Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino.

When it Rains, it Pours

By Lola Presents

Chapter 1

"There are times when things don't go as expected, cause distress, or go against social conscience. It is in these times that we find ourselves. Who we become depends not on what happens to us, for those moments are in the past. Instead, it is how we choose to react that defines us." ~ LolaPresents

Lincoln survived his first year of middle school, and it was now summer. Spring had blessed the foliage with freshly grown leaves, and the breeze was warm and pleasant. He sighed to himself as he walked home from Clyde's house, enjoying the day.

"Man, nothing could ruin a day like this," he thought as he skipped over every other break in the sidewalk.

He was wrong, terribly wrong.

Roughly halfway home, the wind began to pick up, and dark clouds wafted overhead, but Lincoln didn't realize it immediately. It wasn't until the first drops of rain began to dampen his hair that he took notice. After gazing up at the incoming storm, he increased his gait and made for home.

By the time Lincoln climbed the stairs to the front porch, he was soaking wet. He took the steps one at a time, his feet sloshing within his shoes, but paid it little mind as getting inside was of more import at the moment. Without making any attempt to dry himself, he quickly entered the house.

Fully expecting the family to be going about their usual business, watching tv, or arguing, Lincoln came to the stark realization that something was wrong. One by one, his sisters were being ushered through the dining room, the kitchen, and into the basement.

"That's it. Quickly but orderly, now," Rita instructed them before eyeing Lincoln. "Oh! There you are. Please do me a favor. Fetch Lola from the attic, please. The weather channel has issued a tornado watch, and we need to get everyone downstairs. And be quick about it."

The Loud family had weathered tornados before, and Lincoln didn't expect this one to be any different. As such, he didn't feel any sense of urgency. The only thing that struck him as odd was Lola being in the attic. That's the last place he'd expect her to be. However, he didn't question his mother and set about his assigned task.

The young man bolted upstairs, or sloshed as the case may be, and began climbing the pull-down stairs leading to the attic. When he clambered into the dark, dusty space, he called out for his bratty little sister, whom he couldn't see immediately. "It figures that Lola would be the cause of a delay," he muttered.

"Lola!" he inquired before noticing the glow of a flashlight near the end of the loft. Turning in Lola's direction, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled over the din of the storm, "Hey! There's a tornado headed this way! We need to get to the basement!"

"A what?!" exclaimed the girl in pink as she withdrew her upper half from an old, musty trunk. "Hang on; I need to grab these..."

*boom*

Thunder cracked loudly, startling the crap out of both of them. Lola fell backward onto her rear while Lincoln tripped over his shoelace, which had come loose in his haste to return home. He landed belly down on the boards that lay across the rafters, much to his discomfort. He tried to upright himself but discovered the lace had become tangled in the attic stairwell springs.

In his building freneticism, he jerked his leg several times, trying to dislodge himself. Unfortunately, he pulled too hard, and the folding stairs collapsed and returned to their upright position, leaving them trapped in the bleak attic.

"Great!" complained Lola as she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Now, what are we going to do?"

Lincoln had often helped his siblings out in their times of need, but this was completely different, more immediate, and concerning than merely tutoring Lynn with homework or becoming a human pincushion for Leni. Now that the springs had eaten his shoelace and became irrevocably jammed, he saw no way to escape their confinement.

Furthermore, for all her bravado, Lola was still a child. She was sure to be frightened beyond her wits, and it was up to Lincoln to navigate the situation and see them through the storm. Lincoln was well aware of how old the house was and its deteriorating condition, which stirred his anxieties, allowing doubt to creep in.

"Listen, Lola, everything's going to be alright," he said, steeling himself against his fears, as well as hers. "All we have to do is stay together and away from the outer walls, okay?"

"Okay..." Lola quivered, trying desperately to hide her trepidation.

"Good," Lincoln praised her. The boy kicked off his soaked and tangled footwear and rose. In times like these, redirecting one's attention worked wonders at bolstering one's composure. "Now, let's get some of these boxes and crates and make a little castle, alright?" he continued, thinking of a way to make the event playful for his little sister. "That should give us some protection, and who knows, we may even have some fun while we're at it. How does that sound?"

