were as sharp as ever, yet her posture seemed almost relaxed as she waited for him.

He walked over, the hand-cuffs irritating his wrists. Her eyes lifted as he approached, clearly taking in his appearance. He sat down gracefully and cleared his throat, eyeing her as well.

"You look like shit," she stated with a small twinkle in her eye. That comment from anyone else would have greatly offended him, but from her it felt more like a sisterly jab. And besides, she was here helping him- she was obviously one of those people whose loyalty knew no bounds, and he was lucky enough to be in possession of it.

After countless failed phone calls, he'd finally dialed the right number. She hadn't answered the first time and he couldn't blame her- he rarely answered calls from numbers he didn't recognize. But he'd left a message and the next day a guard came to get him; he had a phone call.

He knew the phone lines weren't secure and had asked that she come visit. A few days later, here they were.

"So, what's this about?" she asked as she leaned forward, clasping hands and resting her forearms on the table.

He cleared his throat, "It's good to see you."

She rolled her eyes, "Yea, I'm sure that's what you needed. A friend."

He smirked at her ability to see through his game. Most people couldn't, "I'll give you that," he agreed, "You still with the CIA?"

She leaned closer as if telling a secret, "You know I can't discuss such things, given their covert nature and all."

He sized her up, looking deeper into her eyes and saying with certainty, "They took you back."

She shrugged, "Actually, I never left. Throwing you under the bus worked quite well, I convinced them that I was innocent in all of it. Just following orders."

His expression hardened.

"Or relax," she brushed it off, "it's not like you're any worse off because of it."

Fair point, he decided. Her accusations wouldn't have changed his sentence or made things worse for him. Plus, having her at the CIA would work to his advantage. She still had a lot of resources.

He was ready to bring her in on the plan now, and stated simply, "I need to get out of here, and I want my son back."

She looked a bit surprised, but reeled her expression in, "Okay. And?"

"I need help on both accounts," and he proceeded to explain his plan in simple terms, considering their time restriction.

Emily, "So, I need to figure out the best time to grab Mike and find someone willing to take care of him until you're free."

Nodding, "Pretty much."

She hesitated a moment, "You don't think that's cruel? Taking him like that."

He rolled his eyes, "Don't tell me you've developed a moral compass since I got thrown in here."

A smirk, "Wouldn't dream of it, I'm just saying-"

"-I know, I know, but kids are adaptable. Once he's back with me I'm convinced I can help him process everything."

"And you really think his parents will take the bait?"

"I'm his parent."

Sarcastic, challenging, "Are you though? Because I'm pretty sure they're his parents and he's living with them while you rot in here, so…"

He huffed, "Are you willing to help me or not?"

"What's in it for me?" she asked, leaning back slightly.

"There it is," he commented with a snakelike hiss and a twinkle in his eyes, "there's the girl I know, always looking out for number one."

"Yea, because you don't know anything about that," she retorted.

He scoffed quietly, "Money sound good to you?"

"Hmm," she tilted her head back and forth, "a bit unoriginal, don't you think."

"Think of it as money and a cure for your boredom."

"Who says I'm bored?"

"The fact that you returned my call so quickly and have no better place to be on a Monday afternoon than visiting a felon."

Her jaw set. After a moment, "I'll start looking for someone to take him."

"Single mom, low-"

"-low income, infertile, blah blah," she finished for him in a callous tone, "I'll find someone."

XXXXXX

Michael rode along with Sara again when she left to pick up Mike. He'd spent a bit of time job searching and was ready for a break. He hated how long it took to apply- to fill out forms that just asked for all the information on his resume to be entered again in a slightly different format. It was tedious; he didn't mind tedious tasks as a general principle, but this was useless. Unnecessary.

When they opened the front door to leave, he was hit by a wall of humidity. It was a warm afternoon, with the heavy air of late summer surrounding him.

When they pulled up to the school Sara parked and got out, shutting her door and leaning her back against the vehicle, checking her phone and waiting. Her sunglasses perched on top of her head and she seemed at ease. He followed her lead and wandered over to the driver's side, leaning against the car next to her and checking his watch.

"We early?" he wondered.

She shrugged, "About five minutes. Better early than late, though."

"Mmm," he hummed, "does he not like it if you're tardy?"

