Lincoln

I normally hate being woken up so early in the morning, but this morning was an exception. Hey. I get to meet my niece that's been dead for twelve years, get to watch her shoot hoops for a little bit (which she's particularly good at; she could beat the crap out of me, though I'd never say that to anyone).

She shoots with such a confidence that isn't arrogant, but isn't a subtle confidence either. It's so smooth.

I sit by the window, partially because it's cooler outside than it is in here, and partially because I want to watch Faith and Mike shoot around.

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I must have fallen asleep, because when I wake up at 6:30 to the sound of music and footsteps, I know that someone's already up. Great. No way I'm going back to sleep now.

I go downstairs to find Faith (who I almost already forgot about) pouring herself a bowl of cereal next to Michael. "What are you doing up? You realize that normal people aren't up at 6:30 on a Saturday?" She puts the milk nonchalantly back in the fridge and laughs. "Yes, Lincoln, I know. I'm going for a run, care to join me? Michael's already in," she says. Wait. She called him Michael. "Call me dad, it sounds better," Michael corrects, which Faith seems okay with. I guess she just wanted the go-ahead from Michael before she jumped to the title of "Dad". She shrugs and grabs a spoon.

I'm pretty sure Michael is running with her because he's nervous that we're too close to the snake pit. If you're following me.

Faith finishes her bowl of cereal, Michael finished his egg, and they're off to run. Faith's going to kick his butt.

I see the Saturday paper sitting on the coffee table, so I decide to check it out when the front page story catches my eye.

THREE OF THE FOX RIVER EIGHT HAVE RESURFACED

On Friday, May 19th, Fernando Sucre and brothers Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows were seen back at Fox River State Penitentiary. They were supposedly on a field trip with their children, but the authorities of the closed prison are starting to speculate otherwise. Some new details of the escape have come out, and now the federal agents are starting to have other theories about how the escape really happened.

Michael Scofield decided to have a tell-all session in the Prison Industries building, revealing all the escape details and how he was so evasive to the law enforcement efforts. This story can be found on our website, as it was caught on a security camera and then transcribed.

A new controversial detail has resurfaced, that in fact Scofield and the doctor (Sara Tancredi) were married. Some research has been done, and the famed couple have indeed been married for twelve years.

It was also discovered that Sara was married to another man, Jacob Ness, and divorced him five years ago upon Michael's second return from the dead. Ness is currently incarcerated in Ohio State Penitentiary. They have one child, Michael Scofield Jr.

Lincoln Burrows has a child, Lincoln Burrows Jr., and a wife, Veronica Donovan, who ironically served as his brother Michael's and his lawyer for their troubles nearly two decades ago.

I'm fuming. No; that doesn't do a justice. That doesn't suffice the boiling anger I feel coursing through my veins. Sara's our of bed, already dressed and ready for the day, and she's walking into the living room. "Where are Michael and Faith?" She knows that Mike is still asleep, and she probably knows that I've been up long enough to know. "They went for a run. Just like I'm going to do," I say, fuming, crushing the newspaper in my hand. "And, before I leave, read this and tell me what you think," I suggest. She takes the crumpled newspaper from me, reading the front page article. "Linc... why?" Sara's sadness dissolves part of my anger. Sara, who's been through enough crap for four people, about to be broken again by our family. "Hey, I'm going to go fix it," I say, giving her a hug. She's crying now, because Michael probably told her about the trip yesterday and how hard it was. She hugs me back, and she goes from 100 percent respect from me to 1,000 percent right then. "I'll go with you," Sara says, and I nod. I grab my keys and Sara follows me to sit in the passenger seat. I open the door and see paparazzi swarming Michael's house. "Or maybe we won't," I decide, blanching a few shades and leaning my back on the door. Sara looks out the small window in the door to see the crowd of cameras in the driveway. "Agreed."

I send Michael a text telling him to come in through the back door, and he sends back a thumbs up with three dots behind it, which means he doesn't get why.

•••

I decide to play the prank of the century on Michael. And I know exactly how to do it.

Simple supplies; shaving cream, toothpaste, his wallet, water.

I find his wallet on the countertop, which is really easy and obvious. Jeez. At least put it away. Only a few more steps.

I grab the empty ice cream tub from the counter where he left his keys beside (not sure why) and put his wallet and keys in the tub. He has a small loop on his wallet and key ring, so I take a skewer and tape it to the bottom of the bowl. I tape the loops of the keys and wallet onto the skewer, then rub toothpaste on his credit card.

After I fill the ice cream tub with water, I put it in the freezer and hope that they're gone for at least three hours. When Sara and Mike wake up, I'll tell them so that they don't open the freezer on accident.

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My hopes came true. Michael decided to show her some of the cooler places in Chicago; they walked to The Bean, around the neighborhood, in the park. He bought ice cream after their run (Michael was only able to make it 3/4 of a mile. Faith ran 2).

