Hello again! The rain has finally stopped- hurray! And also, "The Great Gatsby" was amazing. The acting was brilliant, the cinematography was beautiful and I was just, overall, incredibly happy with it, considering it's one of my favorite books. If you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend it... After you read this, of course. ;) Thank you for your wonderful responses! It always makes me happy to see a few reviews in my inbox! Enjoy this chapter!

Eleven

They pile into the van Sucre's obtained- whether he's done so legally or illegally is still in question- and drive towards the hotel they've decided to overnight in. Once there, they discuss the possibility of taking Stacy down in one fluid motion that evening. They decide only a few of them need to go; it won't take six people to take down one woman, no matter how powerful she is. Alex and Lincoln volunteer, anxious to get something done, and ask Sara to describe where she was being held. She does so to the best of her ability, but tells them she was knocked unconscious on the ride over and running like hell on the way out. They head off with well wishes from the rest of the group and Sara is honestly just itching to get into the shower; she's sure she smells like a barn.

She and Michael were granted their own room across the hall, mostly because Lincoln had loudly claimed he wanted to be far, far away from the reunited lovers. She had chuckled and blushed a bit, but couldn't deny his observations. Before any of that could happen, though, she has to clean herself up; when they leave Kellerman and Sucre across the hall, she makes a beeline for the bathroom and only then notices the gash on her hairline. Whatever they had hit her with had been hard. How had she not seen this before? Michael follows her, stands behind her and runs a smooth finger along the base of the wound, asking if it hurt. She shakes her head and asks if he has a first aid kit handy; he looks remorseful when he tells her he doesn't. So she cleans it to the best of her ability and is forced to leave it open. She could, if necessary, sew it herself with a simple needle and thread, but it isn't that deep and she has no interest in doing that ever again.

It's the shower that gets to her; she'd never noticed how much she takes showers for granted until she was deprived of them for a few days. Even the cheap hotel shampoo and the bar of soap that is sure to leave her skin dry and flaky don't irritate her; she takes them both and appreciates them all the same. She inhales the steam and washes away the sweat, the blood, the brain matter, most likely, to finally get back to herself. Afterwards, she stands only in a towel, finger-combing her damp hair and watching the fog on the windows slowly evaporate. It's only then that she realizes she doesn't have any other clothes.

Michael doesn't seem to mind. When she exits the bathroom, he tugs on the towel and pulls her flush against him on the bed; all thoughts of clothing are, then, completely forgotten.

"Hmm," He kisses her again and he can still hear her heart pounding, even after they've finished. "Now I need a shower."

She grins. "Well I need another one, now."

"You're more than welcome to join me."

"I'll think about it," She teases and he smirks at her.

She begins toying with his fingers, twisting his wedding ring, and Michael asks, "Regretting our decision, are we?"

"No, not all," She laughs slightly. "Just wondering if you're regretting yours."

"Which part of anything that we just did made you think that?" He asks honestly. "Say the word; I'll never do it again."

"Not that decision," Sara rolls her eyes playfully. "I'm talking about this; about tonight and about this whole operation. You guys have your team and I don't want to ruin the way you run things. I don't want to break up the rhythm or get in the way or anything."

Michael glances at her and asks, "Well now whose self-esteem needs work?"

She looks back. "I'm being serious, Michael."

"So am I," He tells her. "No one thinks you get in the way. You're a valuable part of this team just like the last time. We need you; you aren't going to ruin anything. And they all think so too, believe me. They are all just as grateful as I am that you're here with us."

"Are they? Should I have sex with them, too?" She asks cheekily, breaking into a grin.

Michael grins right back. "There you are. I was afraid I'd lost you, for a second."

Sara shakes her head. "You could never lose me."

She's only half-joking and they both know it. And suddenly, the tone of the room changes from lighthearted and playful to a much darker place. Michael runs a hand through her still-damp hair, saying, "I'm not sure that's true. It seems like every time I try to protect you, I come dangerously close to just that."

Sara shakes her head, "It isn't your fault, Michael."

"Isn't it?" He counteracts. "If I had kept you and the kids with me, they couldn't have reached you."

"They would've figured out another way to get a rise out of you," Sara says. "They always do. And being around here with their father and uncle wielding guns at every turn is not something that I want the kids to see."

