Five Stages of the Plan
A general story illustrating Michael and Lincoln's relationship, but much more Lincoln-centric. Sort of all over the place, but I had a lot of prompts to use from this prompt request http://domfangirl.livejournal.com/36441.html, but I think they worked, in canon. Spoilers for both seasons, and speculation for beyond what we've yet seen. this is M/S if you squint, so I still owe stealmy_kiss but we'll work something out! ;-)
I: The Plan is Initiated
On the few occasions that Dr. Sara Tancredi had contact with inmate 79238, Burrows, Lincoln, she’d noticed he was completely imposing without a word. Over six feet tall, with wide shoulders, he didn’t speak unless spoken to. But though he was silent, he was not sullen. He had nothing to say, she supposed, but when he did say something it was cordial. He replied to her questions regarding his health with nothing adverse in his voice. He rolled up his shirtsleeve so she could take his blood pressure with no attitude. But it was very like he’d removed himself from the world he wouldn’t long be in. Sara understood to a certain extent.
She noticed a difference in him about the same time that she noticed a difference in herself. When inmate 94941, Scofield, Michael, entered Fox River, Sara found herself looking forward to his visits, which because of his diabetic condition were daily.
Two weeks after Scofield arrived, Burrows came in for a routine exam. He wasn’t overly talkative, on a normal scale of things, but he spoke more words to Sara on that one visit than all his other visits combined. The next day, Sara learned they were brothers, and she couldn’t help but think that with his entrance through the front gate, Michael had unwittingly spurred a change in climate throughout the prison.
II: What Caused the Plan
"Linc, what does alcoholic mean?" Michael asked.
Sitting on the el, heading for the hospital to visit their mother, Lincoln had been lost in the scenery flashing by, not paying attention to his little brother. "What?" he asked, because he’d only heard the tone of Michael’s voice, not his actual question.
"What does alcoholic mean?" his little brother patiently repeated.
Lincoln squinted, looking at the 7-year-old beside him. He dragged his eyes back to the window and contemplated his own words. He wasn’t going to tell Michael the truth, just the result. "It means he left a long time ago, and he’s not coming back, Mike."
"That’s what I thought it meant," Michael said, his smaller hand finding its way into Lincoln’s.
III: Why the Plan was Needed
"Come on, Linc," Michael said, jostling his brother’s arm. It was his 21st birthday and he was feeling awfully good because Lincoln had taken him to a bar not far from his dormitory.
"Why do we have to play these stupid games?" Lincoln asked.
"It’s my birthday. Come on, there’s got be 5 of your 26 birthdays that you got a good present on," Michael slurred. When Lincoln still didn’t respond, Michael blew out a breath that, oddly, contained some of his saliva. He saw Lincoln wipe his chin and then he pushed Michael away from him just a little bit. "Okay, I’ll tell you mine, then," Michael said, holding up one finger to show he was listing them off. "One, my dinosaur books that mom got me when I was 4. Two, the White Sox hat you gave me when I was 7. (I still have it, you know?) Three, the year you got out of the Foster Care System, but that family I was with, remember, the Johnson’s? They let you come see me… that was when I was 13? I think. Um...four..." and here Michael faltered, because he knew his fifth best birthday was this one right here, right now, with Linc, but the years between 13 and 21 had been iffy at best.
"Okay, okay," Lincoln said, and Michael didn’t know if his brother just didn’t realize he hadn’t come up with five things or if he was saving him the trouble of trying to come up with more examples. "One, the Atari mom got me on my 10th birthday. Of course, I had to share with you, but still, it was pretty cool. Two, the same year you lived with the Johnson’s and they let me come for your birthday, they also let me come for my birthday, remember? I must of have been 19 then, right before the State finally let you come live with me. Third was the next year, you made me those origami cranes, one for every year of my life and each with reasons why you were glad we lived together again. Four, the blowjob Veronica gave me on my 22nd birthday. And...last year, LJ made me a picture at daycare. It’s the one that I still got on my fridge, you know the one I mean?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know that drawing," Michael said. His head was starting to spin and he sort of felt queasy. "Those are good presents, huh, Linc?"
"You all right?" Lincoln asked, smiling compassionately.
Michael tried to get his gaze on Lincoln’s, but he felt like his eyeballs were shaking and wouldn’t hold still so he could look in his brother’s face. "Ah-no, not really," he whispered. He felt himself hefted up by Lincoln’s strong arms and the next thing he knew he was outside on the street puking into the gutter, but Lincoln had an arm around him and one hand holding his forehead as he retched.
