The Effect of James Whistler, Chapter Four
Title: The Effect of James Whistler, Chapter Four
Author: domfangirl
Starring: Lincoln Burrows and Jane Phillips
Category: Multi-chapter
Rating: R (for some making out and bad language)
Summary: Season Three with Jane added to the mix.
Author’s Notes: So I asked a couple o’ Brits (miss_vacant and jolietjones) about their military, because I wanted to sound authentic for one stupid line in this chapter. Who knows if it worked? But thanks for the feedback, ladies!
When the fugitive women arrived back at the hotel where Michael, Sucre, and Sofia had stayed the night before while Jane and Lincoln had done-whatever they had done-Jane sent Sofia up alone. She stayed just outside the lobby doors, out in the sweltering heat of the day, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.
They had run close to five miles Jane guesstimated, but that was not why her chest hurt, or why she couldn’t bridge those last few steps between the first and the tenth floor. If anything was miraculous, the fact that Sofia could make it to the elevator doors with the shoebox carefully cradled in her arms was it. She was not the athlete that Jane was but the pain in Jane’s chest didn’t stem from the exertion; her chest hurt because an aggressive emotion had lodged itself there and she didn’t know how to dispel it.
The hopes of that young girl were pinned on the contents of that folded up piece of cardboard, and what Jane might have found there. In addition to that, she had placed her trust in a man who was as unworthy of it as he was capable of cultivating it.
Jane knew. She knew first hand.
Lincoln arrived at her side only about five minutes after Sofia disappeared inside the elevator, and it was as if a weight lifted off Jane when she saw him. He might infuriate her until the end of time, and he might walk away without ever pursuing what lay between them, but she trusted him, and she knew that that trust was a lifeline. She could depend on that, on him, and that meant more to her than anything else. The rest of it was superfluous; that she felt an attraction to him that seared away everything else she’d ever felt for anyone else and the very scary idea that she had somehow managed to fall in love with him in the middle of all this didn’t even matter anymore. Just seeing his face, and knowing he was there, that he would always be there in that supportive way, in the way that she most likely would not allow him to fulfill completely-just as she had never allowed Aldo to-strengthened her. Knowing he had her back gave her the ability to never actually need him to save her.
“What the fuck happened?” he asked harshly as he closed the distance between them. He hesitated briefly, but then his hand reached out and grabbed her elbow, the same way it had when she arrived at the hospital the day before. Only it felt different this time, and the way he pulled her towards him made Jane long to fling herself into his arms, the way Sofia had before they had parted company a few hours previously. “Are you all right?” he asked before she could respond to his first question.
“I’m fine,” Jane responded, and her hand came up between them, pressing against his chest. Maybe she was trying to keep space between them, she didn’t really know, but suddenly she felt the warmth and hardness of his body beneath her hand and caresses itched to emerge from her fingertips.
Lincoln looked almost defeated as he dropped his chin to his chest and sighed heavily. Then he released her arm and took one more step forward until the only way for them to not touch was for her to bodily back away from him. When she didn’t move, his arms encircled her and he pulled her tight against his chest, his face nuzzling into the curve of her neck as naturally as if they’d hugged thousands of times. He said nothing, but he didn’t need to, because as close as they were, his body did all his talking for him from the obvious to the more subtle thump-thumping of his heart against hers as he cradled her head in his hand and pulled her completely into him.
He’d obviously been scared, and now he was relieved because she was back, and safe. He’d been scared for her, and Jane’s heart twisted so sharply, her breath caught in her throat. She stood in his embrace for a few silent moments; the only sounds she heard came directly from Lincoln, his breath, his heartbeat, the sound of his hand sliding down her back over the material of her tank top. Her own arms were trapped against her side and between them, and he seemed not to care at all that she wasn’t hugging him in return. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hug him in return, but he didn’t really give her the chance.
As much as she wanted it to go on, and let this be what they both needed, she had to deal with the situation and deal with it quickly. “We have to get Sofia out of here, Linc,” she said, her voice soft, but firm. “We should get Michael and Sucre to take her out of Panama, the sooner the better.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice subdued against her ear.
“Because I know who James Whistler is, and as long as Sofia is here and a possible target, we’ll never get to the bottom of anything.” She loathed easing herself out of his arms, but knowing that here in broad daylight was not really the place for them to have a breakthrough caused her to do it anyway.
As she drew back so their eyes could meet, Lincoln’s hands shifted, clasping her hips gently without actually grabbing her indecently. “Who is he?” Lincoln asked.
The knot in Jane’s chest tightened briefly only to unravel when she announced, “He used to be my partner.”
*
Lincoln slid Jane’s cell phone from her shorts’ pocket so he could call his brother and instruct him to stay put with Sofia while he and Jane went back to Jane’s hotel. There was suddenly a whole lot for her to tell him, and secretly, he relished the role-reversal, as well as the familiarity between them. The effortlessness with which he’d just held her in his arms, in a totally non-sexual way-though it couldn’t last long because he didn’t think he was really capable of having a thought or intention towards Jane that didn’t eventually end up as a sexual one-carried over when he also patted her down and found the phone on her.
The idea that she needed him emotionally and mentally made him forget for the moment that the sexual tug between them was the strongest he’d ever felt in his life. He wanted to know who James Whistler was to her, and everything else could wait.
“When will your guys get here?” he asked, relaying the question to Jane from his brother through the phone.
“They’re going to call me when they are en route. I wasn’t expecting to hear from them until late this afternoon,” Jane replied.
“You got that?” Lincoln asked Michael.
“Yes, I heard her. So what, we’re just supposed to sit around here all day?”
Lincoln felt sure that Michael’s agitation had little to do with boredom and more to do with the danger of being in one place too long. But as much as the Panamanian authorities might want their star prisoner back at Sona, Lincoln had no worries that they would actually find Michael. They didn’t have much in the way of brains, as far as Lincoln could tell. “That’s what Jane wants to discuss with me. A plan to get you all out of here,” Lincoln said.
“Us all?” Michael questioned. “What about you all?” he said pointedly.
“One thing at a time, Mike. Come on. I’m not a fugitive anymore. I also didn’t kill Susan, so if anybody gave a shit about her, you’re on their list too. Let me talk to Jane, and then I’ll call you, okay?”
Michael grumblingly agreed, while Jane flagged down a taxi. Then they were off on their way back to the other hotel.
