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

When it Rains, it Pours

By Lola Presents

Chapter 2

Lincoln remained in the hospital for two nights, coming home on the morning of the third day. The hospital staff told him that he was lucky to have landed in a nearby bush, which broke his fall. Otherwise, his condition may have been worse, or quite possibly, he may have been dead.

Part of him wished he had died. Not really, but he didn't get as much rest, or time for recovery, as he or the doctors hoped. The problem was his family. Sure, he loved them, but when an incident like this happened, they were always overdramatic.

They were pleasant at first, but he had to tell them to stop during their fifth visit in twenty-four hours. He understood, though, why L.J. didn't get this kind of attention. After all, she'd seen her time in medical care. Nevertheless, it was a bit overwhelming, especially since Lola made it a point to come along every time.

Lola had brought something every time she came. One time it was chocolate chip cookie, and another time it was brownies. She always handed them over somewhat reverently and full of pride, claiming that she and their dad had baked them from scratch. Of course, Lincoln surmised that their father did most of the work.

Still, they only visited twice the following day, going in shifts, and he was ready to get out of the sterile room. He began to miss the cacophony of their home. As it happened, several other patients on his floor were not as well off as he, and their constant moaning about needing help, food, or changes of linens eased his anxiety somewhat. It wasn't quite the same, though.

Lincoln alternated between watching the T.V. and wondering what became of the house. His mother had told him the roof had been torn from the home and had landed in the backyard. Furrowing his brow, he began to wonder if they would get things repaired by the time he was released. He couldn't picture trying to go to sleep at night, staring up into the stars. At least, that's how he imagined it.

He recalled very little, from both during the event and before. Yes, he remembered his family, how to walk and talk, but many of the details escaped him. For instance, when Lola brought him a copy of the latest Ace Savvy comic, he had no idea why. It wasn't that he already owned one, though he did. It was because he didn't know who Ace was.

His psychiatrist, who visited him since identifying his memory loss, said it was most likely a response to trauma and mild brain swelling and that his memory would return in time, but Lincoln wasn't sure. Being unable to recall things that should be familiar concerned him, and he wondered what else he had forgotten. Indeed, once he went home, something would come back to him. Right?

Around noon, just after lunch arrived on a small tray, his mother showed up to bring him home. Rita sat in the only chair in the room, a rather uncomfortable and stiff recliner, and chatted with Lincoln while he finished his food.

"So, what's going on at home?" Lincoln asked while trying his best to enjoy the dry meatloaf and broccoli. "Is the roof fixed yet?"

"They're working on it now, dear," replied Rita. "They have been since the morning after. Though, your father isn't making it easy."

Lincoln chuckled. "How so?"

"Oh, you know him," reminded his mother. "He's off trying to impress the carpenters with his manly know-how."

"And messing things up in doing so?" added Lincoln.

Eventually, a nurse came into the room with discharge papers and some prescription slips. Once Rita had read everything over, she signed the papers and was then verbally instructed on the medications and dosages by the nurse. Mother and son barely had a chance to restart their conversation when an orderly arrived with a wheelchair and a set of crutches.

"Do you need any assistance getting dressed?" asked the male orderly.

"Uh, maybe," Lincoln admitted, staring at his injured leg, held firmly in place by the case.

"Very well," the order acknowledged, taking the bag of clothes that Lola had brought from the small counter beside the bed.

"Hey, mom?" prompted Lincoln as he looked down at his loose gown and then back toward his mother, who took a moment to understand.

"Oh! Right. I'll be outside when you're ready," his mom announced before leaving.

The ride home was relatively nominal. They listened to the radio, made jokes about the family patriarch, and ran through Burpin' Burger so Lincoln could get some real food. As Lincoln was finishing his meal, they pulled into the driveway.

There was a large, idle crane in the front yard. Lincoln looked up and noticed the roof had once more been lifted into place and was crawling with construction workers, laying down more roofing tiles. He didn't see his father, though, and squinched his eyes for a better look. Nope. Dad wasn't up there. That was a good sign.

Much to his surprise, Lola was not the first one out. Instead, Lori came running up to the van just as Rita stepped out. She had a look of exasperation and fear on her face. Rita stared for a moment, then her heart sunk.

"What happened now?" the woman asked poignantly.

"Mom!" belted Lori. "It's dad. Come quick. He's nail two of his fingers together with a nail gun!"

"WHAT?" exclaimed Rita as she dashed inside. Lori began to run in after her but stopped in her tracks and looked back at Lincoln, limping toward the house. Figuring mom would know what to do, Lori walked back to her brother and walked beside him.

"So..." she asked. "How are you feeling?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Lincoln answered her.

"Well, that's good," Lori replied. "You're going to need to be in a good mood."

"Huh?" muttered the boy, advancing one awkward step. "What do you mean?"

