Veronica did her best to squash the panic, to make it manageable as she tip-toed silently towards the door, checking the peephole. Her blinds were closed, thank God. If they hadn't been, she would've dropped to the floor and army-crawled her way into the bathroom, getting out of sight as fast as possible.

One look through and her knees practically buckled with relief. She swung the door open, "Jesus. Lincoln you scared the hell outta me."

His eyebrows shot up, "Not exactly the welcome I'd hoped for."

She breathed out a laugh, trying to slow her racing heart, "Sorry, I'm a bit jumpy these days."

"Makes sense," he stuck his hands in his pockets, "I was gonna offer to drive you over."

"I, uh," she stammered, realizing how normal and polite it seemed. Of course he'd come to pick her up. He wasn't an ax murderer or a kidnapper- a knock at the door had her assuming he was. She'd have to work through that later. "Later" being the key word. Now? Dinner and drinks with some of her favorite people.

"Sure, yea," she agreed, "you came at a good time. One more minute and you would've missed me."

She grabbed her bag and shut the door behind them, locking it.

"Glad I didn't," he replied as they started walking towards the parking lot and her heart fluttered, hearing in his voice that he meant it.

"So," she started as they walked, "what've you been up to?"

A smirk, "You mean since yesterday?"

Smiling, "Yea."

"Nothing good."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Oh really? Getting into trouble already, are we?"

"Nah, I'm just messing with you. I worked last night," he shrugged, "the usual."

She nodded, "Usual is good."

"Your first day back go okay?"

"It was…" she paused to think, "typical. Busy. Chaotic. But in a good way, I guess. The kind of chaos I'm used to."

He hit the button to unlock the car, "And uh, are you," he opened the door, head down, "I mean, are you doing ok…with…everything?"

She sank into the passenger side, "You mean, am I deeply traumatized? Mortally wounded?"

He smirked, obviously glad that she was able to joke about it, "Yea, pretty much."

"I'm doing ok," she replied honestly. She felt like she was, all things considered.

"Except when I knocked on the door un-announced."

She clicked her seat belt, "Yea, that got my blood pumping a bit more than normal, but," she shrugged, "it'll get better with time."

He nodded and started the car, glancing over to meet her eyes, "Yea, it will."

XXXXXX

Michael opened the heavy, wooden door and followed Sara inside the restaurant, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. She found herself leaning subtly into it, the warmth and pressure, as they found a table and sat down. Lincoln and Veronica were on their way, but for now it was just the two of them.

They sat down next to each other at a high table, the two seats opposite them empty for now, and ordered drinks.

Michael had changed into dark jeans and a light gray t-shirt, and she was glad for his casual choice; she hadn't planned on an evening out and was still wearing jeans and a dark purple t-shirt from her day of errands. Her hair was down and hanging loosely around her face as she sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbow on the table, and prop her chin up on her fist.

They were at a sports bar she'd never been too, but she liked it already. The windows were large and let in plenty of natural light. T.V.s in every corner showed a different game and a few played the news, but the crowd of people in the restaurant wasn't rowdy. There were families and couples casually enjoying a meal and each other's company. It was loud- but in a white noise kind of way; clinking glasses, blenders, sizzling from the kitchen…

The symphony of sounds around her made her realize how quiet Michael was being…more than normal. She watched him now as he stared into space and fidgeted with the empty coaster, running his fingers along the edges, picking it up, flipping it back and forth.

She put a hand on his wrist, and his movements stopped, head turned to meet her gaze.

"You okay?" she asked lightly, "you haven't said a word."

He turned his body towards her more, his mind busy behind his eyes. He sighed, head lowering.

"What's going on?" she asked and sat up slightly, more concerned now.

When his head lifted his eyes, clear blue, pierced hers, "Are we together?"

Her heart kick-started violently.

His question, and lack of prelude, caught her by surprise, "Are we, uh-"

"Dating," he clarified, leaving no room for misunderstanding, "I'd like to be, but I didn't wanna say anything the other day. Not after what happened," his voice soft, "in reality I know we've only been on a few, well," he paused to think, "one date. For coffee. Every other time it's been with Veronica too, which is fine, but-"

"-I'd like to be," she interrupted, sparing him from another moment of uncertainty. Something in his face changed, an expression of relief, mingled with boyish earnesty, took place of the inner conflict. Encouraged, she continued, "and I don't want you to feel like you're taking advantage or," she sighed, "I don't want our relationship to be weird or tainted because of what happened. Because of the timing of everything."

A small smile appeared.

"What?" she asked with a nervous laugh.

"You said, "Our relationship,"," he shrugged, "has a nice ring to it."

She grinned, so glad that he was okay, that it was out in the open, and that he wasn't silently stewing anymore, "It does."

The waiter came by and set their drinks in front of them. She was grateful for something to keep her hands busy and wrapped them both around the glass, feeling the cold seeping through her fingers. When she raised it to take a sip, she saw Lincoln and Veronica walking towards them over the rim, and was glad for more company. She didn't know what to say to Michael now, now that they were officially a couple. It shouldn't change the dynamic but it did…at least for the moment since it was so new. Made her feel vulnerable, uncertain.

