A/N: Another chapter for you! I really appreciate the time ya'll take to review and follow and all the things ;) Happy reading!
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"Nothing," Mahone reported to Michael and Sara as he snapped his phone shut. They were back at the house, after Mahone had called units to go check out Emily's last known address.
"Not surprised," Michael replied, "did they find anything else that could be useful?"
Shaking his head, "The place was pretty empty. Not vacant but they said that it was just the basics, you know? Bed, a few dishes, nothing personal on the wall."
Sara, "Guess that makes sense…I doubt she's sentimental, and she had to be able to up and leave at a moment's notice."
"Right," Mahone agreed, "working as a secret agent usually means traveling light and having very few personal items."
Sara looked at the two men and could practically see the life draining from their eyes. They were tired, and so was she. Mahone hadn't slept at all and Michael's brain was firing on all cylinders which was great, but it also meant that his mental battery would drain faster, and he never seemed to realize when he was due for a good re-charge.
She lightly touched Michael's arm, "Why don't we sit outside for a bit," nodding to the patio set on the deck, "I'll get some snacks and we can take a little break."
He replied with an exhausted, "We don't have time for a break."
"Fine," a small huff, "why don't you both go sit out there and I'll bring some food out…fresh air will do you good, and you can still talk about everything."
He started to protest, but she interjected with, "It's not a break if you're still figuring things out. You'll just be outside and eating while you do it."
Mahone helped her out and spoke to Michael, "Come on, let's go," as he grabbed his files and nodded towards the door. Michael followed him, and Sara began rummaging around the kitchen. She was in no mood to actually cook, but they couldn't run on coffee and stress alone. After going through a few cupboards, she found an array of snacks- chips and dip, pretzels, trail mix. Whatever. She grabbed it all and hauled it outside, setting it on the table between them. She needed to get groceries but that was super low on her priority list right now and considering they hadn't asked for food at all, this would suffice.
It was sunny and comfortably warm, with the late afternoon sun still shining brightly even as it began lowering towards the horizon. A slight breeze played with her hair as she inhaled deeply; it felt like it was the first breath she'd taken all day. The stress, the work, the stifling indoor air…she was glad they'd switched it up a bit.
She sat down next to Michael, who was leaning back slightly in his chair with his hand on his chin. He'd glanced over briefly when she set the food down, but wasn't making a move to touch it.
She exaggerated her movements, playfully pushing the chip bag closer and closer to him, the bag making loud crinkling noises that he couldn't possibly ignore.
He finally met her eyes, a small smirk.
"Eat," she requested, though clearly not giving him a choice. He obliged, though his movements seemed to be on autopilot, his mind still clearly elsewhere.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she grabbed it, seeing a text from Veronica, "Hey, sorry to bug you I know you've got your hands full, but Linc cut his hand pretty bad at work earlier. I cleaned it but I think it's getting worse. He doesn't wanna go to the hospital but he's willing to see you *sigh*. Any chance you could take a look?"
She smiled to herself and typed back a, "Sure, we're home, you can stop by any time."
"Thanks, we'll be over shortly."
"Who was that?" Michael asked between bites.
"Veronica," she replied, "I guess Lincoln hurt his hand and she wants me to take a look. They're coming over soon."
He nodded, seeming happy about the prospect of seeing his brother.
"This is probably a stupid question but I have to ask," Mahone started as he grabbed a handful of pretzels, "have you considered other angles?"
Sara couldn't stifle a scoff, knowing that Michael had probably considered hundreds.
Michael answered more politely, "I have."
"To no useful end?" Mahone guessed.
A sigh, "Nothing concrete."
"I'm just starting to wonder if blindly searching for Mike is really our best option. From what you've said, Jacob doesn't want to hurt him….and he isn't going to-"
"-until two weeks from now," Michael reminded him, "he may be a liar, but he's a man of his word when it comes to threats. When he first tried to recruit me, he threatened my family. I didn't comply and Sara was thrown into prison just like that," he snapped his fingers before resting his hand on the table, a defeated gesture.
"Well, right now he's holding all the cards," Mahone went on, "he has something that we want and we have nothing."
"There's nothing we can have," Sara interjected, shrugging, "he doesn't want anything besides power and freedom. Respect…I guess. There's nothing he needs- he has money and he doesn't love anyone, which means there's no one to threaten. We can't find a way to leverage him if he doesn't need anything from us aside from breaking him out."
The sliding door opened behind them, Veronica greeting, "Hey guys."
"Hey," Michael and Sara replied in unison.
Lincoln followed Veronica and Sara glanced him up and down quickly- he did look a bit worse for wear. He looked a little pale, a thin line of sweat on his forehead despite the breeze and pleasant temperature.