Though he wanted to very much, Lincoln refrained from touching Jane as they drove through the city. His contemplations about their situation swirled through his head.
He had always been a relatively simple person. In his previous life-before Fox River, before Conspiracies and Death and Unending Violence-he’d have thought nothing about bedding Jane, the sooner the better, and for as long as she’d let him. He knew the score, and women like Jane didn’t hang around with guys like Lincoln, at least not for long. Generally, if they found their way into his sector somehow, they were slumming it, and looking for just what he could offer them: a good time and no commitment.
That’s how it had been with every woman in his life except Veronica, because he’d loved her since they were both kids; and Lisa because she’d gotten pregnant with LJ, and they’d actually tried to be married to each other. There were no other women in Lincoln’s list of past lovers who held any distinction because they’d all left through the revolving door they’d entered in by, none of them staying long enough to make a lasting impression.
His simplicity made it easy to disregard them, as they had also disregarded him but there was no such simplicity between Jane and himself. For one thing, their chemistry was too volatile, and for another, what had brought them together was binding. He recognized it for what it was, and perhaps for the first time in his life he understood too well what he was getting himself into. Because he already cared so much, the possibility of emotional devastation loomed before him, the causes ranging from her eventually moving on just like all those other women to her dying, just like Veronica and Lisa.
Michael’s advice, though sound, because Michael couldn’t give anything less than the truth, did little to comfort Lincoln. He found himself wanting to protect her, to have some sort of guarantee he could offer her, so that she in return would offer him some assurance. He hoped that whatever she was about to tell him might lead him to that place, to some sort of security so that it would make sense in his head to send his brother and Sucre and Sofia away while he and Jane finished up this business once and for all.
That he had Michael’s blessing eased some of his guilt over his insane and inconvenient desire for this woman, but it didn’t feel like a solution either. He wanted Michael to be okay, and if he somehow was, and he supported this thing with Jane, Lincoln’s sense of self-protection should have dissolved quite easily. In theory, Lincoln had never been particular in that regard, and in the midst of reckless, impulsive behavior was a place he was most comfortable in anyway. He’d certainly spent plenty of time there. The only explanation for his restraint now was the bloody trail that followed him into Panama. He really didn’t know if he could survive another loss, and that was the bottom line. He needed to keep all the people left standing around him, and they had to be fully functional.
He knew it was foolhardy to think much beyond today as far as anything with Jane was concerned. Both of them could get killed at any time, and assuming they got out of this alive that would be the proper time to worry about whether or not it was real, how long it might last, and what he was willing to do to make it last. But it seemed that was something he was incapable of anymore. Fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants Linc had fallen by the wayside. If he went forward, he wanted it all, and he couldn’t see settling for less than that.
So it was better not to take any of it, just to be safe.
As they entered the hotel room, Lincoln could tell housekeeping had been by. The robe he had worn and discarded had been hung back on its hook, but now another matching one hung next to it. More clothes in Lincoln’s size sat folded up on top of the dresser and a note from the concierge read, If you need anything else, Miss Phillips, please let me know.
Lincoln looked at it and then raised his eyes to Jane’s. “What did you do to get this guy to kiss your beautiful ass?”
Jane smiled, and he wondered if it was because of his backhanded compliment or just because she had the concierge wrapped around her little finger. “I paid him well. That’s all it takes, really.”
Lincoln paused, looking at the note again before tossing it down on the dresser. “How is it that you have so much money, anyway?” He’d wondered about that when Michael had pulled out a bunch of bills to pay for the ammo that morning; it had been money he’d gotten from Jane.
Jane sat down on the bed, placing her cell phone and gun on the bedside table. She looked up at him and said seriously, “So Aldo didn’t get a chance to tell you about the money, huh?”
Lincoln stayed on his feet, halfway across the room from her. “There were a lot of things he didn’t get a chance to tell me,” Lincoln said, his voice low.
Jane’s face softened, and he noticed her expression changed to one he’d seen her give LJ. She became almost motherly as she said, “I suppose that’s true. He had a lot of money, Lincoln. He saved every penny he ever earned on all of his black ops stuff. He got paid millions for some of the things that he did, but not as much as he made in the last five years since he was actively working against The Company.”
When Jane patted the space on the bed next to her, Lincoln walked over and sat down. “’Actively working’? What does that mean?” he asked.
“He had been trying to bring them down from the inside for over ten years. When that got too dangerous, he had to go rogue-leave The Company without their permission-which made his life open to the highest bidder. It’s actually ironic that that FBI Agent is the one who got him; he avoided capture and assassination too many times for me to count.” Jane reached out tentatively and wrapped her fingers around Lincoln’s hand, which he allowed, he told himself because she was talking about his dead father. “But when it came to you boys, he got reckless, and did things I-“ she stopped talking and just shook her head.
“What?” Lincoln prodded when she failed to continue.
“Let’s just say I had a few arguments with him like I’ve had with you.”
Her thumb slid gently over his knuckles, and Lincoln felt as though he’d gone back in time 20 years to when a simple touch from a girl could create all kinds of havoc within his body. “Maybe if he’d listened to you, he’d still be here,” Lincoln said, swallowing the truth of his statement as it penetrated the air between them.
“We’ll never know that, and there’s no point in what if-ing ourselves. It won’t solve anything,” Jane said, her voice so soft and sweet, Lincoln was hard-pressed to reconcile that this was the same woman who had slammed him into the wall at the hospital. Except that he could remember vividly standing in the shower with her less than 24 hours ago while her capable hands washed his body. Jane was a myriad of things, and Lincoln greatly desired all of them.
He shifted on the bed, but her hand didn’t loosen from around his. “If you think it’s best to get Sofia out of Panama, I agree with you. But I want them to take LJ with them, so is there anyway to stall it out until the end of the week, when he can get out of the hospital?” Lincoln made up his mind right then that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes his father had.
Jane nodded. “We should be able to do that, because I doubt they’re going to kill James Whistler anytime soon. His real name is James Tehaney, by the way. And he’s not Australian; he’s British. And he’s not with them willingly, I’m sure of it.”
*
The story of James Tehaney, as told by Jane Phillips, made Lincoln wonder how the hell anyone ever got through life. He knew that it was a fucking miracle he, Michael, and LJ were still alive, but with every piece of the puzzle, he understood it was so much more of a miracle than he had first considered.
