A/N: Another chapter! Yay! Sorry it's been a super long time. I've been busy with work, but I'm happy to be back at it. Let me know what you think, and I hope you're all doing well :)

XXXXX

Before Michael had left for work, he'd called Sara a cab to take her back to her place. The office at her apartment would be open by the time she got there, and she could explain what happened and ask for another key. It was still a bit of a hassle- they wanted money for the replacement, but she couldn't pay without her wallet…or access to her emergency cash at her place. Eventually, they saw the validity of her conundrum and let her in. She promptly found the cash they required and paid them for it. One problem down, too many to go.

A random thought entered her mind; whenever she was packing for a trip and was doing the last minute run through in her mind, making sure she wasn't forgetting anything, she always told herself that as long as she had her I.D., phone, and credit card, she'd be ok. Anything else could be solved or purchased with those three key items. Finding herself without all three at the same time further proved how right she was. And it really sucked.

Alone in her apartment now, she realized with relief that she had access to her shoes, which was important for the next step- buying a new phone. She had a spare set of car keys too, but her car was still (probably) at the bar? God this was a mess. She was getting frustrated all over again. If she had it her way, she'd be making her way back to Michael's place right now and settling in on the couch for a lazy day, ignoring all of her responsibilities.

That was what kept her going though, remembering that after a day of boring errands she'd get to see him again. The thought had that strange, swooping in her lower belly coming back. One kiss, and she knew that man was dangerous.

She decided to walk to get a new phone- there was a place not too far from her apartment, it was a beautiful day, and she had time to kill before Michael would be off.

She was a bit tired when she entered, and slightly impatient, just wanting to get it all over with. The salesman tried to push her for the latest model, but she just wanted what she'd had before. He was really starting to irritate her. Normally she was more polite, would allow them to give their long-winded explanation of why her previous model wasn't good enough anymore. Today wasn't that day. After a few firm refusals, he finally let up and gave her the ancient, last year model she desired.

When exiting the shop, she allowed herself a glorious eye-roll and a huff, glad to have that one errand checked off her list.

With a functioning phone, she called a cab and was dropped off at the bar. Her car wasn't there anymore.

She approached the bartender and explained her situation, ignoring the wide-eyed expression that took over his face. He must have remembered hearing about her…about what had happened. She didn't want sympathy- she just wanted her car back.

He blinked himself back to a more neutral expression and recalled that both her and Veronica's cars had been towed. She got the information she needed and was on her way, thanking him as she left.

The image of Michael's apartment flashed in her mind, the comfort of the couch, the bed…she'd give anything to poof there and take a nap, forgetting all her responsibilities. But she shook her head, not allowing herself to indulge that fantasy. Not yet, anyways.

XXXXX

Theodore Bagwell was sat down opposite Agent Mahone and Kellerman, handcuffed.

Today wasn't going how he'd intended.

The rest stop had been busy, strangely busy, which he considered both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that he could potentially blend in with the crowd and go unnoticed; a curse in that more people being there meant a higher chance that someone at the rest stop would have seen his face plastered on the news. Apparently, the latter won out, because here he was.

He wondered about Bellick, but he didn't dare ask or even speak his name. Yet. That tasty bit of information could be a bargaining chip- if he was going down, he wasn't going alone. The problem was, he had no idea where Bellick was. He'd probably taken off as soon as he got the chance.

He wondered about the girls- not out of compassion, but genuine curiosity regarding their fate. Had Bellick made it to the buyer with them? Did the other one escape? Last time he'd seen Bellick was when they'd parted ways, the brunette long gone and the redhead still in their custody.

Ever since he'd left to deliver the damn water on schedule, which he did (barely), it had been crickets. Not a word from Bellick. It made him anxious.

"So," Kellerman began, scooting his chair closer, "I think you know why you're here."

Silence.

"You kidnapped two women with the intent to sell them. Held them captive in your truck."

More silence.

Mahone picked up, "You're looking at major time."

Bagwell tilted his head, a curious gleam in his eyes, "Unless?"

"Unless you help us find the man you were working with. Brad Bellick?"

So they do know his name, he thought, quickly computing how to best use this situation to his advantage. He cleared his throat, leaning forward, slowly, "As much as I'd love to help, I'm afraid I don't know where he's run off to either. We parted ways and I haven't heard from him since."

"Parted ways? Why?" Kellerman asked, "Didn't you want your cut?"

"I had a delivery to make-"

"-aside from the two women you were trafficking?"

He glared at Kellerman, brushing past the insult, "Being late would've seemed suspicious, so he let me go."

"Let you go?" he tilted his head, "I thought you were partners."

"I'm more of an…employee than accomplice. He made all the arrangements, I'm just the driver."

"And the tazer-er. We know it was you who took them from the bar."

"Just following orders," he saw a small flinch in both of them, understanding that position, "I'm sure you know how that goes."

Mahone, agitated, "Are you saying that Bellick manipulated you into doing this? Really? That's the card you're gonna play?"

Hmm, was it? He considered, then decided to redirect, "Let's say I do help you find him. What's in it for me?"

Mahone, "A lesser sentence."

"Uh-uh," he shook his head, "no way. I ain't doing time," he leaned back and paused, a commanding air about him, "If you take jail time off the table, I'll see what I can do. Otherwise," he shrugged.

Mahone leaned in, "If you don't help us, you will do time. Your only offer right now is to reduce your sentence, you got that?"

He paused, eyes squinting, searching their faces. Wanting to call their bluff.

Kellerman chimed in, "Help us find him. It's the only way to help yourself."

He saw no traces of deceit in either of them- started to consider his options. Slowly, "And how might I do that?"

Kellerman, hands folded in front of him, "You say you don't know where he is, you sure about that?"

