Michael

When we get home from Mike's game, we decide to celebrate with some ice cream. "Wow, Mike! First game of the season is a win," I tell him, and he grins from ear to ear. "I know. We had some great plays." I scoop out some dishes of chocolate ice cream for everyone as we talk about Mike's game.

"Dad, can we go to the park down the street tomorrow to shoot hoops and ride our bikes?" After I take a bite of ice cream I shrug. "Sure. Just make sure to text me when you're coming back."

The kids go off by themselves to have fun and do whatever it is that kids do nowadays, leaving Sara and I by ourselves in the living room. I lay down on the couch with a blanket and the TV remote, and Sara lays down beside me. I wrap my arms around her and try to find a good show to watch. "How about The Office?" I shrug and go to find it on Netflix, even though we've seen it a couple times already.

It's a good show.

We've watched what I think has been three episodes when I glance at the clock and realize that it's almost eleven o'clock. Oops.

Sara heads upstairs to go to bed while I clean up the ice cream in the kitchen. I hear a knock at the door, so I go to the peephole to see who would be at my doorstep at eleven o'clock at night. When I look through, I can't believe my eyes. I send Sara a text to tell her about what's happening.

Sara, listen to me

I need you to go into the room where the kids are and make sure they stay there, lock the door and stay silent please

I'm begging you

Michael, what's going on???

I don't have time to explain right now, just make sure that you're quiet and safe

I grab the gun from the small room under the stairs and put it in the back of my waistband to where it can't be seen. I stand at the door after the person at the door knocks again and pull open the door, beginning what could be the worst moment of my life.

I've been through some pretty bad moments, trust me, but this one could be the worst.

When I open the door to see Paul Kellerman, my heart burns with fury at all this man has put my family through. "Michael Scofield," he says coolly. This is why I hate this man.

"Paul Kellerman."

"Where is she?" I stare at him, cold, expressionless, unmoving. Just like old times.

"I don't know who you're talking about." He just grins that stupid grin of his and looks down at his shoes. "Of course you don't. You do anything for family, right?" I stare at him even harder.

"Nothing has changed. You won't get between me and my family."

He looks into my eyes, trying to find some sort of sign that I'm lying. I won't give him one.

"I asked you where she was." I'm about to start throwing hands.

"I told you that I don't know who you're talking about," I shoot back, raising my voice a little bit. "So you can go now." He just stands at the door, unmoving. "I don't think I can, not until I get what I need from you." I stare at him.

"You're asking for something that I don't even know about, something that I can't give you."

"Then I guess you won't mind if I take a look around." As he starts to walk into my house, I push the door shut just enough for him to get the message that he's not welcome. "What do you have to hide?"

"Nothing."

SARA LISTEN

THERE'S A DOOR IN THE BACK OF MIKE'S CLOSET THAT HAS A SMALL ROOM BIG ENOUGH FOR THE FOUR OF YOU

YOU NEED TO GET IN THERE NOW AND SHUT THE DOOR BEHIND YOU

Michael

WHAT IS GOING ON

someone's here

I hope and pray that she finds the door fast enough.

•••

I follow Paul around downstairs while he looks everywhere in my house. Then he goes upstairs.

He walks into Mike's room and looks around. "Are you by yourself here?" He looks at me for an answer.

"Yes."

"Where are they?" I know he's referring to the rest of my family.

"Gone."

"Where?"

"Why should you know?"

"Don't get smart. Where?"

"Kid's at a friend's house, Sara's with her friends."

"I only have one kid. You know that." We're standing right next to Mike's open closet door, so I'm almost positive that we can be heard from the little room in the closet.

"Last chance, Michael. Where is she?" He pulls his gun on me, pointing it directly at my head. "I don't know who you're talking about." He looks ready to shoot me at my next word.

He jumps me first, tackling me onto the ground and putting the gun on my forehead.

"I'll do it. Tell me where she is."

"I can't do that."

I punch him in the throat to get him off me, and when he grabs his neck I press my foot into his wrist to make him drop the gun. I kneel on his wrists, looking straight into his eyes. "This is for the last twenty years," I tell him, and then start blowing away at his face. After a few punches, he seems like he's given up. "You win, Michael. You got what you wanted."

He finally leaves us alone and goes back to wherever he does his business.

Jerk.

Sara and the three kids come out of the closet, and when Sara sees his blood on my hands she comes over to me and hugs me. "Don't ever scare me like that again," she says, leaning into the crook of my neck. My hands wrap around her and pull her into a hug, leaving the kids standing there silently. "Dad, why couldn't you have let me get my chance at him? I could've helped you beat him," Faith says. Garrett just stands there, looking confused.

"I wasn't going to let him know that you were here. That wouldn't have turned out well for any of us."

"Dad," Mike nearly whispers, "what about the fact that he knows where we live now?"I let go of Sara and look towards Mike. "That's an issue. We should probably go somewhere else for a while to make sure that he doesn't come back."

