Back to You

by swc18

Sara’s perspective, starting at beginning of S4

3. Three

Michael burst through the doors into the warehouse. Sara whipped her head up and watched as he walked, aggravated, towards them all.

Bellick didn't waste any time, "Well, what did Self say?"

"We have to get the other cards." Michael replied curtly.

"Hell with that! We did what he asked!" Bellick was as frustrated as the rest of them, but no one else was showing it. Sara looked around at the group; Lincoln stood with his arms crossed, gazing downward at Bellick, Mahone gripped the back of a chair with his head lowered, staring at the table, Sucre sat back in one of the chairs and fiddled with a pen anxiously.

"Then call agent Self and tell him you want to go back to Fox River. We have to get the cards." Michael answered firmly.

It wasn't as if they had a choice. They were all criminals at this point, and Self knew that. Whatever he wanted them to do, they were at his mercy.

Sara felt like she was thrown back into her youth, where instead of Self's demands, it was her father's "My house, my rules" philosophy, which he imposed on her to the extreme. Not only was she expected to do whatever he asked of her, failing to do so would bring shame on their name, tarnishing his political career with her pre-teen antics. She rolled her eyes at the thought. He could be quite a drama queen. Does anyone really care if the daughter of a Governor went to a few parties in high school? She wasn't him, and he wasn't her. She'd never understood how people could judge others based on their family members' choices.

Sara watched as Mahone went over to Michael, leaning in close and asking in a hushed tone, "When the government gets scared they shut things down...has there been any talk about pulling the plug?"

She nervously pulled down on the sleeves of her black sweater and crossed her arms, leaning forward, awaiting Michael's answer.

He narrowed his eyes, "Let's just concentrate on finding Scylla, alright?"

She could feel his frustration. They'd been screwed over so many times and everyone looked to him for all the answers. He didn't have them; but she knew he'd die trying.

Rolland came down the stairs and popped something into his mouth, chewing as he went over to his laptop.

Michael glanced over at him, "How's it coming with the rest of the stuff you found?"

"Printing it off now. When my device was in the house it must have been next to Tuxhorn's cell phone or something. Picked up a lot of data."

Sara was sitting by the printer. She'd been sneaking glances at the documents as they were printed off; emails, his calendar, phone calls, it was all there. Most of it was useless.

She picked up the calendar, figuring if something important was happening, that's where it would be, right?

She noticed immediately that one of the days was blank. Today? Was today the 14th? She pulled her phone from her pocket to confirm the date; the days had all become a blur since they started living in the warehouse. But yes, it was indeed the 14th, the one blank space. Strange.

"Come look at this," she motioned for Michael to come over, Lincoln followed not far behind.

"This is his calendar; today just has a star...but every other day has something on it-meetings, where, when, who..."

Michael leaned forward to get a better look, bracing his right arm on the table and his left on the back of her chair, "Must be some reason he's keeping that a secret."

He lingered close behind her and she could feel the warmth of him, the air surrounding her taking on a blanket-like quality and she felt herself relax; only slightly, but there was a lot to be said for that, given her heightened state of anxiety lately. Being around him tended to do that, which was one of the things she'd always liked about him. Even at Fox River their encounters had left her at ease, trusting him to behave himself, and knowing she was safe around him.

She crossed her left arm over her body and put her hand on top of his. He startled, and she realized he'd been looking the other way, lost in thought, but she still found it odd-she was the jumpy one, not him.

Michael straightened up and turned to the group as Bellick started ranting again, "Why don't we call Self? There's gotta be another way. He can't expect us to do this we already got Scylla-"

"Enough," Michael interrupted sharply and everyone's head snapped up to attention.

"Help out or get out," he was addressing the whole group now.

Sara could hear her heart pounding as everyone fell silent.

"If you open your mouth I expect you to offer up a solution."

Sara felt her eyes grow wider, surprised at the harsh, authoritative quality of his voice. It took a lot for him to lose his cool. A lot. Even when Lincoln was almost executed, he hadn't been visibly angry. He'd looked shocked. Scared. Heartbroken. But not angry. Of course he probably was, as he should be, but he didn't show it.

That made his sudden outburst was even more unsettling. He was obviously more stressed lately than he'd been letting on. When people like Michael, who are always calm even under dire circumstances finally lose it...people listen.

She could feel that jolt of awareness in the room, like a classroom full of chatty students interrupted by the teacher whose patience had finally run out.

Everyone was still staring at Michael, eyes wide. The printer chugging along was the only thing breaking the silence, and she was grateful for it; a simple noise like that can be the most welcome distraction in a room full of tension. Mahone and Lincoln were the only two who didn't seem completely shocked, either that or they were better at hiding it.

