Author Archives: Melissa

September 20, 2017

This entry is part 2 of 3 in the Flash Fiction: Sky is Falling

This was going to have a second scene, but I got halfway through it and hated it. So next time 😛 This is a bit shorter, written in 40 minutes.

It had been two years since he’d been in the same room as Elizabeth Webber, and before then, he could only remember a handful of times he’d run into her since she and his sister had moved back to Port Charles.

Growing up, she had been in and out of his house as often as Emily, but she’d always seemed…so young. He’d been a senior—she and Emily in middle school. He was in his first year at the PCPD when they’d gone to prom. There just…hadn’t been a reason to know her any better.

Until that last year when she’d been assigned to Violent Crimes at the district attorney’s office and had been overseeing the warrants and legal paperwork he’d needed investigating a string of rape-homicides.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as they cross the street to the Starbucks, and then held the door for her. She didn’t look much different. Still short, but the length of chestnut hair he vaguely remembered had been cut to something sharper, just beneath her jawline.

She looked older, but it wasn’t just the hair. The eyes were older. And he couldn’t help but look at her collarbone, where a thin, thin jagged scar snaked out beneath the blue blouse she wore.

“So,” he said as they waited in the order line. “You left the DA’s office.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t—” She lifted a shoulder, but it was a jerky movement—it wasn’t the casual gesture she’d intended. “I needed a more flexible schedule.”

“Yeah.” He ordered a black coffee and his gut twisted as he listened to Elizabeth order a hot chocolate. His sister’s favorite drink, and now, he remembered—it was something they’d had in common.

Jason didn’t think about Emily much these days. He had some photos of her hanging around, and sometimes he mentioned her to his parents or to his former sister-in-law, but he found it easier to just…not think about her.

Drinks in hand, they went outside to the terrace. It was empty this time of day—the change in season had brought a breeze that others weathered inside.

“You left the PCPD,” she said, as if there hadn’t been five minutes of silence as they settled themselves.

“Yeah. Well…my priorities changed.” It had been the last desperate attempt to salvage his marriage. After Emily, his wife Courtney had been…unable to handle the implied danger and threat. If one of Jason’s criminals came after his sister, well wouldn’t she be next?

And since he’d taken a vow, he left the department. It still hadn’t saved their marriage, and now Jason missed the work.

“What do you think they’re going to do with Dillon?” she asked. “I never worked with the Fourth District, but…they didn’t look like they’d let this case go.”

“Yeah, the Fourth has a reputation of being a bit cowboy,” he admitted. He’d worked out of Central, overseen a squadron of detectives. “One of my guys worked there for a while. Their lieutenant is a bit…enthusiastic. Taggart.” He sipped the coffee. “Death of an elderly woman. A young guy accused of it. There’s not a lot to tie him to it, but if those crime scene reports come back without any prints for someone else—”

“His alibi isn’t great. Lucas and Spinelli said they didn’t see him leave, but if they had headsets on—”

“I’ve seen those idiots play. They wouldn’t know if a marching band came through.” Jason exhaled slowly. “They’re not gonna hold.” He flicked his eyes to hers. “Look, after…I left the department and—well, anyway, I’m certificated as private investigator. I mostly work for other law firms. Some insurance work. You’ll need someone. I’ll do it for nothing.”

She bit her lip, said nothing, and sipped her hot chocolate. “We don’t know if we have to worry about any of that,” Elizabeth began.

“If we do.”

“I mean, I’d be stupid to say no,” she admitted. “I doubt Dillon can afford me, much less a PI. And don’t even say it—of course, I’m not charging him. I used to baby sit him and—” She looked away. “He came to the hospital a few times to see me.”

And then Emily was between them again. They’d been able to ignore it while they were talking about Dillon, but the hospital brought it back.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize about—I wanted to back then. It just never felt like the right time, and then you left your job—”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Elizabeth said with a shrug. “Everyone was upset. And it was just…it was bad. And—” She sighed. “It was easier in a lot of ways that your family kind of…”

Abandoned her, but Jason didn’t say it. Elizabeth’s family had left the area while the girls had been in college, and Elizabeth had come back to Port Charles because of Emily.

And after Emily died—

“I moved,” she said. “Robin packed up some of my things. I couldn’t go back. And the DA’s office was kind, but they…couldn’t give me the time off I really needed. So I left and went into private practice. Johnny and I have nearly starved, but it’s starting to get better. My therapist says I have avoidance issues. She wanted me to call you last year on the first—” Elizabeth shook her head. “But I didn’t.”

“I wanted to call you,” he told her. “But I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” He shifted in his seat. “Still, I never should have said it was your fault—”

“It was,” Elizabeth said flatly. “It was mine. It was yours. Because we did our job, and Emily was always the target. That’s why I’m not dead. So yeah, I’d say we each have like one percent responsibility. But that’s it. The rest of it belongs to Diego Alcazar.”

To hear her state the situation so bluntly, to have his thoughts put into words without any attempt soften them—

It shouldn’t have felt reassuring.

“Everyone told me it wasn’t my responsibility,” he said after a moment. “The captain. Hell, the commissioner. My parents. Courtney. It was just the job. The price of doing the work.”

“Our contact information is hidden like that does anything.” She snorted. “He followed me home from work. Had followed me every day for two weeks.”

“You didn’t—” He swallowed the words.

“I didn’t know it then. He told me while he was—” Elizabeth swallowed, looked away. “If I had looked over my shoulder, or watched the cars on the road. Maybe I would have been able to see him. Arrest him. It was my fault for being stupid. For doing a man’s job.” Her voice trembled. “So he wanted to make sure I knew what a woman was good for.”

He wanted to reach across the small metal table, just to to touch her hand. To let her know she wasn’t alone.

“He sent me pictures,” Jason said after a moment, the words forced from his chest. If she could open herself up, the least he could do was offer something in return. “Of…you. Of…Emily. During. After.” He swallowed. “And before. He’d stalked Emily, too. I didn’t know about you.”

“I used to blame you a lot more,” she admitted. “If you could have just found him, arrested him. And that’s not fair,” she added quickly. “You did the best you could. I know what that case was doing to you. How hard you were all working.”

“Didn’t matter.” Jason shoved the coffee aside. “Couldn’t find him then. They took me off the case after. They still—last known confirmed sighting was somewhere in Mexico.”

It had been the worst part of it — to know that the son of bitch who’d butchered his sister and all those other women—that he still had his freedom. That he hadn’t been caught.

“I’ve had to to figure out a way to live with that.” She lifted her chin slightly. “Anyway, all that’s to say is that I never held what you said in the hospital against you. Nothing to apologize for.” She lifted her bag into her lap. “Do you have a number where I can reach you if the PCPD decides to go further against Dillon?”

“Yeah.” He reached into his wallet and dug out of one of his cards. When she put her fingers around it, he didn’t let go right away. Their eyes met. “Thanks for helping Dillon. He’s an idiot, but he’s mine.”

“He was Emily’s,” she said simply. “And now he’s mine, too.”

He released the card. She slid it into the bag and then walked away, crossing the street back to the PCPD parking lot where her car remained. He watched her get in, back up, and then pull into traffic.

September 19, 2017

A few hours ago, I said I’d hoped to have something for you later. This is what I have. I wrote a Micro Fiction Sunday, but by the time I got to the end of it, I knew I wanted to play with it as a longer story. But I didn’t want to put it in an idea log and let it die.

