A/N: Hope you're all still enjoying this story. As always, hearing from you makes my day :) Happy reading!
XXXXX
Emily had left the school feeling frustrated, but somehow she wasn't surprised that everything hadn't gone according to plan- it rarely did. The ebony haired woman had gotten in her way. She looked familiar- a family friend perhaps? A relative? Whoever she was, she was just delaying the inevitable, but throwing a wrench into the plan nonetheless.
She dialed Fox River and waited to get ahold of Jacob. He answered with an eagerness.
"Did you get him?"
She sighed, "No."
Flatly, "Oh." In her mind she could practically see the twinkle fade from his eyes, a slight purse in his lips.
"Another lady picked him up."
"Who?"
"I don't know, she looked familiar but I don't know her. She's got dark hair and green eyes, she was there picking up a girl who looked a bit younger than Mike."
Jacob sighed, "Veronica. Dammit."
"You know her?"
"She's Mike's aunt, married to Lincoln."
"And you just…forgot to tell me about her?"
"I didn't think she'd notice," he defended, "she and Sara rarely saw each other in the chaos of picking up their kids, and I definitely didn't think she'd notice Mike on the one day you were after him."
"Well, now they'll be suspicious. All of them. They know something is up and they'll be on high alert. The school isn't gonna be a viable option anymore."
He was growing impatient, "So figure something else out."
"This isn't on me," she replied with a hint of venom, "I said I would help, I didn't agree to mastermind this whole thing."
"Nabbing a child isn't exactly rocket science, but I take your point," he conceded, reeling his anger in a bit, "why not try from their home?"
She scoffed, "Right, because I'm sure they wouldn't notice me wandering up their front steps."
"I was thinking something a bit more discrete."
"Like what?"
She listened as he explained his ideas, and her skepticism continued to grow. This was getting riskier than she'd anticipated. Sara and Michael both knew what she looked like, and she had no doubt that they'd shoot her without hesitation if they saw her nearby. The idea of a disguise usually didn't appeal to her, but she was now thinking it might be a necessity.
She hung up and shoved her cell phone into her pocket, feeling more discouraged than before, but at least she had a new problem to tackle. She went home and poured a glass of wine, sipping it in the quiet as she considered her next move. It hit her that she had no real visualization of what was to come, what might happen after Mike was taken and what might be asked of her. She liked a bit of mystery, but being kept in the dark about that was deeply unsettling. Already, agreeing to help Jacob was more trouble than she'd thought…but it kept her occupied, for what that was worth. Without it she'd simply be alone in the dark with her wine, but with it? She had a plan, something for her mind to chew on, and she let it.
XXXXXX
Michael awoke to the chime of his alarm and instantly jolted awake. He'd slept poorly, and had been merely drifting in the space between wakefulness and sleep for most of the night. It wasn't unusual for him, the lack of restful sleep, but last night had to have been the worst one yet.
His mind had swirled and pivoted, chasing the illusion that he might be able to figure out what was happening to his family. He'd latch on to an idea and follow it down it's path, through dark hallways and endless tunnels, only to be diverted again and again. A new possibility. Another angle he hadn't considered. It felt hopeless.
He'd tell himself that without more information, there was nothing useful about his thought experiments. He'd remind himself that he still had to live his life- to get up and go to work, to maintain some sense of normalcy for Mike. He'd tell himself so many things, but his mind would slowly, stubbornly, start throwing out more avenues to explore. He did, and now that it was morning, he had nothing to show for it and was exhausted beyond belief.
Exhausted, yet wired, he realized as he jolted at the alarm. His heart beat was already rapid, his eyes wide open as if the day had startled him just by existing. It was still dark and Sara was asleep next to him, laying on her side and facing him, though she stirred slightly as he shut the noise off and started to get out of bed.
"Hey," she mumbled and reached out for his hand, not allowing him to leave the bed quite yet, "you didn't sleep," she stated.
He tried to play it off, a coyness and reluctance to admit that she was right. Slowly, "How would you know? Unless you're telling me you didn't sleep either."
