Lincoln gave the screen door of his dilapidated bungalow a tug and cursed to himself when the damn door refused to budge. He readjusted the large rolls of drafting paper tucked under his arm and slid the bag of other supplies onto his wrist so he could use both hands. He yanked the door this time with both hands and not only did it open, but fell of it's hinges and Lincoln had to drop everything in his arms in order to prevent the damn thing from crashing down on top of him.
"God dammit!" He hollered, kicking the bag at his feet so that all the pencils, rulers and other assorted crap Michael had requested spilled out onto the worn and weathered porch.
"You alright?" Lincoln looked up and saw Michael standing in the entryway looking mildly concerned.
Lincoln chuckled, his hands still firmly grasping the rusting door.
"I think we need a new door."
Michael laughed.
"Ya think?"
"Apparently, I don't know my own strength." Lincoln joked, hurling the door over the railing and onto the sorry excuse for a front lawn.
"Oh yeah. You're a real He-Man." Michael replied, bending down to pick up the supplies scattered at Lincoln's feet. "Did you get everything?"
"I don't know." Lincoln whined, picking up the drafting paper and stepping into the house. "That place gave me a headache man. Who the hell knew there were so many different types of pencils and lead and…"
"I knew. That's why I wrote down for you exactly what I needed." Michael reminded him.
"I know, but what the hell? Why can't you just use the good old number two pencil like the rest of the world?"
"Because Lincoln…" Michael began in a seriously snooty tone that Lincoln hadn't been subject to in years but oddly enough he kind of missed. "…different leads, draw different lines. Different lines represent different things."
Michael began digging through the bag of supplies to pull out examples as Lincoln folded his arms across his chest and smiled.
"You see, the real hard lead draws a much softer line. That's good for a light layout and it's easy to erase. Now your softer lead…" Michael continued, tossing the previous lead back into the bag and pulling out another. "…your softer lead will draw a much thicker, darker line. That's for drawing things like walls."
Lincoln chuckled and rolled his eyes as he brushed past Michael on his way into the kitchen.
"Why did I even ask?" He wondered aloud. "And if it was so important, maybe you should have gone to the store and found all this stuff."
He was joking, but no sooner had the words left his mouth, did Lincoln instantly regret it. The smile fell from Michael's face and he hung head shamefully, as he began dropping the supplies back into his bag.
"Hey Mikey. I'm just kidding." Lincoln insisted.
"I know. It's fine. Don't worry about it." Michael replied, not very convincingly as he made his way into the kitchen.
Lincoln sighed. It was a stupid thing to say and he could've kicked himself for not realizing that before he opened his mouth. Two months had passed since his release, but Michael was still very much reluctant to venture out in public. That fear of recognition and public resentment was still very much an issue for him and as hard as Lincoln, LJ and Amber tried, they couldn't seem to help him get over it.
Lincoln set the rolls of paper on the countertop in the kitchen, where Michael had already laid out the existing plans for the house, and made his way toward the refrigerator.
"I've been going over the existing plans and I've come up with a few ideas." Michael informed him as though nothing had happened.
"Yeah?" Lincoln replied half-heartedly. As badly as he wanted to share in Michael's enthusiasm for the project, the situation a few moments earlier only reinforced the fact that his little brother still had major problems.
"Yeah." Michael replied smiling. "There's plenty of room to expand off the back here and increase the living space…maybe add a few bedrooms."
"Uh huh." Lincoln mumbled, grabbing a beer from the otherwise empty refrigerator.
Michael paused, clearly sensing his brother's lack of interest in what he was saying, but he pressed on anyway.
"Well, I figured we will need a room for Veronica."
"You're right. We will." Lincoln replied robotically as he took a swig of beer.
Giving up, Michael tossed his pencil down onto the counter and turned to face his brother.
"What?"
"What?" Lincoln parroted back with a shrug.
"Did I piss you off or something?" Michael asked him.
Lincoln gave his brother a meek smile and set his beer down on the countertop.
"No Michael. You didn't piss me off."
"Then what is it?" Michael demanded to know. "Clearly something is bugging you."
Lincoln thought about this for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, he decided honestly was the best approach.
"I'm worried about you Michael. That's all. I'm not pissed…I'm just worried." He said calmly.
"Linc…" Michael moaned, turning his back to him.
"I'm serious Michael. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending like everything is fine when you and I both know…" He paused and took Michael by the arm and forced him to turn around. "…you're not."
"You know…I was having a good time. Why do you insist on ruining that!" Michael spat back angrily.
"Why is talking to me such a god damn challenge for you!" Lincoln fired back.
"Never mind." Michael groaned and began to walk away.
"I can't do this again Michael." Lincoln said.