"Has anyone seen my wallet?" Michael apparently needs it close to noon to "get something for lunch". "And, while we're at it, my keys?" Mike, Sara, and I all stifle laughs. Faith is completely emotionless, even though she knows about the prank. She's good. "No, the last time I saw it was when you put it on the counter," Mike says, acting bored. "Well, I need my credit card from my wallet to go get lunch," Michael says, beginning to look around the kitchen. I was able to take the frozen wallet and keys out of the ice cream container and put the container back on the counter, then rub the shaving cream/toothpaste mixture over the solid block of ice. That way his hands will get messy, because I taped a chunk of foil inside the kitchen faucet to prevent water from coming out. So then he can't rinse the toothpaste/shaving cream off of the ice before he waits for it to thaw. The ingenuity I have when I want to!

There was a movie that came out 2 years ago in 2020 that we took Mike to see called Frozen 2. I haven't watched it since, because I can't stand Disney. So I decide to make a joke out of it.

"Seriously. Where is my wallet?" I laugh. "It's frozen," I say, and he still doesn't get it. "Where are my keys?" Michael still doesn't get it. "They're frozen too!" He looks at me and, after a few seconds, gets it and laughs. "But seriously. Where are they?" He doesn't think I was being honest. "I told you," I reply, trying to stay straight-faced.

He walks to the freezer door and takes the big chunk of shaving cream/toothpaste covered ice and puts it in the sink. "Ha. I saw that," he says, pulling the foil out of the faucet with such ease. Dang it.

He rinses the ice block off, then puts it in a bowl inside the microwave. Why didn't I think to mess something up with anything that makes heat? Like, I probably would've gone for the hairdryer anyway. Even if the microwave did work.

He's too smart for pranks. I throw my hands in the air and give up. "Nice try, Linc!" Michael always makes sure to yell after me when I walk away in frustration from a foiled prank. Every time.

Faith follows me into my sulk fest, because I'm sure she has a better way. "You could've at least taken the mesh out of the sink and shoved the foil in," she suggests. I look at her like, Why do I care about this now? She ignores me. "And then unscrewed the bottom plate of the microwave and..." I smile at her and she realizes. "You're so two-faced," she says. I laugh and leave the room, and it's then that I realize that she doesn't have a room. She stayed up all last night. "Faith... do you want the guest room? I'm leaving today anyway," I offer. She looks at me, wondering something. "Okay. I'm not the dumb one of the family, what do you want to ask?" She studies me with a smile and then sighs. "Either you can read emotions well or I just have a good poker face. Because no, I don't have anything to ask. I just have to ask Michael and Sara..." I give her a glance of disapproval. "Fine. Mom and... Dad. It just sounds so wrong coming out of my mouth. I feel like that weird relative at Christmas that no one's sure how they're related. I went to Kellerman's family Christmas. Turns out, he has half a heart..." I look at her and try to suppress a laugh, but it's not working and I laugh.

Faith is allowed to have the guest room, and Sara's going to go with her today and tomorrow to do some clothes shopping, school shopping, and shopping to decorate her room. I hate shopping. Don't ever ask me for fashion advice, because to me, "fashion" means that you're wearing clothes. When I go shopping with someone, they always say that I "complain too much" and am "too annoying". I'm sorry, Veronica, if I hadn't eaten anything all day and we were still in Macy's at 8:30 at night... You know what. That's a rant for another time.

I'm packing up when I realize that Vee's going to be home today, and I haven't told her what happened. She'll never believe me. I settle for shooting her a text.

Hey, Vee, I have a surprise for you when you get home...

I'm already home :)

Crap. I was kind of hoping that she wasn't there yet so I could catch the end of the Bulls game. I'll probably be spending the rest of the afternoon watching Stranger Things. If you don't hear from me for a long time, that's why.

"Hey, Michael, come here for a sec," I yell into the kitchen. Mike and Faith went outside, and Sara was cleaning up their room. "Did you look at the paper yet?" He looks confused, so I toss him the paper across the living room. He catches it and starts reading. "Of course they did," he says sarcastically, throwing the article in the trash. "You know what? Good time for me to leave," I say, clapping Michael on the back and going out the back door.

I'll ask Michael to text me a picture of Faith later, because they're going to the park today. Vee won't believe her eyes.

I'm in my gray Mustang, driving home with the radio cranked probably way too high. I'm taking weird turns so none of the paparazzi will follow me, even though Vee and I live five minutes from Michael and Sara, which is nice because Mike (and now Faith) can come and stay whenever they want. And vice versa. It's a lot of fun, because I normally pump Mike full of sugar and pizza and then send him home. But that's not necessarily bad; Michael did the same thing for LJ when he was younger, so it's just returning the favor. That's what I tell myself to justify it.

I'm pulling in the driveway, and I see LJ's red Camaro in the garage. He wasn't supposed to come home this weekend! He won't believe me either.

Hey Michael, can you send me a picture of Faith later???

