Epiphany - Lincoln/Veronica (NC-17)
Title: Epiphany (3/3)
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters/Pairing: Lincoln Burrows/Veronica Donovan, Michael Scofield
Genre: Het, pre-series
Length: 5,366 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary: That's the problem with epiphanies; you never know when to expect them.
Author's Note: Finally, the last installment of domfangirl's birthday fic. Please forgive me for taking so long! I have no excuse other than being completely distracted by the SWC news. *g* Forgive me? This story is set in the Full Circle universe and takes place before, during and after Veronica's graduation. This chapter contains dialogue from #102, "Allen" that certainly wasn't written by me. Thanks to sarah_scribbles for the once-over, any mistakes that remain are all mine. You can read Chapter One of this story here, while Chapter Two is here.
~*~
After what feels like an eternity, he feels her small hand on his cheek, her fingertips stroking his jaw. “I’d forgotten,” she murmurs wistfully, her palm warm against his cheek.
He brushes the hair back from her damp forehead. “Forgotten what?”
She smiles at him, and it suddenly feels as though the last six years have just fallen away. “How good it was."
Maybe those four little words shouldn’t make him feel as though she’s just handed him a winning lottery ticket, but they do. “Listen, Vee?”
Her fingertips trailing lazily up and down his chest, she gives him a sleepy glance. “Hmmm?”
He takes a deep breath, buoyed by the certainty that this is right. “I love you.”
“I know,” she chuckles softly, her bare thigh sliding across his as she lifts her face to his, her breath warm as she whispers the words against his mouth. “I love you too.”
He kisses her, swallowing the last word from her tongue as his hands bury themselves in her silky hair. “I can’t wait for you to come home,” he murmurs when they come up for air. “We can make this work, Vee. I know it.”
“Linc-” She sighs into the kiss, her fingertips fluttering over his jaw, then she slowly pulls away, her eyes searching his. “It’s going to take me a few weeks to wrap up everything up here,” she says in a casual voice that doesn’t quite hit its mark, and he suddenly wonders if he’s been taking too much for granted, just like he always does when it comes to her. He thinks of her whispering to him about being on the pill, and a cold ripple of apprehension washes over him.
“You seeing someone out here?” He does his best to sound as though one particular answer isn’t going to rip out his guts, but he’s not sure how well he succeeds.
“No.” She doesn’t flush or look away, meeting his gaze steadily. “Not exactly, anyway,” she says slowly, then shrugs. “You know what college is like.”
He gives her a look. “I didn’t go to college, remember?” She bites her bottom lip at his sour drawl, and he immediately regrets giving into the instinctive urge to keep score of old grudges and ancient fucking history. “Sorry.”
She studies him for a few seconds, then shifts closer, her chin resting on his chest, just above his heart. “It’s okay.” After pressing a lingering kiss to his bare chest, she lifts her head and gives him a slow smile. “I guess we should make ourselves respectable. Wouldn’t want to shock your little brother.”
“Yeah, well.” Lincoln grins, remembering how his little brother had been eyeing off that engineering chick in the bar. “I don’t know how easily shocked he is these days.”
~*~
They make their way back to the bar slowly, and with every step the feel of Vee’s hand gripping his makes him feel as though he could take on dozens of drunken lowlifes like her father without breaking a sweat. Speaking of which -
“What’s your dad think about you coming back to Chicago?”
She frowns at the flashing toes of her patent leather heels. “He flip flops between telling me not to think I can just waltz back into his home and complaining that he won’t see enough of me if I take a lease on a new apartment uptown.”
He can almost feel his back teeth grinding. “Sounds like Thomas.”
“Some things never change.” She blows out a loud breath, and he doesn’t have to look at her face to know she’s frustrated. He does look, though, because it’s been too fucking long since he was able to turn his head and see her at his side.
“It’ll work out okay,” he tells her with a confidence he’s pretty sure he’ll actually feel as soon as she’s really back in Chicago and he knows it’s not just some pipe dream.
She flashes him a smile. “I hope so.”
The bar is even more crowded than it was when they’d left an hour or so ago, and it takes them almost half an hour to determine that Michael is nowhere to be seen. “Where the hell would he go?” Lincoln stares at the spot where he’d last seen his brother, a familiar guilt gnawing at him, a burning twitch at the back of his neck that makes him want to loosen his collar even more than it already is.
Veronica is biting her bottom lip, her fingers nervously tapping against her thigh. “Maybe he ran into some friends.”
“How could he? He doesn’t know anyone in Texas, let alone Waco.”
“Excuse me, are you Lincoln Burrows?” He and Veronica turn in unison at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, finding themselves staring at one of the female bar attendants who’d served them earlier that evening.
“Yeah.”
The blonde girl holds out a small piece of paper. “Your brother left this for you.”
Lincoln blinks, then automatically reaches for the neatly folded note. “Anyone else would have scribbled something on a coaster,” he mutters to himself, then quickly scans the familiar handwriting.
Gone for a coffee with Lucy. See you back at the hotel.
A slow smile creasing his face, Lincoln shakes his head in unexpected admiration. “Son of a bitch.”
Veronica is trying to peer over his shoulder, her hand tugging gently at his sleeve. “What is it? Is everything okay?”
“Michael’s gone for coffee with that girl.” Lincoln remembers his manners long enough to give the bar attendant a smile. “Thanks, uh -” his gaze drops to her pocket, searching for a nametag, but she’s not wearing one and he realizes too late it looks as though he’s staring at her breasts. “Uh, thanks,” he finishes awkwardly, and she gives him a smiling nod.
“No problem.”
She makes her way back towards the bar, and Lincoln realises she must have been keeping watch for them. Wondering how much of a tip Michael had slipped her - or maybe he’d just smiled at her the right way, he thinks with more than a trace of envy - he turns back to Veronica. “So. What do you want to do now?”
She smirks, curling her hands around his arm, the curve of her breast soft against his bicep. “It’s the strangest thing, but I’m suddenly starving.” She looks around the crowded bar, then back at home. “Want to go somewhere quiet and grab something to eat?”
He brushes aside the thought of the dwindling stash of notes in his wallet, preferring to dwell on the happy fact she’s not ready to say goodnight either. “Works for me.”
Three hours later - hours that go past all too quickly as they huddle at a corner table of a Chinese café, drinking tea and surreptitiously touching each other as much as the bright lighting overhead allows - there’s no avoiding the fact their time together is up. Vee is still living on campus with a roommate who definitely wouldn’t appreciate an overnight guest, and Lincoln’s sleeping arrangements are hardly any more flexible.
