Epiphany - Lincoln/Veronica (NC-17)
Title: Epiphany (1/3)
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters/Pairing: Lincoln Burrows/Veronica Donovan, Michael Scofield
Genre: Het, pre-series
Length: 3,380 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary:That's the problem with epiphanies; you never know when to expect them.
Author's Note:For domfangirl, who really wanted some Lincoln/Veronica that she didn't have to write herself. *winks* I hope you had a wonderful day on Friday, and I promise the second half of this story will be finished by your next birthday. *g* Many thanks to wrldpossiblity for pointing out a sleep-deprived author's typos and to everyone who helped me to understand the American graduation ceremony a little better. This story contains a huge amount of supposition and speculation re ages and pre-series canon which should be taken with a grain of fangirl salt, and is set in the Full Circle universe.
~*~
Looking back, he should have known Michael was working his way up to dropping a mini-bombshell. He doesn’t argue over which pizzas to order, he doesn’t turn his nose up at Lincoln’s choice of beer, and he doesn’t wince at the Journey CD blaring from the stereo in the next room.
It takes until halfway through dinner, but finally his brother takes an audible breath and eyeballs him across the table. “Vee called me today.”
“Yeah?” Lincoln tries to look as though he doesn’t care his own phone has been devoid of calls from Vee for over six months. “How is she?”
“She’s good.” His brother snags another piece of pizza from the box on the table between them, placing it carefully on his plate rather than taking a bite. “She’s graduating in two weeks.”
“Uh huh.”
“That’s why she called.” Michael gazes at him steadily. “She wants us to come.”
The pepperoni pizza he’d been enjoying suddenly turns to tasteless glue on his tongue. “Right.” He swallows hard, not meeting Michael’s eyes. “I guess she couldn’t think of anyone else to invite.” Michael says nothing. Sighing, Lincoln reluctantly lifts his gaze to his brother’s face. “She really wants us to come to Baylor?”
“Yes.”
“In Texas?”
“Yes.”
“Both of us?”
Michael gives him a long-suffering look. “Yes.”
Lincoln stares down at the half-eaten pizza on his plate. He might not have gone to college, but he knows how it works. It’s not as though students can invite as many people as they like to the graduation ceremony, and the thought that Veronica has chosen them - chosen him - over everyone else she knows is a little overwhelming.
He looks across the table, the unspoken hope in his brother’s eyes confirming what he already knows. This is something they need to do, as much for Vee as for themselves. He frowns, mentally flicking through the logistics. “We’d have to stay at least one night there, I suppose-”
“I can take care of the hotel booking.” As usual, his brother is quick to take the planning into his own hands, and Lincoln wonders if he’s already started making enquiries. Feeling outmaneuvered on two fronts, he gives up, knowing that objecting would only be fighting a losing battle.
“I guess this means we’re going on a road trip.”
“I thought we might fly, actually.” Michael hesitates, then confirms Lincoln’s earlier suspicion that he’d already started researching travel arrangements. “I don't want to have to miss too many shifts at the shelter, and the airfares aren’t that bad.”
Lincoln does his best not to wince. Finding the cash for even the cheapest airfare will take some doing, but he’s not in the mood for yet another argument over money. “Works for me.”
“Great.” Michael flashes him a quick grin, something that seems to happen less and less these days, Lincoln realises with a pang. “You can buy a new tie with the money we save on the tickets.”
Lincoln snorts. He’s never taken fashion advice from someone who insists on wearing a baseball cap with everything, and he sees no reason to start now. “Yeah, right,” he mutters as he reaches for his beer. “Dream on, man.”
~*~
Waco in May is hot. Stinking hot, in fact.
Shifting restlessly on the hard plastic seat, Lincoln scowls as he plucks at the lapels of the black jacket Michael had insisted he wear. And to think he assumed he was getting off easy by not wearing a tie, he thinks sourly, feeling a yet another bead of sweat trail down his spine.
Beside him, Michael looks irritatingly comfortable in a long-sleeved shirt and tie, topped off by his ever-present baseball cap. He’s been quiet, almost pensive, ever since they arrived on campus, and Lincoln wonders if he’s thinking about the day when he’ll finally graduate from Loyola.
“Don’t know why she had to go to school all the way out here,” Lincoln mutters, the hot sun making him feel as though he’s been awake for forty-eight hours straight. “Why didn’t she just do her law degree at Illinois?”