"Sure as I can be," he admitted through a grimace, "he didn't say where he was going. Now that he knows you're after him, he could be anywhere."

"Does he still trust you?"

Good question.

"Trust?" he laughed, "Don't know that he ever did. That man is a tough one to work for let me tell ya-"

"-would he respond to you?" Mahone asked, "would he be willing to talk? To meet you somewhere?"

Slowly, "He might."

"And are you willing to cooperate? To give it a shot?"

He supposed he didn't have much of a choice, "If I recall, ya'll took my celluar when I got thrown into this place. He's not gonna answer from any number except mine-"

Kellerman, "-we'll give you your phone back. Just know that any and all conversations will be monitored-"

He waved a hand, indicating that he knew the drill. Figuring he didn't have much to lose, and freedom to gain, he agreed, "Well, let's get started, then."

XXXXX

It was almost five o'clock as Michael was finishing up his work for the day. Against his better judgement, he'd invited Lincoln and Veronica out for dinner and drinks with he and Sara. It's not that he didn't want to see them; he prided himself on having a good brotherly relationship with Lincoln, and he really liked Veronica, too, but he also longed for another night at home, relaxing in front of the T.V. with Sara curled up next to him.

He hoped she'd had a better day than him; not that anything had gone wrong for him at work, but time felt as though it were moving backwards.

Being at work took a lot out of him- the mental stimulation, interacting with people…his introverted tendencies meant that evenings were a sacred time of quiet, solitude, and letting his mind wander uninterrupted. But this was only one night, he reasoned. He was sure he could find it in him to go out and have fun, just this once, and then go home for some peace.

Besides, Sara wanted this- to see Veronica and talk about everything. He wasn't sure exactly how the evening would go: would they want time to talk alone quietly? He knew there had to be details of her capture that she hadn't shared with him. Perhaps Veronica was the one person she could open up to. He and Lincoln could carry on their own easy conversation if Sara and Vee needed to have a heart to heart.

He just hoped that someday, she'd open up to him too.

As he left the office and drove home, he couldn't help but wonder: would Sara really be at his apartment? She said she would, but he had to figure that she'd have a key to her apartment by now. Even if she was there, she wouldn't sleep over again, right? There'd be no reason to. The thought had a wave of disappointment washing over him, made him grip the wheel tighter. Made him wonder what exactly they were to each other.

Their relationship was ill-defined, thrown off course by her tragic change of circumstances. She'd slept next to him because she needed comfort, company, but how long would that last? When she got back to normal life and felt safer, more like herself, what would she need him for?

He propped his left elbow against the window, leaned his cheek on his fist, trying not to overthink. Trying, but not succeeding.

XXXXXX

Sara was sitting outside Michael's apartment. His was on the ground floor and there was a grassy area nearby with a few picnic tables and benches. She plopped down on a bench and waited, fidgeting with her new phone, trying to regain all of her lost contacts and apps.

She got her car back, which was a relief, and all of her ducks were lining up into a row where they belonged. Work had been more than understanding of her absence, a blessing, and she was set to go back in in two days. She looked forward to it- the normalcy, the routine, but for now? She was content to sit in the sun, let the breeze play with her hair as she waited.

Just before five-thirty she heard footsteps approaching from behind. She turned and squinted a bit, shielding her eyes with her hand.

"Hey," Michael greeted, "I should've left you a key, I'm sorry."

"Oh," she waved her hand, "no big deal. I don't mind being outside."

She really didn't; she could feel the tension gone from her shoulders, an easy smile on her face.

"I uh," he sat next to her, "I invited Linc and Veronica out for dinner and drinks tonight. Hope that's ok? I didn't know if you'd have a new phone number, so I couldn't ask you."

She was a bit surprised, but pleasantly, "Sure, yea. When?"

He glanced at his watch, "I told them six-thirty or so. I wanted time to change and drive over."

A playful smirk, "But you look so good like that," gesturing to his work ensemble.

"Ha," he laughed dryly, "well, thank you, but I think it's a bit formal for a night out."

"That's fair," she looked down, then back up at him as she started to get up, "let's go in. Don't wanna be late."

"After you," he gestured as he followed her towards his door.

XXXXX

Veronica silently thanked Michael for sparing her the effort and vulnerability of texting Lincoln first. His invitation for a night out with he and Sara (and Lincoln) meant that she had a free pass to see him without having to be the one to reach out. She wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling that Lincoln (not being much of a talker) would take an excruciatingly long time to initiate any form of communication with her. Now neither one of them had to, and they got to see each other anyways.

She stared into her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. It was so much easier when it was just her and Sara- anything would do. Tonight, she wanted to look a bit nicer.

Her rational mind knew it was silly; the first time Lincoln ever saw her she was wearing dirty work clothes and must've looked quite a mess. Bruised, dirty feet -er, bloody feet, now that she thought about it. He hadn't hesitated to help her, to chat easily on the docks, legs swinging, and listened to the river. Being with him was easy.

She sighed and grabbed a lacey, emerald green dress. It was flowy and casual, not too tight, but had enough structure to be flattering. She pulled it over her head and slipped into what she called her "fancy" flip-flops. They weren't really fancy-she knew that, but they were black and had some detail on the straps that made them a bit more interesting. Besides, heels would feel like too much, and her foot was still worse for wear.

Her hair was still relatively straight and parted to the side, just how she always wore it to work. She ran her hand through it to comb out a few tangles and, satisfied, headed for the door. Just as she grabbed her bag and keys, she heard shuffling outside. She froze, heart thudding loudly in her chest.

It was nothing, right? Someone walking by to get to another apartment. The wind. A stray cat. It was nothing. She heard more footsteps, her breath caught in her throat. Someone started banging on her door.