Title: So Long, See You Tomorrow

Paring: Lincoln Campbell X Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcoholism and mugging and small amount of violence

Spoilers: well kiddies there can't be spoilers if I haven't seen the new season now can there? (Unless you're like me and read the wiki page and cry to sleep at night after the spoilers hit you).

Author's note: this was a request! This is for MyCookiemonster95 who wanted more Lincoln aaages ago and I'm a terrible fic writer I'm so so so so so sorry for not scouring the comment sections sooner to see what you wished for. 

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It would sound silly to say that seeing one man made your day. Just by simply setting eyes on him, but, it was true. Down on the corner store, you made a living working for your uncle's friend, selling groceries and newspapers and maps to the people around the city who made it to the corner where the store was situated. It was safe to say that you knew a lot of people by their face, the way their accent curled around the displays and into your ears. 

There was the mother of triplets, who came for a walk with all the babies in the pram, and bought her bread early in the mornings. The elderly man, who pushed his wheelchair bound wife wherever he went, buying juice boxes and pre-made sandwiches for picnics. And then, there was the handsome young man named Lincoln, who would just pop in and out for things, things that a student would need. Cupa-noodles, bread, milk. Sometimes, a gossip magazine for his landlady (apparently she didn't get out much).

It started with you. Perhaps it was because you always said good morning in your cheery retail™ voice, and he had replied back so happily, despite the bags under his eyes. After, when you caught wind he'd left the school he was at, you tried your best to not butt into his world too much. After all, a lot of people signed up for medical school, and not every person made it through the tail end of the education. But no matter what, you smiled, and tried to do your best to add a little smile to his day.

One day, a gentleman from down south was in for a map around the city, and as he was paying, he gave one of those stereotypical cowboy hat tips, and drawled a 'so long' from under his moustache. Behind him in line, Lincoln looked like he had the edges of a smile slowly inching their way onto his face. It seemed like a while since you'd seen the guy smile, and you didn't what came over you until he had bought his newspaper and loaf of bread, and you burst out,

"So long," just like previous customer, and tipped your imaginary hat to him. "See you tomorrow."

Lincoln's smile grew, making his eyes crease. "What if I don't come tomorrow?" He challenged, tucking the paper under his arm, the loaf firmly in the other hand, "What then?"

"Until the next time I see you," you gave a small smile, and as you heard the store's bell tinkle from another customer entering, the smile faltered. You shifted behind the counter, fingers fiddling with a pen to try and stop your face from becoming flustered from the attention. This had to be the longest you'd talked to him, and it was sure that you had a little crush on the guy. "Like what they say in Shakespeare. Adieu."

For reasons unknown, you did not see Lincoln the next day, or the day after that. It was nearing the holidays, and you got very busy in your work, and almost forgot about the meetings you'd have with the young man. But no matter what, he was on the back of your mind, wavering, waiting for a reason why you hadn't seen him for almost seven, eight, nine weeks.

When you saw his face on the television downtown at the place which sold them, a mug shot on the news, your heart stopped. The headline read that there had been a car crash, where an intoxicated driver had ploughed into a telephone pole, and while the female had mysteriously been taken to the nearest hospital almost instantly, he was missing. The cold air seemed to freeze around your feet; you were planted to the side walk, and despite the winter chill, you felt nothing but an emptiness within you.

Missing.

"Give me your wallet," you felt the form of a man side up to you, and before you knew it, the barrel of a gun was pushed into the small of your back. In the reflection of the store window, you see a familiar faced man, someone who you'd served once or twice. "Come on! Give me your money," he hisses into your ear.

The people walking by, sparse, don't seem to see that you are in the process of being mugged. You take a breath, feeling the gun's pressure increase. If he shoots, you'll never walk again. "I - I don't have any money, man, besides, tomorrow's payday," he jabs the gun harder, and you feel tears forming, "Please! I have nothing!" you whisper.

"Only one way to tell," he snarls, hand reaching into your coat pocket.

But in that moment, a pedestrian bumps into him, and you know it's over. But before the shot rings in your ears, pierces through your winter layers and into your spine, there's a different arm around you, and almost like blinking, the world was black, the shot never fired, and the air smelt different; a crisp taste was to it, something you'd never smelt before on your minimum wages and no passport. Slowly, you open your eyes, and see a man without eyes.

"You saved my life," you whisper, and before you can tell yourself to not do it, you wrap your arms around the man's middle, squeezing him with a hug. "Thank you."

His lips twitch at the gratitude, "You're most welcome, ________. I've been meaning to fetch you, but it seemed a greater moment than ever to bring you then." he motions to where you stand, and standing straight, you realise that you're not in America anymore. "Welcome to Afterlife."

You swallow, feeling suddenly dizzy. "All the crazy will catch up on me, sure, but you - he - wow. I guess this is a place sort of like that school in upstate New York? For people uh, like you?" you ask him, hoping not to offend him.

"My name is Gordon. And this is a place for people like you, and I." he points ahead, where, oddly, there is a small building, that looks like it has all the cutesy properties you'd ever thought a cottage would have in the mountains somewhere across the world would have. "Go in there, and you will meet Jiaying, and another person like us to help you through what is going on here." His hand drops to your shoulder, and gently, Gordon ushers you toward the room. "Go."

Your feet wake, and walk toward the hut, slowly. There aren't people around, and not many animals; the birdsong is sparse. But all that fades away when the doors part open at your touch, and you see the familiar face standing beside the woman with scars on her face.

"Lincoln?"

Four Years Later

"Lincoln, ________," Jiaying spoke, her voice clear, but hard to hear. In the special rooms, you seemed to be frozen, unable to move, but this time, it was for something other than fear. You'd spent four years alongside Lincoln training for this, helping him overcome the alcoholism, the grief of losing his mother and regret from leaving medical school. No, you could hear Jiaying perfectly well, through the cocoon of stone that was slowly crumbling, revealing your ears, your eyes, falling from where your fingers twitched. "Reborn, you are; you are Inhumans, you are new."

Behind her, the second in commands, the senior-positioned Inhumans repeated, "Welcome, young ones."

Your heart stuttered, and shaking your shoulders, felt the rest of the rocks fall from over you. Slowly, you turn, and see Lincoln beside you. He doesn't look like he's changed, not as far as you could see. But for the first time in years, he was smiling, and so were you, and inside your chest, your heart was beating faster than it had before.

"Your Inhuman abilities will take as long as they require to come forward, to evolve within you to be used safely, for yourself, for the others here in Afterlife."

Lincoln reached for you, only for a spark to jolt from his fingers, and crackle on the dry air. You beamed, and took his hand in yours. It might have sounded silly to say that seeing one man made your day, but being beside him made you feel a thousand times better.