He's asked this question many times before, but he's never received the answer he wants to hear. Scanning the crowd of gown-clad graduates gathering to their right, Michael doesn’t look at him as he replies. “Maybe she wanted to get away for a while.”
It looks like today's answer isn't going to be the one he wants to hear, either. Lincoln shoves his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose with an irritated finger. “Away from me, you mean?”
Michael’s shrug is non-committal. “From a lot of things, I think.”
Lincoln slouches down in his chair, thinking of everything Veronica had left behind in Chicago when she’d moved to Texas. A deadbeat father, a tiny off-campus apartment with suspect electrical wiring, and an ex-boyfriend who’d fathered a child to someone else two seconds after she’d gone away to college the first time around.
When he lets himself think about it like that, he’d be surprised if she ever came back.
“There she is,” Michael suddenly announces, and Lincoln finds himself sitting to attention, straining for his first glimpse of Veronica Donovan in over a year. It takes him less than five seconds to pick her out of the crowd, and the sight of her hits him like a punch to the gut.
She’s smiling at the female student beside her, the two of them laughingly comparing the too-long sleeves of their bright blue gowns. Her black hair is sleek and glossy, tumbling over her shoulders, her mouth a vivid splash of colour in her pale face. She looks calm and serious and beautiful and he’s suddenly very glad he let Michael talk him into shaving this morning.
The ceremony lasts - God help him - over two hours. Even with the distraction of watching Veronica to keep him occupied, it’s an effort not to fall into a stupor after the first twenty minutes’ worth of mind-numbingly boring speeches.
When they finally get around to handing out the diplomas and Veronica’s name is called, Michael puts his fingers to his lips and whistles loudly, making several heads turn. Veronica darts a quick, faintly embarrassed grin at the crowd, then walks across the stage to shake the dean’s hand. Beneath the hem of her gown, Lincoln sees the pale flash of her slender ankles, the black patent leather of her ridiculously high heels gleaming in the sunshine. He narrows his gaze, suddenly assailed by the memory of a pair of heels just like that digging into the small of his back, Veronica’s short skirt bunched high around her thighs, her arms wrapped tight around his neck.
Fuck.
A fresh prickle of sweat breaks out on his forehead, and he swipes the back of his hand across his damp skin. The sudden ache in his groin is harder to ignore, and he stares resolutely at Veronica’s beaming face, doing his best to forget about sex and high heels and the smell of her skin when it’s flushed with heat.
Seems he’s fighting a lot of losing battles lately.
Finally it’s over, everyone from A to Z having waltzed across the stage to various degrees of applause, and he and Michael get to their feet, stretching stiff legs and numb butts that have already spent several hours on a too-small plane seat. The courtyard is suddenly a swarming sea of humanity, and he looks at his brother with a frown. “What now?”
Michael pulls off his cap and runs his hand over his head, then tugs the cap back over his eyes. “Now we find her before her father does.”
Lincoln’s hand shoots out, gripping his brother by the arm as he turns to file out of their row of seats. “What?”
Michael sighs loudly. “She asked me not to tell you because she knew you wouldn’t come if you knew Thomas was going to be here.”
They stare at each other while Lincoln bites back several choice words. The notion of being shut out bothers him a hell of a lot more than he wants to admit. “Damn straight,” he finally mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why the hell did she invite him?”
“He’s her father, Linc.”
Lincoln scowls as they begin to shuffle out into the open area beside the rows of seats. “He’s a drunken lowlife.”
“Maybe she wants to prove something to him.” Michael gives him a quick, unreadable glance over his shoulder. “Did you think of that?”
“She’s worth a thousand of him and she always has been,” he shoots back, and Michael’s gaze narrows.
“Are we still talking about her father, or is this you beating yourself up again?”
Lincoln scowls as they make their way through the crowd. “Don’t start that shit up again.”
“She wanted you to be here, Linc,” Michel points out in a carefully even voice. “Maybe you should wait until you see her before you start making assumptions about how she feels about you.” Without waiting for a reply, Michael stops and scans the crowd once more, and Lincoln has to pull up short to stop himself from smacking into his brother’s shoulder.
“I got another woman pregnant two months after she went away to Illinois,” Lincoln says darkly. “I’m pretty sure I know how Vee feels about me.”
Michael studies him for a moment. “You and Vee weren’t actually together when that happened, right?”
“No, we’d sorta decided to see other people while she was away, but-”
“But what?”
