A/N: Thanks again for your reviews, they keep me going :D Happy reading!
XXXXX
Mike sat in the back of a car and struggled to get comfortable. His hands were bound in front of him with a zip tie, and so were his ankles.
He recognized his captor now that her hat and sunglasses were off; it was the blonde woman he'd seen in their house before- the one who shot Jacob. The one who pretended to be his mother, sitting in a chair with a wig on.
She confused him; she'd shot Jacob, but then helped him later on. Mike wasn't sure what to think of her, but he knew that right now he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Don't be scared," she told him in a flat tone, watching him from the rearview mirror, "we won't hurt you. Your father just wants to be with you again, that's all."
He's not my father, he thought, but bit his tongue.
"Where are we going?" he asked, wondering how long he'd be gone…sad that he didn't have anything with him.
"I'm taking you somewhere safe, somewhere you can live until he can be with you again."
"He's in prison," Mike replied with certainty, "he's going to be in there for years…does that mean I'll be away from home for that long?"
"No," she shook her head, "he won't be in prison for much longer. He wants to see you again, and to be with you."
"I want to go home," he replied quietly.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," she told him, a sternness in her voice he didn't dare question, "you'll be ok. Just relax, we'll be there before you know it."
He sighed and obeyed…for now. As soon as he figured out where they were going, he could start working out a way to get back home.
XXXXXXX
Sara dropped her keys on their counter and wandered into the living room like a zombie, her gaze vacant and unseeing.
"Veronica is talking with the police," Michael told her as he hung up the phone, approaching her from behind and putting a hand gently on the small of her back, "told us not to worry about any of that…the legality of it all."
"Mmm," was all she could reply.
"He'll be okay."
She turned to face him, a breathy, "How can you say that?"
"We expected this," he elaborated, "we knew this was going to happen, but now we can-"
"What?" she demanded, "we can what? We have no idea where he is or where they're going. We don't know if he's okay-"
"Jacob doesn't want him hurt."
"Unless we give him no other choice," she reminded him, parroting back his words from the other day.
"He made it sound like that was very much a last resort, not a first move."
She scoffed, "That's comforting."
"It is though," Michael insisted, "look, I'm not happy about this either, but we have something to go off of now. He just committed a crime. Whatever his next moves are, hopefully they incriminate him even further-"
"-he's already serving life in prison. What does another crime really do to him, huh? That doesn't help us!"
"It gives us grounds to…" his voice faded away.
"To kill him," she finished with quiet contempt, then added a, "won't you have to break him out first?"
"Not necessarily."
She sighed, "Care to explain that?"
She heard the edge in her voice; she'd been aware of it since they drove home from Veronica and Lincoln's place. She was afraid, hurting, and couldn't do much to smooth out the edges. It wasn't her intention to take it out on Michael but right now, he was the only person around and so all of her anger and fear was being spat in his face.
"T-bag," he replied, "we could ask him to try again."
"That doesn't bring Mike back," she reasoned, "if Jacob is dead then we have no way of finding him."
"Fair point," he replied, then considered a moment before changing course, "then we have to get Jacob out of prison but keep him in our custody. He needs to be there to get us to Mike, and then when we get him, we-"
"-he won't let that happen," Sara shook her head and sighed, "you know he'll have a backup plan, and a backup plan for the backup plan. He'll have a way around everything we could possibly plan."
Michael's voice grew quieter, "You say that like you think…like he's too smart. Like we've already lost."
She finally met his gaze and saw the sting in his eyes, "I'm sorry," she told him, "I didn't mean that I just mean," she sighed and ran a hand through her hair, trying to decide what exactly she was trying to say, "I just mean that this whole thing is too obvious. He wants freedom and Mike, and I can't see him willingly give one up for the other. He's playing it like Mike is just a bargaining chip, but I'm guessing he's more than that, that Jacob wants it all."
Michael perched on the edge of the couch, "That would be consistent with everything we know about him."
A moment, "Yea…"
Michael's phone chimed and he answered, "Hey, any news?" he paused, listening, "okay, thanks. Yea, we'll let you know if anything changes."
He hung up and looked back to Sara, "That was Veronica, she said they've got a BOLO out, but since we couldn't get a look at the vehicle, it's just Mike's description along with the description of the captor…but who knows…they might've changed into something else by now…" his voice faded.
"I just hope he's okay," she almost whispered.
"He's smart," Michael observed, hands still fidgeting with his phone, "and we warned him about this. He knows the address and phone numbers, knows how to get back-"
"That only helps if he's ever in contact with another adult who can help, though," she pointed out, "if they lock him up in a basement somewhere, then knowing our number doesn't do him any good."
Michael's hand reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his head lowering slightly, which Sara knew was a tell-tale sign of stress for him. She needed to back off and let him think.
Her stomach growled, and she realized that in all the chaos, none of them had ever ate, "Sorry I'll uh, I'll make some breakfast or…lunch," she glanced at the clock, "you do whatever you need to do."
