Title: Spit It All Out

Rating: M (loads of sexual references and swearing)

Category: Humour/Drama

Summary: Somewhat AU and totally not fitting in with Passions' current storylines. Written some eons ago and it was inspired by my fustration with Ethan's character and his unbelievably thick head. It's about time Ethan grew some balls and stood up to that right little tart Theresa! Any feedback welcome, but constructive critique most preferred.

Spit It All Out

Their faces were almost millimetres from each when- BING! It clicked...why was Ethan Winthrop, proud lawyer of Hart & Brown & Lee mucking around with this silly girl?

Silly girl seemed appropriate enough description for the 23 year old woman who should of known better.

Ethan pulled away and scowled in disgust.

"Ethan?" she said, trying to be all whispery and seductive. He looked away. It was now or never. Gwen deserved better than this. His mother deserved better than this. Pilar Lopez-Fitzgerald deserved better than this and hell! Even Rebecca who wasn't much better than this gold digger deserved better than this.

"Theresa, you're a slut."

Theresa's already big, bright eyes went bigger and brighter at such a random notion.

"That's right, you heard me...slut...S-L-U-T!"

"Ethan, what are y-you talking a-about!?" she sputtered. Disbelief and shock and possibly a hint of anger crossing her face.

"I'm talking about you and your behaviour. I'm talking my complete and utter idiocy for the last 2 to 3 years. What a waste, all this time doting over you and I could of been with Gwen married." he said coldly.

Theresa was dumbstruck, no, that was understatement. She could of died. Why was he saying this? Didn't their lovemaking on the beach mean anything? Didn't the vision in the fog signify the absolute importance of their love? And worst of all...he mentioned Gwen. That woman. That ugly mar on what could of been a most perfect life together.

"Ethan...I love you. Is there something-"

"Dammit! Hell, you're even thicker than me or you quit playing innocent. Bloody gold digger. There is something wrong. I'm going to cut to the chase-"

"Gold digger? Ethan, who said this? I would never use you like that!" she cried, almost melodramatically. Ethan rolled his eyes. He decided he would just steamroll through, no pleas of innocence and love would deter him now.

"Doesn't matter who said it. I could of come to the conclusion myself." he snarled, "There is something wrong. I'm sick of your cowardly crawl through our lives. You just snuck in and messed it all up. Had me twisted around your little finger, didn't you!?"

Theresa was absolutely stunned but the accusations flung at her. Obviously, it had to be of of Gwen or Rebecca's doing. Those lazy bitches, they were the real gold diggers around here. But something wrung deep in her stomach, something told her that it was not the designs of some would-be heiresses but really...could she say it to herself, make it real and tangible? The truth. Some truth. Some horrible realization of Ethan's own contemplations.

No, she loved Ethan. She even had his children. That meant something sacred, of course.

No, wrong again, that is not the truth. Theresa knew...as much as she was pained to admit it...she was really was a gold digging' whore. She was once this poor and pathetic girl in love with Ethan Crane, but even if she had climbed so far fiscally, she was still the rich and PATHETIC girl in love with Ethan Crane's... money.

She looked up at Ethan and put on the big old Bambi eyes for him. No, she could not give in yet. She had 3 kids to care for and she knew if the Cranes ever won they'd rob her of every red penny she'd earn legitimately but for the most part, illegitimately.
Actually, now that she had suddenly been put into a most unfortunate position, Theresa realised she had not really loved Ethan for quite sometime. But she had lied to herself good, real good about that.

Ethan shoved her away, "Well, look's like little moneybags here is lost for words!"

"Ethan! How dare you!? I love you. I always have. We have 2 kids- TWO KIDS! Two beautiful kids they are and we can have this wonderful life together," she implored him.

Ethan snorted derisively and muttered, "God Theresa. Wake up and smell your mocha coffee, we both be lying to each other for a long time. I thought I loved you and you loved me, I honestly believed that but you know, I was kidding myself. I know you've got a lie too, maybe it's the same- you thought you loved me but it's the money you love."

Theresa was stunned that Ethan had suddenly echoed her thoughts just like that. But there was no way she was going to have Ethan throw her away. She was in too deep and would most likely drown if she stopped fighting now.

"How can you say this!?" her voice rose sharply, "I mean, what are you saying? It's Rebecca isn't it!? What had she said?"
"She did not say anything. I came to conclusion myself. Truly, Theresa, truly." Ethan had to admit he was proud that he had finally figured out something for himself once.

"No! Then your conclusion is wrong...I love you Ethan Winthrop...please, believe me!" Theresa's voice was no longer the well-polished dramatisation of a conwoman but someone getting quite truly distraught. Alarm bells went off- well if he had out somehow figured this out, Theresa was in real trouble now. She also knew that although he would never be as manipulative or as coldly intelligent as his mother, Ethan had the willpower to do almost anything if he felt it was a worthy enough cause. So getting her kicked out of the Crane Mansion was cause enough. No pleas or implorings would fall to his ears and plant themselves in his mind.

"What about our children?" she asked. If there some people that she actually did care about, it was her children. Although she had shamefully used them as pawns to power, she did love them and having them face the conditions she grew up in was abominable.

