Sometime between four and five o'clock in the morning, Michael, Sucre, and Sara stopped at a motel. Sara, being the least likely to be recognized, went in and got two rooms, which they all immediately entered. Sucre and Michael went into one and Sara into the other. Michael, however, quickly went to go talk to the doctor when Sucre said something about taking a shower.

Michael knocked on her door, keeping his head ducked so he wouldn't be recognized if someone came out of their room right then. "What?" Sara called, from inside.

"It's me." Michael replied. A moment later, the door opened.

"What do you need?" Sara asked.

"Can I come in?"

Sara hesitated, before opening the door wide enough to allow him to enter. She closed it behind him. "Michael, I don't know if-"

"I just want to talk, Sara." Michael said. "I think we need to." He paused, allowing Sara to nod. "We definitely didn't get a chance to last time, and I don't think you've forgiven me entirely yet." She shook her head. "So, let's talk."

Sara crossed her arms. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Whatever you want to talk about."

Sara was silent for a moment, thinking. "In the infirmary, why did you ask me to leave the door open?" She asked finally.

Michael nodded faintly, as though he'd been expecting this, and sat down on the corner of the bed. "I didn't want to lie to you again."

"So you just used me instead."

"I didn't want to, Sara. I told you, I hated it. I couldn't bring myself to lie to you again; I didn't want to hurt you. So I told you the truth." Michael paused, looking down at his feet. "I think that ended up hurting you more, though."

"Do you know that I face thirty years for accessory?" Sara asked suddenly.

"Yes."

"I'm guilty of it too, Michael."

"I know. But we can make it better. There's this conspiracy, they have control of the government. I know how to expose them, and then all this will go away." He explained, certainly.

"I don't care, Michael! I don't care about conspiracies. I thought we had something, Michael. When you called, you told me it was real. If you were telling the truth, then I just don't understand how you could do this to me." Sara said, gesturing wildly.

Michael was silent for a moment. "This wasn't supposed to happen!" He snapped suddenly.

"What wasn't supposed to happen?"

"You! You weren't supposed to be you." Michael replied heatedly, running a hand over his head.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Michael looked up at her now. "I plotted the escape for months before I was arrested. I knew everything about every employee at Fox River, including you. I knew all about you. You were essential. I was going to use you to gain access to the infirmary, to escape. But you weren't supposed to be…."

"What wasn't I supposed to be?"

"You weren't supposed to be wonderful." Michael answered softly, standing. "Damn it! I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you!" He exclaimed, now pacing quickly back and forth across the room.

"You love me?"

"Yes." Michael stopped, facing a wall. "They say absence makes the heart grow fonder; it's true. When we were apart, Sara, not a day went by that I didn't think about you, or regret what happened. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see your face! Every time I breathed, it physically hurt me because I wasn't with you, and I knew that I had screwed things up so badly between us."

"Michael-"

Michael turned around. "It's terrible, Sara, but I was so incredibly happy when you said that the federal agent prevented you from coming back." He walked over closer to the doctor. "I don't know what he did to you, but all I know is that you didn't leave me because you wanted to." Michael lowered his voice to a whisper now. "Right now, I can barely think straight, because I love you so much that just being around you is intoxicating."

Sara looked up at him for a moment, eyes searching his face for some hint as to how she was supposed to react. She certainly didn't know. On the one hand, Sara was mad at him for everything he had done; for lying to her, for using her, for making her overdose. But at the same time, Sara cared just as much about him as he cared for her. Their time apart had hurt her every bit as badly as it had hurt him.

Sara stepped forwards carefully, and placed her hands lightly on his shoulders. His eyes silently questioned her, asking her if she was sure this was what she wanted. Her own eyes shut gracefully as their lips met. After a few seconds, Michael wrapped his arms around her and began to kiss her back.

They kissed passionately for several minutes, scarcely pausing even for air. "Michael?"

"Mmm?" Came the muffled reply.

"I love you too." Sara said softly. Michael froze, and tilted his head so he could see her face clearly.