In any case, she tore her glance away from the group, looking back down at the stack of papers in front of her to see if anything useful had printed.

Michael walked behind her and over to the table in the corner, pouring himself a cup of coffee as the group dispersed, all trying to find something useful…something to help find their way out of this dizzying maze.

She could see him tensing up; his arms outstretched and straight, bracing himself as he leaned against the table. His head lowered, hanging down between his arms.

She hesitated a moment; Michael certainly didn't win any awards for expressing his feelings, and she didn't want to push it. Maybe he needed to be alone, to think things through- that seemed to be his preferred method of scheming.

I'll just let him be for a minute.

She tapped her foot nervously. Her eyes skimmed the pages that had printed, but her mind failed to absorb any information from them. Her gaze darted back to Michael, and she found herself pushing her chair back and making her way over to him. She had to try...offer an ear when he obviously needed one, whether he knew it or not.

"Hey," she greeted and he raised his head. She leaned her back against the table and faced him, "I know you had to keep secrets from me at Fox River but you don't anymore...what's going on?"

He had that look in his eyes, not just stress but...masked fear. She'd seen it before at Fox River when she had the locks changed on the door, but in that moment, she'd been too pissed off at him to feel any sympathy.

"Maintenance is here to change the locks, want me to call them off?" Katie had asked her, now that she'd found her keys that Michael had sneakily returned.

"No, send them in." She'd retorted coolly, holding a guilty Michael's gaze the entire time. She remembered that feeling of simmering rage, her eyes burning a hole in his; him squirming under that gaze like a bug searing under the harsh light of a magnifying glass.

But today there was more than just fear; his eyes looked tired, and seeing his heartache caused hers to ache as well.

He stood up fully and faced her, "Self said we have until the end of today to get the next card...or we all go back to prison."

Her mind reeled, then went completely blank. Self was expecting them to do something that he himself hadn't been able to accomplish over the course of what-months? Years? In a day. One day.

She put a hand on Michael's arm, "What can I do to help?"

He smiled weakly and spoke quietly, "I uh, I guess just keep looking through whatever Rolland has printing off. There's gotta be something else useful in there."

He said it with a hint of uncertainty. The rest of what printed off could be completely useless and they both knew it, but it was all they had.

She gave him a nod and slid her hand down his arm until it reached his. She gave it a squeeze, wishing she could offer more than this simple act of reassurance, wishing that she could bear an equal burden...that they all could. Everything always seemed to land on his shoulders, and the best she could do was offer support. Thankfully, that seemed to be enough for him. He never complained, and never gave into the "why me?" questions that must have popped into his mind from time to time. She respected him for that, but it didn't make her feel any less guilty.

Footsteps approaching them drew her attention away from Michael. She watched as Lincoln walked over, looking a bit dazed and out of sorts somehow. Sara narrowed her eyebrows as he approached.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Did you guys know about Mahone's kid?"

Michael answered, "Yea, I know he has a son, why?"

Lincoln paused, "He's dead."

"What?!" Sara and Michael replied in unison.

"I overheard him talking to Lang out there…a company agent killed him I guess."

Sara looked up at Michael, "We…we had no idea."

She watched as her train of thought went straight from the normal "that's terrible, how sad" to "Alex used to be an addict". If she were in his shoes, she knew right where her instincts would go-Morphine. Alcohol. Or both. Anything to numb the pain.

She shivered and felt a wave of nausea, remembering what happened…what she did, after she left the door open for them. She blinked hard and did her best to push that notion out of her mind.

"Is he still outside?" she asked Lincoln.

"Yea."

"I'll go talk to him," she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Michael and Lincoln both nodded silently, while looking a bit surprised that she'd volunteered. She didn't know why she felt compelled to. Mahone wasn't a close friend, and they certainly had a confused past between them. Hell, he'd even had her arrested, preventing her from getting on that freighter with Michael and Lincoln.

She contemplated this as she made her way across the warehouse. Maybe it was the doctor in her that made her feel the need to comfort, but it was more likely the addict. She needed to break the ice and let him know they were all aware of what happened, and that he's not alone. She understands. There's a reason AA has group meetings; struggling alone isn't necessary, not for anyone, not even for a man that arrested her.

She opened the door and stepped outside, feeling the cool wind blowing in off the water. Her thin black sweater and blue tank top not providing much protection from the chill. A gust of wind whipped her hair out of her face and kept it flowing behind her as she walked towards the corner of the building.