So I’m trying something new. I made a quick outline — setting up characters, who their circles are, the basic elements of the world, and a sort of idea of the endgame. And then I set the clock for sixty minutes and wrote.  I’ll do that once a week and whatever emerges, will be that week’s chapter.

Flash Fiction #11: Sky Is Falling, Chapter 1

If this method works, I may continue doing it after I finish this story. Maybe I’ll do it more than once week, we’ll see. I carved out an hour a day for writing, so I’ll take one of these hours at minimum and give you this chapter. I don’t know what day yet — so we’ll play that by ear and maybe I’ll settle into a routine.

When it’s over, I’ll go back and edit for spelling. Maybe for content, we’ll see. Hope you like it.

This entry is part 1 of 3 in the Flash Fiction: Sky is Falling

I wrote this in 42 minutes, give or take about ten seconds. Not edited for content, spelling, or grammar. Alternate universe and a new version of the short Micro Fiction series, Birthdays and Anniversaries.

When the leaves changed color in upstate New York during the fall and the cafes began stocking pumpkin spice in bulk, not everyone was overjoyed.

In fact, for the last two years, when the short summer season signaled the coming of autumn, Elizabeth Webber considered hibernation. The bears had the right of it.

She’d once been ambivalent about this season — years of going back to school or beginning a new semester at college and later law school never triggered much excitement.

But Halloween and her birthday day after? Those had been holidays to anticipate with glee. She’d once scoured newspapers and internet listings for haunted houses to explore. She and her small group of friends had made it an all night event in college and law school — celebrating the candy filled horror and the passing of another year in life.

And in the two years after law school, when friends had scattered and she’d settled into her job as an assistant district attorney in her hometown of Port Charles, Elizabeth and her long time best friend, Emily Morgan, had created a new tradition.

They’d watch scary movies and hand out candy and sit up all night talking. Catching up with gory stories of Emily’s first year as an intern at General Hospital and Elizabeth’s first foray in the legal system.

Her birthday and Halloween had always seemed like the same holiday to Elizabeth.

Until it was the two days of the year she’d do anything to wipe from the calendar altogether.

She tried not to think about it anymore, and after the first year and therapy, she did an okay job of it.

But this year, the leaves had changed and it was harder to forget.

“Take a vacation,” her other oldest friend, Robin Scorpio, had suggested. “Just get away from Port Charles for a few days.”

“Avoid people and social media,” her boyfriend Patrick had added. “Like the plague.” He seemed to reconsider it for a moment. “You should just do that in general.”

But as September began to slip away and October was just around the corner, Elizabeth had made no plans to leave.

Leaving felt like a defeat. An admission that the last time she’d celebrated Halloween or acknowledged her birthday…it would continue to destroy her life. That the nightmare wasn’t over.

Not that she had much of a life left, she thought to herself as she let herself into the cramped suite of offices she shared with her law partner, Johnny Zacchara. She frowned when she saw that their receptionist, Maxie Jones, wasn’t behind her desk.

“Johnny?” she asked, poking her head into the office next to her own. “Where’s Maxie? Did she call out?”

“No.” Johnny stood, his handsome features twisted into concern. “She’s usually pretty good about opening the place up, but she hasn’t called yet. Should we call her?”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “It’s only nine. Let’s give her a bit more time. Maybe she forgot her phone. Or didn’t set it.”

Her cell began to ring even as she started to cross the tiny lobby to her own office. She dumped her bag on the chair in front of her desk and fished the cell from inside. “Elizabeth Webber.”

“Liz? Oh, my God. You have to come. Right now.”

The panicked words fell on top of one another as Maxie Jones continued to speak, and Elizabeth had difficulty deciphering them.

“Maxie, calm down. Take a breath. Where are you?”

“The police department. Um, I’m at—” There was a moment as her voice was slightly muffled. “The fourth district. Downtown somewhere. They’ve got Dillon.”

“Dillon?” Her pulse picked up. “What do you mean, they’ve got Dillon? Where?” Oh, God.

“In interrogation. They’re threatening to arrest him, he asked for a lawyer and they ignored him or something, and then he managed to convince them to call someone. Georgie called me because of you, but I thought she was insane. Or mistaken. Dillon wouldn’t hurt a fly. So I came here first just to be sure, and holy shit, Liz. They’re holding him for manslaughter, and they’re not listening to me about a lawyer.”

“The Fourth District?” Elizabeth repeated. “Okay. Okay. Breathe. Tell whoever is in charge they’re about to get a fax about representing Dillon and if whatever asshole is questioning my client after he asked for an attorney is interested in getting a boot up his ass.”

Behind her, Johnny had come in, overheard part of the conversation, and was already pulling up something on her computer. Probably the letterhead so he could type the fax.

“Maxie, why didn’t Dillon call Jason?”

“Oh.” Maxie hesitated. “Jason left the department last year, I think. Or something. Maybe Dillon didn’t think to ask. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Jason’s not a lawyer. You are. Come down here and make them let him go.”

“I’ll be right there, Maxie.” She shut her phone and tapped it against her forehead just a moment.

“Or maybe he called Jason, who got the ball rolling to get to you and Maxie isn’t telling you.”

Johnny even tone had her turning with a frown. “There’s no reason not to tell me. Jason and I aren’t…we’re not not talking. We just…haven’t talked.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s been going through a lot in the last two years. His parents moved to Arizona, his brother went to New York. I think Maxie said his marriage fell apart, and apparently he left the department.”

Johnny raised his brow. “And his sister was brutally murdered.”

Her chest squeezed. “Johnny—”

“And you barely survived the same attack.”

“You think I don’t know—”

He rose and set the sheet in the fax machine. “Look, I’m just saying, I get it. You both look at each other as the reason Emily was in the middle of things. Diego Alcazar wanted to swipe at the cop who arrested him and the attorney who was prosecuting them.”

“I can’t think about this right now,” Elizabeth said as she tossed her cell back in her bag and looped it over her shoulder. “The Fourth District has Jason’s cousin—Emily’s cousin—in interrogation on charges of manslaughter, and God knows how long he’s been talking without me.”

She turned back at the door to look at him. “Jason and I were barely friends when Emily died. He was my best friend’s older brother. Always in college, always doing something else. We only knew each other really that last year when we started to work some of the same cases. He didn’t owe me anything when it happened. And honestly, looking at him—it was too hard. So yeah, we didn’t keep in touch. It doesn’t make him the bad guy.”

“Doesn’t make him a great guy,” she heard him mutter as she left the office.

——

Dillon had not called his older cousin. When the cops had pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night, he’d cooperated. He had nothing to hide, and he wasn’t going to play the My cousin is a kick-ass cop card.

Because it wasn’t true, and hell, Jason hadn’t worked at the Fourth District so maybe these assholes didn’t even know him.

By the time Dillon worked out that his car had been at the scene of a hit and run resulting in the serious injury of an elderly woman who had later died in the hospital and he was the primary suspect—well, by then, he’d used his only call to tell Georgie he’d be missing class in the morning.

He’d asked for an attorney then, but somehow they’d talked him out of it. He still wasn’t sure how that worked.

“Let’s go over it again,” the bald one said. He was angry. One of the guys who seemed like he thought everyone was guilty of something and all that was left to figure out was what crime had been committed.

“What’s to go over?” Dillon demanded. “I parked my car around three yesterday. I worked until like two last night on a project for school. You guys pulled me out of my bed at four.” He rubbed his eyes. “That’s all I know.”

