A/N: Sorry it's been a while without an update. Hope you enjoy this chapter- I promise a Misa reunion in the near future ;) Let me know what ya think!

XXXXX

Lincoln had dropped Veronica back at the police station before he'd gone to meet his brother. She felt bad that he had to move their meeting up so far just so he could be back earlier, but he'd insisted.

It worked out fine, though, as she got to help Alex and Paul release an image to the media; Brad Bellick's photo, asking anyone with information to call them. She'd aided in a police sketch of their captor that morning as well, and the artist did a damn good job. It wasn't exact, but it was close enough that she was confident he'd be recognized.

What irked her the most though, is that they didn't know who currently had Sara. If they found Bellick but she was with the other guy, it wouldn't do them any good. Or vice versa. Or, she considered, Sara could've already been sold by now. The thought had rock the size of Texas lodged in her chest, the guilt coming back.

Did she do the right thing by running away?

She shook her head, dismissing that question once again and firmly locking it down; a super healthy coping mechanism, she noted with sarcasm, but she could deal with her own issues later. Finding Sara was the top priority.

For now, she was seated at Paul's desk anxiously clicking a pen. He was in Mahone's office hovering behind him as they both stared at the computer screen. She wondered what they were doing, but trusted them to inform her of any developments. She scooted her chair back and propped her foot up on his desk (like she was supposed to have been doing this whole time) to try and keep the swelling down. It throbbed a bit from time to time, but overall she considered herself lucky to escape with only that injury.

Waiting was the worst, and waiting alone didn't make it any easier. Though she was safe, she still felt like a sitting duck, just waiting for something terrible to happen…again.

The door to the station opened and she saw Lincoln's bear of a silhouette in the doorway, illuminated by the sunny day behind him. Another figure followed, and she squinted.

Is that-?

Michael's familiar face nodded, "Veronica."

"Michael, hey," she stumbled out as she lowered her foot, "uh, what're you-"

"-he's my brother," Lincoln informed her, "and it sounds like you two have already met."

"Yea, we have," she confirmed.

Michael met her eyes, asking quietly, "Is Sara okay?"

"We don't know yet," she admitted, "they just released pictures to the media- both Bellick and the guy who tasered us."

"You were tasered? Both of you?" Michael asked with a slight hint of rage- the quiet, icy kind that was scarier than a full-blown flaming yell.

"Yea," she looked to Lincoln who just bowed his head. He apparently left that part out, but she didn't care. A lot had happened, and she didn't expect Michael to be fully up to speed. If he had questions, he could ask, but otherwise she wanted to keep moving forward.

Paul approached them, his pace quick, "We got something."

They all gave him their full attention.

"Motel clerk in Chicago recognized Bellick, said he's staying there."

Michael, "Did they see Sara?"

Shaking his head, "Didn't mention anyone with him, but he wouldn't have brought her into the lobby to check in- probably snuck her in the side door after he got the key."

"What're we waiting for?" Michael asked. Veronica was happy that someone had ants in their pants as badly as she did. Lincoln had kept a level head, almost too level. His ability to be calm in the face of this kind of danger amused yet vaguely annoyed her. Then again, he was the only one who didn't know Sara, and maybe that lack of personal connection made it easier for him to deal with the possibility of never finding her.

For some reason, she suddenly hoped that he would come to know Sara- that they all might see each other from time to time, especially now that she knew he and Michael were brothers. She also hoped that she'd get to see Lincoln again, but tried not to let that thought linger too long.

Alex came up behind Paul, looking at Michael, "I know you're concerned, but you can't just tag along on a police chase."

Michael, "Why not?"

Alex sighed and gave him a, "Really? Need me to spell it out?" look.

"What if we follow?" Michael suggested, then added, "we just want to know if she'd ok."

Veronica tried to hide a smirk at his word choice of, "We." It was true, she was desperate to see that Sara was alright, but she wasn't fooled by it. He was sick with worry and ready to do anything to find her. It was endearing, really, and her heart melted a little. She hoped it worked out between them; he was clearly head over heels, and Sara, her best friend, deserved that more than anybody.

But in order for them to have a chance, they needed to find Sara first.

Paul and Alex exchanged glances, then reluctantly nodded their permission.

XXXXXXX

"Can you please uncuff me," Sara pleaded. She'd been stuck all night with her arms raised above her head; both arms were tingling and asleep. They were numb yet still managed to hurt somehow; she was sure they would formally protest the moment she was able to move them, but she knew she needed to.

Bellick had been awake for a while now and had just emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steamy air following him. A shower sounded lovely, but she wasn't sure she'd be afforded that luxury. Right now, all she wanted was to move her arms, not an unreasonable demand as far as she was concerned.

He was whistling a happy tune, seeming quite pleased with himself as he walked over to the bed, "Sure thing, honey."

A sour taste came into her mouth- "don't, "honey" me," she thought,but she ignored it as he clicked the key and released the cuffs. She flopped her arms down and braced herself for the inevitable tingling pain that would follow as the blood flow returned. It did, and she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to wiggle her fingers and rotate her wrists.