"Lincoln, why don't you take a seat and I'll go get my kit," she stood up and offered him her chair.
"Thanks," he mumbled and sat down, saying something inaudible to Michael as Sara made her way into the house. She went up to the master bedroom and found her navy-blue medical bag in the closet, slung it over her shoulder, and went back downstairs.
All four of them were talking as she approached, a light-hearted, casual conversation. Her heart clenched with an overwhelming wave of relief; she was glad they came. Chatting with family about nothing important was a Godsend after the day they'd had.
"Alright, Lincoln let's take a look at that hand," she approached him and he scooted the chair further away from the table to give her room to work. She had a five-gallon bucket nearby from her hours spent gardening and grabbed it, turning it upside down and setting it in front of Lincoln to give her a place to sit.
She unzipped her bag and set it on the table, grabbing his arm and setting his wrist face up on her knee, slowly unwrapping the bandages. He winced a bit, and she walked the fine line between just ripping it off and trying to be as gentle as possible.
With the bandage off she could see the angry red gash staring back at her. She turned his hand a few different angles to get a better look…he probably should have stitches. Despite it having been cleaned it was clearly on its way to an infection, but since it was still recent, she might be able to get ahead of it.
"Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you really should have this stitched up."
Veronica, "I told you!"
Lincoln just smirked, and asked Sara, "How much do you charge?"
She scoffed, "I can't numb you here. Wouldn't you rather just go to the-"
"-I'm not paying someone that much to do something you can do here."
"Who said I'd do it for free?" she joked, but started digging out the necessary supplies from her bag.
"Thanks Sara," Veronica sighed, "I don't know why he won't just go in."
"I've been through a hell of a lot worse than this," Lincoln defended, "if it ain't life-threatening I don't need a doctor."
Sara eyed him.
"Except you," he amended, "you don't count."
She laughed, "Why's that?"
He shrugged, "Because. You don't have that cold, creepy…doctor-ey vibe they all have."
She laughed again, realizing how good it felt to actually smile, "Let's see if you still feel that way when I'm done."
"Eh," he brushed it off, "like I said…been through worse."
"Like what?" Michael prompted, sarcastically.
"Oh," Linc laughed, "let's see uhh…getting framed for murder. That was a good start. The riot you started where Turk almost killed me," he paused to think, "getting hit and ran off the road when I was in that prison transport van…then there's that thing you gave me to eat that made me puke my guts out-"
"-wait, what?" Michael asked.
"The pill. That little black thing-"
"-no not that," Michael clarified, "the van, what're you talking about?"
"The prison transport van, you remember?" he winced as Sara started working on his hand, "when I got cleared to see L.J. and got ran off the road. When dad found me."
Michael's eyes were staring at an empty spot on the table, and he gave no reply.
"Michael?" Lincoln asked, confused now.
"Prison transport," he mumbled, and Sara glanced over at him, making sure he was alright before continuing her work.
Mahone realized what he was thinking, "We could get Jacob that way."
Nodding, "If we can get him transferred, he'd be vulnerable. He'd be on the road with what, one or two guards?"
"Three," Lincoln supplied, "least that's what they had for me."
"Can you do that?" Michael asked Mahone, "request that he be sent to a different facility."
He grimaced, "That'd be a long shot. We'd have to come up with a valid reason to have him moved."
Sara had a thought, wondering if Jacob could be brought in for questioning regarding his work with twenty-one void. Alex was FBI and could maybe justify needing to interview him, but Jacob could arguably be questioned at Fox River…no need to be moved. She wanted to voice her thoughts but was too focused on Lincoln's hand and didn't trust herself to multitask…not when one of the tasks was poking someone with a needle.
"What if he was transported for some other reason?" Michael asked, "I mean, when Linc was transported it was for visiting L.J. We wouldn't have to try to move Jacob to another prison, we'd just have to get him on the road for something."
Sara silently thanked him for voicing her thoughts as she kept working.
"Like what?" Veronica asked, "What else do people get let out of prison for?"
"Injuries," Lincoln answered, "get hurt bad enough, and he'd get sent to the hospital."
"That already happened," Michael replied with a sigh, "and we missed our chance."
"You didn't know," Lincoln countered, "didn't know when T-bag was gonna make his move or that Jacob would survive."
"Re-creating that scenario might be difficult anyways," Mahone pointed out, "injuring him that bad without accidentally killing him…it's a fine line, and if he dies prematurely, we'll have no way to find Mike."
"So, we figure out another way to get him transported," Michael went on.
"Like what?" Veronica asked again with emphasis, hinting that she'd already posed this question and didn't get a viable answer.