“Look, we get it. Freedom in college. You’re enjoying yourself. Maybe you had too much to drink—”

He scowled. “I want an attorney.”

“We’ve been over that—”

“Nope. It’s been six hours. I’m done now. Attorney.”

“Quartermaine—”

“I can spell that for you if you want,” Dillon said, his teeth clenched. “Let me call my attorney.”

“Why do you have an attorney? You got a record we don’t know about?” the bald one pressed.

“My girlfriend’s sister works for one. Elizabeth Webber. She’s…well, I’ve never asked her before but I’ve known her all my life. She’ll represent me. Let me call her.”

“You got her direct number?”

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened. Like a manna from heaven—there she stood. Five foot nothing, brunette, and pissed as hell.

“You charging my client with anything?” Elizabeth demanded.

“It’s his car,” Baldy began.

“And witnesses who said it was him behind the wheel? Proof he wasn’t exactly where he said he was?” Elizabeth held out her hand. “Arrest warrant or we’re walking.”

They stared at one another for a long moment before Baldy looked at Dillon, disgusted. “Get out of here.”

“Don’t open your mouth,” Elizabeth said as Dillon passed her. She pushed him out of the interrogation area and through the squad room. Neither of them said anything until they reached the parking lot, where Maxie, her sister Georgie had been joined by Lucas Jones and Damien Spinelli.

There were hugs and relief, and measures of gratitude directed at Elizabeth, who allowed it for a minute.

“What did you tell them? What did they say?” she demanded.

“My car was found abandoned a block away from a hit and run,” Dillon told her. “A woman was hit.” He swallowed. “She died like an hour ago. I didn’t know what they were asking for, Liz. I swear. They came in at four this morning, hauled me out of bed, put handcuffs on me.”

“He called me because he just thought he was coming in to talk about his car,” Georgie said. “I came to see what was going on, and they refused to let me see him. I got worried, so I asked Maxie for your number.”

“And I printed up a letter of representation,” Maxie said without shame. “But it wasn’t signed by you or Johnny, so they refused to take it. So I had to call you.”

“I just told them I don’t know anything. I came home from class at like three. Parked my car in the driveway. Worked on a project pretty much until two.”

“I can confirm that,” Lucas said as Spinelli nodded. “He was holed up in his room the whole night while me and Spinelli were playing Call of Duty. I mean, he could have gone out his window, but why?”

“And when did you notice your car missing?” Elizabeth asked.

“I didn’t.”

“We didn’t hear anything. Video game was loud and, uh, we may have been too.” Lucas’s cheeks flushed, but Elizabeth understood the way some guys played video games—as if they were going to war. And if they’d had their headsets on.

“Okay. You don’t talk to them again. They’ve got my card. They go through me from now on.” Elizabeth pressed a hand to her head. “Go home. I’ll be in touch—”

A green SUV pulled into the spot next to Spinelli’s second-hand beat up Datsun. Elizabeth watched as Jason Morgan slid out, his long legs quickly eating up the space between him and his cousin.

“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” he demanded, folding the younger man into a rough hug that looked half affectionate, half-irritated. “Did you even mention me?”

Dillon shrugged, swallowed. “Didn’t think of it honestly. But Georgie got it all going.” He glared at her. “And I guess you called him.”

“You’re suspected of manslaughter, you dink,” Georgie shot back.

“You got him out?” Jason asked as he focused on Elizabeth for the first time. His chiseled features twisted in relief as he stepped forward for just a moment—maybe to hug her or something. But then he didn’t. “Thank you.”

“Hopefully the crime scene report will have someone else’s prints,” Elizabeth said with half a shrug. “And I’ll send over Lucas and Spinelli as alibi witnesses, for what it’s worth.”

“I’ll make a call of my own,” Jason said to Dillon. “Between the two of us, we’ll get this taken care of.”

“Great,” Dillon said with great relief. “Can I go now? I got two hours of sleep and I’m supposed to work tonight, and I got class—”

“Get out of here and remember—”

“Don’t talk to the police,” he muttered. “Yeah, yeah. You’d think they were the enemy.”

Jason remained while the five of them crammed into Spinelli’s car. “If I were still on the beat, I’d write them a ticket for reckless endangerment,” he muttered as the car left the lot.

“Considering the way you used to pile football players into your sad little Chevrolet,” Elizabeth said with half a smile.

He looked at her then, the first time they’d been in the same room since he’d visited her in the hospital after the attack. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She shifted. “It’s, um, nice to see you.”

He managed half a laugh as he shook his head. “You don’t mean that, but thanks.” Jason gestured to the cafe across the street. “Let me buy you a coffee. We can catch up and talk about making sure my cousin doesn’t get into anymore trouble.”

“All right,” she said with a half-hearted shrug, even though everything in her screamed to refuse.

Today, September 19, is the anniversary of the day I opened a small General Hospital fanfiction archive on my old website. Back then, it was just called Mellissa’s General Hospital Fanfiction and it would not be named Crimson Glass until 2004 when it moved to its own domain.

A site crash eliminated around 20 stories, though I’ve been able to resurrect almost all of those save a few short stories and two longer chapter stories. One Day at Work and In the Middle are still missing. If anyone even has access to partial chapters (both were once archived at The Canvas), I would love to even have parts of that story.

I’ve written a few retrospectives about the site over the last three years since we moved to our permanent home.

A Look Into Crimson Glass Past

Banner Retrospective #1

The first is a look at the oldest version of the site I could find in the Internet Wayback Machine, which is a cute look into my haphazard design skills and the stories I had at the time. The second post is old banners for stories when I posted primarily on message boards.

For this, the fifteenth anniversary of my fanfiction archive, I thought I’d just kind of look what where I was then as to where I am now and give you some links to the oldest stories from those days, and also give a bit of a status update on the site and the writing.

I was eighteen and starting community college the fall I opened my website. I spent more time writing than I did on my studies and dropped out by that spring. I kept writing until my first hiatus in in 2004, which lasted about year until late 2005. I had started a job which meant I couldn’t watch General Hospital live anymore. Then I got a DVR in November 2005. That’s the longest period I watched the show and wrote — 2005-2008. I was still watching into 2009, but not writing.

And then I took a break until 2012 watching. I started watching for a long time, but didn’t feel the juice to write and didn’t really have the time. I had gone back to school full-time in 2008 which part of the reason I stopped writing. I got my bachelors in May 2013, and then went to London. I had more time on my hands and in January 2014, I began moving my site to this domain. Mostly because the old site had expired and I didn’t have any archive for about two years. I felt bad about it and I didn’t want all my work lost. So I moved it to a temporary home and then started to build the WordPress site from scratch.

I still didn’t think I would return to writing, but then I wrote The Things You Can’t Undo, an episode tag for Elizabeth and Britt. And then…I rewrote Shadows. And on a bus trip to Wales, I rewrote Poisonous Dreams in my head as A Few Words Too Many, and we were off and running.

In the nearly four years since I built this current incarnation of the site, I’ve tried to gather almost all of my writings, even as much that had been lost. Thanks the Internet Wayback machine, I was able to find a ton of old short stories. And then a few enterprising readers sent me old stories. Stories I didn’t remember (Silent Reverie), stories I had lost in crashes (No One Else Sees Me and The Ends of the Earth), and stories I genuinely thought were lost forever (Surviving the Past). Now, to the best of my knowledge, with the exception of One Day At Work and In the Middle, every story I wrote with chapters is here in some shape or fashion. Some might be missing chapters. Some are unfinished, but there’s a lot to read here.

