A/N: Thanks to everyone still reading- I'm really having fun with this story :) Hope you're enjoying it too! Feel free to leave a review; I love hearing from you all
XXXXXXX
"Whatcha thinking about?" Michael asked softly as the light just started to shine into their bedroom.
She didn't even realize that he was awake, his steady breathing next to her leading her to believe he'd finally succumbed to sleep. She'd been lying awake on her back, eyes mostly staying closed but occasionally venturing to open softly, not yet assaulted by a bright, day-time sun.
"I just wish I knew if he was okay," she blurted, not bothering to explain or give preamble.
"We have every reason to believe that he is," he replied, turning onto his side to face her.
"Just because you believe something doesn't make it true," she licked her lips, eyes fixed on the ceiling, "just because someone tells you something…"
She didn't want to elaborate on the other thing that was occupying her mind: her mind was faltering between reality and the illusions of her past years. Everything, anything, that Jacob had told her was in question. What did she really know? Nothing. Nothing at all. It felt like her mind was just combing through years and years of data, trying to draw meaningful conclusions, to take everything that had happened and try to find commonalities. Themes, patterns…anything that could be useful, conclusions that could be drawn despite the faulty data.
"About that," he started.
"Hmm?" she wondered, having no idea what he was about to say.
His eyes met hers, "Last night, talking with Mahone…you have no reason to feel bad about anything. Jacob kept you in the dark intentionally. Everything he didn't want you to know," he paused, "there's no way that you could have."
She sighed, "I just…I never thought I'd be that woman, you know? Lied to and mislead," she saw a slight flinch in his expression, realizing that those two particular grievances had come from him a time or two as well, "I didn't mean that-"
"-no, you're right," he grew quieter, "I'm very aware of how I hurt you."
"That was different," she shook her head with conviction, "you were doing it to protect your brother. Jacob was entirely self-serving through all of this. He didn't love me, not in any way that matters. He may have thought he did, but I know now that his ego is too big for that."
"True, but," Michael circled back around to his original point, "just…go easy on yourself. You couldn't have known who he really was."
She exhaled, slowly accepting his request, "I'll try."
XXXXXX
Michael sat at his desk, clicking his pen absentmindedly. He had to come in, they were in the midst of a project that he'd taken lead on, and as much as he hated to admit it, there was a lot to do, and he couldn't justify staying home.
Sara had started a fresh pot of coffee before he'd left, taking some with him in a travel mug and leaving the rest for Mahone who looked like he'd been up all night. He could only imagine the not-so-subtle reminder he'd get from Sara that he needs to sleep if he's going to be any use to them. The thought distracted him for a moment and made him smile; she was always looking out for everyone whether they appreciated it or not.
He eyes skimmed over the blueprints before him, but his mind wandered to Mike and his chest constricted. He'd been able to keep his cool so far, to be reasonably certain that Mike was safe. Alive and safe. But the tiniest doubt snuck in through the cracks, its entrance made easier by his distracted state of mind, unable to mend that crack quickly enough.
What if he wasn't okay?
His gaze swept over his desk and landed on the phone. He considered calling Jacob again and letting him know that they'd received his message loud and clear. He could ask for assurances that Mike was being taken care of, but really-what good would that do? Even if Jacob swore on a stack of Bibles that Mike was fine, would Michael trust it? Not really, but it could be better than nothing.
It might make Sara feel better, he considered, though he knew he was just trying to justify calling Jacob for his own peace of mind.
His hand reached for the phone and picked it up; he recalled the number from memory and pressed the buttons quickly, before he could change his mind. After being on hold for a moment and transferring a time or two, he heard Jacob's familiar voice, "Who is this?"
"I'll be brief," he replied, not bothering to answer his question.
An audible grin, "Please do."
"We just want to know that he's safe, and that he's being taken care of."
"He's fine," Jacob assured, "I would never want to hurt him."
"Ok, but "hurt" is a general term, don't you think? I mean, is he tied up somewhere? Is he being fed? I'm not just asking you if he's alive, I need to know that he's," Michael paused, "I need to know if he's okay."
"As I said, I never want to hurt him and that includes all physical and emotional means of harm. I care about him, and he's being taken care of in the way that any concerned parent would want. He's with a capable adult who wants nothing but his health and happiness."
"Who would want to take care of him like that, aside from us?" Michael asked, knowing Jacob's lips would likely be sealed, but he had to at least try to elicit any kind of a response that could clue him in to where Mike might be.
"A lot of people, Michael," he purred, "there are still good people in the world, or did you forget that?"
Michael didn't respond.
Jacob continued, "Now that you've been assured of his safety, perhaps we can discuss where we go from here?"
Michael's jaw clenched. He wasn't breaking Jacob out- that idea was off the table, but he'd given it a lot of thought and knew that the best way to keep Mike alive was to string Jacob along and make him think that an escape was in the works. He had to buy them time.
"I'm working on it."
"Is that a yes?"
He paused for a beat, "Yes."
Jacob exhaled excitedly, "Timeline?"
"Not sure yet."
"Come on, Michael, you never go a day without a plan, don't start now."