"Can I shower?" she finally asked once the pain had subsided.

"We have to meet the buyer in an hour."

"I can shower quick," she insisted, even though she fully intended to take her time.

He grimaced, but nodded, "Fine. Make it quick."

Sure thing, boss, she thought sarcastically, but gratefully made her way past him and into the bathroom. She peeled off her clothes after several days, debating on washing at least her socks and underwear in the shower with her. She could use the motel-provided hair dryer to dry them off. It wasn't much, but it could be better than nothing.

She stepped into the stream of hot water and sighed, running her head under it. When she reached her hands up to run them through her hair, her shoulders protested, having been locked above her head for too long the night before. The warmth did help her muscles though, and she stretched them out a bit, hoping the ache wouldn't set up residence and turn into knots.

The calming sound and feel of the water lulled her, and her mind became still, her eyes going in and out of focus through the steam. It was almost peaceful, but it was the calm before the storm. Her tranquility didn't last; out of nowhere, something changed. Perhaps it was the personal space, the alone time, that allowed her mind to fully register the direness of her situation, and how quickly her time was running out.

Her tranquility gave way to urgency, and panic set in.

Her heart thumped loudly and quick, her hands starting to tremble as she vigorously scrubbed shampoo into her hair. Was this it? What if no one could find her? The worst of it was; she didn't even know her fate. Who was she being sold to, and for what? Her stomach curdled at the various possibilities.

She realized that it truly was now or never; they were meeting the buyer in an hour, and her hope of being rescued was gone. She would have to risk trying to escape. It might mean being tasered again. She might get shot. But what was the alternative?

Her mind raced, the adrenaline and fear crippling her ability to think clearly. She urged herself to consider the options, however crazy, and decide quickly.

If fight or flight were her two basic options, she preferred flight. The bathroom door was only a few feet from the door into the hallway, she reasoned. She could just make a run for it. He *hopefully* wasn't expecting that since she'd been compliant thus far, and she could catch him off guard. If he was laying on the bed and watching T.V., which she expected (she could hear the mumblings of the news in the background), then she'd at least have a few second head start.

Again, she had no doubt she could outrun him. It was the bullets that concerned her.

But, she reasoned, if he started popping off rounds in the hallway or parking lot, people would notice. She'd have witnesses and other people around to help.

She shut the water off in a swift motion and squeezed the excess out of her hair. On autopilot she stepped out and grabbed a towel, her eyes not focused on anything, all of her attention was directed inwards, preparing herself for what she needed to do.

She didn't have shoes in the bathroom, she realized with a twinge, and couldn't waste time putting them on. The only clothes she had were from the night at the bar, so she hurried into them, shimmying into her jeans and pulling the green t-shirt over her head. Her hair was still damp and dripping onto the back of her shirt, her feet bare.

A forced pause, she gripped the counter staring at her own reflection, trying to come to terms with her reality. She could be moments away from getting shot, from death. An exhale shuddered out of her, her heart still thudding loudly. The adrenaline was there, she noted with a strange sense of gratitude, it was there to help her. Her legs were already quivering, prepared to take off in a dead run. She might as well use the electric energy while it was there.

She took one last deep breath and then clicked the handle open as silently as she could, her steps light and swift as she bolted for the door. She was right; Bellick wasn't by the bathroom and it wasn't until she was several paces down the hallway before she heard the, "Hey!" exclamation and the thud of footsteps behind her. By the time she saw the flash of his movement, she was already near the stairwell.

She heard the gun click, another yell to stop, but she swung the door open and flew down the steps at lightning speed. She used the railing and skipped some of the steps altogether, flying down and not looking back.

She pushed against the door at the bottom and ran out into the light, stutter-stepping as she debated her next move. The pavement felt hot beneath her bare feet, so she kept moving, away from the building in no particular direction.

She had no idea where she was and what was around her- didn't know where was safe. Then she spotted it: a tall, tan colored brick building with a large red cross. A hospital.

Judging as best she could, it seemed to be only a few blocks away, so she took off in a frantic sprint, hearing the door banging behind her as Bellick got out into the parking lot.

"Stop, or I'll shoot!" she heard. She felt the threat was relatively empty. On one hand, she couldn't be sold if she was dead. Point one for not stopping, to keep running. However, it occurred to her that she was a pretty big threat to him now if she got away and reported him for what he'd done. Like she'd told him, he'd be in prison the rest of his life. That tiny detail was enough to have her zigzagging a bit as she ran, not taking the straight path of the sidewalks. Parking lots, storefronts and people's yards became her best friends as she made an indirect trip to the hospital.

He fired once.

She winced, but felt nothing- no sharp pain, no warm spreading of blood. Maybe adrenaline was blinding her to all sensations; she honestly couldn't be sure that she hadn't been hit, but she kept running.

He fired again. By now, attention was being paid. She heard an occasional scream, panic from people nearby who didn't know what was going on. She didn't care. Her feet kept moving, her mind a blur. She was only a block away now and saw the emergency room entrance.

