(no subject)
Title: Frozen In Time
Author: putu2sleep
Rating: pg
Characters: Aldo, Lincoln, Michael, Sucre
Summary: This is part IV/IV. Aldo's final venture into his sons' lives
I can’t help but walk up and down the length of the hangar. I’ve been waiting for the hired jet to arrive for half an hour now, and I know it will take hours to get there. How can I be so nervous? I wasn’t this anxious when he was born, and now here I am pacing back and forth like a new father. God, I hope I don’t try to count his fingers and toes when I get there!
I’ve been on edge ever since the phone call from Jane. I thought about talking to Lincoln then, but it didn’t seem wise. So I accepted the report professionally, offering the praise my team had been nurtured on: “Good job! Jane, I’m so proud of you. You’ve really honed your team.” All the words and praise that I wish I had lavished on my boys.
Now, all I can do is sit and wait. Silently picturing the scene Jane had described. I cringe, thinking about her slamming into the cruiser transporting both my son and my only grandchild. Then I laugh whole-heartedly, picturing Lincoln’s head-butt crashing into Jane’s lip. I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes laughter is the only thing that eases the tension.
I hear the plane as it pulls up just outside the hangar. Refuel, checklist and then we’re off. I can’t believe I’m just three hours away from meeting my grandson for the first time, and hopefully, just days away from freeing my son, once and for all.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Throughout the flight, I rehearse my lines. I have to be prepared this time. I want to be ready with the answers Lincoln needs. I know I’ll need to be strong, otherwise he won’t trust me, he won’t give me the opportunity to get him the hell out of this thing. God, I’m sweating like a rookie. How old am I? Twenty-five or Fifty-five?
Finally! I’m here, and they’re here, and I can’t seem to say anything. All I can do is stare, looking from one to the other, like a tennis match. Lincoln speaks first, thank God, jolting me out of my silence with the same word I had heard back in the junkyard garage, “Dad.”
“So this is him,” I say as calmly as I can manage. All I really want to do is grab them both and hold on, but I know I lost that privilege a long time ago.
Linc’s words are flat, emotionless, as if he’s been practicing his lines as well, “Lincoln Junior.”
As the introduction continues, I shake L.J.’s hand and tell him how long I’ve been waiting to meet him. I really mean it, but he just smiles politely. This poor child has seen and experienced much more already than anyone should in a lifetime. That seems to be the norm for my family.
I can feel Lincoln’s anger drilling through me. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I have to make him trust me. Can I undo thirty years of wrongs with just a few hours of rights? I sure hope so.
I have to start somewhere, so here I go, “I’ve arranged a safe place for both of you to go to…”
“Thanks for bailing us out, but we gotta meet Michael,” Lincoln interrupts. He doesn’t even look at me, just keeps staring out the window.
“I can go alone and get him,” I hear myself plead. But, what I really want to say is, “Please, Lincoln, please, let me do this one thing. Let me make the sacrifice this time.” My request would just fall on empty ears anyway, so I don’t even bother.
Lincoln is on his feet now, striding across the room, “I trust Michael, he’s got a plan to get us to Panama!”
God, how I wish he trusted me that blindly. My panic wells up in my throat, "Stay calm,” I tell myself. I need him to feel my strength if I’m going to get anywhere with him.
I take a deep breath and start at a point that I think might catch Lincoln’s attention, “You don’t need to go to Panama. You don’t need to run anymore.”
I can see L.J.’s eyes light up with my words, but I know Linc won’t be so easy to win over.
“An NSA analyst sympathetic to our cause finally gained access to the ‘Echelon Program.’ That’s where all the e-mails and cell phone calls from across the country are recorded and stored for Homeland Security.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” Lincoln interjected.
Wow! I can’t believe I’m finally seeing some signs of interest. Maybe I’m finally breaking through. I hope I’m assessing the situation correctly and not letting my emotions overtake my wisdom.
So I press on, “This analyst overheard a phone conversation between the President and Terrence Steadman two weeks after you supposedly killed him.” This is my trump card! I hope it’s enough.
