"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."
- William Shakespeare
~ * ~
It's cold out, a typical night in late November. The air smells like snow and the sky is a clear, inky black. I look towards the horizon and number the stars, but there are too many to count. It's a beautiful night, peaceful and calm and completely unlike my life. Everything is a mess right now: my sister's a neurotic nut in love with her client; her ex-boyfriend is leering at me; and the rest of my family is in turmoil. Yes, I feel safer now that Helena's locked up and wearing orange, but her imprisonment doesn't change her legacy; Stefan and Alexis are still coping with the pain of their childhood. I walk along the docks aimlessly, attempting to sort through my conflicted feelings. I feel so lost, so confused. I love my sister and I'd do anything for her, but there's so much space between us. My childhood was happy and loving, hers was seeped in pain and abuse; I'm capable of having normal relationships, she runs from anyone who attempts to love her. We might share the same biology, but I feel anything but close to her.
Then there's Ned. I like him, I really do. He's a nice, funny, interesting guy, but we're not right for each other. It's not like anything has happened between us, but I can see him looking at me the way a man looks at a woman. The thing is, I don't think he's really seeing me-he's seeing what he wants to see, and that's my sister. I'm just a substitute for the woman he really loves. It should hurt, but he's not doing it intentionally, so I refuse to get upset; I feel sorry for him more than anything.
Sometimes I wish I'd never come to Port Charles, never tried to find Alexis. I had a sense of purpose in my old life, a direction to head in. I don't know what I'm doing in Port Charles, what I'm supposed to gain here. I know my intention was to meet my long-lost sister, but I feel like something's missing. I need more to my life then redecorating Alexis' apartment and solving her latest crisis. I need a purpose here.
I hear music coming from one of the dilapidated buildings and I stop in front of the doorway. The signs says bJakes/b. I remember this place; Ned took me here once with a blue wig and a lot of attitude. I push open the door with a sigh, hoping to find something here to drown my sorrows in. I know I have a lot more going for me then most people: I have a place to live, a loving family, a wonderful friend--but it's not enough. I feel like I'm tolerated, not wanted; I need to feel accepted.
I survey my surroundings, breathing in the smoky air. The place is packed with all kinds of people drinking, dancing, and shooting pool. I've never really spent time in a place like this, not because I'm a Cassadine, but because I was never exposed to this lifestyle as a child. I was raised in a sheltered environment that didn't include low-class dives inhabited by bikers and hoods.
I need a drink bad. The bar is presided over by a tough woman with too-long roots and a hard smile, but I can see she has a soft spot in her heart for the hurting and downtrodden. "What can I get you, honey?" she asks.
Normally I hate it when people refer to me as "honey" or "sweetie" or any other patronizing name, but from her, it doesn't sound condescending at all. "A rum and coke, please," I say.
I take the glass and head for a table, content to silently drown my sorrows by myself. I'm halfway through my drink when the door swings open and my future walks through the doorway. I don't know it at the time of course, but the world was a strange way of throwing two lost souls together, and this stranger with his haunted eyes is the man for me. He's tall and built, with black hair in need of a cut and deep-set dark eyes. He storms by my table and heads straight for the bar.
"What'll it be?" the bartender, Jake, asks.
"The usual," he says, the anger in his voice barely restrained. I could get used to a voice like that. It's deep and rich and full of such emotion. This isn't a man who merely passes through life; he lives life and all the tangled emotions it encompasses. He drains his glass in one swallow, his face contorting for a moment as the liquor burns its way through his body. "Give me another," he demands. Jake dutifully refills the glass.
"I'll be watching you," she warns.
He shakes his head and leaves the bar, his eyes scanning the room for an empty table; there are none to be had. As he passes by mine I put a hand on his arm. "There's an open seat here," I say. "If you want it."