Lincoln looks at his younger brother and reminds himself that having a high IQ doesn’t always mean you understand how the world works. “And you’re supposed to be the genius in the family,” he says with a wry smile. Wishing Michael had thought to start up this conversation while they were on the plane, sitting in air-conditioned comfort, he tugs irritably at the lapels of his jacket. “Seeing other people and getting another woman pregnant are two very different things, Michael.”
“I know.” To his surprise, Michael pats him awkwardly on the shoulder, then his face breaks into a wide grin. “Found her.”
The crowd suddenly seems to part before them and she’s there, smiling and happy. He can only hope she’s happy to see them. She heads straight for Michael, and Lincoln watches with barely disguised envy as the two of them share an easy embrace. “The outfit’s a little big,” Michael says teasingly as he pulls away, nodding at the baggy gown that swamps Vee’s slight frame. “But the colour suits you.”
She grins. “It goes with your cap,” she volleys back playfully, then seems to take a deep breath as she turns to Lincoln.
“Hey.”
Hastily pulling off his sunglasses, he gives her a smile he hopes to hell doesn’t look as sheepish as it feels. “Hey.”
As far as their first face-to-face meeting in a year goes, it’s not exactly an encouraging start.
“Michael’s right,” he adds quickly. “You look good, Vee.”
A hint of colour stains her carefully made-up face. “Thank you. So do you.” She looks him up and down, her lipsticked mouth curved in a smirk. “A jacket and polished shoes. I’m impressed.” She lifts her eyes to his, and the impact of her direct gaze almost has him taking a step backward.
God, he’s missed her. Until this moment, he hadn’t realised how much of a gaping hole her absence has left in his life, and he moves toward her now without another second thought, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “I’m real proud of you.”
“Thanks.” She leans into him without hesitation, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, one arm sliding around his waist. “I’m glad you came.”
“Hey Ronnie, want me to take a picture of you with your family?” A willowy blonde classmate of Veronica’s has stopped beside them, her gaze sweeping over them before fixing on Michael with a faintly predatory gleam. “So you can all be in the shot together?”
Lincoln smirks down at Veronica. “What do you say, Ronnie?” The jibe earns him a gentle punch to the stomach, and he can’t help thinking he’d insult her again in a heartbeat if it meant she’d keep touching him.
“Thanks, Kirstin, that would be great.” Veronica produces an impossibly small camera from the depths of her gown and hands it to the other girl. “It’s auto focus, so just point and shoot.”
Kirstin smiles at Michael, who looks as though he’s fighting the urge to shuffle his feet. “I think I can manage that.”
As the blonde lifts the camera to her face, Lincoln tightens his arm around Vee’s shoulder, pulling her closer. “Smile for the birdie, Ronnie” he quips lamely, and she chuckles, tilting back her head as she grins at her classmate.
Lincoln and Veronica spend the next few minutes watching Michael politely deflect at least ten different opening lines from their friendly photographer. When Kirstin smilingly admits defeat and sashays into the crowd, Michael practically breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, you blew that one,” Vee tells him, but he only shrugs.
“Not really my type.”
Lincoln chuckles. “Michael doesn’t like blondes.”
He and Veronica laugh together, which feels a lot better than maybe it should, and Michael gives them both an injured look. “How do you know what I like?”
“Name me one blonde you’ve dated.”
Michael opens his mouth, then shuts it again, and Lincoln claps his brother on the back. “Exactly.”
Veronica glances at Michael, then at him, her smiling suddenly looking a little forced. “Uh, my dad is here somewhere.”
Lincoln blinks. He’d been so distracted by being in her company again he’d managed to forget that unpleasant detail. “Did he fly down?”
She shrugs, her gaze dropping to the scrolled paper in her hand. “I gave him some money towards a plane ticket,” she says in a clipped voice. “So I guess he did.”
Lincoln bites his tongue with an effort, but he knows they’re all thinking the same thing. Yeah, right.
Michael has started scanning the crowd once more, obviously looking for Thomas Donovan. “You haven’t seen him yet?”
“He said he’d find me after the ceremony.” Lifting her head, she gives Lincoln a faintly pleading look. “Please be nice.”
He holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s not me you have to worry about.”
“Vee, I think I see your dad.”
Veronica stands on tiptoe at Michael’s words, following the line of his pointing finger. “Oh God, he’s talking to the Dean.” Her face pale and tense, she glances at them both in turn. “I’ll be right back.”
Already dreading what he knows is going to happen, Lincoln gives her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be here.”
She darts away through the crowd, and Michael turns to look at him. “This isn’t going to go well, is it?”
Lincoln grimaces. “Probably not, no.”