Lori sighed and flopped her arms a bit by her side. "Lola has, well, she's cleaned and organized your room. I told her not to mess with your stuff, but she insisted you'd need a clear area to recover in."

"Geez, that's wonderful," grimaced Lincoln. "What's her issue anyway?"

"Oh, come on now," Lori said politely. "You saved her life. She's only trying to be grateful. Don't be too harsh on her."

"Yeah..." mumbled Lincoln. "I'll keep that in mind. Say, Lori, do you mind helping me up the stairs?"

"Sure thing, bro," responded Lori, smiling.

They entered the house just as Rita was ushering their father out the door. She had sterilized his hand and wrapped it in gauze, but he was still whimpering like a young child.

"Serves you right," Rita moaned. "I can't believe you did this. I told you not to fiddle with things, remember?"

"Just get me to the hospital before... before I..." was all Lynn said before collapsing in a heap. Rita rolled her eyes and then whistled for a couple of the workmen to assist her.

As Lori and Lincoln entered the home, everyone still present, except for Lola, came up to them, offering to make a comfy spot on the couch for him. Lincoln greeted them with open arms but politely refused. His intent was on inspecting the damage to his room.

The siblings watched as Lori assisted their brother up the stairs, then went about the day. On the other hand, Lori stood by Lincoln for support and to keep an eye on proceedings once they entered the room. She wasn't sure what to expect, though. With Lincoln having recall issues, she didn't know if he'd even realize anything had changed. Conversely, he could explode. Lori knew that thirteen-year-old boys enjoyed a particular amount of privacy and, well, clutter.

Lincoln opened his door, blinked his eyes, and looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. It was merely cleaner. But, there was something different. Other than Lola, sitting quietly on his bed with a smile on her face.

"Hi, Lincoln," Lola coed. "Do you like it?"

The boy looked around again, a more fervently this time. His sister had arranged his models into scenes upon their shelf. She also ordered his comics by number and put them into a slightly offset stack, making it easier to read the issue numbers. Still, there was something else. Something he couldn't put his finger on, and it was bothering him.

"Wow, you did a great job, Lola," he congratulated her.

Convinced there wouldn't be any fireworks, Lori smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her as Lincoln refamiliarized himself with his belongings. Taking a deep, relaxing breath, he remembered something.

"Hey, my room doesn't smell like moldy socks anymore. How'd you manage that?"

"I got rid of the moldy socks, silly," Lola explained, chuckling. "Oh, and I cleaned out from under your bed and changed your sheets too."

At this, Lincoln's face paled somewhat, having recalled something else.

Lola noticed his face whiten and walked over to him, then leaned into his ear and whispered, "The magazines with the naked ladies are still under the mattress. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." She then pecked him on the cheek and waltzed out of the room.

Lincoln stabilized himself on the crutches, felt his cheek gingerly with his hand, and looked at the empty doorway. "What just happened?" he asked himself. Lola had been annoying enough in the hospital. She was not acting like her usual self. Still, he was happy to be home and took comfort in the noise and commotion.

As the next few hours passed, Lincoln spent most of his time relaxing in his room, trying to refamiliarize himself. Slowly, things began to return, though not entirely. While he now remembered who Ace was, his adventures were foggy. And though he knew who Muscle Fish was, the poster on his wall lacked significance.

Lincoln had read somewhere that people who have memory loss may undergo a personality change, but he didn't want to change. He wasn't sure why, though. If someone couldn't remember being a certain way, what did it matter? Lincoln suspected that he did remember, at some level, and his subconscious was trying to remind him.

Every so often, one of his siblings would poke their head in to check if he needed anything. All except Lola, which made her behavior all the more bizarre. Lincoln was sure there was something amiss with his sister, and while part of him wanted to know what it was, the rest didn't. Eventually, however, Lola did show up, barging into his room as if she belonged there.

"Found it!" Lola beamed, strolling over to Lincoln and sitting on the bed.

"Uh, found what?" inquired Lincoln.

"This!" Lola chirped, holding up a small handbell. "You remember this, don't you? You used it to call on us back when you were the deciding vote on where to go for vacation."

Lincoln struggled for a moment, then reached out for the bell. Taking it hand, he gave it a ring. Something about the physical contact and hearing it sound gave rise to yet another lost memory.

"Oh! Yeah, I think I remember that now," he said with interest. "Why were you looking for it, anyway?"

"In case you need me, er, us," Lola replied. "Just ring that, and I, um, one of us, will be along."

Lincoln furrowed his brows. Lola's apparent fixation on paying him back for saving her needed to stop. It was not only becoming irritating but was just plain weird.

"Listen, Lola," he started explaining, "not that I don't appreciate everything, but I think it's a good idea if I try doing some things on my own. If that's alright."

