Notes: Okay so I'm exhausted as I'm posting this, and it's kind of cut off at the end, so we'll see if I reread it and decide to edit the whole thing! But yeah, I seem to be caught in the flashback mode, but I'll get back to the present day soon enough I swear! I really want to do the Riot scene, for example. Thanks for the reviews, please keep them coming. Hope you enjoy. Again this chapter might be changing a lot.

Emilie- I wish you had an account on here so I could reply to your reviews! I just wanted to answer your questions: You asked whether in my mind, Lincoln does beat Michael or if it just a constant threat? I think Lincoln is a physical person... I think he gets trapped in his mixed thoughts sometimes and it erupts sometimes physically more than verbally. Like on the show when he is in final visitation and he flips over the table and is just angry, and Michael's face kind of has a look like he's not surprised by the outburst. I don't think he would ever be abusive to Michael. But in that sense did he ever hit him? The characters that I'm writing the answer is yes, but at the same time, it's more commonly a threat than an actuality. I think Lincoln is very protective of his brother, and in the same sense I think if anyone else ever touched Michael he would go ballistic. But even Veronica made mention of it on the show that Lincoln beat up Michael to keep him from becoming like him. I think Lincoln acts more out of fear than anything else. It's complex, but hopefully I'm answering aptly to get what I think across.

Again I think this chapter's going to be kind of weak, but please enjoy and be constructive!

Chapter 10

Michael thought his day was going fairly well. That was, as well as an average day for a junior in high school during midterms could possibly go. He got home in a fairly good mood, feeling like he aced his chemistry exam and knowing the calculus exam the next day would be a piece of cake.

His mood changed a few minutes after he unlocked the apartment door and flipped the light switch on the wall.

No light came on.

Puzzled, he closed the door behind him and tossed his backpack to the floor. He walked over towards the light on the end table and turned it on. Except it didn't turn on either. He frowned.

Next he tried the TV.

Nothing.

Suddenly a feeling of dread filled him. There was no electricity? He didn't understand how that could be.

"Lincoln!" he called.

There was no answer. He walked towards the bedroom and glanced in. The room was dark, and no one was in sight.

The bathroom was empty. So was the kitchen.

He opened the refrigerator. No light was on inside, but it still felt cold. But judging by the condensation starting to form on the outside of the milk container, he could tell that it wasn't exactly staying cooled on electricity's accord.

He shut the door, hoping to keep in all the cold he could so that what they had wouldn't go bad.

He thought for a moment and then looked on the counter, shuffling through the envelopes and papers in a pile.

He found the utility bill and opened it. He knew it. He knew it well. He had paid it. He always paid the bills.

He stared at it for a moment, making sure he remembered it. And he did. This was definitely the one he'd paid. It didn't make any sense.

He looked at the customer service number and walked over to the phone.

Lincoln was going to kill him. He didn't know where Lincoln was, but he knew this wasn't good. He wondered if Lincoln knew the electricity was out. Maybe that was why he wasn't around.

He dialed the number and was immediately put on hold. He sighed and leaned against the wall. He knew this day had gone too seamless for something not to happen. But this? He really wasn't expecting this.

He glanced at the wall, at the clock. It was just four o'clock. But it was the end of October, and the sun would set probably by five. Then it would just be dark.

He hated being on hold.

He stared at the bill, glaring at it, wondering how he could have possibly messed this up.

Different scenarios went through his mind.

Did he forget the stamp? No. He clearly remembered putting on a stamp.

Addressed wrong? How though? He wrote the same address every month. It really wasn't hard. He nearly had it memorized.

Maybe it was stuck in the mailbox he'd dropped it in. That was always a possibility. Maybe it was jammed in there. It was raining when he'd put it in, maybe it had gotten wet, and just kind of stuck itself somewhere….

Or maybe it was just lost in the mail. That could happen too.

He was simply anxious by the time he finally got off hold and was able to talk to somebody. He looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes on hold. Ridiculous.

He read the account number off the bill when they asked for it.

"Address?" the woman on the other end of the line asked. She didn't sound like she liked her job much.

Michael told her his address.

"Burrows?" she asked.

"Yeah," Michael answered with a sigh. "Lincoln."

"Okay, what seems to be the problem?"

"Well, I'm just a little confused because… Well, I know that I paid the bill on time this past month. It was due on the fifteenth. And I just got home, and there's no electricity." He paused. "Unless there's an outage in this area."

"Let me see…" she said monotonously. He heard her clicking on the computer. "Okay, Mr. Burrows… I see here on record that your payment was received on the fourteenth… By check…. Oh here we go. That check bounced, Mr. Burrows."

"Bounced?" Michael echoed. He felt a sinking feeling.

"Yes," she answered. "If you read the terms of your bill, you'll see the late fees associated with—"

"Late fees? When were we going to be told…" Michael began in exasperation. "So you don't just say something? I mean the bill was paid early. Isn't there a notice or—"

"The notice is that your power has been turned off, Mr. Burrows. When we receive payment—"

"No, I don't understand. I mean—"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not sure what else you want to hear. We did receive your check, but it bounced. You may want to call your bank and—"

"But I don't understand."

"Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"No, but—"

"You can send payment to the same address listed on your bill. You can also pay by credit card over the phone."

Michael hesitated. Lincoln had his credit card. "I… Okay."

"In that case, thank you for your service, and have a good day."

"But—" Michael cut himself off as he heard a click and then dial tone. He held the phone in one hand, the bill in the other, completely baffled.

He hung up the phone and tossed the bill on the counter again. Suddenly he was mad at Lincoln. Michael had paid the bill. He hadn't done anything wrong. The money was Lincoln's problem. Why couldn't Lincoln do anything?

He picked up the phone again and dialed Veronica's cell phone.

She answered after three rings. "Hello?"

"Veronica…" he began, taking a deep breath. "Hi."

"Hey, Michael. What's going on?" she asked. "I haven't heard from you in a while."

"Do you know where Lincoln is?" he asked.

She laughed. "Michael… I'm in Texas right now…"

He felt like banging his head against the wall. Of course. Of course she was in Texas. He knew that. "Oh. Right. How's Baylor?"

"Good. Waco's really a lot different than Chicago, but it's good. What's going on? Why are you looking for Lincoln?"

"Well…" He looked at the refrigerator. At where their food was probably going bad. He sighed.

"What's going on?" she persisted, tone becoming concerned.

"I just…" He rubbed at his short hair. "I just got home from school. And there's no power. But I paid it. And I called the company and asked, and they said the check bounced."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Veronica?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"But I don't know where he is."

"Typical."

"I paid it though," Michael persisted. "I did pay it."

"It's not your fault, Michael," she answered. "It's your brother's fault for being an ass."

"But what should I do?"

"I'm in Texas," she began. "I mean—"

"I'm sorry," he began. "It was stupid of me to call you. I just didn't think… I think Lincoln and then I think you, and I completely… Of course I know you're in Texas."

"Don't be sorry. I'm glad you called me. I'm just saying that I wish there was something I could do, but from here it's harder… You know?"

"No, it's okay…" he began. "I shouldn't have called you, I just don't really know where—"

"Did you try Lincoln at work?"

"He doesn't have a phone there. But he said he was getting off early today…"

"Nothing works? No lights, no TV, nothing?"

"Nothing," Michael agreed. "I can't call the bank. Because for that I have to actually be Lincoln. I don't know his numbers. But—"

"What the hell did he spend the money on? Did you pay your rent this month?"

"Yeah, I pay that on the first. That wasn't a problem. I don't think…. I mean, the landlord hasn't said anything…"

"Lincoln is an idiot. He's so lucky to have you paying the bills."

"But they didn't get paid."

"I know, but it's not your fault, Mike. You did pay it. In theory."

He frowned. "Yeah…"

"What, does Lincoln expect you to balance his checkbook too?" she muttered. "I mean, he's got to do something, you know? Don't beat yourself up over this."

Michael played with the telephone cord. "I don't know the whole story yet though. Do you think he'll be mad about it?"

"Michael. You didn't do anything."

"Yeah, but—"

"Michael," she said. "Listen. You didn't do anything."

"What should I do though?"

"It's his problem. You don't know when he's coming home?"

"No. I never do." Michael let out a sigh. "I don't know why I thought you'd know where he was. Look, I just got home… I'll just wait around and see. He should be home anytime so…"

"You remember," she began. "If he gets mad, don't let it be at you, Michael. You didn't do anything. It's him mad at himself."

"Will the food go bad?"

"What food?"

"In the fridge."

"Just don't open the door. It might be okay."

Brow furrowed, he paused. "But I opened it once. When I was checking if it was on."

"It's okay," she replied. "Just leave it now."

"Okay."

"Look, Michael. Don't sit and wait in an empty, dark apartment."

Michael looked inside. The sunlight still filtered in from the window. "It's not dark yet. It probably won't be for a little while at least."

"Go to a friend's or something, Michael. Don't just wait around for him. You hear me? I don't—"

"I don't need your permission to do anything," he began.

She laughed. "I'm not giving you permission for anything. I'm giving you suggestions. That's all. You can do whatever you want. If you wanna sit in the dark waiting for your stupid big brother, you can go right ahead."

"Yeah."

"But I wouldn't suggest it."

"He might be home soon."

"When he does come home, tell him to call me, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Okay. And if you need me, call me. Even if I'm in Texas, you know you can still call me," she persisted.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll talk to you later. Thanks."

She sighed. "Bye, Mike. Talk to you later."

Michael waited around for Lincoln for a little while. He flipped through a magazine as he sat on the couch inside. He didn't really have anything else to do. No TV. No homework. Studying for calculus was unnecessary.

As the sun went down and the light inside became less, he grew more frustrated. To make it worse, the windows had a northern exposure. So there was really no sun coming in.

He thought about it being completely dark inside. No lights, no TV, no nothing, and got a little bit concerned. It was an unsettling idea. Maybe Veronica was right. Sitting around waiting for Lincoln really wasn't going to do anything.

He realized he'd been reading the same page for about ten minutes and sighed. He couldn't stop thinking about the bills, and Lincoln, and having no electricity.