“Someone else was also looking into the President’s background: Governor Tancredi.” I continued, “And twenty-four hours later, he’s dead and the analyst is missing. Judging by how hard the Company’s going after her, we’re pretty sure Sara Tancredi has it-she’s the key.”
Just as I start to press the point, I can see Lincoln’s attention drawn elsewhere, and his finger raise to his lips. “What is it?” I question silently. Then I hear it, too, the familiar klink…klink... klink of a bullet casing bouncing against tile.
I watch helplessly as Lincoln rushes the shooter. All I can do right now is put an arm around L.J., shield him, and herd him away from the target area.
Staring on as my son wrestles the hapless agent to the ground is as difficult an assignment as I have ever had. Then staying back with L.J. as the other man wields a knife at Lincoln’s throat rips my guts out.
The peal of the gunshot is the sweetest sound my ears have ever heard. “Thank you, again, Jane,” I mouth silently, as I watch the double agent’s movements come to a stop. I know she doesn’t need to hear my words aloud.
After all that, I am amazed that my first instinct was to protect my grandson. Have I finally come to the realization that family is the most important thing of all, or is this just a happy coincidence? I hope the former, but I’m still not convinced that I’ve come that far.
I hear the phone ring just as Lincoln does, but it takes me a minute to realize what he’s doing, “Lincoln…don’t!”
It’s no use, he’s answering it even as the words leave my mouth. Listening to this one-sided conversation really doesn’t help. Even as he tries to bully and intimidate the Company agent on the other end, all I hear is rage and irrational determination in my son’s words. This exchange can’t possibly help our cause, it’s just another example of Lincoln’s impulsiveness. If he was one of my agents, I would have scolded and derided him, but I can’t afford to alienate him right now. I’ll save that luxury for another time.
* * * * * * * * * * *
We both just stare out into the desert for so long that I don’t even know how much time has past. I’m afraid to say anything. Although I’m not really sure why Lincoln isn’t talking, I’m afraid to ask any questions at all.
Sighing to myself, I look forward to meeting Michael again, I think. But, I must confess, I’m a bit nervous. I haven’t seen him since he was ten, and that wasn’t under the most pleasant of circumstances…
“For the last thirty years, I’ve hated you, you walked out on me…You haven’t even seen Michael.” Lincoln’s bitter words interrupt my reverie.
“I’ve seen him before,” was all I could come up with.
“How much further?” Lincoln looks at me for the first time since we left Colorado.
“About three hours,” I reply.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Watching from behind the shack is miserable, but Lincoln and I had both agreed ahead of time that it was best for him to approach Michael alone. Now I just stand in the shadows and listen as the boys greet each other. I can hear another voice, so I cautiously round the corner as Lincoln announces, “I brought someone,” he looks toward me, “Dad.”
Oh my God, the anguish in Michael’s innocent face is more than I can take. I find myself wanting to run away, afraid to rekindle a relationship with this man. He is no longer the boy I met so long ago on Pershing Avenue. But that’s my fault. No, I can’t run. I have to stay, I have to follow through for once. I have to let him have his say.
“We met before….It was you!” Michael sobs.
I can see that day again in his eyes. It’s like I’m reliving it all over again. I think of it occasionally, but until right now I had no idea that Michael must relive it endlessly.
Slowly raising my hands in the air, I cautiously approach my youngest child. “Go easy son,” I intone softly.
After several minutes of fury and miscommunication, the details of my previous venture into Michael’s life come to the surface. I suppose I should have told Lincoln on the drive down here, it isn’t as if we didn’t have enough time. I guess I’m just not too good at making admissions to my sons.
Finally, we started walking away from the shack, but the accusations didn’t cease. “Six months…six months I was in that place!” I can hear the resentment in every word Michael utters, “Where were you? How long did you know?”
Again, I find myself in the position of answering questions I had hoped would never come up, “I found you as soon as I could, the state kept moving you around.”