"Feel better?" came his brother’s voice a moment later when the heaving stopped.
"Yeah," Michael croaked around the horrible residue on his tongue. Linc’s arms held him securely and he just let himself hang limply. It felt so good when Linc was there to hold him up. "Linc, this is one of my best birthdays too, just being here with you."
"Oh, God, Michael, shut up. No, it’s not. I should’ve realized you’d be no good at this and not let you drink so much."
"No, it really is, Linc. I’m serious."
"I’ll also remember for the future that when you’re drunk, you ask me stupid questions."
"I love that picture LJ drew too, of the three of us. That’s the way I always see us, now, the three of us. It will always be me and you and LJ, Linc."
Michael felt his brother’s chest expand against his arm. "Yeah, it will, Mike. Always. The three of us."
IV: How the Plan Helped Michael
"What time does LJ get here?" Michael asked.
Lincoln checked his watch. "Soon, he called when he hit the state line, but you guys have to leave now if you’re going to get to O’Hare in time." He put his hand out towards Michael when he started in the direction of the house. “Just stay here, I’ll go see what the hold up is. I don’t want you fighting on the way to your honeymoon."
Lincoln ran back into the house he, Michael and Sara had been living in since the conspiracy had been exposed. That had been six months ago, and they had just gotten married two days before, in a ceremony completely without frills, with only Lincoln as the witness. The funny thing was ever since their nuptials there had been frisson. Every word out of either of their mouths had been to snap at each other, and Lincoln was tired of it. But now, on their way to Hawaii for a honeymoon, their departure coincided with LJ’s arrival. It would be the first time Lincoln had seen his son since he sent him off with Jane Phillips. Jane would be joining them in a few days, but both father and son had decided a meeting alone would be good for them both, but LJ had also insisted on flying into Detroit and driving down by himself. Lincoln wasn’t sure what that was about, but when the call had come a few hours earlier that LJ was on his way, he’d just been grateful and disregarded the rest of it.
Going into Michael and Sara’s bedroom, Lincoln found the doctor sitting on top of a suitcase that had entirely too much stuff inside it. She was obviously having a hard time getting it zipped and when he walked in the room, her head whipped around. Her eyes were round and anxious and Lincoln offered a smile. "Need some help?"
She nodded her head furiously. "If Michael finds me doing this, I’m dead. He wanted me to be packed yesterday, and I lied and told him I was. But I wasn’t and now I can’t fit everything inside this thing."
Lincoln grabbed her around the waist and plucked her down from the top of the suitcase, which was on top of the bed. "Why did you lie?" he asked, leaning over and pressing the top down with all his weight while his fingers tugged on the zipper.
"Because he’s always badgering me. Did you do this, Sara? Are you ready, Sara? Don’t forget, blah, blah, blah, Sara!" she huffed out throwing her hands up so they slapped back down on her thighs.
"Maybe that’s because you’ve got less than two hours to get to O’Hare, get through check in and get to your gate. And did I mention it’s fucking O’Hare? Michael can be anal retentive, I know, but I think in this case, listening to him would have been a good-oh, shit!"
"What? What?" Sara asked, running around the bed to see that the zipper tab was now in Lincoln’s hand, but no longer connected to the suitcase. "Oh, no. Oh, no! Why me! Why me?" she cried frantically.
Lincoln looked up at her and started laughing because she actually had her fingers against her cheeks, pulling her skin down as she lamented the situation. "Just a sec," he said, sprinting from the room. Stress was an interesting thing to see Sara and Michael endure. When they had run for their lives and had the weight of the world on them, they’d both been calm as a summer morning. Give them the stress of minor deadlines for a marriage certificate, plane reservations and hotel accommodations, and one started to wonder how they managed their respective engineering and medical offices.
Running into the garage, Lincoln found just what he was looking for, and zigzagging, ran back into the house without Michael noticing him from where he stood in the driveway. When he got back to the bedroom, Sara was actually crying, tears of frustration tracking her cheeks slowly. "Okay, look, Crazy, I’m saving your ass, but you remember this."
She swiped at her face with fast fingers and dead panned, "Yeah, okay, next time you need to break out of prison, I’m your girl."
Lincoln froze, the remedy held in his hands so she could see. "Do you want my help, or do you want to be a smart ass?" he asked.