Lola said not a word but nodded, then leaped from the chair and began scooting everything she could find to the center of the attic, where Lincoln started crafting the most tightly packed barrier he could make out of the crates and rubbish. However, he doubted it would hold up against a tornado. Lincoln wasn't about to let Lola see his doubt, however, and grinned as he worked.

Together, they finished just as the wind began stirring outside. The roar increased quickly and soon became overwhelming, even for Lincoln. With past storms, they had always made it safely to the cellar and were never this close to the event, and it terrified them both, more than anything Lucy or Luan had ever done to them.

With no forethought, the siblings wrapped their arms around each other and clung for dear life. Lola didn't care that her brother was sopping wet or that he could have had a better choice in hand placement upon her body. Likewise, Lincoln didn't mind that, due to the dampness of his clothes, Lola's glitter was sticking to him or that she was crushing his windpipe.

"I'm scared, Lincoln!" she called, barely audible over the din. "Please, don't let go!"

"I won't!" Lincoln responded even though it was hard to do so with Lola constricting his neck. "I'll always be here for you!"

Before either could do anything further, they heard a resounding crunch tear across the length of the house, followed by the wind bearing down upon them as the roof slid a few feet, then tilted upward and disappeared entirely. Instinctively, Lincoln wrapped one arm firmly around Lola's waist, and with the other, he held tight to the large, heavy chest containing Aunt Harriet's belongings.

The gusts picked up various loose items and spirited them into the sky, and though the trunk was heavy enough to weigh them down, it wasn't enough to stay them completely. The wind gained momentum slowly at first but grew increasingly faster and louder as the moments went on, and the pair found themselves sliding toward the edge of the house.

Together, they began pushing against the floorboards, trying to halt their movement. Their efforts were in vain, however. The wind was much too strong and swept them along until they reached the precipice. For a moment, the heavy container lingered at the edge of the house. Then, suddenly, it slid forward on a growing pool of water, and it turned sideways, throwing them off balance.

Lola went sailing over the edge feet first, and Lincoln's hand slipped from her midriff to her arms, then to her hand. He stared down with utter terror on his face as his little sister dangled two stories away from injury or even death.

"LINCOLN!" cried Lola as loud as she could.

It was a guttural, primal scream, one that gave Lincoln the resolve to go beyond his limits. Then, without knowing precisely where the strength came from, he swung Lola back up onto the ledge, but not before his footing loosened. Scrambling, he tried to latch onto the crate once more but failed, his fingers clawing at the crate's handle to no avail. Then, just as he imagined it would be like in space, Lincoln suddenly felt weightless as he fell backward off the house.

Lola stared in terror as she watched her only brother disappear from view, just as the wind began to decline. She lay there breathless for several moments before coming to her senses. Had she just witnessed someone, no, not someone, her brother, die?

"Oh, GOD!" she cried, leaning back on her elbows and staring into the slowly clearing sky. "PLEASE LET HIM BE OKAY!"

Lola was confident that her brother was dead. There was no other possible outcome. Forlorn, she collapsed to her back and sobbed for a few moments, covering her eyes with her palms, before hearing her family yelling from below. She couldn't tell exactly where the voices were coming from, though. It didn't matter anyway. Lola was too lost in regrets to even think about it.

"Someone call 9-1-1!" shouted Lynn, Senior. "Lincoln's hurt!"

"On it!" shouted Lori over the commotion between their siblings.

"LOLA!" called out Rita, desperate to find her daughter. "WHERE ARE YOU!" CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

As physically drained as she was, Lola rolled over and crept over to the side of the house.

"I'm up here, Mommy!" Lola called out. "I'm okay! Is Lincoln alright?" she inquired, still sobbing and fearful of the worst.

"I think it's just a broken leg!" yelled Lola's father. "And maybe a concussion. Stay put! I'll send L.J. to get you!"

"Alright, Daddy!" Lola yelled back before pulling herself away from the edge and curling into the fetal position.

