Update: The Archer – Part 7
Finished my curriculum writing this morning, so yay! I had to do soooo much background work to write the documents, and it was like, taking over my whole life, lol. But it’s done, and now I can dial back how much time I spend (though this is me we’re talking about so I’m still going to be working).
Temps are sky rocketing this week so I hope everyone is staying cool and hydrated 🙂
Written in 56 minutes.
Sunday, October 15, 2000
Hardy House: Living Room
“Oh, this is a lovely surprise.” Audrey was beaming when she saw her granddaughter step inside the front door, pause on the landing, but the brightness of her smile dimmed when she saw Elizabeth’s expression, the way her eyes refused to lift in greeting, the way Elizabeth held her bag, almost protectively in front of herself. “What’s happened?”
“I—” Elizabeth glanced up, then looked away quickly. “I just wanted to know if I could…I don’t know. Sit in my old room for a while. I just—” She stepped back when Audrey came forward. “I just need somewhere to sit. Where no one can find me.”
“All right.” Audrey folded her arms, worried she might rush forward to hug Elizabeth and send her granddaughter fleeing. “Well, your room is just as you left it. And my darling, you know that you never have to ask, don’t you? It’s your room. And this will always be your home.”
“Thank you. I’ll—I’ll just go up then.”
She practically fled up the stairs, and Audrey remained rooted to the floor until she heard the soft click of the door upstairs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Elizabeth look that way, sound that way —
Not for months. Years.
What had happened?
Luke’s: Office
Luke sifted through the ledger, grimacing when another stack of invoices and papers cascaded from the pages. He hated doing quarterly taxes — hated even more that he didn’t trust anyone to handle his money. Certainly not anyone working for him right now.
“Luke.”
“I’m busy,” Luke grumbled, looking through the mess from the remains of his cigar. “Come back next year.”
“Luke.”
He lifted his gaze to the door, frowning when he saw his bar manager. “Claude, can’t you do anything?”
“Your kid came in, grabbed a bottle of Hennessy and went to sit at a table in the corner. Figured you’d want to know.”
“Hennessy?” Luke repeated. “Christ. A whole damn bottle? You didn’t want to give him any the rotgut that costs us pennies?” He didn’t wait for Claude’s answer, hurrying out to the main room of the bar. There were only a handful of patrons this time of day, most had come to listen to that night’s band warm-up and run their set. A few had no where else to be —
And there was his boy, slouched over one of the tables in the back corners, table that Sonny or his ilk usually commandeered when they came to the club because you could get a good look at the rest of the bar — and the entrance.
“I didn’t ask you to sit down,” Lucky muttered when Luke pulled out the chair across from him. He took another long pull from the bottle, scowling when Luke tugged it from his grasp. “Hey—”
“You wanna get drunk in solitude, you go somewhere people don’t know you, but I’m guessing you came here because you can’t afford this on your own dime, so you decided to rip me off.”
Lucky pressed his lips together, sat back with a sullen expression. “You gonna charge me? Since when did you turn into a penny pincher?”
“Since I saw my tax bill.” Luke paused. “Drinking in the middle of the day? Only one thing makes a guy crazy enough to do that, and it’s a girl. You and Liz have a fight?”
“A fight?” Lucky repeated. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. We were talking and then it took a nose dive, and all of sudden, she’s running away from me, and crying—” he stopped, shook his head. “Yeah, okay, we had a fight.”
Luke got up, put the brandy bottle back where it belonged, then poured two tumblers of a cheaper, but decent whiskey. He returned to the table, set one in front of Lucky. “It happens that way. You say something, and she hears something something else. Before you know it, you’re yelling. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Well, Elizabeth thinks I only fell in love with because she got raped, so—” Lucky tossed back the entire content of the tumbler, grimacing as he swallowed the liquor. “You tell me.”
Luke tipped his eyed, squinted. “That’s a pretty big left turn, Cowboy. How’d she get on that road in the first place? I thought she put that away a long time.”
“Yeah, because that’s the kind of thing that you just turn the page on, right, Dad?” Lucky demanded his eyes hot. Reminiscent of the angry teenager he’d been. “File away in a folder, and forget.”
Luke counted to ten, then took a deep breath. “I just meant that I thought she was past the worst of it. She seemed like her old self again, most of the time.”
“Her old self.” Lucky rolled his eyes. “You never met her old self, Dad. You don’t even know what we’re talking about here.”
“Well, I know she was a kid when she rolled in here. Angry, resentful. Lashing out, and looking for attention.” Luke lifted his brows. “Barbara told me that she was working for Ruby because she’d used all her money coming here on a first class plane ticket. That she had a piss-poor attitude and a chip on her shoulder. Ruby liked her.”
“She’d be one of the few,” Lucky muttered, staring into the empty tumbler, twisting it back and forth in his hands. “Lizzie had two goals — ruin Sarah’s life and impress me. And she failed most of the time. At both.”
Luke exhaled slowly. “Lizzie,” he repeated. “You, ah, don’t call her that much anymore. But it’s how you introduced us. At Kelly’s. Lizzie Webber. When you’d stop doing that?”
“I—” Lucky squinted, looked at him. “What?”
“You’re describing someone you don’t like very much,” Luke said.”You called her Lizzie. You don’t do that. You call her Elizabeth. Always. Just thought it was interesting. You talk about them like they’re two different people.”
“Lizzie and Elizabeth,” Lucky echoed. He scrubbed a hand down his face, closed his eyes, kept them closed as he continued to speak. “She was trying to tell me about this job offer. From Chloe Morgan. To be her assistant. She’d have to travel a lot. She’d never be around. And she was telling me she used to like fashion. Used to follow all that stuff. I didn’t know that.” He looked at his father. “I didn’t know that. But I should have, I guess. She got all girly over meeting Brenda, you know? Desperate to get into the wedding, and stole Ruby’s invitation. I figured it was…you know, for me. But maybe it was Brenda.”
“And now she has a chance to get back into that?” Luke pressed. “Is that why you were fighting?”
“It’s how it started. And—no, I didn’t know that. Why would I have known that?” Lucky told him. “We weren’t friends or anything. She was just around all the time, and she was at the diner, and around Sarah. Why would I have known what she was into? We were friendly, Dad, not friends.”
“Because you didn’t like her.”
“No. That doesn’t make me an asshole, Dad—”
“No. It doesn’t. But it means that there’s some truth in what Liz said, isn’t there? You didn’t like before she was raped. Now you’re in love. So—”
Lucky winced. “I might have said something about how she’s better now,” he muttered.
“Starting to see how you got here, aren’t we, Cowboy?” Luke pushed his untouched whiskey towards his son. “Look, no one is saying that you fell in love with because she was raped. Or I’m not saying that,” he added when Lucky glared at him. “I’m saying you didn’t give her much of a chance before that. And then, after, you got to know her better. You fell in love with her.”
“She doesn’t see it that way—”
“Well, give her a break, Cowboy. If you used the actual words better now then you’re probably lucky she didn’t run you into a fence with the car.” When Lucky frowned at him, Luke shrugged. “Your mom has a wicked temper when you cross her. I’d be careful. At any rate, maybe you give her some space and come back to this when she’s had a chance to calm down.”
Hardy House: Elizabeth’s Bedroom
Elizabeth slid her fingertips across her walls, still adorned with the posters she’d put up when she’d first moved up — pinups ripped from Bop and Tiger Beat of boy bands and soap opera hunks. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the remnants of her old life. The pieces she’d never pulled down. She hadn’t wanted to let her grandmother know anything was that awful, and then she didn’t have the time, she was so rarely here.
And after the fire, she hadn’t had the energy for any of it. Then she’d moved out—and they’d sat here. Evidence of the carefree girl she’d been once.
You were a brat, and you’d be the first to say so. You were shallow and obsessed with how you looked and getting me to look at you. To get anyone to look at you. That’s not who you are now. You’re a better person.
“Better person,” Elizabeth murmured. She stared at her finger tips, at chipped nail polish she hadn’t had time to remove and repaint, then looked over at the closet. Did she still have any here?