I’ve done my best to organize the stories in ways that you can find what you want easily in my Find Stories menu link. This link allows you to sort stories by the year they’re set, the year they’re written, which couples or characters are featured, by title, by length, and even if there’s a holiday in there. I haven’t been as great lately tagging the stories, so I have to go through and do that. But there’s definitely a way to get there and find what you want. I’m working on adding summaries to the Title page, but it’s slow going.

So here’s where we talk about story status. Most of it you know — I’ve had a lot of changes in my life since 2014. I’m working two jobs, going to school full-time, and my family has grown by six kids. My cousin has one boy, my brother has one of each, and my sister gave me two nieces and nephew. I’ve also had health issues. Creativity issues. The list goes on. I’ve also had trouble making writing a priority.

That changed this summer. I gave you guys a few flash fictions and micro fictions, but I also wrote a huge chunk of an novel, Mad World, which I hope to finish this month given some time and energy. I’m at a point in the story where I think if I could just get in the zone, I could probably finish it off in three days. So it’s about finding time for that zone.

For the site, almost everything I wanted to complete is done. I still have to finish adding summaries to the sorting by title page, and add tags stories added in the last year or so. I want to finish the Fiction Graveyard, but the stories left require heavy editing which is time better spent writing in my opinion. I also want to get more older stories available in ebook form, but that also takes time better spent for writing. So I know where you guys would rather my energy go.

While y’all are waiting for Mad World, Bittersweet, and Damaged, I want to make a concentrated effort to do more shorter stories. More Micro Fiction (20 minutes) and Flash Fictions (up to an hour). I’m making some tentative plans and you might see some of that later today or tomorrow. We’ll see.

I had thought about posting the first chapter of Mad World but it’s not ready — the scenes need editing and some even need rewriting. So I looked through what I’ve been working on, and I do have a few things for you to celebrate this anniversary.

I put Bittersweet on hiatus for personal reasons last year and then kind of lost the thread in writing it. I’m going to tackle that as soon as I get Mad World done. What you guys don’t know is I actually wrote more than the eight chapters that are posted. So what I’m going to do is give you a scene from a later chapter in Bittersweet as well as a scene from Mad World. Neither of these are beta’d beyond chapter content (no line editing). And I’m not gonna give you a lot of context for them. But it’s just a preview and an assurance that these things are here and I’m writing.

Bittersweet Excerpt

Mad World Excerpt

A while ago, I created a post with my favorite stories, so I’ll link that here for some recommendations to read. If you’re looking for my older stories, Surviving the Past is probably the oldest story I’ve written that I would probably would not set on fire. You can also check out the Year Written sort page to get a sense of my evolution as a writer.

I’ll wrap this up by saying thank you so much for the last fifteen years. I may not get paid for my writing and I may not be a “real” writer, but I feel like one because you guys are still here, still patiently (or impatiently, haha), waiting for what I do next, and I cannot articulate what that’s meant to me. Here’s to another fifteen more 😛

I hope to be back later today with something else for you, but I don’t want to promise it before I know for sure.

Note: these excerpts are severely not edited and are from the first draft. Some of this may be rewritten or not even be in the final version. They’re also not from the same chapter.

August 2003

Elizabeth’s Condo: Living Room

Elizabeth’s possessions did not fill much of the space in the condo that Nikolas had found for her. A few shelves in the living room, some rungs in the closet, and several drawers in the bureau. Somewhere in her life, she had acquiring things and the result was that her new home looked like a hotel room.

But Nikolas, God love him, said nothing as she handed him the Styrofoam package from Kelly’s. “I really didn’t need so much space,” she told him.

He arched a brow. “A one-bedroom apartment is too much space?”

She managed a half-hearted smirk as she opened her own container. Her appetite had not yet returned, but she was an adult and she knew she had to put something into her body in order to keep it going. She cut the grilled chicken in half and poked at it with her fork. “Well, I suppose to a man who has five thousand bedrooms—”

“Twelve, but who’s counting?”

She laughed at that, and his expression relaxed. He was so worried about her, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want anyone to worry about her. “Thank you for all of this. I…I would have gone back to my studio and I never would have…”

Felt comfortable. Even the door Jason had had installed wouldn’t have been enough to allow her to sleep. Not after everything she had been through.

“Well, Jason and Sonny suggested the Harborview, which has better security, and I wanted you at Wyndemere where you would never have to lift a finger,” Nikolas said. “A doorman building downtown was probably the best compromise. I…” He hesitated. “I was surprised when you agreed.”

Elizabeth sighed, sipped her water. “I was going to argue, but I couldn’t….Sonny was right. Once Ric made bail…how could I trust a restraining order? I need…I need to put my life together. Figure out what’s next. And I can’t do that if I’m always looking over my shoulder.”

“You are family to me,” Nikolas told her. “I haven’t always been particularly skilled at showing that.” His cheeks flushed. “I put Lucky first, and then myself. I never should have done that. You should have been able to come to me—” He swallowed. “Anyway, that’s water under the bridge.”

“Definitely.” Elizabeth managed another smile and even ate some of the chicken. “Have you talked to Emily? We spent an hour on the phone today.”

“Yes. Did she tell you I practically had to blackmail her into staying in LA while you were in the hospital?” Nikolas asked.

“If she had left her summer program, she wouldn’t be able to graduate early,” Elizabeth said. “And I want her to move home as much as anyone else, so I told her to stop worrying about it. We’ll catch up at Christmas. Letters. Emails. But it was good to hear from her, to know she’s in my corner.”

“She’s worried about Jason,” Nikolas wiped his mouth with a napkin, then set it on the table. “Courtney called to complain he isn’t setting a new date.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. Thinking about Courtney never made her particularly happy and neither did reminders that Jason was planning to marry her. Fine, he didn’t care about her that way anymore but she couldn’t understand what he saw in Courtney. “Carly’s still recovering. I’m sure Jason’s just…”

“Carly’s been home almost a month,” Nikolas said dryly.  “And as Emily told me, if Jason wanted to marry Courtney and wait, they could set a date for a few months away. Refusing to have the conversation means he doesn’t want to marry her and can’t figure out how to tell her.”

“It’s not really my business—”

“And Emily thinks it’s because Courtney was a royal pain in the ass while Carly was missing.”

“I forgot Emily came home for the wedding,” Elizabeth said after a moment. “We…we weren’t able to catch each other.” She’d been newly married, still struggling with the miscarriage that she hadn’t told anyone about. And then…Carly had gone missing.

Nikolas, mercifully, didn’t press the matter. “I bring it up because I doubt she discussed Jason with you.”

“No,” Elizabeth said, drawing out the final syllable. “Not as much.”

“And I know Jason has been around a lot, making sure you’re okay. Keeping Ric out of your hair. He was supposed to help you yesterday, wasn’t he?”

“I had already packed,” she murmured, thinking about the letter she had received. She was relieved Jason had taken it, disposed of it for her. “But yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s not…it’s not like we’re—” Friends. Or anything. But she couldn’t finish the statement. He had been so concerned for her, so caring and solicitous.

Almost like he had been her Jason again.