Mahone was leaning against the building, facing the water. His hands were in his pockets and his eyes were glued on the horizon as he shifted his weight back and forth between his feet.

"Hey," Sara greeted, not wanting to startle him.

He looked over at her and an expression of confusion appeared on his face, as if she was the last person he was expecting to see.

"Hey," he replied with a nod.

His eyes were red, his face a bit flushed with the vein in his forehead threatening to pop out.

A silence fell between them. He looked at her expectedly, wondering why she was out there.

"Look," she began, running a hand through her hair, "I uh, I don't want to intrude…but I know about your son."

He met her eyes and looked surprised, his body language becoming more vulnerable.

"And I'm sorry," she spoke slowly, sincerely, "I just wanted to let you know that we're all here to help…however we can."

He nodded again in a slightly agitated way. His body suddenly becoming jittery, shifting his weight back and forth faster before standing up fully and separating from the building.

"You can all help," he took a shaky breath in, "by helping me find the bastard who…killed…my…kid." He was near tears now.

Her chest tightened and she swallowed. She knew all too well what it was like to have The Company go after someone you loved. Her father was gone because of them and their agenda, a pawn in their game who was no longer useful, and who posed a threat. Mahone's son wasn't even involved; a truly innocent person, disposed of simply to spite him, derail him, and destroy him if he wasn't careful.

She'd spent plenty of time brooding about the injustice of it all, how carelessly they kill; they kill the innocent, the uninvolved, without a shred of remorse and dismiss it as "just following orders" as if that offers any consolation to the people left behind, grieving.

She put a hand on his arm and he looked up to meet her eyes. She could see his pain, bone deep and unrelenting.

"We will. Alex, we will, but you have to do something too."

His face was more flushed, red with anger and grief as he almost laughed, "And what's that?"

She held his gaze and shrugged, "Don't do anything stupid."

Understanding registered in his face. Addict to addict, he understood; he couldn't relapse. He needed to stay sharp to see this through.

She knew about his affinity for tranquilizing drugs, and if there was ever a time that he needed tranquility, it was now. A sense of calm, of everything being ok. But he couldn't. Everything wasn't ok, and they were all here to try and fix that. They all had their reasons, and his was clearer than ever.

He nodded and replied, "I know," and there was once again silence between them.

She watched the sunlight glistening on the water and felt the breeze continuing to play with her hair. She thought about her father. How far would she go for revenge? Mahone would clearly do anything to get his hands on the man responsible for his son's death, but when she asked herself that question her answer intrigued her. How far would she go? Not very; but not because of her difficult relationship with her father.

She'd never really questioned who specifically killed him, whose hands had tied the rope, because she knew that The Company was responsible. The Company, who operated much like the mythical creature Scylla they seemed to worship so much. A six headed monster. To kill something like that, you had to take out the heart, the core. Merely severing one head wouldn't do the job. Killing one man, one "head" of the monster wouldn't take them down, and certainly wouldn't satisfy any need for revenge she may have buried in her core. They had to take them all down. That's why they were here.

She took her gaze off the water and glanced sideways at Alex. His breathing was steady, and his face had faded back to its normal color.

"Hey Alex," her voice startling him as she broke the silence.

"Yea?"

She hesitated, "Do you think it'll all be worth it?"

"Which part?" he asked with good natured sarcasm.

She let out a small laugh, "Uh, I was thinking mostly about the "revenge" part. You want to find the man who took your son, and I get that. But…after you do that, then what?" she asked gently with genuine curiosity.

"Then," he spoke slowly, kicking a stray pebble on the concrete, "then I can call Pam, and tell her that she's safe, and that it's over."

Ah. Pam. That explains part of it.

"Have you talked to her lately?"

"No. Not until I know she's safe."

She nodded, and took once last glance at the glistening water, "Are ready to go back in? Or do you want more time alone?" she asked. It was getting cold standing out there and she knew there were a lot of pages to go over.

He exhaled and said quietly, "I'm ready, and I can still do my job, I swear I can-"

"I know," she said firmly, "none of us doubt that."

XXXXX

Sara and Mahone entered the warehouse and went over to the table where everyone was gathered.

"Hey, there's the lady of the hour," Rolland greeted with a smirk.

Sara shot Michael a confused look, her mouth slightly agape.

"We're gonna need you to sweet-talk a security guard into giving you his badge." Rolland continued with a suggestive eyebrow wriggle.

"Shut up," Lincoln barked.

Michael rolled his eyes and looked at Sara, clarifying the situation, "There's a server in Anaheim where two of Tuxhorn's emails were routed through. We need to get into that building, but we need a security badge to gain access."

