Hello friends! Hopefully wherever you are is nicer than where I am, because it's been raining for three days straight here. However, I'm using that to my advantage and finally seeing "The Great Gatsby" today, so it's not all bad :P I hope you're enjoying "As It Seems" so far. We're about four chapters away from the end. :( Thank you for your reviews and, as always, constructive criticism is greatly welcomed and appreciated!
Ten
The Raleigh, North Carolina bus stop is labeled Capital Area Transit and it's pretty nice inside, Sara notices, as she ambles through the crowd of travelers in search of the women's restroom. She knows she's attracting stares; why wouldn't she? Her grey shirt is spattered with blood, she's sweaty and out of breath and she looks like an extra out of one of the Scream movies. She nods politely at everyone who double glances at her, feeling like a con on the run again, and finally sees the bathroom, making a beeline for it. The restroom is empty except for a mother and her infant at the changing table in the corner and Sara's heart gives a tug, more than likely remembering her own children were still out there somewhere.
The sinks are those annoying automatic ones, so she has to keep continuous contact with the water flow in order to scrub the blood from her hands and arms. She's shaking; her hands are splashing water unintentionally all over the counter as she attempts to clean them. In an instant she's reminded of her time in Panama, drenched with Michelle Taylor's blood- it's so much worse now that she knows her name- and trembling, weak and decimated, towards the door, not sure what she'd find on the other side. The gleaming Panamanian sun had burned her retinas; she'd been accustomed only to the darkness for the previous three weeks. She ran and she ran until she could no longer take a step. She'd called Bruce and he'd immediately sprung for a plane ticket back to the U.S., a bus ticket back to Chicago.
When he'd picked her up at the station, she was still covered in blood, both Michelle's and her own. The open wounds on her back were aching and oozing with pain and Bruce had immediately sent her for medical treatment. But Sara was numb; she didn't feel the pain, neither physical nor psychological, anymore. Gretchen had told her Michael had died in Sona and that was the only thing she needed to know. Bruce had asked her why she was so despondent, why she refused to take care of herself, why she screamed and cried and thrashed in her sleep, but Sara could not answer. If she spoke the words aloud, then she'd have to acknowledge that Michael was never coming back to her and she wasn't sure she could ever physically do that.
But then Bruce had come to her with the startling, miraculous news that not only was Michael still alive, but he was there, in Chicago, looking for her. He was in trouble, but Bruce had told her he'd take care of it; she'd paced the floor of his living room and watched as his sleek town car had pulled into the driveway, a frustrated, irritated and impatient Michael had gotten out. Her breath had caught in her throat; he trudged up the walkway, through the door and rounded the corner before all the past emotions she'd read, all the angst, confusion and guilt, had faded away. He'd stared at her as if he was seeing a ghost and perhaps he felt he was; they'd told her he was dead, so she could only imagine what they'd told him. Overwhelmed by relief and by each other's presence, they'd moved toward each other slowly, cautiously, as if the other would disappear if they touched.
He still smelled the same; it was the first thing she noticed when she was engulfed into his arms and she would have laughed at this recognition if she could do anything else but hold onto him and cry. She hadn't allowed herself to feel, before; suppress it, pretend it didn't happen, make believe it's all okay. Something about him, however, had made her feel everything all at once; she was broken and knew he was broken, too. They had spent the rest of the night in constant physical contact, not leaving the other's sight for a second. They had talked and kissed and cried and made love; they avoided bringing up Panama at all costs. They had almost lost their lives and were on the run again before they could get a proper night's sleep, but that was nothing new. That was their life, back then.
She shakes her head of these thoughts, rubbing her skin raw and taking extra care to get her wedding band to sparkle and shine again. Splashing some water on her face, Sara takes a moment to let the cool water fill her pores and calm her nerves, trying to relax and to not let the stress of the current situation get to her. It's okay; she is okay. She's going to clean the blood off her face- there isn't much she can do about the shirt- and then she is going to walk out of the bathroom and ask a kind stranger for money for the payphone. She needs to get ahold of both Michael and Sofia; she just hopes there will be someone there willing to offer her a little help in her time of need.