"How much did they see at C-Note's house?" Michael asks worriedly and Sara sighs.

"Nothing. We were in the back bedroom so they didn't see anything," She insists and then frowns. "The same probably can't be said for what they heard."

"Sara," He asks, almost pained. "What happened?"

She blinks and only then realizes he hadn't been with them. She had been painfully aware of this fact in the moment when everything was happening so incredibly fast. But now, since she's so used to having Michael read her every thought, she cannot even fathom the fact that he has no idea the kind of dangers she and the kids had endured all those days ago. He doesn't know; he doesn't even have the faintest idea. She's not sure where to begin, honestly. It had all happened so fast. One minute she'd been making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The next, she was awakening, tied to a chair, in the middle of nowhere. How could she even begin to cover everything that had happened in between?

She starts from the beginning. "Well, we'd just gotten home from taking the kids to the park. There's a great one, just by Benjamin's house. He said he always used to take DeDe there; she loved the monkey bars. Anyway, the kids were starving, so I told them to wash up for lunch and I'd make them some sandwiches. They were in the bathroom down the hall and I was spreading some jelly on some bread or something when there was this crash, this enormous crash, coming from the front window of the living room. It took me a while to realize someone was shooting at us. Benjamin was armed- he was always armed, even when we were in public- and he told me to get the kids and get to the back bedroom. He said he'd take care of it."

"Sofia and LJ were at the grocery store," Sara continues. "And I was so worried they would come home early and get caught in the middle of everything. I was holding onto Noah and Zoe and trying to answer all of their questions but they had so many and I just wanted them to be quiet so we didn't draw attention to ourselves. I was trying to block the sounds of the gunshots out so they couldn't hear them. It was muffled already because we weren't in earshot but I didn't want them to be afraid. There was a gunshot, a scream and a thud before there was complete silence. I had no idea what happened, but knowing, now, that Benjamin's dead, I'm assuming that's when it happened. That's when he was killed."

"I got him involved in this," Michael says, stricken. "I asked if he would help and he agreed; he wanted you to be safe, too, and in the end, it cost him his life. I took him away from his family."

"No, you didn't," Sara disagrees. "The Company took him away from his family. Not you."

"Sara, it's my fault he's dead."

"Do you need a reminder of what you said to me when I said that about Bruce?" Sara asks. "Benjamin chose to help you. The Company killed him, not you."

Michael looks as though he's still skeptical, but he remains quiet, so Sara continues on. "After, there were footsteps in the hallway and so I told Noah and Zoe to stay under the bed and to be super quiet. There was nothing in the bedroom but a letter opener and this guy with a snake tattoo decided that bringing a knife to a gunfight didn't suit me. He brought me at gunpoint out to this battered van and another guy hit me over the head with something. I'm not sure what it was, but it hurt like hell; I was unconscious for a significant amount of time."

"They were supposed to bring me to Durham," Sara explains. "I heard them say that and that's why I left that phonebook page in the mailbox with the phone. Just in case, you know? But Stacy decided at the last minute to move the operation to some abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, so we were still here, in Raleigh. She and Murphy 'tortured'- and I use that term very lightly- me for a few days. For some reason they thought using psychological warfare was going to harm me. They obviously hadn't done their research or else they would've known I'd been through much worse."

"Finally, Stacy got an order from Edison saying he wanted me dead," Sara concludes. "Only she was adamant that Murphy had to be the one to kill me because he needed to prove he deserved to be part of The Company. She left for a meeting with Edison and some other guy and Murphy couldn't take the pressure and shot himself instead. I knew he wasn't going to do it. He didn't even want to. But I thought I could talk him out of it; maybe talk him into joining the fight against them instead. He didn't have to die. Stacy didn't take it lightly, but I escaped anyway. I'm sure she's fuming. I found the bus station and tried to clean myself up a bit before asking that really nice woman for some money for the phone. But then… There you were."

She glances at him when she's finished and his face, he's sure, is unreadable. This beautifully broken woman has been through a world of shit and it's entirely his fault. He remembers the day he first met her, and most likely will for the rest of his life; how she had been a humanitarian, always looking for an opportunity to improve the world she was living in. He remembers her wit and her intellect and her impeccable sense of humor. He remembers how she could read him as easily as a book from the very start; how she had called his bluff when he said he wasn't used to needles or how she knew all of his injuries stemmed from much more than a game of basketball or a pair of garden shears slicing through his boot. He remembers the sheer terror in her eyes during the prison riot and the utmost trust and faith she put in him to get her out of there.