"Thank you." Michael murmured.

"For what?" Sara asked, staring up at him.

"For giving me a chance." Michael replied, stooping down to kiss her again. Sara smiled faintly, before beginning to pull at Michael's shirt. When she had gotten it off, Michael lifted hers carefully over her head. Both of them would have liked to truly savor this, and they were going quicker than either of them would have liked for their first time, but Michael and Sara knew their time was limited for now.

"Sara? What happened to your arm?" Michael asked, referring to the stitches on her arm.

"Later." Was the reply. "Don't ask about the bruises, either." She added. Michael couldn't see any other marks besides the one on her arm; it was too dark in the room.

Suddenly the door to the hotel room swung open. "Woah, sorry!" Sucre exclaimed, shutting the door as quickly as he could. Sara and Michael broke apart now, staring at the door.

"Did he just…."

"Yeah." Michael answered. "Sara, we shouldn't do this now."

"No."

"The mood is, uh, kind of ruined now."

"Yeah." A pause. "I think I'm just going to go to sleep."

"Okay."

"Good night."

"Good night Sara." Michael turned and headed towards the door. "Sara? I love you."

"I love you too." She called after him, as he shut the door.

Michael burst into his and Sucre's room. "What the hell have I ever done to you?" Michael snapped at Fernando.

Sucre held his hands up defensively. "Our shower ain't working." Sucre replied. "Plus, you said you were just going to talk to her. You and I must have very different definitions of talking, 'cause that didn't look like a conversation to me."

Michael massaged his forehead with his fingers, irritated with himself. He knew it wasn't really Sucre's fault. In fact, he should probably be thanking his former cell mate for coming in when he did. Michael knew Sara deserved better than this. And there was the small fact that Michael was pretty sure that Sara still had some angst to get out of her system before their relationship could be stable again. He sighed. This wasn't going at all like he planned.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Kate cleaned up Lincoln's cut, they had continued to drive away from Berino, taking turns driving until both of them were too exhausted to continue. They eventually stopped near a small, abandoned house, and slept for a few short hours. When they started moving again, the sun was rising. Kate and Lincoln had each made a few desperate attempts at conversation, about neutral topics such as the weather, which all ultimately failed, leaving them in silence. They stopped briefly once for lunch, and at eleven at night when again, they were both too weary to drive safely any more.

After driving for about an hour, Lincoln cleared his throat. Following a day of silence, the noise startled Kate a little. She glanced at him, before looking back out the window.

"I have a cell waiting for me back at Fox River if I want quiet." Lincoln began, shifting his hands on the wheel. "So please. I don't care what you talk about, but please, talk." He begged.

Kate arched an eyebrow. This certainly was unexpected. "What do you want to talk about?" She asked.

"Anything."

She thought for a moment. "How did you break out of prison?" She asked finally.

Lincoln looked over at her briefly. "Er... I'd rather not talk about that." He said, uncomfortable with the thought of explaining the details of their escape to her then. Lincoln cast about silently for a conversation topic not involving him or Michael. "Okay, why did you want to be a doctor?"

Kate stared out the window. "When I was six, my dad died. He had an aortic aneurysm-a bubble attached to a major artery- and it burst and he bled to death internally within a few minutes. We didn't know about the aneurysm before it burst, but that's not unusual. My mom was devastated. She started smoking again-she'd quit when she had me. She has advanced lung cancer now, and is in hospice care." She spoke in a voice that portrayed her past in a factual, cold way that did not invite sympathy. "Mom was never the same after Dad died. I decided then that I wanted to help spare people that kind of pain, so I decided to be a doctor."

"Where'd you go to school?" Lincoln prompted, not wanting the conversation to stop now that it had begun.

"University of New Mexico, then Harvard Med School." Kate replied nonchalantly. "I was second in my class at Harvard." She added casually, as though it was unimportant.

