Back in Room 208A, Lincoln was lying face first on his bed, crying into his pillow. He knew what was going on and that his family, or at least just his father, would be in even more serious trouble, particularly with the local police. Lyra did not leave Lincoln's side. Poor Lincoln, she thought, a tear in her own eye. She gently started rubbing Lincoln's back in a back-and-forth motion.
"Lincoln..." she sighed. After about five minutes, Lincoln managed to sit up and the two sat on the bed together, the poor white-haired boy still sobbing and hugging himself. Lyra wrapped her arms around him and began rocking him very slightly back and forth, like a mother would. They stayed there for what felt like hours. The very next day, Lincoln was down in the dumps, his depression coming back to him in full force. Lyra decided to talk to both the receptionist as well as the current manager on duty, apparently agreeing to a proposition.
"Thank you so much," said Lyra to the manager. "I promise I'll take good care of him." She returned to Lincoln's room and sat down on his bed next to him, putting her arm around him and holding him close.
"All this... because of me..." he choked, although he seemed to be out of tears. Lyra sighed, feeling sorry for the white-haired boy.
"Lincoln," she said. Lincoln looked up at her. "Would you like to come to my place... this afternoon?" Lincoln blinked and although he had no words to respond with, a small smile etched itself onto his face, which seemed to answer Lyra's offer.
Lyra led Lincoln into her one-story home for the first time. Lincoln looked around in amazement over how clean and tidy the place was, though it was probably to be expected since she lived by herself. Most of the interior color was white while the floor was a wooden shade of brown.
"Wow..." he said. "What a nice place. It's so clean."
"You come from a large family," said Lyra. "So I guess you must be used to the occasional chaos at your place."
"Except it's been a while since I've been at my house," said Lincoln. After Lincoln had a quick tour, they sat at a kitchen table and drank some tea. "Whew... this is hitting the spot!" said Lincoln, impressed.
"You wanna know what I put in it?" Lyra asked. Lincoln nodded. "Love," she simply said, rubbing Lincoln's hand. "Sometimes, it's a powerful ingredient."
"Aw, man," said Lincoln, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "I'm gonna get all sentimental again. If I hadn't met you, I'd be afraid of losing my manliness right about now." Lyra just had to laugh at that.
"'Manliness' is only a point of view, I should think," said Lyra. "A person's gender should have no boundaries. It's important that we all learn to accept each other for who we are. Not every place in the world is like that."
"I don't think you've even seen all my interests or even half the things I like," said Lincoln.
"Oh, I suspect I will in time. The more I get to know you, that is."
"You'd be okay with that?"
"As long as the things you do are not in way of the things you have to do, I'll happily accept them as part of your life," said Lyra. They finished their tea. "Would you like to sit out on the porch with me?" Lyra asked, to which Lincoln nodded. Moments later, they sat on a sofa big enough for two people out on the house's porch. The fresh air and small breeze was quite a feeling of bliss to the white-haired boy, realizing these little things in life were far too precious to pass up on. He cozied up to Lyra, who had one arm around him. "You know," she spoke softly, getting his attention. "The day we met, I wondered if I would ever get to know you properly. Something about you just drew me in and I've worked with my fair share of kids. I'm glad we were able to have a moment like this... side by side. There's no doubt in my mind... you're the closest person I have to a son." She kissed his forehead. "Lincoln... I love you." Lincoln blushed, but he knew that Lyra loved him way more like her own son, in case her words weren't that obvious. He could tell that their relationship amounted to nothing more than a mother-son connection. He started to think that maybe if anything happened to his family, or anything between him and them for that matter, he'd run to her. A little later on, Lincoln had dozed off, his head resting on Lyra's lap as she gently stroked his white hair. It was a pleasant afternoon for the both of them. After Lincoln's nap, his eyes opened, but his head still laid on Lyra's lap and he sighed sadly.
"Lyra..." he murmured. "I'm scared."
"I know you are," Lyra said soothingly, gently moving her hand across his head. "You've been through a lot, I can tell."
"The trial is tomorrow... right?"
"Mm-hmm."
"I wonder... maybe..." Lincoln sat up. He knew what he was about to say and he felt it necessary. He sighed. "I want to see my family... before the trial."
"Lincoln?" said Lyra.
"I want to see them. And they want to see me. It's the least I can do. I can't leave them in anguish." Lyra then understood.
"Ah... You want to provide closure, maybe bring them to peace with themselves," she said. Lincoln nodded.
"You sure you want to do this?" said Officer Schoffner, as Lincoln and Lyra stood before the Loud residence. Lincoln nodded.
"Something tells me... I have to do this," he said.
"You're a brave boy," said Schoffner. "We'll be standing by just in case." And as Lyra took her first steps into the Loud house, for Lincoln it was first steps in quite a while, since the day he was brought to the hospital.