I'm starting to rewrite and reedit this story to try and make it a little better. For some reason, took out a lot of line breaks and made all my italicized flashbacks regular type. So it was a big jumbled mess.

Here's the first new chapter! I combined chapter one and chapter two to condense it and added a smidge more to the story itself.

The finger that dialed information was steady and strong, but the face attached was etched with hesitation.

"Information. How may I help you?" A woman's voice answered.

"I'd like the number and address for Abigail Houston, please. New York State."

Silence enveloped the phone booth as the operator looked up the number, "Ok, we have an Abigail P. Houston from Buffalo, an Abigail R. Houston from New York City, and an Abigail L. Houston from Albany. Do you know the middle initial?"

The voice answered with relief, "Abigail P. from Buffalo."

I wiped the table off and threw the rag down on the counter, "If I have to clean up another spilled beer, I swear to god I'm quitting." I muttered to myself. There was a bachelorette party that had made their way through the diner after, what I assumed to be, a raucous night out at the bars. Our diner didn't even have a liquor permit, but as long as you were pretty and had nice breasts, Terry let you do whatever you wanted. Terry Caller was the owner of the diner and the definition of a sexist pig at its finest.

Needless to say, Terry had never allowed ME to drink liquor there. Not that I drank anyway, but it would have been nice of him to just offer.

Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty enough I guess. I worked with what I've got to my advantage. In the past, that used to come in handy.

My name's Abigail, Abbie to my friends. I'm 28 years old, on the short and skinny side and long brown hair. I'd say on a scale of 1 to 10, I was maybe a 6 and a half. Not ugly, but a little nicer than plain. Of course, I look a lot nicer when I'm not covered in spilt Corona's.

After I took the trash out, I undid my apron and shoved it in my backpack, "I'm done, Terry! I'm heading home!" I yelled into the office as I walked by. I pulled my coat on and fumbled for my keys with numb fingers, "Damn snow." Finally fumbling them out of the bottom of the bag, I looked up towards my car.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw who was leaned up against it.

"Michael..."

flashback to eight months earlier

"Abigail, hurry up and get back to work!" Terry yelled at me from outside the break room door.

Annoyed, I hollered back, "I've got five minutes left on my break! Just let me finish the damn paper!"

"Asshole." I mumbled under my breath. He always wanted me to come back from my breaks early and I usually did just so I didn't rock the boat. But today I was hungry and I tired and I wanted all fifteen minutes off my feet.

I turned the page over and read the headline, 'Prominent Chicago Architect Robs Bank'. As I read the story, my heart sunk lower into my chest, "Oh Michael, what did you do?" The more I read, the more I wanted to throw up. This had to be a mistake. There was no possible way this could be real.

"We need to talk."

I raised an eyebrow at him. The first time in more than two years that I hear his voice and I don't even get a hello, an explanation, a god damned good to see you?

"What makes you think I won't call the police on you? After all, you are an escaped convict." I asked him.

He grimaced, "Because I know you. You don't want me to go back to jail."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I never wanted you to go to jail in the first place."

"Yeah, well sometimes things happen that you never expected," he grumbled at me. I closed my eyes, knowing exactly what he meant.

Straightening up, I gathered my self-control knowing how my next comment would set him off. Might as well get everything out in the open now so I could go home and forget this night ever happened. "Why'd you do it Michael? Why did you ruin your life like that? You were better than that."

"You mean better than you?" He asked, coolly.

Recoiling, I wanted to smack him, "Of course you were better than me. We both knew that."

He lowered his eyes and I knew he was regretting his answer, "I'm sorry, Abbie. I didn't mean that. I just meant that all the times you were put in jail, I didn't completely cut you out of my life. I was always there for you."

"That was different and you know it! Because that was who I was, Michael! Do you really think I wanted to sleep out on the streets in two feet of snow when I could have a warm bed and food to eat? That's how we survived!" He backed up, hearing the word 'we' and I knew what he was thinking.

Trying to keep his voice even, he said with his jaw clenched, "He's fine you know. Him and LJ made it to Mexico."

I rolled my eyes and let out a bitter laugh, "Mike, do you really think that Lincoln would bust out of jail and not contact me?"

