A/N: Last chapter is here; it's short, and I'm sad to see this story end. Any ideas/prompts/requests for the next one? I'd love to hear from you :) I'm kinda missing Veronica, so the next one might be more season 1 era. As always, thank you so much for reading, it means a lot!

XXXXX

They all sat in silence: Michael, Lincoln, Sara, Mahone. The room was large and had a massive table, the air conditioner offering a steady breeze and a light hum. The four of them sat with Michael and Sara on one side, Mahone and Lincoln on the other, facing each other. Agents Dalton and Murphy were at the head of the table, standing. They wandered and paced while everyone read the deal- wanting to check all the fine print before signing. Paul was there too, seemingly in his own world.

Sara flipped through the pages reading every word; she wanted to trust them- it was Homeland Security after all, but she'd learned better. Read the fine print. Check for loopholes. Have some doubt.

She wondered if that habit would ever go away. When this was over and they were all free, would she forever be a double-checker? Would she ever blindly trust again? She wasn't sure, but right now she was glad to have four sets of eyes on every word before them.

Michael was reading the quickest. She shouldn't be surprised, but the way his mind worked was still a bit of a mystery to her. He could skim through the fastest and still probably remember the words in greater detail than everyone else. She knew his memory wasn't technically photographic, but it was certainly wired differently than most.

Lincoln rested his head in one hand, rubbing it back and forth over his scalp from time to time.

When Sara finished reading, she lifted her eyes and they came to rest on Paul. He was seated now in a chair that was against the wall, the briefcase containing Scylla in his lap.

It was crazy how much things could change.

She still had a bit of anger towards him; nearly drowning because of him would do that to a person, but she was trying to let that go. She had nearly strangled him, which she supposed evened the score a bit…but if she was giving into a childish notion: he started it.

He came after her. Captured her. Tortured her. She wouldn't have felt the irrepressible urge to seek revenge if he hadn't initiated the violence. She knew it was no excuse, but she was only human. Seeing him now as an ally was strange. His edges had softened somehow, and she wanted to believe that a foundational change had really occurred within him. Only time would tell, she supposed, but honestly hoped she wouldn't be around to find out.

She had a life to carry on with, and perhaps a new one to build.

A swell of love, perhaps even joy, bubbled in her chest as she looked over at Michael besides her. For the first time in a long time, she almost dared to imagine the future beyond tomorrow. He looked back and smiled softly, taking her hand beneath the table. It grounded her. His eyes darted to the pages in front of them and then back to her, his eyebrows raised as if to say, "Look ok to you?"

She nodded, not having found any red flags.

Murphy cleared his throat, "How we doing? Any questions?"

Michael made eye contact with everyone, getting a subtle nod of approval from everyone, "I think we're ready to sign."

Murphy nodded, and grabbed a few pens, handing them each one.

Sara felt nervous; it was silly, she was signing to gain something. Freedom. It's not like she was signing a million dollar check, but the nerves were still there. The weight of it all wasn't lost on her; they'd fought so hard for this. Suffered. Hell, Lincoln was still freshly stitched, she remembered, making a mental note to take him to a hospital soon after they left the building.

Signing her name felt foreign, utterly mundane considering what it meant. A simple scroll, something she'd learned to do as a child was all that was required now. She put the pen down and they passed their papers towards Murphy; Paul stood up and handed him the briefcase, shaking his hand.

XXXXX

Sara sat on the balcony of their hotel room, one they'd paid for with a real live credit card. They'd used their names, their real names, to check in. It really was the little things in life that brought the most pleasure.

Lincoln had gone to the hospital (against his better judgement) and was staying there overnight. She was glad he was in good hands, selfishly easing her burden of being his off-the-books doctor.

They'd all said their goodbyes to Mahone, Paul and the agents, thanking them all. It had been surprisingly bitter-sweet. They'd all been though a lot together, and it was strange to go their separate ways. Even Dalton and Murphy had earned their badge of friendship in the short time they'd known each other, and she'd wished them well, joking that she hoped to never see them again.

Michael opened the sliding glass door and came out to join her, taking a seat in the cushioned chair beside her.

She leaned her head back, enjoying the warm evening air, "Is it really over?" she sighed.

A nervous chuckle, "I think so."

