standard disclaimer...

A/N I would like to acknowledge Masterarcher who has written me some of the best reviews. I wasn't going to post this for a few days, but your glowing praise deserved a reward. part 1 of two

Not My Son

I looked into his eyes and realized something. This wasn't my son. Couldn't possibly be my son.

I remember when he was little, watching him play in the yard or just when he would look up at me with big eyes. There was something in him that I didn't understand. Back then I thought it was innocence, you know, that fleeting naiveté of small children that lets them smile forever. Now when I look at him. I wonder if I wasn't just seeing his bravery.

His brother had only just been born when I got what seemed to be the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to really change the world. A chance to be a major player.

It wasn't that I didn't love them. I did. But when I considered my options I knew something else. I loved them enough for them to be a liability, but not enough for me to change.

Once a long time ago a friend in the Company told me that just meant I didn't want the guilt of their deaths on my conscience when I betrayed them. He was right. I wouldn't have done anything differently. I still wouldn't have done anything differently. Even if it cost them their lives.

So, I looked at my life that last night. My eyes swept over the walls of the house, examined pictures and knick knacks. Stared for twenty minutes at a picture of Lincoln's on the refrigerator. It was a picture of our family that he drew the day his brother was born.

Then I went down to look in his room.

Psychology books all say that children struggle with jealousy when new babies are born, but I never saw anything like that in Lincoln. I think it was because of something his mother told him when we first found out.

She said, "You are such a strong little boy, Lincoln, and I am so proud that you're my son. When this baby comes, it's going to be a special present for you. Someone who is always yours and who you'll always belong to." She smiled in that vibrant way of hers and then, "You know what makes me happiest?"

He shook his head and I think he might have been scared.

"What makes me happiest is knowing that you are strong enough and brave enough to be tied to someone like that."

"What do you mean, Mommy?"

"You know how much Mommy loves you, right? And you know how special you feel when Mommy gives you a big hug?"

He was nodding excitedly.
"Well, when you someone belongs to you, it's your job to always make them feel special and loved. Can you do that for the baby?"

This time the scared came back a little bit, but only for a moment, and then he looked at his mother and very gravely nodded again.

"This is my baby!"

That was a memory I never forgot, never let go of even when my whole life before the Company seemed like a dream. That and my last look at Lincoln that night as I watched him from the hall.

I never looked back after I left. I could have, I could have kept tabs on them, but I didn't. Somehow it didn't seem important. I wonder now what I would have done if I'd know. If I'd known that she died. If I'd known about anything.

But I didn't know until I heard about Steadman. That was when I started to look. I looked at their school records, Lincoln's rap sheet. I tracked down Lisa Rix and her son. I even spent an hour listening to his brother and Veronica Donovan have dinner. I found out everything I could about the little boy I left behind. And I made a decision.

The people who belonged to Lincoln were…I don't know if there's even a good word for it. He did right by them. His brother was leading a perfect life. His son was right on track to do the same. The girl from the neighborhood made it to a better world. And he'd had the good sense to let them go when he could do no more.

All that added up for me. It was an acceptable loss primarily because I thought Lincoln had done everything he could do, and there were others who could still do so much. Me included

Things weren't right though. The balance started to tip. It took three years for me to completely realize something incredible. His brother wasn't leaving it alone; his son didn't seem to be forgetting. The girl wouldn't move on. And I couldn't let go of the little boy who was either brave or naïve, but was somehow still my little boy.

But I was wrong about that. He wasn't my little boy. He wasn't my son. I understood that as I looked into his eyes at that junkyard.

The thing that shocked me at first was his anger. Mostly because it didn't seem to be about the chair or the fact that I let him go there. His rage was for his brother and his son. Even for his ex-wife, which I can't understand. He spoke of them with such passion, with such possession. As though they were his.

But the thing that really made things clear was when he sent me away. When he looked at the situation and made a decision to protect me the way I never protected him.

Because you see, this man lived something that I had only just realized, something that I never understood.

When someone belongs to you, you protect them, you sacrifice for them, and you love them even when it hurts, even when living for yourself would be easier.

Lincoln had something incredible. Three people who he claimed as his own and who claimed him in return. Three people who at some point he'd decided 'this is mine!' and who would never get anything less than the best he knew how to give.

I didn't have the right to call him my own and yet he couldn't bring himself to forget that I was once his.

I looked into the eyes of that brave little boy and I knew that even if I didn't have the right, I had the responsibility. And I wished I had the guts to do what he'd done without a thought.

Instead, I ran.

tbc...