A/N: Alright, this starts out a bit slow/fluffy but it'll become a lot more plot heavy as it goes on. Gotta lay the groundwork first :) Important notes: Veronica doesn't already know Michael and Lincoln in this one (they weren't childhood friends). Also Sara isn't an alcoholic so the bar scenes aren't concerning ;) Enjoy! Let me know what ya think.
XXXXXX
Sara sat alone at the bar, fiddling with the tiny, black straw in her drink. She was sipping on a vodka with lime and seltzer- not super exciting, but it had become her drink of choice at some point.
The T.V. above the bar had a football game on. Below the T.V., a blue light illuminated all the alcohol from behind. The bar itself was a beautiful dark brown wood, with black bar stools and stainless steel accents. It was modern yet rustic, a place she'd been to far more times than she could count. Around her, the atmosphere was lively. It was a college town, part of Chicago where she herself had attended medical school. She'd been out of school and working for over a year now, but it was the first Friday night of the month, and that was a girl's night for her and Veronica. It was tradition, and it was one she never intended to break.
They'd been roommates for their last three years of school; Veronica a law student, Sara busy with medical school. It was invigorating to have such a close friend and roomie with a different major; they had healthy, intelligent debates. Veronica learned and shared things about the law as it pertained to all things medical, Sara taught her about DNA and anatomy, things that might be relevant in a court room. It was an easy friendship, never forced. They understood each other and got along well from the beginning.
She thought back to their last day of school; an unseasonably warm day in May, with flowering trees all around, sprinkling their white and pink petals on the lush grass of the caps and gowns had been black, the sun warming them far beyond comfort. They stood next to each other for the ceremony, feet swelling in their high heels, cheeks flushed. They'd exchange glances, fanning themselves with the programs they held.
Neither one of them had family attend their graduation. Sara's mother had passed years before, and her relationship with her father was strained. Veronica was in a similar situation; her father had left when she was young, and her mother was an alcoholic. They didn't have any blood-relatives there and they both felt the sting of it, but at the end of the day, it was okay. They had each other.
Their plan for a few nice pictures together was ruined by the heat, so they laughed it off and took a few silly ones anyways. Sara still had them; their foreheads shiny and cheeks pink, the widest grins on both of them. They'd been through it all together, and it hadn't always been easy. Why should their last day be any different?
A low voice from behind her, "Hey sexy, whatcha drinking?"
Her body tensed and she turned slowly, ready to firmly decline whoever it was, only to find Veronica beside her, a comically suggestive grin on her face.
Sara burst out laughing and playfully slapped her arm, "God, you scared me."
"Scared you?" she feigned shock, "what if I was a delightfully handsome man hitting on you?"
"Yea right," she retorted sarcastically; she didn't have the best luck when it came to men, and she wasn't really looking.
Veronica gave her a hug and took the seat next to her. The bartender came over, "What can I get you?"
Simultaneously, "Jack and Coke."
The bartender smiled, "Coming right up."
Sara, "Some things never change."
Veronica rolled her eyes, "Ok, yea my drink of choice hasn't changed," she looked down at Sara's glass, "but yours certainly has. What happened to all those fruity things?"
"Uh," she sighed, "I guess I've dulled with age."
A laugh, "You make it sound like you've aged a few decades."
"Feels like it sometimes."
"Right?!" she shifted in her seat, "I know we were in college just over a year ago but man…feels like a lifetime ago."
The bartender set her drink down, "Thanks," she smiled at him before returning her attention to Sara.
"So," she started, taking a sip, "what's new?"
"Well," Sara sighed, trying to summarize the last month, "work has been busy, but good-"
"-still doing Emergency medicine?"
"Yea," she shrugged, "I like it, ya know? The rush, the adrenaline…helping people, obviously. It can be tough with the odd hours, but I live alone so there's no real pressure to keep a schedule. I just sleep when I can."
"I get that," she agreed, "I'm definitely not on a nine to five schedule either."
She tilted her head, "What do they have you doing now?"
Veronica seemed momentarily distracted, her gaze lingering on the far side of the bar. Sara ignored it and waited for her answer.