When he finally forces himself to ask for the check, Vee is digging in her purse and pressing a couple of bills into his hand before he has the chance to protest. When he opens his mouth to speak, she cuts him off with a determined smile. “You and Michael flew all the way out here to see me,” she drawls. “Don’t you dare tell me I can’t chip in for dinner.”
He knows he should argue with her, but he also knows he barely has enough cash left to fill his car with gas once he gets back to Chicago. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When the staff have swept the place out, stacked chairs and turned off half the lights in the place, he knows he has to admit defeat. “I guess we should call it a night.”
Her hand tightens on his knee, sending a rush of heat that seems to hit his groin and his heart at the same time. “I guess.”
Outside in the warm night air, he suddenly feels ridiculously awkward. “Can I walk you back to the dorm?”
She smiles, her vivid eyes sparkling. “You want to carry my books, too?”
Grinning, he slips his arm around her slender shoulders, relishing the feel of her tucked into his side. “I would if you had any.”
She leans into him as they begin to walk, matching her shorter stride to his. “I know.”
They manage to find every shadow and private doorway along the path of their journey, and it takes them almost forty minutes to reach the campus. He’s as hard as a rock once again by the time they reach the security gates, but he doesn’t hesitate to make matters worse by giving her a goodnight kiss that leaves them both breathless, fingers digging into each other’s shoulders and hips. “When will I see you again?”
“Three weeks, I promise,” she mutters against his chest, her mouth hot on his skin bared by the loosened collar of his shirt. He seems to have lost his jacket somewhere between the hotel and here, and he couldn’t give a fuck. “I’ll call you as soon as I arrive.”
He wraps his arms around her, suddenly feeling as though it’s too soon to let her walk away, that he hasn’t had time to make sure they’re both on the same page. “I could pick you up from the airport,” he offers, but she shakes her head, the sleek darkness of her hair brushing against his chin.
“It’ll be on a weekday, and I don’t want to take you away from work.”
He doesn’t tell her he barely managed to swing the two personal days he needed to be here with her now, nor does he mention the fact that he’s not sure he’ll still be in the same job by the time she gets back to Chicago. Now is not the moment to talk about how he's skating on thin ice when it comes to office politics, not when she’s looking at him as though she still can’t believe he’s here with her. “You’re too good to me,” he says with a smile, a teasing retort he suspects they both know is entirely too true.
She smiles, then kisses him one last time, her mouth soft and warm, stepping backwards only when his pulse rate is off the scale. “Call me whenever you want, okay?”
He nods, fighting the unexpected urge to put his hand to his mouth, to try and trap the taste of her on his lips. “I will.”
He watches her go, waiting until she waves and vanishes from his sight before he even lets himself blink. Three weeks, he thinks with a slow smile. In three weeks, everything will be back the way it should be. Casting one last look at the last spot he’d seen her, he shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to walk back to the hotel.
His head is filled with the thought of her, but that doesn’t stop him wondering if he’s going to find Michael in their hotel room or if he’s going to have to start searching all the late-night coffee places in Waco. He tells himself Michael is twenty-one years old and not an idiot, but they’re in a strange city and he’d only known that girl for ten minutes. The thought of something happening to Michael because he was too preoccupied with getting Vee into bed rises up in the back of his throat, burning his tongue like acid.
His question is answered as soon as he pushes open the hotel room door. The light in the small bathroom is on, and from behind the half-closed door, he hears the unmistakable sound of someone cleaning their teeth. “Are you alone in there, or do I have to come back later?”
Michael’s reply is muffled but unmistakably unimpressed. “Hilarious.”
He drops down onto his bed, smiling at the mental picture of Vee hastily straightening the covers after they’d dressed, saying something about not wanting to be a slob. Easing off his shoes, he pulls his dress shirt up and over his head, not bothering to undo the buttons. Whether it was all the walking or their horizontal exertion, he doesn’t know, but the hours with Vee have left him pleasantly exhausted.
The light in the bathroom is flicked off, and Michael strides across the small room, already dressed in his undershirt and boxers. Lincoln gives him an idle glance, then wrinkles his nose at the distinctly feminine scent trailing in his brother’s wake. He grins. “Nice perfume you’re wearing.”
There’s a pointed silence from the other bed, then Michael yawns loudly, his hands linked behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. “Thanks, I like it.”
Shaking his head, Lincoln gets to his feet and strips down to his own boxers, draping his trousers over the foot of the bed. “Had a big night, did we?”
Michael turns his head, one eyebrow quirked, the beginning of a knowing smile curing his mouth. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
Lincoln knows he’s not going to get anything out of his brother tonight. He also knows he doesn’t want to talk about Vee, not to Michael, not tonight. Tonight he wants to curl his hands around the memory of their time alone and hold them tight against him, if only to convince himself he didn’t imagine it. “I think we should get some sleep.”
Michael snorts, then punches his pillow before rolling over to face the wall. “Works for me.”
~*~
There’s a message waiting for him at the front desk on his first day back at work, telling him to report to the manager’s office. A few minutes later, Lincoln is staring at his supervisor, struggling to keep his rising temper in check. “With all due respect, Mr. Kerr, I checked with Matthews before taking those personal days.”
His boss’ expression doesn’t change. "Matthews isn’t in a position to approve personal days, Burrows, and you know it.”
“It was an emergency, Mr. Kerr, and you weren’t here to ask.” Fuck only knows where the guy had been last week, Lincoln thinks sourly. His secretary had said he’d been away on business, but Lincoln suspects he’d spent much of the week on the golf course.
“The trouble is, Burrows, that this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a short cut around the rules to suit yourself.” The other man leans forward in his chair, his hands folded neatly on the desk in front of him. “If you can’t follow simple procedures like everyone else, then maybe this isn’t the right place for you.”
Lincoln blinks, feeling a familiar tightness encircling his ribs. “I’m sorry, are you firing me?”
“I just don’t think you and this company are a good fit. I’m sure you’d be happier elsewhere.” Kerr gives him a smile that is probably supposed to be sympathetic, a smile that Lincoln would very much like to smack with his fist. “You can pick up your final check from payroll.”
Lincoln says nothing, because there’s nothing to say. He’s been down this road before, and he knows no amount of protests or bad language will change the outcome. Turning on his heel, he slams the door of the office behind him as a parting gesture, vaguely registered the satisfying sound of his former employer’s loud objection. He would have liked to have put his fist through the glass panel in the door instead, but he needs that last paycheck, as measly as it’s going to be.