"It's a bit more difficult from the outside, remember? That's the whole reason you threw me into so many prisons- so that I could break out. Breaking someone else out from the outside is a new kind of challenge."
"You did it for Sara."
Because I love her, he thought with venom, but kept that to himself.
"It makes it more challenging," he repeated, not wanting to follow Jacob down the rabbit-hole of motives and love and anything that might give him the opportunity to talk about Sara anymore. He didn't deserve the chance to even say her name as far as Michael was concerned.
Jacob grew more irritated, a huff, "Well, I can't wait forever."
Michael's hand froze, halting the pen clicking, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Eh," he sighed dramatically, "this whole prison thing really isn't for me. I'm thinking that in a few weeks I'd really like to be on the outside again…what do you think about that?"
There it is, Michael thought with a sinking stomach. There's the deadline, and the horrendous insinuation that Mike would be harmed if Michael failed to get Jacob out before then.
He gulped, "Can you be more specific?"
"Two weeks. I'm pretty sure you know what happens otherwise."
After a moment, "Understood," he replied softly, clicking the phone back down and staring vacantly at the wall that was opposite from him. It was only ten a.m.; was there any hope for more work today? Two weeks, and his son would be hurt or possibly worse, and he was supposed to sit here and draw up designs for a new office space downtown? He couldn't do it. He grabbed his things and left the office- he briefly, apologetically informed his boss that he needed to be off for two weeks for a family emergency. His feet carried him out to his car, but no matter how quickly he drove, he couldn't seem to get home fast enough.
XXXXXXXX
Jacob rested on his back, staring up at the bunk above him. The phone call had given him a lot to think about, which helped pass the time as the hollering and buzzing around him faded into a kind of white noise, one that he was growing used to.
Did he trust Michael? That was the question at the root of all of his troubles. He had, at one time. They'd been a team of sorts, despite the obvious difference in rank. Jacob had owned him, but their operation still depended on some level of trust between the two of them, that one man would keep his word as long as the other man did the same. Jacob promised not to go after Sara or Lincoln or anyone else Michael cared about, as long as Michael helped break out whoever he assigned him to next. The arrangement had worked; hell, it had worked better than Jacob had anticipated. Michael was incredibly skilled at break-outs (that was the one and only compliment he'd give him), but this time was somehow even more personal than it had been before, and it left Jacob wondering if Michael's words meant anything anymore.
Various different scenarios began playing through his mind, and the possibility of breaking himself out crept into his consciousness more than once. He swatted it away like a fly each time, dismissing it before allowing it to blossom into an actual idea, but as time drifted by and he realized how limited his options were, he finally let himself wander down that path.
He considered Michael's original escape from Fox River but knew that the magnitude of pieces that had all fallen into place…all of the right people doing the right things at the right time…it would be impossible to replicate.
He'd heard of inmates escaping during transport, but to where, and for what reason? He couldn't see getting transferred to a different facility- he had to be in a maximum-security prison and there would be no viable reason to request being sent to a different one than Fox River.
Growing frustrated, he pressed the heel of his hands against his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling a sigh and running his hands up and down his face. As they drifted lower, his fingers grazed over the scar where T-bag had tried to end him, and a glorious possibility sparked.
The hospital.
If he could get sent there again, he could have Emily on standby, posing as a prisoner transporter. Hell, given her current connections, she could probably get an official vehicle and uniform and everything. She may have to kill the agents who were actually assigned to transport him, but that was small potatoes. This new plan excited him, giving him the hope of another option, another way out. He could beat Michael to the punchline and escape before the two-week deadline. Would that be better? Inflict the most pain? Michael would waste all kinds of time figuring out how to get Jacob out of there, looking at every angle. Every contingency. All that work and Jacob would just slip out on his own anyways.
He couldn't help but smile, the elated feeling of superiority.
But how to get sent to the hospital again? He'd have to be careful. Whatever he did, it would have to be enough to warrant a hospital visit without actually threatening his life, and that was a very fine line. They handled a lot at the infirmary, so it would have to be pretty dire to have him shipped off again. He'd have to think about that one…figure out what level of harm he was willing to endure. Which body part he'd rather have damaged and suffering.
The initial luster of his plan started to wear off thanks to his current train of thought, but it didn't take all the fun out of it. It gave him something to think about, and certainly something to discuss with Emily the next time he got the chance.
XXXXXXXX
Sara pulled her phone out from the back pocket of her jeans and answered, "Hey."
Michael, panicked, "Where are you?"
"Getting coffee, why?"
Still rushed, worried, "Is Mahone with you?"
"Yea, we just wanted to get out of the house, have somewhere else to think," then, addressing his tone, "you're scaring me, what's wrong?" she demanded.
"I came home early and you weren't here-"
"-yea...sorry, I didn't tell you because I wasn't expecting you home so soon…Michael it's not even eleven, why did you leave work?"
"I'll tell you in person, which coffee shop?"
"The one on the corner of tenth and Murphy, Michael-"
"I'm on my way."
The line went dead and she blinked a few times, still processing the very hurried conversation she'd had. The café was bright and open, with graciously large tables that allowed them to spread out papers and computers and anything else that might help them figure this thing out.
