Title: Sober
Author: Mackenzie
Email: me.and. "General Hospital"
Category: Luke/Laura/Scott/Angst
Disclaimers: I don't own 'em, don't claim to own 'em, don't sue.
Props: Title from Kelly Clarkson's new cd, "My December"
Summary: A glimpse into the mind of a man gone mad
1/1
Luke Spencer sighed as he rolled out of bed and sat on the edge. His piercing azure eyes stared out the window and down at the piazza below. Life had settled to a comfortable pace for him while in Italy.
Italy.
Normally, when he needed to get out of Port Charles--or, Port Chuckles as he affectionately called it--his home was a small cottage in Sweden, but this time it was different. He needed a total change of scenery and his heart longed for the salmon colored sunsets of Rome that he had fallen in love with all those years ago while on the run. On the run. With Laura.
His angel.
Sighing once again, the aging man felt a familiar pang at his heart as he thought back on his beloved Laura. Leaning across the bed, Luke opened the bedside drawer and saw the half empty bottle of scotch.
And I don't know
This could break my heart or save me
Nothing's real
Until you let go completely
So here I go with all my thoughts I've been saving
Three months and I'm still sober
His eyes burning into the glass, Spencer reached for it and picked it out of the drawer. He could see the amber liquid swirling around in the clear bottle. He could smell the smell. That pungent aroma that only the finest liquor could have. He could taste the taste.
Oh, god that taste.
He could feel the liquid slowly sliding down his throat, leaving a path of dancing flames in its wake as it traveled down to his stomach.
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers
But I know it's never really over
And I don't know
I could crash and burn but maybe
At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me
He was told he was crazy when he mentioned to his current wife that he was going to into the Luke Spencer Rehabilitation for Alcoholism. A two month bender where he would undoubtedly crash and burn and then he'd force himself not to touch another drop. "I'll go anywhere," he said to her in that conversation aboard the Haunted Star. "Japan, England, Bermuda, Mars, Jupiter..." "You won't make it," was his wife's response. Luke knew in his heart that Tracy was scared she'd get an international call informing her that her husband was found dead from alcohol poisoning, but he also took her statement as a challenge, and Luke never backed down from a challenge.
So I won't worry about my timing, I want to get it right
No comparing, second guessing, no not this time
Three months and I'm still breathing
Been a long road since those hands I left my tears in but I know
It's never really over, no
Spencer set the bottle on the nightstand and fell back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. A cry of frustration mixed with anguish filled the room. He knew that the booze was a significant part of his life, it always had been. He also knew that he couldn't go back there to that place until he had kicked it once and for all.
Luke knew of the temptations that awaited him. The cart of alcohol kept in the living room of the Quartermaine mansion, the bars he frequented, the Haunted Star, his own club--which even though long closed to the public, still got regular visits from vendors selling the same toxins that he was trying to purge from his body.
Luke sat up and got out of the bed and walked over to the dresser. Grabbing his wallet from the top of the television, he pulled out a sheet of paper that was folded in fourths. Unfolding it, he looked at the printed page from the front page of the Port Charles Herald that he saw online. The page containing the picture of his son, daughter-in-law and his new, and only, grandson. Luke smiled softly as he looked at the small face of Jacob Martin Spencer.
Wake up
Three months and I'm still standing here
Three months and I'm getting better, yeah
Three months and I still am
Three months and it's still harder now
Setting the paper down, he sat back down on the corner of the bed and thought back on that day in the courthouse when he lost custody of Laura to Scott Baldwin. The sight of Baldwin's self-satisfied smirk still burned a hole into Luke's psyche. He wanted to wrap his fingers around the man's neck and choke the life out of him. It wasn't long until he and Tracy were in cahoots to kidnap Laura. Luke took her on the run with him, "just like the old days, baby," he told her as he put her in the car. He drove her everywhere he could think of that they had ties to. Canada. Florida. California. Arizona. Mexico. He took her to all the old places they went to, the ones that were still around. He prayed for a flicker of recognition from her blue eyes and was inconsolable when he didn't get any.
Spencer called Scott himself and made a deal with him. Laura in exchange for charges dropped against Tracy and no charges brought against Luke.
Baldwin took it.
Scott flew out to Los Angeles and picked Laura up and Luke caught the next plane to Rome.
He drank the entire way.
Three months later, all he had was the half empty bottle of scotch, not having had a drink since that flight.
Three months I've been living here without you now
Three months, yeah, three months
Three months and I still remember it
Three months and I wake up
Three months and I'm still sober
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers
Grabbing the bottle, Luke stood up and went into the bathroom. Unscrewing the cap, he slowly poured the remains out into the toilet and flushed. Tossing the bottle into the trashcan, he walked out into the main part of the room and picked the phone up. Dialing an international call, he waited for an answer and smiled softly when he got one, "Spanky," he said softly, "I'm coming home."
Fini