Alternate timeline where Luca comes for Linc after they have already settled back into domestic life.
Written from changing points of views. I hope it isn't too confusing.
This Home
The best part of the week was getting to hang out with his uncle after school every day. He loved having his mom pick him up, but running out those front doors to uncle Linc's awesome two-seater car made him feel like the coolest kid in school. And before he ever starts up that noisy engine, he always lets him push the button to make the top go down.
Mike sometimes overhears the teachers on guard duty talk about uncle Linc —how big he is or strong or something. Well, he doesn't think his uncle is fat at all, and he's beaten him at arm wrestling a couple of times, so he's not even that strong. He just rolls his eyes, because those ladies don't know uncle Linc like he does.
His car is really loud —too loud to really have a conversation, even with the roof back on. He usually talked about his day with his mom, and always certainly with his dad whenever he picked him up. But maybe uncle Linc got this car so he didn't have to listen to anybody. Maybe it was so he didn't have to listen to himself think.
The engine is so loud, everything in the car vibrates. When they finally pull up into the driveway and park, the still ground feels funny underneath his shoes. When his uncle kills the engine, the world is quiet again, as if the only thing that was ever alive was that car.
"Honey, how was school today?" Sara is nearly done painting the living room of their new place.
"It was fun," he says out of habit. He hangs his backpack and jacket up by the door. "Oh, and the book fair's coming on Friday!" His excitement is genuine this time.
"That's new. You better bring your wallet on Friday, then," she reminds him.
"Already on it."
Linc comes in and shuts the door behind him. "Go wash up," he says firmly, and pushes Mike's head towards the hallway. "That preschool teacher's been eyeing me," he confesses as soon as Mike is out of range.
"Don't they all? I didn't get many complaints when I told the other moms that you'd be picking him up," Sara doesn't turn from the wall she's painting.
"Yea, well. I might start wearing a turtle neck."
She lets out a laugh and turns around. "Oh, I would love to see you try and put one on." She laughs again at the thought and resumes painting. His laughter, on the other hand, trails off into the other room. It's so warmingly contagious that whenever she hears it, she doesn't forget that at one point, there was a good chance that she would never get to know what it would sound like.
Linc helps himself to kitchen. His fridge is never as stocked as this one, especially with Sheba out of the country the last two weeks. Apart from the condiments, he had eaten mostly everything edible in that apartment.
He just didn't feel comfortable in a grocery store; he didn't really know what to get and how much. Beers and some chips were what he knew, and you didn't need to go into a grocery store for those. When Sheba gets back from the embassy, he'd have to remember to come along with her.
He hears light footsteps running his way. "Ok, I'm ready."
"Good," he answers, a mouth full of chocolate pudding.
They're in the front yard, finally playing with that slingshot he gave Mike for his birthday, much to Michael's disapproval. It's a little destructive —he knows, but hell, he's always wanted one when he was a punk kid and now he's finally got one.
Inside, Sara smiles as she watches them from the other side of the kitchen window. This new house is smaller, less spacious than Jacob's. And after being in a cell for so long, she wonders if Michael had picked this place because familiarity, no matter the circumstance, is still profoundly comforting.
She's washing some plates in a sink that is a little bit aged. The porcelain is unevenly blotched a sick beige, and overall, far too small to use for the three of them. Sara revisits that old house in her mind —the layout of the living room, the way it opens up into the dining space. She walks herself into that bedroom.
But that was a house. And this? This is home.
Linc has an empty soda can balanced on his head. This alone conjures up an audible chuckle from her. "Always getting into trouble," she sighs out to no one in particular. She shakes her head though, enthused, as she starts scrubbing last night's pot.
If you want to follow along with supporting gifs, I'm actually writing this on my tumblr: the-cockroach-house tumblr com