The Night That Never Left Us

Chapter Two

It was evening. The sun had already settled for the day, and the ends of her hair were still wet when she came out of the bathroom. Michael was bracing against the door of their room, giving no indication he knew she was there. She may barely know this man but knew better than to think anything escaped him.

Sara threw the towel on the bed and ran her fingers through the wet ends, her eyes on the back he kept turned to her.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked.

Michael straightened his back and turned to face her. His breathing was labored under the weight of whatever he was about to say. Her hands went still, then slowly fell to sides of her body. She was unsure of what to think while sure she didn't want to hear it, once again catching herself wanting to give him a free pass.

"I looked you up. I did my research before I got to Fox River," he said. "That's how I knew about Gandhi."

"Michael, what are you doing?"

"I told you once that there are answers to your questions. I'm giving them to you, now."

"You don't need to explain it to me. All you did, it was to save Lincoln. I understand," she said, averting her eyes again. He stepped closer, for him, but kept space between them, for her.

She was his biggest worry, his bigger fear, but it walked hand in hand with the only moments he found any respite. He watched her as she glanced around the room, looking for an excuse to get him off her mind, watched as the dim light fell upon her face and none of the shadows could mar her grace. Her hands fumbled with nothing in them, the hands that stopped the blood and made the pain better.

Perhaps he was unfair to her, telling her all this now, in here, when they were running for their lives and this room was the only place where they could catch their breaths. She had nowhere to go. The sound of his voice brought back the words he had spoken in the infirmary, the calculations that cost her the life she had struggled to assemble. And whenever she looked at him, it must bring back the sight of her father as he hanged there, dead.

She had welcomed his touch. Seeing him made the long hours seem shorter, back when they had been in Fox River. There had been something, there might have been something someday. But under the circumstances that brought them to each other, they perhaps had never stood a chance.

Maybe he should just leave it, get them out, make sure she was safe, then leave, leave her alone. He could never undo the devastation he had caused, but he didn't need to be a reminder of it. But he was never as strong, as noble, as he considered himself to be. When she was this close to him, he could not deceive himself even if he wanted to.

But he tried. He made a step back, slid his hands in the pockets of his pants. He had stood like that the last time they had seen each other before things had forever changed.

"I don't expect you to believe me, Sara, just like I understand if you can't forgive me, but please, let me explain. I just want to be honest with you."

Why?

It was the first thought that went through Sara's head, but she kept herself from saying it out loud. She knew why. It was why he was here, with her, in Gila, a place that felt like the dead-end, an obstacle on his way to safety, a waste of time. It was in his voice the time he had called her; it was the fact that he had called at all. She was of no benefit to him anymore, there were no more keys that he needed, and now when her father was dead, she was no leverage. It would have been easier, for both, had he left nothing behind the night he had broken out. Safer. No one would have been after her if it was not for the messages he had sent, and the man from today would not have found him.