"Help! Please, help! I’m sorry, Linc. Just help me, before Michael comes in here."
Quickly wrapping the bungee cords around the suitcase so it resembled the ribbons wrapped around Christmas packages, he patted the travel bag and said, "There you go. Nothing will fall outta this baby."
He looked up, giving her a big smile, and she flew at him, hugging him tightly. "You’re the best. Thanks."
Since Lincoln had her close for the moment, and still, which hadn’t occurred during the last week of wedding induced mania, he held her when she moved to pull away. “Sara, just take a deep breath. You’ve got Michael, forever. And even if you drive him crazy because you aren’t as organized as he is, he needs a little chaos in the order, you know? You keep him from driving me crazy.”
Sara laughed, and tightened her arms around him. “Thanks, Linc,” she whispered. Letting him go, she grabbed the suitcase and dragged it towards the door. "Good luck with LJ," she said softly.
"Thanks," he said, remembering suddenly that he was more terrified of seeing his son again than he was the day the judge sentenced him to death row.
"It will work out, Linc, you’ll see. Just like everything else."
"From your lips to God’s ears, Sare."
"We’ll call you tonight, okay?" she offered, smiling enthusiastically.
"Okay."
V: How the Plan Helped Lincoln
When LJ first arrived, there was a long hug on the front lawn, some whispered “I love yous” and “I missed yous” and more hugging. Then Lincoln helped LJ with his luggage, bringing it all in the house. There were several bags, far more than should have accompanied someone who was just visiting.
Lincoln bit his lip, wanting to ask, but fearing the answer. “This place is huge!” LJ said, looking around the house.
“I know,” Lincoln said with a smile. “That’s what you can buy when the Federal government gives you a pile of cash for not suing their asses.”
“It’s great, Dad. Do you like it? I mean, you want to stay in Chicago?” LJ asked as they made their way up the hall.
“This one’s yours,” Lincoln said, gesturing to the guest bedroom. “Yeah, I’m good to stay here. Why?”
LJ put the three bags he was carrying down and turned to face his father. “I met a girl, who lives up in Detroit. But she’s planning on coming here, to go to Loyola, actually, in the fall.”
“How did you meet a girl in Detroit? You were there for a half hour.”
“Actually, I got there yesterday. It was the first time we met in person, but we’ve been chatting online for the last six months.”
“You little player, you,” Lincoln said, feeling a bit panicked at the idea that his son had flown to Detroit to meet a girl. He’d had no time with him, none, to prepare him for women and how they could knock you out.
“She’s a cool girl, Dad. She’s gonna come down in a couple weeks, you know, if I decide to stay here.”
“If you decide to stay here?” Lincoln questioned.
“If you let me stay here,” LJ amended.
Lincoln shook his head slightly. “LJ, you’re my boy. Wherever I am, as long as it’s not prison, there is always a place for you. I thought you didn’t want to be here, that’s why you stayed out in Washington with Jane all this time.”
“I just wanted to finish school, that’s all, Dad. It wasn’t about you. I mean, it started out about you, but it didn’t finish up that way. And you’ve gotta be nice to Jane when she gets here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be nice to her?” Lincoln asked hotly.
“Because you think she stole me from you?” LJ offered, a bit of wistfulness in his tone.
“I do not think that,” Lincoln said, his tone still elevated.
“You said that to her on the phone once, she told me.”
“Well, I was probably just riled up. You know how I am, saying things I don’t mean.” Looking away from LJ, Lincoln put his hands on his hips and stared at the three suitcases and two duffle bags. “You’re going to stay?” he asked tentatively, raising his eyes slowly.
“Yeah, Dad. I want to be with you and Uncle Mike.”
“And Sara, don’t forget. Your uncle’s a married man now.”
“Well, right. But for me, it’s about you and Uncle Mike. You’re my family.” LJ took a step towards Lincoln, then hesitated. “You are why I’m here.”
“Well, and some girl in Detroit,” Lincoln said, bridging the distance between them too.
When LJ smiled sheepishly, they both put their arms out for another hug. “Well, yeah, that too,” LJ said, blushing.
Lincoln held his baby boy tightly. There were so many things he’d never had a chance to say. As with everything in his life, he had learned there was no time like the present. “Come on, there’s KFC in the kitchen.”
Once they were sitting at the table and LJ was shoveling mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth, Lincoln said seriously, “Okay, I’ve gotta say a few things. And I’m like 5 years too late, but you gotta let me do this. I’m your dad.”
