Alabama.
The ingenious and full proof plan was to return to his birth place where I'm sure no one else thought to look. Knowing our luck, police would be parked out waiting for us wherever Tbag had in his mind we were going. I made a point of exhaling loudly as I was crammed between the two kids in the back seat of the car. Once we had all loaded up and took off from Susan's house we had made very few stops. The only person who didn't seem at all bothered by this turn of events was the one and only, Tbag.
It will never make sense to me as to why he never looks worried. If anything ever does get under his skin, he doesn't show it, whereas I probably read like a book when something bothers me.
He was calmly driving down the road with his fake hand resting outside of the window while Susan sat calmly in the passenger seat with her hands folded gently in her lap. The kids looked like they were about pass out from the boredom of the car ride as they both were cupping their hands underneath their chins.
"If I don't get out of this car soon, I cannot guarantee that tragedies won't start occurring." I whined leaning forward trying to make a connection with Tbag.
Tbag chose to just ignore me, but Susan came to my defense. She commented that everyone needed to eat, and his cheap snacks he bought at the rest stop a way back weren't going to cut it. While Tbag was trying have a discussion with Susan, I pushed back into my seat folding my arms across my chest. It probably wasn't the most mature move, but in the moment that's what felt right. Thankfully, Susan convinced Tbag to finally stop at the nearest rest stop but he was no fool. There was no way that he was just going to let the four of us walk around free on the off chance that we would spill the beans to someone.
So, when we finally decided to pull over we had to go over ground rules before we could exit the car. First, only two people could leave the car at time to use the restroom, get a snack, etc. As a result, Susan opted to take Grace while I would go with Zach later. This was insurance for Tbag because if anything went wrong he had leverage over Susan, and he knew I wouldn't go along with hurting children.
The only thing I really wanted to do was stretch my legs, we had been sitting for too long. When Susan and Grace disappeared around the corner, I stepped just outside of the car with Tbag while Zach remained in his seat not making eye contact with anyone.
In order to get the blood flowing in my legs and feet, I walked laps around the car, and every time I walked past Tbag I made sure to give him a glare to let him know that I still was not on board with this plan. By my sixth or seventh go around, Tbag grasped my arm stopping me in my tracks. He pulled me in so he could speak quietly to me.
"If you are trying to push me to my breaking point where I'm going to snap then keep doing what you're doing." He hissed.
I pulled back enough to look up at him through my eyelids and softly titled my head to the side.
"What do you mean?" I asked innocently even though the look on my face showed the opposite.
"I mean the constant second guessing of every decision I make and complaining like a complete child. Zach and Gracie are acting more maturely than you."
"I keep second guessing you because I don't want to be in this situation, and acting like a child is the only way to get your attention."
"Not the only way." He grinned while pulling me close to his body. His hand snaked around my lower back and was dangerously close to an area he did not want to cross.
I spun myself so I was out of his grip, "This is what I don't want to be a part of. This back and forth game between Susan and I."
Instantly, I regretted saying those words because it insinuated that Tbag was someone who could choose who he wanted to be involved with, and that I was one of those options. I had to interrupt before he could manipulate what I said to work to his advantage.
"What I meant was it is going to be nearly impossible to win Susan over when you are constantly playing games with me."
His tongue quickly jutted out of his mouth, which I've started to realize is a pattern. He hates when people spew logic that is inconsistent with his own, and the tongue is a mechanism to prevent himself from lashing out violently.
And clearly he needed a different mechanism.
Discovering that this conversation was going nowhere, I started to move back to my seat in the car.
Tbag called out, "I can't help but wonder Laneykins if there wasn't someone else in the picture, are you saying you would give me a chance?"
I stopped and turned my head around so I was looking right at Tbag. My face was completely flat not giving anything positive or negative away because truthfully I didn't know the answer to that question.
But it was the very reason that I couldn't give him a definite no that I was in this position to begin with. When Susan returned, I quickly ushered Zach out of the car and to the restroom so I could pretend that that conversation never occurred.
Finally reaching Conecuh county in Alabama made everyone breathe a sigh of relief, but only for a short while. The location was definitely different than Chicago and any of the other places we had visited, in that, we could drive for miles without seeing any sort of civilization, not to mention some of the houses we drove past weren't always in the best condition. At one point I was for sure that we must have been lost because we were in some sort of back woods area. The only people that could have possibly lived out here were those guys from Wrong Turn who probably wanted to eat us.
But Tbag pulled us down a long driveway and at the end was a small house that looked like no one had lived here in years. Everyone's attention was now dead set on this house that frankly was probably ready to collapse at any given moment, and had graffiti plastered all over it. Tbag was abnormally quiet as he parked the car and was just staring at the house.