"Oh, I managed to sleep some," her eyes opened now and peered into his, "but I woke up a few times and I could feel your mind buzzing from all the way over here."
He replied with a simple hum, a skeptical one even though he knew she was right. He wasn't surprised that his level of anxiety was a palpable buzz radiating from his body. Hell, if she'd told him he'd been levitating off the bed, he would've believed her.
At his silence, she continued, "There's a joke in there somewhere about steam coming out of your head, but I'm not awake enough yet to make it work."
He chuckled at that, the laugh giving him a flicker of relief, and a welcome one at that. He looked down at her and sighed, amazed at how even a few sentences, a brief interaction, could put a different spin on his morning, and make the day ahead not feel quite so daunting.
He sat back down on the edge of the bed and leaned over, kissing her hair before getting back up and wandering into the bathroom, grabbing his work clothes on the way.
When he emerged, he saw the bed was empty, and heard the faint clatter of kitchen noises from downstairs. He finished tying his tie on the way down, just in time for Sara to hand him a mug of coffee.
Mike was at the table eating cereal and Michael went over, putting a hand on his head, "How'd you sleep?" he asked, a subtle way of trying to assess how yesterday's events affected Mike.
"Ok, I guess. I had weird dreams," he replied nonchalantly as he shoveled another bite into his mouth.
Michael sat next to him and sipped his coffee, looking at him, "What kind of dreams?"
"I don't know," he admitted, "I remember a horse in one of them. I kept trying to get on but couldn't. And then another part had a tornado," he paused to take another bite.
"A tornado?" Michael wondered.
Nodding, "Yea, we were back at the old house and there was a tornado coming. It never came, and I couldn't really see it out the window, but we knew it was there."
"Like on that day we had the thunderstorm?" he wondered, remembering the pouring rain…the origami-
"Mmm," he tilted his head, "not really. The sky was darker in my dream. And we knew a tornado was coming and we were all scared, but it never hit. I woke up before it could."
Michael met Sara's eyes above Mike's head; she moved over and tousled Mike's hair, "Well thank goodness for that," lightening the mood before moving over to grab his backpack, "alright, finish up, we gotta go."
Mike nodded and stood up, clearly oblivious to his parents' attempt to psychoanalyze him, grabbed his bowl and took it over to the sink. Michael rested his chin on his fists and watched with a soft smile; he was a good kid. The thought caused a constriction in his chest, a remembrance that he could take almost zero credit for that. The debate of nature versus nurture was as old as time, and he did believe that temperament was partially just someone's nature- how they were naturally inclined to be. Mike's quiet thoughtfulness could very well have come from him. But Sara had raised him; all of the nurturing had come from her. And Jacob. The thought made him taste bile, never knowing whether he should be grateful that Jacob had had the decency to treat Mike well, or to be furious that he'd been near his son at all. The two usually mingled, leaving him confused and irritated; and those feelings were especially strong this morning thanks to his restless night.
"Michael?" Sara called from the doorway, pulling him out of his mind.
"Right," he stood up and left with his family- them going to school and him to work. It was nice that the timing worked out so they could leave together, even if it meant driving in separate cars and directions; getting new tires for Sara on an emergency basis had been an inconvenience to say the least, but it paled in comparison to how that day could've turned out, had Veronica not been there. Plus, he was grateful that they could afford it- that hundreds of dollars later her car was fixed and it was almost as if nothing had ever happened. Almost.
When Sara and Mike turned left at the stop sign and he turned right, his mind diverted back to his nighttime thoughts, causing a quick flip-flop feeling in his stomach, a slight twinge of nausea. Clearly this train of thought wasn't doing him well and his body was trying hard to send him that signal, but it was as if he was powerless, watching his own mind as the train plowed ahead anyways, ignoring all signs of danger and heading straight off a cliff.