Lola folded her hands in her lap and suddenly took a completely different tone than her current cheery one. "Don't try that with me, mister," she demanded. "I know perfectly well that the doctor told mom that you should stay off your leg for a few days before putting any weight on it. Now, what's it going to be; the bell or me staying in here to make sure you're alright?"

"The bell," resigned Lincoln with a heavy sigh and accepted the bell from her.

Not a moment passed before both siblings heard their mother's voice call from downstairs, "We're home! And, we brought dinner!"

Lincoln quickly placed the bell on his nightstand and grabbed his crutches. Had he not been so swift, he might have noticed a slight look of deflation on Lola's face.

Despite his enthusiasm for doing it by himself, Lola insisted on holding on to him for support as she led the way down the stairs and into the dining room. Of course, they were the last to arrive, which irritated Lincoln. Lola, however, seemed undisturbed, which again piqued Lincoln's curiosity.

Everyone was seated amongst a pile of pizza containers. The top boxes were already open, and people were handing out slices or eating ones they had already received. After seating her brother, Lola reached over, grabbed an unopen box, and sat it in front of them.

"Eat up, Lincoln!" Lola demanded as she snatched up a slice directly out of the box and began eating. "Thish onesh oursh!" she tried saying with a mouthful of pizza.

Lincoln had to admit, he was pretty hungry, and the pizza did look good, but why'd he have to get the seat beside Lola? "Oh, well. At least she cares," he thought before grabbing a slice and stuffing his mouth.

Despite the events of the past few days, dinner proceeded normally. There was banter and arguments, jokes, and spilled tea. Rita and Lynn sat at the head of the table, where the latter had difficulty eating with splints on his fingers. Their father's predicament alone was a source of material for Luan, who rifled her captive audience with bad puns. And now that Lincoln was home and feeling better, his cast was not out of bounds either. Eventually, the meal wound down, and Rita began clearing the table with marginal help from her husband.

"I'm sorry we got home so late, kids," apologized Rita as the kids began to rise. "We'll take care of cleaning up. You guys get ready for bed. It's been a long day."

While it wasn't that late, technically speaking, a family as large as theirs required certain adjustments to the schedule. There were thirteen members, eleven of which were kids. Well, make that ten. Lori was now nineteen and considered an adult.

The point is that if each person took ten minutes max in the bathroom, and you were last in line, you'd be waiting roughly two hours for your turn. Claiming an early spot is paramount, and if you left the line, you had to go to the back.

However, there are exceptions to all rules, and everyone agreed to allow Lincoln the first turn. As Lincoln was forbidden to get his cast wet, he didn't take a shower or bathe. Instead, he merely took care of business and headed off to his room.

It took a while for the boy to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. His leg was extra heavy and moving it was not easy with the added weight of the bedding, so he wanted to make sure he was comfortable enough not to shift much during the night.

He closed his eyes and began to drift away as the final sibling exited the bathroom. Lincoln was safe at home in his bed. He was warm and snug, and soon, he drifted off to sleep and began dreaming about being chased through the school halls by an unknown enemy.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

"rumble*

Eight tiny fingers wrapped their way above the covers, and Lola peeked out from under them. Worried, she glanced at the window. Through the curtains, she could make out the shadow of one of their backyard trees, waving its branches at her.

"rumble*

Soon, the sound of light rain began tinkling on the roof, and Lola's heart started pounding. "Not again..." she murmured.

*CA-RACK!*

"Lincoln?" Lola called quietly, panting from her unscheduled run. "Lincoln? Are you awake?"

The entity had Lincoln cornered. His back was to the wall, and he braced his arms against some nearby lockers. Sweating profusely, Lincoln closed his eyes and awaited his demise. Then suddenly, he heard his sister calling from somewhere behind the entity. No longer sensing the ominous being, he cracked one eye.

"Lola?" he mumbled as he rose to consciousness. "What's going on?"

"It's raining," she said fearfully. "May I sleep in here tonight?"

Lincoln looked at the little round window in his room and turned back to his sister. "Lola, it's only a drizzle. You'll be fine."

"Please? I'm terrified," she continued pleading. "And you did say you'd be there for me."

Lincoln rolled his eyes in the darkened room but threw the covers back and scooched over, regardless. Patting the mattress, he invited her in, "Oh, okay. Come on."

Lola smiled and rolled into bed, nuzzling up to her brother, and then pulled the covers up to her eyeballs. Once Lincoln had settled into comfort once more, he instinctively wrapped his arm around her. Just as suddenly, he came to his senses and removed his arm.

"No," whispered Lola. "Put it back, please?"

Lincoln complied, though his better judgment told him not to. It was, after all, his duty to look out for his sisters. He wrapped his arm back around her, and the two of them lay there on their sides. Her back was unusually warm, and her belly soft. And, without thinking about it, Lincoln pulled her closer into the curvature of his body.

"Just one night," he thought.