He looks at me for a second, those unreadable eyes of his raking my body from head to toe. "Okay." He slouches into a chair and takes off his leather jacket; I watch his biceps bulge through the thin cloth of his t-shirt. We stare at one another for a moment, sizing each other up. I flip a lock of hair over my shoulder. "So, do you have a name?" I ask.
He puts down his glass and extends his hand. "Zander."
His hand is large and strong, but surprisingly gentle. "Kristina," I say.
"You must be new here," he says and takes a sip of his drink.
"Why do you say that? Do you know everyone who passes through?"
He nods towards a staircase in the back. "I live here. I know most of the regulars."
"You spend a lot of time down here?" I ask.
"Enough."
"Think you can answer a question in more then one word?"
His jaw tightens and he leans forward slightly. "Look, you invited me over. You take what you get."
I cock my head and study him, from those angry eyes to the stubborn tilt of his jaw. "Are you always this obnoxious?"
He glares at me. "I came here to be alone. I don't need this kind of crap from a total stranger."
"No one's keeping you here."
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. It's been a rough few weeks and I'm taking it out on you."
"I'm not that fragile. You want to talk about it?"
He looks at me strangely. "What do you care? You don't even know me."
"Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger; they can't judge you the way people who know you do."
"There's not much to talk about."
"This is about a girl isn't it?"
His head snaps up. "Why do you say that?"
"Isn't it always about a member of the opposite sex?"
He pauses for a moment. "She dumped me."
I smile sympathetically. "I figured as much. What happened?"
He leans back in his chair and finishes off the drink. "Her brother told her a lie about me and she believed him."
"So she dumped you?"
He nods sullenly. "It's a long story."
"It's not like I have any place to go."
"We have a complicated history. Her family doesn't approve of me; they never have and I doubt they ever will."
"And. . ."
"And her brother lied to her. He's an alcoholic; he told her I forced him to drink."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because the man I work for wants his son."
I gasp. "You think it's okay to take someone's child a way from him?"
He frowns. "I don't know. I never really thought about it. I just do what I'm told."
"That's real brave of you."
A hint of a smile curves his lips. "You're making fun of me."
"I think you're a coward. What kind of man are you, taking orders without even thinking about the consequences? No matter how miserable a human being your ex's brother is, he still deservers to be a part of his child's life. I'm disappointed in you."
He laughs disbelievingly. "You have no right to judge me."
I lean closer to him. "I have every right to judge you. I'm adopted; I didn't even find out till recently. I love my family and had a wonderful childhood, but it hurt to find out I wasn't really theirs. You're not God; you don't have the right to decide someone else's fate."
"You done preaching?"
I glower at him. "I think you get the point."
"Are you always this judgmental?"
"What you did was wrong! I don't blame your girlfriend for dumping you!"
He leans even closer and his eyes burn an ebony fire. "Don't you dare talk about her. You don't know the situation."
"You just explained it to me!"
"I told you the basics. You missed the part where I grew up on the streets with no parents, no "loving childhood." I had to fend for myself and I would have done anything for someone to love me, even if it wasn't my own parents. You're not a parent because of biology; you're a parent because of how you love your child. AJ is a rotten piece of trash, and while he might biologically be the father, he isn't the father Michael needs. "
"AJ?" I ask. "As in AJ Quartermaine?"
"You know him?"
"I live with Ned."
His eyes widen slightly. "Ned Ashton? Does Alexis know about you?"
I suck in a breath. "You know Alexis?"
"We're friends."
"She's my sister."
A hand slams down on the table. "Her sister! She never told me she had a sister."
"She never knew," I whisper.
He cocks an eyebrow. "So, you're a Cassadine?"
"Yeah, I guess, I am."
"Anyone tried to poison you?"
I laugh softly. "Not yet. Helena's in jail."
"Interesting," he says.
We sit there for a minute or two in silence, brooding over the dreary conversation we just had. After a little while I decide I've had enough. I'm intrigued by Zander and his painful past; it almost makes me forget about my own miserable situation. I like him, and not just his physical attributes. Despite the argument we just had, I feel some sort of kinship-understanding-with him; I feel like I've known him forever and it's only been an hour.