Lincoln sent her a confused look. "So how does one of Harvard's top students end up in some hospital in the middle of nowhere?" He asked. "Minan-Hatford isn't exactly famous for its health care."

"My mom lives there. Like I said, she's in hospice care. We found out that her cancer returned right after I took my medical exams, and we knew it was serious, so I chose a program close to her." Kate answered. She shrugged. "She's dying, so I wanted to be there."

Lincoln was silent for a moment, digesting this. "She could die while you're with us?" He asked. Kate nodded in response, still staring at the landscape that was passing by; Lincoln suspected that she was fighting tears, despite her casual manner. Suddenly he didn't want to make her talk any more. Lincoln felt bad enough now about keeping her from her dying mother without forcing her to do stuff she didn't want to.

"You and that other man… Michael? Are you two brothers?" Kate asked a few minutes later.

Lincoln glanced over at her, surprised. Apparently the doctor wanted conversation also. "Yeah."

"You don't look a lot alike."

"I guess not."

"What did you do for a living? Before jail?" Kate asked.

"Michael was an architect." Lincoln replied.

"I didn't mean Michael." Kate said, grinning slightly. "I meant you. What did you do?"

"I… did a lot of stuff, most of it bad."

"Like what?"

Lincoln saw out of the corner of his eye that she was facing him now, seeming genuinely interested. He sighed. "I borrowed ninety grand years ago. I pretty much did anything that paid, legal or not, to try to pay it back."

"What were the ninety thousand dollars for?"

"For Michael. Our mom died, and our dad wasn't there…" Lincoln trailed off momentarily, thinking about the shabby grave by the side of the road where they had buried their father just four days ago. "He was always the brains, I was always the muscles. I wanted to give him a chance to go to school."

Kate arched an eyebrow, surprised. She'd figured that the money had been for drugs or something. "That was nice of you."

Lincoln shrugged. "Until he got me out of prison, I figured I'd never have to buy him a birthday present again."

Kate laughed unexpectedly. Lincoln looked at her, before grinning and chuckling a little himself.

At around two, Michael, Sara, and Sucre stopped at a rest station. They'd been driving pretty much all day, and needed a chance to stretch their legs. "I'll be back." Sucre announced, going to find a payphone, probably to call Maricruz.

"Should we... talk?" Michael asked Sara a moment later.

Sara frowned at her reflection in the car window. "I don't know." She said finally.

"I know last night was, uh, hard." Michael said. "But we almost-"

"I know what we almost did."

"I don't want to disappoint you, Sara." He admitted. "I don't want to say I'll be here, and not be able to follow through."

She looked up at him. "I'm not worried about that. I just want you to be honest with me."

"I can be honest." Michael vowed, stepping closer to her and taking her hands in his.

"Are you sure?" Sara asked. Michael nodded. "Is there anything I need to know, then?"

"Well, I was never in love with Nika."

"Oh?"

"No. She needed citizenship, and I needed a favor for getting out."

"Oh."

Michael nodded.

"Anything else?"

Michael was silent for a moment, wracking his mind for anything else that could potentially screw up their relationship. "Not- wait, no, there is one more thing." He paused, waiting for Sara to nod for him to continue. "Did your father leave you something? Anything that maybe he didn't want people to find?"

Sara's eyes narrowed, and Michael's stomach sank as he realized that he had definitely said the wrong thing. "That's what 'Not Lance' wanted to know." She said sharply.

"Who's 'Not Lance'?"

Sara waved off his question. "Is that all anybody needs me for? Is that what last night was? Just some attempt to get whatever the hell my father may have given me?"

"No, Sara, of course not!" Michael realized he had raised his voice slightly, and lowered it. "I love you, Sara. Your father had something, something that could expose the Company, which framed Lincoln, and led to all of this. If we expose them, everything goes back to normal." Sara stared doubtfully up at him. "Sara, I promise you, I wasn't lying to you when I said I love you, I wasn't trying to get something from you."

She sighed. "Here comes Sucre. We should get moving again."

