A/N - Ran into a writer block with this chapter. I'm still not too satisfied with how it turned out but I know I'm just being my own worst critic. So I just powered through to get this out there so I can move on to the next chapter. This chapter is meant to serve to set the tone of what Luna is to Lincoln and to give more crumbs about the fantastical life that he experienced on the other side of that woodward wall.

The Sweet Spot

Lincoln Loud sat down on the large strip of grass that separated U.S. Highway 16 from the Conoco gas station. Taking in the scenery before him. Even if it just consists of a stretch of road, distant trees, and an immaculate blue sky above it.

His family had stopped at the Conoco gas station while they were on their way to see Mount Rushmore for the weekend. He could hear them behind him. Some of them had gone into the store for one reason or another. Their voices were a pleasant melody to his ears. A warm reminder of their presence.

In the vast expanse of the world around him, he drew a deep breath, tasting the open air. Though tainted by the fumes of automobiles that traversed this path daily, there was an invigorating essence to it, a sensation beyond the confines of mere words. Yet, if he were to seek a term that brushed the edges of this emotion, it would be 'freedom'.

A flash of lavender disco jeans came into his peripheral vision, and he knew, even before he turned, that Luna had come to join him. She gracefully descended beside him, the glint of twin popsicles in her hand, an offering of shared delight. "Got you a treat, luv," she intoned, her voice a warm rasp that he had always found comforting.

He turned his head to her with a smile. "Thanks, Lunes." He took the popsicle into his hand. His eyes, filled with admiration, traced the contours of his elder sister. The sun's gentle caress illuminated her white top, accentuating her form, while a black leather jacket lay casually tied around her waist. Her short, chestnut hair gleamed under the sun's touch, and the constellation of freckles that adorned her nose and cheeks. Her cerulean gaze, deep and thoughtful, was fixed on the road yonder.

Drawn together by an unspoken bond, they nestled closer. Luna's arm found its way around his shoulders, and he, in turn, wrapped an arm around her waist, his head resting against her heart.

For a span of moments that seemed both brief and eternal, they sat in companionable silence, each savoring the icy sweetness in their hands. Lincoln, cocooned in warmth and comfort, began to succumb to the gentle embrace of sleep, only to be gently roused by Luna's melodious voice. "You've been hearing the song haven't you?"

The question, while vague to others, was something he instinctively understood. He carried it in every heartbeat. A smile returned to his face. "What song would that be?" He felt her smile as well.
"Wanderlust," she whispered, voicing the age-old call that had ensnared their hearts in myriad ways.

"Then yes," he murmured, "for a very long time." In the quietude of the moment, Lincoln found himself ensnared by the tendrils of yesteryears. They wafted through his mind, gentle and fleeting, much like a summer zephyr through the ancient trees that he and Lisa walked between after climbing that woodward wall. All those years ago.

It was ironic. Before that fateful day, the town of Royal Woods was the size of his 'world'. Everything he ever wanted or needed was there. It was where he was born and raised. He made memories on those suburban streets. Why would he ever leave? This was the belief that fed his confusion and angst of his sisters leaving their home one by one. He just couldn't grasp why they couldn't all stay in Royal Woods.

Then, he went over that woodward wall. What he witnessed throughout his voyage with Lisa was a world of beauty and splendor. Over time he came to understand the answer he had been searching for. By the time he came back home. Royal Woods felt completely different. The edges of his 'world' were no longer the town limits. But the sprawling tapestry of cities and landscapes that lay beyond it. Royal Woods now felt small. Their home now felt tight and compact.

Lincoln looked to the west. Watching cars disappear over the small hill as they go across the highway into the Black Hills National Forest. By now he had consumed his popsicle and now held Luna's hand on the arm that was slung around him. "I used to not get what was the big deal about moving out. I wanted all of us to stay together. I was—afraid of scattering to the wind. Then…I went out the door for a long time. Once I got back…"

"Mmm," Her hum was a pleasant sound. The kind that he once wished when choking on his own blood to hear again.

She had just savored the last of her icy delight, and the stick found its resting place on her thigh. The earth could not claim it, for Lana, with her uncanny senses, would detect the slightest transgression against nature.