She shrugged and crossed her arms, "So, I steal it? How?"

"From what we can tell, the guard at the front desk doesn't wear his badge on him, which means it's probably on his desk. If he turns around for even a second you can snatch it and pass it off behind your back to me."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Get to the server room and use Rolland's computer to get the emails…hopefully there will be something useful."

She nodded, "Alright, when do we do this?"

Everyone looked at Michael.

"Can everyone be ready in ten?"

The group responded with unanimous nods.

"Alright then."

XXXXX

Sara went onto the boat and dug through her bag, thanking herself for thinking to pack at least one professional-looking outfit. Her cover story for the security guard would be that she's there for a job interview, so she needed to look the part.

She grabbed her gray pant suit and shook it out a bit, trying to lessen the few wrinkles that had developed during their travels. One by one, she slipped her legs into the pants and fastened the clasp. She put on a dark pink shirt and shrugged the jacket on, pulling her hair back into a simple ponytail.

She slung her purse over her shoulder, and took a deep breath, looking in the mirror. She couldn't remember the last time she'd dressed like this.

The gray pants were a pair she'd often worn at Fox River; they were broken in and comfortable and that's how she expected them to feel, but they felt disappointing and foreign. Putting them on today made her feel like a fraud. In the mirror was Dr. Tancredi, ready to save lives and tip the scales towards justice, to right the wrongs of her father's administration.

But today her only job was to be Stephanie Reid. A fictional mother of two, applying for a job when her only real job was to steal a security badge.

This realization came with a wave of disappointment, a detachment from her former identity. Could she ever be a doctor again? Her license was long gone, but a small part of her hoped there would be a way…somehow. Her mind flicked back to her conversation with Michael on the train to Chicago.

"Do you really think you can get it all back?" She'd asked, directing the question to him, but also asking on her own behalf. Did he honestly think they could? That he could be an engineer again, she a doctor…the well-educated couple living on the right side of the tracks, smiling brightly as they passed their neighbors walking down the street. Neighbors who were just as well-off.

His reply had been simple, "I choose to have faith…because without that, I have nothing."

She took in her reflection for another moment before going out to join the group, to play her role; a role that she had to believe could change, but for today she could deal with being Stephanie Reid. Today was what she had to work with; it was all any of them had.

XXXXX

The security guard was a large man with some stubble on his face and kind blue eyes. She approached him, thankful that her "job interview" cover would easily explain the undercurrent of nervousness she was feeling.

Lincoln and Sucre had eyes on her from their parked car, which made her feel a bit more at ease. If anything happened, they'd see.

Michael and Rolland were in the building, ready to slip behind her and grab the card after she snagged it.

The guard gave her an easy smile as she approached, "Hi, can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Stephanie Reid, I'm here for a job interview."

"Ok, let me call HR real quick and see if they're ready for you."

She smiled as she leaned into the desk, "Thank you so much."

Her eyes scanned his work area and quickly found the security badge she needed sitting next to his computer.

He dialed the phone and had a brief conversation before hanging up.

"I'm sorry, doesn't look like they have you on the schedule for today."

"Huh," she feigned confusion, "Uh, it was really hard to get a sitter today…can you see if it's possible for anyone to see me since I'm here?"

"Sure," he smiled and turned around to grab a sheet with phone numbers on it.

She snatched the badge swiftly and held it behind her back, heart racing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Michael and Rolland approaching.

They walked close behind her and she felt Michael take the badge smoothly from her grip, his hand ever so slightly brushing against her ass in the process. She looked over her right shoulder to watch him walking away, he winked at her. That stinker.

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling as she waited for the guard to get off the phone.

Michael and Rolland continued down a hallway to her right and she redirected her attention to the guard, who was hanging up the phone once again.

"Sorry, no one is available today. There's nothing more I can do."

"Ok, well, thank you so much for your help, I really appreciate it." She turned on her heels and started to make her way towards Lincoln and Sucre, still trying not to smile at Michael's sneakiness.

She was halfway to the door and started feeling the rush of relief.

"Hey," the guard barked.

"Yea?" she faced him as her relief turned to anxiousness, summoning up the most innocent expression she could.

"Where's my badge sweetheart?" he demanded, "It was here when you got here and now it's gone."

She tried her best to stay calm, hoping it would temper his mounting rage, "Sir, I don't have your badge."

It wasn't a lie, which made it easier to say calmly and with confidence.

She realized that she was directly in between Lincoln's line of sight and the guard, so she shifted slightly to the side, hoping to give Lincoln a clearer view of what was going on. He needed to see that she was in trouble.