He drives home, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles begin to sting. He thinks of having to tell Michael he’s lost yet another job and his heart sinks. Then he thinks of trying to come up with the cash to meet the monthly repayments on his loan, and his stomach clenches in unpleasant protest. Veronica Donovan might be coming back to Chicago, but the rest of his life is still stuck in the same old cycle of suck that it always has been, and he’s suddenly afraid that nothing is ever going to change.
~*~
The next two weeks pass by in a blur of frantically searching the want ads and counting the days until his next payment to Crab Simmons is due. He’d signed on for unemployment as soon as he could, but he knows it’s still not going to be enough. He wakes up every morning, feeling as though someone is pressing down on his chest, filled with an unnamed feeling of dread that quickly becomes all too familiar.
On the day he’s supposed to visit one of Crab’s guys and hand over another two grand, he has twenty bucks in his wallet and even less in his bank account. Knowing the only thing worse than not paying up is going to ground, he steels himself to make the call to ask for more time.
It doesn’t go well.
The conversation is short and awkward, and Crab’s guy is non-committal, to say the least. “I’ll have to talk to Crab,” he announces, then he’s gone, leaving Lincoln with a dead phone line and a churning gut.
It’s Saturday. Michael is doing a shift at the shelter, and Lincoln is glad he doesn't have to explain any tense phone calls to his curious brother. He spends the next hour doing laundry and cleaning the apartment he and Michael probably won’t be sharing this time next year, anything to keep his mind from replaying the phone conversation with Crab’s goon. He thinks of LJ and how he’s supposed to take him to the park on Sunday, and wonders if he’ll have to turn up with a broken nose or a shattered kneecap. Dropping the tattered dishcloth into the sink, he stares unseeingly out the window at the blank brick wall of the apartment building next door. All he’d wanted was to make things better for them - all of them - but all he’s going to do is drag everyone else down with him.
God damn it.
When his phone rings, his heart begins to slam against his ribs. He approaches the phone as though it’s a live snake, waiting to rear up and strike. Swallowing hard, he takes a deep breath. “Yeah?”
The familiar lilt of Veronica’s voice floats across the phone line. “It’s me.”
His whole body slumps in relief. “Hey, how are you?”
“I’m home.”
He blinks. “What?” He finds himself looking at his watch, as if he didn’t already know the date by heart. “I didn’t think you’d be here until next week.”
“I managed to sort out everything a lot sooner than I thought.” He can hear the smile in her voice. “Plus, I had an ulterior motive for coming home sooner, remember?”
Despite his grim thoughts, he grins. “I hope so.”
She laughs softly. “Want to come see my new place?”
“That was quick.”
“One of my girlfriends here helped me find it while I was wrapping things up in Waco,” she tells him, and he can’t help wondering why she didn’t think to ask him to help her. “I signed the lease yesterday.”
Her excitement is infectious, and he finds himself pushing the thought of Crab Simmons from his head with surprising ease. “Give me the address and I’ll be there.”
~*~
She meets him at the front door with a hug and a brief but bruising kiss, her small hand encircling his wrist to tug him inside. “Do you want the tour?” she asks brightly, her wide mouth faintly pink from their kiss.
“Sure.” Sliding his arm around her, he pulls her closer, bending his head until his nose is almost touching hers. “Of course, if you wanted to start in the bedroom, that would be fine with me.”
He sees her smile, then her arms are winding around his neck and she’s kissing him, her mouth tasting of coffee and lip gloss. Sliding his hands down to cup her ass, he lifts her up against him, walking her backwards through the small apartment. “Second door on the right,” she murmurs against his mouth, her breath hot on his lips, and he doesn’t waste a another second on social niceties. Side-stepping the packing boxes that litter the floor, he finds her bedroom and her bed in record time.
Their time together in Texas had been an emotional reaffirmation of what lay between them, but this was something else. This is frantic and hard and a little desperate, clothes being flung onto the floor with clumsy haste, hands gripping hard enough to leave bruises on pale flesh. “God, I’ve missed you,” he growls into the crook of her neck, his hands filled with the delicious curves of her ass and her breasts, the heat between her legs cradling his aching cock.
“It’s only been two weeks,” she gasps as he pushes inside her, her thighs lifting around his hips, her fingernails sharp on his shoulders.
“Feels much longer,” he manages to say, then the rhythm of his hunger for her takes over, pounding through his blood, narrowing the world down to this bed and the feel over her beneath him. Her hands are cool on his hot skin, but the rest of her is warm, flushed with heat against him, her flesh tight and slick around his, and he feels as though his body might dissolve from the sheer pleasure of it.
Just like she did in Texas, she says his name when she comes, her face twisted in a mask of agonized delight, writhing beneath him as though she can never get close enough to him. When he abandons the struggle to hold himself back, his breath harsh in her ear as he thrusts into her one last time, he knows exactly how she feels.
~*~
“I can’t believe I’m here,” she says later, her voice thick with sleep. “College already feels so far away.”
He runs his hand down the length of her bare back, admiring the smattering of freckles that dot her pale skin. When they were younger, he was always tempted to play connect-the-dots. It seems he hasn’t grown out of the impulse, and he trails his finger from one to the next. “Next phase of your life, I guess.”
“You said it.” She stretches, her bare feet brushing against his calves, her shoulders shifting as she nuzzles her pillow. “The serious job hunting phase.”
His conscience twinges, reminding him he hasn’t told her about his job yet (or rather, the lack of one) but he smothers it. “You’ll do great. Any firm that doesn’t want you isn’t worth your time.”
“I don’t think I should put that on my resume,” she laughs softly, her feet lazily caressing his legs. “What about you?”
He holds his breath. “What about me?”
“How do you feel about all this?” Her voice has dropped to a hazy murmur, and he knows she’s on the brink of falling asleep. “Me being back.”
Pushing himself up on one elbow, he looks down at her, the silken mass of raven hair spilling over her pale shoulder. “I have a strange feeling. Don’t know how to explain it.” He hesitates, wondering if she’ll think he’s an idiot, then decides he doesn’t care. He wants so much to tell her all the things that have been building up inside him the whole time she’s been gone, and if she thinks he’s lost the plot, so be it. He leans closer, his nose twitching at the scent of her, all perfume and warm skin and sex. “You know, uh, my whole life. It’s usually been crazy, noisy, maddening, you know, in my head.” The only other person he’s ever said this to is Michael, and they haven’t talked like this for a long time. “But now it’s quiet.” He presses a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, touching his tongue to the smooth warmth of her skin. “It’s perfect.” He’s babbling now, he knows, but every word he says makes his heart feel lighter. “I’m glad you came back.”