James had been recruited, like Jane, because he’d served in the Military. While Jane had been with the 101st Airborne Division of the U.S. Army, Whistler-Tehaney!-had been a Royal Marine with the British Navy. A decorated soldier generally caught the eye of The Company first, and that was how they had both come into recruitment. They had each been under contract for a couple of years before they were assigned to be partners; their partnership had served a few different purposes. Their undercover work was less detectable because they could pass for a married couple, or even siblings, if need be. James could do a decent American accent, so they had had a few ops like that. As soldiers they were both equal in their ability to protect each other. They were a perfect match as far as The Company was concerned.
As Jane went on with the story, Lincoln found that his arm around her seemed to make it easier for her to talk, and before she finished, they were sitting propped up against the headboard of the bed, with her head tucked up under his chin. He knew instinctively that she was only like this with him and it warmed his blood and messed with his resolve to wait until a better, more convenient time. Strangely, without any detail on her part, he could tell that the emotions she still held for this man were not of a romantic nature; on the other hand, there seemed to be a deep well of hurt underlying his betrayal, but Lincoln had the sense to chalk that up to not understanding that sort of partnership. To place your trust in someone like that, every day, must form a bond of kinship, and Lincoln was wise enough to know he’d never had that with anyone, not even Michael. He’d never had that level of trust with anyone. It was impossible for him to let go that much. Even believing Michael would get him out of Fox River had never fully formed into absolute trust, not until they were actually escaping, and by then it was too late for it truly mean anything.
Jane elaborated on the last time she’d seen James. “Our last mission together was in Vienna. It was typical, could have been a textbook case, but at the last minute, everything went wrong. He was shot in the chaos, and we got separated. I made it back to the rendezvous point and was airlifted out. We were later informed he died at the scene and that his body was being held by the Austrian authorities. The Company has a policy of not claiming their operatives, as you can imagine.
“I was devastated. A few weeks later, your father contacted me. He appealed to me based on my loss. He asked me to consider how little we were valued by The Company and to search my heart about what I did as their employee. It was the right time. I had had enough, and James’ death was just the proverbial straw.”
“How long ago was that?” Lincoln asked.
“Three and half years.” Jane sat up, retreating from his grasp, and Lincoln missed her instantly. “About the time you went into Fox River, your father was recruiting me.”
“So, everyone thought Whistler was dead?” Lincoln asked rhetorically. “Did he fake his own death? What was the purpose? To double cross you, or to escape The Company?”
“That’s exactly what I’m wondering. Perhaps he was offering me up, but I got away, so it went badly. If it was purely to get himself out, I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. We both knew about it, and had talked about The Company’s shady dealings-though neither of us ever made any noise about getting out. It was more like we knew what we were involved in, but it hadn’t gone far enough yet to spur us to anything.” She paused. “But we were partners, we had no secrets from each other,” she said, and then a laugh tumbled from her lips and she shook her head as she moved towards the edge of the bed, further away from Lincoln.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing. Nothing’s funny, except that Sofia said the same thing to me about James earlier. They had no secrets from each other-only he’s a master secret keeper. The question is now, however, just what are his secrets?” Jane pushed her hands through her hair, pulling the band free that had held it back in a ponytail. She scratched at her scalp, massaging her thumbs into her temples and weaving her fingers through her hair. “God, I’ve got such a tension headache,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
Lincoln’s eyes became somewhat mesmerized by the golden blonde strands falling over her hands and wrists, but he managed to ask another question and keep his mind on the facts at hand. “Why exactly do you want to get rid of Sofia then?”
Jane shifted, turning back toward him and her knee pressed against his thigh. “If he really cares about her, she’s a pawn to them. They won’t hesitate to kill her or torture her or-well, do what they did to Sara, if it will get him to do whatever they want. And they went to a lot of trouble to get him out of Sona. They don’t want him dead-at least not yet.”
“But you think they will kill him?” he asked, and his hand moved of its own volition to the small of her back, his fingers imitating hers, only pressing warmly into the muscles at the base of her spine while her own fingers slipped down her neck and continued to try to relieve her tension.
“Sure, if he won’t do what they want, or when they get whatever information from him they want and he’s expendable. Hmmm,” Jane hummed in her throat, her back arching slightly under his hand. “That’s nice, baby,” she murmured, and Lincoln grew hard and hot in one giant rush of feeling.
Before he could formulate another question to ask her, his arm had curled around her and brought her back around to face him. His lips found hers unerringly and she melted against him, soft and pliant and so damn easily, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anyone fall so straightforwardly into his arms. Maybe no one but Jane ever had.
Their lips melded, retreated, and melded again and Jane turned completely into him, her body pressing against his until she was half on top of him. He wanted to slide down so he was prone and then he could deftly roll her beneath him. He wanted it so much that there was actual physical pain that had nothing to do with the blood rushing to his groin.
Jane hands were on his face, and around his neck and then sliding up the back of his head, greedy and caressing, while her tongue parried with his in such a way that he knew no matter what they’d been talking about, really this is all that had been on either of their minds. When she eased herself up and swung her leg over him so that she sat straddling his lap, he automatically moved forward into her. Their shorts rubbed as their middle sections came together perfectly, the thinness of the material leaving Lincoln with little to imagine as their combined heat caused friction without movement. He arched unconsciously and she rubbed herself against him seductively, wrenching a groan from his throat. “Oh, God,” he whispered fervently, his hands somehow under her tank top, and the bare flesh of her back beneath his fingers. He pulled her tightly into him, but broke the kiss, yanking his mouth from hers, though their foreheads rolled together. It left Jane gasping for air, but the sound was filled with longing and pleasure. It skittered through Lincoln’s bloodstream and attempted to rob him of all coherent thought.
“Please, Lincoln,” she breathed, her fingers moving to cradle his face gently. “Don’t say no,” she pleaded, but there was some aspect of strength in her request, because that was the only explanation Lincoln could come up with as to how he got his next words out.
The real fear spilled from his lips and he knew there was no other way to make her understand than the absolute truth. “I’d rather go on starving than know what I’m missing,” he said, his voice rough and uneven. “I want you, Jane. So fuckin’ much, but I just…can’t. I can’t,” he said again and he slid his hands out from under her shirt and placed them on her shoulders, pushing her back from him.
Jane’s blue eyes were dilated, the dark irises overshadowing the lighter edges for the length of time it took her to comprehend that he was putting an end to things again. He waited for her to berate him, since he’d been the one to start things as well as end them, but she only took a deep breath before climbing off of him. She somehow maintained a grace and dignity that made Lincoln want to scramble from the bed and punch the wall, but instead he just swung his legs the opposite direction from her and pushed them over the edge of the mattress.