She noted a subtle limp from Vee; clearly, her foot was still bothering her. She suppressed her doctorly instinct to insist on taking a look and gave her a smile as they approached.

"Hey guys," Veronica greeted as she hiked herself up into the chair across from Sara.

"Hey," they replied in unison.

Lincoln sat down across from Michael and leaned back, eyeing him, "You look like shit, man."

Michael looked taken aback, feigning offense, "Thanks, that's what I was going for."

Sara and Vee laughed. Lincoln clarified, "Nah, I just mean you look tired."

"What everyone wants to hear," Michael joked, "long day at work," he raised his glass, "I'll perk up."

"Yea," Lincoln smirked and rolled his eyes, "get a drink or two in ya and you'll be dancing on the table, I'm sure."

He lowered his head to hide a grin, "You know me so well."

Sara chuckled and rubbed his back, glad to see him chatting more already. She knew he was tired, knew that drained feeling after a long day, but it was good to be out.

A waiter re-appeared and took drink orders for the two new arrivals. Veronica looked at Sara and scooted a bit closer, "Did you get back into your apartment okay?"

Nodding, "Yea. It took a bit of pleading and money for a new key, but I got it done eventually."

Lincoln scowled, "They made you pay for a new key?"

"Yup."

"Seriously!?"

She shrugged, "No sympathy."

"You'd think they could make an exception."

Veronica chimed in, "What like a clause in the lease? "Victims of kidnapping and/or human trafficking shall not have to pay for a key replacement?""

Lincoln nodded emphatically, "Exactly."

Sara chuckled, "No such luck."

She glanced over at Michael and saw that he was distracted, looking up over Veronica's head and at the T.V. behind her. One glance and her stomach dropped; they're captor's face was glaring back at her.

Veronica must've seen her expression and turned around to look, then back to Michael and Sara, "Did they-?"

"-he's arrested," Michael answered, having been reading the captions the longest, "and helping to find the other guy."

Veronica, "Helping? Seriously?"

Sara contemplated, then shrugged, hiding her own tension, "He did seem like the second in command…like Bellick was the one running the show. They're probably more concerned with catching the one in charge."

Veronica, "You think he'd turn on him like that?"

"Depends on what's in it for him, I guess."

"They better not let him off the hook," Lincoln chimed in, "I don't care if he was in charge or not, he's the one that took you."

Sara's nerves fired again, her body's memory of the taser pressed against her, "They wouldn't do that, right?" she directed her question to Veronica.

"This kinda thing isn't my specialty," she admitted, "but I have a hard time believing they'd just let him walk. I mean," she turned fully back towards the group, "he was an accomplice. Brains of the operation or not, he was the hands on the ground doing the dirty work."

"Why the hell didn't they call you?" Michael asked Lincoln, "I thought those cops were friends of yours, thought they'd keep you in the loop."

"Maybe they just caught him," Lincoln defended, "they said they'd tell us if anything important happened-"

"-he's in custody, Linc!" Michael's voice raised, "they have him, and they didn't tell you."

"It's okay," Sara assured quickly, not wanting an escalation, "we can call them, right?" she looked to Lincoln, who met her eyes and nodded, the tension slowly dissipating.

"Good," she concluded, "we'll figure out what's going on-"

"-and if they need us," Veronica added, "to testify or anything."

"Yea," Sara agreed softly, having avoided thinking about that part. It's not that she didn't want to- she'd testify however much she had to to get those two locked away, but the thought of having to relive her experience in front of an audience wasn't appealing. So, she'd been blocking out the possibility. That was healthy, right?

"Call them now," Michael looked to Lincoln, "find out what's going on."

Lincoln sighed audibly and gave him a, "Really?" look.

"Or I will, just give me their number."

Hesitation.

"We need to know where he is."

Lincoln got up dramatically and excused himself from the table, "Fine, but I'm going outside so I can hear."

Michael nodded, satisfied.

Sara could see the tension lingering in Michael's shoulders, in the way he hunched over the table and stared down into his drink. Her hand went over to rest on his, until his eyes moved towards hers.

"We'll figure this out," she assured, "they've probably just been too busy to call."

He considered this for a moment and finally dropped it, his posture slouching back into a more neutral position, "You're right."

An aloof smirk, "I know."

That got a smile out of him as he lifted his glass to his lips, waiting for Lincoln to return.

XXXXXXX

Brad sat, agitated, in another crappy motel room. After losing Sara and hitting the highway, he'd pulled off and stopped at an ATM, withdrawing all it would let him. At that point, the authorities knew what town he was in, so scanning his card there wasn't going to give them any information they didn't already know.

It was where he went afterwards that mattered.

And the "where" part was a question he still hadn't really answered. He'd driven by instinct, mad as hell, out of Chicago to a destination unknown. Tonight, he found himself in a cash only, no-tell motel on the outskirts of St. Louis. He'd driven here, and now he had no idea what his next move was.

His heart sank, realizing how deeply in over his head he was. This wasn't supposed to happen; he'd been running scams like this for years now and never had a hiccup, not a damn one. Why had this time been different?