She rolls over to face him, her knee sliding between his. “I thought about you the whole time.”
“You know -” he starts, then hesitates, realizing saying all this stuff was much easier when she wasn’t looking at him. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I know that.” If there was ever an understatement uttered in the universe, he thinks wryly, this was it. “But I’m gonna make it right.
She smiles, her eyes glittering. “I know you will.”
He kisses her, a soft touch of his mouth to hers that quickly becomes something sweet and deep, the taste of her filling up his senses, pushing aside everything dark and bitter in his head and his heart. I want to remember this, he thinks suddenly, and pulls away, gazing at her kiss-dazed face.
One glance at the nightstand confirms the fleeting impression of something he’d seen as he’d lowered her to bed, and he’s soon clutching her camera in his hand.
Her eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
He grins at her. “I wanna remember this.”
She shakes her head, laughing, ripping the pillow from behind her to hold it in front of her face. “No, no, no.”
He grabs the pillow with his free hand, trying to pull it down. He doesn’t know why this is so important, it just is, and he is not going to let her wriggle out of it. “Come on, come on. Vee. Please!”
Still laughing, she lets the pillow fall, and he knows he’s won. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he pulls her closer, holding the camera above them. One eye on the camera, he’s surprised by the touch of her hand on his face, then the soft warmth of her mouth on his. The flash of the camera flickers through his closed eyelids, and he feels her mouth curve into a smile against his.
“Thank God for digital cameras,” she mutters darkly, and his grin widens.
“Someone’s turned into a modest Southern belle.”
She punches him lightly on the arm, then slides her knee a little higher between his, high enough to make him suck in his breath. “You’ll have to reeducate me, then.”
~*~
They order pizza some time around eight o’clock - he tries to call Michael several times, but gets no answer - and eat it straight from the box while sitting on the couch. There’s no coffee table and the crate with her dishes is one of the many sitting on the kitchen floor. Catching his eye, she gives him a rueful smile. “I’ll finish unpacking tomorrow.”
“I’d help you out, but I’m seeing LJ tomorrow.”
Her smile doesn’t waver at the sound of his son’s name, and he thinks he might love her a little bit more for it. “How is he?”
“He’s great.” He wipes his greasy fingers on his napkin, then glances around him at piles of boxes. “I could help you out on Monday, if you like.”
She frowns. “Aren’t you working?”
Shit. “I’m not working there anymore.”
A flicker of disquiet ripples across the smooth surface of her expression, like a stone thrown into a still pond. “Oh.”
He pushes away his plate, his appetite vanishing. “The big boss wasn’t happy with me taking a few days personal leave a while back.”
Her gaze widens. “When you came to my graduation?”
He considers lying to spare her feelings, then decides he’d rather be as honest with her as possible. “Yeah.”
Her face falls. “God, Lincoln, I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault.” He shrugs, closing the lid of the pizza box without meeting her eyes. “I’ve got a few things lined up that look okay.” Okay, so that’s stretching the truth, but it’s not an outright lie.
She takes a sip of her soda, then sighs. “What did Michael say about you losing your job again?”
“Not much, but he didn’t have to.” He looks at her. “You know what he’s like.”
Her smile is faintly sad. “I do.” She stares down at the lid of the pizza box, sitting between them on the couch, then lifts her gaze to his. “Have you told him yet?”
“Told who what?”
“Told Michael about the money you borrowed.”
“No.” He sees her face, a determined expression he knows only too well, and panic twists through him. “And you can’t tell him either, Vee. I mean it. You promised me.”
She lifts her hands, then drops them again. “I know I promised, but Linc, I honestly thought you might have told him by now.”
“I can’t, not yet.”
“Why not?”
He suddenly feels the first beginnings of a headache clawing at his temples. “Because he would hate being that indebted to me, and he’d probably do something stupid like dropping out of college to get a job to try and pay me back.”
She stares at him for a moment, then slowly shakes her head. “I don’t know how two people who know each other so well can misunderstand each other so often.”
He struggles to find the words to explain the unexplainable, then he shakes his own head. “Can we not talk about this now, please?”
Her face softens. “Sure.” She reaches out to him, her fingertips brushing the back of his hand. “I’ve got my first interview on Monday. Bianchi and Guthrie, remember I told you about them?”
“Yeah. You said they were a good firm?”
She nods, looking as relieved as he feels to be back on safer ground. “If I can get in on the ground floor with them, I’ll be set for the next few years.”
When his phone rings a short time later, he’s so sure it’s Michael that he answers it without a second thought. “Hey.”
“I hear you’re thinking of not paying me this month.”
The bottom falls out of his stomach at the sound of Crab Simmons’ voice. Rising to his feet, he moves away from the couch, wanting desperately to put some distance between Vee and this part of his life. “Hey, man, look, I can’t really talk right now.”
“That’s okay, because this conversation is almost over. I want that two grand in my man’s hand by ten o’clock tomorrow night, or I am going to have to start seriously reconsidering the terms of our agreement.”
“Tomorrow night might be a problem,” Lincoln says carefully, painfully aware of Vee’s sharp gaze. His statement is met by an ominous silence, then a reply that makes his blood run cold.
“Don’t make me send in the repo men, my friend. They’re not too careful about what they take, if you know what I mean.”
For the second time that day, he’s left with the dial tone in his ear and a head filling with despair.
“Lincoln? Everything okay?”
He looks at Veronica, at her beautiful little face, and he knows he can’t drag her into this. “Everything’s good.”
She studies him for a moment longer, her eyes searching his as if trying to see past his bland reply. Picking up his glass, he takes a sip of soda he barely tastes, then gives her a smile that makes his face feel as though it might crack. “Tell me more about this job interview of yours.”
After giving him one final searching glance, she does. He watches her, nodding and smiling in the right places, listening to her words without actually hearing them, feeling the space between them growing wider and wider, filling up with all the things he’ll never be able to tell her. They might as well be on two different planets, because what he wants and what's best for her are never, ever going to be the same thing. No matter what he does, he's only going to drag her down with him, just like he always has, and the shock of finally letting himself admit it feels like a cold knife in his gut, almost making him flinch. That’s the problem with epiphanies, he thinks bitterly, watching her as she talks softly, her smile lighting up her eyes. You never know when to expect them.