She brushes her fingers through his white locks. "You've been away a long way haven't you?" she spoke softly with warmth that threatened to melt away his resolve in not telling her the truth. "I want to hear where you have been." Her hand came down to lay against the side of his face. "I want to know what is making you so afraid of being honest with me?"

He didn't stiffen at those last words. Deep down he already knew. The metallic band that looked so innocuous around his wrist relied on more than just words to exert his will. Words are so very complicated. He of all people would know that. A syllabus could mean a hundred different things depending on how it was said.

He could tell Luna to ignore it, to not pay attention to it. The device would recognize those words and the emotions that betrayed it. That desire deep down in his heart that defies his selfish wish is the desire to tell her everything.

He wanted to paint for her the mountains that kissed the heavens, to describe the skeletal remains of ancient titans beneath which he and Lisa had sought refuge from the relentless gaze of the sun.

He wanted to tell her about the people he had met. The ones he hated, the ones he loved, the ones that became corpses at his feet because he was too weak to help them. He wanted to tell her where he kissed Lisa for the first time. Where he proposed to her. Where he married her.

The road back home was so long. The memories weigh heavily in his heart. Not only did it feel wrong to not regale stories that deserve to be heard by others. It was an anathema to the person he became at the end of that very long road. A man who believed in the sanctity of stories. To suppress them, to deny these vivid recollections their rightful place in the world, was a notion he found deeply abhorrent.

That was what the device heard. As a result his commands weren't ironclad. Luna was able to vaguely sense that something was amiss even if her thoughts slipped on trying to grasp that truth. Combined with his innermost feelings, there is also the simple fact that Luna was, even if things were different, his big sister. Some bonds, some connections, are so profound that even the most advanced science cannot diminish their strength.

She sensed his evasions, the barriers he'd erected between them. It must have pained her, he realized, to feel this newfound distance.

"I—just want to pretend that we can stay like this for a little longer. I just want to enjoy the dream of living in a house with all ten of us still in it. I—" He can't say he wants it to last forever. To immortalize this ephemeral moment in time. No matter how much he wanted to last, at the end of the day he understood that there would come a day when he has to move on. It's just…

Lincoln felt Luna squeeze him. Resting her cheek on the stop of his head as she slowly rocked them. "I hear you, Linc. I'm still there myself, you know." She pressed a gentle kiss on his crown and slowly rose. "Always remember that, Luv." Extending her hand, he took it, drawing strength from her touch.

He could tell she understood the depth of his pain, and perhaps realized that now might not be the time to delve deeper. For now, she'd accept the progress they'd made, waiting for another day to unravel the song in his heart.

As Lincoln rose, he caught Luna's sly, mischievous grin. "You know," she began, her voice dripping with playful teasing, "it's heartening to know that among all your big sisters, I am still the 'favorite' if you're willing to bare your soul like this to me." With a chuckle, she danced back to the group, leaving Lincoln's cheeks aflame.

His blush only deepened when he spotted his wife, Lisa, standing on the grass. She was sipping her smoothie, the one she'd picked up from the store, with an air of nonchalance. Her expression was the very picture of self-satisfaction.

They locked eyes, and as she finished the last of her drink, she released the straw with a contented "ah." Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she teased, "You know, I regret not keeping the tally. It would've been delightful to know which instance this is of 'My husband goes all soft at the slightest hint of butch charm.'" Her voice was filled with mirth.

Lincoln met her gaze, his expression deadpan. "Well, what can I say? When a tall, brunette beauty has me wrapped around her finger, it's hard to resist," he shot back playfully.

Lisa's lips quirked into a sly smirk, her eyes heavy with mischief. "Oh, I've made sure of that, haven't I? Thoroughly trained you to my liking," she purred, her voice dripping with allure.

Their flirty exchange might have continued, but the familiar voice of their biological mother interrupted, beckoning all her children to gather around the van. The clock was ticking, and they had a schedule to keep if they wanted to fully experience the wonders of Mount Rushmore.

Lincoln and Lisa, their hands instinctively reaching out to grasp one another, walked back to Vanzilla.