He decided to call his friend Sean.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Hi, Mrs. Claiborne…" Michael greeted uncomfortably as the middle-aged woman answered the door. She was in a suit, as though she'd just gotten home from work, and he scratched his head. "Uh, Sean said—"

"Yes, Sean said you were coming over, Michael," the woman answered with a smile. "He's just inside playing video games. Come on in."

He stepped into the townhouse foyer, glancing around. He'd only been to Sean's house a few times, and he always felt a little awkward because it was so nice. He always felt like he shouldn't touch anything. They had decorated for Halloween already, and he looked at the decorative fall leaves that adorned the staircase railing.

"How are you doing, Michael? I haven't seen you in a while," she continued as she led him down the hall.

"I'm good," he answered.

"Midterms going well? Sean said you're pretty smart, right?"

"Uh, yeah, they're going well," he answered, impressed that she knew that it was midterms at school. He started to hear the video games as they approached the family room.

"Well, I'll leave you guys to yourselves," she said as they reached the room. Sean was in the same t-shirt and jeans he had on at school, sprawled on the floor playing a video game in front of a large TV. "Sean, honey," his mother said.

He paused the game and looked up. "Oh, hey, Mike. Cool. Want to play?"

"Sure," Michael agreed.

"I hope you're staying for dinner, Michael," Mrs. Claiborne persisted before she disappeared down the hall.

Michael walked in to the room and sat down on the floor next to Sean, glancing at the leather couch behind them and the shelves of movies and video games. It was like being in a store. "You didn't tell your mom about what I told you, right?"

"What?" Sean began, adjusting the baseball cap on his head. "About you not having power or anything?"

Michael scowled at him. "Yeah. Don't tell her."

"Why? I mentioned it. It's kind of weird, man."

"It's not weird. It's a mix-up."

Sean just made a face. "She won't say anything. She'll just make you stay for dinner."

"I don't want her feeling bad for me," Michael persisted. "It's just a mix-up. It'll probably be on as soon as I go home."

Sean held the controller in his hand. "You can spend the night if you want."

Michael shook his head. "I don't want to spend the night."

"My sister's away at school. So you could even have a bed."

"No. I'll go home after dinner, and Lincoln will be home," Michael answered persistently.

"Sure." Sean handed his controller to him and got up to grab another one from a few feet away. "Let's play."

"Okay." Michael looked up at the TV as Sean went through the menus and brought it back to restart it with two players. The TV was about three times the size of the one he and Lincoln had; he was really amazed by it.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dinner was weird. Michael felt out of place with Sean, his mother, his father, and his six year old brother. And all the home cooked food. He and Lincoln cooked, sure, but it just wasn't like this.

"I hope you like chicken parmesan," Mrs. Claiborne said to Michael as she passed him a salad bowl.

"I do," he answered. "Thanks for having me."

"Anytime, honey."

"How was work, Dad?" Sean asked, glancing over at the gray haired, heavy-set man who was buttering a roll.

"Good, Sean," the man answered, looking up. "We started on that TeleMax deal I was telling you about last week, so things have really picked up. We've got a great team on it though, and—"

"Daddy," the little boy sitting next to their mother began. He had marker on his face. "Daddy, why—"

"Peter," Mr. Claiborne started. "What have we said about interrupting?"

Peter made a face. "I dunno, Daddy, but today in school I drew a truck."

The father just shook his head and laughed. "A truck, huh?"

Michael watched their exchanges interestedly, thinking about himself and Lincoln's typical dinner, which they sometimes ate at the kitchen table and sometimes ate in front of the TV, barely looking at each other. This seemed so… formal. And yet it wasn't. It was just a family, eating, talking to each other… It wasn't formal at all.

"Is it still just you and your brother, Michael?" Mrs. Claiborne asked.

Michael nodded as he passed the salad bowl onto Sean. It was like Sean's mother was reading his mind. "Yeah. Just us."

"How is that?"

Michael shrugged. "It's good. I mean, we get along well." He paused. "Most of the time, anyway. It's just… how it's been, so… It's good."

"Sean's just started picking out some colleges," she continued. "Are you starting to think about that too?"

"Mom," Sean objected, rolling his eyes. "No one wants to talk about this."

"Your mother does," his father replied.

"Michael doesn't though," Sean persisted. "And besides, she talks about it all the time."

"It's okay," Michael said gently. His friend gave him an exasperated look, but he didn't see why it was such a big deal.


"Where are you thinking of?" Mrs. Claiborne persisted. "Sean's dad went to Northwestern, but I'm not sure Sean's going to follow in his footsteps…" She sent her son a smirk.

"It's so far away anyway, to think about it right now," Sean answered.

"It's not though. This is the year you have to apply, honey." She turned to Michael. "Where are you thinking about so far?"

"Well…" Michael hesitated. "I mean… I haven't really thought too much about it, but…"

"See?" Sean muttered.

"Somewhere close I guess," Michael said. To be honest, he had no idea. The only times that he and Lincoln had talked about it so far consisted of Lincoln saying he was going to go, no matter what. Michael wasn't sure exactly how, or where, but his guidance counselor at school had started giving him brochures. He hadn't shown them to Lincoln yet.

