Last time: ( #7 ) T bag offers to deliver LJ safely to Lincoln in exchange for Michael.
" Six Days from Today "
He's there, in the half darkness filling the room behind me, so quiet, not a single word from his lips, even so without turning I feel him there, feel his eyes on us watching every move I make as I stand at the open door hashing out the details of what needs to be done with the last person on earth I'd ever imagined entrusting my son to.
Our negotiations are completed with an eerie assurance that he ' won't lay a hand on the boy' as long as I make sure Michael, he tosses a lewd gesture in Michael's direction a nasty accompaniment to the guarantee making his point very clear, holds up our end of the deal.
Then without another word he turns and leaves.
With the click of the door's latch I hear him exhale hard, as if he'd hadn't drawn breath since the moment he first layed eyes on the man.
Standing there with my back to him, thinking, of the man the man I've just sent away, of the one behind me, my brother, my family, and of my only child caught between the two; I can't help the feeling of complete helplessness that begins spreading through my entire body.
He takes a deep breath, waiting, considering, preparing to say something.
I've never known what it is, but there's something in him, almost psychic, that enables him to read me.
Something in the way he pays attention to posture, body language, whatever it is that that makes it possible for him to sort out the truth, easily filtering it through all the layers hiding what's real, whatever it is that makes him understand, without a word, exactly what needs to be said... " He won't hurt him."
My back still to him, stomach churning from all that has just been
set in motion, I let down my guard and ask him, this one time, for the comfort
and reassurance I spent our childhood trying to give him.
" Tell me you're right, Michael? "
So calm. His voice is firm, strong, seemingly confident as he whispers. " I am. "
I wait a moment, wishing it were so, wondering if he believes what
he's saying before turning to see his face, looking into those eyes for a
measure of comfort, for any assurance, that he truly believes what he says.
Knowing my fears well and sensing the need to believe he meets my eye,
his confident gaze unwavering as he speaks. " I can't tell you how I know
but I can tell he means what he says, Linc."
At a loss for clues as to if he really is all that confident or just saying what needs to be said to keep me calm. I'm left with little choice but to accept his words," He won't lay a hand on LJ. ", and let I it go.
Clinging to what I can, swiftly switching gears because I can't allow my mind to linger on LJ with T Bag for too long, I deal with what is right in front of me. " And what about you, Michael?"
Harboring little or no hope of reaching him now that I've headed into territory I know he has no intention of discussing I cross the room, watching him carefully every step of the way as if he may bolt rather than allow me to the broach this particular subject, and challenge him by refusing to back down " I asked you a question. What about you?"
As I close the distance, standing near, almost hovering, he does his best to ignore me, the subject, by turning away and busing himself with rounding up the ruffled pillows on either end of the couch and piling them atop one another to one end.
" Michael! Answer me?"
He turns to face me with anger and frustration bubbling just under the surface, at being cornered, . " I can handle him! "
With that he turns away again grabbing hold of the afghan draped over the back of the couch, shaking it open as he plops himself down, his head resting on the pillows, long legs dangling over one end covering himself defensively while rolling away.
He tries to sound certain tries to convince me nothing further need be said on the subject but something inside me knows its more likely he's picking and choosing his words carefully, hoping to set my mind at ease and hide the fact that what he's really saying is; he can, and will, take whatever T Bag has planned for him to save my son.
" Tell me you didn't mean what you said." I stand over him waiting and when no reaction is to be had I reach down shoving his shoulder hard causing his body to rock forward pushing his face into the back of the far too small for his stature sofa " You do realize there are other ways? I won't allow you to trade yourself to that maniac, Michael."
He turns his head to me, the angry tone of his words taking me back to a childhood of
watching him defiantly refusing to do what I asked any time I dared to push him
with my superior age and physical strength.
" I've got this. You worry about getting yourself and LJ out of the country
and leave T Bag to me."