She shifted behind him and then her arms surrounded his shoulders tightly. She pressed her face against the nape of his neck so that he felt her breath against his skin and he thought she was actually going to say something, but in the end, she didn’t; she just held him until he finally raised his hands and patted her arms awkwardly. The weight of her unspoken words lay upon his heart, and not for the first time he wondered what in the world had happened between them.
He’d never been one to ease an uncomfortable situation, but he’d never been in any situation like this one. Finally, he found something to say that took them back to the earlier part of their conversation. “You said you had fights with my dad like you have with me. You ever slam him up against a wall?”
Jane chuckled and then slowly let him go. He turned his head so he could see her peripherally. “No. He would have knocked me flat. He didn’t have a case of chivalry around me, like you do.” She stayed sitting on the bed, though she moved totally away from him.
“Did you love him?” he asked softly. What he really wondered was if his father had loved Jane. In reality, he couldn’t imagine that Aldo hadn’t. Everything about her called to him, and he recognized why his son was so enamored of her as well.
“I did,” she answered truthfully. “I loved him like he was my father, but I could never take the place of his sons.”
Lincoln’s head swiveled all the way around to look at her. “Were you trying to take our place?” he asked quizzically. It seemed like such a strange thing to say.
She smiled as she got to her feet. “No. I just thought you’d like to know that his only interest in me was because he believed I was so good at my job I could help him achieve his goals.”
“I doubt that was his only interest in you,” Lincoln muttered, getting up from the bed also. When she looked a little affronted, he quickly added. “I just mean, you’re wonderful, Jane. How could he not have appreciated you?”
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she shrugged and moved towards the bathroom. “He was a man, that’s how.”
*
It had been a long time since Jane had hidden in the bathroom like a teenaged girl. But that’s exactly what she was doing.
She was so fucking in love with Lincoln Burrows, she could hardly think straight, and despite the fact that he was pushing her away physically, she’d never in all her life had someone pull her in tighter emotionally through rejection. I’d rather go on starving than know what I’m missing. Not her, she thought, though the implications of that one sentence only made her crazier about him. She vowed that she would live, if for no other reason than to bed down with Lincoln and have a shot at making sure he never went hungry again. Beyond that, she thought she might actually want to love him for the rest of her life.
“Jane?” He knocked on the bathroom door, and the tone surrounding her name held concern. She had no idea how long she had been in there battling her thoughts and feelings for a clear, collected mindset that would allow her to do her job effectively.
She opened the door and pasted a big smile on her face. “Shall we go explain this whole thing to your impatient brother?” she asked enthusiastically.
Lincoln’s eyes widened, and she knew she’d taken him by surprise. “Well, sure,” he hedged. “Though I’m not really clear on what we’re doing, other than you think getting Sofia outta Panama is the safest thing for her.”
“I know Michael doesn’t like being kept out of the loop anymore than you do, but I just couldn’t tell that whole thing to a crowd,” she said, moving around him when he stayed standing right in front of the bathroom door. “I appreciate you listening to me.”
There was some sort of sound from behind her, like a grunt of acceptance, but Lincoln said nothing. She moved to her suitcase, pulling things from it so she could get her laptop out. She looked over her shoulder at him. “When you lose your partner, it messes with your head,” she explained. “You don’t know how many times I went over the scenario: what I could have done differently to save James. The fact that he’s alive-it makes it very personal for me, Lincoln. I have to get his ass outta there, because he’s going to explain himself to me. I might kill him afterwards, but I’m going to hear what he has to say first. It would be best if you all were far away from what’s about to happen.”
“Wait a fuckin’ minute,” he growled, stepping towards her. “I’m not going anywhere. You can send the fugitive, his sidekick, and the girl in danger off, and I’ll be glad to send LJ with them for safe keeping, but if you think I’m going to leave you here alone-“
“I won’t be alone,” she interrupted. “My team is coming, remember?”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not leaving.”
Jane tucked the laptop up under her arm. “Why not? You don’t want to be invested here, and I understand that. I sympathize with you. So why not just walk away and let us handle it? If I survive, I’ll come find you.”
She had seen Aldo succumb to anger several times, and the similarities between that and what happened right in front of her eyes as Lincoln’s face got red and his eyes sparked dangerously almost made her grin. She was being honest, and if Lincoln wanted to leave she wouldn’t stop him. But she knew despite his fear, he was not without courage, and he certainly didn’t like the implication that he didn’t care at all just because he wouldn’t fuck her.
What was even funnier was he didn’t argue with her, he just glared at her and then lifted one arm from his chest to point a finger at her. “I’m not leaving, and you can’t make me.”
Jane turned away and muttered, “All right.” The reality was she could make him leave. There were any number of ways to convince him. But she didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him there with her, and she wanted him there when it was over. She sat back down on the bed and looked up at him as she lifted the screen of her laptop. “If you stay, you have to make me a promise.”
“I’ll do whatever you say,” he said without prompting.
Jane laughed, surprised by his capitulation. “Well, that’s great, though that wasn’t the promise I was looking for.”
“What then?” he asked suspiciously.
“When this is over, you have to have sex with me. No pulling back, no holding out on me.” She said it while looking him directly at him.
The color that had risen with his anger seemed to drain out of his face with her demand. He appeared to have been struck dumb, too, because he just looked at her and said nothing.
“Promise?” she prompted in the wake of his silence.
“I promise,” he finally said, his tone ragged.
“Good,” Jane said briskly, dropping her eyes to the computer screen. “Now, I’m going to look up a map of the area that you last saw James in, and see what I can find.” Her fingers moved over the keyboard as she signed into her email account. “You call Michael and explain what’s going on to him. Let’s meet up with them again-how about the hospital again? We can see LJ, find out exactly when we can move him and then make the arrangements to get them out of the country.”
Lincoln walked across the room to pick up Jane’s cell phone, but then he stayed standing next to the bed where she was perched. She looked up when he didn’t respond to her outline for the rest of their day. His eyes were somber as he watched her. “What?” she asked gently.
“If we survive this, there are a lot of other promises to make, you know.” The idea seemed to fill him with immense gravity, but Jane felt buoyed up by the suggestion.
“I do know,” she said. Raising her hand she touched his arm softly. “First things first,” she advised, giving him a long, measuring look.