"Close is good." She agreed. "You always need your family."

Michael nodded.

Dinner conversation drifted away from him after a few minutes, and he was thankful. He liked Sean's family, but he didn't know what to say to them. And especially after he found out Sean had told his mother about him and Lincoln not having any electricity… He just felt like she pitied him or something. She had this sad look when she talked to him. It wasn't like a typical motherly concern that she would have for any of Sean's friends. It was sympathy.

He didn't want anybody's sympathy. If Lincoln taught him anything it was to be proud. They had lots to be proud about.

That's why when, a little after dinner, as he was about to leave and Mr. Claiborne approached him with a checkbook, he suddenly felt nervous.

"Look, son…" the man began.

Michael stared at the checkbook for a minute, and then up at the friendly looking man. He didn't like being called son.

"Sean told us about the little problem that you and your brother—"

"We're not having a problem," Michael objected. "I don't know what Sean told you but—"

"Son," the man said again, making Michael feel restless. He opened the checkbook. "You don't have to say anything. Look, I wrote out a check, it's not a lot, so you don't have to worry; it's just enough that should cover your utilities so you boys don't have to stress these next couple days."

"We don't need—"

"I already wrote the check." Mr. Claiborne ripped the check out of the checkbook and held it out to Michael. "No good not taking it."

Michael stared at it, hesitating. He couldn't take it.

"You don't have to tell me whether you do or don't need it," the man persisted. "But I'll take it as an insult if you don't take it though."

An insult? Michael wasn't sure how to absorb that. He wasn't sure what to do. Lincoln would tear him apart for this. But before he really could respond, the man was folding the check and putting it in his hand.

"We really don't…" Michael began.

"Just take it."

"Well…. Thanks, I guess," Michael answered. He thought to himself, they didn't have to cash it. It was just a gesture. "That's really generous."

"Don't even think of it. It's nothing."

Nothing was subjective.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The apartment was candlelit when Michael got home. Lincoln was sitting on the couch eating out of a Chinese take-out carton with several candles lit on the coffee table in front of him.

"Don't you look romantic," Michael muttered.

Lincoln looked up. "Romantic? Fuck you."

Michael smirked.

"C'mere. Where have you been?" Lincoln persisted, watching Michael walk in and shut the door behind him. "I should have you keep that door open for light from the hall…"

"I've been out," Michael answered slowly. He was disappointed. He didn't know why he thought that things might have changed by the time he came home. Of course nothing would be different. It was just darker. At least Lincoln was home.

"What do you think of this?" Lincoln gestured to the darkness.

"I don't know," Michael answered. "Don't want to think about it. That's why I left."

"That's why you left?" Lincoln echoed.

Michael walked over to the couch, watching as Lincoln dug back into the food. It looked like lo mein, but it was hard to tell in the dark. Michael settled next to him.

"Want?" Lincoln offered him the carton.

"No," Michael answered, pushing it away.

"You eat?"

Michael nodded.

Lincoln wiped off his mouth, frowning. "Where?"

"Sean's."

"Who's Sean?" Lincoln asked, stuffing another forkful of noodles into his mouth.

"Friend." Michael watched him with a frown. "Aren't you going to ask me why we don't have electricity?"

"I figure you're going to tell me. And I wanna figure out where you've been first." Lincoln twirled his fork in the food. He ate another forkful. "By the way…" he said as he swallowed. "I would appreciate it if you left me a note when you run off."

"I didn't run off."

"Either way. Leave me a note."

"You don't leave me notes. I didn't know where you were when I got home."

"You got home at… What, Mike?" Lincoln made a face. "Like three-thirty?"

"It's only nine right now, Lincoln."

"Only nine. Michael, there's a difference between me not being home at—"

"You said you got off early today."

"I did. I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about you. It's dark out. I don't want you to—"

"Dark out? It's darker in here."

"Listen, Michael. I didn't bring this up to argue with you. I just said to leave me a note when you go somewhere. Especially on a Tuesday when you shouldn't even be out. Easy enough; we've been through this."

Michael muttered to himself.

"What?" Lincoln gave him a look.

"You're a hypocrite," Michael responded. "And I'm not a little kid, Lincoln. I think being outside when it's dark is okay. What, I'm going to get mugged now?"

"That's not what I said, Michael. Don't twist my words when you know what I mean. Letting me know where you are isn't hard."

"It's not. You're just a hypocrite."

Lincoln just shook his head, continuing to eat.

Michael leaned his head back tiredly. "Where were you anyway?"

"Went out with some guys after work," Lincoln replied.

Michael set his jaw. "And when'd you get back?"

"Like an hour ago."

"So… Let me get this straight. You're mad at me because I wasn't here… Yet if I was here, I woulda been sitting in the dark for over four hours…"

"I'm not mad at you," Lincoln answered. "And I never said you should be sitting here. All I said was you could leave me a note when you leave. So I don't worry. Again, we've been through this."

"And all I said was you could leave me a note too."

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "Okay, Michael," he said sarcastically.

"Lincoln," Michael objected. "Don't."

Lincoln looked up at him. "What?"

"You don't understand."