LJ’s eyes worriedly searched his father’s face and then he shrugged, because his mouth was too full to respond verbally. “Use a condom, every time,” Lincoln said, holding up his thumb to keep track of the things he needed to say. “Unless you want a baby, use a condom, EVERY TIME! Two, girls are complex, down there, unlike us. Ask her to show you what she likes. That way everybody has a good time. Three, don’t confuse sex with love. Four, I’m not the morality police, but don’t just do it with anybody, okay? Five, any decent girl will share the responsibility of birth control with you.”
By the time he got to five LJ had swallowed, and held up a hand, in an attempt, Lincoln supposed, to get him to stop. “Dad, Dad, please…”
“It’s got to be said. I’m not going to let embarrassment keep me from-“
“Dad!”
“What?”
“I’m not embarrassed. I just…I’m eating, okay? And I just got here. I only met Melinda, in person, for the first time yesterday. We didn’t have sex yet. And can you, you know, wait until I ask for advice, instead of dispensing it like…bullets?” LJ reached across the table and put his hand on Lincoln’s arm. “I know you love me, Dad. You don’t have to catch up everything tonight. And I’d rather you didn’t, anyway. I just want to be here, with you. You know, just be with you. I promise I’ll talk to you about that when…I need to.” He paused again. “Cool?” he asked.
Lincoln felt a bit stupid, but also inexplicably touched by the simple words, and the fingers on his forearm. “Cool,” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat, swallowing the emotion that had overtaken him suddenly. He picked up his own piece of chicken and took a bite as LJ returned his hand to his side of the table. “Sorry, LJ,” he said a moment later.
“Aw, it’s all right. I want you to be that kinda dad, really, I do. Just,” he pushed his hands against the air, like he was shoving something down gently. “Slower.” Picking up a drumstick, he gave Lincoln a smile. “Just wait until Jane gets here. You’re in for a wild ride, Dad. She’s awesome. You’re gonna fucking love her.”
“Hey,” Lincoln said automatically. He hadn’t ever heard LJ say the f-word before, and it struck him funny, almost wrong. It was then that he got it. They were equal, he and his son. They both had been through hell, different types of hell, but hell all the same. He had to get to know him, and LJ had to get to know his father. And there was no shame in that.
There was time to do it, thanks to Aldo Burrows.
It was the only time Lincoln could ever remember feeling gratitude when he thought of his father.
I: The Plan is Initiated
On the few occasions that Dr. Sara Tancredi had contact with inmate 79238, Burrows, Lincoln, she’d noticed he was completely imposing without a word. Over six feet tall, with wide shoulders, he didn’t speak unless spoken to. But though he was silent, he was not sullen. He had nothing to say, she supposed, but when he did say something it was cordial. He replied to her questions regarding his health with nothing adverse in his voice. He rolled up his shirtsleeve so she could take his blood pressure with no attitude. But it was very like he’d removed himself from the world he wouldn’t long be in. Sara understood to a certain extent.
She noticed a difference in him about the same time that she noticed a difference in herself. When inmate 94941, Scofield, Michael, entered Fox River, Sara found herself looking forward to his visits, which because of his diabetic condition were daily.
Two weeks after Scofield arrived, Burrows came in for a routine exam. He wasn’t overly talkative, on a normal scale of things, but he spoke more words to Sara on that one visit than all his other visits combined. The next day, Sara learned they were brothers, and she couldn’t help but think that with his entrance through the front gate, Michael had unwittingly spurred a change in climate throughout the prison.
II: What Caused the Plan
"Linc, what does alcoholic mean?" Michael asked.
Sitting on the el, heading for the hospital to visit their mother, Lincoln had been lost in the scenery flashing by, not paying attention to his little brother. "What?" he asked, because he’d only heard the tone of Michael’s voice, not his actual question.
"What does alcoholic mean?" his little brother patiently repeated.
Lincoln squinted, looking at the 7-year-old beside him. He dragged his eyes back to the window and contemplated his own words. He wasn’t going to tell Michael the truth, just the result. "It means he left a long time ago, and he’s not coming back, Mike."
"That’s what I thought it meant," Michael said, his smaller hand finding its way into Lincoln’s.
III: Why the Plan was Needed
"Come on, Linc," Michael said, jostling his brother’s arm. It was his 21st birthday and he was feeling awfully good because Lincoln had taken him to a bar not far from his dormitory.