“Courtney is not a topic I could really discuss with him,” Elizabeth said instead. “It’s usually better when we leave it off the table. She’d do better to nag Jason herself.”

“That’s what I told her.” Nikolas lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “He’ll never be my favorite person,” he said, “but after getting to know Ric Lansing, I’m suddenly a major fan of Jason Morgan and Sonny Corinthos.”

She laughed at that, and then tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t stop them once they had started. “I’m sorry,” she managed, turning away from Nikolas as he stood and rounded the small table to kneel in front of her. “This keeps happening—”

“Hey, you never have to hide how you feel from me. Not ever again,” he promised. “I’m just…I’m worried about you, Liz. This is  good step. Accepting help from me, from Sonny. But I need you to be okay. Not just….” He gestured at her chest, which still held the scar from her chest beneath the black tank top she wore. “But all of you.”

“Nikolas—”

“You can tell me everything you’re thinking, everything you’re feeling, and it doesn’t mean I would be able to do or say the right thing,” he continued. “Bobbie wanted you to talk to Gail Baldwin. Did you?”

She sighed an swiped at her tears. “God, Nikolas—”

“This last year has been so awful,” he said. “Losing Audrey at Christmas time. The baby. Carly, Ric—I think Bobbie’s right. I think  you need more support than I can give. Than Jason can give.”

She sighed, looked away. “I just…I’m afraid if I open up to her…if I start talking, if I tell Gail everything…I’ll just completely fall apart.” Elizabeth closed her eyes, the tears still sliding down her face. “I’m so fucking tired of falling apart.”

Nikolas hesitated for a moment, but then spoke. “Maybe that’s because you never finished putting yourself back together all those years ago.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and then huffed. “God, I hate when you’re right.”

General Hospital: Gail Bailwin’s Office

Gail Baldwin still looked the same, though she had finally allowed her hair to gray. It was still immaculately kept and cut in a short curled style that made Elizabeth feel as though the clock had been turned back to those early days of her therapy.

She sat across from Gail on a peach sofa that was a comfortable upgrade from the pea green she’d sat on before. Her hands were in her lap, the fingers twisting together.

“It’s been a while since you came to see me,” Gail said with a soft smile. God, she reminded Elizabeth of Audrey. Sitting in that soft pink suit with her perfectly matched accessories. Her eyes filled and she looked away. She missed her grandmother so very much. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t—”

“The last time I saw you—and the first time I’d seen you in a while…” Elizabeth sighed and managed a half smile. “Gram’s funeral. You just…I wish she were here. I’d feel steadier if she were.”

“I miss Audrey very much. She and Steve…they were the heartbeat of this hospital, long after your grandmother retired. It doesn’t feel real that she’s gone.” Gail tipped her head. “But it’s been several years since…I had hoped you’d come before.”

“I thought about it a thousand times, but I guess…” She looked around. The room had been redecorated since then, but it really did feel the same. “I dealt with the worst of my rape in this room. I guess I thought if I came back here, I’d…remember that. And I really…I think things are better if I don’t think about that.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh…” Elizabeth sighed and picked at the chip in her red nail polish. “I don’t know. I just don’t like to. It’s easier to pick one of the awful things that have happened since as a reason why I feel like crap. I can pick last month. Last summer. The Christmas before that. The spring before that. The summer before that—” She bit her lip. “And I feel like I’m whining.”

“You can sound like however you wish.” Gail leaned forward. “This is your time.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. If this was going to work, she needed to do the thing. She needed to be honest. “I don’t like to think about my rape because I also remember what came next.  My life fell apart. I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t function. I stopped being me. I didn’t take shit from anyone. I was selfish, and I was…” A tear slid down her cheek. “Fearless, too. I wasn’t a good person, but I was young. I think with my grandmother’s support…I was already changing. Being less self-centered, you know?”

“You were sixteen. It’s not uncommon to be someone different at twenty-two—”

“I’m not who I would have been if not for the rape. And that’s okay. Because…” Elizabeth hesitated. “Because, yeah, my life fell apart. And I lost myself. But I also put myself back together. And I was strong again. I faced my rapist. I looked him in the eye and I survived. I was able to trust again. To let someone touch me, love me. I don’t like to think about the rape because I came back from it. And…”

Gail reminded silent when Elizabeth trailed off, merely tilted her head again, so she forced the words out. “And when I think about how I came back from it, it’s harder to understand these last few years. I was strong, Gail. And then I stopped. I stopped being me. After the fire, when I thought Lucky was dead, I was devastated, and I lost myself. I got myself back again after a bit. After I found someone I could talk to. And then Lucky came back.”

“Lucky came back,” Gail repeated. “Did you hear the way you said that?”

“Yeah….the same way I said I was raped. Or Lucky died. Because Lucky came back, and I had a miracle. And I lost myself trying to deserve that miracle.” Elizabeth wiped a tear away with a knuckle. “And in a lot ways…I never came back from that. I feel like I’m still locked in that moment. Trying to be what Lucky needed me to be so we could get it all back. I never stopped to think…it shouldn’t be this hard. I shouldn’t have to spend my entire life doing what he wanted…and when someone pointed that out…” She closed her eyes—she could still bring that moment she had thrown Jason away. The only chance she had really had with him. “I threw him away. Because if I didn’t know who I was if I wasn’t with Lucky. He loved me. That…it had to be enough.”

“You lost yourself,” Gail repeated. “What does that mean?”

“What?” Elizabeth blinked. “It means…it means exactly what I said. I stopped…doing what made me happy. I didn’t finish my art history degree because I was going to be a model. And then I was going to marry Lucky. And then I married Ric because I was going to be a mother—” Her voice broke. “I kept…planning the next step without really…I don’t know. I just…kept putting one foot in front of another to get through the day and I stopped caring about what that day looked like. I looked up in July…and I looked back at the last two or three years and I just…I didn’t understand them. I couldn’t…I could understand why I was…how I could have let it get this bad?”

Gail made a few notes. “You didn’t like your choices. Your marriage? Your career?”

“Career.” Elizabeth snorted. “I don’t have one. I live in a condo that Nikolas bought for me. I pay my bills with my grandmother’s life insurance money and the trust fund my grandfather left me when I turned twenty-one. I don’t have a career. I don’t even have a job. I’m…I’m a parasite, and I let that happen because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was afraid…” She looked down, picked at the stitching holding the sofa cushions together.

“What were you afraid of?”

“If I had no where to go, no one to turn to…Ric came to see me when he got out on bail. I hadn’t…there wasn’t a restraining order. Bobbie and Nikolas had gotten emergency power of attorney while Ric was in jail. But he’d allowed it—because he couldn’t be there.” She bit her lip. “He came to see me, and I was…I was tired, and I was sick inside, you know? And he apologized. He cried. About the baby. About how he just wanted to give me another baby, and how looking at Carly made him so angry. He thought Sonny had pushed me. That Sonny had killed our baby, and he said he just…something snapped, and then once he’d done it…he’d had to go through with it.”

“Did…did that make sense to you?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth looked at her then, tears streaming, her chest so tight she could scarcely breathe. “And he asked me to forgive him. And I didn’t—because—in my head I said no. I know I said no. But nothing came out. I only asked him to leave. And I started to cry when he left. Because I had almost…”

“Elizabeth—”

“Jason came in while I was crying, and Nikolas, too. They both—they both thought I was upset about…the situation. And I said something about not having anyone to talk to, to go after I left the hospital. And I was feeling…God, I was feeling so alone. Nikolas said they’d fix it. He’d find something and he promised to come by every day. And Jason just…he looked at me…and I never…I always thought…”

“What?” Gail pressed when Elizabeth pressed her lips together.