Sara had been delicate and graceful, innocent and forbidden. He remembers her like this and he remembers when she had changed; she had gone from someone shaking and horrified ("I just took a man's life!") to someone who didn't hesitate to hold a woman at gunpoint, who held a knife to the throat of the woman who'd tortured her and begged for information, who had shot and killed her would-be mother-in-law. Sara has always been a remarkable human being and these new personality traits had only made Michael love her more, but he always wonders if she'd changed because she had to, not because she wanted to. He always wonders if she hadn't done what she'd done for him, if she hadn't left the infirmary door open and followed him across the country, if she hadn't let him ruin her life, would she still be that innocent prison doctor who had once joked about her cluttered apartment and told a bitter story about her father?

He isn't sure and he'll never know, but the guilt eats at him to this very day. It had been his fault, after all. She wouldn't have had to change if it wasn't for him. The past seven years in which they'd returned to their normal everyday lives had transformed her personality, however. She isn't as hardened and prepared for combat; marriage and motherhood had brought out a whole new side of her that had almost completely covered this dark side. But still, every so often, she'd go there. Anytime Sofia mentions Panama or Linc brings up the Scylla project will do it and every year, the anniversary of her father's death, which she still blames herself for, comes back to haunt her. And of course, being tied to a chair and watching a man take his own life is sure to bring Sara back to a place she would rather not be.

Michael looks at her, now; her story's a tragic one and yet she still finds a way out of the darkness. She'll claim he's what keeps her going, but he knows that, more often than not, it's the other way around. "Sara, I love you."

She looks somewhat startled by his random admission but nonetheless pleased. "I love you, too."

It isn't enough; it's never enough, but then again, words have never been enough to truly express to her just how much she means to him. He hadn't even been sure it was possible to love another person this much, but she continues to prove him wrong everyday. Lincoln had told him, all those years ago in Fox River, that his breakout plan was great in theory but there was one thing he couldn't plan, one thing he couldn't count on- people. He had never been more correct in his life. Michael had gone into this thing with one end result in mind and it had never been falling in love. He'd never expected anything like that could happen, but there were sparks instantly and it didn't take long for them to burn into a full-fledged flame. She's the only person he has ever loved and the only person he ever will.

She's everything to him and he would fight The Company forever if it meant they could never take her away.

"They're on to us, sir."

Nathaniel Edison continues to stare out that great glass window of his Clearwater mansion, ignoring Stacy's premonition. He had expected this sooner or later; Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows weren't the kind of men to go down without a fight. Still, he had to hand it to them; they'd made it this far without Edison even knowing they were coming. Clearly, they had inherited some aspects from their dearly departed mother. Footsteps outside the door signify that Heath has made it, too; he's out of breath and looks entirely apprehensive, like a puppy waiting to be scolded.

"You do not have good news for me, do you, Heath?" Edison asks without looking at the man.

"No, sir," Heath frowns. "We lost the children."

"Lost them?" Edison implores. "They're not a set of keys, Heath. How does one lose two children and a teenager?"

"It was yesterday, sir, when we had our meeting," Heath explains. "Norton let them get away."

"I'm starting to wonder if either of you are really taking your jobs seriously," Edison reprimands. "Two of my agents die under your command and one blows his own brains out."

"It was Sara, sir," Stacy defends herself. "She made him-"

"And you lost her," Edison sneers. "And you, Heath, lost the children. Don't you know that they were our only connection to Scofield? How do you suppose we get to him now? We have no leverage."

"I'm sorry, sir," Heath nods. "I take full responsibility for our actions. Norton's always had a soft spot when it comes to kids and I should have never left him alone with them."

"Well then you know what needs to be done," Edison says matter-of-factly. "I want him dead by this evening."

If Heath is shocked by this order, he doesn't show it; merely nods and turns to go. "Yes, sir."

"And Heath?"

"Sir?"

"Do make it look like an accident," Edison advises. "We can't afford any slip-ups, here."

"Yes, sir."