"You're coming with me-," he started to say, when the fire alarm went off. Whether that was Michael's doing or a fluke, it was her chance to escape and she didn't hesitate.

She started running towards the door, but the guard caught her by the arm, clutching her bicep and bringing her to a violent halt.

"Let me go," she demanded, staring daggers at him, holding her ground, "I don't have your badge," she enunciated each word clearly.

"Well someone does, and you're going to tell me who."

People hurried past them on either side, evacuating the building as the fire alarm continued to wail.

Her eyes darted to the side just in time to see Lincoln barreling through the crowd, coming up behind the guard and smacking him in the head with the butt end of an ax.

The grip on her arm released as the guard fell to the ground, slumping face-down.

"You ok?" Lincoln asked.

"Yea I'm fine," she said, slightly shocked at the man now lying on the floor, "are Michael and Rolland ok?"

"Don't know," Lincoln replied, "know where they went?"

"To the right," she pointed to the side of the desk that Michael and Rolland had disappeared behind.

Lincoln started running and she followed, down the hallway and up the stairs, hugging the wall as they fought the mob of people flowing down the stairs, fleeing the building.

Now that they were headed in the right direction, Lincoln elaborated as much as he ever did,"They're trapped."

"Trapped?"

"Yea, in the server room. Fire alarm made the door lock or something, we gotta find 'em."

"Ok," was all she could manage. Trapped how? Were they ok?

When they reached the third floor, Lincoln grabbed the metal door handle, clicking it down and flinging the door open. They entered the hallway, eyes darting around to find the server room which happened to be straight across the hall from them.

She could see Michael and Rolland on the floor, inside a room with plenty of windows.

Lincoln barged in front of her, "Stand back," he told her as he used one solid swing of the ax to smash the glass.

"Come on!" Michael ordered, pulling Rolland up from the floor and dragging him towards the now open window.

"You ok?" Sara asked as she put a hand on Michael's back, noticing how deep and labored his breathing was.

"They cut the oxygen from the room; safety measure when the fire alarm is pulled," he replied between pants.

He'd be alright. He was conscious and lucid, that was all she needed to know as the four of them ran out of the server room and headed to the stairwell, Michael and Rolland both still struggling to catch their breath.

She stayed in the back of the group and kept a close eye on them both, but mostly Michael, as they went down the stairs. He was still panting, but after scanning her eyes up and down him multiple times for reassurance, he didn't seem to be hurt other than that.

The sound of their rapid, pounding footsteps echoed in the stairwell until they finally reached the main lobby door again, swinging it open and making their way to the exit.

Sara slowed as she noticed the guard, still face down in the middle of the room as they barged past him, feeling a shred of remorse...the poor guy was just trying to do his job before they came and ruined his day.

Michael, who was only a few steps ahead of her, turned back to make sure she hadn't fallen behind. He looked at the guard and then to her, his eyes full of understanding. Too many people had been hurt in their quest for freedom and suddenly, she felt worse for him than she did the guard. Michael would never willing hurt anyone, and guilt probably took more of a toll than he'd ever admit.

He met her eyes again and reached an arm out, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her ahead of him towards the car.

They all piled in quickly. Given the chaos around them that the fire alarm had created, that didn't seem abnormal. She slammed the door shut behind her and scooted in closer to Michael.

"Go!" Michael yelled as Sucre peeled out and they sped towards the warehouse.

It wasn't until they were a safe distance away that she realized something; Michael's hand had touched the small of her back without warning, and she didn't flinch.

XXXX

Sucre parked the car and they all hurried inside the warehouse, the air buzzing with the panic they all felt. Sara followed Michael over to the table, noting that despite the stress they were under, his breathing had evened out and wasn't labored anymore. Rolland was obviously ok as well, considering he wasted no time in bounding up the stairs to retrieve his laptop from his cot on the upper level. She'd have to have a chat with Michael about their entrapment in the server room later, but for now she could hold off on forcing him into a physical exam and relentless questioning.

Mahone, who had been standing by the board with a marker in hand, turned to them, "Did you get anything?"

Michael answered, "I guess we'll find out," as he nodded to Rolland, who was now seated at the table, hands flying across the keyboard. The printer hummed to life and started spitting out some of Tuxhorn's emails they'd recovered.

Sara walked over to it and grabbed the first print off; it was an ad for medication…for erectile dysfunction. This wasn't going to be awkward at all.

"What is it?" Michael asked.

"Uh, it's an advertisement…" she placed the print out on the table for them all to see, figuring pictures were better than words, and saving herself the discomfort of saying it out loud to a room full of men.