It doesn’t.
Thomas Donovan is dressed in a twenty-year old suit and a new tie. He’s also drunk, his speech artificially precise, his pale blue gaze fading in and out of focus. He barely spares Michael a glance before looking Lincoln up and down with familiar disdain. Given the terms of their last meeting - a bitter argument over LJ that almost saw them come to blows - Lincoln is hardly surprised. “So this is why your aunt and uncle couldn’t come,” he says to his daughter, whose face tightens.
“No, they couldn’t come because I didn’t want them to come,” Veronica fires back through gritted teeth. “I thought it would be more fun to have people here who actually gave a damn about me.”
Lincoln bites his tongue again, while Michael looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Thomas Donovan stares at Lincoln for a few seconds more, then turns to his daughter with a smile that doesn’t go anywhere near his eyes. “So you got your fancy piece of paper.”
“Yes.” Veronica’s voice is hollow, and Lincoln feels his hands curl into tight fists at his sides. He wants very much to move to stand beside her, but he knows it will only make things worse.
Her father sways slightly on his feet as he gestures to the diploma in her hand. “That thing doesn’t make you a lawyer, you know. You gotta earn that title.”
Veronica’s eyes are glittering now. “I know.”
Lincoln steps forward, shrugging off Michael’s retraining hand. “Thomas?”
“What?”
“How about letting your daughter know you’re proud of her?”
Veronica’s father’s gaze narrows. “Are you trying to tell me how to talk to my daughter?”
He knows the older man is operating under the influence, but Lincoln doesn’t bother hiding his contempt. “Yeah, because it’s obvious you don’t have the first clue about how to do it right.”
Thomas Donovan turns to his daughter. “You want some fatherly advice, do ya?” He stabs his finger through the air at Lincoln. “You hang out with losers long enough and you’ll never be anything but a loser. Best thing you ever did was to dump this one’s ass.”
It’s as though someone gives him an invisible push in the back. Lincoln steps towards him, his hands itching with the urge to cram those words back in the old drunk’s mouth. Veronica immediately moves to stand between them, just like she’s been doing since she was ten years old. Putting one hand on Lincoln’s arm, she looks at her father. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“Place over on Stanley Street.” Thomas Donovan is swaying on his feet badly now, his eyes glassy. “Might have to sit for a while before we eat,” he says thickly. “This goddamned heat’s got to me.”
As Veronica swiftly urges him towards the nearest plastic chair, Lincoln looks at Michael. “It’s going very well, don’t you think?”
Michael’s expression is pained. “Fantastic.”
Veronica pulls off her mortar board cap as she walks back to them, running an agitated hand through her hair. “I’m sorry about that,” she says in a tight, small voice, and Lincoln reaches out to take her hand, secure in the knowledge that her father is practically asleep in his chair.
“Don’t you ever think you have to apologise for him to us, Vee.” He holds her gaze with his, not letting her look away. “Ever.”
Her small hand tightens around his, her eyes soft and filled with a sudden wealth of emotion that makes his gut turn inside out. “Do you guys want to take a look around the campus for a while?” She glances over her shoulder at her father, then back at them. “I need to get him back to his hotel so he can sleep it off. I’ll meet you as soon as I can.” Her hopeful expression makes Lincoln’s heart twist. “We can grab a drink, or maybe some dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Michael says with a broad grin, obviously relieved to be on safer conversational ground. “We actually only came down here for the Texan barbecue.”
She laughs, the tension in her face easing, and Lincoln releases her hand, torn between the urge to whisk her away this instant and the knowledge she needs to see her father safely to his hotel. “Are you sure you don’t want us to help you get him to his hotel?”
She shakes her head. “The only way this could turn out worse is if he woke up while you were tucking him into bed.”
He grins. “Call and let me know what’s happening, okay? I’ve got my cell on me.” He gives her a pointed look. “Unless you’ve forgotten the number, that is.”
She shoots him a stern look that’s somewhat spoiled by the smile playing about her bright red lips. “Smartass.”
He watches as she guides her father across the courtyard, her dark head barely reaching his shoulder, and is once again swamped by the sensation of having found the huge chunk of something missing from his life. He turns to Michael, who is watching him with a decidedly smug expression. “What?”
His brother smirks. “If you two want to be alone tonight, just let me know.”
Lincoln flushes, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, trying not to let it show that the thought of being alone with Veronica fills him with both anticipation and a dulled sense of terror. “Thanks for the offer, man, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
Michael raises one eyebrow, his smirk still firmly fixed in place. “We’ll see.”
