III. Internalization


"You can't beat yourself up about this, Linc. There was nothing you could've done."

"Yes, there was. I could've told him the truth."

"You could've, but the outcome would be no different. Michael would've eventually found a way to put this on you and you would bear it like a cross like you always do."

"And he would be right to!" Lincoln stopped pacing and turned to the woman on the couch. "If I'd been quicker - if I had been faster about figuring out what she meant-"

"She still would've lost her head. It's like saying if she hadn't tipped them off with her shoe, L.J. would be with you and she would still be alive," She interrupted. "Who's to say? You can't predict the outcome of a situation like this. They're unpredictable by nature."

Lincoln averted his gaze toward the window and scanned the horizon as if seeking answers from above.

"What happened to Sara Tancredi wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was," He growled stubbornly. "All of this is my fault. Everything."

"Then Michael should take some of the blame as well if your that persistent," She snapped. "He panicked and told you to go looking for them because he didn't think the escape plan would work. His fear led to the situation we're in now."

Lincoln said nothing to this. He kept his forehead pressed against the glass as he tried to get his head together. "Lincoln, your brother still loves you, he just needs to time to get over this," She said. "He'll understand the why soon enough."

Lincoln shook his head. "Doesn't matter. He's never gonna trust me again, Vee. Not like he did anyway," He turned to face petite brunette on the couch. Veronica ran her fingers through her pixie hair cut in resignation at the defeat in her boyfriend's tone. "I wouldn't blame him for it, either. I botched this entire thing. I almost lost my son several times and got Sara killed." He moved away from the window and sat next to her on the couch. Her hand rubbed his back in a vain attempt to comfort him. "All of this is on me."

"Papi?"

Lincoln averted his gaze from the ground to find Sucre closing the apartment door behind him, a tentative look in his eyes. He seemed too afraid to say anything, but he knew he would say it anyway. "How'd it go with Michael?" He inquired.

Lincoln felt the muscle in his left cheek twitch and eyebrows narrow. "How do you think it went, Sucre?" His response was terse and had him pacing across the room again. Sucre blinked, a little taken aback. He shared a look with Veronica who raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, well, is he still gonna go through with the plan?" Sucre asked. Lincoln stopped pacing long enough to meet Sucre's troubled gaze. "I dunno, I hope so, Sucre."


Authors Note: If you're puzzling over the presence of Veronica Donovan, don't trouble yourself. It's more or less because I wanted her alive and was trying out her voice in my head.