XXXXXXX
After driving for a few hours, Emily turned up a long driveway and approached the beautiful home that Hannah owned. Emily had been in contact earlier, after she got Mike, letting the expectant mother know about what time they'd be arrived and getting assurance that she was ready to welcome a child into her home.
They'd been in contact a bit in the past few days, making sure Hannah understood what to expect with Mike, and what was expected of her.
Mike had been quiet aside from a few questions, and Emily was grateful for it yet slightly confused. Despite his thoughtful, quiet tendencies, he was still a child and she'd expected more blubbering and crying. His calm demeanor was somewhat unnerving, like she could see the wheels turning behind his eyes and feared that he was even smarter than she'd anticipated.
But he wasn't her problem anymore.
"Alright, get out," she requested as she opened the door.
He glanced down at his feet still bound by the tie and she muttered, "Right," and pulled out her pocket knife, swiftly severing it and the one on his wrists, and allowed the boy to hop out.
"Where are we?" he asked, looking around at his new surroundings.
"This is where you'll be living for a while," she explained as she grabbed his hand firmly. She couldn't give him the chance to run, but didn't want to yank his arm or have it appear as though he were being dragged against his will.
They walked up the stone steps together and onto the front porch as the door opened.
Hannah stood just inside the doorway; she was of average height and lean build, with blonde hair that hung down to her mid back in loose curls. She had on a fitted gray sweater, and jeans that were tucked into tall brown boots. A warm smile spread across her face and Emily could see the sparkle in her eyes, the excitement. Emily almost felt guilty, knowing that Mike wouldn't be with her for any great length of time, assuming everything went according to plan.
"Hi Mike," Hannah greeted as she stepped back and allowed them to enter, "I'm Hannah, it's so nice to meet you."
Mike glanced to Emily and back to Hannah, offering a polite yet hesitant, "Hi," before the continuing to look around.
"He's all yours," Emily told her and turned to leave, grateful to have this part over with, and ready to make an important phone call.
XXXXX
"It's done?" Jacob asked again into the phone, a glee in his voice, "it's…you really did it?"
"Don't sound so surprised," Emily replied with an air of confidence, "he's with her now, safe and sound."
"And they don't know where he is?"
"How could they?"
"I just mean…no one saw you?"
"The other kid did, but I'm not worried about her."
"Charlotte," he supplied, "but none of the adults saw you or what you were driving, you're sure?"
"As sure as I can be, I kept an eye in the rear view, and no one came outside before we turned the corner onto a different street."
"Good, that's good," he sighed a bit of relief.
"So, what's next?" she asked.
"Well, that's up to Michael."
"You're really just leaving the ball in his court?" she wondered, skeptical.
"I didn't say I didn't have a plan B, or C…or D, but yes. For now, I'm just waiting to see what his next move is."
XXXXXXXX
After having something to eat, Michael knew he needed to get out of the house. He did his best thinking either in silence and stillness or by moving around a bit, and going for a stroll might be the best way to clear his head and get some space.
"I'm gonna go walk for a bit, I shouldn't be gone too long," he told Sara.
She looked up from the sink where she was putting the dirty dishes, "Okay, just be careful."
"I will."
"And hey," she moved towards him, grabbing his arm gently before he could leave, "don't think too hard, okay?"
He smirked, leaning in to kiss her before grabbing his keys and phone, slipping on his shoes and walking out into the sunlight.
It was a beautiful day, really. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and clean, the humidity of late summer starting to loosen its grasp, allowing for a few previews of the cooler autumn air to come through. It felt unfair, how the world could still be beautiful and peaceful when his inner world was spiraling out of control. How could everything outside seem so normal, as if nothing bad had happened?
He shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking down the sidewalk, allowing his thoughts to wander freely, lulled by the rhythm of his steps.
Trying to find Mike felt like a fruitless endeavor; they had nothing to go on. He considered reaching out to Mahone- he'd heard that he cleared his name and got re-hired with the F.B.I. If anyone could find Mike, it was him; he was a good detective, and clearly, finding people was one of his stronger skills.
Michael made a quick mental list to support that claim: Mahone had found Michael and Lincoln on several occasions…found Michael and Sara at the rendezvous point. He'd tracked down Wyatt and figured out how to find the owner of the first Scylla card.
Yup, now that he really thought about it, asking him might not be a bad idea, and it might not be as helpless as he feared. With the F.B.I resources, there might be enough of a breadcrumb trail to find where they could be keeping Mike. The tricky part would be the covert nature of all of Jacob's operations; he was good at hiding things, and his associates must be too. Covering his tracks was second nature to Jacob but uncovering them was Mahone's. Michael decided then that asking him wouldn't hurt anything, and made a mental note to do so after looping Sara in.
The next issue on his mind was Jacob and the great question of whether or not to break him out. Or, to tell him he'd break him out but then not actually go through with it, or to break him out and then kill him. The possibilities were limitless and tangled up inside his mind. He tried a thought experiment, tried following each of those possibilities down each of their respective paths, but kept finding himself unable to continue without knowing how Jacob would respond at several key junctures.
