To Protect Them
Time To Go II ( 14/15 )
Disclaimer: I know they're not mine. I'm old and tired so, PTB, please don't slap me around for playing with your toys.
Last Time: Sara wakes with Michael gone, Linc buried under the guilt of knowing what he must do when they return, and a certainty she can make it all right.
Making my father eager to meet and talk with me was easier than I'd hoped.
Voicing doubts about Michael was all it took.
Home a few days, having already handled several pressing matters essential to my plan, knowing full well he'd met with Lincoln and had been offered Michael's cooperation, I called him up, doing all I could to sound nervous and unsure while mentioning I feared Lincoln had found Michael, perhaps even seen him, without telling me.
As I suspected he would, he latched onto the notion instantly voicing similar concerns with insincere, manufactured words of disappointment and regret,
proclaiming he only wants what's best for me ' which makes my stomach roll with waves of nausea.
Knowing that comfort and caring are only a part of the deal when they fit his larger agenda, I hesitate - for drama - as long as possible, working up the illusion of broken-hearted, tear-drenched emotion, giving his mind and ego time to smell victory on the horizon before offering up what I know he will be unable to resist. " I keep thinking ... what if... What if Lincoln is keeping him from me because Michael doesn't want me or Emma? "
He goes silent for a moment as if he's stunned, mulling over the possibility before offering reassurances he doesn't mean in the same smooth, confident tone of voice I've spent a lifetime hearing as he muttered campaign promises he never intended to keep.
Leaving him to it, not saying a word, knowing how his mind works far better than I care to admit, I listen to his words while he works the issue like the fine-tuned politician he is, stumping first for - and then against - until my lack of response prompts what I know is the inevitable last resort of a face-to-face meeting.
Oozing kindness, I wonder if he is even capable of feeling, aside from being part of a means to an end, playing the role of the caring father I never really had. " Enough of all that for now. Listen... I haven't been there for you though all this, like I should have, and I'm sorry. No matter what I felt or feel now, you're what is and should be most important to me. I want to make it better... make it right! I need to be there for you and my granddaughter. We'll work though this Scofield mess together ... somehow... I promise you that. For now, let’s start with you and me."
Fixated on his goal, no thought of what it is a I want or need even daring to cross his mind, he issues a demand disguised as an invitation and sets the stage.
" You'll come to dinner tomorrow night. Spend the evening together. Well share a meal, talk, find a solution to your problem. Some time together...just the two of us."
Getting an evening free to do what I needed to do was easy.
Lincoln had been on me, endlessly, for months on end about the importance of making time for myself for both my own and Emma's sake, so the mere mention of dinner out with an old friend had him more than eager to take her off my hands, freeing me for the entire evening.
Motherhood brings on many changes, including a unique fiercely protective bravery in the face of anything that may harm your child. A change that serves me well and stops me from backing out, turning the car around, and slinking back home in defeat three separate times during the drive over to my father's home.
Fear and doubt do their best best to hold me back, yet fail miserably when forced to do battle with that tiny voice in my head reminding me that, in the end, nothing but my child's happiness really matters - something I know he doesn't feel, is likely incapable of understanding, if and when the thought should happen to cross his mind - pushing me onward until I am standing at the door.
My worst fears come true, strengthening my resolve all the more when he, upon answering the door, fails to ask after her, fails to notice her absence at all, as he greets me with the same polished, superficial demeanor I've seen him use on campaign contributors dozens and dozens of times.
Filled with bouts of broken, stilted small talk, dinner passes relatively quietly, allowing me to move quickly forward to getting him, both of us, into his office, near his safe, alone.
" Senator Bailey is married, right? I'm not sure but I think I met his wife once.
tall ... blonde? Donna, I think?
Curious at the mention, my finally saying something to capture his self-centered interests, he sets his fork on the plate with a loud clang, leaning gleefully back in his chair, waiting eagerly to hear what I have to say.
" Yes. That's right... Donna Bailey. Bailey's married, has been forever. Why do you ask? "
Knowing I have him hooked, eager to get myself into his office, to get my hands on what I need, I reel him in with what I know he won't be able to resist. " I saw him in Mexico last week. At least I'm pretty sure it was him... I haven't seen him in ages, but it looked like him, and if it was 'him,' he's got a big secret in the form of a tall, half-his-age brunette - most definitely not Donna Bailey - companion hidden away on a beach in Mexico."
" You're sure it was him? "
He sits up, leaning toward me, eager for the dirt, just as I knew he'd be. " You've got to be very sure on something like that, Sara. You're positive it was Bailey? "
" I'm pretty sure... I haven't seem him in a while but... Wait! He's in one of the pictures you have on your office wall isn't he? If I saw him again I could be sure..."
He nods and rises out of his chair, motioning for me to follow, a wicked half smile spreading across his face at the thought of getting the upper hand on a man better than himself.
Stepping inside the office, walking a few steps behind, having every intention of choosing just the right moment to confront him, I loose the ability to hold back the instant I hear the heavy door close behind me.
" Give me the disc..."
With his back to me, he stops in front the picture I'd convinced him I needed, frozen in place, considering his words before turning slowly toward me while offering what I'd anticipated.
" Disc? What disc? ...I'm afraid I have no idea what disc you're..."