Was this his childhood home? He knew exactly where he was going, but it was hard to imagine anyone living in a place like this.
"Miscreants," he said quietly to himself, "defilers, defacers."
It was clear that he was addressing the graffiti damage to the house, but what was listing synonyms supposed to accomplish?
"Theodore, what are we doing here?" Susan finally asked the question that everyone was thinking.
After a while he finally answered, "welcome home."
I thought the door might fall of the hinges when Tbag pushed it open. But it held as the door creaked open and we were met with the musty insides of an abandoned house. Someone could get sick if they stayed here too long. More graffiti spread out across the walls and it appeared that other people had been through looting the home. We all filed in and the four of us stayed huddled in a circle while Tbag moved throughout the house. By the look on his face you could see all the memories floating through his mind.
It felt nearly impossible to picture what Tbag was like as a child. When you thought about it, all that came to mind was the adult version right in front of you, the person that would readily kill you for looking at him the wrong way. I couldn't help but wonder if those violent tendencies were present throughout his youth as well. Without knowing every detail from his file, I knew that at some point in his life he was center to juvenile detention, and that triggered his criminal adulthood.
We all stood in silence as Tbag moved to a worn down desk in the house that he pushed to the side. To everyone else, it appeared that there was just a rotted hole in the wall, but Tbag stuck his hand and pulled out an old looking book with several pages appearing as though they were ready to fall onto the floor. The book was large, too large to be a standard reading novel. When Tbag opened the book and started skimming the pages, I couldn't make out the details of the print but I could make out ink as though someone had taken a marker and scribbled on the inside. It was clear that he was in a different place in his mind. The four of us could probably bolt out of the door and it would be awhile before he noticed.
Something, though, kept me glued to the spot, and it was watching Tbag in this sort of state. He normally kept a distance between his true self and the façade he portrays to others, so it was unsettling to be thrust in this position to see him like this. He set down the book and kept moving throughout the house, and while he moved I moved with him. I stopped right in front of the book and filled through a few pages trying to figure out what I was looking at, when it hit me.
A dictionary.
Suddenly, several things started to make sense. From the first time I met him, Tbag had always had a way with words. He is the master of pulling out these crazy words in his sentences, that many would think it surprising considering his background. Then I thought back to the car setting when Tbag was talking to himself and he said these certain words.
Miscreants. Defilers. Defacers.
They were all similar words that could describe the criminals that vandalized his house.
There were no other books in this house so I was left to assume that when Tbag was a kid he just read this dictionary and the inked notes were the connections between the words. I couldn't imagine that any child, even a unique one such as Tbag, would simply choose to read a dictionary so I was only left to guess that this was something he was made to do, but the reason was still mysterious to me.
My attention was pulled back to Tbag as he roamed into another room, what was probably most likely a bedroom. He remained in the doorway just staring in the empty room and I noticed his hand clenched against the door frame. Susan kept saying his name, but it was like he couldn't hear anything. I closed the dictionary and walked over to where he was standing without him moving an inch or recognizing my movements. As delicately as I could, I placed my hand on his shoulder and provided the slightest of pressure.
"T…" I muttered softly.
With a deep exhale of breath, he finally turned his attention towards me. I tried to play calm, but there was no doubt in my mind that he could not recognize the look of fear and uncertainty on my face when we faced each other. For a second I had forgotten that Susan and her two kids were still here with us.
"What's the plan here, Theodore?" She chimed.
Suddenly embarrassed by my actions, I quickly returned my hand to my side and stepped so I was leaning against the wall. I could feel the heat starting to rise through my cheeks and I prayed that it was only due to my feelings of mortification, and nothing else.
"This is where we are starting this family." He said shifting right back into character. "We are gonna put down some roots."
The eyes of everyone darted around the house, and the same thought passed through our heads, which as how can we live in a place such as this? Tbag sprang into action and started collecting the random pieces of junk and putting them in a pile. His delusion was back in full effect as he thought tidying up would enough, despite there being no electricity or plumbing.
"With some TLC we can spiffy this place up nice." Tbag said optimistically. Although I couldn't be sure who he was trying to convince.
"Theodore we can't do this. We can't live here." Susan said definitively.
"What are you talking about? This place will be perfect once it gets spruced up a bit."
"No, you aren't listening." Susan's tone was the angriest I've heard since I met her even though there was still a tone of fear.
Tbag stopped working and moved closer to Grace and Zach. At first both Susan and I moved defensively, but Tbag held up his hand as he ushered the kids into the other room.
"I don't understand why you are doing all of this?" Susan pleaded.
"Because I love you." Tbag said matter-of-factly.
