At First Sight

Hath No Fury

Sara hugged her friend tight, rubbing her hands furiously over Meredith's bony shoulders. She pulled back and planted a kiss to her cheek.

"Call me when you get to Seattle," she ordered before pulling her into another long embrace.

"I will," Meredith mumbled into her auburn hair obediently. "Take care without me," she whispered. Sara was going to miss her friend. She was the one who had kept her sane while Michael was away. He had been gone for two weeks and one day now, and Sara figured she could last the rest of the time without Meredith.

They parted, hands giving one final squeeze into each other as Meredith stepped into her cab. She pressed a childlike kiss to the rear window as it drove away from the restaurant where they had lunch every day. Sara laughed aloud at her friend's antics before entering the restaurant for her lunch a smile still spread across her face.

Sara took a seat at the back corner of the restaurant, her favourite place to sit. It was quite, private and a gorgeous black and white photograph of the area hung above the table. Its familiar white tablecloth was tucked in between the edge and the wall and the menu was newly laminated as it stood in a card fold before her. A waiter scuttled towards her and she ordered her usual with a glass of still water.

The day was neither hot nor cold. The clouds floated around in the sky, shadowing the ground below them. It made for a very depressing morning as far as Sara thought. People bustled in the streets around the restaurant dressed in premature winter jackets and hats. The door to the restaurant chimed and Sara's whiskey stranger walked in.

He wore dark blue jeans, a fashionable tear just above the knee exposing some hairy flesh. His boots were heavy and had a thick tread on them, tied laces hidden beneath the edge of his jean legs. His hair was still spiky and he wore the same white shirt as the night before. Keys jingled in his brown leather jacket as he made his way to her. She greeted him with a smile and let him join her.

"Hey Lincoln," she said as if they had known each other forever. Last night, after they had almost kissed, he had apologised. He kept apologising until it made Sara annoyed at which point she had finally asked him what was wrong. She had seen this sort of destructive behaviour in Meredith many times before so she figured it was a woman. Veronica was her name. "How are things?" she quizzed, leaving her lunch as it arrived in front of her.

He slid free from his jacket and fluidly dressed the back of his chair with it. He rubbed his cold hands together to generate some warmth as he answered, "Good," he lied. Sara had suggested they meet for lunch so he could explain his situation in a more sober capacity and she could help him. She was a woman after all.

"Did you tell her what I suggested?" Sara asked, picking her fork up from the table and stabbing into her salad. Lincoln laughed heartily.

"As much of it as I could through the letterbox, yeah." Sara felt strangely comfortable around Lincoln. He had the same kind eyes as Michael and like her; he was just trying to get by in the world. They shared a common denominator; they both missed their partners and were substitutes for the companionship they missed.

"She'll come around," Sara assured him with a nod, filling her mouth with leaves. Lincoln didn't look convinced but her sweet face and humanitarian spirit made him feel a tiny bit better. He wasn't hungry so he didn't order anything. Again, he laughed at her statement.

"I'm sleeping in my car Sara," he paused, a pang of pain hitting his heart. "I'm not so sure," he solemnly added, rubbing his hands on his legs. His jeans were creased, a detail unnoticed by Sara until he had made his revelation about his sleeping arrangements. His face lit up with joy when his cell phone started to ring, the cheery ditty drawing attention to their table.

He scrabbled for it in his jean pocket while he apologised. The display read "INCOMING CALL" and underneath in standard type was "Michael". Lincoln apologised yet again and Sara smiled as he flipped the front of the phone open, pressing it to his ear.

"Bro," he bellowed into the mouthpiece but the line went dead. A puzzled look crept upon his face as he snapped the phone closed and placed it on the table. Sara lifted her head and her eyes fell on the device. Lincoln's face was pulled into a contorted frown and he shrugged.

"Is everything ok?" She asked taking a sip of her water.

"Yeah," he didn't sound convinced. "Just my brother. Must have got cut off," he dismissed. Lincoln was just about to send away the waiter that was casting a show over his shoulder when an almighty crack thundered through the restaurant. Lincoln flew into the wall with a thud, the picture above the table rattling free from its hook and landing with a smash on the ground.

"Lincoln!" Sara shouted, pushing herself from her table and jumping back as he grunted against the wall. Her frightened eyes suddenly filled with a mixture of happiness and fear as she laid eyes on Michael. He was standing above Lincoln, rubbing his bruising hand with a tentative touch. His entire body shook with anger and he snorted through gritted teeth, his eyes dark with fury.

"Michael!" she exclaimed and his eyes left the dazed bulk of man on the floor and met hers. His immediately softened to see her but she held her ground, mouth open with shock. "What the hell was that?" she demanded pointing a shaky finger at Lincoln who blinked hard against the wall confused by the impact. Her voice was full of rage and the restaurant suddenly became very quiet.

"That," he spat towards Lincoln, shaking his hand loosely in the air stopping only to inspect his purple knuckles. "Is my brother."

Sara's eyes flickered between the two men. Michael stood in front of her, seething with rage and breathing hard in his chest. His eyes were tired and had lost the flair of life he once held. His face twitched as he sunk into a nearby chair, pulling his hand protectively to his body as he winced from the pain.

Lincoln had begun to sit up from his lower abode, a giant hand reaching gently for his swollen eye. He cringed at the contact, his fingertip recoiling to his lap before he even applied pressure. He exhaled heavily, a groan escaping his lips. He looked up at Michael before turning to Sara; his head sinking lower with realisation of the situation.