I glance up from my thoughts and find him watching me with those troubled dark eyes. I wonder what kinds of secrets are hidden in their ebony depths, what kind of pain he's hiding from the world. I want to know him better, to find out what he's like underneath the rough edges and hard façade; I want to see the real Zander.
I remember my mother always telling me there's no time like the present and I take advantage of the current situation. We're both upset, both hurting-and both alone. Why shouldn't we make each other feel better? If nothing more comes out of tonight then friendship, I'll still feel like I'm accomplished something, like I've finally made a real connection in this wasteland of a town. I flip my hair a little and smile broadly at him. "We didn't get off to a very good start, did we?"
"Not really."
I stick out my hand. "I'm Kristina."
He looks skeptical, but takes my hand and shakes. "Zander."
"Let's wipe the slate clean," I suggest. "We both said some mean things. We should start over."
"Okay. . ." he says hesitantly.
"You start," I say. "Ask me anything, anything you want."
He takes a moment to think. "Why are you here?"
"I'm having a bad day. I thought I could make my problems go away for a few hours."
He looks pointedly at my drink. "With a rum and coke?"
"Hey!" I defend myself. "I happen to like it, even if it is wimpy."
He rolls his eyes. "Is it solving the problem?"
I grimace. "Not really."
"What exactly is the problem?"
I sigh. How can I explain this to him? "I'm just feeling a little lost, okay? I'm trying to figure out why I'm even in Port Charles."
"I'm guessing this has something to do with Alexis?"
I sigh heavily and trace a bead of moisture on my glass. "I love her, I really do. She's my sister and she means the world to me. . .but I don't feel close to her. Yeah, we just met and I don't expect us to be instant friends, but I just don't feel a connection to her. She's so out in her own world and I spend my time hanging out with Ned."
He winces. "Ouch."
"Yeah," I say. "I like Ned, but I didn't come here to spend time with him. I'm grateful for her trying to take care of me, but I need more from her. If she isn't going to make an effort to spend time with me, there's no reason for me to stay here."
"Have you talked to her about how you feel?"
"No. She's too busy chasing after Sonny Corinthos to talk to me."
He perks up at the mention of Alexis' crush. "What is she doing with Sonny?" he asks.
"Finalizing his divorce."
"So, he's finally ending it with Carly."
I look at him curiously. "You seem to know a lot about Sonny Corinthos."
"He saved my life, he and Alexis. I owe them everything."
"I see. It seems like everyone in this town owes Sonny Corinthos in one way or another."
It's his turn to be surprised. "You're in debt to him?"
"He protected me from Helena. I guess he saved my life too."
Zander smiles and for an instant, the angered bitterness in his eyes seems to disappear. But before I can blink it's back again, along with his tough resolve. "We seem to have more in common than we thought."
I nod. "Zander?" I ask. "Why are you really here?"
"Same reason as you. I thought I could drown my sorrows in the bottom of a bottle."
"You should never drink alone."
"I'm not, am I?" he asks. "That's why I found you." He looks right in my eyes and something seems to sizzle between us.
I clear my throat nervously. "Or any other girl who came along."
He shakes his head. "No, you're different. You're the first girl in a long time who's been honest with me. I needed to hear that speech about AJ."
I pat his hand. "I needed to hear what you said too. I never thought about how the other side feels."
He's staring at our hands, where mine is resting on top of his. "There're always two sides to every story." He moves his hand and I awkwardly put mine in my lap. He smiles at me and my breath catches in my throat. His smile changes his entire face, makes him seem like the innocent boy he is, not the battle-scarred man he pretends to be. "Another drink?" he asks.
"Sure," I say. I have nothing to lose: the night is young, I have company, and for a few hours, I can push away thoughts of Alexis and our broken relationship.
~ * ~
Please, please, please, respond!