“I think he saw Ric leave the room. Because he came in so fast. I think he knew…he knew how close I’d come to going back. And I’m so ashamed. So ashamed that I was that weak. That I am that weak.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Because I believed him. I still believe him now. I believe that he’s sorry. Sorry he got caught, but sorry all the same. And I believe he…that if we hadn’t lost the baby, it wouldn’t have happened. I believe the baby broke him. And I know he blamed Sonny. That seeing Carly’s baby made him angry. I believe him.”

“Elizabeth—”

“It broke me. Losing that child before I could even…” She took the tissue Gail offered and blew her nose. “I couldn’t see straight, and it was just…easier to close my eyes to everything else. Buy a house I’d never seen. Move in. Start a new life. Sure, why not? But yeah, I believe losing that baby broke him. And it made him kidnap Carly.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Elizabeth,” Gail said softly. “And for what it’s worth, I believe that, too.”

“But if he hadn’t left…if he’d stood his ground that day and Jason hadn’t come—if Nikolas hadn’t—”

“If you’d really been alone in that moment?” Gail cut in. “You would have let him back in? And gone home with him?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“But you didn’t, Elizabeth. You allowed him to say his piece, you accepted his truth, and you asked him to leave. You should remember that part of it. You asked him to leave. And then you learned you weren’t alone. And you accepted the help. And you’ve continued to accept the help.”

Elizabeth’s breath was shaky as she let it out. “Okay. Okay. Yeah…I can…I can hold on to that. I asked him to leave, and I let Nikolas buy the condo. I let Jason drive me there. I know he set up security that goes beyond what existed in the building. And I…I let him pay a retainer for a divorce lawyer. I asked for the restraining order. I did it because I was scared if he came back, I would…I would let him back in. But I asked for it.”

“Yes. You did all of that.”

“So I need…I need to remember that.”

“More than that, my dear.” Gail smiled, but her eyes were sad. “You need to be kinder to yourself. I’m sure you’ve heard from others that you need to forgive yourself, and the sentiment is well-placed. But you only need forgiveness if you’ve done something wrong. You did the best you could with what you had in front of you. You don’t need to forgive yourself, Elizabeth. You need to be generous. Kinder. More understanding. You lost a child, Elizabeth. So what if that child had not yet been born? You believe Ric did this horrendous thing because losing that child, that dream, broke him. Why are you kinder to him than you are to yourself?”

“Oh, God…” Elizabeth couldn’t stop the tears. “I…can’t…”

Gail joined her on the sofa and took one of Elizabeth’s hands, holding it with both of hers. “I’m glad you came to see me.”

Elizabeth nodded through her tears. “I am, too. And I…I hear you. I don’t know…I know if I can do that. Be kind to myself. But, um, I want to try. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

I’m in a daze stumbling bewildered
North of gravity head up in the stratosphere
You and I roller coaster riding love
You’re the center of adrenaline
And I’m beginning to understand
– The Best Thing, Savage Garden

Sunday, May 5, 2002

Kelly’s: Dining Room

Courtney winced when Elizabeth stalked in from the kitchen and snatched the white apron from behind the counter. “I guess Jason found you,” she murmured as she gently set the carafe of coffee back on the hot plate. “Elizabeth—”

“I told him,” her friend snapped. “And of course, it’s all my fault. What am I supposed to do? Ignore the situation? Maybe I could run away for a year and just pretend everything is exactly the same when I come back—” She stopped and closed her eyes. “Jason,” she continued without opening them, “isn’t thrilled that I don’t plan to sandbag AJ’s character on the stand if I’m asked.”

“Oh.” Courtney bit her lip. “I mean…” She looked at the counter, focusing on a small crack in the laminate surface. “I’m sorry—”

“Why?” Elizabeth asked. “None of this is your fault. You married AJ, Courtney. You get to take his side, particularly when, you know, he’s not wrong.” She hissed through her teeth as she yanked out the ledger and reached the receipts from the lunch rush. “Michael is his son. AJ’s not wrong to do whatever he thinks is best.”

“But Jason isn’t wrong to be concerned,” Courtney said. “I’d be lying if I said I were one hundred percent convinced AJ will never take another drink.” And God, didn’t she feel disloyal admitting that? But this was Elizabeth. The first friend she’d made in Port Charles. Her best friend.

“I guess I just…” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I thought—I thought if I took that step forward. If I…let myself feel those things for Jason again—”

“Or admitted that you already did.”

“Semantics.” But Elizabeth smiled, a slight shift in the curve of her lips. “I thought if I took that leap—he’d be there waiting. That…it was me holding us back.”

“But—”

“It’s not. It’s him, too.” She waited a moment. “He doesn’t trust me. Not where it counts. He can’t see that I love Michael, that I want what’s best for him—”

“I think he’s scared—” Courtney lowered her voice when a customer wandered in. “Elizabeth, you’ve said it yourself. He still loves that little boy like his own son. That doesn’t go away. You never stop protecting your children. Maybe the reason Jason is so angry is because he knows you’re right, and he doesn’t want to admit—”

“What am I supposed to do with that?” Elizabeth cut in. “I spent two years of my life running after Lucky, fixing his problems—” she shook her head. “No, this—this is a sign. It’s not enough to care about Jason. It’s not enough that he cares about me. We don’t work. When the rest of the world gets involved—”

“And that is a copout,” Courtney interrupted, slapping her hand over the ledger, forcing Elizabeth to stop writing, to look at her. “What would Gia say if she were here?”

“Oh, God…” Elizabeth rolled her eyes and sighed. “Courtney—”

“This situation with Michael? Where you’re in the middle? This doesn’t go away if you stop…if you pull away from Jason again. What changes, Elizabeth? Nothing.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “Courtney—”

“But maybe that’s not the point. Because if you walk away from what you feel this time, if Jason lets you—” Courtney shrugged, stepped back, and let her hand fall back to her side. “Maybe that’s for the best. Because if you let something that has nothing to do with who the two of you are together—if you let something that’s not even about you get in your way—maybe you were right. Maybe it’s just lust. Residual. Unfinished business.”

“That’s not fair,” her friend managed, her voice weak, even a bit shaky. “He doesn’t trust me—”

“You don’t know that.” Courtney took a deep breath. “I love you. I don’t know Jason that well, but I do see the way he looks at you. I think, before you write this off, before you let fear get inside your head—you owe it to both of you to give it a chance.” She hesitated, but decided to press her advantage. “You both love Michael. AJ loves Michael. I want the chance to love him. We are all good people, Elizabeth. Good people should be able to find a way to make this right.”

Jake’s: Upstairs Hallway

Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. She had to…she had to do this. To talk to him. To just…make sure that walking away was the right decision.

Courtney was right—if something that had nothing to do with who they were together could affect their relationship, it wasn’t strong enough. It was smart to stop now. To get out before they ruined each other.

She hadn’t been smart before. She’d hung on, clung to the dream so long that there had been nothing left when she’d finally woken up.

Not this time.