It took Lynn a few moments, but she eventually pulled the stairwell loose and opened it. A brilliant light, which she wasn't expecting, greeted her. After her eyes adjusted, she climbed the rungs to the top and looked around at the devastation. She saw Lola balled up a few yards away but no roof. There wasn't much of anything left, period. A few tunks lay scattered about, but that was it. Unsure about the safety of the flooring, Lynn cautiously made her way to her sister and scooped her up.

"Come on, Lola," Lynn said with authority, "let's get you downstairs and cleaned up."

The ambulance arrived not long after Lynn placed Lola on the family sofa, and despite having just been through an ordeal, she hopped up and ran outside. Every muscle in her body ached, and she was sure she had multiple scratches, but none of that mattered. Instead, what meant the most to her at that moment was seeing Lincoln.

Lola rounded the corner of the house as the paramedics began Lincoln's triage. At one point, one of them produced a device she didn't recognize, and her hands went to her mouth, fearful that something was wrong. At first, Lola kept her distance, not wanting to hear bad news. But after a few moments, she could no longer stand the uncertainty and raced to Lincoln's side.

"What's wrong?" belted the little girl. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Well, hey there," one of the medics replied. "Your brother is going to be fine. He's suffered a blow to the head and broke his femur, but nothing too serious."

"Can I talk to him?" Lola pleaded. "I have to hear it from him!"

"I'm sorry," the emergency responder told her as the two of them stood and raised the mobile gurney. "He's going to spend the night at the hospital for observation, but if everything goes alright, he could be home soon."

Once more, Lola could do nothing but watch as her brother disappeared, this time into the ambulance. And though she knew the circumstances were different this time, it consoled her little, and she began weeping without abandon.

"This was all my fault," she bellowed as Rita lifted her daughter up and into her arms.

"No, honey," Rita informed her daughter, stroking Lola's wet, tangled hair. "It wasn't anyone's fault. Sometimes things happen. Now, chin up, alright? Lincoln will be fine. Wait and see."

Lola collapsed into her mother's embrace, no longer having the will to support herself, and cried as the family headed back into the house. Before the medics left, they advised the family not to come to the hospital for at least an hour. It would take at least that long to get Lincoln through proper triage and into an examination room to treat his injuries, during which time the family would not see him.

Heeding the advice, the remaining family decided to take stock of the damage and grab something to eat while they waited. Lola, of course, did not want to wait, but there was little she could do. Her little pink jeep would never make it that far, even if she had fully charged the battery. So, she reluctantly nibbled at some cheese crackers until her tears ebbed instead.

"What were you doing in the attic in the first place?" asked Lola's father, taking a seat next to her on the couch.

"I was looking for some of my old costumes," Lola explained, still sniffling. "Our class is going to put on a play, and I thought I'd donate some of them."

"I see," nodded Lynn, Senior. "But, honey, you know you aren't allowed up there alone. Despite the storm, those old floorboards are not up to snuff."

"I know..." Lola responded sadly, hanging her head solemnly. "I'm sorry..."

"What happened anyway?" Lola's father asked. "We sent Lincoln to get you. Why didn't you come down?"

"I'm not sure, really," Lola blubbered. "Something happened, and the stairs folded up and got stuck. But Lincoln protected me. He built a fort around us. Only, it wasn't strong enough. Then, the roof tore off, and the wind sent me over the side. Lincoln grabbed me and pulled me up and fell instead."

"Well, as long as you're both okay," her father declared, pulling Lola into a hug. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost either of you, let alone both."

"Yeah..." murmured Lola.

Lynn kept talking, saying something about heroic actions and lessons learned, but Lola blocked them out. She had turned inward and had become lost in her thoughts as the reality that she almost lost her brother congealed inside her brain. Lola had always been rather self-absorbed and, to be blunt, a bitch. But now, the only thing she could think about was her brother.

Lincoln had told her, "I'll always be there for you," just before everything got crazy, and he had. Lincoln had been there for her, even at the cost of his safety. Still unaware of what her father was going on about, her eyes began tearing up once more. She recalled all the times she'd taken Lincoln for granted or used him against his will, only to dismiss him afterward without so much as thanking him, and suddenly she understood why everyone called her stuck-up at school.