"I uh," she snapped back to the present, "I'm doing real estate law, and they're keeping me busy. Usually my late nights are just me in the office doing paperwork."
Sarcastically, "Sounds thrilling."
"Oh yea, that stuff is a real page-turner," she laughed, "but it's good. And like you said, no real schedule to keep."
She nodded knowingly, "The single life."
She looked up and once again saw Veronica staring, "What?" she asked.
Veronica smirked, "I think you have an admirer."
She could feel a flush in her cheeks, not even wanting to look. She was kidding, right? Pulling her leg like she had earlier, "No I don't."
Veronica shrugged, "He's looking right at you. Blue eyes," she glanced again, "mhmm, no mistaking it. He's staring."
She sighed heavily, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead, "God, why?"
Veronica laughed, "Wow, you aren't even going to look?"
"No! If I look and we make eye contact he'll come over here."
"He's cute."
Flatly, "That's great. I'm not interested."
Veronica bit her lip, "Just a peek?"
She sighed again, dramatically, and picked up her glass to take a sip, using it as a shield of sorts, trying to hide her gaze. It didn't work. When her eyes went to the other end of the bar they immediately found his, clear blue and intense, his face relaxed, lips parted ever so softly.
He was beautiful.
She turned back to Veronica, who was waiting expectantly, "Ok, he's…attractive, but there's no-"
"-he's coming over."
Her heart jump-started, skipping a beat and then thudding wildly. Her stomach sank. Why had she looked? She shouldn't have looked. She kicked herself internally.
It's not that she didn't want love. Who doesn't? But it was never that simple. She had a crazy job with weird hours and abnormal amounts of stress. Everyone had baggage, and it takes effort to get to know someone, to really know them. She wasn't sure if she was in a place to go through that. Her life as a single, employed, financially independent adult was new, and she was still enjoying that phase. Finding her footing.
He was closer now, standing behind the empty chair that was next to her. She waited for him to say something, but he didn't; he just stood there a moment, looking at her with those damn blue eyes.
"Uh, hi?" she ventured, waiting for him to get on with whatever pickup line he had ready so she could decline.
"Hi," he said simply, "I'm Michael."
"Sara," she replied cautiosly, "and this is Veronica," gesturing to her friend.
Veronica was beaming now, completely unphased by Sara's lack of enthusiasm, "Hey, Michael."
"Mind if I sit?"
Sara hesitated a moment, her knee-jerk reaction would be to say, "Yes," and make up some excuse to get him to leave. But for some reason, the thought of his company for the next hour or two didn't seem so bad. She took a leap.
"No, go ahead."
XXXXXX
Michael went home that night and dreamt of auburn hair and easy smiles.
There had been plenty of women in that bar, plenty of people. He didn't consider himself a charmer-didn't assume he had his pick of the bunch, and normally didn't approach people, particularly women, that he didn't know.
But he'd sat there for a long while observing Sara; not in a creepy way, but he was a people watcher by nature, far my comfortable on the sidelines than in the limelight. He watched her face while she'd sat alone, the blue light from the bar reflecting off of it, saw the subtle shifts in her expression. She seemed lost in her own world, as he often found himself, with her chin resting gently on curled fingers, her other hand fiddling with her straw. Her gaze lingered, unseeing, on the television. There was life behind her eyes though; memories perhaps, or deep thinking on a decision she had to make. He couldn't be sure, but the lights were definitely on inside that mind.
She didn't fit in with the scene. While everyone else danced and drank, cheering at the game, she sat, lost in thought.
An observer. An old soul.
Like him.
Deciding to go up to her hadn't been a conscious decision. He practically watched himself, as if a character in a movie, as he stood up and floated her way. He braced himself for rejection, but figured if she turned him down he'd be no worse off than he was already, and he wasn't having a bad night, just a lonely one.