"Why do we have to play these stupid games?" Lincoln asked.
"It’s my birthday. Come on, there’s got be 5 of your 26 birthdays that you got a good present on," Michael slurred. When Lincoln still didn’t respond, Michael blew out a breath that, oddly, contained some of his saliva. He saw Lincoln wipe his chin and then he pushed Michael away from him just a little bit. "Okay, I’ll tell you mine, then," Michael said, holding up one finger to show he was listing them off. "One, my dinosaur books that mom got me when I was 4. Two, the White Sox hat you gave me when I was 7. (I still have it, you know?) Three, the year you got out of the Foster Care System, but that family I was with, remember, the Johnson’s? They let you come see me… that was when I was 13? I think. Um...four..." and here Michael faltered, because he knew his fifth best birthday was this one right here, right now, with Linc, but the years between 13 and 21 had been iffy at best.
"Okay, okay," Lincoln said, and Michael didn’t know if his brother just didn’t realize he hadn’t come up with five things or if he was saving him the trouble of trying to come up with more examples. "One, the Atari mom got me on my 10th birthday. Of course, I had to share with you, but still, it was pretty cool. Two, the same year you lived with the Johnson’s and they let me come for your birthday, they also let me come for my birthday, remember? I must of have been 19 then, right before the State finally let you come live with me. Third was the next year, you made me those origami cranes, one for every year of my life and each with reasons why you were glad we lived together again. Four, the blowjob Veronica gave me on my 22nd birthday. And...last year, LJ made me a picture at daycare. It’s the one that I still got on my fridge, you know the one I mean?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know that drawing," Michael said. His head was starting to spin and he sort of felt queasy. "Those are good presents, huh, Linc?"
"You all right?" Lincoln asked, smiling compassionately.
Michael tried to get his gaze on Lincoln’s, but he felt like his eyeballs were shaking and wouldn’t hold still so he could look in his brother’s face. "Ah-no, not really," he whispered. He felt himself hefted up by Lincoln’s strong arms and the next thing he knew he was outside on the street puking into the gutter, but Lincoln had an arm around him and one hand holding his forehead as he retched.
"Feel better?" came his brother’s voice a moment later when the heaving stopped.
"Yeah," Michael croaked around the horrible residue on his tongue. Linc’s arms held him securely and he just let himself hang limply. It felt so good when Linc was there to hold him up. "Linc, this is one of my best birthdays too, just being here with you."
"Oh, God, Michael, shut up. No, it’s not. I should’ve realized you’d be no good at this and not let you drink so much."
"No, it really is, Linc. I’m serious."
"I’ll also remember for the future that when you’re drunk, you ask me stupid questions."
"I love that picture LJ drew too, of the three of us. That’s the way I always see us, now, the three of us. It will always be me and you and LJ, Linc."
Michael felt his brother’s chest expand against his arm. "Yeah, it will, Mike. Always. The three of us."
IV: How the Plan Helped Michael
"What time does LJ get here?" Michael asked.
Lincoln checked his watch. "Soon, he called when he hit the state line, but you guys have to leave now if you’re going to get to O’Hare in time." He put his hand out towards Michael when he started in the direction of the house. “Just stay here, I’ll go see what the hold up is. I don’t want you fighting on the way to your honeymoon."
Lincoln ran back into the house he, Michael and Sara had been living in since the conspiracy had been exposed. That had been six months ago, and they had just gotten married two days before, in a ceremony completely without frills, with only Lincoln as the witness. The funny thing was ever since their nuptials there had been frisson. Every word out of either of their mouths had been to snap at each other, and Lincoln was tired of it. But now, on their way to Hawaii for a honeymoon, their departure coincided with LJ’s arrival. It would be the first time Lincoln had seen his son since he sent him off with Jane Phillips. Jane would be joining them in a few days, but both father and son had decided a meeting alone would be good for them both, but LJ had also insisted on flying into Detroit and driving down by himself. Lincoln wasn’t sure what that was about, but when the call had come a few hours earlier that LJ was on his way, he’d just been grateful and disregarded the rest of it.
Going into Michael and Sara’s bedroom, Lincoln found the doctor sitting on top of a suitcase that had entirely too much stuff inside it. She was obviously having a hard time getting it zipped and when he walked in the room, her head whipped around. Her eyes were round and anxious and Lincoln offered a smile. "Need some help?"