~*~
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters/Pairing: Lincoln Burrows/Veronica Donovan, Michael Scofield
Genre: Het, pre-series
Length: 5,366 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary: That's the problem with epiphanies; you never know when to expect them.
Author's Note: Finally, the last installment of domfangirl's birthday fic. Please forgive me for taking so long! I have no excuse other than being completely distracted by the SWC news. *g* Forgive me? This story is set in the Full Circle universe and takes place before, during and after Veronica's graduation. This chapter contains dialogue from #102, "Allen" that certainly wasn't written by me. Thanks to sarah_scribbles for the once-over, any mistakes that remain are all mine. You can read Chapter One of this story here, while Chapter Two is here.
~*~
After what feels like an eternity, he feels her small hand on his cheek, her fingertips stroking his jaw. “I’d forgotten,” she murmurs wistfully, her palm warm against his cheek.
He brushes the hair back from her damp forehead. “Forgotten what?”
She smiles at him, and it suddenly feels as though the last six years have just fallen away. “How good it was."
Maybe those four little words shouldn’t make him feel as though she’s just handed him a winning lottery ticket, but they do. “Listen, Vee?”
Her fingertips trailing lazily up and down his chest, she gives him a sleepy glance. “Hmmm?”
He takes a deep breath, buoyed by the certainty that this is right. “I love you.”
“I know,” she chuckles softly, her bare thigh sliding across his as she lifts her face to his, her breath warm as she whispers the words against his mouth. “I love you too.”
He kisses her, swallowing the last word from her tongue as his hands bury themselves in her silky hair. “I can’t wait for you to come home,” he murmurs when they come up for air. “We can make this work, Vee. I know it.”
“Linc-” She sighs into the kiss, her fingertips fluttering over his jaw, then she slowly pulls away, her eyes searching his. “It’s going to take me a few weeks to wrap up everything up here,” she says in a casual voice that doesn’t quite hit its mark, and he suddenly wonders if he’s been taking too much for granted, just like he always does when it comes to her. He thinks of her whispering to him about being on the pill, and a cold ripple of apprehension washes over him.
“You seeing someone out here?” He does his best to sound as though one particular answer isn’t going to rip out his guts, but he’s not sure how well he succeeds.
“No.” She doesn’t flush or look away, meeting his gaze steadily. “Not exactly, anyway,” she says slowly, then shrugs. “You know what college is like.”
He gives her a look. “I didn’t go to college, remember?” She bites her bottom lip at his sour drawl, and he immediately regrets giving into the instinctive urge to keep score of old grudges and ancient fucking history. “Sorry.”
She studies him for a few seconds, then shifts closer, her chin resting on his chest, just above his heart. “It’s okay.” After pressing a lingering kiss to his bare chest, she lifts her head and gives him a slow smile. “I guess we should make ourselves respectable. Wouldn’t want to shock your little brother.”
“Yeah, well.” Lincoln grins, remembering how his little brother had been eyeing off that engineering chick in the bar. “I don’t know how easily shocked he is these days.”
~*~
They make their way back to the bar slowly, and with every step the feel of Vee’s hand gripping his makes him feel as though he could take on dozens of drunken lowlifes like her father without breaking a sweat. Speaking of which -
“What’s your dad think about you coming back to Chicago?”
She frowns at the flashing toes of her patent leather heels. “He flip flops between telling me not to think I can just waltz back into his home and complaining that he won’t see enough of me if I take a lease on a new apartment uptown.”
He can almost feel his back teeth grinding. “Sounds like Thomas.”
“Some things never change.” She blows out a loud breath, and he doesn’t have to look at her face to know she’s frustrated. He does look, though, because it’s been too fucking long since he was able to turn his head and see her at his side.
“It’ll work out okay,” he tells her with a confidence he’s pretty sure he’ll actually feel as soon as she’s really back in Chicago and he knows it’s not just some pipe dream.
She flashes him a smile. “I hope so.”
The bar is even more crowded than it was when they’d left an hour or so ago, and it takes them almost half an hour to determine that Michael is nowhere to be seen. “Where the hell would he go?” Lincoln stares at the spot where he’d last seen his brother, a familiar guilt gnawing at him, a burning twitch at the back of his neck that makes him want to loosen his collar even more than it already is.
Veronica is biting her bottom lip, her fingers nervously tapping against her thigh. “Maybe he ran into some friends.”
“How could he? He doesn’t know anyone in Texas, let alone Waco.”
“Excuse me, are you Lincoln Burrows?” He and Veronica turn in unison at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, finding themselves staring at one of the female bar attendants who’d served them earlier that evening.
“Yeah.”
The blonde girl holds out a small piece of paper. “Your brother left this for you.”
Lincoln blinks, then automatically reaches for the neatly folded note. “Anyone else would have scribbled something on a coaster,” he mutters to himself, then quickly scans the familiar handwriting.
Gone for a coffee with Lucy. See you back at the hotel.
A slow smile creasing his face, Lincoln shakes his head in unexpected admiration. “Son of a bitch.”
Veronica is trying to peer over his shoulder, her hand tugging gently at his sleeve. “What is it? Is everything okay?”
“Michael’s gone for coffee with that girl.” Lincoln remembers his manners long enough to give the bar attendant a smile. “Thanks, uh -” his gaze drops to her pocket, searching for a nametag, but she’s not wearing one and he realizes too late it looks as though he’s staring at her breasts. “Uh, thanks,” he finishes awkwardly, and she gives him a smiling nod.
“No problem.”
She makes her way back towards the bar, and Lincoln realises she must have been keeping watch for them. Wondering how much of a tip Michael had slipped her - or maybe he’d just smiled at her the right way, he thinks with more than a trace of envy - he turns back to Veronica. “So. What do you want to do now?”
She smirks, curling her hands around his arm, the curve of her breast soft against his bicep. “It’s the strangest thing, but I’m suddenly starving.” She looks around the crowded bar, then back at home. “Want to go somewhere quiet and grab something to eat?”
He brushes aside the thought of the dwindling stash of notes in his wallet, preferring to dwell on the happy fact she’s not ready to say goodnight either. “Works for me.”
Three hours later - hours that go past all too quickly as they huddle at a corner table of a Chinese café, drinking tea and surreptitiously touching each other as much as the bright lighting overhead allows - there’s no avoiding the fact their time together is up. Vee is still living on campus with a roommate who definitely wouldn’t appreciate an overnight guest, and Lincoln’s sleeping arrangements are hardly any more flexible.
