A/N: I had time to write and wasn't feeling it...so I went back and read some reviews from you all. It really does motivate me, so please if you're so inclined, let me know how you're liking this story :)
Slight trigger warning for this chapter- mentions of self harm. Brief and non-specific. Sexual content towards the end, but I don't think it enters the M rated territory ;)
XXXXX
Michael woke up late and noted that Sara was already awake and out of bed. He was surprised- sleep had eluded him for so many nights in a row, the fact that he'd awoken to sunlight streaming through the windows and an empty space next to him was foreign. Welcome, but foreign.
He took the opportunity to linger in bed for a while, letting the sleepiness come and go, gradually fading as his eyes ventured to stay open a little longer each time after closing them.
His mind went back to the night before and snippets flashed through his mind. Pizza and family, plans and obstacles. It had been a good night, despite their lack of real success with figuring out a way to get Mike back. It was nice to simply not be alone in it, but it was still bothering him that they'd made no real progress. He needed a breakthrough, but he had no idea what that could possibly look like.
Laying alone in bed, he allowed himself a thought experiment that he didn't often venture into- occupying Jacob's mind. Sure, he tried to see things from Jacob's perspective. After all, the best way to outsmart someone was to anticipate their moves and be one step ahead. To do that, he had to understand his enemy. That said, Jacob's mind wasn't a pleasant place to venture into, even if it was all pretend and he could come back to himself at any moment.
Still, he tried to consider what Jacob could possibly be thinking right now. He was likely stir-crazy, Michael reasoned, being at the mercy of Emily and whoever else might be assisting him while he rots in his cell. Would he really be doing nothing? That wasn't the Jacob he'd come to know. He always had a backup plan, and a backup to the backup.
The doorknob turned slowly and opened, Sara popping her head in and seeing him awake, she offered a greeting, "Morning."
"Morning," he sat up now and rubbed his eyes.
"Here," she handed him a mug of coffee and sat down on the bed, "you sleep okay?"
"Uh, yea," he replied, sounding surprised, "really well, actually."
"Must've needed it," she noted as he took a sip and then set the mug down on his side table.
He paused and exhaled audibly, "What do you think his plan B is? Jacob."
She looked surprised at his question, and clearly unsure of how to answer, "Uh," she scoffed, "your guess is probably better than mine." Then she paused to actually consider, "But you're right that he doesn't like to sit around and do nothing, I'm sure he has another potential way to get out of Fox River if you don't break him out."
"Like what?"
"I mean," she ran a hand through her hair, "escaping in the traditional sense isn't his forte, hence why he recruited you in the first place. Is there some way he could appeal his case and get a lesser sentence, or maybe get out for good behavior?"
"If he did that he'd still serve years before getting released, and I can't see him being okay with that."
She tilted her head back in forth, contemplating and agreeing, "True. Maybe he could pay somebody off? He does have a lot of money…apparently."
"If he paid off the Warden he'd lose his job. Same goes for a guard."
"Right, but," she shifted closer to him on the bed, "how much would it really take to make it worth their while? Guards don't get paid that much. If he paid them enough to get by, especially a guard close to retirement it might be a better deal for them than keeping their job."
"Only if they're willing to cross the border and start a new life," he pointed out, "aiding and abetting isn't something that goes unpunished."
"Don't I know it," she replied with an attempt at humor, but he felt a stab of guilt.
"Sorry about that."
She shrugged and winked, "It all worked out," and then she stood back up to leave, pausing in the doorway, "you know…he could try for the hospital again, too."
"What do you mean?"
"Getting sick or injured is a great ticket out. I can't tell you how many times inmates would lie to me about their conditions or fake an illness to try and get a night out of gen pop. Either they wanted to stay in the infirmary or get sent to a nearby hospital…it's safe, and it's better than a cell. I'm just saying…now that Jacob has been to the hospital once, he might think about doing it again."
