She looked at him in confusion, maybe a little anger too.
"Well?" She said, so he would answer, because if he didn't she swore she'd slam that door right in his face.
"I just-" He managed, his eyes on hers, before he suddenly seemed to realize what she was wearing –they both did– and squinted as his gaze lowered a little. She closed her fist on the opening of her bathrobe, securing it tightly around her, as he hastily looked away. Well, it looked like he was the king of clumsiness around her.
"Can I come in?" He asked, just a few seconds before she urged an answer out of him again.
"Uh – if you don't mind, I'd rather you tell me what this is about before." And ideally put on some clothes too.
"Right," He nodded, clearing his throat; he was getting his attitude back, "so, I spoke to my sister, you know my sister."
"Vividly."
"Right," He repeated in a nervous chuckle. She was not laughing, "so, anyway I was talking to her, and uh – we started talking about you-I asked how you were– I don't know, it just got me thinking and…"
Okay, that look on her face was not good, he had to back up, how could he had even come here without a plan? This whole idea was stupid, impulsive and stupid, impulses are stupid, they make you do stupid reckless things that are just – stupid. That made it four too many 'stupid's, he had to get out of here fast, just make up an excuse and go, come back when he'd be more prepared.
"Yes?" Sara said, her brow lifted expectantly.
He suddenly found himself getting this sort of sensation that's a lot like stage fright, his palms were feeling sweaty and the nervousness made him want to – wow, nervousness? He was not sure he'd ever even been nervous in his whole life, and now he was staying there, frozen on some girl's doorstep in complete lack of words while she looked at him in what was probably tremendous rage, but would probably still make fun of it once he'd gone. He had to save the deal.
He cleared his throat, this couldn't be this hard, for Christ's sakes he used to lie for a living.
"So, I was in the neighborhood," He started with nonchalance, and she gave him the "you gotta be kidding me" look. He ignored her and went on, "and I stopped by this beautiful baby shop, with that blue crib right up front, and it got me wondering if you'd gone baby-shopping yet."
He expected sarcastic, and he wasn't the least bit surprised by her tone.
"You were in the neighborhood," She repeated, to which he just nodded, smiling, ever so innocently.
"That is correct," He confirmed.
"And you saw a baby shop?"
"Right."
"Right," She repeated, "there are no baby shops in the neighborhood Paul"
A short silence set in.
"That is… also correct," He ultimately nodded, "what I meant was I saw this baby shop a few miles from here, then figured it'd be a long drive if you ever decided to do your shopping there, which made me wonder and then drive to your neighborhood."
"Oh, so you just happened to be in my neighborhood because you drove there?"
"Small world, isn't it?"
She looked at him in sheer incomprehension for a second, before she shook her head in disbelief.
"I'm sorry," She managed through her surprise, "are you here to annoy me?"
He waited, considered. Was it less embarrassing?
"Yes," He finally nodded, "yes, you could say that."
She looked at him, frozen in stun shortly before she let out a humorless laugh, "You know what, Paul? I would expect nothing less from you."
He smiled a bit, if he didn't want to appear like an idiot he didn't want to look like a complete jerk either.

"All right let's cut the crap." He said, with only intention to go straight to the point, "Yes, I've been talking to Kristine and yes, it got me thinking of – making amends." He confessed than pursed his lips at the calm look on her face, as though taking him seriously for the first time since he got there. She looked at him with consideration, he understood, at least for the first time since longer than he could remember she listened to him, could it be that she was finally ready for him to actually try? That's what he thought until he realized her seriousness was a scowl and she let out.

"You did not seriously just say 'crap' in front of my unborn baby."

He sort of knew it wouldn't be that easy, hoped, maybe a little bit, but no, that was Sara, and it was part why he cared about her too, that he actually tried to apologize to her and she'd only notice he spoke the C word in front of her fetus.
"I did," He admitted with a nod, only mocking her a little, "and I profoundly regret it, but also, I brought you something."

She arched a suspicious brow as he just handed her the little bag that had seemed to weight tons in the inside pocket of his coat for the last three minutes.
She looked down at it in half astonishment, half suspicion too.

"What is it?" She inquired hesitatingly.

And jeez, did she have to be this nervous? It came from a baby shop, what did she expect? A bomb shaped like a teddy bear?
"It's for the baby," He just said, "it's just the best thing I found in there, hope you don't already have one of these." He was not happy to see her indifference yet he had expected it would not be easy to have her accept a gift from him, hell, he was a little glad she didn't just threw it out the trashcan right there and then, not even waiting for him to be out the corner, but he found when she spoke that perhaps anger would have been better than for her to ask him one more time in this weary tone.
"Why are you doing this Paul?" She sighed out.
His brows furrowed at her question.
"You said your reasons were personal…" She added clarifying her words.
He understood she wasn't just asking why he'd bought a baby gift for her, or even why he'd sent her a doctor to make sure everything went down all right with the baby; she was asking for the real reason of his help to her, so he shut out, how could he answer her? He wasn't sure he could answer himself.