~*~
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters/Pairing: Lincoln Burrows/Veronica Donovan, Michael Scofield
Genre: Het, pre-series
Length: 3,380 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary:That's the problem with epiphanies; you never know when to expect them.
Author's Note:For domfangirl, who really wanted some Lincoln/Veronica that she didn't have to write herself. *winks* I hope you had a wonderful day on Friday, and I promise the second half of this story will be finished by your next birthday. *g* Many thanks to wrldpossiblity for pointing out a sleep-deprived author's typos and to everyone who helped me to understand the American graduation ceremony a little better. This story contains a huge amount of supposition and speculation re ages and pre-series canon which should be taken with a grain of fangirl salt, and is set in the Full Circle universe.
~*~
Looking back, he should have known Michael was working his way up to dropping a mini-bombshell. He doesn’t argue over which pizzas to order, he doesn’t turn his nose up at Lincoln’s choice of beer, and he doesn’t wince at the Journey CD blaring from the stereo in the next room.
It takes until halfway through dinner, but finally his brother takes an audible breath and eyeballs him across the table. “Vee called me today.”
“Yeah?” Lincoln tries to look as though he doesn’t care his own phone has been devoid of calls from Vee for over six months. “How is she?”
“She’s good.” His brother snags another piece of pizza from the box on the table between them, placing it carefully on his plate rather than taking a bite. “She’s graduating in two weeks.”
“Uh huh.”
“That’s why she called.” Michael gazes at him steadily. “She wants us to come.”
The pepperoni pizza he’d been enjoying suddenly turns to tasteless glue on his tongue. “Right.” He swallows hard, not meeting Michael’s eyes. “I guess she couldn’t think of anyone else to invite.” Michael says nothing. Sighing, Lincoln reluctantly lifts his gaze to his brother’s face. “She really wants us to come to Baylor?”
“Yes.”
“In Texas?”
“Yes.”
“Both of us?”
Michael gives him a long-suffering look. “Yes.”
Lincoln stares down at the half-eaten pizza on his plate. He might not have gone to college, but he knows how it works. It’s not as though students can invite as many people as they like to the graduation ceremony, and the thought that Veronica has chosen them - chosen him - over everyone else she knows is a little overwhelming.
He looks across the table, the unspoken hope in his brother’s eyes confirming what he already knows. This is something they need to do, as much for Vee as for themselves. He frowns, mentally flicking through the logistics. “We’d have to stay at least one night there, I suppose-”
“I can take care of the hotel booking.” As usual, his brother is quick to take the planning into his own hands, and Lincoln wonders if he’s already started making enquiries. Feeling outmaneuvered on two fronts, he gives up, knowing that objecting would only be fighting a losing battle.
“I guess this means we’re going on a road trip.”
“I thought we might fly, actually.” Michael hesitates, then confirms Lincoln’s earlier suspicion that he’d already started researching travel arrangements. “I don't want to have to miss too many shifts at the shelter, and the airfares aren’t that bad.”
Lincoln does his best not to wince. Finding the cash for even the cheapest airfare will take some doing, but he’s not in the mood for yet another argument over money. “Works for me.”
“Great.” Michael flashes him a quick grin, something that seems to happen less and less these days, Lincoln realises with a pang. “You can buy a new tie with the money we save on the tickets.”
Lincoln snorts. He’s never taken fashion advice from someone who insists on wearing a baseball cap with everything, and he sees no reason to start now. “Yeah, right,” he mutters as he reaches for his beer. “Dream on, man.”
~*~
Waco in May is hot. Stinking hot, in fact.
Shifting restlessly on the hard plastic seat, Lincoln scowls as he plucks at the lapels of the black jacket Michael had insisted he wear. And to think he assumed he was getting off easy by not wearing a tie, he thinks sourly, feeling a yet another bead of sweat trail down his spine.
Beside him, Michael looks irritatingly comfortable in a long-sleeved shirt and tie, topped off by his ever-present baseball cap. He’s been quiet, almost pensive, ever since they arrived on campus, and Lincoln wonders if he’s thinking about the day when he’ll finally graduate from Loyola.
“Don’t know why she had to go to school all the way out here,” Lincoln mutters, the hot sun making him feel as though he’s been awake for forty-eight hours straight. “Why didn’t she just do her law degree at Illinois?”
He's asked this question many times before, but he's never received the answer he wants to hear. Scanning the crowd of gown-clad graduates gathering to their right, Michael doesn’t look at him as he replies. “Maybe she wanted to get away for a while.”