"But like Mahone said, it would be tough to replicate. I mean, how could he know he wouldn't die or suffer permanent injuries?"
"He wouldn't," she admitted, "but it might be a risk he's willing to take."
Michael considered this, "How hard would it be to self-inflict a wound that would send him to the hospital? Would the doctor be able to tell he did it?"
Her hand fiddled with the doorknob, resting on it, "Depends on what he tries to do. I mean, with self-inflicted harm, forensics can tell by the angle of the gun or cut…the depth of it. Jacob doesn't do well with physical discomfort and I can't imagine him doing anything like that. An illness would be more his style but that's nearly impossible to fake."
"Not impossible," Michael hedged, remembering the time he nearly scalded his own forehead in Ogygia to convince the guards he had a fever.
She eyed him, "Why do I feel like there's a story behind that?"
"Uh," he stammered, "you know…diabetes," he chose a different story, one she was already familiar with. No need to have her worried about the various things he'd done over the years while they'd been apart.
"Right," she scoffed, "but fake diabetes wouldn't land him in the hospital. I don't know…I'm just suggesting that that's something he could try again."
He paused again, his eyes resting on the rumpled sheets in front of him, before his mind took a different course and he asked, "I wonder if T-bag is still after him."
"I think if he was, Jacob would be dead by now."
"But why stop?" Michael asked, "he wanted revenge and he's not one to back down."
She shrugged, "Why not call and ask?"
"I guess."
"It can't hurt and he may know things that could help us."
"That's true," he sighed, "I'll call."
XXXXXXX
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" T-bag answered the phone.
"Are you still after him?" Michael asked, getting right to the point.
He grimaced, "There's been a bit of a stall on that front I'm afraid-"
"-a stall? Why?"
He rested his arm on top of the phone, "Well, he's formed himself quite the little friend circle and I have a feeling if I make a move on him I'll end up six feet under right next to him."
"That's never stopped you before."
A sly grin, "I'm a changed man, only killing to avenge my boy and I don't wanna get tangled up in a mess with his new gang…although," his tone changed, realizing something, "they've been quite abrasive lately let me tell ya-"
"-Abrasive? How?"
"Picking fights with me…or, trying to, but I won't give them the satisfaction."
"Just you? Or with other inmates too?"
"Me, myself and I. It's like he has something out for me," he replied sarcastically, as if he couldn't fathom why Jacob would dislike him.
"He's trying to provoke you," Michael almost whispered, "Sara was right."
"Right about what?"
"Don't hurt him," Michael ordered, "that would play right into his plan."
T-bag laughed, "So you're telling me that hurting him would help him?"
"Yes. And I'm asking you not to do it. If you want revenge on him, you need to let us finish this from the outside. If you kill him, we'll never find Mike. And if you injure him and he gets sent to the hospital, he might try to escape during his transit back-"
"-find Mike?"
"He's gone…he was taken the other day. Jacob's behind it."
A pause, "I'm truly sorry to hear that. You uh," he gathered his last thoughts before hanging up, "you let me know if I can be of any assistance but until then…I won't lay a finger on him."
Genuinely, "Thank you."
XXXXXXXX
"Thanks for coming with me," Sara told Veronica as she grabbed a shopping cart.
Veronica fell into step next to her, "Oh, I was happy to. Linc is still off work so he can watch Charlotte. It's always so much easier to shop without her."
Sara chuckled, not doubting for a second that her rambunctious niece would be a lot to handle in a store. She sighed as they walked in, "It feels weird…being here, out in the world like nothing happened."
Veronica's eyes softened, "It's for the best, trying to maintain some kind of normalcy. Besides, you needed groceries," a shrug, "still gotta eat."
"Tell Michael that."
"Has he not been?" she asked, more concerned.
"I mean," she tilted her head back and forth, "kind of. I don't know. It's not really an issue yet but I have to remind him to, which is unusual."
Veronica shrugged, "He's never had a huge appetite. Not like Lincoln."