Then, just as suddenly, she realized something else. If Lincoln were to keep his promise, he couldn't die. It wasn't possible. While not entirely accurate, that was how the logic of a seven-year-old worked. Regardless, her mood began to shift, and she wiped the tears from her face.

"Thank you, Daddy," she said, not wanting him to know that she hadn't heard a word, "your talks always cheer me up. Now, shouldn't we get ready to go to see Lincoln?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose you're right," he said, looking at his watch. "It has been a while, so I suspect they have assigned him a room by now. And, don't worry, kiddo. L.J.'s had more broken bones and bumps than one. He'll be fine."

Once everyone had eaten, changed clothes, and Lola had packed a small bag for Lincoln, they piled into the old van that still sat in their driveway, unaffected by the storm, and headed off into town. Commotion filled the van on the way there, most proclaimed intent to sign his cast and placed bets on who would do so first. On the other hand, Lynn, Junior, couldn't wait to congratulate him on his new battle scar.

Everyone was in awe at what Lincoln had done and repeatedly gasped as Lola recounted the event over and over, each time becoming increasingly more dramatic. By the time they pulled into the hospital parking deck, one would've thought Lincoln had just saved all the tenants of a burning building.

Together, they entered the lobby, and Rita got Lincoln's room number from the woman at the desk. Then, they all piled into an elevator, much to the dismay of a few people who wouldn't fit.

"Sorry, we're all together," Lynn explained as the doors closed. "You understand. Right?"

They did not understand, as Lynn hadn't explained anything whatsoever. Still, they stepped back and let the family ascend. Stopping at the fourth floor, the family filed out into the waiting room, and the receptionist's eyes enlarged.

"Hey, Rhonda," she whispered to another woman behind her. "It's the Loud's again. I wonder what Lynn did this time?"

"Oh! It's not her," Rhonda replied, gazing at her terminal. "It's their son this time; a broken leg and concussion."

"Ten dollars says Lynn is responsible," the receptionist chuckled.

"That's horrible, Marge," Rhonda gasped. "Now, wipe that smirk off your face. Here they come."

Marge managed to regain her composure as Rita approached the desk, though she still looked as if she had just done something naughty.

"Hi, Marge," Rita greeted the receptionist. "We're here to see Lincoln. May we go back?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Marge replied. "But, you know the rules. If things get rowdy, you'll have to leave or go in smaller groups."

Rita grimaced. "Of course," she said before ushering her family down the hall and following after them. "Now, this is Lincoln's first time here, unlike Lynn, so let's all be on our best behavior and not embarrass him. Alright?"

"You got it, Mom!" encouraged Luna.

"I see dead people," stated Lucy.

"Uh, what?" asked Leni as she strolled along beside the goth.

"Nevermind," Lucy said. "I was seeing if you were paying attention."

"I'm still not sure," added Luan. "Do you think Leni has enough to PAY attention?"

Everyone giggled and guffawed.

"Gee, I don't know," responded Leni, stopping to check her purse.

That's when the outright hilarity began, sending echoes throughout the hall.

"See?" Rita scolded. "That's what I'm talking about; Knock it off."

"Fine," complained Luan, "but we're here, so why don't YOU try knocking on the door instead."

*knock-knock*

"Lincoln, honey," Rita called out. "It's us. May we come in?"

"Yeah, come on in..." came a weak voice from within.

Rita opened the door and walked in, followed by her husband and the rest of her children. Lincoln lay there with a clunky cast on his leg and a bandage wrapped around his head.

"Hi, guys," he said with very little breath behind it. "Is Lola alright?"

Upon seeing Lincoln and hearing his voice, Lola burst from the assemblage and ran to his side, hugging him gently but firmly.

"Oh, thank God," she cried. "I was so worried! I never meant for any of this to happen, and I'm sorry for being so mean to you over the years. That's going to change. Starting now, I'll always be there for you. I promise! I'll never leave your side!"

"Um..." muttered Lincoln, somewhat confused. "Okay..."