He gripped the wheel tighter and leaned forward slightly, moving his shoulders up and down trying to release their tension. He was almost glad to be going to work; he needed a distraction and probably, though he never liked to admit it, to be around other people. His inclination to slip away into his own self and get lost was threatening to take over, to swallow him whole. He could practically feel a shell forming around him, piece by piece, blocking out anything from the outside world. He couldn't let that happen, not when the outside world (and one particular inhabitant of it) was threatening to take his family away. Again. He had to stay sharp, keep his wits about him. With that goal in focus now, he set his jaw, and resolved to do whatever he had to do to keep them safe.
XXXXXXX
Sara had just gotten home from dropping Mike off at school when her phone buzzed, a text from Veronica, "Hey, my case for today got dismissed and I've got some free time. Can we meet somewhere to talk?"
Sara had no real plans for the day, so she typed back a reply, agreeing to meet her at a cafe about halfway between their homes.
It was another warm morning, so she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and slipped on sandals, completing her outfit of jeans and a dark green tank top.
The café was downtown and she parked along the street, hopping out and walking towards the door; she saw Veronica's car already parked and was surprised that she beat her there, then realized that Veronica had obviously been leaving work when she texted, and her work was only a few blocks away from the café.
Sara braced herself as she opened the door; she knew Veronica was going to have questions, and rightfully so. She'd inadvertently thrown herself right into the middle of a pretty precarious situation and she deserved an explanation. Unfortunately, Sara didn't have one.
She could guess and extrapolate, she could speculate and come to a few reasonable conclusions about what was going on, but she didn't have any solid answers, not really. It was irritating to her and was obviously to Michael as well, keeping him awake at night. She'd wanted to smack him (lovingly) the night before because he kept fidgeting. Every time she'd half wake up he'd be buzzing- she wasn't exaggerating when she'd told him as much. His fingers were tapping, or his foot was sweeping side to side under the covers, making a swooshing noise against the sheets. It was the night time equivalent of someone clicking a pen repeatedly and it about drove her mad. She was so close to saying something to him, or nudging his side to get him to realize what he was doing. In the end though, she decided that if he needed to think about how to save their boy, and if his body needed an outlet for all that energy- far be it from her to stop him.
She pulled the heavy wooden door of the café open and spotted Veronica immediately. She was seated at a corner table, the sunlight streaming through the window and casting an angular shadow over half of her face. Her green eyes darted up and found Sara, who gripped a little tighter onto the strap of her bag and wandered over in her direction.
"Hey," Sara greeted someone tentatively as she sat down. Veronica had already got coffee for each of them, and she wrapped her hands around it as she took her seat, glad to have something to hang onto.
"So," Veronica started, "how's your day going?"
Sara gave a small nod, "So far so good. You?"
"Can't complain, considering I got an unexpected day off," she eyed Sara for a beat, and Sara kept her expression intentionally neutral, waiting for the inevitable end to the small talk.
"How's Mike?" she asked.
A sigh, "He's fine, he uh…he's fine, thank you again, really, for the other day, I-"
"-it's not a problem, I'm glad I was there," she assured, "I just can't help but wonder-"
"-what the hell is going on?" Sara finished with a dark tone mixed with humor.
"Yea, I mean…is someone after him? Or you?"
"We don't know," Sara answered honestly, then sighed, "this might take a while to explain, I don't wanna hold you up-"
"-no, no, that's why I'm here," she assured, holding up her full mug as proof that she intended to be here for the long haul, "hit me."
Sara quickly backtracked in her mind, trying to figure out the best starting point for her story. She settled on the phone call, "Well, you remember T-bag?"
"Of course, how could I not," she joked.
"He called a few days ago. Michael…uh, Michael arranged for him to be in the same cell as Jacob in Fox River."
"To kill him?" she asked bluntly as she took a sip, her eyes peering into Sara's from above the rim.
She scoffed, "I mean…yea, in theory. Not something we're proud of but-"
"-oh I'm not blaming you, after what he did…"
"Right, but then we found out that T-bag tried to kill him, but the medical staff got to him on time."
"Damn."
"So now he's in a different cell. I mean, I don't know if he'll try again but for now Jacob is safe and sound."
"Sorry, what does this have to do with Mike?"
