Summary: Lincoln Six-Echo has been in active population only a few short weeks, but he hasn't yet found his place. That's when he meets someone new and interesting. R&R No flames plz.
A/N: This was born from...well...it kinda just came out of my head. LOL. This didn't come from watching a movie. I was listening to matchbox 20 Unwell and it popped into my head. So I give you this one shot.
Lincoln lay awake for the third night in a row. He glanced over at the black strip on the sterile white wall of his room where the time was illuminated in bright green.
Just about sunrise Lincoln thought to himself. He hadn't been able to sleep much at all last night. He had his first meeting with Dr. Merrick yesterday and he was quite unnerved by the man's presence.
Merrick wasn't like the rest of them. Instead of white, he wore dark suits, styled elegantly as though to show off his importance. When he talked, it was like he knew something the rest of them didn't. His talk of the Island made it so real, Lincoln could almost taste the salty winds coming off the ocean, but he couldn't quite grip the fantasy that Merrick painted. Merrick's very aura, one of confidence and superiority, was intimidating to Lincoln.
Lincoln had quickly learned everything he needed to know. He did his best to excel in everything, trying to make sure that he seemed the best candidate to go to the Island. Well, it was more to avoid seeing Merrick again, but that was completely beside the point to him. His effort paid off in some areas. His supervisors at work often congratulated him on doing a good job, which was enough for Lincoln at the moment. But what Lincoln wanted to excel in the most was the one thing he was failing at miserably…he wanted to make friends.
He saw the way the others gathered into little groups and did things together: ate, exercised, tanned, worked…He wanted someone to talk to, someone that would listen to him vent every once in awhile.
He watched the sun rise over the Island. He leaned his head back on the wall above his bed. The shadows on his wall, his only source of companionship for the past few weeks, ran from the light that threatened to engulf them. He sighed and got up. His wall greeted him with a cheerful "Good Morning, Lincoln Six-Echo" in bright green letters. He rolled his head and stretched before he showered and changed for the day. He walked down to the nutrition center for a quick bite to eat, antagonizing the woman working there just a little. She had never liked him from the beginning. He ate his less than appetizing breakfast quickly.
Clearing his place at the table, he looked across the cafeteria to see if she was there. Sure enough, she was sitting with a bunch of her friends. They talked and laughed jovially, sending a lonely feeling through him. He walked out of the cafeteria, trudging slowly towards his work area. He watched his shadow follow him, trudging just as dejectedly as he was. He put his hand on the handle to go to work when someone shouted at him.
"HEY! What do you think you're doing!" came a voice. Lincoln jumped back away from the door and looked at the person who had yelled at him. It was a man dressed oddly in a shirt with bright patterns. He was pushing a cart full of tools. "Don't you know this lab is closed for the day?" He looked at Lincoln over his glasses. Lincoln was a bit flustered.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know," he said. "I was just going to…" he trailed off from a glance at this new man. The new man gave him a once over.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Lincoln, Lincoln Six-Echo," he said. The man cocked an eyebrow.
"McCord," he said. "You wanna see how the lab gets fixed?" Lincoln nodded, a bit surprised. McCord motioned.
"Step into my office," he said, unlocking the door with a trikey and pushing his cart through. Lincoln followed him inside.
"So how long have you been here?" Lincoln asked. McCord looked like he was deep in thought.
"About five years," he said. "You're new." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. Lincoln nodded, not knowing what to say. "Hand me that whatchamacallit?"
"What?" Lincoln asked, obviously confused.
"You know, the whatsit that's right on top," McCord said. Lincoln stared blankly at him. There were a bunch of tools on top of McCord's cart. McCord got up, frustrated, and grabbed an odd looking tool before resuming his place underneath the cart.
"Oh, that," Lincoln said, as if he were to know.
"I've seen you staring at that blonde chick," McCord said.
"Oh well…I've…I…" Lincoln started. McCord looked at him. Lincoln cleared his throat. "I'm not very good at making friends."
"Have you tried talking to her?" McCord asked.
"No," Lincoln admitted.
"There's the solution," he said. With a loud bang, McCord hit a piece of lab equipment with the 'whatchamacalit' from before. The machine at once started to whir into life. He stood up, brushing himself off. He placed a hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "Just go up to her. Tell her something nice about herself. Girls like it when you do that." Lincoln nodded, unsure. "Trust me. As a friend." McCord said. Lincoln smiled. "Now out. Go talk to her. I've gotta get outta here." Lincoln walked out and watched as McCord waved him off over his shoulder while he pushed it down the near deserted hallway. Lincoln stared at McCord's retreating back until he disappeared around a corner. Maybe Lincoln would take his advice.
Just not today.
Thoughts? Constructive Criticism? Please tell me what you think. No flames please.