Mahone peered at her over his glasses, "Everything okay?"
"I don't think so," she admitted as she pushed up the sleeves of her blouse and readjusted in her seat, "Michael left work and he's on his way here now."
"Didn't say why?"
"He said he'd tell us once he got here."
Mahone simply nodded and moved on, his eyes going back to his laptop.
They hadn't been at the café long; Sara had allowed Alex to work in solitude while she puttered around in the morning for a bit but eventually, curiosity got the best of her. She approached him and asked what he'd been able to find, and she could tell by the dullness in his eyes that he needed a break or at least a change in scenery. She suggested the latter, knowing that he likely wouldn't accept the offer of a break, and he'd agreed. They found themselves here, and had barely settled in when Michael called.
"So," she started, "what've you been able to find?"
"Well," his eyes lifted again to meet hers, "I found an address."
"Emily's?"
He tilted his head, "Kind of."
Her eyes narrowed, confused.
"I'll tell you both when Michael gets here, but for now…just know that I'm not sure if it's current, but it's the last one listed."
"You think Mike could be there?"
A sigh, "I'm not too hopeful. They're too smart to keep him somewhere that's that easy to find."
"We have to check."
"And we will, I'll have a unit sent there now if you'd like, but like I said…I'm not hopeful."
She shrugged, "We have to try. If he's there and we dismiss the idea because it's too easy…" she scoffed, "Jacob could be playing us. I mean, he knows we're assuming that every single plan he has is complicated and nuanced. A simple plan, hiding him in plain sight would be so far from his M.O. that he might just do it to throw us."
Mahone tilted his head back and forth, considering this and seeing the validity, "You've got a point. I'll call and have units sent over to take a look."
She could tell by the tone in his voice that he still wasn't optimistic. It felt like he was humoring her, but she knew she'd never forgive herself if they failed to follow a lead because it was too simplistic.
A figure walking towards them had her gaze swiveling. Michael approached their table and took a seat opposite from Sara.
"What's going on?" she asked, feeling more worried now that she could see his pale appearance and caved- in posture.
"We have two weeks."
Mahone's head popped up now, a brief flicker of panic in his eyes.
"Until what?" Sara asked slowly, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it out loud.
Michael rested his forearms on the table, reaching across it to place his hands over hers, "He said if I don't break him out in two weeks, then he'll…he'll hurt Mike."
Sara exhaled heavily, her chest caving in, her worst fears confirmed all over again.
"I can fix this," Michael assured.
"How?"
Mahone's eyes rested on him as well, awaiting an answer.
He spoke softly, "I'm not sure. Not yet, but we'll figure this out. I'm not letting him win."
Sara hated that she didn't have any answers herself- that she felt useless and at the mercy of Jacob...and Michael's ability to outsmart him.
Mahone cleared his throat, "I was just telling her that I found an address for Emily, I'll have units sent there now to check it out."
"He won't be there," Michael replied, his hands sliding off of Sara's and one of them coming to rest against his chin.
"Probably not, but we have to try."
"What else did you find out about her?," Michael asked, "About Emily."
"Not much," he admitted, "her personal life is non-existent, at least…she doesn't have a digital one. No social media accounts, barely any credit card history or online shopping."
"No recent purchase of duct tape and rope, huh," Michael added sarcastically, sighing.
"Her history at the CIA is interesting though," Mahone went on.
Sara, "How so?"
"Well, she worked there for close to eight years before she dropped off, I'm assuming that's when she joined twenty-one void."
Michael nodded, agreeing that it was plausible.
"And from what you said, you believe she works for the CIA again now, right?"
Slowly, "Right," with a slight questioning tone.
"Her name didn't come up in any of my searches, so I looked through pictures and found this," he turned the laptop around, showing a CIA I.D. photo of Emily, but under it was the name Katie Stevenson.
Sara sat up straighter, leaning in, "That's definitely her."
Mahone, to Michael, "Looks like you weren't the only one who got a name change."
"That's why you're skeptical about the address," Sara noted, "because it's under Emily's name and not under Katie."
"That's right."
"So, does Katie own any property?" Sara asked.
"Not that I can find. Look," he turned the laptop back towards himself and sighed, "Jacob is clearly skilled at changing identities and hiding information about people. Beyond having units check out the one address I could find, we need a new approach...one that he won't see coming."
Michael, "Any suggestions?"
He thought for a moment, "Does Emily…Katie, whoever…does she like kids?"
Sara scoffed, "Doesn't seem like the most maternal person to me."
Michael tapped his chin, following Mahone's train of thought, "You think it isn't Emily that's watching him."
A nod, "I'm guessing that Jacob has more uses for her than being a babysitter."
Michael, "So, you think they found someone else to watch Mike."
A shrug, "That's my guess."
Sara wrapped her hands around the mug in front of her, lukewarm now against her fingers, "So what do we do?"
"I can start going through her messages, internet searches…see who she's been in contact with lately."
Michael, "If she's in contact with Jacob or anyone else related to this it won't be on her personal cell, she'd use a burner. It'll be untraceable."
Mahone shrugged, "Everyone makes mistakes."