She folded back the door, and bent down, rooting through the shoebox full of old makeup, trying to find a bottle that wasn’t hopelessly dried out. Suddenly, redoing her nails was all she could think about.
She moved to a different box, then saw one in the corner — this one was larger, a moving box left over from one the Johnsons had shipped from Colorado once Elizabeth had fled their house. They’d probably been relieved to be rid of her, Elizabeth thought wryly. So relieved they’d paid the exorbitant shipping.
Her amusement faded. You were a brat.
With her stomach rolling, Elizabeth tugged at the box, pulling it out of the closet. She sat on her carpeted floor, her legs folded in front of her, and pulled back the flaps. When she removed the third spaghetti-strap tank, she remembered now what this was, and when she’d pushed it to the back of her closet.
After the rape, when she’d worn nothing but those sweaters, flannels, and denim, she’d packed up anything that she thought was too revealing, anything that drew attention, and shoved it into the closet. Bright colors, shorts, skirts, anything that didn’t hit the knee—
She’d needed to pull some pieces out when they were trying to trap Mr. Murty into admitting he’d attacked her. Elizabeth slid her fingers over a scarlet red tube top. It had been her favorite color once. She’d bought the dress for the dance in the same shade. So sure that if Lucky could see her at her best, that he’d fall in love with her.
Because I knew you had a crush on me
He’d known, and he’d still said yes to hanging out at the dance together. Still said yes to going out with her sister. Had known and decided to break her heart in person by backing out of their plans. If he’d just called — would she had lied to him—
No. Elizabeth closed her eyes, squeezing her hands into the fabric of the tube top. No. It wasn’t his fault she’d been raped. It hadn’t been her fault. He had a right to be an asshole teenaged boy, and she’d had the right to be a girl with a broken heart.
She shoved the clothing aside. It was time to go through it — to donate what was out of style, and maybe put some of the pieces back in rotation. She hadn’t died that night in the park — there was no reason her fashion sense needed to have so much in common with her grandmother. And she’d already started to wear red again, hadn’t she?
At the bottom of the box, she found her fashion magazines — Vogue, Elle, Coutour —and her silly teenage ones — YM and Seventeen, and of course, Teen Vogue.
She’d hidden all these pieces away, the revealing clothing, the magazines, everything that made her feel like she’d made herself a target somehow. Worrying about what she wore, what people thought about her, what she looked like — everything that she thought was the reason Tom Baker had grabbed her in the park.
Maybe it was selfish and self-centered to take this job, to put herself in front of what Lucky needed, and maybe it was going back to who she’d been once. But maybe it was just what she needed, the last piece to make her whole again.
She’d take the job. And damn the consequences.
Update Link: You’re Not Sorry – Part 116
Hello! I misread my notes and it turns out that in addition to today’s update, we need one more part of this story on Wednesday. I’ll see you again tomorrow for The Archer!
Written in 66 minutes.
Wednesday, November 27, 2024
Jamesville Correctional Facility: Visiting Room
It had been more than a month since Kristina’s transfer to the federal facility near Syracuse, and every Monday and Wednesday like clockwork, Sonny had traveled to visit her, going through the humiliating motions of being searched on every single occasion.
Not that Kristina seemed to appreciate it. Sonny was trying to have some patience for his daughter — she’d never served time the way he had and it would take her time to get used to the lack of autonomy, the lack of independence. Living on a schedule, being dragged out of bed for count before she wanted to roll out of bed, sleeping on an uncomfortable cot with a steel bedframe. He didn’t have strings to pull in the federal facility, and even if he had, he was hesitant to use them, not wanting the feds to hone in more on his organization.
Her hair looked greasier than their last visit two days prior, and the purple circles beneath her eyes were even more pronounced. The guard led her into the visiting room, then locked her shackled hands to the metal ring at the center of the table.
Kristina grimaced at the awkward sitting position it forced her into, but the moment the door had closed, she leaned in. “How much longer? That damn lawyer won’t tell me anything!”
Sonny shook his head. “The courts are slow at the holidays, Kristina. I told you that, and so did Martina. They haven’t set a date, and even if they had, she’s been clear. Bail is probably not happening.”
“Elizabeth got bail,” Kristina muttered, and Sonny forced himself not to scowl at her. It would do no good to remind Kristina that the case against Elizabeth had been thin, and that arresting her at all had been a pretext from the FBI to flip her on Jason.
There was no reason to let Kristina out of jail, not when they had such damning evidence against her. They had to suspect that if she were loose, Sonny would have her ankle monitor off and put her on a plane to the furthest country without extradition available.
No, there was nothing he could for his daughter anymore other than provide her a good lawyer and visit her.
“I can’t live like this, Dad. You have to help me—”
He’d told her over and over again for weeks, but he’d have to repeat himself again. Because she couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around the situation she was in.
“The time when I could help you, Kristina, is done,” Sonny said, and she tried to sit back but couldn’t get very far with her hands chained to the table. “The time to ask me for help was months ago. Before you started playing games. I cannot do anything to make this go away.”
“That’s bullshit—you’d do it if I were Michael,” Kristina spat. “You pulled all kinds of strings—”
“Played every card I had and he still went to prison for months,” Sonny shot back. “I told you, Kristina. We’re playing the hand that you dealt us. You forced me to choose, and I chose you. Don’t make me regret it.”
Webber House: Kitchen
Danny peered at the screen, furrowing his brow. “Are you sure about this?” He looked at Aiden, up to his elbows in bread dough. “I don’t think you’re supposed to put sugar in bread.”
“It’s enriched dough, dork. And it has to sit overnight so I can finish it in the morning and have the brioche ready for breakfast—”
“Oh, God, I stopped caring—” Danny tossed the phone. “You don’t actually need my help, do you?”
“Tried to tell you,” Aiden grunted. “But you insisted.”
“I was bored,” Danny retorted. “Obviously. Whatever, I’m gonna go play Final Fantasy.” He was halfway to the stairs when he heard the light knock at the door. Finally! Something to do! He practically sprinted to the door, tugged it open, then made a face when he realized Dante and Rocco were on the other side. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Hello to you, too,” Dante said, with a lift of his brow. “Is this a bad time?”
“No.” Danny stepped aside, avoiding Rocco. His former friend slunk in behind his father, but lingered at the door. “Aiden’s baking, and Dad and Liz are setting up the deep fryer in the back.”
“Deep fryer?” Dante repeated.
“Cam wanted to try it,” Danny said. “So we’re deep frying tomorrow morning and lugging it over to Grandma Monica’s. I didn’t ask questions.”
“Okay. Well, I’m gonna go out and talk to them. Rocco, why don’t you hang out in here?” Dante suggested, then headed for the back door before anyone could argue.
Danny and Rocco remained silent, awkwardly standing several feet apart, staring at the ground. They hadn’t really seen each other since his mother’s services last month. Rocco had gone back to school, but Danny had opted to go on homebound until after the holidays. He hadn’t felt up to returning to school with all the people staring at him, and he’d started seeing Dr. Fletcher daily for a few weeks.
Rocco shoved his hands in his pockets. “Uh, how’s things?”
“Fine.” Danny folded his arms. “You back at school?”
“Yeah. Dad made me go back after the suspension.” Rocco hesitated. “I’m mostly sorry for punching you.”
“I’m not sorry for punching you back. You were a dick.”
“So were you,” Rocco said, his head snapping back.
“You both were,” came Aiden’s voice from behind them. “So shut up about it and go somewhere else. You’re distracting me.”
“Whatever. You wanna play Call of Duty?” Danny suggested.
“Yeah, it’s been a while since I kicked your ass.”
“Suck my—”
Whatever Danny was saying to Rocco faded as the two raced up the stairs to the third floor, leaving Aiden in silence. Which was perfect because it was time to let the dough prove.
Webber House: Backyard
Elizabeth eyed the metal cannister between Jason and Cameron with trepidation. “We’re not going to accidentally blow up the house, right? Because I already did that once.”