It looks like today's answer isn't going to be the one he wants to hear, either. Lincoln shoves his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose with an irritated finger. “Away from me, you mean?”
Michael’s shrug is non-committal. “From a lot of things, I think.”
Lincoln slouches down in his chair, thinking of everything Veronica had left behind in Chicago when she’d moved to Texas. A deadbeat father, a tiny off-campus apartment with suspect electrical wiring, and an ex-boyfriend who’d fathered a child to someone else two seconds after she’d gone away to college the first time around.
When he lets himself think about it like that, he’d be surprised if she ever came back.
“There she is,” Michael suddenly announces, and Lincoln finds himself sitting to attention, straining for his first glimpse of Veronica Donovan in over a year. It takes him less than five seconds to pick her out of the crowd, and the sight of her hits him like a punch to the gut.
She’s smiling at the female student beside her, the two of them laughingly comparing the too-long sleeves of their bright blue gowns. Her black hair is sleek and glossy, tumbling over her shoulders, her mouth a vivid splash of colour in her pale face. She looks calm and serious and beautiful and he’s suddenly very glad he let Michael talk him into shaving this morning.
The ceremony lasts - God help him - over two hours. Even with the distraction of watching Veronica to keep him occupied, it’s an effort not to fall into a stupor after the first twenty minutes’ worth of mind-numbingly boring speeches.
When they finally get around to handing out the diplomas and Veronica’s name is called, Michael puts his fingers to his lips and whistles loudly, making several heads turn. Veronica darts a quick, faintly embarrassed grin at the crowd, then walks across the stage to shake the dean’s hand. Beneath the hem of her gown, Lincoln sees the pale flash of her slender ankles, the black patent leather of her ridiculously high heels gleaming in the sunshine. He narrows his gaze, suddenly assailed by the memory of a pair of heels just like that digging into the small of his back, Veronica’s short skirt bunched high around her thighs, her arms wrapped tight around his neck.
Fuck.
A fresh prickle of sweat breaks out on his forehead, and he swipes the back of his hand across his damp skin. The sudden ache in his groin is harder to ignore, and he stares resolutely at Veronica’s beaming face, doing his best to forget about sex and high heels and the smell of her skin when it’s flushed with heat.
Seems he’s fighting a lot of losing battles lately.
Finally it’s over, everyone from A to Z having waltzed across the stage to various degrees of applause, and he and Michael get to their feet, stretching stiff legs and numb butts that have already spent several hours on a too-small plane seat. The courtyard is suddenly a swarming sea of humanity, and he looks at his brother with a frown. “What now?”
Michael pulls off his cap and runs his hand over his head, then tugs the cap back over his eyes. “Now we find her before her father does.”
Lincoln’s hand shoots out, gripping his brother by the arm as he turns to file out of their row of seats. “What?”
Michael sighs loudly. “She asked me not to tell you because she knew you wouldn’t come if you knew Thomas was going to be here.”
They stare at each other while Lincoln bites back several choice words. The notion of being shut out bothers him a hell of a lot more than he wants to admit. “Damn straight,” he finally mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why the hell did she invite him?”
“He’s her father, Linc.”
Lincoln scowls as they begin to shuffle out into the open area beside the rows of seats. “He’s a drunken lowlife.”
“Maybe she wants to prove something to him.” Michael gives him a quick, unreadable glance over his shoulder. “Did you think of that?”
“She’s worth a thousand of him and she always has been,” he shoots back, and Michael’s gaze narrows.
“Are we still talking about her father, or is this you beating yourself up again?”
Lincoln scowls as they make their way through the crowd. “Don’t start that shit up again.”
“She wanted you to be here, Linc,” Michel points out in a carefully even voice. “Maybe you should wait until you see her before you start making assumptions about how she feels about you.” Without waiting for a reply, Michael stops and scans the crowd once more, and Lincoln has to pull up short to stop himself from smacking into his brother’s shoulder.
“I got another woman pregnant two months after she went away to Illinois,” Lincoln says darkly. “I’m pretty sure I know how Vee feels about me.”
Michael studies him for a moment. “You and Vee weren’t actually together when that happened, right?”
“No, we’d sorta decided to see other people while she was away, but-”
“But what?”
Lincoln looks at his younger brother and reminds himself that having a high IQ doesn’t always mean you understand how the world works. “And you’re supposed to be the genius in the family,” he says with a wry smile. Wishing Michael had thought to start up this conversation while they were on the plane, sitting in air-conditioned comfort, he tugs irritably at the lapels of his jacket. “Seeing other people and getting another woman pregnant are two very different things, Michael.”