His instinct told him it was a bad idea; first, he'd have to figure out the actual escape…again. He wasn't going back to Fox River- been there and done that, for Lincoln. He refused to serve any more time behind bars for Jacob. He'd already done seven years too many.
But breaking him out from the outside seemed like an impossibility; if it had been possible, he would've done that in the first place with Lincoln.
He kicked a loose stone on the pavement and allowed a wave of frustration. A part of him was starting to believe that asking Mahone for help was his best option- to find Mike on their own while simultaneously stringing Jacob along, allowing him to think that Michael was working on an escape plan. Jacob would be satisfied, or at least not actively fighting against Michael- he'd be under the illusion that they were somewhat working together.
But then what? They find Mike and bring him home, only to have this same exact thing happen again, or even something worse? He shuddered at the possibility, the anger and betrayal that Jacob would feel would almost certainly manifest in physical harm to Michael or his family. That couldn't happen.
T-bag popped into his head again, but was their any chance of him getting to Jacob? Was he even willing to anymore? If there was one thing he could rely on when it came to T-bag it was that he couldn't rely on him. Had that changed, though? Everything that happened with Whip, the fact that he did reach out to Lincoln with Michael's photo from Ogygia…he helped Sara…
Michael realized he'd walked in a big square around several blocks and was almost back home. The walk had helped, and although he didn't have a plan with complete certainty, he felt a lot less jumbled than he did when he left. He hadn't expected certainty- he knew that was a pipe dream. Everything was a gray area with Jacob and these kinds of things, an uncertain string of events that required the ability to switch horses, to adjust accordingly. It was a dance, a game, and one that Michael had gotten quite good at, but this time felt different because the roles were reversed; Jacob was the one behind bars and Michael was on the outside.
Freedom was well and good, but he had to admit that being on the other side gave him a strange, backwards feeling that had him a bit off balance. He had friends, family, allies…access to information he never had on the inside. The fact that he could just call Mahone and ask for help was something that genuinely hadn't occurred to him. He never had those resources in prison and besides- asking for help wasn't something he was known for.
He walked up to their house and unlocked the door, finding empty silence. He wandered though and up the stairs, finding their bedroom and Mike's room vacant. It occurred to him that Sara might be outside, probably digging around in the garden some more if he had to guess- a project to keep her mind occupied. He opened the sliding door and found his suspicions confirmed; she was kneeling on the ground and pulling weeds.
"Hey," he greeted as he shut the door, not wanting to startle her.
She turned, "Hey."
"So, it might not be much, but I have an idea of where we could start."
XXXXXXX
Hannah tried to hide her surprise as Emily abruptly left without so much as a proper goodbye. She hadn't been particularly warm or personable over the phone, but Hannah would've hoped for a slightly more…gentle transition for Mike instead of a, "He's all yours," and the door slamming behind her.
She turned her attention to the child before her; he was standing with his arms hanging by his side, though they weren't relaxed. His body language pointed slightly away from her, his feet angling sideways and towards the door. Everything about his nonverbals screamed that he wanted to escape, and she needed to make sure that didn't happen.
"Hey, are you hungry, I was just making lunch?" she offered casually, hoping to redirect his attention, "why don't we go into the kitchen and get you something to eat. It's this way," she started walking slowly in that direction, hoping he'd follow.
He stood his ground, "I want to go home, I don't belong here."
She sighed, though she wasn't surprised to be getting into his delusions so soon, "How about we eat first, and then we can talk about it, okay?"
He looked at his feet, "I'm not hungry."
She crouched down to his level, "You haven't eaten all day, you must be hungry, just a little bit?" she winked and smiled softly, "you're safe here, you've got nothing to worry about."
He studied her for a moment, his eyes searching hers, a slight furrow between his brows, "Ok."
She'd made grilled cheese, figuring that most kids would like it, and he didn't complain. She tried to discretely watch him; he sat on a bar stool at the counter and ate slowly. He didn't seem stressed, which she found slightly odd. Most kids from broken homes, who'd been tossed around in the system weren't always well nourished and weren't used to having regular access to meals. He, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit worried about the food before him and took his time.
When he finished his sandwich he looked a bit nervous, fidgeting with his hands, before speaking, "I need to call my parents, they'll be worried about me."
She stood on the opposite side of the counter, facing him, "Honey, you don't have parents," she reminded him gently, "that's why you're living with me now."
"Yes, I do," he replied firmly, "I do, and I know how to call them I just…I just need to call them."
This wasn't going to be easy, she realized, but spent the rest of the day trying her best to distract him. He seemed reluctant to most things; wary of her. Looking at her like she meant him harm, and she did everything she could think of to assure him otherwise. One thing was for sure; they had a long road ahead of them and getting him to settle in was going to be a challenge. She'd anticipated this but didn't realize quite how deeply rooted his delusion about his "real family" were. They'd have to talk about it, to try and figure out where these ideas came from. She had the time and the skills required, but it didn't make it any easier. Her heart went out to him, wishing she could more gently break him of this idea, and to help him forget about his "other family," and to move on in his life with her.