He smirked, "I bet you enjoyed that, didn't you? Reunited with the love of your life after so long. Touching. Someone call the Lifetime channel."

I could feel my anger building up the whole time he was talking, "Goddammit, Scofield. Do you really want to get in this now? I never even got to SEE Lincoln. He called me the day after the escape to tell me he was coming up to Buffalo. About ten hours later a bunch of guys in suits showed up on my doorstep and threatened me. The next time he called I told him not to come and to just let me know when he was safe.

"You were threatened? What did they say to you?" He growled, angrily.

"What do you care? They basically told me that if I was lying or hiding anything from them that I'd regret it. You should have known better than to come here. How did you even know how to find me?" I wondered.

"I got your number from information. When I called your house your roommate told me where you worked." He answered, guiltily.

Confused, I asked, "My roommate?"

"Well, it was a woman. Did you become change lifestyles in the last two years?" He answered.

I laughed, figuring out whom he was referring to as my roommate, "That's my neighbor, you ass. She takes care of... things... while I'm gone." I sighed, knowing this small talk could only go on for so long without delving into personal territory. I gave him a once-over, knowing he was freezing, clad in only a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He would need to get out of the snow soon, "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

He hesitated, "I missed you, Abbie. I haven't seen you or heard from you in two years. I couldn't just come out and ask Lincoln if he knew where you was or how you were doing."

"I wrote him a few times," I said, slowly, "That's probably how the suits got my address."

"And you couldn't even spare ten minutes to write me and let me know how you were? Did you not think I would care?" He asked, pain dripping from his words.

"I just wanted to make sure he was doing ok. My heart broke for him when I found out he was going to be sentenced to death. I wanted him to know that I believed in him."

His mouth tightened, "And what did you feel when you found out I was arrested?"

"The same thing I felt the last time I talked to you, 'what a selfish bastard'. I knew you were planning something. Michael the Martyr, always having to bail out his loser of a brother." I spat at him.

He looked at me, hurt, "Abbie, Lincoln's innocent."

I looked at him, incredulously, "I knew that the moment I heard on the news. Of course he's innocent! Linc's a criminal, but he's no murderer. The question is, did you know he was set up or did you automatically believe your brother killed a man?"

He looked away and I knew the answer, "God, Mike, Lincoln adores you. He would do anything for you and you couldn't even have faith in him the one time he really needs his brother behind him. You never gave two shits about him. All he ever was to you was a liability, a hindrance to your success. Was that what I was to you? A liability? You were probably all set to let him rot in prison until they killed him."

"God Abbie," he choked out, "I did the right thing. Why do you hate me so much? If I'm that horrible a person and you hate me so deeply, why don't you just call the police right now?"

I saw his hands trembling and I softened. This wasn't how I wanted our first conversation in so long to go. I took a step closer to him, "For your own safety, stay away from me. They're probably watching my house and I really don't want you to go back to jail." I grabbed his hand and pulled him close to me, "I'll never hate you, Michael." I whispered in his ear. "I didn't hate you then and I don't hate you now. But if you staying safe means staying away from me, then just forget me."

Even though it was freezing out, his breath felt like fire against my neck, "I could never forget you, Abbie." He wrapped his fingers in my hair and pulled my face up to look at him. He slowly leaned towards me as my breath caught in my throat.

Oh god, if he kisses me I don't know if I can control myself, I thought worriedly.

Just as his lips were about to touch mine, he veered his head to the side and kissed me on my jawline. He slowly made his way down to my neck and moved his hands from my hair to my back, pulling me in even closer to him.

This is even worse than kissing, this is torture... He knew exactly what he was doing to me.

I closed my eyes and with what little strength I could muster, managed to push him away from me, "You have to go." I saw that he was about to protest and I knew what needed to be done to get him to understand. I gathered my control and said icily, "I want you to leave."

He immediately dropped his hands from my waist and stepped back, "Abbie, you don't mean this. I..."

I jumped around him while he was talking and threw myself in my car, slamming the door behind me. As fast as I could, I started it up and drove away. I watched him get smaller in my rearview mirror and let out a ragged breath. I realized I had stopped breathing the second he touched me. All this time and he still had that control over me.