- William Shakespeare
~ * ~
It's cold out, a typical night in late November. The air smells like snow and the sky is a clear, inky black. I look towards the horizon and number the stars, but there are too many to count. It's a beautiful night, peaceful and calm and completely unlike my life. Everything is a mess right now: my sister's a neurotic nut in love with her client; her ex-boyfriend is leering at me; and the rest of my family is in turmoil. Yes, I feel safer now that Helena's locked up and wearing orange, but her imprisonment doesn't change her legacy; Stefan and Alexis are still coping with the pain of their childhood. I walk along the docks aimlessly, attempting to sort through my conflicted feelings. I feel so lost, so confused. I love my sister and I'd do anything for her, but there's so much space between us. My childhood was happy and loving, hers was seeped in pain and abuse; I'm capable of having normal relationships, she runs from anyone who attempts to love her. We might share the same biology, but I feel anything but close to her.
Then there's Ned. I like him, I really do. He's a nice, funny, interesting guy, but we're not right for each other. It's not like anything has happened between us, but I can see him looking at me the way a man looks at a woman. The thing is, I don't think he's really seeing me-he's seeing what he wants to see, and that's my sister. I'm just a substitute for the woman he really loves. It should hurt, but he's not doing it intentionally, so I refuse to get upset; I feel sorry for him more than anything.
Sometimes I wish I'd never come to Port Charles, never tried to find Alexis. I had a sense of purpose in my old life, a direction to head in. I don't know what I'm doing in Port Charles, what I'm supposed to gain here. I know my intention was to meet my long-lost sister, but I feel like something's missing. I need more to my life then redecorating Alexis' apartment and solving her latest crisis. I need a purpose here.
I hear music coming from one of the dilapidated buildings and I stop in front of the doorway. The signs says bJakes/b. I remember this place; Ned took me here once with a blue wig and a lot of attitude. I push open the door with a sigh, hoping to find something here to drown my sorrows in. I know I have a lot more going for me then most people: I have a place to live, a loving family, a wonderful friend--but it's not enough. I feel like I'm tolerated, not wanted; I need to feel accepted.
I survey my surroundings, breathing in the smoky air. The place is packed with all kinds of people drinking, dancing, and shooting pool. I've never really spent time in a place like this, not because I'm a Cassadine, but because I was never exposed to this lifestyle as a child. I was raised in a sheltered environment that didn't include low-class dives inhabited by bikers and hoods.
I need a drink bad. The bar is presided over by a tough woman with too-long roots and a hard smile, but I can see she has a soft spot in her heart for the hurting and downtrodden. "What can I get you, honey?" she asks.
Normally I hate it when people refer to me as "honey" or "sweetie" or any other patronizing name, but from her, it doesn't sound condescending at all. "A rum and coke, please," I say.
I take the glass and head for a table, content to silently drown my sorrows by myself. I'm halfway through my drink when the door swings open and my future walks through the doorway. I don't know it at the time of course, but the world was a strange way of throwing two lost souls together, and this stranger with his haunted eyes is the man for me. He's tall and built, with black hair in need of a cut and deep-set dark eyes. He storms by my table and heads straight for the bar.
"What'll it be?" the bartender, Jake, asks.
"The usual," he says, the anger in his voice barely restrained. I could get used to a voice like that. It's deep and rich and full of such emotion. This isn't a man who merely passes through life; he lives life and all the tangled emotions it encompasses. He drains his glass in one swallow, his face contorting for a moment as the liquor burns its way through his body. "Give me another," he demands. Jake dutifully refills the glass.
"I'll be watching you," she warns.
He shakes his head and leaves the bar, his eyes scanning the room for an empty table; there are none to be had. As he passes by mine I put a hand on his arm. "There's an open seat here," I say. "If you want it."