Michael stopped and turned back to face his brother.
"Do what?" he asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
"I ignored your problems once and it nearly destroyed you. I'm not going to make that mistake again." he informed him, shaking his head. "I won't do it."
FLASHBACK 1991
"Lincoln wake up."
Lincoln groaned in protest as he stretched out on the sofa and opened his eyes to find Lisa standing over him, looking annoyed.
"What do you want Lisa?" He snapped at her. "Can't you see I'm sleeping here?"
"No, I hadn't noticed." she shot back sarcastically.
"Well that's surprising." Lincoln growled at her as he rolled back over and closed his eyes. "Since you're the one who banished me from the bedroom."
"I'm serious Lincoln…get up!" Lisa barked, kicking him lightly in the back with her foot.
"What!" Lincoln exclaimed, bolting upright and punching the side of the couch with his fist. "What do you want?"
"I want you to go talk to your brother."
Lincoln frowned and looked over at the digital clock on the VCR. It was 11:45.
"Now? It's almost midnight."
Lisa let out a manic chuckle.
"Yes. It is. Lovely of you to notice. It is almost midnight. And it is a school night. And yes Michael is still awake."
"So give the kid a break." Lincoln replied, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. "He's got exams coming up."
"I don't care!" Lisa shot back angrily. "The kid hasn't slept in days. I just went in to check on him and he's working on the same damn thing he was working on when I checked on him two hours ago!"
"So."
"So that's not like him Lincoln. Something is not right. And I want you to find out what it is."
"He's fine. Just go to bed." Lincoln moaned, falling back onto the couch.
"He's not fine Lincoln. And if you weren't stoned so much maybe you'd notice."
"Oh…don't start."
"I will start!"
Lisa plopped herself down on a small portion of the couch that was taken up by Lincoln's enormous frame and tugged on his arm once again.
"Please Lincoln. I am so worried about him. Ever since that fight at school and the social worker started poking around he's been so…I don't know. Stressed?"
"We're all stressed." Lincoln replied, not opening his eyes.
"Yeah…I know." Lisa replied. "But it's more than that. He's been agitated, unfocussed…twitchy. I touched him tonight at dinner and it was like wanted to crawl right out of his skin."
"So don't touch him."
"And he gets this look in his eyes." Lisa continued, ignoring Lincoln's remark. "It's like he's not even there."
"Fine! Fine!" Lincoln exclaimed. "I will talk to him."
Lisa sighed with relief.
"Thank you."
"In the morning." Lincoln clarified.
Lisa opened her mouth to object, but Lincoln quickly cut her off.
"In the morning." He reiterated. "If I try and talk to him now, you know we'll only end up fighting and that will only wake up LJ and probably half the building."
He reached out and gently placed his hand on her arm.
"I'll talk to him in the morning. I promise. Just go to bed."
Lisa frowned and looked away, still concerned.
"Look, he's gonna fall asleep sooner or later and if it happens to be sitting at that damn desk than so be it. He'll be fine." He promised her.
Lisa pulled her arm free from Lincoln's grasp and pushed herself up off the couch.
"First thing in the morning." She said sternly, pointing at him with her finger. "I'm waking you up."
"Can't wait." Lincoln replied sarcastically, falling back onto the couch. "Do me a favor and hit the light on your way out."
Lincoln could hear Lisa muttering under her breath as the light went out and she made her way to their bedroom. He ignored her as he pulled the worn blanket from the couch up over his shoulder, buried his face into the cushion of the musty sofa, and quickly fell back to sleep.
It was almost two when Lincoln was awoken again. This time from a loud thumping noise resonating throughout the apartment. Quickly tossing the blanket off himself, Lincoln sat up and glanced toward the front door. He thought perhaps there was someone at the door, but as the noise continued, he realized it was coming from the other end of the apartment.
"What the…?" he mumbled to himself as he got up from the couch and made his way across the dark room. He was about halfway across the room when he tripped over one of LJ's toys on the floor, twisting his ankle. Cursing loudly, he hobbled the remaining few steps to the hallway and flicked on the light just as Lisa opened the bedroom door and stepped out.
"Lincoln?" she said, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light. "What is that noise?"
"How the hell should I know." He snapped at her as he limped down the hall. "It sounds like it's coming from Michael's room."
"He's still up?" Lisa replied.
"I swear to God." Lincoln fumed, shaking his head. "I'm gonna kill that kid."
"I told you to make him go to bed hours ago." Lisa reminded him as she leaned against the door frame.
"Shut the fuck up." Lincoln ordered as he limped past her.
"Well, maybe next time you'll listen to me."