"I'm getting there," she promised, "my point with all that is…despite all he's done in the past, T-bag is…kind of on our side now? I mean I wouldn't trust him in any other circumstance, but right now I think he hates Jacob almost as much as we do, if that's possible."
"Your interests are aligned," she noted.
"Exactly, so that's why when he called me with a warning, I was inclined to believe him, and what happened the other day…it proved he was right."
"What warning?"
"He called to say that Jacob had a visitor at Fox River. Emily; she's this woman who was involved when everything went down and from what I gather, she's worked with Jacob for a long time."
"Why was she there?"
"He couldn't hear their conversation, but come on. Jacob wouldn't have her there for a friendly visit," then under her breath, "he doesn't have friends."
Veronica understood, "He has allies. Tools."
"Right."
"So, you think he's planning something."
Sara sipped her coffee and gazed briefly out the window, taking in the sunshine, the light playing on the bright green leaves on the trees just outside the window, "Yea, but we couldn't know what. Other than "he's up to no good," we had no other information."
"Until someone popped your tires-"
"-and then tried to take Mike. That woman you saw? The one at the school, we're guessing it was Emily. That's why I asked what she looked like."
"How can you be sure, though?" Veronica asked, playing devil's advocate, "what if they popped your tires for some other reason?"
She leaned back slightly, curious, "Like what?"
"I don't know," she shrugged, "maybe they wanted you home alone. Stuck."
Her eyes narrowed, "You think he's after me?"
"I'm just saying he could be."
Sara must've sat silent for too long, because Veronica piped up again, "Sorry, that's just my lawyer instinct and desire for proof popping up again."
"No, no, you've got a point," she conceded, "I just assumed he was after Mike…"
"Still a possibility," she pointed out, "and I guess having you home alone…I don't know what good that would do him. If he wants you back…unless he's going to get you in his prison cell with him, then nabbing you won't do him much good."
"Same goes for Mike, though," she pointed out with a frustrated sigh, "that's what gets me about this whole thing. He cared for Mike, I do believe that," she paused, "Michael asked me if I thought he'd ever hurt Mike."
"And?"
"And I said I'm almost a hundred percent sure that he won't. Which is great, but then where does that leave us? Why would he try and take Mike?"
"To scare you," she offered simply, "to hurt you."
Flatly, "Well it's working," a sigh, "I just don't know what to think."
Veronica looked at her closely for a moment, and her expression softened, "I'm sorry, Sara, I really am. I wish there was more I could do."
"You already did," she assured, then more vulnerable, "you have no idea how scared I was when I couldn't…"
"I know," she put a hand on her arm, "I do know. I could see it in your face the moment I pulled up, and Michael's. That's why I…we," she corrected, including Lincoln, "want to help."
Sara shrugged defeatedly, feeling her emotions starting to get the better of her, "Help, how? There's nothing we can do. It's like we're fighting this invisible enemy who could strike at any time from any direction. It killed me taking Mike to school this morning and leaving him there. If he's not within my sight…I can't know that he's okay, and it's driving me crazy."
"I know," she empathized, unable to offer any real consolation. "And Michael? How's he handling all this?"
She stared down into her mug, "He's retreating into himself."
"Mmm," she hummed her understanding, "how bad?"
"It's early days, but I can see it starting. The vacant look in his eyes…he won't even notice that I'm standing in a room until I'm right in front of him saying his name."
Veronica smiled a small, amused smile, "Well if it's any consolation he's always been like that."
That earned a small chuckle, "Really?"
"Oh my God, yes," she grinned now, "I remember trying to get something to register with him when we were kids. Like if he was doing one thing and we wanted him to join us for something else, I'd have to call his name ten times before he'd realize," she reminisced a moment, "he certainly gets lost in that mind of his."
Sara laughed, "Ok, well some things never change, then."
They sat in silence for a moment, before Veronica offered a simple reassurance, "He loves you both, more than anything. You aren't invisible to him and even if he doesn't act like it, he knows you're there. He just…when he has a problem to solve…"
"He can't help but focus on it."