She raised her hand to knock before it was yanked open, and Jason appeared, about to step over the threshold. He stopped, obviously not expecting her. “Elizabeth—”

“Oh.” She chewed on her lip, taking in the jacket he wore and the keys in his hand. Reprieve. “You’re—you’re leaving. I can—”

“I was going for a ride.” He shifted back, stepping to the side so she could enter. When Elizabeth didn’t move, his hand tightened on the edge of the door. “Elizabeth—”

And now that she was standing in front of him, ready to call the whole thing off—

She couldn’t.

“I’m a good person,” she said, softly. He furrowed his brow, opened his mouth to respond. “And you’re a good person.”

“Elizabeth—”

“And so are Courtney and AJ.”

He sighed and dipped his head. “Elizabeth, don’t—”

“Good people should be able to work together.” She swallowed hard. “I love Michael, Jason. I tried to stay out of this, I did. But I can’t. Because Courtney is my friend, and I’ve known AJ for years. And I love that little boy. Good people who want the best for that little boy—I have to believe that we can work together—”

He looked away and shook his head lightly. “Elizabeth—”

“Because I care about you,” she said in a rush of words. “I always have, but I mean—I just—” She licked her lips. “If this were before, if this was Lucky—” He scowled, but she continued. “I would have done whatever he asked. Whatever made him happy. Because that’s how I judged my life. If Lucky was happy, if I did what he wanted—I can’t do that anymore—”

“Elizabeth—” Jason’s voice was quiet, but there was anguish there. “That’s not—I’m not—” He stepped back. “Come in. Please.”

Hesitantly, she stepped over the threshold and waited for him to shut the door. He dropped his keys on the dresser and looked at her. “I’m sorry about today.”

“I’m not trying to box you in. To convince you to give up—”

“No, I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You weren’t saying anything you haven’t before. Nothing Alexis or Bobbie hasn’t said. My chances in court are next to nothing, and dragging Michael through it would just…”

Her throat felt raw as she forced the words out. “Jason—”

“But you never have to tell me what I want to hear, or do anything because I—” He sliced a hand through the air. “I don’t want that from you. I saw—” He stopped and looked away, swallowing. “I saw you do that before. I Last year, I watched you twist yourself around to be what Lucky wanted. I would never—”

She exhaled slowly. “And I know that. I do. Here.” She gestured at her head. “It’s just…it’s hard to believe it everywhere else. I have a lot of…damage from before—”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he cut in, his eyes fierce. “Elizabeth—”

“Baggage then,” she continued, with a hesitant smile at his complete faith in her. At least one of them had it. She bit her lip. “It’s there. And I can’t pretend it isn’t.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

She could do this. She could be honest with herself, with him. About anything. This was Jason. He was safe.

Elizabeth stepped forward until she stood just before him, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “Last night, in the alley—today—”

“If you’re not ready—”

“It felt right,” Elizabeth interrupted. “And it felt good. And I wished—” She shook her head. “No. No regrets. If it had happened last year, I wasn’t ready to do anything about it then. I am now. I want to be with you.” She hesitantly reached out, her fingertips brushing the soft cotton of his black shirt. She flicked her eyes back at him. “And not in some…abstract sense. I mean…” She pressed her hands against his chest, his skin warm under the cotton. “Now. Tonight.”

“Elizabeth—”

She slid her hand up slightly to cover his heart. She’d felt it before—could remember checking it during that winter in her studio. He slept so soundly, so little movement, she would often lean over at night to check his heartbeat.

And it was quicker now, his breath had changed. She had never really let herself believe a man like Jason would want her—would find her attractive, but he did. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his body had tensed.

“But maybe you would rather go out for a ride,” she teased as she slid up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his quickly. “You know I like the bike—”

She moved, as if going towards the door, but he laughed, the sound low and rumbling through his chest as he lightly tugged her back, letting her almost stumble into him. Her answering grin was swallowed by his mouth as he dipped his head, speared his hands in her hair and kissed her.

This. This feeling, this sensation, this dizzy, intoxicating sensation—this was why she had to give this a chance. She wanted to drown herself in him, in his touch, in the way everything just ignited inside her when he was with her. Elizabeth slid her hands up his chest again, moving under his jacket so she could shove the leather from his shoulders.

She fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling him backwards toward the bed. Jason hesitated when her knees brushed the edge. His hands resting at her hips, his thumbs brushing the skin just under her shirt, he raised his head and licked his lips. “Elizabeth—” he began, his voice a bit rough. “We don’t—”

She raised a brow, and swiftly turned so that she could lightly shove him on the bed before climbing on top, her denim-clad thighs straddling him on either side. “Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” she asked, her tone idle as the tip of her fingers lightly danced on his abdomen, on the bared skin where his shirt had tugged up.

His eyes were dark in the dimly lit room as he braced himself up on his elbows. “Not as long as I have,” Jason managed.

“I should have felt guilty,” Elizabeth mused with a smile that felt wicked even as it slid across her face. “I mean, you were hurt and I was supposed to be taking care of you, but every time I changed your bandage…” Her fingers traced the scar that bullet had left. “I had this crazy thought about just…” She bit her lip, but what the hell? “Licking you.”

He didn’t laugh at her, didn’t even smile at the thought of that silly girl thinking such naughty thoughts about a bullet-ridden older man in her care. Instead, Jason sat up, tugging her closer, bringing her into closer contact with all of him. Her breath caught—she could feel him, even though two layers of denim. “If you had,” he began, but stopped and shook his head. “I want this to be right for you,” he said, finally, his lips feathering along her jaw.

“Being with you makes it right,” she murmured. “You are—this is what I want.” She rocked back lightly, heard his breath hitch. “I’m not going to pretend anymore.” She leaned down, nipped at his mouth. “Are we done talking yet?”

He answered with a light growl that had her giggling as Jason dipped her to the side, her back against the mattress. “I think we’ve talked enough,” he told her with a wicked grin before he took her mouth again.

September 17, 2017

So we’re two weeks into the semester. I worked really hard to get myself on a study schedule that would not leave me working and studying every waking hour. That really killed me last year and was the major reason I didn’t write much at all. So I set up a study and work schedule that, as long as I don’t get sick, gives me Fridays and Saturday,and Sunday afternoons off from work and school (with the exception of about 4 hours on Friday for my teaching Practicum.)  Basically, I’ve scheduled myself a decent amount of the weekend to relax, read, and write.

I’ve also kind of set up a morning schedule that gives me about a half hour of writing time, but it’s been tough to get myself out of bed at 6 AM when pretty much all my night classes and shifts at work leave me getting home at 9 PM the night before.

All that is to say that I’ve made my writing a bit more of a priority than I did last year, and that’s mostly because this summer, I remembered how much I like writing. I’m working on Mad World, and it’s about halfway done. I got a bit stalled on a chapter because this scene is ridiculously difficult and I have get myself an afternoon to write it.

Today, I have another Micro Fiction for you, a continuation of the horrible title, Birthdays and Anniversaries. I wrote it in about 20 minutes and 30 seconds earlier today, and I wrote as an Author’s note that I like this concept and I’m going to play with it as a short story so this will probably be the last time I feature it in the Micro Fiction.

This entry is part 4 of 9 in the Flash Fiction: 25 Minutes or Less

Note: I actually like the concept of this story, and this will probably be the last entry for the micro fiction. I’d like to play with it as a longer short story. I’ll keep you posted.

Running late for a dinner with family, so remember: I wrote this in 20 minutes and didn’t edit or spellcheck.