"Okay, I don't understand," Lincoln agreed noncommittally.

Michael sighed, waiting a minute before he started talking again. "You know why the lights are out, right? I mean, aren't you angry about it?"

"I've been thinking about it… I was kinda pissed when I first got home, but I ordered food, and… I mean, did you pay the bill? I thought you would."

"I did."

"Then what?"

"I wrote the check. But I don't know what's in the bank account. Why do you assume it's my fault?"

"Mikey." Lincoln sighed. "Did I say it was your fault?"

"Well you asked me if I paid it."

"Because you usually do, buddy, that's all."

"I did pay it."

"Then what?"

"The check bounced." Michael rubbed at his forehead. "So I don't know what you spent the money on… But there wasn't enough in the account."

"Not even for the utilities?" Lincoln looked aghast. "Shit."

"What'd you spend it on?"

Lincoln shook his head. "I don't even… Fuck, then the bank charges you for the bounced check, you know that, right?"

"I know that?" Michael echoed. "Why should I know that? You never said— Lincoln, why is it my fault?"

"I already said it's not. Really, it's not, Michael. I'm not saying…" Lincoln leaned forward and put down the carton of Chinese food abruptly. "I'm not saying that at all, so stop asking me that."

"What'd you spend it on though?"

"It doesn't even matter. It's—"

"Yes, it does matter," Michael insisted, growing exasperated. He let out a deep breath.

"Listen. Did you call the company and did you ask—"

"Yes, Lincoln," Michael snapped. "Yes. You think I know the check bounced 'cause I have ESP or something?"

"Listen, man…" Lincoln answered with a hint of annoyance. "We don't have to argue about this, and—"

"But you're asking me," Michael persisted. "You're asking me like I control it, and I can't control it because you don't give me any ability to."

"You're not making sense. What did they say when you called?"

Michael sighed. "That the check bounced. So there's gonna be a late fee and we have to pay. They don't give warnings, they shut you off."

"Great. Late fee. Bank's gonna charge for the check and now a late fee…" Lincoln muttered. "Why do we even need electricity…? Hey, what checkbook did you use?"

Michael raised his eyebrows. "You said they were both good."

"Which one though?"

"I dunno. I…" Michael suddenly felt anxious again.

"I'll doublecheck. I mean… Maybe it's…" Lincoln trailed off. "I just don't know."

"All the food's gonna go bad."

"Yeah… I didn't even think about that…"

Of course you wouldn't, Michael thought bitterly. "Veronica said that if you leave the refrigerator shut some of it might be—"

"Veronica?" Lincoln gave him an intense look. "What? When did you talk to her?"

"I called her because—"

"Because?" Lincoln looked a mix of shock and anger.

"Why won't you let me finish?" Michael answered.

Lincoln worked his jaw. "Go ahead. Tell me."

"I didn't know where you were," Michael replied slowly. "I thought maybe you'd talked to her."

"She's in Texas."

Michael ran his hand over his hair. "I know, Lincoln. But…"

"So you had to tell her? How I've failed again?"

"I didn't say that…" Michael said in exasperation.

"But what'd she think? When you're like, hi, we have no power, and I don't know where Lincoln is?"

"But I didn't know…"

Lincoln just shook his head. He leaned forward and picked up his food again. "Great. Just great. I'm sure she's thrilled with me."

"Lincoln…" Michael put his hand on his brother's arm briefly. "That's not why I called her…" When Lincoln wouldn't look at him, he pulled away and folded his arms over his chest. "Fine, be mad."

"I'm not… It's just we have no fucking power, Michael. I mean, I was pissed, I got over it because how did that change it, but now it's more… God. No power. I'm useless."

"So what do we do, Lincoln?"

Lincoln held the food carton on his knee absentmindedly. "I get paid Friday. I don't know what to do before Friday," he admitted. "I…"

Michael hesitated and then reached into his pocket, pulling out the folded check. Lincoln was a mixture of moods now, so it might not be the best time, but it was completely relevant. "Lincoln…" he began.

Lincoln slouched down, taking a deep breath and setting the carton beside him. He stared at the candles. "What, Mike…"

Michael wasn't sure how to explain it. He held the check in his hand for a moment, knowing Lincoln wasn't going to be easy about this. "Don't be mad," he began.

"For God's sake," Lincoln began. "I'm not mad at you. Grow some balls."

"Not mad yet," Michael objected. He held the paper out. "Look, I said no, and I didn't even want it, but—"

Lincoln took the paper and unfolded it. He stared at it. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I didn't—"

"Michael."

Michael shut his mouth, staring at the dimly lit coffee table.

Lincoln took a deep breath. "Michael…."

"I didn't ask for it," Michael said softly, "if that makes a difference."

"You know how I feel about charity, Michael."

"I didn't ask for it," Michael repeated. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Why do you have to bring people into our situation?" Lincoln persisted. "I mean, you call Veronica. You run off to your friends and tell them. I mean—"

"I didn't!" Michael insisted. "Lincoln, I didn't even say anything."

"Then why do you get a home cooked meal and a welfare check? Like you're a poor little orphan or something?"

"God, Lincoln…" Michael made a face. "You're completely taking this out of context."