“I know.” To his surprise, Michael pats him awkwardly on the shoulder, then his face breaks into a wide grin. “Found her.”
The crowd suddenly seems to part before them and she’s there, smiling and happy. He can only hope she’s happy to see them. She heads straight for Michael, and Lincoln watches with barely disguised envy as the two of them share an easy embrace. “The outfit’s a little big,” Michael says teasingly as he pulls away, nodding at the baggy gown that swamps Vee’s slight frame. “But the colour suits you.”
She grins. “It goes with your cap,” she volleys back playfully, then seems to take a deep breath as she turns to Lincoln.
“Hey.”
Hastily pulling off his sunglasses, he gives her a smile he hopes to hell doesn’t look as sheepish as it feels. “Hey.”
As far as their first face-to-face meeting in a year goes, it’s not exactly an encouraging start.
“Michael’s right,” he adds quickly. “You look good, Vee.”
A hint of colour stains her carefully made-up face. “Thank you. So do you.” She looks him up and down, her lipsticked mouth curved in a smirk. “A jacket and polished shoes. I’m impressed.” She lifts her eyes to his, and the impact of her direct gaze almost has him taking a step backward.
God, he’s missed her. Until this moment, he hadn’t realised how much of a gaping hole her absence has left in his life, and he moves toward her now without another second thought, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “I’m real proud of you.”
“Thanks.” She leans into him without hesitation, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, one arm sliding around his waist. “I’m glad you came.”
“Hey Ronnie, want me to take a picture of you with your family?” A willowy blonde classmate of Veronica’s has stopped beside them, her gaze sweeping over them before fixing on Michael with a faintly predatory gleam. “So you can all be in the shot together?”
Lincoln smirks down at Veronica. “What do you say, Ronnie?” The jibe earns him a gentle punch to the stomach, and he can’t help thinking he’d insult her again in a heartbeat if it meant she’d keep touching him.
“Thanks, Kirstin, that would be great.” Veronica produces an impossibly small camera from the depths of her gown and hands it to the other girl. “It’s auto focus, so just point and shoot.”
Kirstin smiles at Michael, who looks as though he’s fighting the urge to shuffle his feet. “I think I can manage that.”
As the blonde lifts the camera to her face, Lincoln tightens his arm around Vee’s shoulder, pulling her closer. “Smile for the birdie, Ronnie” he quips lamely, and she chuckles, tilting back her head as she grins at her classmate.
Lincoln and Veronica spend the next few minutes watching Michael politely deflect at least ten different opening lines from their friendly photographer. When Kirstin smilingly admits defeat and sashays into the crowd, Michael practically breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, you blew that one,” Vee tells him, but he only shrugs.
“Not really my type.”
Lincoln chuckles. “Michael doesn’t like blondes.”
He and Veronica laugh together, which feels a lot better than maybe it should, and Michael gives them both an injured look. “How do you know what I like?”
“Name me one blonde you’ve dated.”
Michael opens his mouth, then shuts it again, and Lincoln claps his brother on the back. “Exactly.”
Veronica glances at Michael, then at him, her smiling suddenly looking a little forced. “Uh, my dad is here somewhere.”
Lincoln blinks. He’d been so distracted by being in her company again he’d managed to forget that unpleasant detail. “Did he fly down?”
She shrugs, her gaze dropping to the scrolled paper in her hand. “I gave him some money towards a plane ticket,” she says in a clipped voice. “So I guess he did.”
Lincoln bites his tongue with an effort, but he knows they’re all thinking the same thing. Yeah, right.
Michael has started scanning the crowd once more, obviously looking for Thomas Donovan. “You haven’t seen him yet?”
“He said he’d find me after the ceremony.” Lifting her head, she gives Lincoln a faintly pleading look. “Please be nice.”
He holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s not me you have to worry about.”
“Vee, I think I see your dad.”
Veronica stands on tiptoe at Michael’s words, following the line of his pointing finger. “Oh God, he’s talking to the Dean.” Her face pale and tense, she glances at them both in turn. “I’ll be right back.”
Already dreading what he knows is going to happen, Lincoln gives her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be here.”
She darts away through the crowd, and Michael turns to look at him. “This isn’t going to go well, is it?”
Lincoln grimaces. “Probably not, no.”
It doesn’t.