"True," Sara agreed, "but he usually remembers to eat on his own, you know? It's a pretty basic thing that I'm having to force him to do these days."
Softer, "Well, he's got a lot on his mind…he probably feels like he's under pressure."
As they turned down the first aisle, "I wish he didn't. I know he always thinks he has to solve everyone else's problems, but-"
"-but you're afraid it's at the expense of his own well-being."
She dropped a loaf of bread into the cart, "It always is."
"Well," she sighed, "you're doing what you can. If reminding him to eat is something you have to do right now, that's ok in the grand scheme of things. Once Mike is back I'm sure he'll be back to his old self. He's pretty resilient, after all," she joked.
Sara exhaled a laugh, agreeing reluctantly with an, "I guess."
He'd been through a lot and he was still here, still standing, still functioning. It was pretty remarkable, "Maybe I just need to get more junk food."
Veronica laughed, "It's all part of a grand scheme to get you to stop cooking him vegetables."
"Right," she piled on, "he's faking it- pretending to not want to eat so I'll buy all the crap he probably missed while he was away."
"I mean, it's a pretty good plan," Veronica joked and spotted something on the shelf, picking up a container of chocolate chip cookies, "these were his favorite when we were kids. His mom used to bake them all the time."
She grimaced, "You sure that wouldn't make things worse? You know…everything that went down with Christina?"
She raised her eyebrows, "You trust me? I guarantee you, this is the right move."
Sara smiled, "Fine, toss 'em in."
XXXXXX
Sara was putting groceries away in the fridge when Michael appeared behind her, offering to help.
Mahone was outside at the table, still trying to see if there was any viable way to track down Emily or if anything she'd searched on the internet would be useful. Sara couldn't bring herself to care anymore: she wanted Mike back more than anything, and had to constantly ignore the aching, empty feeling in her chest, but the logistics of it all was exhausting. She wanted a shred of routine and simplicity, to the point where putting groceries away was actually calming.
She realized Michael had been oddly quiet and she turned around to see him staring into the bag on the counter.
"You okay?" she asked.
"You got cookies," he said in disbelief, still staring at them in the bag, as if expecting them to vanish into thin air the moment he took his eyes off.
"Veronica insisted," she informed him, trying to read his expression.
A slow smile spread across his face as he reached in to grab them.
"You know," she warned him in a motherly tone, "normally I'd say you have to eat dinner first…"
He eyed her, a twinkle that she wouldn't dare snuff out of them, and she continued, "but I guess under the circumstances..."
He seized the moment and tucked them under his arm, heading out to the deck, "In that case, I'll be out here working."
"Uh huh, "working"," she teased.
He paused in the doorway, dramatically reminding her that, "What was it you told me yesterday? "To eat and work at the same time", right?" he held up the cookies and waved them at her, "I'm just taking your advice."
She scoffed through a smile, "Throwing my words back at me, I get it."
He shrugged with innocence, before offering a genuine, "Thanks for these," and headed out to join Mahone.
XXXXXXX
Emily was bored. She was back to work and trying to keep up appearances, but the clock was ticking by tragically slow and it was starting to get to her.
While helping Jacob, she'd managed to do everything he needed without taking time off from her actual job, and without raising suspicions. Now, it was getting more difficult to manage.
The timeline with Jacob had shortened. She'd only recently became aware of his two week deadline, and the days were starting to tick by faster than she'd anticipated. He was asking a lot of her, with no apparent regard for her daytime commitments. The worst of it all was that her day job wasn't keeping her super busy, but she still had to be there…stuck at her desk, wasting time that she could be using to help Jacob.
He needed a lot after he got out of Fox River: a new identity, money that was readily available, a place to live, credit cards, a new phone…the list went on and on. He chose Panama of all places and the irony of it all wasn't lost on either of them. Sure, it's where Michael had gone to as well, but Michael had his reasons in choosing Panama and Jacob saw their validity. He'd be free, and no one could take him back to the United States to pay for his crimes.