Quieter, "I don't know. Yet. I'll have to think on it," Michael replied, leaning more forward now. Sara noticed he stopped eating but knew he wouldn't be in the mood to be nagged anymore. He had his thinking face on- she couldn't even see him, given her focus on Lincoln's hand but damn if she couldn't literally feel it. The wheels turning.
"Alright, almost done," she told Lincoln, finishing it up before wrapping his hand again.
She looked to Veronica, "If it gets any more red or swollen he will need to go to a doctor to get antibiotics. And if he gets feverish or anything-"
"-take him in," she glared at Lincoln, "hear that?"
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "Yea, yea."
XXXXXX
Mike stared out the window from his bedroom on the second floor. The yard was nice; it was wide and expansive, a long driveway that lead to the road which was hidden by a line of trees. The grass was manicured, and a beautiful fountain stood on either side of the front of the house.
He sighed, missing his parents.
There were worse places to be, he reasoned, but there was a deep unsettled feeling that he couldn't shake, and he didn't want to shake. He couldn't be here. He needed to be home.
There was no phone in the house- he'd looked around. Most people only had cell phones and he guessed that was the case for Hannah, too. She had it with her all the time either in her hand or pocket or purse, so he didn't think he'd have a chance to call anyone.
He considered running, but the idea scared him. Where would he go? They'd driven a long time to get here and he had no idea where he was or which direction to go. He remembered what his mom told him- to find an adult to help him. Someone who could call them or get him home. Only problem was…the lady who brought him here was an adult. Hannah was an adult. They didn't help him- they were keeping him from his family. How could he know who to trust?
Hannah was nice and he wasn't afraid of her, but her constant dismissal of his ideas was getting to him. He wasn't lying. He had a family. Why didn't she believe him?
XXXXXX
The group ended up ordering pizza for dinner. Veronica left temporarily to go get Charlotte, and was happy to pick it up on the way back if it meant she didn't have to cook dinner.
They all stayed at the table outside, enjoying the fresh air even as it began to cool down in the evening as the sun lowered. Sara went inside at one point and emerged with two of her sweaters and three of Michael's, offering an extra layer to everyone. She grabbed a blanket for Charlotte, who snuggled up in it on Lincoln's lap.
Michael lit the fire table and they ate pizza as the sky grew dark, the crisp, early autumn air making them both cold and cozy at the same time.
When Veronica and Lincoln left with Charlotte, Mahone excused himself to shower and get some sleep. Michael was glad; he was grateful for his help, and knew in his heart that they all needed sleep. He didn't like it- they fragility of his human form, his body's inability to keep up with the demands he placed on it. He needed sleep and he knew it, but it felt like admitting defeat.
He watched as Sara gathered all the plates and pizza boxes, and he helped her get the door, grabbing the blankets and extra layers and bringing them inside. He heard the shower running and realized he could use one too, excusing himself from Sara's company and going upstairs to get the water running.
His eyes were blurry and prickly, the feeling of being awake and open for too long. He allowed them to close as he stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pelt his skin, his head actually lowering and taking a moment to rest. Moments passed, and he knew he was gonna fall asleep in there if he wasn't careful. Forcing his eyes open, he washed up and got out, throwing on some clean, light-weight clothes to sleep in.
Sara was already in bed when he emerged from the bathroom, and the lamp on her side of the bed was all that illuminated the room. She was on her side and facing away from him, so he walked quietly across the carpet to his side, not wanting to wake her if she was already asleep.
Once on his side, he saw that her eyes were open, staring blankly at the wall across from her.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No," she admitted flatly, though she didn't sound sad, "tonight was nice. Seeing everyone and getting to just…have a normal night."
"It was," he agreed as he slid under the covers, "getting to poke Lincoln was probably fun too."
She chuckled, "It was good to feel useful. And I'm honored that he doesn't think I'm cold and creepy."
Michael laughed as he turned on his side to face her, "Yea, that's a huge compliment coming from him."
After a moment, when the smiles faded and the humor evaporated away, he reached for her, his arm enveloping her side and pulling her closer. Legs tangled together as she shifted into his chest, her arm wrapping around his waist and face into his collarbone. She held tight, and he could feel the desperation, the worry, radiating from her body and into his. He couldn't get close enough to her, even though they were clinging to each other in a firm embrace, it didn't feel like it could ever be enough.
"We'll be okay," he offered in a whisper.
She tilted her head up to meet his eyes.
"We'll be okay," he repeated, and waited another moment before lowering his lips enough to find hers. He kissed her slowly; the sleepiness mingling with the headiness he always got from her, his hand roaming down and slipping beneath her shirt, feeling the skin of her waist as he pulled her closer.
Her hand cradled his cheek, a gesture that always made him feel safer. Loved. When they broke apart, she closed her eyes and lowered her head, repeating his words back to him, "We'll be okay."
Hearing those words from her, he almost believed it.
