Notes:

-English is my second language so I apologize for all the present and future mistakes.

Summary:

How far will two brothers go to save each other? This story focuses on the strength of the brotherly bond between the two brothers.

Sealed with Blood

Part 1

Looking at the fallen and unnaturally still body of his brother, Michael froze and all rational thoughts left his mind as his eyes fixated on his brother's body and the amount of blood surrounding it. Only one thought ran feverishly in his mind: Lincoln was dead. He had lost his brother.

"Dammit!" A voice muttered behind him, which he could barely register. Footsteps followed and Michael tried to comprehend what was happening around him with no success. Two figures kneeled over Lincoln's body, and he could no longer see his brother. Michael blinked.

"Hey Kid," someone whispered in his ears, "He's alive."

Michael stared at the sound blankly.

"Dammit, snap out of it Boy! I'm telling you he's alive!"

"We need to get going. They'll be here soon."

"It's safe to move him. Nothing's broken but he was shot, and the bullet still inside of him. He's lost lots of blood."

"What about his head? That's a nasty looking gash on the back of his head."

"Yeah, he'll be needing stitches there. Now, let's move it."

One took hold of Lincoln's upper body and the other held his legs. Both men managed to haul the limp body with ease.

"Linc" The sight of his brother being carried away triggered a hidden alarm within him. Michael moved toward his brother.

"Not now." Someone held him still, not allowing him to get to his brother.

"But.." Michael tried to shrug off the hold but the man insistently held on.

"We've got to get out of here Michael, or we'll be caught. Do you understand?"

Michael finally stopped struggling and looked up to hold the man's eyes. It was Lincoln's best friend Sam. Michael nodded and allowed Sam to lead him away.

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He stood by the door, not far from the bed where his brother lay unmoving. Two of Lincoln's friends managed to strip Lincoln off his bloody shirt. They turned him over and started working right away. One started to clean off the ugly looking gash on the back of Lincoln's head, and the other started to clean off the bloody wound on his shoulder, which Michael soon recognized with horror as a gunshot wound.

Michael's knees started to buckle and sweat began generously to cover his face. "He's.. been shot."

"Get the kid out of here before he passes out."

"No, we need him," Sam stated grimly as he led Michael closer to the bed and near Lincoln's head. He handed him a bottle half full of some liquid and a cloth.

"Listen Kid," Sam cupped Michael's youthful face in one hand and forced him to look into his eyes, "We need you here, okay? You do want to help your brother right?"

Michael nodded, his fearful eyes wanting to go back to his brother.

"This is chloroform. Do you know what that is?"

Michael nodded again.

"Good. I want you to stand here beside your brother, and if you see him move or hear him emit a sound even a small one, you open the bottle and..."

"I know how to use it." Michael cut him off.

"Good," Sam sounded pleased, "Can you do it?"

"Yes."

"That a boy! I'm sure Lincoln will be very proud of you," He said as he ruffled the little boy's hair.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

An hour later, the gash was cleaned and stitched but the bullet still hasn't come out. Michael was getting restless, his fear for his brother clouding his senses. Suddenly, a slight moan escaped Lincoln followed by a slight turn of his head. Michael froze.

"Hey Kid, move it!"

Trembling, Michael approached his thrashing brother. Sam and another member of Lincoln's gang tried to restrain the half conscious Lincoln.

He cocked the lid open.

"Dammit, move it Kid!"

Michael brought the wet cloth to his brother's face, which was held in place by Sam. As he placed the cloth over Lincoln's nose and mouth, tears welled up in his eyes and threatened to fall, only he stubbornly held them back. He was not going to cry. Lincoln never cried. Soon the thrashing stopped and Lincoln was still again.

"I got the bullet!"

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

It was over now; Michael tried to convince himself of that as he watched the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest closely. Lincoln was not going to die and leave him. His brother will be okay.

Hours passed by and Michael did not tear his sight off his brother's chest. The rhythm of the rise and fall changed and when Michael looked up, Lincoln's eyes were staring right back at him.

"Mike?"

Michael just stared at him wordlessly.

"Are you okay?" Lincoln's voice was rasp and weak.

When his brother remained silent, Lincoln raised his hand and tried to touch him but Michael shrugged his hand off angrily. The tears he held for too long now fell down his face, and he cried.

"You shouldn't have followed me."

"I hate you," Michael told him between sobs, "I hate you."

"Yeah well, you should," Lincoln told him, but his voice was gentle. He ruffled his little brother's hair affectionately, and this time Michael did not pull away, he drew closer and allowed himself to continue crying, only this time in his brothers comforting arms.

"You really should."

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Present Day:

That scene played all too clear in Michael's mind after the bullets that were meant for him tore into his brother's flesh without mercy. Lincoln had put himself in front of him and shielded his body with his own. The force of the bullets pushed Lincoln forward smashing against Michael and sending both of them sprawling on the floor.

"Lincoln.." Michael whispered, as he grasped his brother's body tightly, "Talk to me."

This can't be happening. He was supposed to save his brother not the other way around.

"Damn you Lincoln, answer me!"

"You stubborn fool," Lincoln muttered weakly, "I told you to run."

Michael closed his eyes as the relief of hearing his brother's voice set in.

"Yeah well, I was never that good of a listener."

"No," Lincoln hissed as pain rocked his body, "That was me."

"You hang on now," Michael commanded as he held him even tighter, "you hear me?"

"ON The Floor Now! And Your Hands Where I Can See Them!"

Michael looked up, knowing beforehand what he'll be seeing: Lots of guards circling him and his brother, their weapons pointed at the two of them.

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