She glanced over, "Well, "A" I've only been tardy once and it was totally not my fault, and "B"…yea. It seems to worry him."

"Why?"

"Well, if I knew that, I'd try to fix it," she looked towards the school door, "I figure whatever it is, having me be here consistently is about the best thing I can do."

His limited knowledge of child psychology filled in the blanks and he mumbled, "Abandonment issues…"

She looked his way, sympathetic, "You didn't abandon him-"

"-he never knew me."

"Right, which might have actually worked to his advantage when he was younger."

Michael shot her a confused look.

"I could tell him about you," she explained, "how much you loved him even though you never met him. I could tell him stories about you and help him feel like he did know you. He grew up loving you, idolizing you," she paused, "you didn't abandon him, and I truly believe he never felt that way."

"Hmm," he considered, "then what is it?"

She shrugged, "Every kid has fears, you know? This is one of his right now. He'll grow out of it."

The bell rang, and kids started pouring out of the double doors at the front of the school. Michael watched the flood of kids running and giggling, chattering with each other. He spotted Mike, and Sara gave a wave. He clearly saw them both and sped up.

"Hey, how was it?" Sara asked when he approached, helping him into the backseat.

"It was good," he replied simply in a happy tone.

"Yea?" she asked, "you like your new teacher?"

"Mm-hmm," he nodded, "she seems really nice. And she said if I get done with my work early I can draw and won't get in trouble."

Sara laughed, "Did she? Well that's a nice change."

Michael gave a confused look, and Sara clarified, "Mike's teacher last year didn't appreciate his artistic skills, said he was doodling when he should've been working-"

Mike cut in, "-but every time I did that it's because I was already done and waiting for the other kids. What was I supposed to do, just sit there and do nothing?"

Michael smiled at that, having remembered being in the exact same boat as a kid, "Well I'm glad this year will be better."

He got into the passenger seat and held Sara's right hand as she started to drive off, their fingers intertwined and resting on his leg. His gaze fell on Mike in the back. Yup, it was gonna be a good year.

XXXXX

Emily left Fox River with a sense of purpose she hadn't had in a while; if she was being honest- since Jacob was locked away. Her work for the CIA without him was far to vanilla for her taste, and she was eager to have something a bit more interesting to occupy her time. She considered her options, trying to figure out the best way to locate a prospective mother.

Her hands drove her to the library downtown without conscious thought, and she parked on the street, making her way inside. Public computers were always good for this type of sleuthing, even though her CIA issued one was very security conscious. But it wasn't "private". She knew her higher-ups could view anything she did on it, so she kept it simple. Besides, part of her enjoyed the silent company of other people; she never interacted with the fellow library-goers, but there was an odd sense of comfort just having other people nearby. Other people who had no idea what she was up to.

She sat down and started researching- finding local fertility clinics but then remembering that her target wasn't supposed to be able to afford such things. Adoption agencies led her to the same dilemma. Hmm. Maybe a support group, she thought, for mother's who've lost children. A twinge of guilt pricked her side; was she really about to hunt down a woman who'd miscarried only to give her a child and then have that child taken away from her without explanation?

She shook it off; that was the job.

"Excuse me," a middle aged man said as he approached, "you dropped this on your way in," and thrust a piece of paper into her hand.

She hadn't carried anything in aside from her keys, but she accepted it and he walked away in a hurry. She made a mental note of his height and build, brown eyes and hair. Tattoo on his right calf of a ships wheel. He headed east as he exited the library. Once he was out of sight, she un-crumpled the paper and read the few words, hastily scratched in pen, "I know who you're working for. Poseidon is going down; don't get caught in the undertow."

She cleared her throat and in a controlled movement, folded the paper and tucked it into her jacket pocket, gazing around discretely. The man who'd delivered it…was he simply a messenger? Probably. She highly doubted he was the one who knew all about Poseidon- he didn't look the part of a master-mind.

But who, then? And why?

"Going down," she thought. Dying? He was already in prison, he couldn't go much lower except in death. And her going down with him, what did that really mean for her? Would she lose her job? Go to prison? Be killed? The questions rapid fired through her mind, and she had answers for none of them, but one thing was for sure: she wasn't sticking her neck out too far for a measly sum of money. If going along with Jacob's plan meant getting swept away, she simply wouldn't leave the shore.