Rolland huffed in frustration, "Really?! Really…so glad I almost died for that."

Lincoln rolled his eyes.

Another page started printing and she reluctantly went over to get it, praying it was for something less embarrassing than the previous page.

"It's a flyer for a star gazing club," she realized aloud, looking at the map of constellations that had printed before her.

Michael seemed as confused as she was, "What could they use this for?"

Mahone chimed in, "There's a website you can use, you plug in the star coordinates and it can pinpoint your exact location on Earth using the location of the stars."

He moved over next to Rolland, who scooted out of the way, allowing Mahone access to the laptop.

"How do you know that?" Michael wondered.

"Because my son and my…" he paused to make sure he was entering the coordinates correctly, "my ex and…and I, used to do this. When I was working out in the field somewhere, they could do this and know where I was."

Sara watched his face as he reminisced about his son, seeing the softness in his eyes for only a moment, before they snapped back to attention and focused on the task at hand. It couldn't be easy, talking about him already with the grief being so fresh, but she's glad that he was.

He must have felt her eyes on him, because he looked up and met her gaze, holding it for just a moment before giving the slightest nod. He was going to be ok- he could do this. She wasn't foolish enough to think that he wouldn't seek revenge, that he wouldn't go to the ends of the Earth to hunt down the monster who'd taken his son, but he was a smart agent. He was here, doing this job now, and she knew he'd pull more than his weight.

She walked over behind Mahone and squinted to read the location, "That's over Antarctica…he's not gonna get there by 4pm today from L.A."

"What else we got?" Lincoln asked.

Rolland took over again and started typing. He hit "Enter" several times in a row, with mounting frustration. Nothing was happening on the screen. He tried a few short cuts and key combinations that Sara couldn't discern, but the screen didn't change.

"We're locked out," Rolland said with disbelief, "we're locked out!"

Sara looked up at Michael who was staring straight ahead, mind scrambling. He looked at Mahone and she saw the glance exchanged, the mutual understanding. A second later he addressed the group, "We need to run."

They'd been shut down. The plug had been pulled.

All six of them ran to the SUV, pulling the doors open and scrambling in before speeding out of the warehouse.

It was cramped in the back seat, but Sara twisted around to check behind them, her elbow digging into Michael's side in the process.

"Sorry," she mumbled to him as she saw a black car approaching fast; she couldn't tell who was driving but the passenger seat was occupied by none other than Don Self.

"It's Self."

"What?" Michael asked with disbelief.

"Behind us, I can't see who's driving, but Don's in the car."

Michael twisted sideways in his seat to access his front pocket, pulling out his phone and calling Self. She watched him behind them as he answered it, finding it somewhat amusing despite herself, and being surprised that he actually picked up. Car chases don't usually involve the chase-ee calling the chase-er.

Michael was yelling, but she couldn't hear what Self was saying on the other end. Based on what she could see of his face, he wasn't happy either. And she didn't care. Once again, they'd been cheated and lied to…manipulated, and had nothing to show for it.

Her neck was starting to protest at her uncomfortable position, so she turned around to face forward, Michael still angrily shouting next to her. She looked down and started fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, folding it over itself and then unfolding it again.

Despite the chaos, her mind went quiet, watching her fingers folding and unfolding the fabric. It all felt like a dream, like nothing she did would create a different outcome, and all they could do was keep running.

All that avails is flight. She shuddered as that line haunted her, manifesting before her eyes.

Michael hung up and said firmly to Lincoln, "Lose them."

Lincoln sped up and started weaving in and out of traffic. Her mind struggled to keep up with the route they were taking, the frames taken in by her eyes were filtering through her mind in slow motion. She was glad Lincoln was the one driving, he was good at it apparently, although she knew she shouldn't be surprised.

She started to think they had a chance at making it when a semi-truck popped out in front of them, cutting them off and forcing them to a complete halt. A gasp escaped her as Lincoln slammed on the breaks, sending all of them lurching forward in their seats.

Sucre was already opening the door before the car was even parked, and they all piled out quickly. There was no time to think as they all got out and started running. Sprinting. To where? None of them knew, but they were somehow able to stick together, moving like a herd, acutely aware of where all the members were at any given moment.

They stopped behind an old dumpster to catch their breath and to find their bearings.

"How could you tell them we'd get another card in ONE DAY?!" Mahone screamed in Michael's face.

"I didn't set the terms!" Michael yelled back with just as much ferocity.

Sara bent over and rested her hands on her knees, feeling the burning in her legs as she tried to catch her breath.