Sent an image

Wow... that was fast. They must have taken a selfie or something. I open the photo and it's not Faith at all. It's the old picture of Michael and I studying (Michael studying, me eating Doritos and getting it on his textbooks) where I had cheese dust all over my white shirt, face, and hands while I'm asleep. I hate that picture.

Okay, for real this time...

Sent an image

Thanks. I still hate that picture.

The picture is actually real this time, and it's a good selfie of the entire family.

"Vee, LJ, you'll never believe this. Look," I say with the picture on my phone. "Who is that? Has it really been that long since I've been around that they've adopted a child?" Sometimes LJ worries me. He was here last week.

"Look. She's standing between Michael and Mike, and she looks just like Mike, but leans more toward Michael than Mike. So if I'm getting this... that's the twin?" Veronica put that together so fast, I barely had time to breathe. "Yeah. She showed up at two in the morning, running from where she had been kidnapped. She lived with Paul and Gretchen for eleven years, then with the General in the Company hangar learning to fly planes for a year. It's... it's really her," I explain. LJ just looks excited, but Vee looks both excited and concerned. "Will they chase her?" Vee is asking the questions that make sense, but I'm not sure that I'm going to have all the answers yet. "Faith was pretty confident that they weren't going to chase her because Paul and Gretchen were going to release her today anyway," I reply, trying to give them some answers. Dead people make my brain hurt.

It's confusing, all the deaths and resurrections in our family. Michael twice, Sara, and now Faith. I don't have the brain capacity for all the details and events, so I settle for the shortened versions of them. I'm not smart enough.

I'm still indebted to Michael for my life. He ruined his life just to save mine, and put himself at a risk so incredible, no one in their right mind would place themselves in the spot he did just for me. I owe Michael and Sara my life. Literally.

"Well, where are they? Can we go see her?" LJ has a certain hopefulness in his eyes that a dad can't say no to; I think he uses it to get what he wants, which I, personally, think is smart on his part.

"Uh, I think they're going to the park later and getting stuff for school and her room, but they might still be home," I tell LJ, and he silently pumps his fist in excitement.

I'm back in my car, driving back to Michael and Sara's. LJ's excited, though he's not used to sitting in the backseat.

His wife Michelle would have liked to come too, but she has the flu (and I hate the flu. I hate a lot of things).

Within five minutes, I'm back in their driveway; I'm starting to think of Michael's house as a "home away from home". I'm here all the time. Mike and Faith are playing basketball in the driveway again, and it looks like Faith is kicking his butt. Mike puts the shot up and goes for the rebound, but Faith snatches it and looks in the window of my car. "LJ? I haven't seen you in years," Faith says through the half- rolled down window. I look at LJ in the backseat; he looks a little creeped out. "How has she seen me before? That's a little creepy," LJ whispers to me from the backseat. "She lived half a mile away. Chances are, you walked by that devil's pit one time or another." He grins and opens the door.

"Huh. Just like your dad. Blue eyes, average height, very observant," Veronica observes. I look at her and raise my eyebrows. "I noticed that she's just like Michael, not much else, and I've only known her for an hour and a half," I say in astonishment. Vee's good at stuff like this.

Michael comes outside, his white t-shirt and jeans a little more tight fitting since he's started working out a few months ago. I wasn't surprised when the moms started hitting on him on Mike's field trip.

Sara's not far behind him; she hasn't seen LJ in a week, and she hasn't seen Vee in a while either. "It's really you," LJ says. "See, what I don't get is, what interest should Kellerman and Gretchen have in you?" Sometimes I worry about LJ, because, at times, he lacks common sense, but at times like these, he's ever-practical and thoughtful. "That's what I thought. The only reason that they might even remotely care is because I have a few people that care about me," Faith theorizes.

How do I know these words? Gosh, gotta get away from Michael...

"But don't worry, they're not after me. They hated my guts with such a fiery passion, they'd never pursue me."

"Oh yeah, Michael, did you get the Baja flight yet?" He looks at me like he forgot for a second, then remembers again. "Not yet, but I'll have them before Wednesday." Faith looks confused. "Why are you buying plane tickets?" I probably am looking like she's a total idiot, because Vee punches me in the gut and I make my face expressionless. "Baja is in Mexico, and there is no way in the world that I'm driving that far and packing for two weeks," I say, borderline irritably. "I know where Baja is, but why would you pay for them when you can get there for free?" Faith is making my head hurt. "How do we get there for free?" She looks at me now like I'm the idiot, and I don't feel so bad for my look at her just a few moments ago. "I fly planes. Forge Kellerman's signature on a permission document, take it to the General at the hangar in LA, then I can get us a private jet for us to take. I get from here to LA by the hangar here in Chicago, a mile from where I lived," she tells us. "I can take planes out of there anytime, because they're single passenger, but I have to get permission for bigger jets and passenger planes that are only in LA."

Well then. No plane tickets for Baja.