He looks at me for a second, those unreadable eyes of his raking my body from head to toe. "Okay." He slouches into a chair and takes off his leather jacket; I watch his biceps bulge through the thin cloth of his t-shirt. We stare at one another for a moment, sizing each other up. I flip a lock of hair over my shoulder. "So, do you have a name?" I ask.
He puts down his glass and extends his hand. "Zander."
His hand is large and strong, but surprisingly gentle. "Kristina," I say.
"You must be new here," he says and takes a sip of his drink.
"Why do you say that? Do you know everyone who passes through?"
He nods towards a staircase in the back. "I live here. I know most of the regulars."
"You spend a lot of time down here?" I ask.
"Enough."
"Think you can answer a question in more then one word?"
His jaw tightens and he leans forward slightly. "Look, you invited me over. You take what you get."
I cock my head and study him, from those angry eyes to the stubborn tilt of his jaw. "Are you always this obnoxious?"
He glares at me. "I came here to be alone. I don't need this kind of crap from a total stranger."
"No one's keeping you here."
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. It's been a rough few weeks and I'm taking it out on you."
"I'm not that fragile. You want to talk about it?"
He looks at me strangely. "What do you care? You don't even know me."
"Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger; they can't judge you the way people who know you do."
"There's not much to talk about."
"This is about a girl isn't it?"
His head snaps up. "Why do you say that?"
"Isn't it always about a member of the opposite sex?"
He pauses for a moment. "She dumped me."
I smile sympathetically. "I figured as much. What happened?"
He leans back in his chair and finishes off the drink. "Her brother told her a lie about me and she believed him."
"So she dumped you?"
He nods sullenly. "It's a long story."
"It's not like I have any place to go."
"We have a complicated history. Her family doesn't approve of me; they never have and I doubt they ever will."
"And. . ."
"And her brother lied to her. He's an alcoholic; he told her I forced him to drink."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because the man I work for wants his son."
I gasp. "You think it's okay to take someone's child a way from him?"
He frowns. "I don't know. I never really thought about it. I just do what I'm told."
"That's real brave of you."
A hint of a smile curves his lips. "You're making fun of me."
"I think you're a coward. What kind of man are you, taking orders without even thinking about the consequences? No matter how miserable a human being your ex's brother is, he still deservers to be a part of his child's life. I'm disappointed in you."
He laughs disbelievingly. "You have no right to judge me."
I lean closer to him. "I have every right to judge you. I'm adopted; I didn't even find out till recently. I love my family and had a wonderful childhood, but it hurt to find out I wasn't really theirs. You're not God; you don't have the right to decide someone else's fate."
"You done preaching?"
I glower at him. "I think you get the point."
"Are you always this judgmental?"
"What you did was wrong! I don't blame your girlfriend for dumping you!"
He leans even closer and his eyes burn an ebony fire. "Don't you dare talk about her. You don't know the situation."
"You just explained it to me!"
"I told you the basics. You missed the part where I grew up on the streets with no parents, no "loving childhood." I had to fend for myself and I would have done anything for someone to love me, even if it wasn't my own parents. You're not a parent because of biology; you're a parent because of how you love your child. AJ is a rotten piece of trash, and while he might biologically be the father, he isn't the father Michael needs. "
"AJ?" I ask. "As in AJ Quartermaine?"
"You know him?"
"I live with Ned."
His eyes widen slightly. "Ned Ashton? Does Alexis know about you?"
I suck in a breath. "You know Alexis?"
"We're friends."
"She's my sister."
A hand slams down on the table. "Her sister! She never told me she had a sister."
"She never knew," I whisper.
He cocks an eyebrow. "So, you're a Cassadine?"
"Yeah, I guess, I am."
"Anyone tried to poison you?"
I laugh softly. "Not yet. Helena's in jail."
"Interesting," he says.
We sit there for a minute or two in silence, brooding over the dreary conversation we just had. After a little while I decide I've had enough. I'm intrigued by Zander and his painful past; it almost makes me forget about my own miserable situation. I like him, and not just his physical attributes. Despite the argument we just had, I feel some sort of kinship-understanding-with him; I feel like I've known him forever and it's only been an hour.