"Then put it into context for me, Michael."

"It's not a stupid welfare check."

"Why is anyone giving you a check for anything, Mike? Help me understand this."

Michael let out an exasperated sigh. "I didn't want to be here in the dark, so I called Sean, told him what was up, and he said I should come over. So I did. I didn't expect him to tell his parents. What do you expect, I can't even tell my friends anything? I mean, I didn't know he'd do that."

"Yeah."

"When I was leaving, his dad was like, here… And I told him I didn't want it. And he said he would take it as an insult if I didn't take it."

"An insult?"

"I didn't know what to do. He just… He handed it to me. You don't have to cash it. I just…"

Lincoln stared at it. "Does he want me to pay him back?"

Michael shrugged. "Are you going to cash it?"

Lincoln made a face. "It's tempting. I wish you hadn't… I mean…"

"I didn't do anything…" Michael muttered.

"No," Lincoln agreed. "It's just… I can't stand having them… They probably think I can't take care of anything. I mean…"

"I told them it was a mistake," Michael persisted. "That it was just a mix-up."

"Yeah, I'm sure they bought that."

Michael paused. "I'm sorry, Lincoln…"

"Don't be sorry…" Lincoln sighed. "You don't need to be. You did everything right."

"I shouldn't've told Sean. Or Veronica…." Michael trailed off as he remembered. "Oh. I forgot. She said for you to call her."

"To tell me how I'm abusing you and can't run a household, no doubt…" Lincoln rolled his eyes. He folded the check in his hand. He hated it. He wanted to tear it up. It took all of his effort not to. Because there was Michael sitting next to him, feeling guilty about it, and there was their need, in the darkness of the apartment.

"I doubt that," Michael said. "I'm sorry. I just— I don't know. I'm sorry."

Lincoln took a deep breath, thinking. "Can you do me a favor, Michael?"

"Depends," Michael answered slowly.

Lincoln smirked at his reluctance. He was smart. "It's an easy favor…" he said.

"Don't tell other people we have no power?"

"No."

"Oh wait. I just remembered. You can pay by credit card actually." Michael suddenly brightened. "I forgot. So you could put it on your credit card. Then they'll turn it on tomorrow."

"Good," Lincoln answered, feeling slightly better himself. He patted Michael on the thigh and left his hand there. "Listen. My favor. Stop feeling responsible for everything. Okay? We'll make a deal. I'll try to get my act together and you stop trying to be accountable for everything."

Michael was quiet.

"Tell me you understand," Lincoln persisted, squeezing his leg.

"Alright." Michael paused. And then, "Do we need more money, Lincoln?"

Lincoln shook his head. "Don't worry about money."

"How can you say that when—"

"The power will be back on tomorrow, man. I promise."

"I don't care if it's not tomorrow, right away, Lincoln, I mean if… It's just it doesn't cost a lot to pay the bill for a month… I mean, it does, I'm not saying that, it's just compared… Compared to what should probably be in the bank each month…"

"We've always scraped by, Michael. You know that."

"But if I got a job to—"

"No. Don't start this again." Lincoln shook his head. He pushed himself up off the couch.

"Where are you…. Wait," Michael objected.

"I'm getting some water to drink." Lincoln gave him a look as Michael got up and followed him. "Michael, don't start."

"But if I did have a job—"

"I don't want you to." Lincoln walked into the kitchen with Michael on his heels.

"You won't listen. If I did then—"

"I even don't want you to explain." The kitchen was dark but Lincoln found a glass and went to the sink to get some tap water. "Do I know what you having a job does? Sure. But you don't need one, and I don't want you to have one. I want you to go to school, do good in school, and that's it. That's your job."

Michael grunted. "Lincoln."

"Nothing. Don't argue it. You've got enough responsibilities." Lincoln leaned against the counter, watching his brother in the faint light. Michael looked completely frustrated, but he was used to that look on Michael's face, even now in the near dark. "Don't fight me. Not now especially."

"But I want to. You work."

"One, I'm older than you. And two, I didn't finish high school. So, what else do you want to argue?"

"There's no correlation there. If I get a job, I'm not gonna quit school. I'm not like you," Michael objected. Then he stopped himself and suddenly looked regretful. "Not that you didn't have to," he began. "Lincoln." He paused. "I know you couldn't…"

Lincoln just shook his head, sipping the water. "Just stop it before you dig yourself deeper."

Michael hated being cut off. He hated not being able to explain himself. It wasn't a right or wrong situation. It was completely opinion. But Lincoln's opinion on things like this usually stood, and this time was no exception.

"What if I did get one?" Michael began.

"Why though, Mike?"

"To help."

"It's not helping," Lincoln answered. "It's pissing me off. Can you just trust me on this? Consider it a favor. You already know where I stand on it."

Michael frowned.

"Don't you have homework?" Lincoln asked, anxious to change the subject. "I don't even know what time it is. But you should do your homework while the candles are still decent."

"I'm not doing anything by candlelight." Michael rolled his eyes. "Like Little House on the Prairie. Besides. I don't have any. It's midterms this week."