He nodded curtly and then flipped her phone open to call his brother.
Chapter Five
Author: domfangirl
Starring: Lincoln Burrows and Jane Phillips
Category: Multi-chapter
Rating: R (for some making out and bad language)
Summary: Season Three with Jane added to the mix.
Author’s Notes: So I asked a couple o’ Brits (miss_vacant and jolietjones) about their military, because I wanted to sound authentic for one stupid line in this chapter. Who knows if it worked? But thanks for the feedback, ladies!
When the fugitive women arrived back at the hotel where Michael, Sucre, and Sofia had stayed the night before while Jane and Lincoln had done-whatever they had done-Jane sent Sofia up alone. She stayed just outside the lobby doors, out in the sweltering heat of the day, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.
They had run close to five miles Jane guesstimated, but that was not why her chest hurt, or why she couldn’t bridge those last few steps between the first and the tenth floor. If anything was miraculous, the fact that Sofia could make it to the elevator doors with the shoebox carefully cradled in her arms was it. She was not the athlete that Jane was but the pain in Jane’s chest didn’t stem from the exertion; her chest hurt because an aggressive emotion had lodged itself there and she didn’t know how to dispel it.
The hopes of that young girl were pinned on the contents of that folded up piece of cardboard, and what Jane might have found there. In addition to that, she had placed her trust in a man who was as unworthy of it as he was capable of cultivating it.
Jane knew. She knew first hand.
Lincoln arrived at her side only about five minutes after Sofia disappeared inside the elevator, and it was as if a weight lifted off Jane when she saw him. He might infuriate her until the end of time, and he might walk away without ever pursuing what lay between them, but she trusted him, and she knew that that trust was a lifeline. She could depend on that, on him, and that meant more to her than anything else. The rest of it was superfluous; that she felt an attraction to him that seared away everything else she’d ever felt for anyone else and the very scary idea that she had somehow managed to fall in love with him in the middle of all this didn’t even matter anymore. Just seeing his face, and knowing he was there, that he would always be there in that supportive way, in the way that she most likely would not allow him to fulfill completely-just as she had never allowed Aldo to-strengthened her. Knowing he had her back gave her the ability to never actually need him to save her.
“What the fuck happened?” he asked harshly as he closed the distance between them. He hesitated briefly, but then his hand reached out and grabbed her elbow, the same way it had when she arrived at the hospital the day before. Only it felt different this time, and the way he pulled her towards him made Jane long to fling herself into his arms, the way Sofia had before they had parted company a few hours previously. “Are you all right?” he asked before she could respond to his first question.
“I’m fine,” Jane responded, and her hand came up between them, pressing against his chest. Maybe she was trying to keep space between them, she didn’t really know, but suddenly she felt the warmth and hardness of his body beneath her hand and caresses itched to emerge from her fingertips.
Lincoln looked almost defeated as he dropped his chin to his chest and sighed heavily. Then he released her arm and took one more step forward until the only way for them to not touch was for her to bodily back away from him. When she didn’t move, his arms encircled her and he pulled her tight against his chest, his face nuzzling into the curve of her neck as naturally as if they’d hugged thousands of times. He said nothing, but he didn’t need to, because as close as they were, his body did all his talking for him from the obvious to the more subtle thump-thumping of his heart against hers as he cradled her head in his hand and pulled her completely into him.
He’d obviously been scared, and now he was relieved because she was back, and safe. He’d been scared for her, and Jane’s heart twisted so sharply, her breath caught in her throat. She stood in his embrace for a few silent moments; the only sounds she heard came directly from Lincoln, his breath, his heartbeat, the sound of his hand sliding down her back over the material of her tank top. Her own arms were trapped against her side and between them, and he seemed not to care at all that she wasn’t hugging him in return. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hug him in return, but he didn’t really give her the chance.
As much as she wanted it to go on, and let this be what they both needed, she had to deal with the situation and deal with it quickly. “We have to get Sofia out of here, Linc,” she said, her voice soft, but firm. “We should get Michael and Sucre to take her out of Panama, the sooner the better.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice subdued against her ear.
“Because I know who James Whistler is, and as long as Sofia is here and a possible target, we’ll never get to the bottom of anything.” She loathed easing herself out of his arms, but knowing that here in broad daylight was not really the place for them to have a breakthrough caused her to do it anyway.
As she drew back so their eyes could meet, Lincoln’s hands shifted, clasping her hips gently without actually grabbing her indecently. “Who is he?” Lincoln asked.
The knot in Jane’s chest tightened briefly only to unravel when she announced, “He used to be my partner.”
*
Lincoln slid Jane’s cell phone from her shorts’ pocket so he could call his brother and instruct him to stay put with Sofia while he and Jane went back to Jane’s hotel. There was suddenly a whole lot for her to tell him, and secretly, he relished the role-reversal, as well as the familiarity between them. The effortlessness with which he’d just held her in his arms, in a totally non-sexual way-though it couldn’t last long because he didn’t think he was really capable of having a thought or intention towards Jane that didn’t eventually end up as a sexual one-carried over when he also patted her down and found the phone on her.
The idea that she needed him emotionally and mentally made him forget for the moment that the sexual tug between them was the strongest he’d ever felt in his life. He wanted to know who James Whistler was to her, and everything else could wait.
“When will your guys get here?” he asked, relaying the question to Jane from his brother through the phone.
“They’re going to call me when they are en route. I wasn’t expecting to hear from them until late this afternoon,” Jane replied.
“You got that?” Lincoln asked Michael.
“Yes, I heard her. So what, we’re just supposed to sit around here all day?”
Lincoln felt sure that Michael’s agitation had little to do with boredom and more to do with the danger of being in one place too long. But as much as the Panamanian authorities might want their star prisoner back at Sona, Lincoln had no worries that they would actually find Michael. They didn’t have much in the way of brains, as far as Lincoln could tell. “That’s what Jane wants to discuss with me. A plan to get you all out of here,” Lincoln said.
“Us all?” Michael questioned. “What about you all?” he said pointedly.
“One thing at a time, Mike. Come on. I’m not a fugitive anymore. I also didn’t kill Susan, so if anybody gave a shit about her, you’re on their list too. Let me talk to Jane, and then I’ll call you, okay?”
Michael grumblingly agreed, while Jane flagged down a taxi. Then they were off on their way back to the other hotel.
Though he wanted to very much, Lincoln refrained from touching Jane as they drove through the city. His contemplations about their situation swirled through his head.