When he finally forces himself to ask for the check, Vee is digging in her purse and pressing a couple of bills into his hand before he has the chance to protest. When he opens his mouth to speak, she cuts him off with a determined smile. “You and Michael flew all the way out here to see me,” she drawls. “Don’t you dare tell me I can’t chip in for dinner.”
He knows he should argue with her, but he also knows he barely has enough cash left to fill his car with gas once he gets back to Chicago. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When the staff have swept the place out, stacked chairs and turned off half the lights in the place, he knows he has to admit defeat. “I guess we should call it a night.”
Her hand tightens on his knee, sending a rush of heat that seems to hit his groin and his heart at the same time. “I guess.”
Outside in the warm night air, he suddenly feels ridiculously awkward. “Can I walk you back to the dorm?”
She smiles, her vivid eyes sparkling. “You want to carry my books, too?”
Grinning, he slips his arm around her slender shoulders, relishing the feel of her tucked into his side. “I would if you had any.”
She leans into him as they begin to walk, matching her shorter stride to his. “I know.”
They manage to find every shadow and private doorway along the path of their journey, and it takes them almost forty minutes to reach the campus. He’s as hard as a rock once again by the time they reach the security gates, but he doesn’t hesitate to make matters worse by giving her a goodnight kiss that leaves them both breathless, fingers digging into each other’s shoulders and hips. “When will I see you again?”
“Three weeks, I promise,” she mutters against his chest, her mouth hot on his skin bared by the loosened collar of his shirt. He seems to have lost his jacket somewhere between the hotel and here, and he couldn’t give a fuck. “I’ll call you as soon as I arrive.”
He wraps his arms around her, suddenly feeling as though it’s too soon to let her walk away, that he hasn’t had time to make sure they’re both on the same page. “I could pick you up from the airport,” he offers, but she shakes her head, the sleek darkness of her hair brushing against his chin.
“It’ll be on a weekday, and I don’t want to take you away from work.”
He doesn’t tell her he barely managed to swing the two personal days he needed to be here with her now, nor does he mention the fact that he’s not sure he’ll still be in the same job by the time she gets back to Chicago. Now is not the moment to talk about how he's skating on thin ice when it comes to office politics, not when she’s looking at him as though she still can’t believe he’s here with her. “You’re too good to me,” he says with a smile, a teasing retort he suspects they both know is entirely too true.
She smiles, then kisses him one last time, her mouth soft and warm, stepping backwards only when his pulse rate is off the scale. “Call me whenever you want, okay?”
He nods, fighting the unexpected urge to put his hand to his mouth, to try and trap the taste of her on his lips. “I will.”
He watches her go, waiting until she waves and vanishes from his sight before he even lets himself blink. Three weeks, he thinks with a slow smile. In three weeks, everything will be back the way it should be. Casting one last look at the last spot he’d seen her, he shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to walk back to the hotel.
His head is filled with the thought of her, but that doesn’t stop him wondering if he’s going to find Michael in their hotel room or if he’s going to have to start searching all the late-night coffee places in Waco. He tells himself Michael is twenty-one years old and not an idiot, but they’re in a strange city and he’d only known that girl for ten minutes. The thought of something happening to Michael because he was too preoccupied with getting Vee into bed rises up in the back of his throat, burning his tongue like acid.
His question is answered as soon as he pushes open the hotel room door. The light in the small bathroom is on, and from behind the half-closed door, he hears the unmistakable sound of someone cleaning their teeth. “Are you alone in there, or do I have to come back later?”
Michael’s reply is muffled but unmistakably unimpressed. “Hilarious.”
He drops down onto his bed, smiling at the mental picture of Vee hastily straightening the covers after they’d dressed, saying something about not wanting to be a slob. Easing off his shoes, he pulls his dress shirt up and over his head, not bothering to undo the buttons. Whether it was all the walking or their horizontal exertion, he doesn’t know, but the hours with Vee have left him pleasantly exhausted.
The light in the bathroom is flicked off, and Michael strides across the small room, already dressed in his undershirt and boxers. Lincoln gives him an idle glance, then wrinkles his nose at the distinctly feminine scent trailing in his brother’s wake. He grins. “Nice perfume you’re wearing.”
There’s a pointed silence from the other bed, then Michael yawns loudly, his hands linked behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. “Thanks, I like it.”
Shaking his head, Lincoln gets to his feet and strips down to his own boxers, draping his trousers over the foot of the bed. “Had a big night, did we?”
Michael turns his head, one eyebrow quirked, the beginning of a knowing smile curing his mouth. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
Lincoln knows he’s not going to get anything out of his brother tonight. He also knows he doesn’t want to talk about Vee, not to Michael, not tonight. Tonight he wants to curl his hands around the memory of their time alone and hold them tight against him, if only to convince himself he didn’t imagine it. “I think we should get some sleep.”
Michael snorts, then punches his pillow before rolling over to face the wall. “Works for me.”
~*~
There’s a message waiting for him at the front desk on his first day back at work, telling him to report to the manager’s office. A few minutes later, Lincoln is staring at his supervisor, struggling to keep his rising temper in check. “With all due respect, Mr. Kerr, I checked with Matthews before taking those personal days.”
His boss’ expression doesn’t change. "Matthews isn’t in a position to approve personal days, Burrows, and you know it.”
“It was an emergency, Mr. Kerr, and you weren’t here to ask.” Fuck only knows where the guy had been last week, Lincoln thinks sourly. His secretary had said he’d been away on business, but Lincoln suspects he’d spent much of the week on the golf course.
“The trouble is, Burrows, that this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a short cut around the rules to suit yourself.” The other man leans forward in his chair, his hands folded neatly on the desk in front of him. “If you can’t follow simple procedures like everyone else, then maybe this isn’t the right place for you.”
Lincoln blinks, feeling a familiar tightness encircling his ribs. “I’m sorry, are you firing me?”
“I just don’t think you and this company are a good fit. I’m sure you’d be happier elsewhere.” Kerr gives him a smile that is probably supposed to be sympathetic, a smile that Lincoln would very much like to smack with his fist. “You can pick up your final check from payroll.”
Lincoln says nothing, because there’s nothing to say. He’s been down this road before, and he knows no amount of protests or bad language will change the outcome. Turning on his heel, he slams the door of the office behind him as a parting gesture, vaguely registered the satisfying sound of his former employer’s loud objection. He would have liked to have put his fist through the glass panel in the door instead, but he needs that last paycheck, as measly as it’s going to be.