I made sure to look down at the ground so I could avoid eye contact with Tbag during this conversation.
"The reason that I chose this location for us was because I am the last of the Bagwell bloodline. After I go, there will be no more of this filthy blood contaminating the world because I cannot procreate."
Fact.
According to his medical report, due to the extensive abuse he experienced as a child, Tbag is sexually dysfunctional. Although, I never pegged him as someone who would want to have children or be a father. He had grasped onto Susan's hand and pulled her into sitting position so he could crouch in front of her, effectively forcing her to look at him. I was awkwardly standing the background pretending to be anywhere else.
"Can't you see that this my chance to start a new. To begin again. To become the man I've always wanted to, and those children in there can help me do that. I can find Jesus, get baptized in the creek back behind the house as long as I know I have you at the end of the day, Susie Q."
Something about the moment made my senses peak. The words Tbag was saying were emotionally charged and Susan had started to cry. My gut was telling me that something bad was about to happen, and an over-emotional Tbag was never good in these types of situations. I shifted my weight to more agile position so if things started to go south I would be prepared.
"The only thing I need to know," Tbag continued, "is for you to say you love me too. Or that you can learn to love me in time."
He gently cupped Susan's face and that was his bread and butter move because it was always such a soothing touch. He was going to make it difficult for Susan to refuse him with that choice. I could see from the back that she was trembling slightly and Tbag definitely wanted to capitalize on this moment, so he started to move his face closer to hers. I held my breath in anticipation for this outcome.
"I can't." she said through the sobs and pulling away from Tbag. "I just can't."
Oh boy.
With quick reflexes, Tbag was immediately back on his feet a few paces away from Susan. He was staring at her with complete disbelief, but it was the silence that was unsettling to me. He was plotting, and Tbag plotting is also never a good thing. I thought my best course of action would be to de-escalate the situation, but before I had a chance to intervene, Tbag stormed out of the house leaving Susan and I bewildered. She immediately went for her children, but I kept my eyes glued to the door. There was no way he was just going to leave after something like that, the question was what he had planned?
Unfortunately, we would get our answer when Tbag came storming back into the house. Susan and the kids all started crying and my eyes widened as they were glued to the object in his hand.
It was an axe.
How the hell did he find an axe? The look in his eyes were enough to make anyone tremble and it never usually subsided without bloodshed. I could stay idle no longer and quickly moved into a defensive position blocking him from the other three.
"Don't." I said staring straight at him.
"I'm telling you one time Laneykins to get out of the way." He growled.
Everyone behind me was crying and it was difficult to focus. I knew I had to constantly monitor the movement of Tbag, or one wrong move and it would be all over. The only way I could see this playing out was if I tried to talk him down, but it could so easily backfire. I instantly tensed up when he started moving closer.
"You just said that you wanted a second chance, that you wanted to be a different person. This is that chance, T. Slaughtering us won't make you a better person."
Damn, he was still coming.
The thought was starting to creep in my mind about what would have to happen if I couldn't talk Tbag down. Fighting him would be difficult with his weapon of choice and we couldn't fight too close to the others out of the risk that they take a stray hit. In order for this to work I had to put myself in the mindset of what Tbag was feeling and thinking right now. Obviously there was anger, and feelings of rejection were never fun. So there was a lack of acceptance from someone he cared about, and feeling unlovable from the rejection.
With two long strides Tbag closed the distance between us and was gripping the axe by the handle with his hand. He pushed it forward at an angle that if I wasn't ready for it, it would have connected with my nose, but I put my hands up and gripped my fingers around the handle. Now it was a tug of war match with each of us trying to pull the axe away from the other. He leaned back launching me forward and needing to push my weight onto my toes to prevent myself from falling forward. He knew I had the advantage being able to pull with two hands so his strategy was to try and keep me off balance for as long as possible. He was also trying to use his feet to knock mine out from under me.
"That question you asked me earlier." I blurted forcing us to come to a halt. "Yes. The answer is yes."
My only hope was that he understood what I was referencing. That I could get through to him that there was someone in this world who cared about him. He was staring right at me trying to comprehend the meaning of what I had just said so I took the opportunity to pull the axe from him. I held onto the handle but let the blade of the axe rest on the floor. I ushered for the door and for us to just leave. We could…sort out the details later.
"Get the car." He ordered.
I didn't move an inch. He received a skeptical look for a remark such as that, and I twirled the blade of the axe around to demonstrate my annoyance at his attempt. As if I would just leave him alone with these three after the stunt he just tried to pull. The thing about Tbag was that he didn't need a weapon to do bad things. He moved towards me but he stopped when he saw my body tense up.
