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.”
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