“Twice if you count the time I set it on fire when I was a kid,” Cameron said absently, skimming the directions again, then squatting to check the placement. “We’re good, Mom. I watched a ton of videos, and I saw lots of guys get set on fire. I took notes.”
“This is a bad idea—” Elizabeth turned at the sound of her back door opening, saw Dante there. “Dante, do you think deep frying a turkey is a good idea?”
“How sure are we that the Quartermaine curse doesn’t travel?” Dante responded, and Elizabeth frowned, looked back at the duo.
“I didn’t even think about that.”
“Chill, I think you need more than half a Quartermaine present—and if we keep Jake and Danny inside, I think we’re good.”
Jason looked at him with skepticism. “I don’t think it works like that.”
“Shh, go along with it. Mom’s unlocked a new level of worry,” Cameron said.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, folded her arms and looked at Dante. “Their new favorite thing is to agitate me. Ignore them. What’s up?”
“I, uh, brought Rocco with me. I thought it’d be good if he and Danny tried to hang out a little before tomorrow,” Dante said. “Just to avoid the food fight. I was looking for an excuse to do that — and Alexis gave me a good one today.” He looked over at Jason. “Sam’s estate has been settled. She signed the last trust paperwork today.”
“Yeah, she called me. You didn’t need to come over for that—”
Dante reached into the inside pocket of his coat, pulled out a piece of paper. “Sam left a letter to her mother—to the executor, I mean. About the kids. She updated it when you came home last year,” he said to Jason. “Before that, I guess she’d asked Drew to take custody of the kids to keep them together. And because Drew and Danny used to have a good relationship.”
Jason tensed, and Elizabeth reached out for his hand, wondering if Sam had updated her will to reiterate that wish. If somehow, the custody fight would survive her death. “But it’s different now. With Jason home. And—”
“And Sam didn’t exactly have authority to give away Danny’s custody, yeah. She, uh, she wrote that she knew Jason and Drew disliked each other, and that things were difficult. That she didn’t—” His voice faltered. “She didn’t really expect to have to worry about it, but after I was shot, she thought — anything could change. So she wrote that even though you guys didn’t like each other, she hoped you’d do right by the kids. To keep them together as much as you could.”
“We’ve done that,” Jason said with a nod. “Danny spends the weekends with his sister. You know that.”
“I do. And that’s—it’s good. But Drew—well, against the odds, he’s going to Washington after the new year,” Dante said. “And the subject of Scout while he was there came up.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t even know how much he’d be gone.”
“A couple of months at a time, I think. Most of the winter. He…he doesn’t want to uproot Scout from Port Charles. From her family. But he’s also worried that just letting her stay the house without him — she’ll sort of be on her own.” Dante paused. “At first, Alexis suggested that maybe Danny could live there while he was gone—” he held up a hand when Jason opened his mouth to protest, “but I pointed out that means Danny would feel responsible for her all the time. And that’s not fair to him. So I had an idea. And Drew is on board. If you are.”
Queen of Angels Cemetery
The ground was cold, but Molly sat anyway, folding her legs, and looking at her sister’s newly entombed stone. Samantha McCall.
“I don’t know why people find comfort in this sort of thing,” Molly said. “Why sitting over your buried remains is supposed to feel like talking to you. If you had any sense, you wouldn’t be haunting your grave anyway.” And if life were fair, Sam was haunting Kristina, keeping that bitch awake and never letting her have a moment of peace.
“The kids are managing. Drew and Jason may have been terrible husbands, I don’t know, but they’re good fathers. And they’re making sure Danny and Scout see each other all the time, and we all—we all go to the house every weekend for dinner so Mom and I can see them, too. It’s…it’s helping Mom. I think. To keep focusing on them. And I’m trying to forgive her. It’s not easy, but I know you’d hate us fighting like this. I can’t do anything about our sister. Not even for your memory, Sam. I won’t. But for you, I can try give Mom another chance.”
Molly’s eyes flitted to the side, to the stones nearby. “I don’t know if there’s something more after we die. If your spirit somehow…lingers. But if it does, then it means maybe…maybe Irene does, too. And maybe you’re with your daughter. Your first. And sometimes…it helps to imagine that. To know that if there’s any justice in this world, you’re with our babies. And because of that, I’m going to be here for yours.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. “I know you wouldn’t want me to be angry all the time, but I can’t stop it. I can’t stop being furious with myself, with Kristina, Mom, the world — with Dante, and even with you. With everything. It’s supposed to get easier. Everyone says that. But it’s not. I don’t understand why this keeps happening. I couldn’t have a baby, I didn’t even get to have Irene, and now I don’t have you. And I don’t have Kristina. It’s not fair.” She swiped at her cheeks. “I sound like a petulant child, don’t I? Screaming at the sky about how life isn’t fair. I know it’s not. I don’t expect it to be, and yet — I still find myself surprised anyway. I don’t know how people get the courage to keep going, to keep opening themselves open. To keep being hurt. I don’t know if I can be that brave.”
She waited — for what, she didn’t really. For the wind to stir, for the leaves to rustle, for some sign from the universe, from Sam, that she was listening. But there was none.
Because life wasn’t fair.
Webber House: Living Room
“All that food,” Jake grumbled, dropping on the sofa, “and we gotta eat Mama Mangione’s—”
“It could be worse,” Cameron said, leaning forward to snag a slice from the box on the coffee table. “You could be stuck in California where they keep saying it’s New York style, but it’s a goddamn lie.”
“You’ll stop complaining tomorrow when we get to the Quartermaines and you can eat everything Aiden’s been cooking,” Elizabeth said, setting down a stack of napkins, and sitting next to Jake on the sofa.
“Unless Dad and Cam blow us up first,” Danny said, dropping to the floor by the coffee table, reaching for his own pizza.
“No danger of that — we’re not letting you help,” Cam shot back, tossing a pepperoni at him.
“Don’t start—” Elizabeth held up her hand, then waited for Jason to join them. He handed her the stack of plastic cups, and sat in the arm chair. “I’m glad we could get you guys in one room, just us, before tomorrow.”
“That sounded sus,” Aiden said. He looked at Jake. “Mom’s up to something.”
“It’s not—I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. We don’t have a lot of time before they start agitating each other or us,” Elizabeth told Jason, who understood the signal.
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “Dante came by earlier to talk about after the holidays. When Drew goes to DC.”
“Drew Q for U actually worked,” Jake said with a shake of his head. “God people are stupid.”
“Am I allowed to say I didn’t vote for him?” Cameron wanted to know.
“Not tomorrow, or that’ll be the reason we don’t get dinner,” Elizabeth said. “And Drew’s election isn’t the point, so stop interrupting.”
“Sorry.” But Cameron grinned because he was not, in fact, sorry at all.
“Right now, Danny’s been spending the weekends with Scout at the Quartermaines,” Jason continued, and held up a hand when Danny sat up, alarmed. “That’s not changing. It’s good for your grandmother to see you both,” he told his son. “But with Drew out of town for weeks and months a time, they’re worried about Scout.”
“She could come here,” Jake volunteered. “Right? Is that the question?”
“Yes. Scout would stay here with us during the week,” Jason said. “I know that’s a lot to ask—”
“Not really,” Aiden said. “Danny can stay with me, can’t he?”
Danny, his heart beating fast at the thought of being able to basically live with his sister full-time again, sat up a bit straighter. “Yeah. You already got bunk beds.”
“And Cam’s already with me when he’s around,” Jake said. “So we’ll just give his room to Scout.” He made a face. “We might need to fumigate it though—ow!” He got a whack from Cameron.
“I don’t know why—I guess I thought it would be a bigger conversation,” Elizabeth said, slowly. She bit her lip, looked at Jason. “But I guess their answer is yes.”
“Really?” Danny asked. “That wouldn’t be too much?”
“After the four of you,” Elizabeth said wryly, “adding Scout would probably feel like a vacation.”
Update Link: You’re Not Sorry – Part 115
Hello! Apologies for not updating yesterday! I picked up a day subbing at summer school which wasn’t supposed to interfere with updating in the evening, but my sister asked me to go out to dinner with my nieces and see Toy Story 5, and apologies my loves, but my girls always take precedence. The movie was perfect, I laughed, I cried. Just a really sweet story.