She reached over and wriggled her fingers, beckoning for his hand. He wove his fingers through hers as she asked, "Do you worry at all about Christina?"

"In what way?"

She shrugged, "Any of them," wanting to hear his thoughts before supplying her own.

"Well," he sighed, "I don't think she'll come after us…if that's your concern."

"It is, a little," she admitted. Having their freedom in the eyes of the law was great and all, but Christina could still come after them. Even though the Company lost Scylla, lost everything, she still had men in her corner. Someone would do her bidding.

"If she wanted us killed she would've done it when she had us locked away."

"But at that point, she needed us to get Scylla back," Sara pointed out, "she thought she could get that information from us or use us as bargaining chips."

Michael still looked skeptical, "Not to sound self-serving, but she…we worked well together."

"When you were brainwashed."

"Well, yea," he admitted, "but still," a sigh, "I hate what she did to me, to all of us, but I think in some deranged way…she still cares about me. She cares about me, and I care about you and Linc. She's not going to do anything," he reiterated.

She wanted to believe him and found that she mostly did. A prickle of doubt was still there, but with the warm breeze playing with her hair and Michael's hand in hers, she chose to ignore it. Living the rest of her life in fear, sleeping with one eye open…that wasn't an option.

It was difficult to imagine what the future might hold, though she was optimistic. Given the extenuating circumstances, the deal they'd made would allow both her and Michael to be employable again as a doctor and an engineer. She had some paperwork to do to renew her license, but she would be able to get it back. Same for him- he'd be able to work as an engineer again if that's what he chose. But where they would live, when they would go…they hadn't discussed it yet. For now, she wanted to stand still. Take a breather. Transitioning back to civilian life might be strange, and she didn't want to rush it. They had an excuse to take a few weeks off and vacation, maybe actually do something fun. She pictured a day strolling the city with Michael, leisurely meals, museums and shows…it seemed like a dream. One that could finally become a reality.

After a moment too long of her silence, he tilted his head, "What's on your mind?"

She met his eyes and raised their joined hands, kissing the back of his, "I love you."

A mischievous grin, "Sometimes I don't know why."

Defensively, with humor, "Hey, you're lovable."

He gave a grimace, "I question your taste; I've put you through hell-"

"-I chose to go."

"Which again, makes me question your taste-"

She extracted her hand and gave him a playful backhanded slap, "Stop it. You're stuck with me. Forever. Whether you like it or not."

Expression softening, eyes more serious, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Really?"

Genuine, "Really."

After a moment, "I almost forgot, I have something for you," he started to get up.

"Uh," she chuckled, "ok?"

He came back a few seconds later with a hand behind his back, "Close your eyes."

She humored him and closed them, holding her hands out in front of her.

He placed an object in them, firm edges yet light.

"Open."

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw the photograph, the one from Panama, in a beautiful wooden frame. He'd obviously had another one printed; the original that she'd used over and over again to spark his memory had been folded and worn. This one was brand new.

She couldn't find the words. The picture meant so much, represented so much. It was that day in Panama, that happy, too short day, full of smiles and sunshine. It represented her loss of him. The time when he didn't know her, and when she didn't feel like he belonged to her anymore. Losing him in any way was something she never wanted to experience again, and the photo reminded her to be grateful. Never take him or their life together for granted. And it represented their future. They'd come so far, and there was no one else she'd rather spend her life with, even if it meant going to hell and back. Even if he questioned her taste. She didn't.

She set the framed photo down carefully on the side table and rose up to embrace him; her arms wound around him and his did the same, fitting together perfectly, her head coming to rest against him.

She spoke softly against the gentle breeze, "Thank you."

He sighed, "Thank you for staying with me," his chest rumbled against her ear as he spoke, "I feel like I never really thanked you for that, with everything going on-"

Her head lifted, meeting his eyes, "-of course I stayed. And you did thank me-"

"-not enough."

She looked at him more sternly now, she wasn't going to have him feeling guilty about this forever.

"It is enough," she pressed her lips to his, "I'm just glad to have you back."

The look in his eyes told her that he was slightly assured, that the guilt was subdued.

She snuggled her cheek against him again and closed her eyes, exhaling with a slight shake, overwhelmed with both love and relief, "I have you back."