"Michael! What the hell?" Lincoln hollered as he twisted the doorknob of Michael's door and swung it open. "It's two o'clock in the…"
Lincoln's jaw dropped and he froze when the door opened and he saw his brother inside. He had assumed Michael was bouncing a baseball off the wall…something he often did when he was bored. But when the door opened he was horrified to find Michael sitting on the floor, repeatedly banging his head against the wall.
"Oh my God! Michael!" Lincoln cried out and rushed into the room.
"What? What's wrong?" Lisa asked, rushing after him.
Lincoln fell onto his knees beside his brother and quickly grabbed Michael by the shoulders to stop him.
"Oh my god!" Lincoln sobbed. "What are doing Michael? What the hell are you doing?"
Michael slumped into his brother's arm and Lincoln gently brushed his shaking hand across the already large lump that had formed on the side of his brother's forehead. Michael's eyes were opened, but unfocused as he mumbled incoherently in Lincoln's arms.
"Michael!" Lisa screamed, rushing into the room and dropping to her knees beside Lincoln. "What did he do? What's happening!"
"Call 911!" Lincoln ordered her, pulling Michael close to his chest and rocking him gently.
"Shhh…buddy. It's OK. It's going to be OK." He tried to soothe his brother.
"Oh baby…"Lisa sobbed, reaching out for him. "What did you do?"
"Lisa! Go! Now!" Lincoln hollered at her.
Lisa jumped up off the floor and dashed out of the room. Lincoln could hear the sheer terror in her voice all the way from the living room as she pleaded with the 911 operator to send help.
"I'm sorry Michael." He sobbed as he continued to rock little brother's limp body in his arms. "I'm so sorry. Please be OK. Please. Please."
PRESENT
"You almost died that night Michael. I know you don't remember, but I do. It was one of the worst nights of my life and I won't let it happen again. I won't."
"I'm not a little kid anymore Linc." Michael replied calmly. "You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself."
"Can you?" Lincoln shot back quickly, reaching out and taking Michael by the arm.
Michael glanced down as Lincoln rubbed his thumb back and forth across Michael's forearm, which, although currently covered by the ever present long sleeve t-shirt Michael always wore, they both knew bore the scars of Michael's last attempt to take care of his own problems.
Michael pulled his arm away.
"I told you I won't do that again. I promised you that." Michael reminded him. "Why can't you just trust me?"
"It has nothing to do with trust Michael. After all we've been through, how can you possibly think I don't trust you?"
"Then why are we having this conversation?"
Lincoln brought his hands to his head in frustration as he tried to remain calm. He took a deep breath and dropped his hands back to his side before continuing.
"Listen Mike…I do trust you. But I also know you. I know what happens when you bottle things up like you've been doing for the past few months. You've got to let it out."
Michael said nothing but began pacing the room nervously. It was an uncomfortable silence, but Lincoln said nothing. At least Michael wasn't hollering at him or worse, running from the room.
But when it became evident that this standoff with Michael could go on all day, Lincoln finally blurted out the one thing he knew was bothering them both.
"You were raped Michael."
Michael froze in place with his back to Lincoln and he balled his fists tightly by his side. Lincoln quickly moved to get in front of him.
"There, I said it." He exclaimed, grabbing Michael by both arms. "I should have said it a long time ago. But I was too damn afraid. I thought if we didn't talk about it, everything would be fine. I thought maybe if we didn't talk about it, we could both pretend it didn't happen. But it did. That was selfish of me Michael and I'm sorry."
Michael shook his head and but kept his eyes on the floor.
"Can you look at me Michael? Please!" Lincoln begged.
Michael took a deep breath and raised his head. His eyes were filling with unshed tears.
"You don't have to be sorry Linc." Michael insisted shaking his head. "It's not your fault."
"Whose fault is it Michael?" Lincoln countered, his own tears now streaming down his face. "Certainly not yours. You wouldn't have been in that damn place if it weren't for me."
"I made my own decisions Linc and I hurt a lot of people. I deserved to be in there." Michael insisted.
"No you didn't." Lincoln shot back, pulling Michael forward and wrapping his arms around him tightly. "You're a good person Michael. You've always been."
For the first time in months, Michael didn't fight his brother. He reciprocated Lincoln's affection and hugged him back. It was turning point for the brothers and both men began sobbing.
"I just want things to go back to the way they were." Michael cried into his brother's shoulder. "Before Fox River…"
"I know." Lincoln replied, tightening his grip. "Believe me I know. But you can't focus on the past Michael. That's only going to drive you crazy."
"Too late!" Michael laughed, releasing his grip on Lincoln and using the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe the tears from his eyes.
Lincoln laughed as well, as he used his t-shirt wipe away the tears his own tears.
"No it's not." He said optimistically. "We're going to start over Michael. We just got to take it one day at a time."
To be Continued…