"Sara?" Michael said, holding on to her hand. She turned and looked back at him. "I'm sorry for what this has done." He said, gaze piercing.

"I love you Michael. Just please, please don't mess this up. I can't take that."

"I know." Michael and Sara got back into the car, and were followed by Sucre momentarily, who was humming happily.

"You got a boyfriend?" Lincoln asked, a few hours after their discussion had begun. They'd talked nonstop since then, which Lincoln found to be a refreshing chage.

"A fiancé." Kate replied, shrugging.

Lincoln looked at her left hand, and was surprised to see it was bare. "Where's your ring?"

"I never wear it at the hospital. Too many opportunities for it to get lost."

"Oh." Lincoln was silent for a moment. This conversation had taken an awkward turn, as far as he was concerned. "When's the wedding?" Kate shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but didn't answer. "Come on. It's not like I'm going to be there or anything. What's the date?"

"We don't have one yet."

"How long have you two been engaged?" Kate mumbled something inaudible. "Yeah, I couldn't hear that."

"Seven months." She repeated, staring straight ahead.

Lincoln laughed softly. "You've been engaged seven months and haven't set a date? I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that means that something's wrong in your relationship."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lincoln looked at her as he said this. She was looking out the window again. "Look, do you love him?" She shrugged. "Come on, it's a yes or no question. Either you do or you don't."

"I don't know." Kate replied, sounding thoughtful. Lincoln thought briefly that it was a little strange that she didn't object to his examination of her personal life, given that he had kidnapped her, but he wasn't about to comment on it. Anything to keep the conversation rolling.

"How can you not know?" He asked.

"I just… I don't know. I always thought that I would, you know? In every movie, they just know somehow that they're absolutely in love with the other person. Like in the fairy tales, the happily ever after kind of love, love that could overcome time, distance, or anything. I just… that's not what I feel." Kate finished, somewhat lamely, seeming almost self-conscious about what she just said.

"I don't think you love him, then. When I was with Veronica-" Lincoln cut off abruptly, as he memories of Veronica came flooding back, and he felt as though he'd just been hit in the stomach.

Kate carefully placed a hand on his forearm, where it laid on his armrest. "Are you okay?" She asked.

He turned to her, and was surprised by the concern that was so evident in her eyes. "Yeah. Sort of." He replied, turning back to the road. "She's just a former girlfriend of mine."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Again, an awkward silence. "Why are you going to marry him if you don't love him?"

Kate thought for a moment before replying. "He treats me right. He's a firefighter, so he understands long hours." She said, reverting back to the detached voice she'd used earlier, when describing her childhood. "He lives in Minan-Hatford. I think he loves me."

"Doesn't that bother you? Knowing he loves you, and you don't feel the same way?"

"I do like him." Kate responded. "Just not love."

"Ah. If you met someone you loved, would you leave your fiancé?"

"Where am I going to meet someone, Lincoln?" She asked, in a tone that suggested she wanted to laugh again. "Everyone I know in Minan-Hatford is already settled down, or not worth settling down with."

"So leave."

"And go where?"

"I don't know. I'm sure someone with a Harvard background could find something."

"But my mom's here. Or, there, rather. I have an apartment, friends, a life there. Plus, Adam's not bad. That's his name, Adam. I just don't love him."

"You sound like you've thought this out."

"I have." Kate said. "I have this same argument with myself all the time." With that, a silence fell over the two of them. Kate was pondering her life, and so was Lincoln. He didn't think for a second that she was happy in Minan-Hatford with Adam, but Lincoln agreed with her reasons for staying. Ordinarily, he wouldn't care how she spent her life; it was, after all, her choice. But something about the doctor interested him. Lincoln thought back to two days ago, when she cleaned his cut, and the fluttery feeling. At the time, he'd considered it a bad thing, but now, it gave him hope that maybe, when this was all over, maybe he could have a somewhat normal life. If he could be attracted to somebody he barely knew, then there was hope that he could move past everything that had happened to him in the past three years.