Stacy shifts her weight from one foot to the other and Edison sighs. "Is there something you'd like to ask, Stacy?"

"It's just that… If Sara and the kids have returned to them, then they'll know pretty quickly where we are."

"Yes, Stacy, they will. Now you're understanding just how grave the situation is."

Stacy nods. "They're coming for us."

Edison shrugs. "Let them come."

"What do we do, sir?"

Edison once again turns to that giant pane of glass, sure of how this would end. "We prepare for war."

Sometime after midnight, they fall asleep. Showers, once again, forgotten, they're tangled in each other's arms, relishing the ability to actually get a good night's sleep, something that only seems to come when they're together. She's dreaming of a time when they're all together again, of taking the kids to Disney World and living their lives normally once more. Slumber is greatly appreciated; it had been sparse the last couple of days. However, it doesn't last long; a little after two a.m., there's a sharp knock on their hotel room door. They're both startled awake, ready to spring into action and fight against whoever it is that dares disrupt their slumber.

"Whoever that is better have a death wish," Michael grumbles, getting out of bed and crossing the room to the door. Sara smirks and follows him.

It's Sucre and he looks just as sleep-deprived as they feel. "Hey, papi. They're back."

That's all he needs to say; Michael and Sara follow him across the hall to the other reserved room, Sucre swiping them in and allowing entry to the room in which Alex and Lincoln had finally returned. They gather around, taking up couches, chairs and the foot of the bed in order to hear what the two men have to say. Kellerman exits the bathroom, then, up and ready as if it's the middle of the day and asks if anyone wants coffee. They stare at him strangely before refusing; none of them have any interest in staying awake. Alex runs a rough hand over his exhausted features and Lincoln yawns, waiting for everyone to settle before giving the details.

"It took us forever to find that old house," He begins, turning to Sara. "You were right; it really is in the middle of nowhere."

"I told you," She says. "I had no idea where I was."

"Anyway, we got there and the whole place was swarming with cops and EMTs," Lincoln continues. "We asked what happened and the police said they found a body inside. No prints, no foul play suggested."

"The COD was an 'unfortunate suicide'," Alex then states. "Stacy was nowhere to be found. If I had to guess, Edison's keeping his henchmen close to him, now. They're dropping like flies, otherwise."

"We only have four left, now," Lincoln concludes. "Norton, Stacy, Heath and, well, Edison."

"Which means they're all most likely holed up with him in Clearwater," Michael figures. "And we need to figure out how he operates so we can use that against him and take him down."

"And how are we gonna do that?" Sucre asks.

Michael already has an answer. "Gretchen."

Kellerman groans and says, sarcastically, "Yes, let's go see her again. Because she was so helpful the last time!"

"She'll help, this time," Michael says. "After all, we have Emily."

"We're going to blackmail her using the only person she cares about," Lincoln observes. "Ruthless but impressive."

"We're really going back to Miami?" Kellerman frowns and Michael rolls his eyes.

"Edison's in Clearwater; we have to go to Florida, anyway," He reasons. "We might as well get all the ammunition we can while we're there."

It's settled, then; the next morning, they gather their things and head straight to the airport, on their way, once again, to Miami, Florida. It's a fairly short flight, only a little over an hour, and once they land, they turn to their resident car expert, Sucre, to get them a ride. The drive to the penitentiary is a quiet one; Kellerman is still fuming and does not fully understand why Gretchen would help, considering she'd done absolutely nothing for them the last time. The rest of them are all trying to figure out who should be the one to talk to her. Sucre jokingly suggests that it should be Lincoln, since that had worked out so well the last time, and Lincoln can't get a refusal out fast enough.

"Absolutely fucking not. If I never see that bitch again, I'll be a happy man."

"I can do it," Sara offers and all eyes snap to her.

"Are you sure?" Michael asks in concern, but she nods her agreement.

"Yeah, why not?"

He looks at her imploringly. "You know why not."

"That's in the past," Sara says. "Plus she's handcuffed. What could she possibly do?"

"You don't have to do this," Lincoln shakes his head. "I'll go."

"No, I want to," Sara insists. "Maybe I can convince her to help us. She may not be Emily's legal mother, but she still considers her to be the most important thing in the world."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"I am," She nods, adamant. "Gretchen and I will have a talk, mother to mother, and I'll get all the information we need."