"Midterms?" Lincoln echoed. He was amazed. Midterms were important. Here he was depriving his brother of a home with electricity, and the kid was in the middle of a testing week at school. Great. "You're kidding."

"No."

"You need to study?"

"No. Not for tomorrow."

"How'd the others go?" Lincoln persisted.

"Good, I guess."

"You didn't tell me it was midterms, Michael."

"You didn't ask." Michael shrugged. "Not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? Sure it is. Your grades are important. Which do you have tomorrow?" Lincoln

"Calc."

Lincoln nodded. He knew his brother was good at math. He was good at school in general, as long as he focused himself. He felt like when Mike said he didn't need to study, he actually meant it.

"Linc."

"Yeah?" Lincoln looked up.

"I just thought. If we don't have power, there's no alarm clock. So how are either of us gonna wake up tomorrow?"

Lincoln paused and then smirked. "Ah, the logical one of the family. Good question. You mean your biological clock won't wake us up?"

Michael shrugged. Sometimes he woke up before the alarm, but he wouldn't depend on that to get to his exam on time or to get Lincoln up for work. "That's a stupid question, Lincoln."

"Well, when I call back Veronica so she can yell at me, then I'll ask her to call us in the morning. She always wakes up early for class."

"That early?"

"I'm not sure. We could go over to Lisa's, I guess."

Michael made a face. "Really?"

"What do you mean, really?" Lincoln frowned at him.

"I thought she had a new boyfriend."

"This isn't about her having a boyfriend." Lincoln put down his glass of water and walked over to the phone. "It's about me being the father of her child and not having any power." He picked up the phone and started dialing. "I'll show you."

Michael just watched him skeptically.

Lincoln listened to the phone ringing and hoped Lisa would pick up. He was not going to spend the night in the dark if he could help it, and she was the only one he could think of right away. He knew Michael was looking at him like he was crazy, but he didn't care.

"Hello?" Lisa finally answered.

Lincoln heard crying in the background. "It's me."

"Lincoln, say it's Lincoln. Don't say 'it's me'. I hate that."

"Why is he crying?"

"Because I'm trying to give him a bath," she responded.

"He's four. Can't he—"

"That's right. He's only four, Lincoln. What are you calling me this time a night for?"

"It's only nine," Lincoln answered, not wanting to look at Michael as he said it. That was Michael's argument just earlier.

"Nine-thirty," she answered. "Late enough. I've got my hands full with him right now."

"I have a favor to ask. You can say no."

"Great way to start the conversation…"

He sensed her agitation. "Are you okay?"

"I had a rough day. LJ's in a tough mood right now. It's late." She sighed. "What do you need, Lincoln?"

"Okay, well," Lincoln began, "it's just that my neighborhood has a blackout…" He gave Michael a stern look as Michael raised his eyebrows. "And Mike and I are sitting in the dark here. He's got midterms tomorrow, and I gotta go to work… It's just… We have no power."

"Are you asking to spend the night here?" she asked slowly.

"Not if you don't want us to."

"Our place isn't big, Lincoln," Lisa said slowly. "I mean, I don't think it's a good idea."

"It's just one night," Lincoln persisted. "You won't even know we're around."

"LJ will. And he won't go to bed."

"What's one night?"

"Do you know what a four year old boy is like when he won't go to bed, Lincoln?"

"Sure I do. You forget I live with Michael." Lincoln smirked at Michael's glare because he had no idea what he was actually talking about.

"That's not funny," she persisted. "I'm serious."

"One night, Lisa, I swear." Lincoln paused. "I'll owe you one."

She sighed. He could tell she was indecisive, but Lisa was never good at saying no. That was the story of her life. "Fine, Lincoln. I mean, you're in the dark and all, so I can't really say no with a good conscience."

"We'll be over in like a half hour, okay? Thanks, Lisa, really."

"Yeah…"

Lincoln hung up the phone and smiled at Michael. "Okay, kiddo. Go grab some clothes for tomorrow. We're going to Lisa's."

"Now?

"No. At midnight… Yes now." Lincoln rolled his eyes. "Bring books or anything you need for tomorrow too."

"This feels awkward, Lincoln."

Lincoln pressed his lips together and shrugged. "Well…. I want lights. So. Let's go."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lincoln knocked on the apartment door and then turned to Michael, who looked tired and young with his sweatshirt and backpack. It felt much later than it actually was.

"Listen," Lincoln told his younger brother in a low voice. "It's a blackout. They didn't turn off our power."

Michael nodded.

Lincoln was insistent. "I mean it. If you say otherwise, I'll kick your ass."

"I won't," Michael agreed. "Don't forget to call Veronica."

"I can't call her from here."

"Why not?"

Before Lincoln could answer, the door opened. But Lisa didn't answer, a man did. He looked older, with longer, curly hair and dark eyes. He smiled and gestured them in.

"Come on in, guys," he said. "I'm Jesse, Lisa's boyfriend. She's just with LJ."

Michael glanced at Lincoln as he walked into the apartment, worried about Lincoln becoming jealous of this guy. Lincoln got very territorial, especially when it came to LJ, and Michael suddenly wished they hadn't come. Awkward was an understatement.

