Chapter 8: An Endgame And An Enigma

"I have a list. It has three names on it. Three people I'd do anything to see again. I just want to let you know, as of now, I haven't woken up to a single one of their faces for an entire year."

Despite the darkness, the smirk etched onto the face hovering over Mahone was unmistakeable.

"Nice to have you back on this mortal coil, too, Alex. I'll take a stab at it and guess you weren't nearly as struck with feelings of overwhelming relief at seeing me because you weren't aware I was ever dead."

"The last time I saw you …"

Mahone groaned and stopped mid-rise, falling back on his bed as anger gave way to a throbbing ache in his head only made worse by a ringing in his ears.

After a moment, he managed, "You tried to kill me?"

"There we go! That's the stellar cognitive reasoning machine we've all come to love." Kellerman's voice grew indistinguishable with the roaring in Mahone's head as he moved away from the bed for a moment, before returning with a glass of water. "Though don't forget that Jack was the one who actually shot you. Twice," he added, as though Mahone couldn't feel the golf ball-sized bruises on his chest.

Regarding the glass with as much willingness to drink it as he would be if he had poisoned it himself, Mahone tightened his grip of the sheets at his sides and pushed himself into a sitting position. His face twitched as he met Kellerman's gaze again. There wasn't a person alive he was less endeared to continuing a conversation with after having lain bare to him how weak he was feeling.

"I know what you're thinking," said Kellerman, setting the glass down, "but even if your usefulness ran out on me one day, I wouldn't be cheap enough to suffocate you in your sleep. Too petty for my tastes."

"You're insane."

"Aren't you curious to know what's going on?"

"My son," Mahone replied, menace gaining a stronghold of his voice again. "Where is he, Paul?"

Kellerman smiled. "You know, there's a whole other living, walking and breathing human being in peril right along with Cameron as we speak."

Mahone made a sudden movement for the lapels of Kellerman's coat. However, instead of getting his point across by throttling the ex-Company agent to within an inch of his life, he felt pain swipe through the area just below his collarbone and he gave a sharp yell, falling back. Kellerman's expression remained infuriatingly glib as Mahone felt the bandage jutting out from beneath his shirt.

"I really have to know, Alex. Is it possible to grow tired of surviving gunshot wounds eked out of people's god-awful aims?"

Regaining control of his breathing rate, Mahone spat, "Just tell me what the hell's going on."

Unexpectedly, Kellerman switched on a light overhanging Mahone's bed. As Mahone added the light's glare to the tumult of things hurting his body to the point where unconsciousness was preferable, the other man in the room pulled up a chair.

"You know I like to keep things simple, so here's all you need to know," Kellerman said, sitting. "I testified against the Company. They got to me before I could do any real damage, but instead of permanently silencing me, they threw me in Sona with the order to find and extract Tony Almeida in exchange for my life."

"You were one of the guys they used before me and Michael. One of the two guys who negotiated with Almeida to the point that, if I'm not mistaken, they died," Mahone said, stressing the last word.

"Not that I can't handle myself, but if it weren't for Jane, it might've ended up that way."

"Jane," Mahone repeated. "Jack's source."

"And head of the anti-Company movement, as of your cold-blooded gunning down of Aldo Burrows. Amazing woman. You'll like her when you meet her."

"What are you saying?" asked Mahone, pulling off a significant feat of willpower and ignoring Kellerman's remark about his role in the death of Michael's father. "The same person who told Jack that his best friend was pin-in-a-haystack-ed in a Panamanian prison rescued you from the conspiracy trash heap as well?"

"Well, when you put it that way, I'm so glad I had the undying proportions of your eternal gratitude to look forward to when I risked my life to bring you back to the States."

"It's a simple question, Paul."

"Yeah. She got the message to me that she had enlisted Jack's help in getting to Tony before the Company did. She knew to the exact degree how much the Company had screwed me, and she asked if I'd be willing to join the 'rase those bastards to the ground' campaign. I agreed. She made sure that the next body that came out of Sona had my DNA in it. Now the Company thinks I'm dead. That's becoming my speciality, come to think of it."

"So why did Jack –" the anger level in Mahone's voice spiked despite his attempt at control "– why did he help Ryan machinate my and Michael's incarceration in Sona when he already had you to do the heavy lifting?"

Leaning back in his chair, Kellerman didn't reply for a long moment. At last, he sighed and said, "When I found Tony, he refused to co-operate with me because I did to his wife what Ryan did to yours."

"Excuse me?"

"God gave you that brain for a reason, Alex. Figure it out. Two years ago I planted a car bomb that killed Michelle Dessler, who not only happened to be Almeida's wife, but an actual friend of Jack's. Which didn't exactly keep me in his good graces or the Sona breakout club when he found out."

"I got the part where you were just doing your job," Mahone replied, too tired to put a cap on his sarcasm. "What I don't understand is how you thought telling Almeida that you murdered his wife would earn his trust."

"Now you're not even trying to hide the fact you're mocking my intelligence."

"So he found out on his own."

"As soon as I found him and as soon as he laid eyes on me, the man went out of his mind. I nearly killed him that day out of self-defence. But I knew that wouldn't sit well with either Company or Not Company, so I left him alone. And, from what I've figured, Jack put a plan into motion that would bring the only two people he could trust with Tony to Sona."

At Mahone's expression, Kellerman continued with a smirk, "You don't think I'd mutually acquaint my hands with your windpipe if I'd known you were under Jack's thumb instead of the Company's, do you?"

"Well, when you put it that way, I'm so glad I have the undying proportions of your eternal loyalty to yourself to stake my life on in the future."

A laugh escaped Kellerman's lips, and he stood. "Why don't you sleep on that."

"Wait a second," said Mahone as Kellerman made toward the room's exit. "I still have questions. I have questions, Paul, so stop! Where's my son? Where are we? What happened to everyone else? Why did the Company …"

"We're in a safehouse in Ohio. In two hours, Jane and I will be boarding a plane to Detroit to get Sara and Cameron out of the Company firing line. Michael's probably dead … Jane hasn't really gone out of her way to explain to me what Jack was planning to do with him …"

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not. Jack shot you once in your vest and once … happily, not in your vest, and twice right next to your head, so he could make sure you were just as dead to the Company as I am. And in case I haven't pointed out the gaping wound in your chest enough, I'm betting you're going to have difficulty not keeling over at a slight wind, let alone a firefight."

"You can't extract Cameron or Sara without getting them killed."

"Those trust issues are going to bury you one day," Kellerman replied. "We've got it covered. All you need to do is get some rest so your boy has a father to come back to."

Going mute with frustration, Mahone took a sip of water from the glass next to his bed, nearly coughing it back up as the cool liquid met the back of his parched throat.

Finally, he said, "Back in Sona. How do I know you didn't try to kill me on Company orders? That you're not still on their side in this?"

"You know just as well as I do that there are no sides for men like us. There's only our own backs."

"So is Almeida out there right now looking out for number one, or has he picked a side yet?"

Kellerman rubbed his eyes, and for the first time, Mahone could see a glimpse of humanity in the tiredness of the man's face.

"Have you heard of the Arkhangelsk Initiative, Alex?" When Mahone shook his head, Kellerman continued, "If we don't find Almeida soon, he's going to get all of us killed. Now get some rest."

Mahone didn't.