Her face no longer looks like the scene of a crime, so she's taking this as a small victory. She's much less sweaty and worn-out looking than before, so she takes a few paper towels, wipes down her face and arms and draws in another deep breath. The mother with the infant eyes her warily and Sara shoots her a smile before turning and exiting the bathroom. She'd ask her for the dollar in quarters, but she's sure her bloodied, sweaty presence has given the woman enough anguish for one day. Instead, she glances around at the crowd of people incoming from a bus that had just arrived in from Fayetteville and hopes someone will be her saving grace.
The bus from Fayetteville arrives at the Raleigh Capital Area Transit a little before four o'clock in the afternoon. Kellerman's plan is to take out the two Company operatives they know are in Raleigh first and then head to Durham to do the same. Michael honestly couldn't care less about the Raleigh operatives; he'd learned a day earlier that his family is in Durham and that's where his mind is. Distracted and anxious, he follows the rest of the group off the bus and into the station, where they find a cluster of tables to sit and discuss their plans. Alex insists Kellerman should not be a part of the heist, considering he'd killed the last three men when he should have simply arrested them and the rest of the group agrees. Lincoln glances over at his visibly agitated brother and claps him on the back.
"They're going to be alright, man," He assures. "We'll find them."
"But what if they're not?" Michael asks, feeling like that child afraid of monsters in his closet all over again. "I sent them away because I wanted them to be safe… What if I sent them to their deaths?"
"Don't think like that," Lincoln scolds. "You did the right thing. I'll bet you they're safe and I'll bet you The Company's just doing this to get a rouse out of you."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Yeah, I think I just saw it," Alex says next, gesticulating towards the ticket counter. "Call me crazy, but that wouldn't happen to be Sara, would it?"
"If it's not, she's got a twin," Sucre confirms. "Someone who looks frighteningly similar to her."
Without further hesitation, Michael approaches her; it feels as though he can breathe again, as if a weight's been lifted from his chest, just at the sight of her. Sara's asking a stranger, a kind-looking woman in her early fifties, for some spare change for the payphone. The woman obliges, fishes a dollar in quarters out of her wallet, and wishes Sara good luck in reaching her family. Sara thanks the woman a thousand times over, turns and comes face to face with Michael. He can't believe it's her, can't believe she's here; her eyes widen in shock and this tells him she feels the very same way. "Sara?"
"Michael?" She gasps, before closing the distance between them and throwing her arms around him. "Michael!"
He's hugging her just as tightly, shielding her in a protective embrace, as his eyes close in relief. She's okay, she's okay, she's okay; he keeps repeating over and over in his mind, still unable to believe it. Considering what The Company had done- and had attempted to do- in the past, this is a major victory. It's his fault; he should've never sent her to C-Note's house, should've never separated himself from her, should've never put her in harm's way. She had been right, but then again she was almost always right; only the intense relief of once again holding her in his arms overpowers the guilt he feels. He had worried himself sick; he had missed her, longed for her, ached for her. But she's here; she's okay. And he'd never make an idiotic decision like sending her off ever again.
Sara is clinging to Michael as if they'd been separated for years as opposed to the week, week and a half, it had really been. Tears burn and cloud her vision, but she squeezes her eyes shut, determined not to let them fall. She can't; not here, not now. Instead, she focuses on everything's she's missed this past week and a half. His arms, tight and comforting, around her torso. His voice, low and sweet, whispering how sorry he is, how much he's missed her, how much he loves her. His eyes, cool and piercing and blue (Just like Zoe's, she thinks, and it pains her a little), staring deep into hers before he's kissing her, warm and passionate and loving. Ah, yes, his lips; she's missed them, too.
"How are you here right now?" She asks when they pull away.
"We just arrived on a bus from Fayetteville; couldn't get a flight to Raleigh," He answers, his hands still in her hair. "We hadn't heard from you in days. Kellerman said there were operatives here, too."
"There are," Sara confirms. "They attacked Benjamin's house. They killed him, Michael."
"I know," He frowns. "I know."
