Remains of the Day
Title: Remains of the Day
Author: wrldpossibility
Characters: Lincoln Burrows, meantion of Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, LJ Burrows
Word Count: 335
Rating: PG
Spoilers: NONE. Post-series AU.
Summary: In the end, it's much like it had been in the beginning.
Author's Note: Another birthday drabble! This one for domfangirl (a day early, I know, but I'll be gone all day tomorrow). One worry I think many Lincoln fans have about the ending of PB is that in order for the writers to do justice to the Michael/Sara story, Lincoln's will be pushed to the wayside. I think that's a legitimate concern which this ficlet addresses. It's a bit melancoly, and I apologize for that, Candy, but I hope it rings true. (Oh, and obviously, the title was not originally my own.)
In the end, it’s much like it had been in the beginning.
It’s all about his brother.
It’s about paving his way, clearing his path, offering him a hand if he’ll accept it.
Linc’s not sure if he will. They’ve been divided, at odds, on opposite sides of a line drawn…much like they’d been before, seemingly so long ago in Chicago.
Then: the golden boy and the thug. Now: the righteous and the wronged.
He’s pretty sure he’s done playing the martyr. Because this isn’t Chicago. There’s no sleet and grit and jobs assigned by two-bit punks that will cost him his everything. Not anymore. The sun is warm on his back, the sand forgiving under his feet; even the light is softer…a cushion of yellow he could sink into.
And Michael is here. Sara is here. He can offer his help minus the back channels or cloak of anonymity he‘d wrapped himself in since before Fox River. He can put some honest muscle into the labor of putting a roof over their heads, helping them carve out a new home. A new life.
He sets to work without resentment.
He’s been the pseudo caregiver and the provider for so long, nothing else comes naturally. He could blame Aldo…he could blame his mother…but he won’t. Instead, he’ll be Michael’s right-hand man. He’ll make sure Sara’s well. He’ll sacrifice all the sweat and blood and tears both of them require. And require. And require.
And then, at the end of the day, he’ll go home. He’ll seek his son. He’ll find a place and a job and maybe a great take-out joint or two. He’ll be home for dinner every night and breakfast every morning, and after weeks--maybe months--LJ will adjust, and then thrive, and then probably go off on his own, too.
And only then, when there’s no one left, when the only cries in the night and footsteps pacing the floorboards are his own, will he chase whatever portion of happiness is left remaining to him.
Author: wrldpossibility
Characters: Lincoln Burrows, meantion of Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, LJ Burrows
Word Count: 335
Rating: PG
Spoilers: NONE. Post-series AU.
Summary: In the end, it's much like it had been in the beginning.
Author's Note: Another birthday drabble! This one for domfangirl (a day early, I know, but I'll be gone all day tomorrow). One worry I think many Lincoln fans have about the ending of PB is that in order for the writers to do justice to the Michael/Sara story, Lincoln's will be pushed to the wayside. I think that's a legitimate concern which this ficlet addresses. It's a bit melancoly, and I apologize for that, Candy, but I hope it rings true. (Oh, and obviously, the title was not originally my own.)
In the end, it’s much like it had been in the beginning.
It’s all about his brother.
It’s about paving his way, clearing his path, offering him a hand if he’ll accept it.
Linc’s not sure if he will. They’ve been divided, at odds, on opposite sides of a line drawn…much like they’d been before, seemingly so long ago in Chicago.
Then: the golden boy and the thug. Now: the righteous and the wronged.
He’s pretty sure he’s done playing the martyr. Because this isn’t Chicago. There’s no sleet and grit and jobs assigned by two-bit punks that will cost him his everything. Not anymore. The sun is warm on his back, the sand forgiving under his feet; even the light is softer…a cushion of yellow he could sink into.
And Michael is here. Sara is here. He can offer his help minus the back channels or cloak of anonymity he‘d wrapped himself in since before Fox River. He can put some honest muscle into the labor of putting a roof over their heads, helping them carve out a new home. A new life.
He sets to work without resentment.
He’s been the pseudo caregiver and the provider for so long, nothing else comes naturally. He could blame Aldo…he could blame his mother…but he won’t. Instead, he’ll be Michael’s right-hand man. He’ll make sure Sara’s well. He’ll sacrifice all the sweat and blood and tears both of them require. And require. And require.
And then, at the end of the day, he’ll go home. He’ll seek his son. He’ll find a place and a job and maybe a great take-out joint or two. He’ll be home for dinner every night and breakfast every morning, and after weeks--maybe months--LJ will adjust, and then thrive, and then probably go off on his own, too.
And only then, when there’s no one left, when the only cries in the night and footsteps pacing the floorboards are his own, will he chase whatever portion of happiness is left remaining to him.