Without the One You Love (Christmas Fic)
Title: Without the One You Love
Author: happywriter06
Fandom: Prison Break
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Lincoln Burrows/Jane Phillips, Michael Scofield/Sara Tancredi, LJ Burrows
Category: Het (AU, i.e., no S3)
Summary:
Christmas just ain’t Christmas,
Without the one you love.
New Years just ain’t New Years,
Without the one you love.
Notes: I wrote this forpbhiatus_fic's Bottoms Up and Holiday challenges. Also, written for the Winter Drabble Challenge at foxriver_fic. I actually had the idea for this fic for a long time but I just couldn't get it down on paper. It wasn't until I got the idea for the foxriver_fic challenge and I read xshorty24x's fic Slurred that I got it. The title and summary are lyrics from the holiday song by the O'Jays. Thanks to torigates for the beta.
He can feel a shadow fall across his face. When he opens his eyes, he finds it’s her, leaning over him, her auburn locks creating a curtain around her face. “What do you want for Christmas, Michael? There’s only one week left.”
He pulls her into the hammock, her laughter filling the air around them. “All I want for Christmas is you.”
“You got me so you have to pick something else,” she tells him as she makes herself comfortable, her head resting in the space between his neck and shoulder.
“How about Jane coming back?”
She can’t help but laugh. “Linc hasn’t been that bad.”
“Are you kidding? I swear the next time we go out on the Christina Rose only one of us is coming back.”
“Michael,” she playfully scolds.
“LJ gave me permission.”
“Well, in that case...”
They settle into silence both thinking the same thing: It would be a Christmas miracle if Jane did come back. She’d left two months before, claiming she was still needed in the fight. LJ was angry but by the time she’d left, he’d forgiven her. Linc hadn’t. He wasn’t even around that day she left so the last image she had of him was him walking out.
“I’m too old to believe in Santa Claus but I’m going to ask anyway.”
“It can’t hurt.”
***
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Sara asks LJ as she comes upon him standing in the doorway between the living room and dining room.
“I have no idea,” he tells her, never taking his eyes off his father and uncle seated on the floor by the Christmas tree. They each have an arm around the other as much to show affection as to give support.
“Whose idea was it to get the tequila, again?”
“I’m sure Uncle Mike didn’t think it’d turn out like this.” LJ turns and smiles at Sara. “He should’ve known though.”
“Well, let’s leave them to whatever it is they’re doing.”
“You know what?” Linc asks.
“What?” Michael asks.
Linc opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it, a look of confusion clouding his face. “You know what? I dunno.” His words are immediately followed by his laughter and then Michael’s. They laugh so hard, Michael has to wipe his eyes. They laugh so loud, Sara and LJ can hear them outside, which causes them to roll their eyes.
“Seriously though. Seriously. Seriously,” Linc starts up again, doing his best to put on a serious face. He even sits up straighter, pulling Michael up with him. “Come on bro. I want to talk to you. Seriously.”
“Okay, okay.” Michael takes a deep breath and sits up only to giggle a few more times before Linc throws him his best I’m-your-big-brother-and-I’m-talking-so-shut-up look. “Okay, okay. Okay. I’m serious. Okay, go.”
“You’re a lucky man.” He emphasizes his point by poking Michael in the chest. “You got Sara. Don’t let her go.” He pokes Michael again. “Don’t let her go man. Don’t. Let. Her. Go.”
“You miss Jane” is Michael’s immediate response.
“No, I don’t,” Linc scoffs, pulling his arm from around Michael, elbowing him in the head in the process.
“Oooowwww,” Michael lets out in an exaggerated tone. “It’s okay, Linc, if you miss your girlfriend.”
“Shut up. She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Lincoln and Jane sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g...” Linc pushes Michael, which only serves to make Michael sing louder. “First comes love, then…” By the time Michael gets to marriage, Linc’s hand is over his mouth. It doesn’t stop the singing though.
“Linc, if you two can’t play nice” comes Sara’s voice from the other side of the room, “We’re going to have to separate you two.” He looks up, the smile he had on his face slips off when he sees who’s with Sara. He stands, a bit unsteady on his feet, as the last of the childhood song - “…trying to do the hula dance” - comes from below.
No one says anything, not LJ and Sara who stand beside Jane with huge smiles plastered on their faces. Not Linc or Jane who are engaged in some kind of stare-off. Jane surely has the advantage but Linc’s not giving up that easily. Not Michael, well at least not at first. “What’s going on?” he asks, propping himself, not without some effort, up on his elbows. “Oh, hi Jane,” he waves. “We were just talking about you. I was just saying….Ooowww, Linc.”
“LJ, how about we help your uncle to the bed so your dad and Jane can talk?” Sara asks as she slips around Jane and crosses the room.
