standard disclaimer
There had always been something special about trips in the car with Lincoln. I don't think we ever left the city, and the cars were never anything to look at. But not just anybody rode in a car with Lincoln Burrows. Most anybody who knew Lincoln knew that you shouldn't mess with his stuff or his people. And the way he said you were his people was when you rode in his car. I always rode in his car.
When I realized one of us was going to have to set the bomb off manually I threw up a little. There's already so much that might go wrong, and even if the rest of the plan works, this Fed is making me nervous.
When Linc started down toward the car there was a little tremble in my hands. Blowing up cuts of packaged meat is all well and good, waiting to see if you're going to blow up your brother is not. But he was determined.
It wasn't until we were climbing up the incline that I realized something great had happened though. In the last twenty-four hours a miracle had occurred that lifted a bit of my burden. My brother was back. Prison and his impending death had taken something from my brother, and even before all of this there was a tentativeness in Lincoln when I saw him. During those years we drifted apart my brother had seemed a lesser man. Not the same guy that everyone in our neighborhood had walked around and not the guy who left cranes by my bed.
When Nika pulled up with our ride I breathed a sigh of relief. For all the planning I had done, I was still nervous about the steps that included other people. And there were ties to Nika, making her both safer and more dangerous to rely on.
When I took the keys I made a decision. There was a stability now in Linc that I had missed for so long. Today, even if only for a little while I was going to be little Mike Scofield driving around in his brother's ride. Mike was always safe when his brother was there.
It was wonderful when I finally catalogued the changes in my brother. He'd laughed. Not smirked, not chuckled, not even smiled. My brother laughed. I don't know if I'd heard him really laugh in years. And I laughed with him. What really struck me though were his words. "It's my turn." I should have argued. What good would escape be if Linc was ground chuck. But I heard it in his voice. I saw it in his shoulders. He needed to stand between me and danger. To risk something for me. But more than that, I saw his strength return and I knew that if we were going to die this was the brother I wanted to die with. The brother who knew how to love with his actions even if he never gave himself enough credit. The brother who took pride in standing between me and danger.
When I looked into Nika's eyes I understood something. It was dangerous to love. Nika and I never spent much time together. The business of escape and the promise of money mostly. But I could see the affection in her eyes, and hear what was almost accusation in her voice when she asked about Sara. The pain I'd been feeling intensified and for a brief moment I wanted everything to stop.
When I looked at Lincoln I felt foolish. And I thought about what love had done to him. Me, Veronica, LJ. It was odd how we had all been millstones around his neck for all of our lives and yet he still loved us. I knew his grief over Veronica was far from over, but he was focused. Driven. Love hadn't destroyed him. It made him stronger.
Driving down the road I closed my eyes and inhaled. A faint scent of cayenne pepper drifted over to me and I remembered. One thing that Linc had always valued when we were growing up had been food. When mom was alive would add anything to his food to make it hotter. I tried it a few times, but never really understood the draw until Lincoln started cooking himself. What my mom made became spicier with the peppers and sauces Linc loved, but what he made was born for it. When there were no other things to smile about, somehow Lincoln always managed a real meal once a week. He wasn't always there to eat it, but there was always on night when I would have to drink a half gallon of water just to survive the two helpings of whatever concoction of his was for dinner. Two helpings because for all the pain, it was still some of the best food I've ever had.
When we dropped Nika off I sighed with resignation. Just like Sara I was out of her life. And just like Sara I had no way of protecting her from any of the potential consequences. Maybe this was how Lincoln felt when he first saw me in the Fox River chapel. It's a strangely helpless feeling when you know that you've changed the course of someone's life.
When I double checked our next step I understood a fear. If changing someone's life and walking away was nerve-wracking. Being responsible for their every step was nauseating. I wondered then, not for the first time, what it must have been like for Linc to take responsibility not just for my upkeep, but also for my welfare.
Fiddling with the cell phone in my pocket I remembered the call from Lincoln I didn't take that night. And then I remembered the dozen's of calls I made to him when I was little. Remembered everytime when he dropped everything to make the little things happen for me. And I felt ashamed.
"Hey!" Lincoln caught my attention. "Whatever you're thinking, stop. We're in this together like we've always been. If you're going to worry I'm damn well going to do it with you. So spill or get over yourself."
A couple of seconds passed. "Hey, Mike. We're going to get through this. What you've done–"
I looked at Lincoln and saw all the things I always wanted to be. "What you've done Linc. What you've done." And then I closed my eyes.
It was good to be little Michael Scofield driving in his brother's ride.