She was a good distance ahead of him; she'd been correct that in a footrace, she'd have no trouble besting him.

The automatic doors opened painfully slowly as she threw herself into the lobby of the E.R., strands of wet hair clinging to her face and neck.

She went to the desk, shaking and out of breath. As an E.R. doctor herself, she knew how chaotic and downright unreasonable people could be when they flew threw her doors. Now she knew why. Forming a coherent thought and explanation for her presence proved to be more difficult than she'd expected.

She tried to keep it simple, "I need help, there's someone after me, he has a gun."

The nurse, an older woman with a maternal aura, "Who's after you?"

"I need to hide," she pleaded, "call security. Right now. He'll be here any second."

She turned her head and saw him approaching, not yet to the door. She knew that from the outside, it was difficult to see inside. Protocol and normal behavior be damned, she ran behind the nurse's station and crawled under it.

"What're you-" the nurse started to ask.

"-Please don't tell him I'm here. Call security-," she cut herself off as she heard the doors slide open. She hugged her knees to her chest and made herself as small as possible, quieting her breathing as best she could.

"Excuse me," his familiar voice boomed, "have you seen a woman come in here? Tall, red-brown hair?"

Sara closed her eyes, begging the nurse to lie for her. She saw the woman's hand press a button below the desk- a panic button. She must've seen his gun.

A brief hesitation before the nurse replied, "No, sorry I haven't."

Lower voice, incriminating, "You sure about that? Because I'm pretty sure I saw her heading in this direction."

Firmly, "I'm sure, is she a relative? If you give me her name I can double check for you-"

"-forget it."

Sara heard retreating footsteps and felt tears of relief well in her eyes. She hugged her knees even closer, suddenly feeling very tired and small, almost child-like.

The older nurse bent down to her level, a soft voice, "How about we get you into a room and you tell me what's going on, ok?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat and sniffled, "Yea. Yea, okay."

The nurse peeked up again, "He's gone, you're safe here."

She extracted herself from beneath the desk just as security arrived.

"He just left," the nurse explained, "but he had a gun."

The officer asked, "He threaten you?"

"Not me," she clarified, "but he was after her," she nodded to Sara, then continued, "I was just about to get her back into a room and make sure she's okay."

"I'm fine," Sara told her, but the nurse gave her a caring, skeptical glance.

"Let's get you back into a room, then we can all have a chat."

XXXXXX

"Alright," Alex started as they all got out of their cars in the motel parking lot, "you all have to stay here."

Michael's eyes narrowed, rebellion behind them.

"I mean it," he continued, "stay out here until we know what's going on. Paul," he nodded his head towards the motel, and the two of them headed into the lobby.

Michael fidgeted. He leaned his back against Lincoln's sun-warmed car, but his hands were restless.

Veronica, "She'll be okay."

"You don't know that."

"They'll find her," Veronica repeated as she looked around, then perked up, "that's his car," she pointed, "that's the car he picked me up in when I escaped."

Michael glanced over, feeling a bit more hopeful.

"He's here," Veronica sighed, "he's here. They'll find her."

"What if she's hurt?" he asked, sounding distraught.

"Then we'll help her," she assured, hating to see him like this. She stood in front of him, forcing him to meet her eyes, "we'll find her, and she'll be okay. She's tough and she's smart."

That seemed to help a little bit as he sighed, "Yea, she is."

"And when this is over," Veronica nudged him playfully with her elbow, "you can take her out for a fancy dinner and she'll forget all about this."

He smiled tiredly, and it didn't reach his eyes; she hoped he wasn't falling too deep into his own pit of despair. She wanted to help him more, but knew that in times like this, sometimes just the presence of a friend was enough. She hoped that he considered her a friend by now; he was certainly one to her.

Paul and Alex emerged from the lobby, and all three of them headed in their direction.

Paul shook his head, "They aren't there. Neither one. But they were."

Lincoln, "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means he left his things there, like he didn't check out."

"Any of Sara's stuff?"

"None that we saw, but-"

"-she didn't have anything with her," Veronica cut in, "we both just had our clothes."

Paul considered this, "So we have no real way of knowing if she was ever there, but there were…uh," he paused.

Michael asked, "What?"

A sigh, "There were hand cuffs on the bedpost."

"She was there," Michael declared, "why else would he have those?"

"It's pretty convincing, I'll give you that," Alex replied, "but that still doesn't help us find them."

Michael started thinking out loud, "His car is here and so is his stuff. We have to assume he left on foot."

Veronica, "And why would he do that unless he was chasing her? Leaving the cuffs like that too- he wouldn't have done that if he'd had time. He would have hid them."

"Right," Michael agreed, "so he left on foot, in a hurry."

Paul, "So he was chasing her. If she got out, any idea where she'd go?"

Everyone looked around. Michael spotted the hospital nearby, and saw that Veronica saw it too. Their eyes met, and they both nodded.

"The hospital," Michael told them.

Alex, "You sure?"

"Reasonably," he shrugged, "it's as good a place to start as any."