He looks me dead in the eye, staring me down, doing his all he can to make it clear this particular conversation is at an end by reaching over, switching off the light on table next to him and hiding himself away in what quickly becomes near total darkness as he mumbles what he believes are the final words on the subject. "I'll do what I have to do."
Knowing he expects me to take that and walk, but being disinclined
to do what he thinks I should, when I know he's trying to shut me out,
I move away, take a seat, and wait for the inevitable.
The waiting doesn't take long.
With the sound of my taking a seat, settling comfortably into the chair across from his impromptu bed, his seeing what he's up against, he valiantly continues his argument. " Everything I've done..." He looks up studing the ceiling above to avoid having to look me in the eye. "We haven't come this far to fail now."
Not sure what I can say I opt for saying nothing and lean back in my chair propping my feet on the coffee table between us.
Realizing that as much as he may hope otherwise, I have no intention letting it go, he turns over watching me, a showdown playing out quietly without a single word.
Sitting there together in the dark feeling him pull away, into himself, I can't help wondering who he might have been without the people he loves.
Ironic that for most people imagining a life without the ones we love is painful.
A bad thing.
But Michael's not like other people.
For Michael, caring brings pain, scars, and irreparable damage to the man he should have been.
Most people are better for loving.
Michael, far too often, is broken by it.
He has no way of knowing what's running though my mind, so, obviously
growing tired of the strained uncomfortable silence hanging between
us, he speaks up and asks for the only thing he thinks he needs to hear.
"What's the plan?"
Worrying, feeling bad, and wishing there was a way his life could have stayed separate from my own, I fail to notice him move to sit up and face me.
When I do realize he's there, I look to him and see compassion dulling the anger in his eyes as he tells me... ' Try not to worry. LJ is going to be okay.' The words make me feel like I've taken a hit to stomach, every ounce of air knocked from my lungs, utterly shocked at the notion that he assumes my drifting away is all about me an my own, without a single thought of what will happen to him.
I should talk to him.
Tell him I do worry about him.
Tell him there's nothing I wouldn't do to take his place.
But I don't. I sit there listening quietly as he goes about fixing everyone and everything, except himself, just like he's always done. " T Bag's right. Everyone is waiting for you or I to try and get to LJ. We wouldn't get within a 100ft of him without getting caught and you know it. No one is expecting him. He'll get to him and he'll bring him to you. I promise."
With that we are left in the dark, sitting there, facing one another,
both of us understanding in our own way, for completely different reasons,
that all the things that go without saying outweigh anything we could say to
one another right now.
With a heavy sigh, both of us clearly thinking the same thing, he tells
me exactly what I was verge of suggesting to him.
" You should try to get some sleep."
Knowing how unlikely sleep is but understanding there is nothing more to be done at the moment and his plea is possibly more about being left alone and less about either of us getting any rest, I stand and start for the bedroom.
Listening for his footsteps behind, fully expecting him to do the same, the quiet and lack of movement in the room pushes me to turn just in time to see him shift his body down, stretching out on the sofa, clearly intending to say where he is.
" Hey! You should do the same you know?"
He looks to the closed door, her door, across the room and then back to me. " I will. But here, okay."
Still lying down he leans up a bit bracing his chin on his hand to look me in the eye. " I don't want her to know anything about this."
He maintains eye contact, firm, stern, and even in the dim light
I can see very clearly how serious is he is about what he saying.
" I mean it. There's nothing I won't do for you or LJ. I think you know that.
Now, I need you to do this one thing for me."
While I can see there is no way he should or can keep this from her
I also see no good in arguing the point with him at the moment either.
With that, further discussion on the subject clearly not an option,
he rolls over leaving his back to me as he tells me, in no uncertain terms.
" I'll handle her!"
Seeing that we're getting nowhere, clearly done for the night, I head
off to my room, stopping only a second in the door to leave him with the
answer to the question he'd asked.
" The plan? We'll talk about it, later, when you're ready to listen.
For now... Vegas six days from today."