“Sure.” LJ throws his father a look that Linc deliberately ignores. Drunk or not he knows exactly what LJ’s thinking. Every time Jane called, LJ would ask “Do you want to speak to her?” and Linc always looked at him as if LJ was crazy. A couple of times, he heard LJ say, “He’s being really stubborn. Who knew?”
As they pass Jane, Michael leans in to whisper. “If he says he didn’t miss you, he’s lying.” Then he smiles, scrunching up his whole face up in the process.
“Got it, Michael,” Jane says, despite the sweet smell of tequila having hit her square in the face.
“Am I right, guys?” He looks from Sara to LJ, who nod their heads in agreement.
“Absolutely, Uncle Mike.”
“Whatever he told you, he’s lying,” Linc starts once they are alone. He’s not suddenly less drunk then he was a minute ago but he’s not going to let her return get to him.
“He said you didn’t miss me.”
“I thought so. No. Wait.”
Jane can’t help but smile. She begins to close the gap between them, which causes Linc to step back, rather shakily. He’s right in front of the tree so she stops.
“I can’t believe you are still angry with me.” Her hands on are on her hips now and she’s not smiling.
“I can’t believe you left.”
“I told you why.”
”So.”
“Stop acting like a child.”
“I’m not a child.” As he says it, his hands go to his hips and he pouts.
This time she can’t stop the laughing from tumbling out. She was ready for a fight with him sober although he wasn’t any more rational then, when she told him she was leaving. Her laughter only serves to piss him off more, making him pout even more, which makes her laugh some more.
His final response is to stalk out the room ignoring her as she calls his name. She figures following him won’t do any good.
***
It’s early afternoon by the time Michael appears in the kitchen the day after Christmas. He squints due to the sunlight filtering in and in the face of Sara and Jane’s smiling faces.
“Good morning,” they shout, at least that’s how it sounds to Michael.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but shut up,” he says, his voice low because the sound of his own voice is too loud. The women exchange knowing smiles as they watch Michael grab a cup of coffee then come to sit beside Sara. He immediately puts his head down on his forearm. Sara wraps an arm around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. “Poor baby.”
“So, is this what we have to look forward to with Linc?” Jane asks.
“No,” Michael says never lifting his head, “Linc will be out for another day. Then he’ll wake up practically as good as new. Jerk.”
“Good to know” is Jane’s response.
***
“Michael wasn’t kidding when he said you’d be out for two days.” She’s been waiting for him to wake up already. She’d checked in on him, occasionally poking his spread eagle form to see if she could speed along the process. Didn’t happen.
She sits in the armchair in the far corner of his room. It’s somewhat in the shadows since the only light is the moonlight seeping in through the half open shutters and the soft glow of his bedside lamp. The sound of her voice causes him to jump and in the process almost lose the towel wrapped precariously around his waist.
He’s very tanned, the golden hue of his skin standing out in sharp contrast to the white of the towel. Even from her vantage point she can see tiny droplets of water running down his neck. She remembers what he smells like straight out of the shower.
The look of confusion on his face tells her he has forgotten she’s back. “You thought I was a dream.”
If he remembered anything, he’d probably think she was a dream. He has to admit that at this moment she looks like a dream sitting there with her bare feet propped up on the ottoman. She’s wearing perhaps the shortest shorts he’s ever seen, which makes her already long, slightly tanned legs seem even longer than he remembers. Her arms are bare and her V-neck tee shows a modest amount of skin. He can tell her blonde hair is damp from a shower. The way the light hits her doesn’t help matters either.
He hates her just a little bit for looking like that after going away for two months. He blinks pushing the rising heat down and focuses on getting dressed.
“What are you doing here?”
“In your room? Well,…” her voice takes on a seductive lilt, which he won’t allow her to use on him.
“Baja.” He pulls on a pair of jeans, throwing the towel onto the bed.
“Linc, you know why I’m in Baja,” she says as she crosses the room, getting to him just as his finishes pulling his shirt over his head. She’s on his bed kneeling, the space between them so very small.
“No, I don’t know.” He’s going to be strong in the face of whatever shower gel she used that’s filling his lungs. Seeing her like this is softening the edges of his anger. He hates her a little bit more.
She doesn’t say anything right away. “You,” she finally says. It’s a whisper but he hears it loud and clear. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t react to the word or her hand splaying itself over his heart. “You want me to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She takes her other hand and pulls his chin down so that he’s looking at her instead of at some point over her shoulder. “I truly am.”
Her eyes are glossy, her skin slightly flushed. He thinks to himself 'who’s he kidding?'
The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. He can see the relief that dawns in her eyes. He wants to tell her things, things he should’ve said before she left, those times she called, on Christmas Day if he had been less stubborn, less angry and hurt, and drunk. The only thing that comes out his mouth is “Sorry” as he cradles the back of her head before he kisses her long and hard. They have two months to make up for after all.