She'd heard from Hannah yesterday; the woman was a bit concerned over Mike's confidence in his family- his ferocious belief that he had a loving mother and father. Emily had been able to soothe her worries for now, but it was a concern that Hannah would eventually take Mike seriously. She just hoped that it would take longer than a few weeks, and they'd be in the clear by then. Jacob and Mike would be in Panama, and Hannah's opinion wouldn't matter.
She glanced again at the clock and felt a red wave wash over her body. How could time move so slowly? It was infuriating. In her pocket, she felt the weight of her phone. It was secure, but not as secure as her CIA computer, which was sitting blankly in front of her. She couldn't do research for Jacob here, not on her work computer. Her phone wasn't a great option either, but she was growing impatient, not wanting to have to go to the library again and use a public computer.
How bad could the consequences really be? She asked herself, carefully considering the odds of someone tracking her. Did anyone know she was involved? Did Michael or Sara have connections that would allow them to track her anyways? She'd be vague, she reasoned, and Google simple terms that would still allow her to make progress without giving anything away. Hell, she hadn't even figured out a city that Jacob could live in let alone a house to buy. She had a long way to go, and really needed to get started.
After winning the argument with herself, she pulled out her phone, opened the internet, and started typing.
XXXXXXX
"Hey," Michael greeted as he entered the bedroom. It was a little after seven; they'd already had dinner and were winding down for the night. Mahone had spent a good chunk of the afternoon working on things for his actual job, and said he was still behind, so Michael and Sara left him to his own devices. When Michael came inside from the brisk evening air to go upstairs, Mahone had already made his way back to the guest room with his laptop and phone, clearly intending to hole up and work in solitude.
"Hey, yourself," Sara replied as she finished washing her face in the bathroom. She'd already changed into a soft white shirt and a pair of gray shorts, standing in front of the mirror with her hair in a ponytail, dabbing her face with a towel.
He came up behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist, his fingers playing with the thin fabric of her shirt as his hands slipped beneath it, touching her waist.
She gasped and flinched, moving away from his touch, "God, your hands are cold."
He retracted them slightly but grinned, "Sorry." He smoothed her shirt back over her skin and rested his hands there again, his chin settling in the crook of her neck, "You doin' okay?"
She set the towel down, meeting his eyes in the mirror, "As good as can be expected, I guess."
"Me too," he admitted.
She turned around to face him, leaning her butt against the counter, her arms resting around his middle and eyes searching his. He kissed her, just a peck, and then another. She held him tighter, resting her head against his chest and he could feel her breathing against him.
He wished he could make it better, wished there was more he could do. Why did he constantly feel like he came up short? He was smart, sought out for his skills, but what did that really matter? All he'd ever cared about was family; his brother, Sara, and now, his son. What good was his world-class mind if he couldn't he protect them?
"Stop thinking so much," Sara mumbled into his chest.
"Hmm?" he came back to the present.
"I can feel it. I can feel the wheels turning in your head."
He cracked a grin, "Oh come on, you can not."
"Am I wrong?" she challenged, lifting her head and staring up into his eyes.
He hesitated, "No."
She laughed, and it made him realize just how glad he was that he wasn't in alone this time. He'd lost his son before, but in a different way. Last time, he knew Mike was safe and with Sara. He knew that Mike was loved and being taken care of. This time was steeped in uncertainty, and having Sara by his side was probably the only thing that was keeping him from becoming unhinged. Had he told her? Had he bothered to thank her or tell her how much it meant to him, knowing she was there, unwavering?
He felt the weight of her head on his chest as she snuggled in again, the two of them content to just stand there and hold each other.
She'd been his rock throughout all of this and he hadn't realized just how much he depended on her until now. He'd been so used to being alone and fending for himself that the idea of relying on another person was terrifying, and had his survival instincts threatening to kick in, to distance himself from anyone and everyone. Letting people in was dangerous, he'd lost too many friends…too many people he'd cared about over the years were dead.
