PART 4

'There's a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.'

– Morpheus, The Matrix.

'I wanted to wait for you.' I whispered, tears still threatening to spill over. 'I wanted to believe it was real...I just couldn't ...before.'

Maybe this wasn't the time or the place, but I needed to get rid of all the excess bagage. With the conversation with his brother still in my head, I needed to give him some answers of my own. I would take whatever answers he was willing to give me.

'Wanting you to wait for me...that was real. But as much as it killed me to know I was losing you, I needed to go ahead with the plan. I had to try to get Lincoln out, to get him safe. He's my family. He's the reason I was there in the first place.'

'I know.' I softly squeezed his arm, encouraging him to continue.

'But you...you were the reason I stayed alive in there. And not because you were the maintenance crew to clean me up everytime, Sara. With you, I could be myself even if I didn't want to. You kept me honest, even though I couldn't always be honest with you...' He sighed. 'I'm so sorry about what happened ...to you. So very sorry.' He looked down at the floor.

'I thought it had all been an act...everything. The charms, the looks, the conversations...I just didn't understand. My heart was telling me it was real, but my head ...was convincing me it had all been a big lie, that I'd been used once again. That I had been nothing more than a pawn in a very elaborate game.' I swallowed, remembering all those horrible feelings and the confusion.

'You were never a pawn, Sara' He stressed the words. 'I needed the infirmary, that was the plan. Getting you involved wasn't. At first I needed to be there for the plan, like I said but then I wanted to be there, needed to be around you ... for myself. I never expected you to care so much, never could have imagined I would start to care for you in the way that I did. I tried so hard to shut it all out, but I couldn't. You slipped into my mind and found your way into my heart as well.' He had started fidgeting. With his last words, he glanced over at me looking like a dear caught in the headlights. His gaze shifted to the darkness surrounding us, staring at the opposite bed on which Lincoln was soundly sleeping. He stopped his hands and released a long sigh.

'The moment I realized you weren't just the doctor anymore, it was already too late. I could plan everything to the second from the outside but once inside I quickly lost control over the plan. I had to make so many last minute adjustments because of the other inmates. Everything became complicated and then I had to involve you. I hoped you would understand, hoped you would believe me but I knew how bad it looked. I knew I was asking you to risk a lot, but had I known I would destroy your life...' He added agitated, guilt written all over his face..'I did a background check on you, but I never knew...' He didn't finish his sentence.

'You couldn't have known about my past. My dad kept it hidden. No records to show for it...no spot on his political name...' My voice was stronger than I felt.

'Still, I shouldn't have asked you to do it... I asked you to risk everything, without giving you anything in return after betraying your trust more than once.' The guilt was tangible.

It was my turn to make –him- understand. Time to own up to my own mistakes.

'Michael, I trusted my head in believing you used me, because in the past I've never learned to trust my heart. I was taught to push emotions away, to numb them. My mother was an alcoholic who couldn't face the world around her. My father was never there. I learned to survive with my head.'

I could tell every nerve ending in his body was focussed on me. His hunger to see inside my mind, my soul evident. He wanted to understand, to listen, to learn. It helped ease the shame I felt in telling my story. I've never been proud of what I'd become...an addict. But all truth be told, I'm probably as much an addict as I am a doctor. If Michael was going to love me, he would have to know and accept that part of me as well and love me in spite of it. Even if I never could accept that part of me. I continued explaining myself.

'That's why I loved medecine. It's clean, it's clear-cut. Right up untill the point where it gets messy. Where people died despite all the science, despite my best efforts. But I never learned how to deal with those emotions. So I numbed them...with the easiest thing available.'

'Morphine...' He added in a low voice.

'All my life has been devoid of real emotion. Either by my choice or distorted into exctasy by the morphine. When I started screwing up and my father found out, I went to rehab. I worked very hard to get my life back. To make sense of it. And I thought I had it figured out...untill you came along.'

I grabbed his hand and took it in both of mine.

'You were different from the start. You didn't belong in Fox River. I became interested in you. And then before I could stop it or numb the emotion...you had me feeling again. You frustrated me. You made me want to know more. Made me smile when I didn't want to, when I didn't think I could. I started caring about you.' I looked at our joined hands.

'But I also hurt you. I ruined your life. And I didn't even know I had untill that scumbag Bellick told me what happened to you. You could have been dead and I wouldn't have known...' He avoided my gaze, rubbing his fingers through his hair.

'You couldn't have known. I didn't want you to know...' I softly said feeling the burden of regret on his shoulders and of shame and anger on mine. He swallowed hard and looked up at me for a moment.

'Did you want to OD?' He looked away, like he was scared to know the answer.

'I don't remember exactly.' This was the moment of truth. I knew I had to tell him the truth, but I didn't know how he'd react. I felt my muscles stiffen and my breathing quicken. Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands, I started explaining. 'Leaving the door open was the right thing to do. I believed you, about Lincoln. I thought he was innocent. Helping an inncocent man escape from prison might still be against the law, but executing him for a crime he didn't commit is even worse. I don't think I really considered losing my job, facing criminal charges... '

My mind wandered off and got caught by the sight of his fingers resting loosely in his lap. I guided my hands towards his, needing the contact more than oxygen. Like he was holding me together, making it a little easier to breathe.