That day was supposed to be a good one; a smooth transaction leaving him richer and one step closer to an early retirement. Instead, in the hour after his planned meeting with the buyer, they'd called and left him a rather threatening message. He ignored it of course- tossing the phone and getting a new one. They were dangerous people, and ones he didn't want tracking him.

He considered leaving the country, but was that too extreme? A voice told him that no, that wasn't an overreaction. He had law enforcement and a group of dangerous criminals after him. But how could he leave? With what money? Not to mention that showing his I.D. at the border wasn't smart either-there was no way to slip quietly across…not without prior planning. That wasn't his strong suit, and he was kicking himself for that.

However, staying still wasn't an appealing option either; he felt like a sitting duck, bound to be discovered. He was hesitating. Stalling. He knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to make the next move, whatever that might be.

XXXXXXX

"So?" Michael asked as Lincoln returned.

"They only have the guy who took you in custody," he said to Sara and Veronica.

"Just the captor?" Veronica asked, "Not Bellick?"

Nodding, "Right, just the truck driver. They're hoping he can help them track down Bellick."

Veronica snorted and rolled her eyes, which got her a confused look from Lincoln.

"Uh," she clarified, "they didn't seem to be on great terms the last time I saw them," she looked to Sara for confirmation.

Sara tilted her head side to side, cautiously agreeing, "Yea, Bellick was mad. He didn't seem to trust the other guy much. Do we know his name?"

She was sick of referring to him as "the captor."

"Theodore Bagwell," Lincoln replied with a hint of amusement.

Veronica's eyebrows raised, slowly repeating, "Theodore? Really?"

"Maybe he goes by Teddy," Sara offered, just as amused, "you know…because he's so sweet and cuddly."

Veronica scoffed but smiled, "Right," then paused, softer, "it's weird to know his name."

"Yea," Sara agreed, her eyes unfocused towards the distance, "it is. For so long he's just been…some guy. Giving him a name makes it all feel more concrete."

"I don't like it," Veronica admitted after a moment, her brows narrowing, "it does make it feel more real. And it reminds me that we may have to testify."

"I thought that's what you wanted," Michael asked softly.

"It is," she clarified, "I want him, well…them, locked away. I just don't want to think about every glory detail. I want to move on."

Sara couldn't agree more with that sentiment. It was a relief to know that at least one of the two was in custody, but this was just the beginning of a long journey. She knew from Veronica that justice could be an agonizingly slow process.

"Wait, so what's the deal with Bellick? Any leads?" Sara asked, turning more towards Lincoln.

He shrugged, "Don't know, it just sounds like they're asking this other guy, Bagwell, to help find him."

"A deal," Veronica replied bitterly, then to Sara, "you were right. They might just let Bagwell off the hook."

"Hey, we don't know that," Lincoln interjected.

"Why else would he help the cops?" Veronica asked rhetorically. Then, under her breath, "son of a bitch."

Sara, "Does that mean he'd go free?"

Veronica was starting to fume but maintained her composure as best she could. When she spoke, her voice was cold, hard, "I can't think of any other reason he'd help. Something has to be in it for him."

A waiter came by and dropped off drinks for Veronica and Lincoln. An awkward silence fell on the group as they waited for the server to leave, everyone stewing quietly in their own thoughts.

Veronica took a hearty gulp of her cocktail and slammed the glass down with a sigh. Sara knew that look on her; she was hurting. Frustrated. Lincoln's hand came over and rested on top of Veronica's. She reluctantly glanced over, saw his "everything will be ok," expression, mixed with a dose of, "I'll kill anyone who comes near you again."

It seemed to make her feel better.

Sara watched the interaction through narrowed eyes and a slight smirk. They'd fallen for each other too.

Michael broke the silence, "Maybe they offered him a lesser sentence. He could still end up in prison for a long time."

"Or maybe he won't be able to find Bellick either," Sara offered, "I really don't think he's eager to talk to him."

"True," Veronica agreed with a sigh, then took another sip, calming down, seeming to see the validity of their points. Either that or the alcohol was starting to take effect.

The conversation turned to lighter subjects as they ate dinner and enjoyed each other's company. Sara felt her eyelids growing heavy as the night wore on, and could see that Michael was ready to crash too; he'd had a busy day.

Long after dark they said their goodbyes, and Sara followed Michael to his car.

As he unlocked the door and they got in, he asked, "Uh, listen…if you want to stay over again you're welcome to. Otherwise I can take you home, it's totally up to you."

Right…that, she remembered, having thought about it all day but never bothered to come to a conclusion.

She wanted to stay with him, that's what her gut reaction told her, but was that too much? An imposition? He said she was welcome to…and he had officially requested to be together. Those were pretty clear signs, but for some reason that unnerved her just as much as someone giving mixed signals. Mixed signals meant they were playing a game, but Michael was being so genuine and straight forward that it didn't seem real.

But maybe it was. That small chance was enough, and she decided that for once, she'd trust her instincts.

"I'd like to stay over again, if you're sure."

"I'm sure," he started the car. She didn't look over, but it sounded like there was a smile behind his voice; she convinced herself that there was, and rode contently back to his place in silence.