"Indeed they are, Sara, personal?" He spoke dryly, and suddenly he was mad, because she'd gotten him to wonder again why he was doing this, why couldn't she just accept his help? She needed it and instead of keeping her mouth shut and playing gratefulness she asked tons of questions and had millions of doubts. Why couldn't she just do what anyone else would do? Perhaps she wouldn't have intrigued him if she had.

"I'm sorry I can't answer that question for you," He went on, "personal things are supposed to be personal, that's why you don't share them."

It only took her a second to talk back.

"I thought it was never personal?" She posed, and she knew he wouldn't answer, she knew there was nothing he could answer and a small part of her was happy about it.

He gritted his teeth, his blue eyes glaring at her, not exactly with hate, but with passion, with a fire and an intensity she'd never seen in anyone else's eyes before; the icy blue of his gaze startlingly didn't feel cold but warm, hot, burning and ravaging.

"I thought so too," He answered, in his mind only.
She smiled mirthlessly, even though perhaps this war between them two didn't bring her any satisfaction anymore.

"You must feel really beaten up over your past dirty work to try so hard," She baffled him.

When he spoke to her, none of the passion in his eyes was audible, his intonations were perfectly controlled, and she could see his cooled tone and expression that, somehow painfully, reminded her of everything he was.
"With all due respect Sara, you don't know what you're talking about."

This fake carelessness, this pretended cold when his eyes burned in such a way – she'd heard that voice before.
"Don't I?" She replied instantly with a mixture of anger and vengeful satisfaction when she wondered what happened when the tables turned, when the player got played, "Let me tell you what I know. You got into politics because it suits you, because it's the only thing you've ever known."
He couldn't help the twitch of his lips in a hint of a smile, so she did follow his news that felt oddly refreshing.

She continued "You keep projecting this good side of you to people so they'd like you, you know exactly the right words to say and the right act to play, you know what people want and you give it to them because you know how to do it, because you lie and you do it damn well, so you play this role, you do your part but deep down, you and I both know you're still the same pragmatic, cold blooded man that could never be trusted."
He gulped hard with a sore fake smile, ouch, that hurt. Having her forgiveness was mission impossible now, let alone her trust. From what she just said, he had to admit, Sara Tancredi was so out of his league him standing here like a teenager trying to get a date with the most popular girl in school was a little miserable, "So if I were you," she went on, "I'd drop the 'making amends' attempt right away. It doesn't suit you. You'd exhaust yourself in vain."

That tone would have made anybody fold and give up on some girl, but Paul Kellerman was not just anybody and Sara Tancredi wasn't just some girl.
"It's worth a try now isn't it?" He replied calmly, masking every sign of emotion there could be in him, "I did join politics because it's all I'm familiar with, but believe it or not, that position I didn't choose for my own benefit."

He ignored her scoff.
"Like I said, you don't know what you're saying, want to know why?" He asked while she crossed her arms with slight upset, "You don't know a single thing about the real me…" he went on, "but just what I let you see in the past years."
He could see the discomfort in her eyes, a sort of backfiring emotion she wanted him to feel, maybe doubt? "And," He began dragging his word "if you weren't so hell bent on hating me, you could have seen something that's worth liking."
Sara observed the fleeting pain that only lapsed a second, disturbed by his explanation and sudden gesture of leaving the gift at the door with final words, so she didn't even have the time to blame him, to yell at him one last time telling him that it was his own damn fault if that's all she saw in him, that's what he'd made her saw, that's what he had decided, he had been the one playing that game not her; but she had played along.