She nodded her head furiously. "If Michael finds me doing this, I’m dead. He wanted me to be packed yesterday, and I lied and told him I was. But I wasn’t and now I can’t fit everything inside this thing."
Lincoln grabbed her around the waist and plucked her down from the top of the suitcase, which was on top of the bed. "Why did you lie?" he asked, leaning over and pressing the top down with all his weight while his fingers tugged on the zipper.
"Because he’s always badgering me. Did you do this, Sara? Are you ready, Sara? Don’t forget, blah, blah, blah, Sara!" she huffed out throwing her hands up so they slapped back down on her thighs.
"Maybe that’s because you’ve got less than two hours to get to O’Hare, get through check in and get to your gate. And did I mention it’s fucking O’Hare? Michael can be anal retentive, I know, but I think in this case, listening to him would have been a good-oh, shit!"
"What? What?" Sara asked, running around the bed to see that the zipper tab was now in Lincoln’s hand, but no longer connected to the suitcase. "Oh, no. Oh, no! Why me! Why me?" she cried frantically.
Lincoln looked up at her and started laughing because she actually had her fingers against her cheeks, pulling her skin down as she lamented the situation. "Just a sec," he said, sprinting from the room. Stress was an interesting thing to see Sara and Michael endure. When they had run for their lives and had the weight of the world on them, they’d both been calm as a summer morning. Give them the stress of minor deadlines for a marriage certificate, plane reservations and hotel accommodations, and one started to wonder how they managed their respective engineering and medical offices.
Running into the garage, Lincoln found just what he was looking for, and zigzagging, ran back into the house without Michael noticing him from where he stood in the driveway. When he got back to the bedroom, Sara was actually crying, tears of frustration tracking her cheeks slowly. "Okay, look, Crazy, I’m saving your ass, but you remember this."
She swiped at her face with fast fingers and dead panned, "Yeah, okay, next time you need to break out of prison, I’m your girl."
Lincoln froze, the remedy held in his hands so she could see. "Do you want my help, or do you want to be a smart ass?" he asked.
"Help! Please, help! I’m sorry, Linc. Just help me, before Michael comes in here."
Quickly wrapping the bungee cords around the suitcase so it resembled the ribbons wrapped around Christmas packages, he patted the travel bag and said, "There you go. Nothing will fall outta this baby."
He looked up, giving her a big smile, and she flew at him, hugging him tightly. "You’re the best. Thanks."
Since Lincoln had her close for the moment, and still, which hadn’t occurred during the last week of wedding induced mania, he held her when she moved to pull away. “Sara, just take a deep breath. You’ve got Michael, forever. And even if you drive him crazy because you aren’t as organized as he is, he needs a little chaos in the order, you know? You keep him from driving me crazy.”
Sara laughed, and tightened her arms around him. “Thanks, Linc,” she whispered. Letting him go, she grabbed the suitcase and dragged it towards the door. "Good luck with LJ," she said softly.
"Thanks," he said, remembering suddenly that he was more terrified of seeing his son again than he was the day the judge sentenced him to death row.
"It will work out, Linc, you’ll see. Just like everything else."
"From your lips to God’s ears, Sare."
"We’ll call you tonight, okay?" she offered, smiling enthusiastically.
"Okay."
V: How the Plan Helped Lincoln
When LJ first arrived, there was a long hug on the front lawn, some whispered “I love yous” and “I missed yous” and more hugging. Then Lincoln helped LJ with his luggage, bringing it all in the house. There were several bags, far more than should have accompanied someone who was just visiting.
Lincoln bit his lip, wanting to ask, but fearing the answer. “This place is huge!” LJ said, looking around the house.
“I know,” Lincoln said with a smile. “That’s what you can buy when the Federal government gives you a pile of cash for not suing their asses.”
“It’s great, Dad. Do you like it? I mean, you want to stay in Chicago?” LJ asked as they made their way up the hall.
“This one’s yours,” Lincoln said, gesturing to the guest bedroom. “Yeah, I’m good to stay here. Why?”
LJ put the three bags he was carrying down and turned to face his father. “I met a girl, who lives up in Detroit. But she’s planning on coming here, to go to Loyola, actually, in the fall.”
“How did you meet a girl in Detroit? You were there for a half hour.”
“Actually, I got there yesterday. It was the first time we met in person, but we’ve been chatting online for the last six months.”
“You little player, you,” Lincoln said, feeling a bit panicked at the idea that his son had flown to Detroit to meet a girl. He’d had no time with him, none, to prepare him for women and how they could knock you out.