Linc

LINCOLN BURROWS

MICHAEL

MICHAEL SCOFIELD

WHAT DO YOU WANT

I'm coming in a few minutes

At 11:30 at night???

I'll explain when I get there

The five of us get in the car and drive five minutes to Linc's house. I get out, swinging my keys on my keychain and walk up to his doorstep. "You have a lot of explaining to do," Linc says, letting us into his house.

"He came back."

"What are you talking about, Michael?"

"The train guy? The one who had my daughter?"

"Crap. Why are you here?"

"Why do you think, Linc? He came into my house trying to take my daughter back. With a gun. Trying to kill me."

Linc rubs his temples with his fingers. "Okay. Stay here."

The kids walk into the living room to stay for the night while Linc tells us that we can take the guest room. Sara and I lay down in the queen bed and get under the comforter. I sigh as I pull her into me under the comforter.

"What did we do to deserve this?" I kiss her forehead as she buries her face into my chest. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and looks into my eyes.

"Nothing, Michael. We didn't do anything," she whispers to me. "Nothing at all."

She buries her head into the crook of my neck as we fall asleep, my hand closing around the gun in my waistband and sliding it under the bed.

•••

In the morning, I walk down to the kitchen and make myself a pot of coffee. It's only about five thirty and dead silent. The only thing I can hear is Linc's air conditioner running.

I sit at the kitchen table beside the glass door that goes out onto his deck. The scalding hot cup of coffee in my hand is the only thing keeping my hands away from the pistol in the back of my sweatpants waistband. I stare out the glass door, sipping the steaming hot black coffee from the matte black mug.

I almost have a heart attack when Linc comes down the stairs about half an hour later to do whatever it is that he does at six in the morning on a Saturday. "Please tell me that you haven't been here all night," he says, and I take another sip of my coffee before I answer him. "No, Linc, I haven't. I only got down here half an hour ago." He nods and pours himself a cup of coffee.

"Michael, listen-"

"Linc, I know. I'm going to find somewhere else to stay…"

Then the idea hits me.

"The loft. That's where we're going, the loft."

We sit in silence and drink our coffee for a while at the kitchen table.

"Stop overthinking it so much. Just stay here for a while."

"I can't, Linc, he'll find you too if I do that. We've got to go somewhere."

"Michael, if you won't listen to what I'm saying now, then listen to the rules we made for ourselves all those years ago."

"Don't let your guard down, don't get caught alone, watch what you say on the phone."

"That's my little brother."

"The only thing that kept me from killing him on the spot was the fact that nearly everything I had to live for was in that room."

"I wasn't there," Linc says, trying to lighten the mood.

"That's why I said nearly. 'Nando, LJ, you, and Vee weren't there."

He grins and takes another drink of his coffee. "Be careful."

"Linc, it's not like I'm moving to Arizona. I'm moving ten minutes away for maybe a week. Give or take a few days."

"Or it could end up like it did nineteen years ago, when we thought it would be over once you got me out and made it to Panama."

"Thanks."

"No problem, Michael."

In about an hour and a half, everyone is awake and eating toast and bananas at the kitchen table. "What are we going to do, Michael?" I grab Sara's hand under the table and squeeze it. "I've got a plan." She smiles at me and nods. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that?"

After we eat, the five of us go back to the car and drive home to our house to get some clothes to wear while we're in my loft.

"You have to make this the fastest trip in and out of the house you've ever made," I tell the kids, and they nod in agreement as they psych themselves up to sprint up and down the stairs.

We pull in the driveway and barely allow time to let the car stop before we open the doors and go to the front door. When I go to get the door keys out of my pocket, I realize that the door's already unlocked.

Whatever. Just makes it faster for us.

I open the door and run inside first, but then put my arms back out when I look at what's in front of me.

"Run. Get in the car and don't look back until you're as far away as you can get," I tell Sara. She takes the kids back to the car.

"Nope. I don't think that's going to work, Sara. Come back and we can have a civil conversation like adults." Sara walks back slowly.

"Nothing can ever be civil with you."

Paul stares at her coldly, his stormy gray eyes studying her facial expression.

"Oh. I guess you did know where she was. Easier for me," Paul says, raising his gun to Faith's head and getting ready to pull the trigger.

"You know what? Do it. I dare you." Faith's forwardness surprises Paul, and you can see it in his face. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said to do it. If you're such a tough guy, then kill an innocent child. Look me in the eyes and tell me that it's fair."

He looks her in the eyes coldly.

"Where did you get your guts from?" He advances on her and she kicks him right in a spot where it counts.

"Get away from me."

Paul walks back over to her with the gun and shoves the barrel right into the side of Faith's head.

That's when I take my chance.

I punch him right in the back of the head, getting him off of Faith.