My fingers were studying his. Following the lines of his long, slim fingers up to his curvy wrists where I caught sight of his tattoo. The intricate work of art that had started this whole plan of genius. The sheer madness and determination of it evident in every detailed line, element and figure placed upon his naked body. Would this man ever be the same? Did these ink stained puzzles leave a mark imprinted on his soul forever? The night of the escape I had no idea of the scope of his plan, the real motive behind it, the true character of Michael Scofield. My mind was only beginning the process it all now. I let my thoughts drift back to the day he'd asked me to make a mistake...the day I had made many mistakes...

'I did a lot of contemplating that night and ... I realized that I did trust you. But I had never been so confused in my whole life, couldn't make sense of it. You touched my heart when I least expected it. You broke through my defenses, saw through me. No one had done that in a really long time. And then when you told me about the plan...everything came tumbling down and I didn't know what to believe anymore. Then I lost control. Didn't know what to do with all those contradictory feelings. Couldn't think anymore. Just wanted to numb to pain, ban the emotions. It's a conditioned respons. Once a junkie, always a junkie, I guess.'

I looked at him...there was pain in his eyes. Tenseness in his face. But he needed to hear the rest of it too. I pulled his face up so he was looking at me. Left my hand on purpose on his cheek. I wanted him to feel my words.

'Michael, I'm the one who injected that needle into my arm. That was my mistake, my choice. I was angry at you, hurt, betrayed. I felt used and I blamed myself. Maybe the hardest thing was never knowing what had been real. I really don't like to get attached to things if I know they won't last. I wanted you to last. I've felt alone all my life...I didn't want to feel alone again...knowing what I had done...knowing all the things that had happened... You left and I'd never felt so alone in my life.' My heart was pounding loudly in chest. I felt I needed to say these words but they scared the hell out of me at the same time. Letting Michael inside my fragile mind...it was both thrilling and incredibly frightful at the same time. We were both being vulnerable here. It was making me stronger, helping me to face the choices I'd made. I didn't make them in vain. I was here with this extraordinary man and despite how wrong our situation really was, it felt right.

'I'm so sorry. I hurt you so bad.' He was almost crying...

'You did. But I think I can understand now why you had to.' I still had many questions that needed answers but they could wait. I could let go of my anger, the pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together. Michael was in fact no ordinary man so he didn't do things ordinary. He did what he had to in the only strange way he knew how. The love he had for his brother was proof enough of what this man was really made off. The dept of their bond, though unspoken, went beyond law or regulation. They would stick up for each other for better or worse. And suddenly I realized that Michael would do the same for me...that he already had, like Lincoln said, risked a hell of a lot for me.

He shifted a bit closer to me, sadness evident in his features. But I thought I saw something else too: determination, focus, hope. When he spoke his voice cracked a bit but came out strong nonetheless.

'You weren't going to be alone. You became a part of 'my' plan, Sara. I left you the cranes on purpose. Wanting you to know that you weren't just a pawn I had to charm. I wanted to give you a way out, ... if you could understand me ...and forgive me.' In those words, I saw his his passion, as Lincoln described, come back to life.

'So there was a plan for me as well...quite the schemer you are' I smiled at him.

'Yeah, the plan to make amends and let you know how I felt was supposed to start right after the plan to break Lincoln out. I guess I miscalculated a little on both of those plans.' He smiled, but it was an ironic smile that didn't reach his eyes.

'Well, I didn't exactly help, did I?' I tried to lighten the mood.

'Can't exactly blame you for that one... after what you'd been through, what you had lost...running away to Panama with America's most wanted con who just happened to screw up your whole life, doesn't really sound that amazing, come to think of it.' He let out a sorrowful smile.

'Michael, I won't apologize for giving you a hard time when we met in Gila. I was angry...sometimes I still am. But I know you didn't mean for this to happen the way it turned out. I couldn't see the bigger picture then...or maybe I didn't want to. You hurt me like no one has hurt me before. And I was angry because I let you...' I sighed, frustrated. 'You're a hard man to figure out...I don't understand most of what's going on or how deep it goes. But I think I am beginning to understand –why- you started this plan. And if all else fails... you did get your brother out of prison. Gave him a chance at fighting back and clearing his name, getting his life back with his son, with you... That's something.'

I touched his hands again... 'And I'm here now...' My eyes locked with his, wanting to convey my honesty. '...in this thing, with you and not because I have to be to solve this ...because I want to be here, ...with you.' It was still hard to admit to myself, but the moment I said it, I felt a big chunk of the excess baggage slide off me and as I moved closer to Michael and let my lips slowly carress his for just a second...I drew back and watched a bit of the burden on his shoulders fall away too.

'Sara, it was real...' He whispered, like a plea.

'It was...I just couldn't believe it. But I'm listening to my heart now.' I pulled his hand up to cover my heart. I felt it beating against his palm. Such comfort. Such purpose. The world around me disappeared and I was left in this moment. All I could hear and feel was the beating of my heart against Michael's hand. I felt the blood rush to my face and felt as much as heard the flutter of my heartbeat go up. He was staring intently at his own hand on my heart and I started smiling. A smile that felt like a real smile, full of happiness. Michael looked up at me and smiled back at me. It reminded me off the smiles he sometimes used to give me in the infirmary. It had been real...it was real now. We were still sitting closely together on the bedcovers, smiling at each other, observering each other.

Before I had time to let my mind filter the idea, I slowly started pushing at Michael's arm and shifted myself further on the bed. I leaned back and he followed me untill we were both reclining on the bed. I needed to heal myself, to let myself feel what we just said...and I wanted to heal Michael, let him feel that I meant every word.