Disclaimer: I know they're not mine. I'm old and tired so, PTB, please don't slap me around for playing with your toys.
Last Time: Michael learned he was a father and Lincoln vowed to find a way to get him home to his family.
More than a week back home trying, failing each time, to come up with a way to bring him home, I was relieved to find myself alone for an evening. Having gotten nowhere, my brain was on overload, running one feeble scheme after another. I knew it was time to slow down and give it all a rest for a least this one night.
Some spicy take out under my belt, a double header about to hit the airwaves, I figured I'd put it all aside for a little while, park myself on the couch, relax as best I could and start fresh in the morning.
It was a good plan that fell flat the very moment I hit the cushions, feet up, remote control in hand, the doorbell rang.
I was certain it was Veronica, she knew something changed on my trip to Mexico and had been like a dog with a bone, riding me to talk to her about it. I peeked through the blinds on my way to the door, stopping my progress, frozen there, shocked, to fine a black sedan instead of V's car parked in my drive.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, each and every muscle in my body tenses, as the doorbell rings again accompanied by a firm knock and a voice I recognize easily through the closed door.
"Open the door... I need to speak to you, Mr. Burrows. "
Standing at the door leaning forward, allowing my head to rest against the smooth surface in frustration, his continuing to rap gently, I resign myself to the fact that as much as I've tried to find another way, the ability to bring Michael home lies in this man's hands and I have no choice but to hear him out.
Opening the door wide I reach out taking hold of the frame, wedging myself in the opening making his being here less than welcome as clear as possible.
"Just you? Where are your right and left? Isn't flying solo a little dangerous for man like yourself? What WILL people think?"
My best, well practiced, sarcasm - psychical intimidation falls flat as he looks me in the eye unflinching.
"They'll think, because it is important to my daughter, I've taken steps toward mending fences with the uncle of my grandchild. Which is exactly what Sara believes is my purpose for being here..."
"You told Sara you were coming here?"
He leans in, well practiced in his own right, with a sneer of defiance I know must have made many a politician quake in their shoes.
"Yes... I told her I was coming here tonight. Told her why. Do you want to be the one to tell her you slammed the door in my face or shall I, Lincoln? This will be a lot easier for everyone involved if you take a step back and allow me in to speak my piece."
The instant I step aside he moves quickly through the door down the short hall and into the room beyond as if he owns the place.
"Your son is out? We are alone ... can speak freely? "
Slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass insets in their frames, I follow the sound of his voice, nearly as pissed off that he's here as I am eager to get him the hell out the door.
"Yeah ... he's out ... not that its any of your business."
"We're alone. He won't be back for hours. I've got the place to myself, had a peaceful night planned that you most definitely don't figure into, so how about you say what you came to say and get the hell out."
Watching me careful he leans back half sitting half standing bracing himself against the back of the couch.
"You found him."
Opening my mouth to deny what I can tell by the look in his eyes he already knows to be truth, he lifts a hand to the air, stopping me before I can speak.
"Don't bother lying. I had you followed Lincoln. I know you found him, that you've been to see him and now thanks to you, I know exactly where to find him myself if need be."
I can't decide which is more appealing, beat the shit out of myself for being careless enough to be followed or wringing his goddamn neck for having his goons anywhere near my brother.
Wanting nothing more than to do both, putting every bit of strength I have in me into the task, blissfully releasing the tension I've had bottled up inside me since I left Mexico yet knowing far too much is riding on how I handle myself I fight the urge, standing still and silent waiting for what will come next.
"I have no intentions of harming your brother... "
While I say or do nothing I can see that the look on my face, body language, speaks loud and clear on my behalf as he stands quickly taking several tentative steps in reverse from me as he speaks.
"I have no desire to do anything that will give my daughter any reason to put him on a pedestal. Any harm that comes to him by my hand would tear her from me, binding her to him for good. I have and will go to great lengths to avoid that particular outcome. I've come here because I think its time we put into action what you and I discussed in the hospital the night Emma was born."
He continues, "Can I assume from my interaction with my daughter you've told her nothing of what we discussed that night ... that you haven't told her you found him? "
"No... I didn't tell her. "
I feel tired and beaten, so much so I ponder moving forward to reach and be able to slump against the sofa as I speak the words.
"Would I also be correct in assuming your main goal, more so now that you've seen him, is getting your brother safely home? "
"Yes."
Having moved back, a safe distance, just far enough, a good ten feet, he stops where he stands looking me over with pity, pleased with himself, confident he has the upperhand.
"Did you tell him he was father when you saw him? I hope that you did. Your brother, his past, his past behavior ... he doesn't strike me as the sort of man to turn his back on his obligations. He's aware that he's abandoned his child, Lincoln? "
I feel dizzy, sick to my stomach, and have to close my eyes, breathing slowly to keep myself from reaching across and tearing him apart with my bare hands.
"I told him."
"That's good ... very good! He needs to be properly motivated to allow you and I to help him help himself. We can move forward then... "
" ...I'd like to arrange for him to see her. "
I open my eyes slowly every other emotion suddenly lost in a sea of confusion.
"You want Michael to see Sara? I don't understand..."
"Seeing my daughter is incidental, hardly the point, I want him to see his child. He needs to have seen her ... held her in his arms ... understand what he stands to lose when you tell him what I'm offering. "
He takes a step toward me and as much as its against my nature to do it I can't help but back away.
"You haven't told him. I can tell you haven't. You don't want to tell him because you know what he'll do and you keep hoping there's some other way. But there is no other way to bring him home, Lincoln. You will do this because it's his choice and not yours."
Rage builds up in me so fast I, knowing threatening or worse yet hurting this man will undo any and all hope, I grab hold of the leather couch squeezing the material under my fingers, anchoring myself to gain control.
"Why would I do anything you ask when I have no proof that you actually have this 'recording' that will magically save my brothers life. I don't, WON'T do a damn thing without solid proof. "
He smiles, arrogant - the kind that makes me want to knock his teeth down his throat to hell with the fucking consequences, as he walks toward me.
"All taken care of... I told Sara I'd extend the olive branch tonight and if you were willing to hear me out I'd invite you to my home for dinner tomorrow evening where we'd bury the hatchet once and for all for hers and Emma's sakes. You'll come and I'll show you what you need to see. "
He walks past me toward the door pulling me reluctantly with him as he goes.
"Then... a couple weeks down the line - one big happy family - you'll take the two of them on a nice relaxing get away, after all this tension she'll be eager for a break... thrilled that I'd think she should include you, to somewhere just over the border where you'll have arranged for your brother to meet the three of you. "
"He'll see her. He'll see them both. He'll spend time with his daughter, come to want nothing more than to find a way ... any way ... to be a father to her at which point you'll sit him down and tell him what I have, what I'm offering and the one condition of my help "
Reaching for the doorknob he turns around looking me over with something like caring and compassion that serves only to make my skin crawl.
"I only want him out of Sara's life. You can have him back here safe and free. He can be there for her, watch his child grow up, but he can't have my daughter. "
His entire demeanor shifts, accustomed to the public eye - putting on just the right face, front, in case someone is watching, listening, the instant he opens the door.
"Good talk, Lincoln. I'm so relieved we had the chance, it was woefully past due. Sara will be so pleased. I look forward to continuing this tomorrow evening, don't forget 7pm, at my home..."
TBC...
Next time: Michael gets to see and hold his little girl for the very first time.