He didn't leave her enough time to sort out her thoughts before he cut short their conversation, "Have a good day Sara."
His words came back to her again, replaying endlessly like a broken record, "if you weren't so hell bent on hating me, you could have seen something that's worth… liking"? What did he mean by that? Friendship, trust, courteously? How could he even think that – she stopped in her own inward tirade of hateful words, not because she didn't mean it anymore but because she was a little tired of it, of playing war, of hating him, she didn't like hate, it didn't suit her, she didn't like the painful discomfort it brought in her stomach; could someone actually get tired of hating somebody? But she couldn't do much about it, she couldn't stop the intensity of the feelings she had for him, he was right in a way, he didn't stand a chance, she just wouldn't let it happen, she wouldn't just accept his new friendship because he brought her a gift, and why would she, after everything he did, what did he expect? "Paul, how dare you come here after attempting to killing me – dear, is that for my baby? Fine, it's very generous of you, I won't mention your bad behavior from now on, but don't do it again." She could understand he was confident, but that confident? After all he did, did he just think he could walk here and things would be like they were when he was her friend? If that's what he ever was, and she knew people told her to move on, if not for him, for her, told her to reconsider, that he actually did more good than wrong to her, without forgetting his help with Scylla, and gosh she hated that people sounded so right, but above all she hated that everyone was miraculously on his side, that everyone seemed to have forgotten what he'd done wrong, just because he had done good things after that, but did right really erase wrong? It lighted the burden at most, did he really think that this was what it would take for him to make amends? And then, it hit her, crossed her mind, that maybe what people were trying to tell her was that, at least, he was trying.
Sara shook her head from the clinging idea fogging her mind; it didn't matter how he behaved with her now, what about all the lives he had taken, what about what was unforgiveable? If it's hard to forgive the wrong that has been done to you, it's possible, but you can't forgive the wrong that has been done to others, it's simply not yours to forgive.
She reluctantly picked up his gift and tossed it over the nearest table while closing her door. That was it; she refused to spend one more minute thinking about that man, it wasn't right. She hated him, or at least was trying to – and not to at the same time – letting him haunt her mind would bring him out winner again in a way, something she couldn't ever tolerate.

But for Christ's sake, he was in her past, why couldn't she just put him there? Forgive him, or not, but move on, because this? Him? It was eating her, was that what hate did, was that it? Was it even hate at all?

…

Finally at ease in some clothes now, Sara went out to the balcony, smelling the vanilla aroma that flew out of the dessert she held. Eating, another of her pregnancy's new routine had graduated into abundance this last month, a new craving that needed tending to. Relishing on every spoonful of it, she relaxed thoroughly only to nearly growl in frustration when the doorbell rang again. The one day she had chosen for herself appeared to be the moment that gave everyone the idea to visit her.
She went to answer the door anyway and greeted Sophia politely, feeling a little ashamed as she entered with grocery bags of the week. Having to count on Lincoln to bring her monthly food put Sara in uncomfortable moods more than once, no matter how much she insisted, Linc wouldn't take a penny from her.
"I have a nice surprise" Sophia's cheerful voice brought her out of her thoughts. "I have that famous recipe I told you about."
"Oh, the one of your grandmother's" Sara said, with half anticipation, recovering from the unexpected visit.

Sophia nodded "Yes. What do you say of giving it a try?"
A slow smile cracked on Sara's lips for the first time that day "I'd like that…I really need some normal girl time right now," she admitted.
The simple act of watching a movie, eating popcorn at three in the afternoon with Sophia made Sara feel home sick, and nostalgic of the days back when she was a doctor, before Michael even stepped foot in Fox River, days back then were peaceful. She was a recovered addict, saving lives, believing she could bring a change around her, days when she could enjoy such afternoons with friends withholding nothing that troubled her mind.
Today as she sat on that sofa, seven months pregnant, a current fugitive whose baby was fatherless she came to realize nothing would go back to normal because she was no longer able to connect to people around her. She received so much aid from everyone and still felt emotionally on her own. Devoid of any feeling of closeness to the family she had left, she hated to admit the closest thing to true human emotion she got was her confused anger, denied gratitude and hatred-like sting towards Kellerman, he was probably the only person left alive for whom she had feelings this strong, and it was disturbing in so many ways to imagine that, yet it appeased her that her friendship with his sister was also genuine, a sort of solace in what she was going through.
"God, your appetite's doubled," Sophia addressed her, causing her to take notice of the empty bowl she held "I'm going to get some more."
Sara stopped her half way to the kitchen claiming, "Oh don't bother, the movie's almost finished."
"Okay…" Sara watched her put the bowl on the little table near her, picking up the bag that Paul brought along.
Sophia smiled, saying "You got a present."
"If you can call it so," Sara mumbled, turning her eyes back to the TV screen "making amends present."
"What?" Sophia made her way back to the sofa, bringing the gift along, "From whom?"
"Paul Kellerman," Sara spoke stiffly. She could feel Sophia smiling without even casting a look and scoffed, "he passed by, peace offering. I didn't want it; but he still left it at my doorstep."
"He's really trying to make it up to you isn't he?" Sofia said and Sara turned to her now, a little annoyance clouding her face.

"I don't want anything coming from him," The young woman said.
"So you don't mind if I open it up," Sophia asked. Was this a trick to play on her emotions? Sara wondered. Why was everybody on his side for heaven's sake?
"You can have it for all I care," She mumbled in an attempt to hide her bugged mood, hell, she could even throw it away, burn it or cut it into tiny pieces, at least, if she didn't beat her to it. Why should she care after all, she didn't want his present, even if it was meant to be hers. Last thing she needed was a reminded of Paul clothing her son.
"Oh look, it's a snuggle cap and sack set." With only a flicker towards the material Sophia now held, Sara gulped at the unwelcome feeling of regret for not taking a closer look at the cute maroon colored clothing. It was not cute, she immediately ordered herself, how could she even picture her son in this? She would never make him wear something Paul Kellerman had bought, fathers were supposed to dress their children, not old enemies trying to make amends.