I’ll be back tonight at 5 to catch up with part I missed for The Archer 🙂
Written in 59 minutes.
Tuesday, October 7, 2024
Molly & TJ’s Apartment
“Oh, no, don’t—” Alexis laid her hand on the door frame, banking that Molly wouldn’t want to break her mother’s fingers and slam the door anyway.
Molly scowled, but stopped the door halfway, gripping the edge so tightly her knuckles were white. “You have two minutes. I have to go to work.”
“Then I’ll get right to the point. I filed paperwork to withdraw from Kristina’s case yesterday.”
Molly inhaled sharply, her other hand curling tightly into a fist at her side. She hadn’t expected that — she really hadn’t. She’d been watching her sister’s case docket like a hawk, and when Alexis had filed her notice of appearance last Friday, it hadn’t even hurt. Molly had nothing left that could be touched, no sense of any feeling toward her family — toward the sister that had put Molly’s daughter and oldest sister in the ground, or toward the mother who’d let it happen.
Molly took a deep breath. “Not defending her isn’t enough. There are other ways you could let her off the hook, and I don’t trust you not to do them—”
“Molly—”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Mom. I really don’t. You had chance after chance to take someone else’s side, to tell Kristina she was wrong. You think you’re going to get credit for getting off the train? It’s already crashed. It’s over. Sam is dead.”
Alexis flinched, and there was a small twinge of regret deep within. Molly wouldn’t turn into her sister, wouldn’t become a callous creature who only cared about herself.
She deliberately softened her tone. “You know that Sam made me the executor of her estate when you were…” She bit her lip. Indisposed. Drunk. “And she never changed it. I’m not going to stop you from being part of her services. Or at the will reading. Or anything else. That’s not what this is. I’m not even telling you that we won’t be able to grieve together. I just—” She shook her head, stared at the hand still gripping the door. “I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t sit by Kristina’s side and let her get away with destroying others.” Tears stung her eyes, and she scowled, angry that her body was betraying her, forcing tears on her when she was so angry. “It’s been too much, Mom. Six weeks ago, I buried my daughter. And now I’m going to bury my sister. I have nothing left to give any of you.”
This time, when Molly tried to close the door, Alexis stepped back, and let her.
Penthouse: Hallway
Jake jingled the keys in his hand as they stepped off the elevator. The top floor of the penthouse was eerily silent. He hadn’t been here since his father had gone to Greece, and he’d rarely spent the nights here anyway even when his father had lived here. It had always been Sam’s place, where Danny lived.
His brother stood next to him, staring at the closed door. “The last time I was here,” Danny said slowly, “was the day Mom got into a fight with your mom.”
“We don’t have to do this—”
“It’s—” Danny looked at his brother. “I have to do this. I—I wake up every day and I think it’s not real. It doesn’t feel real. And I think about Dad. He came back, didn’t he? Twice.”
Because they’d never had a body to bury, but Jake understood. After he had died, too, hadn’t he? With a body to bury and everything.
“Coming here won’t change that—”
“They’re not gonna let me see Mom. I don’t even have to ask.” Danny fisted his hands. “They’re not going to let me see her until they make her look like herself, like she’s just sleeping, but I just—” He looked at his brother. “If I don’t go inside, maybe it’s not real. Maybe she’s in there. I don’t know. I just—I don’t feel anything.”
“Danny.”
“Nothing. I just sit in Cam’s room, all empty and tired, just staring at the floor. Or I—” Danny’s voice faltered. “I wake up everyday and I have to remember it. And I don’t feel it. Shouldn’t I feel worse? Shouldn’t I feel broken? Shouldn’t I be crying? Or screaming? Something. My mom—” He stopped, swallowed. “My mom is dead. Isn’t she?”
Maybe he was right, Jake thought. Maybe there was a piece of Danny that still didn’t believe. He didn’t know what going into the penthouse, into Sam’s domain, would help. But this was his brother, and Jake was going to help him.
“Then let’s go in and see what’s up.”
Danny twisted the key in the lock, pushing the door open, then stood in the doorway, staring at the sofa angled in front of the fire place, the dining table tucked between the stairs and the terrace. There was a blanket and a pillow on the sofa, shoes near the coffee table. A few glasses sat on top the surface, an empty bowl.
Danny went forward, slowly, staring at the blanket, at the pillow. “Do you think she was sleeping down here?”
“Maybe,” Jake said, shoving his hands into his pockets, uncomfortable with the well of pity he had for a woman he’d disliked, even hated. But it was sad to think that Danny’s mother, in her final days, had felt so lonely, she’d been sleeping on her own sofa. There was a laundry basket behind the sofa, with a pair of jeans half in, a pair of sweat pants slung over a nearby table.
Had she been avoiding the entire second floor? Jake wondered. Living, eating, sleeping, changing downstairs to stay away from her children’s empty bedrooms?
Danny lowered himself slowly onto the sofa, staring at the bowl, with bits of cereal flakes stuck to the side, long since dried. It had been nearly a week since his mother had been here, not quite long enough to build up layers of dust, but enough to for the air to feel stifled. Trapped.
“I didn’t know…” Danny didn’t look up, didn’t meet Jake’s eyes. “I didn’t know that it would be the last time I’d be here. We came down stairs. Rocco and me. And Mom and Dante were on the sofa.” He looked at Jake, his eyes glittering. “We wanted to trick them into letting us go to Aiden’s, so I…used your mom. I knew it would work. I knew…I knew just how to push her buttons.”
“She didn’t make it hard,” Jake said, then winced. “Look, that’s the job of a kid to know how to get what they want. I figured out pretty quick that the thing my mom wanted most was for me and Dad to have a good relationship. So if I wanted to go to a baseball game, I’d just bring up asking Dad, and she’d jump on it. And I also knew the quickest way to tick her off was to insult Dad. Or one of my brothers. You’re not an asshole because you knew how to play your mom.”
“If we’d stayed home, it’d all be different. No one would know…” Danny folded his arms around himself. “No one would know about me and Rocco. No one would take Scout away. Mom and Liz wouldn’t have gotten so mad—”
“That’s not why your mom is gone, Danny,” Jake said flatly, and Danny looked at him, startled. “Kristina had already framed my mom, remember? That was over and done, and had nothing to do with your mom. And Kristina tried to get my mom’s bail taken away. She was always going keep trying to hurt my mom. You, me, Rocco, Aiden — none of us mattered. And your mom was probably pissed. I read in the papers that your mom suspected Kristina of the murder, too. It was some sort of recording. You want someone to blame? Don’t look in the mirror. Look somewhere else on the family tree.”
“But she only had me as a weapon because—”
“So what? Dude. You might have given her ammunition by being an asshole, but your aunt pulled the trigger. Literally and figuratively. And the way I hear it, everyone else blaming themselves is why she got away with it for so long. You know what I think? Maybe we make it our business to show up at every single one of her hearings and court things so she has to look at you every time she tries to pretend she’s not an evil bitch.”
Danny stared for another long moment at the cereal bowl, then got to his feet. “Yeah, okay. Okay.” He swiped awkwardly at his eyes. “I don’t want to be here anymore. Let’s go.”
District Attorney’s Suite: Robert’s Office
Robert heard the voices before his door opened — the muffled voice of his assistant and the unmistakable tone of his ex-wife, raising above it. Then she was in his face, her cheeks flushed, eyes glittering. “What is this supposed to mean?” she demanded, striding towards him, slapping a paper on his desk.
“Ah.” He slid on his reading glasses, though he knew precisely what it was. He’d written it after all. “Informing you that I’ve appointed a special prosecutor to work with a grand jury to investigate the Pikeman incident.”
“The Pikeman incident,” Anna repeated. “What, precisely, does that mean?”
“I thought it was rather clear—” Robert looked again. “An audit of the investigation, inquiring precisely how Valentin Cassadine was able to abscond from justice under the PCPD’s noses.” He lifted his brows. “Is there some clarification you’d like me to make?”