Michael and Mahone argued back and forth before Lincoln broke it up, "GUYS! It doesn't matter. We ain't getting anywhere with these on our ankles," he lifted his pant leg to show the ankle monitor.

The look on everyone's face made it clear that she wasn't the only one who'd forgotten about those in their haste to escape.

"Is there any way to block the signal?" she asked.

Michael's eyes went to a large concrete bridge not far away and she could see what he was thinking. He started jogging in that direction and they all followed. It wasn't a long-term solution but at least being under the bridge would conceal their location for the time being.

They all slowed to a walk, and the air under the bridge was noticeably more stale, with no wind to carry away the smell of sweat and dirt. She heard panting and yelling, the shuffle of feet against the gravel, and could feel the sense of agitation in the group. But her concern was only for Michael, who stepped away from her and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking pained as he squinted his eyes shut. He turned his back and tried to hide it, but she wouldn't be fooled that easily.

She went to his side and placed a hand on his back, "Are you ok?"

He let out an exhale and offered a weak, "Yea."

"Hey, we'll figure this out," she reassured.

"You can't know that."

"Well, we're getting pretty good at pulling off the impossible…hell, I even came back from the dead, right?"

As she was talking his eyes were on a bulletin board in front of them. He stared at it intensely. Her eyes scanned the board; there was a missing dog, an ad for a local band playing at a bar…nothing that stuck out.

"What do you see?" she asked, wondering what her mind dismissed that his hadn't.

He pulled the two printed emails out of his pocket, "They go over each other."

Still confused, she followed as he jogged over to a concrete ledge and grabbed a stray nail from the ground. She watched as he used the nail to scratch off the stars on the map and placed it over the ad email.

Mahone was hovering now too, watching to see what it revealed, four words: New, power, plant, and beach.

Mahone knew immediately, "There's a power plant in Newport Beach, that's your "where"."

Lincoln looked at his watch, "We don't have long until 4pm."

"Then I guess we better go," Michael replied as they all started running again.

What were they even going to do if they made it to the meeting on time? That hadn't really been discussed, she realized as they continued running at a good pace. It's not like they could just show up and join the little chat, taking photos of the card holders for posterity.

After what felt like a good quarter mile, which didn't even put a dent in the distance they had to cover, Sara spoke up, "There's no way we're going to get there without a car."

They all slowed down, knowing she was right. Lincoln looked across the street and saw a taxi nearby. He ran over to it and opened the driver's door, startling the man inside.

"Get out," he demanded, and before the driver could answer, Lincoln's hands were on the collar of his shirt, dragging him out and taking his place as everyone else piled in.

She glanced at the driver, his eyes wide with fear as he scrambled backwards on the ground. Just another person, going about their day and having the fear of God put in them for a reason they'd never know. At least he'd be ok, she told herself as they sped off. He wasn't dead. Considering how much death was going around lately, she considered that a plus.

They arrived at the power plant and got out of the car, running towards the back side of the building where the meeting would be.

Seconds later, Don Self and a flurry of agents pulled up right in front of them, rushing out of their cars with weapons raised. Her instinct was to freeze, they were trapped-the place had fences all over. But Michael and Lincoln took off; an imaginary starting gun sending them both flying, but in opposite directions.

She ran after Michael, sticking together. She glanced back and saw Mahone running off a third way with Sucre. Bellick was already in handcuffs.

Tires screeched a ways behind them and she heard a thud. Michael stopped running too and they both turned back to see Lincoln on the ground, struck by the car and now being handcuffed. They looked at each other, Sara waiting to see his reaction. She cared about Lincoln, but he was Michael's brother, the choice to keep running or to go make sure he was ok was up to Michael.

"Come on," he said, waving his hand as he turned to keep going.

She followed but knew it was no use. There were agents right behind them, and she knew what she had to do.

"Go!" she yelled.

"You sure?"

"Yea-just go," she answered. Michael could still make it to the Scylla meeting at 4pm, it was their only shot…for all of them. He had to make it.

She brought her hands behind her head and calmly turned around to face the two agents. Their guns were raised but she hardly noticed anymore. How many times in the last year had she had a gun pointed at her? Too many to count, it barely phased her anymore.

They handcuffed her and brought her back to where all the vehicles were parked. They were all there, everyone except Michael was in handcuffs, leaning against the company vehicles, waiting as the agents bantered back and forth about what to do with them.

Self shoved Lincoln into the police car.

"Congratulations, the company wins," Lincoln said sarcastically, grimacing at Self once last time before disappearing into the vehicle.