He drives home, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles begin to sting. He thinks of having to tell Michael he’s lost yet another job and his heart sinks. Then he thinks of trying to come up with the cash to meet the monthly repayments on his loan, and his stomach clenches in unpleasant protest. Veronica Donovan might be coming back to Chicago, but the rest of his life is still stuck in the same old cycle of suck that it always has been, and he’s suddenly afraid that nothing is ever going to change.
~*~
The next two weeks pass by in a blur of frantically searching the want ads and counting the days until his next payment to Crab Simmons is due. He’d signed on for unemployment as soon as he could, but he knows it’s still not going to be enough. He wakes up every morning, feeling as though someone is pressing down on his chest, filled with an unnamed feeling of dread that quickly becomes all too familiar.
On the day he’s supposed to visit one of Crab’s guys and hand over another two grand, he has twenty bucks in his wallet and even less in his bank account. Knowing the only thing worse than not paying up is going to ground, he steels himself to make the call to ask for more time.
It doesn’t go well.
The conversation is short and awkward, and Crab’s guy is non-committal, to say the least. “I’ll have to talk to Crab,” he announces, then he’s gone, leaving Lincoln with a dead phone line and a churning gut.
It’s Saturday. Michael is doing a shift at the shelter, and Lincoln is glad he doesn't have to explain any tense phone calls to his curious brother. He spends the next hour doing laundry and cleaning the apartment he and Michael probably won’t be sharing this time next year, anything to keep his mind from replaying the phone conversation with Crab’s goon. He thinks of LJ and how he’s supposed to take him to the park on Sunday, and wonders if he’ll have to turn up with a broken nose or a shattered kneecap. Dropping the tattered dishcloth into the sink, he stares unseeingly out the window at the blank brick wall of the apartment building next door. All he’d wanted was to make things better for them - all of them - but all he’s going to do is drag everyone else down with him.
God damn it.
When his phone rings, his heart begins to slam against his ribs. He approaches the phone as though it’s a live snake, waiting to rear up and strike. Swallowing hard, he takes a deep breath. “Yeah?”
The familiar lilt of Veronica’s voice floats across the phone line. “It’s me.”
His whole body slumps in relief. “Hey, how are you?”
“I’m home.”
He blinks. “What?” He finds himself looking at his watch, as if he didn’t already know the date by heart. “I didn’t think you’d be here until next week.”
“I managed to sort out everything a lot sooner than I thought.” He can hear the smile in her voice. “Plus, I had an ulterior motive for coming home sooner, remember?”
Despite his grim thoughts, he grins. “I hope so.”
She laughs softly. “Want to come see my new place?”
“That was quick.”
“One of my girlfriends here helped me find it while I was wrapping things up in Waco,” she tells him, and he can’t help wondering why she didn’t think to ask him to help her. “I signed the lease yesterday.”
Her excitement is infectious, and he finds himself pushing the thought of Crab Simmons from his head with surprising ease. “Give me the address and I’ll be there.”
~*~
She meets him at the front door with a hug and a brief but bruising kiss, her small hand encircling his wrist to tug him inside. “Do you want the tour?” she asks brightly, her wide mouth faintly pink from their kiss.
“Sure.” Sliding his arm around her, he pulls her closer, bending his head until his nose is almost touching hers. “Of course, if you wanted to start in the bedroom, that would be fine with me.”
He sees her smile, then her arms are winding around his neck and she’s kissing him, her mouth tasting of coffee and lip gloss. Sliding his hands down to cup her ass, he lifts her up against him, walking her backwards through the small apartment. “Second door on the right,” she murmurs against his mouth, her breath hot on his lips, and he doesn’t waste a another second on social niceties. Side-stepping the packing boxes that litter the floor, he finds her bedroom and her bed in record time.
Their time together in Texas had been an emotional reaffirmation of what lay between them, but this was something else. This is frantic and hard and a little desperate, clothes being flung onto the floor with clumsy haste, hands gripping hard enough to leave bruises on pale flesh. “God, I’ve missed you,” he growls into the crook of her neck, his hands filled with the delicious curves of her ass and her breasts, the heat between her legs cradling his aching cock.
“It’s only been two weeks,” she gasps as he pushes inside her, her thighs lifting around his hips, her fingernails sharp on his shoulders.
“Feels much longer,” he manages to say, then the rhythm of his hunger for her takes over, pounding through his blood, narrowing the world down to this bed and the feel over her beneath him. Her hands are cool on his hot skin, but the rest of her is warm, flushed with heat against him, her flesh tight and slick around his, and he feels as though his body might dissolve from the sheer pleasure of it.
Just like she did in Texas, she says his name when she comes, her face twisted in a mask of agonized delight, writhing beneath him as though she can never get close enough to him. When he abandons the struggle to hold himself back, his breath harsh in her ear as he thrusts into her one last time, he knows exactly how she feels.
~*~
“I can’t believe I’m here,” she says later, her voice thick with sleep. “College already feels so far away.”
He runs his hand down the length of her bare back, admiring the smattering of freckles that dot her pale skin. When they were younger, he was always tempted to play connect-the-dots. It seems he hasn’t grown out of the impulse, and he trails his finger from one to the next. “Next phase of your life, I guess.”
“You said it.” She stretches, her bare feet brushing against his calves, her shoulders shifting as she nuzzles her pillow. “The serious job hunting phase.”
His conscience twinges, reminding him he hasn’t told her about his job yet (or rather, the lack of one) but he smothers it. “You’ll do great. Any firm that doesn’t want you isn’t worth your time.”
“I don’t think I should put that on my resume,” she laughs softly, her feet lazily caressing his legs. “What about you?”
He holds his breath. “What about me?”
“How do you feel about all this?” Her voice has dropped to a hazy murmur, and he knows she’s on the brink of falling asleep. “Me being back.”
Pushing himself up on one elbow, he looks down at her, the silken mass of raven hair spilling over her pale shoulder. “I have a strange feeling. Don’t know how to explain it.” He hesitates, wondering if she’ll think he’s an idiot, then decides he doesn’t care. He wants so much to tell her all the things that have been building up inside him the whole time she’s been gone, and if she thinks he’s lost the plot, so be it. He leans closer, his nose twitching at the scent of her, all perfume and warm skin and sex. “You know, uh, my whole life. It’s usually been crazy, noisy, maddening, you know, in my head.” The only other person he’s ever said this to is Michael, and they haven’t talked like this for a long time. “But now it’s quiet.” He presses a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, touching his tongue to the smooth warmth of her skin. “It’s perfect.” He’s babbling now, he knows, but every word he says makes his heart feel lighter. “I’m glad you came back.”
