Disclaimer: Prison Break and its characters are not mine. I'm just taking them out for a little spin.
Coffee, donuts and the understanding that I would stay with the two of them, led to a day long silent road trip to where ever the next in a steadily growing chain of, 'cash money ask no questions' motels happened to be.
I thought once we got to our room we'd have the chance to talk it out.
I was wrong!.
After a much needed shower I'd barely had time to slip into jeans and a sweater before I hear a knock coming from the room next door.
The gentle rapping distracts me for an instant and I can't help thinking how strange it is that the smallest things, like always having adjoining rooms with a door between to allow an additional way out, can suddenly stop me in my tracks and remind me I'm actually living my life on the run.
" Sara, its me. "
The knock and his voice are both so gentle and hesitant
it takes me by surprise. " Can I talk to you a minute? "
I'm surprised and yet somehow I'm not.
I'd read the file. Knew what he 'had' done and of the crime he claimed to be innocent of committing, but the man himself turned out to be much different that the tale of the tape would lead one to believe.
From what I could see Lincoln Burrows was a kind and generous man, well aware of his shortcomings, and doing his best to live with a lifetime of regrets that anyone who got close enough could see hung heavy around his neck.
At first I was awed by what Michael had sacrificed for his brother. Thought it exceptional.
But over our time together, listening to Lincoln talk about his son, I've come to understand that all of this, clearing his name, is not simply about saving his life but is actually just as much about saving his name and also his son's future in the process.
Amazing men, both of them, willing do anything it takes to protect the people they love and yet neither one of them able to entertain the possibility that anyone, other then each other, would be willing to do the same for them.
" I heard him leave... "
I open the door to find him leaning against the door frame,
left arm outstretched with two bottles of beer dangling from
between his thick fingers " I thought we could have a little talk?"
With a smile, because there is a rough charm to the man
that never fails, I gesture to him to enter.
I step aside allowing him into the room.
Reminding me of the sheer size of the man, as if
I could forget, me moves the bottles to his right hand, palming
the base of both easily in one hand, pops the caps and
holds them out waiting for me to take one.
" If this is the kind of talk that requires a drink I'm thinking maybe I'd rather not." Expecting him to laugh off my concern I find myself quickly alarmed by what needs to be said, when instead of making light he quietly hands me the bottle, takes a long swig from his own and deposits himself in a tacky avocado green armchair under the window with a heavy sigh.
" You do realize he's pissed at himself and not you? "
Not sure what to say I choose to say nothing, take
a seat on the bed, and watch him curiously as he pulls back
the equally tacky drapes for a peek outdoors.
" Is he coming back?"
He drops the drape back in place and focuses his attention
on the bottle in his hand rather than me as he speaks.
" No! He's got a good couple hours of walking around
kicking himself lined up. I imagine it'll be a long while
before he comes back."
Not sure where the conversation is going, or how we'll get
there, I opt for following his lead and take a long drink of the cool,
but not quite as cold as it should be, beer, before asking
to hear what I'm not sure I want to know?
" Why on God's earth would he be so angry with himself that
he'd have to walk out of here and roam the streets for hours on
end instead of talking to me about it?"
Still sipping the beer, slower now, he doesn't answer me right away.
Instead he reaches out to pull the other chair around apparently intending to
use it as a makeshift footrest but not quite succeeding.
I watch him shuffle it around trying to get it right until I eventually
become frustrated waiting.
" Linc! Answer me. "
" Because he shouldn't have taken you with him."
Frustrated to be back in the same rut I'd thought
we'd left behind that morning I take a long drink,
ponder the problem, and seeing no other options
back track into all too familiar territory.
" We have been through this, you know?."
Again I'm left waiting for a response.
Watching, waiting and becoming increasingly annoyed with
his choosing to ignore me in favor of busing himself with the
suddenly all important task of separating label from bottle.
" I decided to be there that night! I didn't leave him any choice."
My voice grows louder and more insistent with each word,
" My father... who I am... the protection taking me offered all
of you!" Until eventually my words pull him away.
He turns to look at me dropping the shredded bits of paper to the floor as he speaks. " Excuses! While there is some truth in all those things the real truth is we should have left you in the infirmary that night and he knows it."
He pulls his feet from the chair planting them hard to
the floor as he swivels his seat around to face me.
" The catch here is that's not the reason Michael's
out there kicking himself. What's really eating him up,
is less about making the wrong choice, and a whole
hell of a lot more about his making it for selfish reasons."
I sit there quietly listening, hearing what he's telling me, and knowing there is no way he can know that the things I'd learned about his brother make it possible for me to truly understand what it is he's try to tell me.
" This is a big deal! Michael doesn't do things based on what he wants, Sara. But this time ... you... I'm convinced that night he decided to take you with us... he did it because he didn't want to lose you."
He looks around the room for a moment seemingly lost in
thought, tips the bottle draining away the last before depositing
it firmly on a nearby table.
"I'm afraid for him. He was so willing to throw everything away
to save me. "
He hesitates looking right at me, allowing me to see the fear
and worry that's written all over his face.
"I'm afraid when this over there won't be anything
left to make Michael want to save himself."
He stands looking down slowly brushing the last scraps of shredded paper off his clothing. "He saved my life."
His task completed, he lifts his face to meet my eyes.
" Until now, until you came into his life,
I was lost for a way to make him want to save his own."
He looks away, surveying the room and massaging his chin in thought
while searching for the right words.
"Let him storm out. Let him roam the streets kicking himself for getting
you into this, Sara. He can argue and stand his ground on any excuse he wants
because the truth is you made him want something for himself..."
He smiles at me. " ... and that right there is the best shot I have at returning the favor and saving my little brother's life."
He starts toward the door but stops before he can pass me by.
Not wanting his intentions to be misunderstood he gently and
and tentatively reaches out placing his hand reassuringly
on my shoulder. " He's got a good twelve to twenty four hours of
brooding left in him so the chances you'll get him to talk when he
does come back are slim to none. You should get some sleep."
I try to shake off the suggestion but he'll hear none of it. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for him. An eye on both of you."
His tone is firm and unwavering making it clear that the man before me, like his brother, will do what it takes to insure my safety. "I'm right next door if you need me. You rest!"
With a nod of exhausted agreement from me he turns and heads back through the door to his room.
" Lincoln! " He stops, a puzzled look on his face, standing halfway though the open door. Not sure how to express what it is I want to say I cross to him quickly, plant a soft kiss on the cheek of his bewildered face, and say what's in my heart: " Thank You."