He had always been a relatively simple person. In his previous life-before Fox River, before Conspiracies and Death and Unending Violence-he’d have thought nothing about bedding Jane, the sooner the better, and for as long as she’d let him. He knew the score, and women like Jane didn’t hang around with guys like Lincoln, at least not for long. Generally, if they found their way into his sector somehow, they were slumming it, and looking for just what he could offer them: a good time and no commitment.
That’s how it had been with every woman in his life except Veronica, because he’d loved her since they were both kids; and Lisa because she’d gotten pregnant with LJ, and they’d actually tried to be married to each other. There were no other women in Lincoln’s list of past lovers who held any distinction because they’d all left through the revolving door they’d entered in by, none of them staying long enough to make a lasting impression.
His simplicity made it easy to disregard them, as they had also disregarded him but there was no such simplicity between Jane and himself. For one thing, their chemistry was too volatile, and for another, what had brought them together was binding. He recognized it for what it was, and perhaps for the first time in his life he understood too well what he was getting himself into. Because he already cared so much, the possibility of emotional devastation loomed before him, the causes ranging from her eventually moving on just like all those other women to her dying, just like Veronica and Lisa.
Michael’s advice, though sound, because Michael couldn’t give anything less than the truth, did little to comfort Lincoln. He found himself wanting to protect her, to have some sort of guarantee he could offer her, so that she in return would offer him some assurance. He hoped that whatever she was about to tell him might lead him to that place, to some sort of security so that it would make sense in his head to send his brother and Sucre and Sofia away while he and Jane finished up this business once and for all.
That he had Michael’s blessing eased some of his guilt over his insane and inconvenient desire for this woman, but it didn’t feel like a solution either. He wanted Michael to be okay, and if he somehow was, and he supported this thing with Jane, Lincoln’s sense of self-protection should have dissolved quite easily. In theory, Lincoln had never been particular in that regard, and in the midst of reckless, impulsive behavior was a place he was most comfortable in anyway. He’d certainly spent plenty of time there. The only explanation for his restraint now was the bloody trail that followed him into Panama. He really didn’t know if he could survive another loss, and that was the bottom line. He needed to keep all the people left standing around him, and they had to be fully functional.
He knew it was foolhardy to think much beyond today as far as anything with Jane was concerned. Both of them could get killed at any time, and assuming they got out of this alive that would be the proper time to worry about whether or not it was real, how long it might last, and what he was willing to do to make it last. But it seemed that was something he was incapable of anymore. Fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants Linc had fallen by the wayside. If he went forward, he wanted it all, and he couldn’t see settling for less than that.
So it was better not to take any of it, just to be safe.
As they entered the hotel room, Lincoln could tell housekeeping had been by. The robe he had worn and discarded had been hung back on its hook, but now another matching one hung next to it. More clothes in Lincoln’s size sat folded up on top of the dresser and a note from the concierge read, If you need anything else, Miss Phillips, please let me know.
Lincoln looked at it and then raised his eyes to Jane’s. “What did you do to get this guy to kiss your beautiful ass?”
Jane smiled, and he wondered if it was because of his backhanded compliment or just because she had the concierge wrapped around her little finger. “I paid him well. That’s all it takes, really.”
Lincoln paused, looking at the note again before tossing it down on the dresser. “How is it that you have so much money, anyway?” He’d wondered about that when Michael had pulled out a bunch of bills to pay for the ammo that morning; it had been money he’d gotten from Jane.
Jane sat down on the bed, placing her cell phone and gun on the bedside table. She looked up at him and said seriously, “So Aldo didn’t get a chance to tell you about the money, huh?”
Lincoln stayed on his feet, halfway across the room from her. “There were a lot of things he didn’t get a chance to tell me,” Lincoln said, his voice low.
Jane’s face softened, and he noticed her expression changed to one he’d seen her give LJ. She became almost motherly as she said, “I suppose that’s true. He had a lot of money, Lincoln. He saved every penny he ever earned on all of his black ops stuff. He got paid millions for some of the things that he did, but not as much as he made in the last five years since he was actively working against The Company.”
When Jane patted the space on the bed next to her, Lincoln walked over and sat down. “’Actively working’? What does that mean?” he asked.
“He had been trying to bring them down from the inside for over ten years. When that got too dangerous, he had to go rogue-leave The Company without their permission-which made his life open to the highest bidder. It’s actually ironic that that FBI Agent is the one who got him; he avoided capture and assassination too many times for me to count.” Jane reached out tentatively and wrapped her fingers around Lincoln’s hand, which he allowed, he told himself because she was talking about his dead father. “But when it came to you boys, he got reckless, and did things I-“ she stopped talking and just shook her head.
“What?” Lincoln prodded when she failed to continue.
“Let’s just say I had a few arguments with him like I’ve had with you.”
Her thumb slid gently over his knuckles, and Lincoln felt as though he’d gone back in time 20 years to when a simple touch from a girl could create all kinds of havoc within his body. “Maybe if he’d listened to you, he’d still be here,” Lincoln said, swallowing the truth of his statement as it penetrated the air between them.
“We’ll never know that, and there’s no point in what if-ing ourselves. It won’t solve anything,” Jane said, her voice so soft and sweet, Lincoln was hard-pressed to reconcile that this was the same woman who had slammed him into the wall at the hospital. Except that he could remember vividly standing in the shower with her less than 24 hours ago while her capable hands washed his body. Jane was a myriad of things, and Lincoln greatly desired all of them.
He shifted on the bed, but her hand didn’t loosen from around his. “If you think it’s best to get Sofia out of Panama, I agree with you. But I want them to take LJ with them, so is there anyway to stall it out until the end of the week, when he can get out of the hospital?” Lincoln made up his mind right then that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes his father had.
Jane nodded. “We should be able to do that, because I doubt they’re going to kill James Whistler anytime soon. His real name is James Tehaney, by the way. And he’s not Australian; he’s British. And he’s not with them willingly, I’m sure of it.”
*
The story of James Tehaney, as told by Jane Phillips, made Lincoln wonder how the hell anyone ever got through life. He knew that it was a fucking miracle he, Michael, and LJ were still alive, but with every piece of the puzzle, he understood it was so much more of a miracle than he had first considered.