Lincoln's face was stony now, showing neither that he cared or otherwise. "How's it going, Jesse?"

"Good." Jesse shut the door behind them and locked it. "That sucks that you have a blackout. So random. You never know though, right?"

"Yeah," Lincoln agreed. Michael could telling he was sizing up the other guy.

"Daddy!"

They looked up to see the dark haired, four year old boy running down the hall excitedly towards Lincoln in nothing but his underwear. Lincoln bent down and pulled him up into his arms as the boy reached him.

"Wow, look at you," Lincoln laughed.

"Daddy, I'm so fast," LJ said, brown eyes wide. "Mommy said you're here all night. Like a sleepover?"

Lincoln pushed the boy's hair out of his eyes. "Your hair's all wet. Did you just get out of the bath?"

"Yes," LJ answered.

"So you're all clean then. Good. It's almost bedtime, huh?"

"No, Mommy said I can stay up a little more. 'Cause you're here."

Lincoln looked up as Lisa came down the hall, her blue shirt now dark blue in places where it was soaked through, wet from giving her son a bath. She had a tired, frustrated look on her face. "LJ, I told you—"

"Daddy's here!" LJ replied. "And Uncle Mike!"

Lisa sighed. "So they are. I see you guys met Jesse. C'mon inside." She started walking down the hall, passing the bathroom and walking into the main room where the TV was on with the news, and they followed her.

"I don't know where we're gonna put you guys," she persisted. "There's the couch, and… Yeah, the couch. Someone's on the floor, I guess."

"We'll be fine," Lincoln answered. He grinned at LJ. "Right, buddy?"

"Daddy, are we gonna play a game?" the boy asked.

"Maybe," Lincoln answered. "How about this?" He dipped the little boy down, shifting him in his grip until he was holding him upside down. LJ giggled gleefully.

"Lincoln," Lisa objected. She hated it when he held her son upside down. Or when he tossed him up in the air like a football. LJ loved it, but it made her heart skip a beat.

"What?" Lincoln asked innocently, holding LJ by his ankles.

"Can you put him down," she began, "and let me go get clothes on? Maybe you don't mind people running around half naked, but I do."

"He's not people. He's four." Lincoln pulled his son upright and set him down on the floor. "Okay, LJ. Mommy says you need clothes. Then we'll play."

"Okay," LJ agreed.

"I need to get you guys sheets and stuff too," Lisa began, watching LJ walk over to go grab a toy in the corner. "LJ, no, not now."

"I'll take him," Michael offered. "So you can get the other stuff."

"Really?" Lisa asked. "Okay. Hear that, LJ? Go with Uncle Mike."

LJ dropped his toy on the floor and looked up at Michael and his outreached hand. He walked over and held his hand agreeably. "Okay."

"I have his pajamas out for him in the bathroom, Michael," Lisa said. "Thank you. You're a saint. Lincoln, let's get you some sheets and stuff."

Lincoln watched Michael pick up LJ and walk out of the room down towards the bathroom. "Sorry about this, Lisa. I really appreciate it."

"It's not a problem," Lisa answered. "I just have LJ up later than I like to."

"Yeah, I know. I probably shouldn't have called, but you know…" Lincoln glanced over at Jesse, who was kind of just standing there, eyes on the television. "So, Jesse… What do you do?"

Jesse cleared his throat and looked at Lincoln. "Oh. I just work in marketing. Downtown."

"How's that going?"

Jesse just nodded. "You know, same old. I don't know. I'm not really in the part of the field I want to be in, but it's a stepping stone."

"Yeah." Lincoln suddenly realized Michael was right. This was going to be awkward.

In the bathroom, Michael was trying to pull a shirt over LJ's head but LJ kept trying to put his head through one of the sleeves. Michael wasn't sure how it was so difficult, but LJ had turned it into a game.

"We won't have time to play," Michael objected when LJ did it again, "if you don't put it on right."

"Are we going to play with Daddy?" LJ asked, only his hair visible through the hole in the shirt.

"Yeah," Michael answered.

"Can we do Kleenex again? With all the parts?"

"You mean K'Nex," Michael answered, knowing that LJ was talking about the construction game with all the pieces and parts to build models with. He finally pulled the shirt down over the kid's head, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Put your arms through."

LJ put his arms through the sleeves in the shirt. "Is it K'Nex?"

"Yeah."

LJ smiled. "Can you make the rollercoaster again?"

"Maybe. That takes a while though. Might be past our bedtime."

"Mommy said I can stay up though."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but how late? I'm already tired. It'll be past my bedtime."

"No. I'm not tired, Uncle Mike."

"Of course not. Here. Pants." Michael held out the pajama pants and watched LJ take them and sit down on the floor to pull them on. "We'll see what Daddy thinks, okay?"

"Okay."

"Daddy's tired too though," Michael persisted. "I bet your mom is too."

"No, Mommy and Jesse were going to watch a movie."

"Oh." Michael suddenly realized that he and Lincoln were probably interrupting a lot of their evening plans. That was kind of unfortunate. He wondered how Lincoln was doing inside with Lisa and the other man. "That's okay, we'll do something for a little while."

"Okay."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o