She rolls over to face him, her knee sliding between his. “I thought about you the whole time.”
“You know -” he starts, then hesitates, realizing saying all this stuff was much easier when she wasn’t looking at him. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I know that.” If there was ever an understatement uttered in the universe, he thinks wryly, this was it. “But I’m gonna make it right.
She smiles, her eyes glittering. “I know you will.”
He kisses her, a soft touch of his mouth to hers that quickly becomes something sweet and deep, the taste of her filling up his senses, pushing aside everything dark and bitter in his head and his heart. I want to remember this, he thinks suddenly, and pulls away, gazing at her kiss-dazed face.
One glance at the nightstand confirms the fleeting impression of something he’d seen as he’d lowered her to bed, and he’s soon clutching her camera in his hand.
Her eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
He grins at her. “I wanna remember this.”
She shakes her head, laughing, ripping the pillow from behind her to hold it in front of her face. “No, no, no.”
He grabs the pillow with his free hand, trying to pull it down. He doesn’t know why this is so important, it just is, and he is not going to let her wriggle out of it. “Come on, come on. Vee. Please!”
Still laughing, she lets the pillow fall, and he knows he’s won. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he pulls her closer, holding the camera above them. One eye on the camera, he’s surprised by the touch of her hand on his face, then the soft warmth of her mouth on his. The flash of the camera flickers through his closed eyelids, and he feels her mouth curve into a smile against his.
“Thank God for digital cameras,” she mutters darkly, and his grin widens.
“Someone’s turned into a modest Southern belle.”
She punches him lightly on the arm, then slides her knee a little higher between his, high enough to make him suck in his breath. “You’ll have to reeducate me, then.”
~*~
They order pizza some time around eight o’clock - he tries to call Michael several times, but gets no answer - and eat it straight from the box while sitting on the couch. There’s no coffee table and the crate with her dishes is one of the many sitting on the kitchen floor. Catching his eye, she gives him a rueful smile. “I’ll finish unpacking tomorrow.”
“I’d help you out, but I’m seeing LJ tomorrow.”
Her smile doesn’t waver at the sound of his son’s name, and he thinks he might love her a little bit more for it. “How is he?”
“He’s great.” He wipes his greasy fingers on his napkin, then glances around him at piles of boxes. “I could help you out on Monday, if you like.”
She frowns. “Aren’t you working?”
Shit. “I’m not working there anymore.”
A flicker of disquiet ripples across the smooth surface of her expression, like a stone thrown into a still pond. “Oh.”
He pushes away his plate, his appetite vanishing. “The big boss wasn’t happy with me taking a few days personal leave a while back.”
Her gaze widens. “When you came to my graduation?”
He considers lying to spare her feelings, then decides he’d rather be as honest with her as possible. “Yeah.”
Her face falls. “God, Lincoln, I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault.” He shrugs, closing the lid of the pizza box without meeting her eyes. “I’ve got a few things lined up that look okay.” Okay, so that’s stretching the truth, but it’s not an outright lie.
She takes a sip of her soda, then sighs. “What did Michael say about you losing your job again?”
“Not much, but he didn’t have to.” He looks at her. “You know what he’s like.”
Her smile is faintly sad. “I do.” She stares down at the lid of the pizza box, sitting between them on the couch, then lifts her gaze to his. “Have you told him yet?”
“Told who what?”
“Told Michael about the money you borrowed.”
“No.” He sees her face, a determined expression he knows only too well, and panic twists through him. “And you can’t tell him either, Vee. I mean it. You promised me.”
She lifts her hands, then drops them again. “I know I promised, but Linc, I honestly thought you might have told him by now.”
“I can’t, not yet.”
“Why not?”
He suddenly feels the first beginnings of a headache clawing at his temples. “Because he would hate being that indebted to me, and he’d probably do something stupid like dropping out of college to get a job to try and pay me back.”
She stares at him for a moment, then slowly shakes her head. “I don’t know how two people who know each other so well can misunderstand each other so often.”
He struggles to find the words to explain the unexplainable, then he shakes his own head. “Can we not talk about this now, please?”
Her face softens. “Sure.” She reaches out to him, her fingertips brushing the back of his hand. “I’ve got my first interview on Monday. Bianchi and Guthrie, remember I told you about them?”
“Yeah. You said they were a good firm?”
She nods, looking as relieved as he feels to be back on safer ground. “If I can get in on the ground floor with them, I’ll be set for the next few years.”
When his phone rings a short time later, he’s so sure it’s Michael that he answers it without a second thought. “Hey.”
“I hear you’re thinking of not paying me this month.”
The bottom falls out of his stomach at the sound of Crab Simmons’ voice. Rising to his feet, he moves away from the couch, wanting desperately to put some distance between Vee and this part of his life. “Hey, man, look, I can’t really talk right now.”
“That’s okay, because this conversation is almost over. I want that two grand in my man’s hand by ten o’clock tomorrow night, or I am going to have to start seriously reconsidering the terms of our agreement.”
“Tomorrow night might be a problem,” Lincoln says carefully, painfully aware of Vee’s sharp gaze. His statement is met by an ominous silence, then a reply that makes his blood run cold.
“Don’t make me send in the repo men, my friend. They’re not too careful about what they take, if you know what I mean.”
For the second time that day, he’s left with the dial tone in his ear and a head filling with despair.
“Lincoln? Everything okay?”
He looks at Veronica, at her beautiful little face, and he knows he can’t drag her into this. “Everything’s good.”
She studies him for a moment longer, her eyes searching his as if trying to see past his bland reply. Picking up his glass, he takes a sip of soda he barely tastes, then gives her a smile that makes his face feel as though it might crack. “Tell me more about this job interview of yours.”
After giving him one final searching glance, she does. He watches her, nodding and smiling in the right places, listening to her words without actually hearing them, feeling the space between them growing wider and wider, filling up with all the things he’ll never be able to tell her. They might as well be on two different planets, because what he wants and what's best for her are never, ever going to be the same thing. No matter what he does, he's only going to drag her down with him, just like he always has, and the shock of finally letting himself admit it feels like a cold knife in his gut, almost making him flinch. That’s the problem with epiphanies, he thinks bitterly, watching her as she talks softly, her smile lighting up her eyes. You never know when to expect them.
~*~