Bellick was next and started begging shamelessly, "Come on man, badge to badge, I can't do more time, I can't go back to Fox River."

Self didn't dignify that with a response, he just put his hand on top of Bellick's head and shoved him into the car with Lincoln.

The agent standing next to Sara spoke up, "What about her?"

Sara knew what was coming, her muscles primed to move towards the car, accepting her fate.

Self paused for a moment, "Let her go."

"What?"

She looked at the agent next to her who nodded, and started undoing her hand cuffs.

What the hell. Why? Why just me? What's the catch…there must be some ulterior motive here.

Maybe they hoped she'd lead them to Michael eventually. They'd follow her every move. She'd be constantly under surveillance, watched from the shadows. They'd find them both, and then it would be over. She and Michael would be sent to different prisons, never able to see each other. She couldn't let that happen.

Rubbing her wrists after the handcuffs were removed, she made her way into the warehouse to grab her belongings. Her footsteps echoed throughout the building, no chatting or keys clicking to create a pleasant hum of background noise. It was eerie. She climbed onto the boat and went inside to grab her purse. Michael's bag was sitting on the boat just inside the door, so she slung it over her shoulder as well and grabbed his wallet from the bedside table. It contained his fake ID…not that it would be useful anymore, but it might be better than nothing.

Her mind was still racing, why the hell had they let her go? Something was off. It felt like the calm before the storm as she observed the quietness aboard the boat, sinking down onto the softness of the bed. Silence. Solitude. The illusion of freedom. Almost as if she could close her eyes and pretend the boat was adrift in the ocean, rocking gently, feeling the warmth of the sun and the stillness of the deep, blue water.

With a long exhale, she reluctantly pushed herself to her feet and exited the boat, climbing down with both of their bags, and trudged across the warehouse like an animal being led to slaughter. Her hand combed through her hair, something it often did when she was nervous, but the habit didn't settle her. She couldn't be free. Something would happen as soon as she left the false safety of the warehouse. They'd arrest her. Her thumb ran over the dark pink indents on her wrist where the handcuffs had recently left their mark. They'd threaten her and Michael again if they couldn't deliver results of some ridiculous task.

Why? Why did they let me go? What's worse than being arrested…are they just going to kill us?

She shook that notion from her head, trying to think of all the possible scenarios that involved her being alive and free and useful to the Company, each one more depressing than the last.

By now, she'd reached the door, but she didn't want to walk out. She closed her eyes. Her hope of finding Michael un-handcuffed and injury free was the only thing that finally made her push open the door.

Blinking in the sunlight, she saw a car pull up behind the other vehicles. It was Michael. The agents looked just as surprised as she was as he stepped out, hands in the air.

Was he surrendering? Something in his right hand glistened in the sun and caught her eye- it was his cell phone, which he handed to Self. She couldn't hear what was being said and hurried to get closer, dropping both bags in the process.

He'd made it-he'd gotten to the Scylla meeting and had a recording of not one, but all six card holders. They had faces, and possibly even names if their conversation could be heard on the poor-quality video. They had something. Self had to let them keep trying…right?

She watched from the concrete ledge she was standing on as Self went over and let Lincoln, Sucre, Bellick and Mahone all out of the car, undoing their cuffs.

I guess we do have a second chance, she thought, but she couldn't help but wonder about Self's behavior.

He was the one who approached them in the first place and started this whole thing. All it took was a slight delay for him to drop the whole matter and come after them. It didn't sit right. He must not be as high up as he made out to be, which seemed to be a common theme among law enforcement. Mahone being a prime example. For all the power he'd had, there'd been someone puppet mastering him. Self must be in a similar position, but she wanted to know who the puppet master was. And why.

Michael walked over to her, pulling her out of her contemplation. She smiled down at him as he took her hands in his, "One day, I swear we'll drop that little boat of yours in the water and we'll never look back."

She exhaled a soft laugh, it was as if he'd known about her little daydream on the boat just moments before, "I'd like that."

Her eyes closed as she held his hands tightly and felt their warmth, willing back that sensation of peace, being lulled by the gentle waves. Alone in the warehouse on a land-locked boat, those thoughts had been a cruel torment, born from wishful thinking of dreams that could never be fulfilled. But now, standing with her hands safely wrapped in his, those dreams felt tangible, possible.

She opened her eyes again and saw his clear, blue ones staring up at her. Still standing on the ledge, the top of his head was just about at chest level. She reached out and brought him closer, running her fingers over his buzzed-cut hair, and planted a kiss on top of his head. His arms wrapped around her legs as she cradled his head to her chest, resting her cheek on it. They had another chance.