“You have a lot of nerve coming after me like that. You’re not particularly innocent, now are you?” Anna demanded. “Or do I have to remind you what we’ve done while working for the WSB? Or what we did to Faison? We locked him away to rot on Spoon Island—”
Robert slowly got to his feet, and Anna stopped, her lips pressed firmly together. “First of all, when we were conducting investigations for the WSB, I generally stayed within the limits. And Faison? Anna, that was about protecting our daughter. Or had you forgotten Faison stole her away from us? Faked her death? Masqueraded as Duke Lavery for months, once again, under your nose?” he demanded. “Whom precisely were you protecting when you warned Valentin that the FBI was coming after him?”
“You have no evidence that I did any such thing,” Anna said, lifting her chin.
“Really?” Robert tipped his head. “You swore an oath to the PCPD, to your officers. Valentin, as the head of Pikeman was responsible for the shooting of Curtis Ashford, for Dante Falconieri, and those are just the two incidents we can tie him to in our jurisdiction. He nearly killed one of your men, Anna.”
“That—” Anna stopped shook her head.
“Was an accident? He was aiming for someone else? His mercenaries were willing to kill to get away. He sent them here.”
Anna folded her arms. “You won’t be able to prove anything. There’s no evidence, no reason for anyone to tell you anything—”
“You mean, no reason for Jason Morgan to tell me anything,” Robert finished. “He might have to get these charges dropped against Elizabeth. I’m willing to bet that I can convince him to cooperate. It’s the right thing to do. He gave up two years of his life to find that name, after all.”
Anna shook her head. “It won’t happen.”
“Well, maybe my special prosecutor has some thoughts.” He pressed a button on his desk. “Judy, can you send in Ms. Campbell?”
“Ms. Campbell—” Anna turned, looked at the doorway. “You work for the U.S. Attorney—”
“Oh—” Gia leaned against the door frame. “I’ve decided to return to my roots. To the place where I fell in love with the law. And reunite with some old friends since I was helped exonerate her.” Her lips curved into a smile. “And Commissioner Devane, I’m particularly looking forward to getting to know you.”
Webber House: Living Room
“Maybe we should have gone with them,” Elizabeth said, pacing in front of the windows, peering through them to the street, hoping to see Jake’s car pulling up. She looked back at Jason, sitting on the sofa, reviewing some paperwork from the warehouse. “I’m such a hypocrite. Yesterday, I was on board with letting him figure it out for himself—”
Jason got to his feet, crossed to her, and took her hands. “It’s hard to sit back and do nothing. Diane told me to let the system work for you, and I wasn’t allowed to punch anyone for answers. That was good advice.”
“Annoying advice,” Elizabeth muttered, but forced herself to smile. “It’s just—going home for the first time—” At the sound of a car, she whirled back to the windows, then made a face. “It’s not them. It’s—” She straightened. “It’s Alexis.”
Jason grimaced. “If she’s here about Kristina—”
“What would she even ask us?” Elizabeth wanted to know. “I’m sure the Feds are already trying to figure out how to throw more charges at her about what she did to me. Or pressuring her to turn on her father.” She bit her lip. “You don’t think that she’s going to do that, do you?”
“I don’t think she knows anything that would matter, but—” Jason pulled open the door at Alexis’s knock. “You should be talking to Diane.”
“I come in peace.” Alexis put up her hands. “It’s not—It’s not about any of that. It’s about Danny.”
Jason relaxed, but only slightly, stepping back enough to allow Alexis entry into the house. “He’s not here. He went with Jake to the penthouse.”
“The penthouse? Oh. That—I haven’t gone there yet. I don’t—” Alexis closed her eyes, took a deep bracing, breath. “There’s nothing I can say to either of you that encompasses how I feel. I could tell you that I’m sorry, that I feel responsible for all of it, and I do. But it wouldn’t be enough. It won’t ever be enough.”
“There’s nothing any of us can do to change the past,” Elizabeth said. “And yours isn’t the apology we want.”
“I don’t want or need an apology. It wouldn’t change anything,” Jason said, and Alexis nodded.
“Of course. And I told you I’m not here about Kristina. I’ve withdrawn from her case. I need to focus on my grandchildren. And what’s best for them. I wanted to talk to you about Danny. And Scout.”
Update Link: You’re Not Sorry – Part 114
Happy Wednesday! I’m so glad I took a little break from writing You’re Not Sorry to properly set up an ending. Sometimes you just need some space to see things a bit clearly I reread the first 200 pages or so, and that really helped me get back into head space. Right now, there are three parts planned — today, Friday, and Monday. But I don’t know how long each of my planned scenes will take to write, so that may stretch into more updates if necessary.
See you tomorrow around 5!
Written in 80 minutes. The final scene just took forever to finish or get right, sorry!
Monday, October 7, 2024
Port Charles Courthouse: Court Room
“Court is in recess.”
BANG
Kristina jolted when the judge’s gavel came down, her face white. She turned to her mother, sitting stone-faced at the table next to her. “What does that mean? What does that mean? Where—” A bailiff came forward, reaching for her arm. Kristina jerked it away and the bailiff scowled, reached for it again, this time with a tighter grip, yanking her out of her seat. “Mom! Ow, that hurts—”
“Kristina, don’t—” Behind them, in the front row of the gallery, Sonny was on his feet. “Don’t resist, you’ll just make it worse.”
“Where are you taking me—ow—” Kristina squirmed when the bailiff yanked both hands behind her back, fastening the cuffs around her wrists. “Mom, Dad—”
“Port Charles has officially ceded jurisdiction of the case to the federal government.” Alexis’s calm tone, blank expression might have suggested a lack of caring, but anyone who was looking closely would see her fingers trembling as she shuffled papers and folders, packing things back into her brief case. “Your lawyer will be in touch once the transfer is completed.”
“Mom, wait, wait—” Kristina’s protests faded when the bailiff pulled her back, and disappeared behind a door.
Alexis closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at Sonny. “You’ll need to find her a lawyer. I can give you a few names, but I can’t—I can’t do this anymore—”
She lifted the case and was halfway out the door before Sonny could absorb the words, understood what he was being told. He hurried after her, taking two steps for every one of her longer strides toward the elevator.
“Alexis—what the hell—”
“I’m going back to the office and drawing up the withdrawal motion.” Alexis stepped inside the car, and Sonny followed, sure that if he wasn’t quick that she would abandon him, and end the conversation.
“Okay. Okay, let’s just talk about this—”
“There’s nothing to talk about it. I can’t do this. I can’t sit in court and I can’t defend her.” When the elevator beeped, indicating they’d hit the ground floor, Alexis walked out.
“Damn it. This deserves a conversation. You can’t just walk out on her like this—” Sonny closed his mouth when the first flash of camera hit, when the blinding lights of the local news cameras hit his eyes. He scowled, took Alexis by the elbow and pulled her towards the parking lot. “Goddamn vultures,” he bit out.
He didn’t attempt to continue the conversation again until they were in his car, Alexis on one side of the limo, against the driver’s seat, clutching her briefcase like it was a lifesaver keeping her aloft in the water. “I know the last week has been the worst of your life—”
“My daughter is dead, Sonny. My daughter. Sam is dead.” Alexis met his gaze, her eyes hard. “We haven’t even buried her yet. They haven’t released her body because they’re still investigating. Kristina could still face local charges the accident—”
“They can’t prove anything—”
Alexis just shook her head, looked out the window closer to her, her jaw clenched.”I didn’t believe her. I knew Kristina was involved, but I couldn’t believe Sam hadn’t been part of it. Hadn’t somehow masterminded all of it. I didn’t believe her, and now, I will never be able to fix that. Danny—” Alexis looked back to Sonny. “Danny had to listen to his mother say goodbye to him, terrified for her life. Scout will never see her mother again. And all of it — all of it — is on Kristina. Molly won’t speak to me because I didn’t do right by her months ago. I made Kristina the priority. I—” She shook her head, couldn’t continue.