I glance up from my thoughts and find him watching me with those troubled dark eyes. I wonder what kinds of secrets are hidden in their ebony depths, what kind of pain he's hiding from the world. I want to know him better, to find out what he's like underneath the rough edges and hard façade; I want to see the real Zander.
I remember my mother always telling me there's no time like the present and I take advantage of the current situation. We're both upset, both hurting-and both alone. Why shouldn't we make each other feel better? If nothing more comes out of tonight then friendship, I'll still feel like I'm accomplished something, like I've finally made a real connection in this wasteland of a town. I flip my hair a little and smile broadly at him. "We didn't get off to a very good start, did we?"
"Not really."
I stick out my hand. "I'm Kristina."
He looks skeptical, but takes my hand and shakes. "Zander."
"Let's wipe the slate clean," I suggest. "We both said some mean things. We should start over."
"Okay. . ." he says hesitantly.
"You start," I say. "Ask me anything, anything you want."
He takes a moment to think. "Why are you here?"
"I'm having a bad day. I thought I could make my problems go away for a few hours."
He looks pointedly at my drink. "With a rum and coke?"
"Hey!" I defend myself. "I happen to like it, even if it is wimpy."
He rolls his eyes. "Is it solving the problem?"
I grimace. "Not really."
"What exactly is the problem?"
I sigh. How can I explain this to him? "I'm just feeling a little lost, okay? I'm trying to figure out why I'm even in Port Charles."
"I'm guessing this has something to do with Alexis?"
I sigh heavily and trace a bead of moisture on my glass. "I love her, I really do. She's my sister and she means the world to me. . .but I don't feel close to her. Yeah, we just met and I don't expect us to be instant friends, but I just don't feel a connection to her. She's so out in her own world and I spend my time hanging out with Ned."
He winces. "Ouch."
"Yeah," I say. "I like Ned, but I didn't come here to spend time with him. I'm grateful for her trying to take care of me, but I need more from her. If she isn't going to make an effort to spend time with me, there's no reason for me to stay here."
"Have you talked to her about how you feel?"
"No. She's too busy chasing after Sonny Corinthos to talk to me."
He perks up at the mention of Alexis' crush. "What is she doing with Sonny?" he asks.
"Finalizing his divorce."
"So, he's finally ending it with Carly."
I look at him curiously. "You seem to know a lot about Sonny Corinthos."
"He saved my life, he and Alexis. I owe them everything."
"I see. It seems like everyone in this town owes Sonny Corinthos in one way or another."
It's his turn to be surprised. "You're in debt to him?"
"He protected me from Helena. I guess he saved my life too."
Zander smiles and for an instant, the angered bitterness in his eyes seems to disappear. But before I can blink it's back again, along with his tough resolve. "We seem to have more in common than we thought."
I nod. "Zander?" I ask. "Why are you really here?"
"Same reason as you. I thought I could drown my sorrows in the bottom of a bottle."
"You should never drink alone."
"I'm not, am I?" he asks. "That's why I found you." He looks right in my eyes and something seems to sizzle between us.
I clear my throat nervously. "Or any other girl who came along."
He shakes his head. "No, you're different. You're the first girl in a long time who's been honest with me. I needed to hear that speech about AJ."
I pat his hand. "I needed to hear what you said too. I never thought about how the other side feels."
He's staring at our hands, where mine is resting on top of his. "There're always two sides to every story." He moves his hand and I awkwardly put mine in my lap. He smiles at me and my breath catches in my throat. His smile changes his entire face, makes him seem like the innocent boy he is, not the battle-scarred man he pretends to be. "Another drink?" he asks.
"Sure," I say. I have nothing to lose: the night is young, I have company, and for a few hours, I can push away thoughts of Alexis and our broken relationship.
~ * ~
Please, please, please, respond!