This is Part I of my LETTERS FROM ELWOOD series.

This part is a Mary Sue. Plain and simple. Don't like it? Don't read it! You've been warned.

This story is also Rated T, with leaning towards M. There is cursing. There will be sex. Don't like it? Don't read it! You've been warned.

I don't own the Blues Brothers, but I do take them out to play every once in a while, although never with permission.

LETTERS FROM ELWOOD:

The Liberty of Lies

by Jo Z. Pierce

-

It was hard for him to write that letter. Real hard. Harder than any damned letter he had ever written before.

"Fuck, Elwood!" Jake snapped across the small jail cell. "Would you just put something down, already?"

"Don't know what to say." Elwood never looked up at his brother. He just stared at the blank page.

"You don't know what to say?"

"Nope."

"How about this? I'm in the joint. Send money. That oughtta do it..." Jake fidgeted as he lit up a cigarette while stretching out on his bed.

"I'm not gonna write that, you douche bag."

Silence filled the cell. Elwood sat quietly, with his back leaning against the wall. His legs were tucked up close, almost against his chest. He rested a piece of paper on his thigh while he held a pen in his hand, ready to begin writing. If he ever found the words, he'd write them down. He just didn't know what to say.

He must have written at least a hundred or so letters to her over the past two years. He found that they got easier over time. But this one, from inside Stateville, was really hard to write. It was even more difficult than the first one he wrote, all that time ago, on a crazy whim. He wondered why he ever did write that first one, anyway.

"Oh, why bother, Elwood?" Jake finally asked across the room.

"I guess I owe it to her." Elwood shrugged, and frowned at his inability to write a single word. Years ago, that might have been expected. And if he were like Jake, a letter from him would be about as expected as a Miami snowflake in August. But this wasn't years ago. It was 1980, and writing had almost become second nature to Elwood. What he couldn't say, in his shyness, he had learned to share on the page.

"I can't believe it. My brother's got himself a fucking pen pal..."

Elwood shut his eyes and took a deep breath in, but made no sound.

"Are they at least dirty letters?"

"If they are, I ain't sharin 'em with you."

"Oh, come on. You wouldn't hold out on your brother like that...would you?" Jake struggled, wiggled his round body around the bed, and pulled himself up. He hung his legs over the side.

"Ok, try this out. I'm in the joint. Send money and some dirty photos."

"Leave me alone, Jake." Elwood had not looked up at his brother the whole afternoon. He simply stared at the blank sheet of paper resting on his thigh.

"No. No! How about this... Hey babe. I'm locked in the joint. So send money, some photos of yourself in a black nightie, and some dirty magazines for my brother..."

She'd never believe him. Elwood was convinced of that. It all seemed a little bit too convenient; just a few months before they were finally going to meet he'd landed himself in the joint. And after all this time. She'd think it was his way of backing out of it, now that the time to meet was finally drawing near. She'd probably think that he was locked up all along, writing letters from a goddamned cell. Bullshitting her. She'd probably figure he was lying to her the whole time, even though he wasn't.

Well, at least most of the time.

He let out a small melancholy laugh, thinking about the irony of the whole situation. Jake thought he was laughing at the joke about the girlie magazines.

"I don't wanna ... lie to her."

Elwood always wrote letters to Jake while he was locked up in Joliet for armed robbery. And he always took the liberty of bullshitting him. How could he break the news that the band had split, or that he'd traded the Bluesmobile in for a microphone? He had to give Jake a little bit of hope, to get him through. Maybe that way, there'd be a reason for Jake to be good for once. Parole was a damn good carrot on a stick.

Maybe, he finally thought, I'll do the same. I'll do some time, but get out early on good behavior. But what would that mean? Ten years? Fifteen?

"Well, that's great. You lied to me about the band... to your own damn brother!" Jake continued, the next line with a cheesy falsetto. "But you don't wanna lie to some broad?"

"Nope."

"Some broad you never even met?"

"Yeaah-up."

"Jesus the Journalist Christ! Just write something! Anything! Make some shit up! That's what guys do! What makes you so goddamned different? And you know what Elwood?"

There was no response.

"You know what?" Jake repeated. "We tell them what they wanna hear! And chicks expect that crap. They don't wanna hear the truth! So, what are you doing? Ruining it for the rest of us?

"Yeaah-up."

"For three fucking years you bullshitted me. Your own brother."

"Well, I didn't want you to lose hope..."

"Shit, man..."

"Bullshit, actually," Elwood said, remembering the moment when he told Jake that he took the liberty of bullshitting him for all those years while locked up in Joliet. He cracked a small smile out of the corner of his lip.

Jake sat back in his cot, and tried to calm himself down. As mad as he was with the brother who lied to him, and as frustrated as he was with the brother he didn't always understand, he still wanted to help the brother that he loved. He still had to look out for him, as best he knew how. That's what big brothers did.

He shook his head, as if examining a lost cause.

"Well, just don't tell her you're in for twenty."

"I don't want her to wait for me..."

"Don't worry... Elwood. She won't... she won't..."

For the first time since he ripped the sheet of paper off of the legal pad, Elwood lifted his head and looked across the room at Jake. His eyes went beady. He was angry, and hurt. But he also knew that Jake was right. Again, he offered up a bitter smile.

"She'll spend a few months writing a few polite letters, pretending everything is ok," Jake said softly, as if explaining women to a young child for the first time. Elwood was more than a bit surprised by Jake's concern.

"Soon, she'll find herself some asshole accountant with a real job and a co-op who drives a Honda Civic."

Elwood slowly nodded. "Yeaaah-up..."

"So, just write some shit down. At least you'll get a few letters out of it. And maybe some dirty pictures, too." Jake dropped his head to the pillow, then covered his eyes with his arm to shield him from the light as he tried to take a nap.

Elwood looked at the blank page once again. Finally, with a deep sigh, he put the pen to paper...

September 30th, 1980

Dear Jo,

I told you my brother was getting out of Joliet. Well, its hard to explain. We had to get $5000 for the orphanage fast, for some back taxes. It was just like a mission from God.

Things went wrong, and now we're in the joint together. It's nothing real bad. Just some traffic violations and property damage. But I don't think I'll be able to come see you in December, like I promised.

You once told me you regret some things you've done. And so do I. But I don't regret winding up here. I couldn't see those kids out on the street. I think you understand. Still, I'm sorry for screwing up our plans.

Maybe you can come and visit me? When they let you go? I understand if you can't. Or won't.

I'd like it if you still write me every now and then. I hope writing me isn't one of those things you regret.

Your lost soul,
Elwood