“Alexis, you can’t blame yourself—”
“Who else can I blame? Who wrote the custody papers?”Alexis challenged, and Sonny grimaced. “I can’t keep doing it, Sonny. I can’t stand next to her in that court and fight for her freedom when I don’t believe she should have it. She started it all. She murdered that man, put Elizabeth and her kids through hell—” She pressed her lips together. “I can’t even talk about why. But I can’t stand next to her, Sonny. You can, and that’s fine. But I won’t do it.”
Sonny exhaled slowly, rubbed his chin. “I saw Jason this morning. Before court,” he told her, and Alexis looked at him. “Do you know he’s not even angry with me? Or you? Not angry. Not disappointed. He just looked—” He squinted. “He looked done. With me. Not just the business, but with all of it. He thinks I would have taken Kristina out of the country, let Elizabeth take her chances with the jury.”
Alexis lifted her brows. “And he’s right, isn’t he? If we’d known before the accident — I would have helped you. Maybe even gone with her. But she was going to let Sam take the fall for trying to sabotage Elizabeth’s bail. Permanently damage Sam’s relationship with her son. Kristina was willing to do that. I thought—I thought I’d raised my girls better than that.” She leaned back against the seat. “I’ve failed every single one of them. I have to figure out how to hold on to what I have left. You do what you want, Sonny. But I can’t help her anymore.”
General Hospital: Fletcher’s Office
Dr. Fletcher settled into his seat across from Jason and Elizabeth, sitting next to each other on the small sofa. “I know you were hoping that I could see Danny today, but it’s more important, I think, for us to have a conversation before I can see him. To understand how he’s handling this so far.”
“He’s not,” Jason said, and Elizabeth reached for his hand, laced their fingers together. He squeezed it in return, then returned his attention to the doctor. “He’s mostly stayed in his room. He talks to his sister every day, but I only know that because of what I hear from my nephew, Michael.”
“From your nephew? Not her father?” Fletcher pressed.
“That’s—we don’t get along,” Jason said simply. “It’s simpler to go through Michael.”
“He’s playing video games, mostly,” Elizabeth offered. “He’ll go to Aiden’s room or they’ll use a headset, sometimes. Aiden won’t say how it’s going, but I guess that’s a good sign.”
Fletcher made some notes. “He’s talked about Aiden during his sessions. It’s good that he’s in contact with the people in his usual circle. Is he eating?”
“Not as much as usual, but yes. He comes down for dinner,” Elizabeth said. “But I don’t see him for the other meals.”
“He comes down during the night,” Jason said. “I hear him moving around, but I haven’t—I haven’t gone to talk to him. I thought I’d let him decide how much contact he wants.”
“I’m just so worried that he’s feeling guilt or taking blame on himself. Jason told you about the call he got from Sam, right?” Elizabeth asked. When the doctor nodded, she continued, “He let the first call go to voicemail. And she tried to talk to him earlier that day. Jake told me he’s going over every moment they’ve had, thinking about what he wasted.”
“That’s normal. We don’t want him to get locked in that, but I’d be more worried if he didn’t feel some measure of guilt,” Fletcher said. “It’s natural when you lose someone suddenly, you think about the state of the relationship. But Danny feels a heavy dose of responsibility for his sister, for his friends and family—”
“But I don’t want him to think he has to be okay for any of them,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t want him to put on a mask or feel like he can’t talk to us. Or feel his grief. And I really don’t want him to think I’m trying to replace his mother.” Jason squeezed her hand, knowing that she was thinking of the grief she’d experienced when she was a little older than Danny, after the fire over the garage.
“It’ll be hard to avoid all of those things. You’re doing everything right. You’re letting him be alone, to choose his level of contact. But the time is going to come when he’ll crash. When he’ll break and the walls will come down. There’s no way to predict when that will happen.” Fletcher paused. “And if I’m correct, Danny’s grief has another layer. He’s lost his mother, and he’s learned that the anger he felt towards her was misplaced. That his aunt is responsible for what happened to you, Elizabeth. And that she played a role in his mother’s death. It’s a heavy wight for any one, much less a teenager. At this point, this early? We’ll need to take our cues from Danny, and take the situation as it comes.”
District Attorney’s Suite: Robert’s Office
Robert removed his reading glasses, set them down when he saw Molly at his door. “I hope you’re not here to protest the transfer of your sister’s case.”
“Oh.” Molly furrowed her brows, came fully into the office, folding her arms. “I didn’t know that was happening. I just—you told Jack not to assign me more cases, and I wanted to tell you it wasn’t necessary.” She bit her lip. “You transferred Kristina’s case?”
“Yes. While I don’t believe Agent Cates was killed in the line of duty, I think for everyone’s sake, it’s best if this office isn’t handling the trial.” He paused. “Your sister is being transferred to federal custody as we speak.”
“I hope to the same jail where Elizabeth was held,” Molly said. She lifted her chin. “It’s the least she deserves.”
“I can’t pretend to know what you’re dealing with, Molly. Perhaps you should take some time—”
“No. No,” Molly repeated when her first denial seemed to harsh. “No,” she said a third time. “I need the distraction. I need something else to think about. Work—it’s the only thing that makes it go away. Makes it stop for a little a while.”
Robert gestured at the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat. Please,” he added when she hesitated. When she’d taken the seat, he continued, “I’ll agree to keep you on active cases under one condition. No trials. I’ll have Jack assign you cases that are pleading out or likely to. And anything that seems like it might be going to court, pass the case. Just for a few weeks,” he added.
Molly made a face, but nodded. “Okay, that’s fair. I need something to distract me, but I don’t want someone’s life on the line.” She paused. “Did…did the accident report come back yet? Do…do they know what happened to Sam’s car?”
Robert sifted through some open files, pulled out from a stack and opened. “The preliminary report is done, but they’re still examining the car for any mechanical failures. Detective Chase was following the car — said it appeared to swerve across the median, then went over the embankment and rolled.”
“Swerved like Sam lost control of the car? Like someone tried to grab the wheel?” Molly asked tightly.
“The timeline does appear to match the phone call recording Damien Spinelli surrendered to the office.”
“Will you charge Kristina?” Molly demanded. “She killed my sister—”
“Is that you want?” Robert wanted to know. “And before you answer,” he said, “I want you to think about what it would mean for us to charge Kristina with some sort of manslaughter charge. Danny would be a witness. He’d have to give a formal statement about the phone calls from his mother. We’d be putting your mother—”
“We don’t play favorites,” Molly said flatly. “We don’t think about any of that when we try other cases, do we? We don’t think about the witnesses or the people who might be hurt? We look at the law. And the law says if you cause a car accident that leads to someone’s death, if you do it deliberately, you deserve to be punished.” She got to her feet. “Charge her or don’t. But don’t use my nephew as an excuse to let Kristina get away with murder.”
Elm Street Pier
The water was choppy, and storm clouds were in the horizon, a dark gray swirl looming out over the lake. Another storm would reach them by night fall, but for now, it was safe to walk on the docks, to sit on the bench, and to avoid returning to real life just a little longer.
Elizabeth curled her hands more tightly around her hot chocolate.”I don’t think there’s anywhere else in Port Charles that feels more like home to me than these docks,” she murmured. She looked at Jason. “I slept under these docks once, I told you that, didn’t I?”
“When you ran away with Lucky, right?”
“Mmm. Drove my grandmother crazy that spring. I thought running away would mean we didn’t have to go to school, but Lucky made us go anyway.” Her lips curved in slight smile. “He’d break some rules, but he cared about getting an education, I guess. He was strange that way.” She slid an arm through Jason’s. “I’m sorry. I know you were hoping Fletcher would have more advice. Something real we could do for Danny.”
“I don’t like doing nothing,” Jason acknowledged, but then he sighed. “But sometimes that’s the answer. You can’t do everything for your kids.”
“If we don’t let them stumble through life a little, then you end up like Sonny and Alexis, I guess,” Elizabeth said, and winced. “That’s probably not fair. I’m sorry—”
“Why? It’s the truth.” He paused. “I saw Sonny this morning. Before our appointment. He thought we needed to clear the air.”
“That must have been…awkward.”