"How adorable," Sofia went on and Sara closed her eyes at the comment. That was everything but adorable, only strange that a dangerous man like Paul would be tempted to buy this cutest outfit for her son. It wasn't like him. An odd sensation of pain washed over her chest at the remembrance of what he claimed to be, a different person. And the worse thing was everyone seemed to be noticing it but her, could it actually be this simple? That she was too focused on what he once was to be able to see the big picture and acknowledged what he had become? Maybe she didn't know him well after all, but even so, why would he go through so much to try and prove it to her? Was everyone else in the secret as well or did they all find it pretty obvious too?

And there went that day where she wouldn't think of him for a single second.

….

The evening was going slow as she decided to go to bed. Getting up from the balcony chair, she inhaled deeply the fresh air one last time taking in the city view in front of her before entering her room. She closed her window, shutting the curtains to the blinding lights outside. This silence was all she had wished for all day, but had been glad to have Sophia's company and Lincoln's visit afterwards.
The sight of that baby sack in front of her now provoked a new reaction as she picked it up, running her thumb over the flannel. She shook her head with a glimpse of a smile.

"Paul Kellerman… you are way over your head if you think this is gonna cut it," Her voice came out humorous and gasped at the sudden kick to her stomach. She covered the area with a gentle caress of her hand, looking down at her round belly "are you on his side too?"

…

Kristine unlocked her apartment door slowly. Hanging her jacket, she flicked the lights on with her routine reflex; she froze this once at the voice asking her not to, it was too late. The lighted room showed her brother sitting with a beer in hand, blinking with a twisted face at the nagging light, his hand trying to cover his eyes

"Paul! You scared me half to death. It's two in the morning, what are you doing here?"
"I didn't know you worked so late… thought we'd have some quality time."
She rolled her eyes at him, noticing the slur of his words. She could tell he was nearly drunk by now, from the sight of the pack of empty cans around him.
"You've emptied my bar cabinet… you know I only gave you my key for emergencies." She chided him calmly, picking up the scattered mess he left.

"I only took the beers…scouts honor," He saluted dazedly.
She took a seat opposite him sighing deeply, eye shadows much apparent under her sleepy eyes, "Paul, what is this about?"
"I'll buy you a bottle tomorrow," He slurred, trying to get up only to sit back down at the signal of her threatening finger.

"Forget about the alcohol and start talking. You never get drunk, so there must be a damn good enough reason for it."

She was right, he didn't like to be drunk, he liked to have control over people, over everyone, so he especially didn't appreciate not having control over himself.
"I just felt stupid-did a stupid thing you know? I thought this would erase the memory." He mumbled uneasily.
"Is this about Sara again? Paul!" Her tone let her exasperation appear.

He didn't even think of denying this time.
"I got her a thing from the baby store…" He took in her surprise than added ashamedly, "stupid right?"
"No…" She spoke softly, "that was considerate of you…I guess she didn't react as you wished her to."
"Sure did as I expected her to." He fell silent as Kristine approached him and kneeled next to him "I'm sorry she's giving you such a hard time…deep down she's very kind."
"Yeah… I am only trying to make it up to her K, that's all that is, she won't even let me try, how am I supposed to do it if she won't let me try? I don't know, you have an idea? Because playing dad-to-be with her clearly isn't doing it. You know what the hell, after all, who even cares, right? I'll just pay a visit to someone else I damaged and try with them, hope I'll have better luck, if not, I'll still have about a hundred other people to visit so I guess I'll be good." He lowered his eyes as a lazy smile formed on her face when she answered him.

"It's remarkable how much alcohol makes of you a lousy liar… you're a little sensitive"
"You take that back-terrible misjudgment," He told her incomprehensibly as she helped him up, laughing a little at his words, "this is not about Sara," he went on, "this is about me changing."

"Sort of about Sara too."

"I'll remember this in the morning," He finished.
"First you'll need to crash." She led him to her guest room and let him fall on the bed, closing the door for him to rest for the night, and he dreamt of another life, where he'd never met her until today, running into each other in the baby shop, or maybe if he's mind allowed the thought to go even further he could imagine he had Michael's place in her heart, the place no one would ever have again in reality, but he could dream of it, dream that it was his baby inside of her, a sign of their hypothetical happiness and love, instead of the constant reminder that she would always belong to someone else.