James had been recruited, like Jane, because he’d served in the Military. While Jane had been with the 101st Airborne Division of the U.S. Army, Whistler-Tehaney!-had been a Royal Marine with the British Navy. A decorated soldier generally caught the eye of The Company first, and that was how they had both come into recruitment. They had each been under contract for a couple of years before they were assigned to be partners; their partnership had served a few different purposes. Their undercover work was less detectable because they could pass for a married couple, or even siblings, if need be. James could do a decent American accent, so they had had a few ops like that. As soldiers they were both equal in their ability to protect each other. They were a perfect match as far as The Company was concerned.
As Jane went on with the story, Lincoln found that his arm around her seemed to make it easier for her to talk, and before she finished, they were sitting propped up against the headboard of the bed, with her head tucked up under his chin. He knew instinctively that she was only like this with him and it warmed his blood and messed with his resolve to wait until a better, more convenient time. Strangely, without any detail on her part, he could tell that the emotions she still held for this man were not of a romantic nature; on the other hand, there seemed to be a deep well of hurt underlying his betrayal, but Lincoln had the sense to chalk that up to not understanding that sort of partnership. To place your trust in someone like that, every day, must form a bond of kinship, and Lincoln was wise enough to know he’d never had that with anyone, not even Michael. He’d never had that level of trust with anyone. It was impossible for him to let go that much. Even believing Michael would get him out of Fox River had never fully formed into absolute trust, not until they were actually escaping, and by then it was too late for it truly mean anything.
Jane elaborated on the last time she’d seen James. “Our last mission together was in Vienna. It was typical, could have been a textbook case, but at the last minute, everything went wrong. He was shot in the chaos, and we got separated. I made it back to the rendezvous point and was airlifted out. We were later informed he died at the scene and that his body was being held by the Austrian authorities. The Company has a policy of not claiming their operatives, as you can imagine.
“I was devastated. A few weeks later, your father contacted me. He appealed to me based on my loss. He asked me to consider how little we were valued by The Company and to search my heart about what I did as their employee. It was the right time. I had had enough, and James’ death was just the proverbial straw.”
“How long ago was that?” Lincoln asked.
“Three and half years.” Jane sat up, retreating from his grasp, and Lincoln missed her instantly. “About the time you went into Fox River, your father was recruiting me.”
“So, everyone thought Whistler was dead?” Lincoln asked rhetorically. “Did he fake his own death? What was the purpose? To double cross you, or to escape The Company?”
“That’s exactly what I’m wondering. Perhaps he was offering me up, but I got away, so it went badly. If it was purely to get himself out, I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. We both knew about it, and had talked about The Company’s shady dealings-though neither of us ever made any noise about getting out. It was more like we knew what we were involved in, but it hadn’t gone far enough yet to spur us to anything.” She paused. “But we were partners, we had no secrets from each other,” she said, and then a laugh tumbled from her lips and she shook her head as she moved towards the edge of the bed, further away from Lincoln.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing. Nothing’s funny, except that Sofia said the same thing to me about James earlier. They had no secrets from each other-only he’s a master secret keeper. The question is now, however, just what are his secrets?” Jane pushed her hands through her hair, pulling the band free that had held it back in a ponytail. She scratched at her scalp, massaging her thumbs into her temples and weaving her fingers through her hair. “God, I’ve got such a tension headache,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
Lincoln’s eyes became somewhat mesmerized by the golden blonde strands falling over her hands and wrists, but he managed to ask another question and keep his mind on the facts at hand. “Why exactly do you want to get rid of Sofia then?”
Jane shifted, turning back toward him and her knee pressed against his thigh. “If he really cares about her, she’s a pawn to them. They won’t hesitate to kill her or torture her or-well, do what they did to Sara, if it will get him to do whatever they want. And they went to a lot of trouble to get him out of Sona. They don’t want him dead-at least not yet.”
“But you think they will kill him?” he asked, and his hand moved of its own volition to the small of her back, his fingers imitating hers, only pressing warmly into the muscles at the base of her spine while her own fingers slipped down her neck and continued to try to relieve her tension.
“Sure, if he won’t do what they want, or when they get whatever information from him they want and he’s expendable. Hmmm,” Jane hummed in her throat, her back arching slightly under his hand. “That’s nice, baby,” she murmured, and Lincoln grew hard and hot in one giant rush of feeling.
Before he could formulate another question to ask her, his arm had curled around her and brought her back around to face him. His lips found hers unerringly and she melted against him, soft and pliant and so damn easily, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anyone fall so straightforwardly into his arms. Maybe no one but Jane ever had.
Their lips melded, retreated, and melded again and Jane turned completely into him, her body pressing against his until she was half on top of him. He wanted to slide down so he was prone and then he could deftly roll her beneath him. He wanted it so much that there was actual physical pain that had nothing to do with the blood rushing to his groin.
Jane hands were on his face, and around his neck and then sliding up the back of his head, greedy and caressing, while her tongue parried with his in such a way that he knew no matter what they’d been talking about, really this is all that had been on either of their minds. When she eased herself up and swung her leg over him so that she sat straddling his lap, he automatically moved forward into her. Their shorts rubbed as their middle sections came together perfectly, the thinness of the material leaving Lincoln with little to imagine as their combined heat caused friction without movement. He arched unconsciously and she rubbed herself against him seductively, wrenching a groan from his throat. “Oh, God,” he whispered fervently, his hands somehow under her tank top, and the bare flesh of her back beneath his fingers. He pulled her tightly into him, but broke the kiss, yanking his mouth from hers, though their foreheads rolled together. It left Jane gasping for air, but the sound was filled with longing and pleasure. It skittered through Lincoln’s bloodstream and attempted to rob him of all coherent thought.
“Please, Lincoln,” she breathed, her fingers moving to cradle his face gently. “Don’t say no,” she pleaded, but there was some aspect of strength in her request, because that was the only explanation Lincoln could come up with as to how he got his next words out.
The real fear spilled from his lips and he knew there was no other way to make her understand than the absolute truth. “I’d rather go on starving than know what I’m missing,” he said, his voice rough and uneven. “I want you, Jane. So fuckin’ much, but I just…can’t. I can’t,” he said again and he slid his hands out from under her shirt and placed them on her shoulders, pushing her back from him.
Jane’s blue eyes were dilated, the dark irises overshadowing the lighter edges for the length of time it took her to comprehend that he was putting an end to things again. He waited for her to berate him, since he’d been the one to start things as well as end them, but she only took a deep breath before climbing off of him. She somehow maintained a grace and dignity that made Lincoln want to scramble from the bed and punch the wall, but instead he just swung his legs the opposite direction from her and pushed them over the edge of the mattress.