“I don’t know what he expected from me,” Jason admitted. “When he and Alexis realized Kristina was involved in all of this, he didn’t come to me. He didn’t go to you. Or Diane. They were on their way to Kristina. To fix it. He’d have put her on the plane to the island, and that would have been the end of it. He’d have let Diane use Kristina as an alternative suspect with the jury, and hoped you’d be acquitted. And to him, that would have been good enough.”
“It probably would have been,” Elizabeth said softly. “Diane was going over it with me. She fit all the evidence even better than I did. An actual motive, the right height. Even without the security footage or wiretap.”
“He was willing to gamble with your life. Your freedom, Elizabeth. He’d never have gambled with Carly’s this way,” Jason told her. “He was willing to put you and the boys through a trial, knowing the truth.”
“Jason—” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I’m not going to tell you it doesn’t disappoint me, because it does. But—no, listen to me—” she said, when Jason shook his head, started to move away. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable condemning him for something he didn’t actually do. Yes, maybe he would have put Kristina on a plane. But how long did he actually know for sure what she did? An hour? The length of the car ride? You’re going to throw out a lifetime of friendship for what he might have done? Would it have been so easy for you to choose? To choose your friend over your own child?” she pressed.
“I—” Jason paused. “I thought he was my family,” he confessed. “Even after all of this. Because I did choose my friend over my family. I let you all think I was dead—”
“You didn’t just choose Carly. You chose our whole life,” Elizabeth reminded him. “It wasn’t Carly on murder charges. It was RICO. You remember what you said to me weeks ago. They would have torn apart the finances, and everyone Sonny or you had ever donated money to, spent money on — the hospital, the hotel, Deception, ELQ — all of our lives would have been changed. You made a sacrifice for all of us, Jason. Not just Carly. Because if anything, this entire disaster has made it very clear — the FBI doesn’t play fair. Or straight.”
“I know that’s true—”
“Other people want to make it sound like you chose Carly over your sons, and that’s fine for them. If Sonny wants to think of it that way, if Carly does — but I won’t let you forget that you were protecting all of us. Do I hate it? Do I wish you hadn’t gone? Of course. Of course I’m angry at you for being gone, for putting Jake through it. But the why matters for me, Jason. And I won’t apologize for that.”
“Okay. Okay,” he repeated when her scowl didn’t change. He slid slightly so that they were facing each other. “I’m not trying to talk you into being angry at me—”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I just—the scope of sacrifice isn’t nearly the same. Because you wanted to protect all of us. Carly just happened to benefit directly. Sonny would have protected his daughter from a mess she created and made worse. Kristina should have come to him or to you, and you’d have fixed it. She chose to burn down our lives, and destroy her own sister. I can’t fathom what Sonny and Alexis are dealing with, to look at the little girl they raised, and loved and, yes, coddled and spoiled. To realize what she grew up to be. What they must have been thinking that night.”
Jason sighed, looked down at their intertwined hands. “All of that is true. I know it.”
“I’m not trying to talk you out of being angry with Sonny or Alexis. I’m sorry if that’s what it sounds like. And I was furious with them the night this happened. It’s just…I can’t hold on to my anger when I think of Alexis, putting Sam in the ground, knowing that Kristina put her there. To think of Sonny, trying to navigate the horror I know he must feel at what Kristina did — and to know that he’s blaming himself, for the life and world he raised her in, feeling responsible for it. I just don’t know if I have it in me to feel anything but sorry for them.” Her lips curved slightly. “But I always forgive too easily. You know that.”
“I do.” He put an arm around her shoulders, brought her close so he could kiss her forehead, feel the warmth of her body against his. “And I know you’re right. You are. And I’m not even that angry with either of them. I think it’s just…I don’t understand how we got here,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to do with any of it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I’m not very supportive right now, am I?”
“You’re fine,” Jason told her, squeezing her hand again. “There’s no right or wrong answer to any of this, I guess.” He got to his feet, pulled her up with him. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Update Link: The Archer – Part 6
I am dragging so hard today, and it’s really my own fault. The Phillies had a rain delay, so they didn’t play until 8:15, and I stayed up until they lost (boo), but I didn’t actually manage to get to sleep until almost 1. I should have gone to bed as soon as the game was over. I woke up late, and I’ve felt off all day. Plus, I’m super behind on where I wanted to be in my curriculum writing because I basically lost yesterday thanks to the electric going out, and all my notes saved on Google. Ugh.
ANYWAY. Here’s your update for today 🙂
Written in 55 minutes.
Sunday, October 15, 2000
Kelly’s: Dining Room
Elizabeth swirled a straw in her orange juice, and wrinkled her nose. “For the last week, I don’t think I’ve left this place for more than a few hours. But at least I’m finally done doing penance for no showing when we went to Canada.”
Across the table, she heard nothing more of a grunt in response. Lucky seemed intent on cutting his French Toast into bite size pieces that were uniform in size because he kept slicing them into smaller and smaller bits.
She cleared her throat, then played with the remnants of her straw wrapper. She knew what conversation they needed to have, and she knew what the outcome of that conversation needed to be. They need to come to an understand about their relationship, and how it would fit into the future she envisioned for herself.
This would be so much easier if she had a better handle of the future Lucky envisioned. What did he want? What were his dreams? Was there a way she could start with that? She bit her lip, then took a deep breath. “How are things with your dad?”
Lucky jerked a shoulder. “I quit.”
“Oh.” Dead end, obviously. “How was dinner last night? I haven’t seen Lulu in a while. How’s school?”
“Don’t know. I don’t know if we got into it.” Lucky finally lifted his head, squinted at her. “Are you really not going to say anything?”
“About what?” she asked. “About your sister?”
“No.” He dropped his utensils, the fork and knife clattering to the table and hitting the side of the plate with a clink of metal against crockery. “You couldn’t wait to ask me about the bruises yesterday, and now you’re pretending they’re not there.”
“I’m not pretending.” Elizabeth folded her arms in front of her. “I asked you yesterday, and you decided not to answer. Also…” She tipped her head. “I know where they came from. You and Jason got into a fight at Jake’s.”
“I knew. I knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.” Lucky scowled, sat back, almost sprawling in the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, one arm slung along the back of the chair. “He ran right over to you, didn’t?”
“No,” she drew out, “I ran into him last night on the docks. Whatever you guys have going on, it’s between the two of us. You don’t need to answer to me.” She sighed. “Lucky, I really don’t care. He said you threw the first punch, and then told me he said something to make you hit him. So you’re both at fault as far as I’m concerned, and it’s still not my problem—”
“You know he’s hanging around right?” Lucky cut in, and she made another face. “He’s not leaving. Why do you think that is?”
“I—because of Emily,” Elizabeth said. “She was just kidnapped, and that case isn’t even over—”
“He’s hanging around for you.”
Elizabeth paused, frowned at him. “What?”
“He must still think he’s got a shot with you. You told him, didn’t you, that we’re back together? He knows that you’re mine, doesn’t he?”
Now it was Elizabeth who sat back, folding her arms tightly across her chest, unsure what to say, how to continue the conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And it’s not really why I wanted to have breakfast today—”
“Why am I not surprised you want to change the subject, huh? You don’t want to talk about Jason anymore?”
“I didn’t bring him up in the first place,” Elizabeth retorted. She threw her napkin on the table, got to her feet, reaching for her purse looped over the back of the chair at the same time. “You know what, come find me when you’re in a better mood.”
She barely reached the edge of the courtyard before Lucky’s arm snatched her elbow and pulled her back to face him. Her heart racing, Elizabeth shoved him back without thinking. “Don’t grab me like that!”
Lucky put both his hands up in a mock surrender. “I’m sorry. I lost my temper. Let’s just—let’s start over.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re in a bad mood, which means this conversation is going to go nowhere.” Elizabeth folded her arms again, pressure building behind her eyes, her throat beginning to feel tight. “You’re mad at me, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“Nothing—nothing.” Lucky let out an impatient breath, scrubbed both hands down his face. “Nothing,” he repeated, and this time his tone sounded more like the Lucky she knew. The Lucky she’d loved. “I’m just pissed at myself, okay? I went off on my dad, and quit. My mother offered me a job, and so did Nikolas, and I told them both to go to hell because it’s nothing but charity at this point. You all feel sorry for me, and I hate it.”