Two years earlier, it had been the day after Halloween. Elizabeth and her best friend since childhood, Emily Morgan, had scoured the local store’s candy fire sale, brought it back to Elizabeth’s apartment and prepared for their annual post-Halloween scary movie marathon.

The tradition had gone back to the first time they had gone trick or treating by themselves (all brave at the age of twelve) and had fallen asleep through the third Halloween movie, woken up the next day to finish the rest of the series. To them, it had seemed like the perfect solution — trick or treat on Halloween and eat the candy the next day so they could watch all the movies and not worry about falling asleep or being sent to bed by one of their parents. And the fact that it was Elizabeth’s birthday? Beyond perfect. Elizabeth hated birthday parties and this was the perfect way to get out of them.

For fifteen years, they had kept the tradition. Through high school, through college, through law school and med school. Even the year that Elizabeth had been pissed because Emily had gone out with the guy from the newspaper Elizabeth had had her eye on. They’d fought bitterly the week before, but then Emily had shown up at her door, on November 1, with a bag of jellybeans and a battered copy of the IT miniseries. The guy was forgotten, and they’d moved forward.

Until two years ago.

“Escaped,” Elizabeth said flatly. Of course he had. “Do you have leads? Sighting? How the hell did he get out?”

Jason rubbed his hands over his face. “They won’t tell me much. It’s not our case and I’m too emotionally involved.” He bit out those last words with a lot of heat.

Elizabeth said nothing. Legal protocol, of course, would prevent the brother of the victim from getting anywhere near the case, even if he had been the original investigating officer.

She’d been the prosecuting assistant district attorney trying to put Diego Alcazar in jail for a string of serial rapes, and Jason had been the one to slap the cuffs on him a week before that day. And the target of his rage.

Absently, she rubbed her shoulder. Every once in a while, she could still feel the sharp slice of pain as that knife had slashed towards her. And the residual horror when she’d watched from her fallen position as Alcazar had gone after Emily.

“Listen,” Jason said after a moment. “You told me not to bother you last year—”

“I said that two years ago,” she muttered. “You just…listened.”

“You changed your number. You moved. And then you quit your job.”

She shrugged, returning to her desk and the paperwork. “So?”

“So, what I said that day—” Irritation flashed across his chiseled features. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth met his eyes. “You did. And it’s okay. It was my fault. I Zknew he’d made threats—”

“I wanted to take it back,” he interrupted. “But you were in recovery and I felt like enough shit. I just—I hoped you wouldn’t remember it. My family was shattered. The job put me on administrative leave. And by the time I could—” He shook his head. “You disappeared, Elizabeth.”

“Bullshit.” But it was said without heat. “You’re a fucking cop, Jason. You wanted to find me, you could have. I didn’t change my name. I still practice law. Hell, your old partner arrested my current client. You knew where to find me.” She shrugged. “You didn’t.”

He exhaled slowly. “Fair enough. I didn’t. I tried to tell the state troopers Alcazar might come for you, but they ignored me. They think he’s on his way to Canada, but you and I both know why he came for you.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I guess we do.” She sat down, looking back at the Quartermaine notes. “Look, thanks for telling me. I’ll check into a hotel or something—”

“Elizabeth—”

Her office phone rang before he could protest further. “Zacchara and Webber,” she answered, turning away from him.

“Ms. Webber? This is Officer Falconieri from the PCPD. We responded to a report of a break in at your apartment.”

Her blood chilled. “My apartment?”

“Ma’am, you should…we need you to meet us at your home.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Slowly, she placed the phone back on the hook and turned to Jason. “The PCPD…someone broke into my apartment.”

His expression hardened like granite. “You’re not going alone.”

And though she was relieved that she wasn’t alone, this wasn’t quite the birthday wish she’d wanted. She looked one last time at the gaudy remains of Johnny’s goddamn cupcake. Fucking birthdays.

August 27, 2017

I’ll be honest — this nearly passed me by, but the seminal Jake’s scene happened eighteen years ago today. August 27, 1999. I actually missed them the first time around. When Lucky died, I took a break from GH. I love Liason, but Jonathan Jackson!Lucky was my first crush and I pretty much cried for a month. I was fifteen and I thought the world was over because Liz and Lucky were done, and they’d burned my true love in a fire. Would you believe that my mother didn’t let me stay home?

So I tuned back in when Lucky came from the dead, and my God, was I punished for it. I’m sorry to Jacob Young, but seriously — he made me hate Lucky for YEARS. It wasn’t until Greg Vaughan came on that I could look at my beloved again.

But I was watching in the summer of 2000 and I immediately saw how amazing Liason could be, but alas Jason left and I went with him. I tuned in and out due to high school, but after graduation in 2002, I was recovering from foot surgery and I started to watch during Elizabeth’s kidnapping. The rest is history.

So thanks to Twitter for the reminders and GIFS. We’re a crazy fanbase to still be going strong after all the knocks we’ve taken but I’m proud to be a member of it.

Writing is still going really well. I got little stuck on a few chapters in the middle of Mad World — crucial scenes that I rewrote several times before moving on. I tweeted a few times about it, so make sure you’re following me on Twitter to keep up.

I broke through the damn and I’m about halfway through the first draft. I have just enough time to finish the first draft before school really heats up next week, so once that draft is done, I’ll have a better idea when you can expect it. I’m leaning towards November. Once I start posting, though, you’ll have the assurance that it is completely done and there won’t be any hiatuses.

August 2, 2017

I wanted to post something yesterday about this because, well, yesterday was the official twenty-year mark for Rebecca Herbst on General Hospital.

I’ve been writing fanfiction about General Hospital for nearly as long as Becky has been on the show — I started with Elizabeth/Lucky fanfiction in 1998 back when most GH sites were on Geocities and we organized our fandoms by mailing lists, not message boards. Elizabeth and Lucky were my first love and my first foray in creative writing.

I can still remember watching that first episode on August 1, when Elizabeth showed up as a teenage badass who didn’t a give fuck about anything or anyone. I rushed home for a year to watch her scheme and plot to get the guy and then battle back from her rape. As I got older and busier with school, I wasn’t always able to keep up or record on our VCR, but I kept tuning in. I got a DVR in 2005, which made it a lot easier.

I loved Jason/Elizabeth from the moment I saw them on screen, but didn’t start writing for them until the summer of 2002 when I found The Canvas. Whatever that site turned into, I will always be grateful for them because I found a voice in my writing that hasn’t stopped since (despite a few breaks). I discovered many of the readers I still have today and also a group of amazing friends at Liason/Liz Underground who continue to be some of the strongest, funniest women I know.

I created Crimson Glass on September 19, 2002 but I started publishing fanfiction on August 3, 2002 at The Canvas with Deserving, a story that has been lost to rewrites, crashes, and being banned from The Canvas. It’s been fifteen years which seems insane to me but I wouldn’t change a thing. So I’m posting today, in the middle of these two anniversaries.

Elizabeth Webber remains one of my favorite television characters. I don’t always watch regularly these days because the rest of the show has never meant as much to me, but for twenty years, Becky has brought this character to life and I think it’s safe to say my life would be much different had she left the show as quickly as Jennifer Sky and the character of Sarah Webber. The character of Elizabeth was originally about fourteen or fifteen when she started (she turned 16 in 1998, then 18 in 1999), and I was thirteen so part of me feels like I grew up with her on screen. I will always remain #LizFanFirst.

Thank you for reading my silly stories and giving me a reason to keep writing.