She shifted behind him and then her arms surrounded his shoulders tightly. She pressed her face against the nape of his neck so that he felt her breath against his skin and he thought she was actually going to say something, but in the end, she didn’t; she just held him until he finally raised his hands and patted her arms awkwardly. The weight of her unspoken words lay upon his heart, and not for the first time he wondered what in the world had happened between them.
He’d never been one to ease an uncomfortable situation, but he’d never been in any situation like this one. Finally, he found something to say that took them back to the earlier part of their conversation. “You said you had fights with my dad like you have with me. You ever slam him up against a wall?”
Jane chuckled and then slowly let him go. He turned his head so he could see her peripherally. “No. He would have knocked me flat. He didn’t have a case of chivalry around me, like you do.” She stayed sitting on the bed, though she moved totally away from him.
“Did you love him?” he asked softly. What he really wondered was if his father had loved Jane. In reality, he couldn’t imagine that Aldo hadn’t. Everything about her called to him, and he recognized why his son was so enamored of her as well.
“I did,” she answered truthfully. “I loved him like he was my father, but I could never take the place of his sons.”
Lincoln’s head swiveled all the way around to look at her. “Were you trying to take our place?” he asked quizzically. It seemed like such a strange thing to say.
She smiled as she got to her feet. “No. I just thought you’d like to know that his only interest in me was because he believed I was so good at my job I could help him achieve his goals.”
“I doubt that was his only interest in you,” Lincoln muttered, getting up from the bed also. When she looked a little affronted, he quickly added. “I just mean, you’re wonderful, Jane. How could he not have appreciated you?”
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she shrugged and moved towards the bathroom. “He was a man, that’s how.”
*
It had been a long time since Jane had hidden in the bathroom like a teenaged girl. But that’s exactly what she was doing.
She was so fucking in love with Lincoln Burrows, she could hardly think straight, and despite the fact that he was pushing her away physically, she’d never in all her life had someone pull her in tighter emotionally through rejection. I’d rather go on starving than know what I’m missing. Not her, she thought, though the implications of that one sentence only made her crazier about him. She vowed that she would live, if for no other reason than to bed down with Lincoln and have a shot at making sure he never went hungry again. Beyond that, she thought she might actually want to love him for the rest of her life.
“Jane?” He knocked on the bathroom door, and the tone surrounding her name held concern. She had no idea how long she had been in there battling her thoughts and feelings for a clear, collected mindset that would allow her to do her job effectively.
She opened the door and pasted a big smile on her face. “Shall we go explain this whole thing to your impatient brother?” she asked enthusiastically.
Lincoln’s eyes widened, and she knew she’d taken him by surprise. “Well, sure,” he hedged. “Though I’m not really clear on what we’re doing, other than you think getting Sofia outta Panama is the safest thing for her.”
“I know Michael doesn’t like being kept out of the loop anymore than you do, but I just couldn’t tell that whole thing to a crowd,” she said, moving around him when he stayed standing right in front of the bathroom door. “I appreciate you listening to me.”
There was some sort of sound from behind her, like a grunt of acceptance, but Lincoln said nothing. She moved to her suitcase, pulling things from it so she could get her laptop out. She looked over her shoulder at him. “When you lose your partner, it messes with your head,” she explained. “You don’t know how many times I went over the scenario: what I could have done differently to save James. The fact that he’s alive-it makes it very personal for me, Lincoln. I have to get his ass outta there, because he’s going to explain himself to me. I might kill him afterwards, but I’m going to hear what he has to say first. It would be best if you all were far away from what’s about to happen.”
“Wait a fuckin’ minute,” he growled, stepping towards her. “I’m not going anywhere. You can send the fugitive, his sidekick, and the girl in danger off, and I’ll be glad to send LJ with them for safe keeping, but if you think I’m going to leave you here alone-“
“I won’t be alone,” she interrupted. “My team is coming, remember?”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not leaving.”
Jane tucked the laptop up under her arm. “Why not? You don’t want to be invested here, and I understand that. I sympathize with you. So why not just walk away and let us handle it? If I survive, I’ll come find you.”
She had seen Aldo succumb to anger several times, and the similarities between that and what happened right in front of her eyes as Lincoln’s face got red and his eyes sparked dangerously almost made her grin. She was being honest, and if Lincoln wanted to leave she wouldn’t stop him. But she knew despite his fear, he was not without courage, and he certainly didn’t like the implication that he didn’t care at all just because he wouldn’t fuck her.
What was even funnier was he didn’t argue with her, he just glared at her and then lifted one arm from his chest to point a finger at her. “I’m not leaving, and you can’t make me.”
Jane turned away and muttered, “All right.” The reality was she could make him leave. There were any number of ways to convince him. But she didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him there with her, and she wanted him there when it was over. She sat back down on the bed and looked up at him as she lifted the screen of her laptop. “If you stay, you have to make me a promise.”
“I’ll do whatever you say,” he said without prompting.
Jane laughed, surprised by his capitulation. “Well, that’s great, though that wasn’t the promise I was looking for.”
“What then?” he asked suspiciously.
“When this is over, you have to have sex with me. No pulling back, no holding out on me.” She said it while looking him directly at him.
The color that had risen with his anger seemed to drain out of his face with her demand. He appeared to have been struck dumb, too, because he just looked at her and said nothing.
“Promise?” she prompted in the wake of his silence.
“I promise,” he finally said, his tone ragged.
“Good,” Jane said briskly, dropping her eyes to the computer screen. “Now, I’m going to look up a map of the area that you last saw James in, and see what I can find.” Her fingers moved over the keyboard as she signed into her email account. “You call Michael and explain what’s going on to him. Let’s meet up with them again-how about the hospital again? We can see LJ, find out exactly when we can move him and then make the arrangements to get them out of the country.”
Lincoln walked across the room to pick up Jane’s cell phone, but then he stayed standing next to the bed where she was perched. She looked up when he didn’t respond to her outline for the rest of their day. His eyes were somber as he watched her. “What?” she asked gently.
“If we survive this, there are a lot of other promises to make, you know.” The idea seemed to fill him with immense gravity, but Jane felt buoyed up by the suggestion.
“I do know,” she said. Raising her hand she touched his arm softly. “First things first,” she advised, giving him a long, measuring look.
He nodded curtly and then flipped her phone open to call his brother.
Chapter Five