Did he subconsciously push Sara away too? His stomach sank at the thought. He didn't, he was almost certain, but was he too laser-focused on besting Jacob? Had he been even vaguely aware of her well-being over the past few days?
His mind combed through her actions during the recent past and he noticed a pattern; Sara urging him to sleep, reminding him to eat…comforting Charlotte after they'd lost their own son, taking care of Lincoln and graciously offering Mahone a place to stay, taking care of him and anyone else who set foot in their home. She'd done it all, caring for everyone while somehow managing to stay upright, knowing that her son is out there somewhere, his condition uncertain. She took care of everyone else, and he couldn't remember a single moment where someone had really checked in on her.
He asked her how she was sometimes, in fact, he just had, but the simple answers weren't enough. She never elaborated.
She spoke again, "Wanna tell me what you're thinking about?"
He replied honestly, the word rumbling through his chest, "You."
She raised her head and met his eyes, her brows furrowed, "Why?"
"All you've done…for everyone, and you never ask for anything."
She looked genuinely confused, "What do you mean?"
"Taking care of everyone else. You're hurting, you have to be, and yet you still make sure everyone else is okay."
She shrugged, playing it off like it wasn't a big deal, but it was. He needed her to know that.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, "to help you. To make things better…even a little bit?"
She paused for a moment and then kissed him again, more deeply this time.
After the lengthy kiss and a reluctant parting, he almost whispered, "If that's how I can help…I should've asked earlier."
She chuckled and then replied with a more serious, "You're here. That's literally all I wanted for too long. I can't ask for more."
"But you can," he insisted, "me just being here isn't enough. I can do more and I want to help you," he could hear the stubbornness creeping into his voice. Clearly, she found it endearing and kissed his cheek before extracting herself from his arms, "where are you going?" he asked.
She walked over to the bed and sat down, pulling her hair tie out and shaking it loose, patting the bed next to her.
"You know I was kidding, right?" he ventured, not wanting her to think that he was so vain to actually suggest sex as a way to help solve all her problems.
"I wasn't," she grabbed his hand as he walked closer and pulled him onto the bed, falling onto her back as he eased down next to her. His mouth devoured hers, warm and wet, growing more and more urgent. It wasn't until his hand reached for her shirt again that she broke away, "Hold it."
"What?"
"Your hands are still freezing!" she laughed.
"They'll warm up," he defended with a child-like innocence.
"Not fast enough," she kissed him again, though keeping her own hand in a defensive position, ready to push back if he decided to press his icy skin against her side.
"It's cold outside," he reminded her between kisses, "but I'm inside now…" he reached for the hem of her shirt again.
"No," she almost whined, though through a laugh.
"It'll be bad for two seconds, and then you won't even notice it anymore."
She sighed dramatically, "Fine," and he braced his elbows on either side of her, sliding both hands underneath and snuggling them deep between her body and the bed. Her face contorted and back arched before finally, after a few seconds, easing back down, the look of discomfort starting…starting, to fade away.
"Better?" he asked with a smirk.
"Kind of," she reluctantly agreed, hinting that she still wasn't happy about what just happened, but that she'd get over it if he picked up where they'd left off.
He did, using his current position to pull her up, grabbing her shirt and pulling it over her head, then doing the same with his own and tossing them both aside.
Once she eased back down, her arms wrapped around his neck, holding the back of his head and keeping his lips against hers.
Everything felt so deep, so...raw. It was like this shared trauma was causing every nerve to fray, every pulse becoming palpable. They'd loved each other for a long time, but the connection felt deeper tonight, and Michael wasn't sure why or how that was even possible. Everything just felt in sync, despite how incredibly "off" his life had been lately, and he knew that the only person to thank for that was kissing him, loving him. In the end, he was certain, that was all he needed.