She softened, then bit her lip. “We’ve been through so much, Lucky. Separately, when you were gone. And since you’ve been back. And I’m a guilty as anyone else, you know. Expecting that just having you home would be like magic, that it could all go back to the way it used to be.”
“It was all I thought about while I was gone. At first,” he added. “Before they started…” Lucky cleared, his eyes shifting away. “Before I wasn’t in control anymore. I thought about you, and I kept telling myself that I needed to get back to you. It was the only thing I had to hold on to. Getting home to you.” He looked at her, and there was so much of her Lucky that she almost couldn’t breathe.
“But we can’t go back,” she forced herself to say. “Because we’re not those people anymore, Lucky. For months, I could barely function, I could barely think of anything except for you. I didn’t go to New York. I pretended to smile, I pretend to live because I didn’t want anyone to worry about me, but I just wanted you to come home—”
“And I did—” Lucky came towards her, as if to embrace her, but Elizabeth took a step back.
“You didn’t. You didn’t come home. For a year, Lucky. I lived in a world without you. And I had to piece myself back together. I did that. I figured out how to survive. I decided who I was going to be. And I was making plans for the rest of my life.”
“Plans that included Jason?” Lucky demanded, that tightness back in his voice.
“No. No. That was—” A fragment of a dream she’d barely begun to even form before Jason had left. “That was not what happened. He was gone, too, Lucky. It was just me. Then Luke told me you were alive, and you were standing in front of me. But you weren’t you. You know that. Do you think it was easy for me these last six months? I know it was the brainwashing,” she said when Lucky opened his mouth. “I know that. But I didn’t. For months, I thought you were playing with my feelings. Pushing me towards Nikolas, pulling back. It was exhausting, Lucky. And painful.”
“It wasn’t me—”
“It was your voice, your face, your body. All of those things are still true, Lucky.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I’m glad that we know why. And it does make a difference that you didn’t want to do those things, but they still happened. And it’s not fair to ask me to pretend like they didn’t. To pretend that you weren’t gone.”
“You didn’t seem to care about any of that when you found out about the brainwashing,” Lucky retorted. “You were happy to jump right back in with me—”
“Because I thought you were back. I thought that it would all go back to the way it used to be. But it hasn’t, Lucky.”
“It’s been a week—”
“I know, and maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all except—I have a decision to make. One that could change my whole life. One that takes me away from you for a little while.”
“A little while? Six months—”
“Two at most. And so what? So what?” Elizabeth demanded. “Why can’t I go and do this amazing thing? You’re not alone here. You could come see me, we’ll call and we’ll write—”
Lucky snorted, shook his head. “So that’s what all of this is about. You just want to run off and play fashion designer. You don’t even give a damn about any of that! What happened to your art?”
“I used to,” Elizabeth said, and he frowned at her. “I used to care a lot. I read every fashion magazine. But you didn’t know that. You don’t know anything about who I was before I was raped.” Tears slid down her cheeks, hot and painful. “You didn’t want to know anything.”
“What was there to know?” Lucky said, with a careless shrug. “You were a brat, and you’d be the first to say so. You were shallow and obsessed with how you looked and getting me to look at you. To get anyone to look at you. That’s not who you are now. You’re a better person.”
She could scarcely speak, could scarcely force out the words, the pain was too stark, the light from the sun above them felt suddenly blinding. “I’m…” She stopped. “I’m a better person because I was raped?”
His eyes went wide. “What? That’s not what I said—” He stepped towards her, but she stepped back again. “Elizabeth, come on. That’s not fair. You grew up—”
“I can’t—I can’t—” She shook her head. You were a brat. Shallow. “I always knew…” She fisted her hand, pressed it against her abdomen as if that would assuage the pain. Brat. Shallow.
What was there to know?
“Elizabeth—”
“I always knew you didn’t like me much,” Elizabeth managed finally, and he scowled. “But I don’t think I realized how much…how much you disliked me. Before. I wasn’t good enough for you.” She looked away, brushed away her tears with the heel of one hand. “I wasn’t good enough for you,” she repeated, looking back at him. “Before.”
“Hey. Come on, you know that’s not what I meant. Elizabeth—”
“I’m a better person now,” Elizabeth repeated. “Now. Before, I was a brat who was obsessed with you.”
Lucky’s tone was gentle. “I don’t want to make you feel embarrassed, okay? Because I knew you had a crush on me—”
“Y-you knew.” Of course he had. She hadn’t really covered it much, but she’d never really—she’d never put it all together. “You knew. When you came to tell me you were going to the dance with my sister instead. You knew I’d asked you…”
“I—” Lucky’s face was pale. He must have started to put the pieces together in his head, maybe he understood the implication of what he’d said. “I guess—”
“I need to go. Okay? I need to—” Elizabeth threw up a hand when he started to follow. “I have to go. Don’t follow me. Don’t come near me. I can’t look at you right now.”
Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room
Sonny closed the door behind Carly, Michael, and the guard he’d sent with them, then turned back to Jason. “Sorry, I, uh, thought they’d be gone before you got here.”
“It’s fine.” Jason folded his arms. “What did you need?”
“I got a call from Paulie—he’s over at the PCPD, working lock up where they’re holding Smith while he’s waiting on trial.” Sonny returned to the breakfast table where the remains of their morning meal still sat, and picked up his half-empty coffee cup. He needed to have something in his hands, something that would occupy him. “Smith is meeting with his lawyer almost daily.”
“He’s facing serious charges. Kidnapping is—I think that’s still twenty-five years, isn’t it?” Jason asked.
“Something like that. I was thinking maybe if we can get Paulie on night shift, we can get him to send a message to Smith. Maybe promise him protection at Pentonville if he turns on Sorel,” Sonny continued. “Problem is I don’t know if I can back up that promise. You—” He winced. “You mostly handled that side.”
“So you need my contact,” Jason said. “Is that it?”
“Yeah. I guess. I thought we should get the deal in place as soon as possible. Or I wouldn’t have asked you over this morning—” Sonny looked at the booster seat with Michael, nearly three, had sat during breakfast. “I wouldn’t keep doing this to you.”
Jason followed his gaze, then grimaced. “Sonny. I told you—” He stopped, and Sonny looked at him, watched as Jason seemed to have some sort of internal discussion with himself. “Look, when I said I forgave you, you didn’t believe me. I know Carly didn’t.”
“How could I? I stole your family—”
“Michael and Carly aren’t possessions,” Jason said gently, and Sonny looked away. “Carly is a person who makes her own choices. And she made hers. And Michael deserves to have people in his life who will love him. But you were right. I didn’t and don’t forgive you. Either of you.”
Elizabeth had been right, Jason thought, seeing the relief flood Sonny’s expression, the muscles in his face seemed to relax. “Forgiving means I accept what you did and why. And I don’t. I won’t,” he added. “But that doesn’t mean I have to be angry about it for the rest of my life.”
“Jase—”
Jason stopped Sonny, holding up his hand. “I’m not angry about it. And I’m not hurt. Not anymore. It happened, and we can’t change it. You and Carly, if you think that being together is what you should do, then okay. Do that. I know you’ll be good for Michael. But we don’t have to do this. I’m not a threat to whatever you want to have with Carly.”
Sonny exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Okay. Okay. I know you said that before, but—”
“You didn’t believe me.”
“I wouldn’t have forgiven you either,” Sonny said, and Jason tipped his head in acknowledgment. “I know things won’t go back to what they were—”
“I don’t expect them to. It’s different now. I also—I need this to be the last time we ever talk about it. I want to be done with it,” Jason said. “If you’re still feeling conflicted, that’s not my problem. So if you can’t handle me being here because I remind you of it, then tell me, and I won’t be here.”
“Simple as that, huh?” Sonny muttered. He took another sip of his coffee, looked at the Port Charles skyline out the penthouse window. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to see what happens.”