Thomas Donovan is dressed in a twenty-year old suit and a new tie. He’s also drunk, his speech artificially precise, his pale blue gaze fading in and out of focus. He barely spares Michael a glance before looking Lincoln up and down with familiar disdain. Given the terms of their last meeting - a bitter argument over LJ that almost saw them come to blows - Lincoln is hardly surprised. “So this is why your aunt and uncle couldn’t come,” he says to his daughter, whose face tightens.
“No, they couldn’t come because I didn’t want them to come,” Veronica fires back through gritted teeth. “I thought it would be more fun to have people here who actually gave a damn about me.”
Lincoln bites his tongue again, while Michael looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Thomas Donovan stares at Lincoln for a few seconds more, then turns to his daughter with a smile that doesn’t go anywhere near his eyes. “So you got your fancy piece of paper.”
“Yes.” Veronica’s voice is hollow, and Lincoln feels his hands curl into tight fists at his sides. He wants very much to move to stand beside her, but he knows it will only make things worse.
Her father sways slightly on his feet as he gestures to the diploma in her hand. “That thing doesn’t make you a lawyer, you know. You gotta earn that title.”
Veronica’s eyes are glittering now. “I know.”
Lincoln steps forward, shrugging off Michael’s retraining hand. “Thomas?”
“What?”
“How about letting your daughter know you’re proud of her?”
Veronica’s father’s gaze narrows. “Are you trying to tell me how to talk to my daughter?”
He knows the older man is operating under the influence, but Lincoln doesn’t bother hiding his contempt. “Yeah, because it’s obvious you don’t have the first clue about how to do it right.”
Thomas Donovan turns to his daughter. “You want some fatherly advice, do ya?” He stabs his finger through the air at Lincoln. “You hang out with losers long enough and you’ll never be anything but a loser. Best thing you ever did was to dump this one’s ass.”
It’s as though someone gives him an invisible push in the back. Lincoln steps towards him, his hands itching with the urge to cram those words back in the old drunk’s mouth. Veronica immediately moves to stand between them, just like she’s been doing since she was ten years old. Putting one hand on Lincoln’s arm, she looks at her father. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“Place over on Stanley Street.” Thomas Donovan is swaying on his feet badly now, his eyes glassy. “Might have to sit for a while before we eat,” he says thickly. “This goddamned heat’s got to me.”
As Veronica swiftly urges him towards the nearest plastic chair, Lincoln looks at Michael. “It’s going very well, don’t you think?”
Michael’s expression is pained. “Fantastic.”
Veronica pulls off her mortar board cap as she walks back to them, running an agitated hand through her hair. “I’m sorry about that,” she says in a tight, small voice, and Lincoln reaches out to take her hand, secure in the knowledge that her father is practically asleep in his chair.
“Don’t you ever think you have to apologise for him to us, Vee.” He holds her gaze with his, not letting her look away. “Ever.”
Her small hand tightens around his, her eyes soft and filled with a sudden wealth of emotion that makes his gut turn inside out. “Do you guys want to take a look around the campus for a while?” She glances over her shoulder at her father, then back at them. “I need to get him back to his hotel so he can sleep it off. I’ll meet you as soon as I can.” Her hopeful expression makes Lincoln’s heart twist. “We can grab a drink, or maybe some dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Michael says with a broad grin, obviously relieved to be on safer conversational ground. “We actually only came down here for the Texan barbecue.”
She laughs, the tension in her face easing, and Lincoln releases her hand, torn between the urge to whisk her away this instant and the knowledge she needs to see her father safely to his hotel. “Are you sure you don’t want us to help you get him to his hotel?”
She shakes her head. “The only way this could turn out worse is if he woke up while you were tucking him into bed.”
He grins. “Call and let me know what’s happening, okay? I’ve got my cell on me.” He gives her a pointed look. “Unless you’ve forgotten the number, that is.”
She shoots him a stern look that’s somewhat spoiled by the smile playing about her bright red lips. “Smartass.”
He watches as she guides her father across the courtyard, her dark head barely reaching his shoulder, and is once again swamped by the sensation of having found the huge chunk of something missing from his life. He turns to Michael, who is watching him with a decidedly smug expression. “What?”
His brother smirks. “If you two want to be alone tonight, just let me know.”
Lincoln flushes, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, trying not to let it show that the thought of being alone with Veronica fills him with both anticipation and a dulled sense of terror. “Thanks for the offer, man, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
Michael raises one eyebrow, his smirk still firmly fixed in place. “We’ll see.”
~*~