The conversation keeps on going, just as we keep on walking. This time it’s Michael who hushes everyone. The sounds of pebbles tumbling down the side of the embankment garner all of our attention.
“Run,” I hear Lincoln whisper, and then as the head appears above the rocky incline, “RUN!” he shouts urgently.
We all scamper toward the base of the rocky fortress for cover, but I know this spot provides inadequate protection. Reaching for the Latino’s gun, I take over. Donning my authoritative façade, I allow no argument, “You guys head for the car…go!
A sudden peace washes over me. As I provide cover for my boys’ escape, realization sets in. I know that I am in a completely defenseless position. This agent, whoever he is, has the upper hand. He is on high ground, and he knows it. Finally! It’s my turn to step up to the plate…to take one for the family. I have stood by too long, allowing my sons to do my job, but today that all ends. Today, it’s my turn.
“Go!” I yell at the car as it backs up toward my position. This isn’t at all what I want. I don’t want them any closer to this madman. All I can do is break cover and run for the car. Otherwise they’ll get too close, and be within range of the agent on the hill. For me, it doesn’t really matter, either way I’m a dead man. Still, I was hoping to save my boys the anguish of watching me die. They’ve suffered enough because of me, I would have liked to have spared them this one circumstance. But even that, I don’t seem to be able to manage.
So I go ahead and take the fatal plunge: I turn my back on the enemy and head for the car. As I jump in, numb from chest to toe, I hear the relief in their casual laughter. Despite my secret that they will soon discover, nothing has ever felt so good as Michael’s arm around my shoulder, cradling my head against his chest.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I can see Michael’s smile twist into a frown or a scowl, I’m really not sure which. I know realization is setting in. Knowing my time is limited, I can’t wait anymore. I need them to understand.
I don’t have a lot of strength left, but I grin a little at the thought that I have finally secured their trust, I may have even begun to gain their love…but I have no more frozen moments in time. This is truly my last hurrah.
“Listen to me, both of you.” I know I sound stronger in my head than in reality, but I have to clear the air. “I’m sorry… I wish I’d never left.”
It’s hard to believe the panting breaths are my own, they sound so distant. I can’t believe that I’ve done it again. I came back into their lives just long enough to devastate them once more.
“I’m not going to let you die!” Michael sobs desperately.
I realize that’s Michael. He’s always trying to take on everyone else’s responsibilities. Somehow, I have to stop him, just this one time. I can’t believe he can forgive me so easily, my heart is broken along with the rest of my body.
I can feel the sweat dripping down my face, and my breaths, shallow and faint. My pulse quickens and my head feels so light; still, my job is not yet complete. I can’t go yet. I’m not trying to kid myself. I’m never going to be able to save Lincoln, or even get them to temporary safety, but maybe I can give them some peace.
I remember the first admission I made to my son back in that garage in Illinois. It seems like a lifetime ago, ha ha. Now I struggle for enough breath to make my last, most important admission.
As I lay cradled in Michael’s arms, the words don’t come easily, not because I don’t know what to say, but because I no longer have control of my body.
“I love…you….You know that…don’t you?” That was the best I could do.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I can tell they think I’m dead now…Am I? Even as I can no longer hold up my own head, I can feel Michael’s hands in my hair, his tears on my cheek. No, I don’t think I’m dead…yet. But these comforts he provides are soothing me through the passage.
I try, but I can’t talk anymore. Am I still breathing? Now I know the mind keeps working awhile after the body shuts down.
Looking back on my life, it doesn’t flash before my eyes as I’d heard. But, revelation is more simplistic now: my life has been nothing but a brief respite from the monotony of eternity which awaits.
So I go now, no more chances, no more frozen moments. I spend every last second of thought focusing on my sons. Perhaps their hard times have provided them with a particular sense of purpose, a certain resolve. Maybe I helped them after all. Could that be my gift to the boys? That which I gave without knowledge or volition. I gave them… each other….
This is not Aldo’s end, but his legacy, after all.