“She’s a cool girl, Dad. She’s gonna come down in a couple weeks, you know, if I decide to stay here.”
“If you decide to stay here?” Lincoln questioned.
“If you let me stay here,” LJ amended.
Lincoln shook his head slightly. “LJ, you’re my boy. Wherever I am, as long as it’s not prison, there is always a place for you. I thought you didn’t want to be here, that’s why you stayed out in Washington with Jane all this time.”
“I just wanted to finish school, that’s all, Dad. It wasn’t about you. I mean, it started out about you, but it didn’t finish up that way. And you’ve gotta be nice to Jane when she gets here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be nice to her?” Lincoln asked hotly.
“Because you think she stole me from you?” LJ offered, a bit of wistfulness in his tone.
“I do not think that,” Lincoln said, his tone still elevated.
“You said that to her on the phone once, she told me.”
“Well, I was probably just riled up. You know how I am, saying things I don’t mean.” Looking away from LJ, Lincoln put his hands on his hips and stared at the three suitcases and two duffle bags. “You’re going to stay?” he asked tentatively, raising his eyes slowly.
“Yeah, Dad. I want to be with you and Uncle Mike.”
“And Sara, don’t forget. Your uncle’s a married man now.”
“Well, right. But for me, it’s about you and Uncle Mike. You’re my family.” LJ took a step towards Lincoln, then hesitated. “You are why I’m here.”
“Well, and some girl in Detroit,” Lincoln said, bridging the distance between them too.
When LJ smiled sheepishly, they both put their arms out for another hug. “Well, yeah, that too,” LJ said, blushing.
Lincoln held his baby boy tightly. There were so many things he’d never had a chance to say. As with everything in his life, he had learned there was no time like the present. “Come on, there’s KFC in the kitchen.”
Once they were sitting at the table and LJ was shoveling mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth, Lincoln said seriously, “Okay, I’ve gotta say a few things. And I’m like 5 years too late, but you gotta let me do this. I’m your dad.”
LJ’s eyes worriedly searched his father’s face and then he shrugged, because his mouth was too full to respond verbally. “Use a condom, every time,” Lincoln said, holding up his thumb to keep track of the things he needed to say. “Unless you want a baby, use a condom, EVERY TIME! Two, girls are complex, down there, unlike us. Ask her to show you what she likes. That way everybody has a good time. Three, don’t confuse sex with love. Four, I’m not the morality police, but don’t just do it with anybody, okay? Five, any decent girl will share the responsibility of birth control with you.”
By the time he got to five LJ had swallowed, and held up a hand, in an attempt, Lincoln supposed, to get him to stop. “Dad, Dad, please…”
“It’s got to be said. I’m not going to let embarrassment keep me from-“
“Dad!”
“What?”
“I’m not embarrassed. I just…I’m eating, okay? And I just got here. I only met Melinda, in person, for the first time yesterday. We didn’t have sex yet. And can you, you know, wait until I ask for advice, instead of dispensing it like…bullets?” LJ reached across the table and put his hand on Lincoln’s arm. “I know you love me, Dad. You don’t have to catch up everything tonight. And I’d rather you didn’t, anyway. I just want to be here, with you. You know, just be with you. I promise I’ll talk to you about that when…I need to.” He paused again. “Cool?” he asked.
Lincoln felt a bit stupid, but also inexplicably touched by the simple words, and the fingers on his forearm. “Cool,” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat, swallowing the emotion that had overtaken him suddenly. He picked up his own piece of chicken and took a bite as LJ returned his hand to his side of the table. “Sorry, LJ,” he said a moment later.
“Aw, it’s all right. I want you to be that kinda dad, really, I do. Just,” he pushed his hands against the air, like he was shoving something down gently. “Slower.” Picking up a drumstick, he gave Lincoln a smile. “Just wait until Jane gets here. You’re in for a wild ride, Dad. She’s awesome. You’re gonna fucking love her.”
“Hey,” Lincoln said automatically. He hadn’t ever heard LJ say the f-word before, and it struck him funny, almost wrong. It was then that he got it. They were equal, he and his son. They both had been through hell, different types of hell, but hell all the same. He had to get to know him, and LJ had to get to know his father. And there was no shame in that.
There was time to do it, thanks to Aldo Burrows.
It was the only time Lincoln could ever remember feeling gratitude when he thought of his father.