He was still getting used to life as a young professional and not life as a student. He missed living on campus sometimes; being surrounded with people your own age, knowing that if you went to any lobby, day or night, someone would be there: another soul to share the space with. Coming home from work to an empty apartment just didn't have the same vibe. It usually didn't bother him…but sometimes it did, and when that happened, he usually ended up at a bar or coffee shop, depending on the time of day. Tonight had been one of those nights.
He'd given her his card. Again, that was something he didn't do with any regularity. His number was on it, and he was honestly on the fence about whether or not she'd use it. They had a good night, or so he'd thought, but he wasn't naïve. She'd either call or she wouldn't, and he'd leave it at that.
Or maybe he'd see her at the bar again sometime.
When Sara and Veronica had said their goodbyes to each other, he'd caught fragments of their conversation. He busied himself finding the correct bills from his wallet as they hugged.
See you again next time?
Of course, I wouldn't dare break tradition. Friday nights are for us, always have been.
He made a mental note, and also racked his brain, sure that he'd frequented that bar on a Friday before, but never saw them. Didn't remember ever seeing them before.
He's sure he would have.
XXXXXXX
It was Thursday, nearly a week after her night out with Veronica. And Michael. The latter being the current distraction on her mind as her fingers ran over the embossed letters on his card.
Michael Scofield
She stood at home in sweatpants and a lilac colored t-shirt with her back against the counter, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders. The card was smooth between her fingers and she found herself mesmerized, running them along the edges, feeling the slight bumpiness of the letters.
A long day at work had left her mentally exhausted and she could feel her mind slipping away, subdued by the repeated motions of her fingers on the card. Physically, however, she felt antsy, needing to move. It was an odd combination.
It was late August, so the days were still long and the evenings warm. She debated a run, thinking she could work out whatever energy was needing release, but opted for a walk instead, the slower pace suiting her mood.
She shoved the card into her pocket and grabbed the keys from her purse, slipping on shoes and locking the door behind her.
The air was still warm as predicted, though the sun was starting to set. She figured she had at least an hour until darkness and began wandering the streets of her neighborhood, enjoying the sounds of kids playing and the jingle of dogs on leashes. Her feet rhythmically floated along the sidewalk, and her mind settled once again on the piece of paper in her pocket. It felt heavier than it really was, making itself known, the pointed edge brushing against her leg through the fabric as she walked.
Maybe she could see if he wanted to get coffee or something. She reasoned that asking him for drinks again might not be the smartest idea- that never conversing with someone except while tipsy and in a bar atmosphere wasn't the best way to really get to know someone. In the light of day, in the morning, just the two of them, he might be completely different.
Tomorrow was Friday and she was off work, but it was Friday. Most people worked on Fridays. Did engineers? She assumed so, figuring he worked a Monday to Friday kind of a deal. So even if she did ask he'd probably say that no he couldn't, and she worked the weekend, so that wasn't going to happen.
She sighed. Why was this so difficult? Why did she care? She was shooting herself down before she even reached out, which obviously wasn't productive. Much to her dismay, the rest of her walk was the same, her mind would land on another subject- work, errands she needed to do tomorrow, but they always came back to the same thing. Michael Scofield. The real question was, what was she going to do about it?
XXXXX
Brad Bellick, State trooper, sat behind the wheel of his car sipping on shitty coffee from a rest stop near the outskirts of Chicago. They didn't pay him enough for this shit. Decades of service, and they had him working the speed trap, parked near a busy highway waiting to bust someone and write a ticket. He barely paid attention anymore.
He didn't care.
He wanted to retire, and to retire in luxury. A little cabin by a lake somewhere, just him and a fishing boat, as much beer as he wanted, and no one to bother him. Maybe he'd try northern Michigan, maybe Minnesota. Somewhere close to Canada where the nature was still wild, where the lakes were abundant, and cities were far away. That's what this was all about, but being a trooper wasn't getting him there fast enough.
His salary was measly, and the benefits were no better. That's why, a few years back, he'd taken matters into his own hands, drumming up a little side business. A side business that was now funding his retirement more than his day job.
He took another gulp and shuttered as the bitter liquid went down his throat. He checked his phone, waiting to hear back from his partner in crime. They had a delivery to make.