Impatient, disgusted, every inch of my body aching with the pain - pain I've held back, refused to let take hold of me until that very moment of losing Michael - I reach into the bag hanging low over my shoulder, pulling it out as the bag drops to the floor with a loud thud. " You let me go through it alone. You had the power to bring him back all along but you let me go it alone! I delivered my baby without her father there. I was scared ... lonely... I needed him more that you could ever understand, and YOU kept him from me on purpose. "
Eyes trained on the gun in my hand, he speaks with and oddly smooth, even tone.
" You're gonna kill me, Sara? Shoot me? You're acting crazy ... give me the gun.
now ... please, Sweetheart. I'll get you help...we'll forget this ever happened..."
He tries to remain calm, speaking softly, soothing me like a child in a the middle of a temper tantrum, but a slight tremble in his hands resting limp against his sides paired with tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow gives his fear away.
Holding the gun firmly in both hands - suddenly steadier that I ever imagined they could be- I level it at his head, making my demands verbally, as well as psychically.
" Walk around the desk. SLOWLY Open the safe in the left hand bottom drawer and give me the recording T- bag sent you ... give me everything... all of it! "
He looks over, disappointment - something I'm more than use to seeing - written all over his face, watching my every move as he goes over to the desk.
" Burrows told you? "
" He ... they ... they told me nothing! Not a word. They never intended to involve me, but I overheard them talking. They kept it from me because you told them they had to and, unlike yourself, they're good, decent men who keep their word. They did as you asked, following your lead, no matter what it cost them, because, unlike you, the one thing that mattered most, worth any price, was the welfare of my daughter."
Working the lock slowly, unable to give the dial proper attention, unwilling to take his eyes off me, he tries his hand at shaming me into submission one last time.
" Look at yourself, Sara! Standing there with a gun in your hand. Threatening your own father? Drug addicts not enough anymore? Moving up - or is it down - to bedding thugs, common criminals? Burrows and Scofield are both human garbage... belong behind bars and now, here you are, my own daughter as low ... no better than either one of them. "
The last tumbler clicking loudly into place, he lifts the safe door up, retrieves the contents in one hand, rising slowly while tossing a stack of manila envelopes up onto the desk with an abrupt thwap.
" Take it! You're not fit to raise that child, not a one of you, and I'll see that none of you have the opportunity to do just that the second you walk out that door. "
Sweeping my bag from the floor, crossing over to the side of the desk,
I slip the stack of papers from the desk top, along with everything that remains in the drawer safe, into the bag, moving in close enough to press the barrel of the gun hard against the side of his head.
" You don't talk about my daughter! You don't even dare to utter her name!
It's time for you to do as I say for a change. Everything you planned to do to keep Michael away from me you'll do now to ensure he comes home to both of us..."
Ignoring my words, completely disregarding the gun pressed to his temple, suddenly far more distressed by something else, he reaches out trying desperately to grab hold of the bag on my shoulder. " Everything you needed to clear his name was on the desk. The rest of it...the other stuff in that drawer ... it has nothing to do with... "
" I'm sure it doesn't... "
Stepping back out of his reach, he stumbles over the chair leg, staggering backward, falling hard into the high-backed leather chair behind his legs. " It doesn't need to be about him...I've understood the importance of that desk safe since I was a teenager."
I pat the bag, the contents inside trapped safely under my arm against my side.
" If it's in that drawer, it's important and, while I don't know what it is I have in here, I DO know for certain there is something in there, a secret, some ugly lie you need never to see the light of day, that will ensure you're full cooperation until Michael is home, completely cleared of all charges, living a quiet, safe,
life with his daughter and me."
Righting himself in his seat, he looks up to me with the most real, open, and sincere look on his face I can ever recall seeing as he pleads his case one last time.
" There are things in those files that can hurt me, Sara. Things that could ruin me if they got out. "
" I'm sure there are..."
I look to his face, sadden by the realization that it's now, only now - when I've learned to play his game...now, when I've given myself over to doing things on his terms - that we finally understand each other. " I have no desire to hurt you. It's simple...you hold up your end of the bargain and I'll keep your secrets."
He nods slowly, submissively, as he speaks, making it clear we have what constitutes our first real understanding.
" Since it doesn't look like I have a choice, I guess you have yourself a deal. Tell me what is you want me to do, Sara, and I'll do it. "
Backing my way slowly to the door, knowing for the first time he'll actually hear what I have to say, I lay it all out.
" Good! Glad to hear it. You'll do it all exactly the way you planned when you spoke to Linc yesterday afternoon with the exception that you'll call him first thing tomorrow morning and tell him you've had a change of heart. You'll tell him you were wrong to try and keep Michael away from me. So wrong, so guilt ridden about it all, that you asked me over here tonight to give me the recording we needed to save Michael."
" This man...he means this much to you, Sara? ...So much you'd do THIS to your own family?"
Locking the gun's safety into place before dropping it into the bag, I reach for the door, looking back to him, my hand on the doorknob prepared to walk away for good, offering one last truth I fear he'll never understand.
"This 'man' ... our daughter, the child we have together IS my family now and you'd do well to understand I'll do anything it takes, always, without fail, to protect them. "
TBC...
Next time: ( The last TTG ever! ) Will Sara's father hold up his end of the bargain? Is Michael a free man? Does Sara at last have her family safely back together? With Michael back in the picture where does Lincoln fit into this family that has come to mean so much to him?