"We can't just set them free so they can tell the police about us. I promise I won't hurt them, but I can lock them away until we are a safe distance." He said putting his two fingers in the air as if that lame excuse for a promise was going to resonate with me.
"Please don't leave us, please." Susan was begging.
My mind was racing trying to think of the best way out of this situation. I couldn't believe that I had convinced Tbag to abandon this mission, but I knew it wouldn't truly be over until we were a safe distance away, and he wasn't going anywhere until the Hollanders were secured somewhere. I racked my brain trying to think of a solution.
"Put them in the cellar outside," I offered. "We can call the police to let them know where they are, but by the time they find them we will be long gone."
"No! No!" they were all shouting at once forcing me to whirl around in a threatening manner.
"Look, it's either that or he is going to chop you all to pieces, your choice." I fumed.
They still had tears streaming down their cheeks as Tbag ushered them outside of the house to the cellar, and I followed closely behind axe still in hand, just in case. Once the doors were shut we realized that there was no lock on the doors to the cellar, so we were going to have to improvise. In the same spot where Tbag must have retrieved the axe was a pile of wood, and he grabbed one of the longer pieces to slip between the door handles. As I followed him to the car, he took a good look at me with the axe in my hand.
"I'd say that criminal is starting to rub off on you, Laneykins. And it looks sexy as hell."
I ignored the comment but slid into the passenger seat and took one more look at the Hollander family before Tbag sped away. It was a good feeling to know they were safe, but Tbag's comment sat in the back of my throat, leaving me to wonder and dread if he was right.
After a safe distance away, Tbag decided he needed to pull over, although I wasn't sure why. He was quiet when he slipped out of the car, and I followed suit only to freeze in place when I saw the first stray tear roll down his face.
He was crying.
And I just stood there for what felt like a long time just watching him cry.
With a loud sniff, Tbag stood up and wiped his eyes. I was honestly at a loss for how to react in this situation because I have never seen him act like this before. He seemed downright brokenhearted, and it was difficult to watch. Seeing his childhood home and some of the things he had to deal with provided a different perspective I couldn't believe I wasn't aware of. Based on his background information, I knew that he had suffered from childhood trauma, but a few pages cannot begin to fully represent the repercussions of such abuse. If there was ever a case for nature vs. nurture, I think Tbag would be a prime candidate. Can the crimes of the past be attributed to his genes, or the experiences of growing up, or perhaps a combination of the two?
Still in his emotional state, I slowly moved towards him and extended my hand so it brushed his shoulder, enough so he knew I was here, but not overbearing. He turned and looked at me, really looked at me for what felt like the first time in days. The pain was so clearly written across his face, and only someone who was unfeeling wouldn't take notice. I opened my mouth like I wanted to say something comforting, but I stopped short because I didn't know what to say. In an unexpected move, Tbag gripped the back of my neck so hard that I thought his nails would draw blood. The next thing I know his lips are pressed up against mine and his arms are holding me firmly in place.
I guess he's over Susan?
My eyes remained open the entire time while we kissed, and it felt completely different than that night in the hotel. The more his mouth moved against mine the quicker my sympathy for him was disappearing. I realized something in that moment, that the circumstances of one's birth or upbringings cannot take away responsibility for his actions. Tbag is not the only person to suffer from childhood trauma, and others in similar situations do not resort to criminal behavior. Susan understood that, and while she may have felt bad for Tbag it couldn't excuse his past and she would not allow that around her kids.
Tbag finally broke the kiss but remained in close proximity and rested his hand against my cheek. We stared at each other for a long time, and I resorted to giving him a small smirk followed by an exhale of breath. Tbag was too busy turning his attention to finding the bag of money that he didn't notice me pick up the axe and swing it forward connecting the handle to the back of his head. My hands were still trembling as I let the axe fall to the ground simultaneously with Tbag's knees hitting the pavement and his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
My chest had completely tightened up watching him collapse, and I felt multiple emotions all at once. There was definite fear that he was going to wake up and be royally pissed about what I had just done, and I also felt guilty that I took advantage of him when he was in such an emotional state. I used his vulnerability for my benefit. But at the same time I finally gained the upper hand. This would be maybe my one and only chance to get back to what I was trying to do, and my stupid feelings for him was distracting me from my goal.
Help prove that Lincoln Burrows is innocent.
It felt so long since I had thought about any of those guys, and honestly I didn't even know if they were all OK. I hoped they were, but with all the strange things taking place I wouldn't be convinced until I saw them for myself.
As I drove away, I could still see Tbag's unconscious body lying next to the road, and my foot hovered over the brakes as I thought I should turn back around for him. With a large exhale I turned my eyes back to the road and sped away from the scene with the faint sounds of sirens in the background.