She glances down, feeling just as guilty, and it's only then that Michael notices her t-shirt is spattered with blood. His heart races again and he feels sick when asks, "Sara, where are the kids?"
Tears spill down her cheeks and this time, she doesn't try to stop them. Misreading this, Michael demands, "Whose blood is this?"
She shakes her head, tears still falling, and his hands come to brace her elbows. "It's not theirs. It's not mine, either. This Company agent… He…"
Unable to bring herself to say it, Sara trails off. Michael says, "Oh thank God. Where are they?"
"I don't know," She cries. "The agents I was with said they were in Durham. But they could be anywhere. I don't know where they are. I don't know what to do. I don't-"
"Hey, hey, we're going to find them, alright?" He assures her. "We'll leave right now. We're going to find them and they're going to be alright. Okay?"
"Yeah," She nods, wiping the tears from her cheeks and smiling slightly at him.
He returns it. "Okay. Come on."
They head back to the table where the rest of the group sits hand in hand. Lincoln is talking away on the cell phone, smiling as if he's won the lottery, and Michael wishes they could all be this happy. Alex is copying something down onto a piece of loose leaf paper from the system Sucre is reading to him and Kellerman is looking as impatient with the rest of them as ever. The others greet Sara warmly, express their relief that she's okay, and she thanks them, sitting in an unoccupied chair beside Fernando. Once again, she and Michael are in constant physical contact; he sits beside her but doesn't let go of her hand.
"Sara and I are going to Durham."
"You most certainly are not," Kellerman disagrees. "Let's focus on one task at a time, please?"
"They have Noah and Zoe," Michael says plainly. "Right now, that's all I'm focused on."
"We have two operatives to deal with in Raleigh before we move on to Durham, Michael."
"One," Sara clarifies. "You only have one, now."
"What are you talking about?" Kellerman asks, alarmed.
"One of the operatives; Murphy, his name was. He's dead." Sara states. "He killed himself right in front of me."
They all cringe and Sucre utters, "Holy shit."
"Yeah, well," Sara shrugs, feigning non-importance. "It wasn't the first time I've seen someone die."
"O-okay," Kellerman eyes her strangely. "So, one Company operative in Raleigh. It'll be over in a matter of seconds. We're taking her down first and then you can go to Durham."
"No," Michael disagrees adamantly. "We're not waiting any longer while some bastards out there have our children. We're leaving. End of story."
As Kellerman once again protests, Lincoln pulls the phone away from his ear and joins the conversation. "Wait, what did you just say?"
"They have our kids," Michael frowns. "They have our children, Linc."
Oddly, Lincoln grins, shaking his head and handing him the phone. "No, they don't. Not anymore."
He takes the cell phone from his brother and presses the speaker function, holding it between himself and Sara. "Hello?"
"Michael? It's Sofia. Linc tells me you found Sara?!"
"Yeah, I'm here," Sara says, truly relieved Sofia is safe from harm. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine; are you alright? LJ and I have been worried sick about you for days! We came back and the place was a crime scene and you and the kids were gone and we didn't know what to do or where to go. Fue un desastre!"
"I'm okay," Sara informs her. "Just terrified about the kids. We're heading to Durham, now, to look for them."
"Sara, honey, I have your kids."
She and Michael stare at the phone and at each other in shock. He asks, "You… You have the kids?"
"Yeah. LJ and I have been looking for them for days. We just found them this morning at a Whole Foods in Durham."
"I don't," Sara's shaking her head in disbelief. "I don't understand."
"How did you find them?" Michael asks.
"Pure dumb luck, I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Here, I'll put it on speaker. Hold on."
There's some shuffling on the other end before a tiny voice asks, "Mommy? Daddy?"
"Zoe," Sara says simply, her eyes once again filling with tears.
"Zo-Zo," Michael grins. "Are you okay?"
"It's really you! Noah, come here! It's Mommy and Daddy!"
A second voice questions, "Mom? Dad? Are you really there?"
"Yes, Noah, yes! It's really us!" Sara confirms. "Are you okay? Is Zoe okay?"
"We're okay. Are you guys okay?"