"Like a laser," she agreed.
XXXXXXXXX
Emily analyzed her reflection in the mirror; she'd spent the early morning hours trying on different disguises. It was rather unoriginal, but the front runner was currently a pair of baggy jeans held up by a belt, a baseball cap, a hoodie with the hood up over the hat, and a massive pair of sunglasses that were as gender-neutral in appearance as she could find. The bagginess of the pants and shapeless form overall was her way of making it more difficult for anyone who might see her to accurately assess if she was male or female. Being unable to make that call doubles the pool of possible suspects, which obviously worked in her favor.
Jacob was growing impatient, which she found amusing and annoying all in one. He had endless time, years in prison, and she'd only been tasked with this recently, yet she was already taking too long as far as he was concerned.
She knew him well enough to know that it was a point of pride that he could play the long game; his plans sometimes took years to pan out and he was normally content with waiting, eyes on the prize, but this time felt different. There was a slight edge to his voice now, and she suspected that getting this ball rolling- taking Mike and starting the chain reaction that would *hopefully* end with Michael breaking Jacob out of Fox River was all that occupied his mind. Being locked away made him useless, and he relied completely on her to take action. She was in a place of power. She'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy that fact, but she was still risking herself.
She stared at herself again through the darkness of the sunglasses and confirmed that this would have to do. Now, it was just a matter of timing.
XXXXXXX
It was way too much of a relief as Michael got home to see Sara's car in the driveway, and to walk in the door to see her and Mike happily cooking together. They'd made it through the day. They made it home safe.
He let out a breath and took his shoes off, tossing his keys on the counter.
"Hey, how was work?" Sara asked while her eyes remained on the vegetables she was chopping.
"Uh…good," he decided, reluctant to admit that his mind had been on his family the whole day, waiting for a phone call that something had gone horribly wrong.
She looked up, "Is that a question?"
"Huh?"
"You don't sound very convinced."
He wandered over and petted the hair flowing down her back, planting a kiss on her temple, "I'm just glad you're both safe."
She looked over at him and met his eyes, an understanding passing between them, "We are," she assured, "and Mike has an exciting new project he wants your help with," she prompted as she looked over at the boy. He was standing on his tip-toes and stirring a pot carefully.
"You do?" Michael asked.
"Mhmm," Mike turned to him, "we're having a contest to see who can build the best bridge out of toothpicks.
"Oh, are you now?" he replied an air of confident aloofness, "well I think I can certainly help with that," he looked to Sara, amused, who just shook her head and smiled.
She rubbed Mike's back as she moved past him to grab a few spices, "I told him that's your department, not mine. Mr. Engineer."
Michael smirked, "So what're the rules for this project? How many toothpicks…how big does it have to be…"
"I got the instructions in my backpack," Mike told him, and Michael followed, taking the paper Mike handed to him and skimming the instructions, growing more excited by the minute.
Mike pulled out a few boxes, "And we stopped at the store already and got these," he pulled out a few boxes of toothpicks and held them out to Michael who set them on the table and started to open them.
"Ah-ah," Sara called from the kitchen, "not there."
Michael, more disappointed than he wanted to be, "Then where? We need a flat surface."
"What about the patio table outside?"
"What if it rains? Or gets really humid? It'll mess with the wood-"
"-oh my god," she chuckled, "ok, uhh how about the counter?"
"How about we eat at the counter, and we build this on the table?" he knew he was pushing buttons now, but she was so cute when she was mildly irritated. She was still smiling which meant he hadn't gone too far, and the table really would work better.
She met his eyes, challenging yet still twinkling, then sighed and pointed the knife in her hand, "Ok, fine. We'll eat at the counter, just promise you won't get glue or whatever all over that thing."
He smirked, "Yes, mom," then looked at Mike, who grinned and took the seat next to him.
"Dinner will be ready in like…five minutes, guys. Don't get too invested," Sara warned, but Michael was already diving deep into the process.
"So," he asked Mike, "what're you thinking?"