"You mean MY kids?" he said, "Actually, correction there...Gwen and my kids. Don't you worry your greedy little brains out for them, Theresa, they'll be just fine with us. They never were your children to begin with anyway."

Alas, that was another truth Theresa did not want to admit. Ethan Jr. was her only biological son and her only real claim save that meddling Rebecca had forced her to give up Junior to Gwen some years ago.

"Ethan Junior, please give me him. He really is mine." she stabbed at her only and last chance to get some Crane money.

"I am really not given to have Ethan Jr. grow up with woman who could be the town's biggest harlot. Besides, with your reputation ruined and no employment opportunities, I doubt Ethan and you would last very long. Not even your mother would stand for it."

Again, she was refuted. She had to do something, remind him of familial bonds perhaps?

"You are Sam Bennett's son!" she threw at him, Sam the good and humble policeman always giving and rarely receiving, "How would your father condone such behaviour in his own son?"

"What?" he said, "Throw away the most manipulative piece of trash I've ever run into? I think he would approve!"

"Trash!? I am not trash!" she shrieked, finally all semblance of being cool and collected, "I gave birth to Junior- whom you kidnapped! I gave you Jane! Without me, you'd have no heirs to run nothing! And you dare to call me trash!"

Okay, so maybe she had a point there, but Ethan had little time to consider when he was one his mother's antique 17th century Georgian vases came flying straight for his face. He dodged just in time and Theresa seeing this, hissed in frustration and let loose with more vases and cursing.

In this moment of mental clarity, Ethan decided it wasn't best to admonish Theresa for trashing the room but hurl something back at her, hope it would hit and then make good his escape. He could then proceed to swamp security on the woman.

Picking up what seemed like some sort of odd grotesque little African statue, he gave three seconds to aim, a second to throw and whatever remained... he dashed for the door.

"Ooooh! Come back here!" she yelled, a woman possessed. Her hair flying madly, her eyes wide and gleaming with some sort of fury that went beyond simple anger, she looked like one of those demons carved at the Church's gate.

"Get screwed!" Ethan yelled back, whoever was chasing him now was defiantly not Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, it was more like some demonic version of her. He grasped some heavy tome and hurled it towards her head, she'd have to dodge and he could make it to door for sure.

But instead to his surprise and relief, the book hit right on target. Theresa continued to glare at him for a moment before collapsing onto a heap on the floor. Ethan paused, his entire being stopped. Was she truly knocked out? Or was she like the Terminator, just waiting till he foolishly looked over to catch him? He hadn't thrown the book with much force, just enough so it would reach but then again, Theresa was no muscle-bound wrestler and he did hit the head, a soft point for anyone. He waited a few moments more, no sound and no movement. With this evidence and his reasoning, he cautiously made his way over to the bundled form of Theresa.
Glancing down at her, he could already see a nasty black-purple bruise forming on her forehead. He prodded her carefully with his foot, nothing. Convinced she was well and truly out of it, he bent down to her level.

What to do? He couldn't just leave her with all this mess, wait, he could. He could just use it as evidence for her complete and total eviction from the family... hey guys, not only is she a gold-digger but she's a crazed gold-digger with a hidden drug habit. Heh, and then perhaps with some work they could fudge up some truly tragic story to send her to some rehab for a long, long time.

Standing up, Ethan decided he would do just that. Working onto his face the look of panic and fear, he ran for the door and started yelling "Security! Security!"

"May the Lord God guide the spirit of Theresa to her eternal rest and home in paradise. Lord hear our prayers," intoned Gwen.

"Lord hear our prayers," the crowd replied.

Ethan glanced around said crowd, in one corner were the Lopez-Fitzgerald's. Pilar surrounded by her two sons, Luis and Miguel, tears endlessly dripping from her eyes. Paloma's eyes were red but otherwise she remained stoic-faced. Surrounding them were the Bennetts and the Russells. Whitney looked just like Pilar. Her hands scrunched tightly in her lap and her whole body sagging in the seat.

On the other-side of the small Church, sat his family- Cranes, Winthrops and the Hotchkisses. Unsurprisingly, most remained stoic-faced though he swore he caught Rebecca smirking at one point, and to his surprise Julian looked rather sad. As for himself, he could only feel a mixture of confusion, guilt, surprise and grief. He had wanted Theresa out of his life, but certainly not in this manner. And he especially hated looking at the Lopez-Fitzgeralds. He had always had respect for and even loved Pilar, she had been almost like another mother to him and even if her daughter had been quite the succubus to put it nicely, that daughter had been Pilar's little darling and Ethan had destroyed that. God knows what Theresa would of done if she had caught him... he might of been in that coffin instead, but shoving that morbid thought aside, Ethan knew nothing could justify hurting Pilar so much.

He glanced over at his mother. She smiled at him.

"It's okay," she patted his hand.

"But Pilar?"

"It is very regrettable," Ivy replied, looking sadly at the silently weeping woman, "But, even she would know the power of maternal love. Theresa would of always come first and I'm sorry, but I just could not let that happen to my own little darling."

Ivy brushed a strand of her son's hair aside and kissed Ethan gently on the forehead.

"Just put it in your mind that it would be you in that coffin now, if you hadn't done what you did. It was and is perfectly justified."