"We are," Michael confirms. "What happened to you? Are you hurt?"
"No one hurt us. A guy brought us to a hotel and gave us yucky pretzels and cold pizza."
"They kept us in a tiny closet in the dark. They never even talked to us."
"Zoe was scared."
"No I wasn't! You were, too, Noah!"
"Nah uh, I was brave."
"No!"
"Yes!"
The sound of their children arguing is music to Michael and Sara's ears. "So nobody hurt you?"
"No, they didn't even do anything."
"Yeah, they were kind of nice. Well, not that nice, actually."
Their parents chuckle. Sara asks, "So where are you guys now?"
"At a hotel. We're going to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner!"
Sofia cuts in, "If that's alright with you two. I figured they could use some fun after the couple of days they've had."
"By all means," Sara agrees. "Have fun."
"Where are you, anyway?"
"We're in Disney World," Michael teases. "We're having dinner with Mickey Mouse right now."
"No way! That's not fair!"
"Daddy you promised! I wanna meet Mickey and all the princesses!"
"Can you see the castle? Is it big? Which room does Cinderella sleep in?"
"Tell Minnie I said hi, meany. You promised!"
Michael laughs and Sara rolls her eyes. "Guys, I'm joking. We're in North Carolina, just like you."
"That's not funny!"
"Can we see you guys? Can we go home now?"
"We'll be seeing you really soon, I promise," Sara tells them. "And unlike Daddy, I'm not joking."
"Tell you what," Michael says. "We have a little bit more we have to do here, first. But then in a few days, Mommy and I will come and pick you guys up. We'll go home, we'll pack, and then we'll really go to Disney World."
"Really? Yay! Disney World, here I come!"
"Yay! We're going to Disney World! I get to meet all the princesses!"
"Dad? Can we bring Emily, too?"
This stops Michael in his tracks. "Who's Emily, Noah?"
"Emily was with us in the closet. She helped us run away."
At this, Michael and Sara share a glance and look up to find the rest of the table just as dumbfounded. "I'm not sure, buddy."
LJ takes the phone, then, and says in a hushed whisper, "Uncle Mike, The Company kidnapped Emily, too. And the reason they wanted her… is because she's Gretchen's daughter."
This shocks the entire table. Lincoln calls, "Are you sure?"
"She looks exactly like her and her last name's Morgan. What do you think that means?"
"Thank you," Michael says. "Thanks for clearing that up. We'll, uh… We'll figure out what that means."
They finish their conversation by telling their children how much they love and miss them and that they really will see them as soon as possible. Kellerman then states, "I really am sorry for what they're doing to your family and I'm glad your kids are safe."
"Yeah, I'm sure you are." Michael frowns at him. He stands and the others follow suit. "Are we ready to get out of here?"
"More than," Alex agrees as the group files toward the door.
Kellerman is the last to gather his things, the others filtering out before him. He manages to get his things together soon enough to snag Sara as she goes to leave. "Hey Sara, you have a second?"
Michael eyes him warily and Sara lays a hand on his arm, saying, "Go. I'll catch up."
He nods, but not before giving Kellerman another menacing look. She waits for him to get far enough out of earshot before asking, "What's going on?"
"Look Sara, I just want to apologize," He says honestly. "I really am sorry."
"You already said that."
"No, not just about the kids," Kellerman shakes his head. "About before. About Lance and blueberry pie and what happened in New Mexico. I'm really, really sorry."
Sara glances down at the floor. "You were just following orders. It could have been anybody."
"But it wasn't. It was you," Kellerman says. "And you've been through enough. I was following orders even though I knew what I was doing was wrong. I thought The Company would eventually make it right, but they didn't and they couldn't. It just kept getting worse. So… I'm sorry. I know it's not enough, but I'm sorry. I truly am."
"I know," Sara states. "I forgive you, Paul. I honestly do."
Kellerman nods and then glances toward the door. "Michael doesn't."
"And Michael won't," Sara says. "So I wouldn't count on it, if I were you."
"Don't worry," Kellerman chuckles. "I'm not holding my breath."