"You treat my daughter like that again and you don't make it off of this property unless it's in a body bag."

He grabs Faith, putting her in a headlock and pressing the barrel of his gun to her head. He faces me, almost taunting me with a look in his eyes that makes me want to hit him.

"You or her. Doesn't matter to me."

I pull the gun out of my back pocket and point it at his head.

"I can play the game."

He still stares at me, holding the gun to Faith's head. "Congratulations. You or her?"

I take a deep breath and put my hands in the air.

"Go ahead. You've waited a long time to kill me."

He shifts the gun toward me so I can look down the barrel and let's Faith go. "You chose this for yourself," he says.

When I hear the gun go off, all I can think is that it's the end.

He really did it.

I feel the sharp but familiar pain on the lower left part of my body. My legs buckle under me and Sara leans over me, trying to get the bleeding to stop.

"Sara, listen. If I don't make it-"

"Michael, stop. You're going to be fine."

Faith takes my gun and points it right at Paul's head. "Touch my family again and I'll do it."

"You don't have the guts to do it, little girl. You can't." Faith just laughs at him and I tilt my head up to wink at her.

"Little do you know, Paul. Little do you know."

He raises his gun to her, just testing the waters to see if she'll back down. She doesn't.

I see Paul jump her, and when I hear a gun go off, I can only hope that it was the right one when I black out.

•••

I wake up to beeping and the smell of chemicals and bleach.

A hospital.

I blink a few times and look around the room to see Linc, Sara, LJ, Michelle, Sucre, Vee, and Mari sitting in chairs, talking quietly in a corner of the room. The kids are in another corner of the room playing some kind of board game on the floor.

"Hey, dad," Mike says, jumping up onto the end of the hospital bed. This pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Hey, Mike. What time is it?" Sara laughs from the corner of the room.

"Five," she says, and when I look out the window I realize that she means five in the evening, judging by the sun that's barely beginning to set. "Oh. It hasn't been that long," I say, thinking it's just been 6 hours since I passed out.

"Michael, it's the next day. You've been out for 30 hours." I look at Fernando, trying to figure out if he's joking or not. "You're kidding, right?" He shakes his head. "No, papi. You've been out of surgery for 24 hours, knocked out."

I must look confused, so Sara explains. "The bullet got stuck, so you were in surgery for five hours while they tried find it and get it out. They finally found it and got it out."

Linc chimes in, "They didn't save it for you." He sounds slightly disappointed. "That's actually okay," I tell him, and he grins.

But then I remember something else. "And… Paul?" I wince as I say the name out loud. "You, uh, don't have to worry about him anymore," Faith says shyly. I wink at her so no one else sees it, and she shows a small smile.

"So you're not kidding, I've actually been out for 30 hours?" Everyone just nods.

"Did you guys call Chad yet?" Chad's my boss, and I guess I'm going to be off work for a while now. "Michael, my gosh. You've been awake for five minutes and you're already asking about work," Linc says. I hold my hands up gently, careful of the IVs that are connected to my forearms. "Sorry that I just want to make sure that I'm still going to have my job," I joke.

I'm starting to get sick of just sitting on the hospital bed, so I put my black Nikes on and try to get up. "What are you doing, Michael?" Sara puts her hand on my shoulder before I get the chance to stand up. "Going for a walk. Want to come?" She moves her hand off of my shoulder. "You're not supposed to leave this bed yet." I give her the shrug of indifference that she seems to hate. "And?" She just kind of smiles at me. "What will a nurse say if she sees you walking around in the hallway?"

"She should be excited, because it's not every day that that someone who gets shot walks the next day." Sara just laughs and playfully rolls her eyes at me. "That's not exactly how it works," she says.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, I don't make the rules."

I just laugh and take my shoes off.

"Fine. But I at least should be able to see what the scar looks like."

She puts her hands up in surrender and lets me walk into the bathroom.

"I don't know what you should expect, so just prepare yourself for it to look like death."

I walk across the room into the bathroom to look into the mirror, and when I look at the incision I realize that it looks almost worse than death. There are staples holding a six inch incision together, and in the middle of the line of staples the line gets wider. That must be where the hole was.

The incision is purple and red by the staples, swollen and looking like it's going to bust open at any second. I dare to run my fingers over it gently, and almost pull my hand back when I feel the rough skin over the incision. I sigh and pull the hospital gown back down. I walk out of the bathroom, and I must look like I watched five horror movies in a row because Sara looks at me with a concerned look on her face. "Is it really that bad?" I pull the gown up to show her the incision that's right above the waistband of my shorts. "Michael," she whispers, feeling the incision. "Holy crap, little brother, she was right. It does look like death." Fernando looks almost in pain himself at this point. "Man, papi, that looks like it hurts." I shrug and kind of laugh. Not really, but that's probably the leftover pain meds.

We really need to stay out of hospitals.