Love Is Not A Victory Match
Summary: It's a series of cold and broken hallelujahs. / Or, the story of a forbidden affair told in four different parts. TravisVictoria. [AU].
Notes: This is the third extension of this Alternate Universe Y&R I've written. I've written two others ("Dance in the Dark" and "In the Land of Gods and Monsters") It's just rejuvenated my imagination and made it run wild. I just loved that world so much and there is so much to play with. I've had this idea in my head for a while, and felt it was best to split it so the reader can truly take it in. I hope you get on this journey with me. There are both messed up in their own ways, but I tried to again, give them shades of their Real Genoa City characteristics. If you don't like Travis and Victoria, then this is not for you. If you don't like Villy, this is not for you. If you still don't like either one but you want to read on, that's okay too. You're welcome to all the same.
Notes: I've done a bit of a bit of tweaking, three years later in 2019. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the title, the chapter titles, the lyrics are part of the story. I own any character you don't recognize. That's about it. Feedback as always, would be much appreciated.
-Erika
PART ONE: the minor fall, the major lift
He remembered when he had met his wife years earlier while he had tunnel vision throughout medical school and she, herself, was a tenacious budding lawyer. It had been a long engagement and an even simpler wedding although his sister had wanted to make it a big one financed by her second husband. Maybe it was a genuine familial gesture, a way to overcompensate for the lost time between them although she did not like Meredith very much – correction: at all. To be fair, Sharon was a prickly woman with the riches and glamour of her life as her shield. He understood that more than anyone. Sharon had her glamour and he had his work. It was far easier to unwrap the psychological problems of another.
Morning was just starting and his mornings were cyclical. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing because there was order, structure and he liked knowing what was next. The sun would rise and then it would set and in between, he'd work, be a good husband and continue falling in love with his daughter. It was something he never aspired to, but it was fulfilling and gratifying.
Every morning, Ellie would run out and he would happily listen to the chatter of the day. He'd take her in dark curls, mocha coloured skin, bright blue eyes – a wonderful biological anomaly (although it wasn't much of an anomaly at all, but recessive genes in eye colour winning out) and what made Ellie unique – and her smile. Meredith had sworn their daughter had inherited that from him. Then she'd come out, dressing as if ready to conquer to the courtroom and still as beautiful as the rainy day they had met. This morning was different from the rest though. Something had shifted with him and he was trying desperately to find his balance against this slippery slope.
As he kissed Ellie goodbye and then Meredith, she crept into his edges of his mind. This complex, damaged, yet intriguing woman with the brown tresses, a faint smile that held her secrets and pale blue eyes with a gaze so intense he swore she could see parts of him nobody else could. It unnerved him, gave him a shot of anticipatory adrenaline and made him curious all at once. When she had smiled, those blue eyes sparkling with knowledge ensnared him.
He was sailing again. Only this time, the current was rough. The water curved itself up into a wave and then crashed down all over him yet there his patient was – a siren on jagged, dangerous rocks, laying there as if on clouds. He knew it was everything that could ever go wrong. His medical mind blared with bright red alarms and scrambled to re-draw the lines. The lines were good. The lines were his shield. The lines were his protection.
Yet for once, he did not care if he crashed and burned and the lines faded like Ellie's chalk drawing on wet asphalt. There was no Meredith here. He could Ellie screaming for him although it was distant and hard to decipher.
All Dr. Travis Crawford had was this crumbling vessel, rough waters and the all-consuming to sail to her as she called to him.
So, he did and let Victoria Abbott destroy them both.
—
I.
(creating chaos just to prove we're alive)
It's starts with the slow storm brewing in his own marriage.
He can feel it in every kiss, every touch, every smile, every taut conversation and this wrong relief he feels every time Meredith makes love to him and it's over. The sex isn't as he remembers anymore. She wants another chance – another chance to watch her belly grow, another chance to watch Ellie's face light up with every movement and kick.
She doesn't want the silence.
He can't possibly verbalize it and Meredith's screaming and sobbing gives him a healthy distraction, but while he consoles his wife, he's relieved.
The silence is the loudest sound and he wants to marinate in it.
—
When he arrives into his office, there's Ren. There's always Ren.
Today, she's in a red dress with a black blazer. Her dark hair is up in a bun. Her brown eyes don't have their usual heavy eyeliner. Although, she's focused on the computer in front of the screen in front of her. She's a mix of paternal Welsh and maternal Japanese and has quirkiness for days. He can respect that she makes his days easier to get through.
Ren also has this ability to say things that are in the grey area between inappropriate and glaringly true.
"Your coffee is brewing and your sister is responsible for the obscenely fat rolls of bills catching sweat between my boobs," she says, tapping a few keys and then turns to him when her usual bright smile. "Oh!" Ren goes into a drawer, and drops a fold on her desk. "New tortured soul for you. How's your morning?"
Travis studies her, and blinks, "Wait. Sharon's here? And…she gave you money?"
"Yes, and yes," Ren says, and corrects. "Well, it was a bribe, more than a gift, but all those bills are resting quite comfortably."
"She was out of line to do that. Give it back."
Ren laughs, "Look who woke up humorous today. Snaps to Ellie. No can do, Doc. And no," she adds with a playfully smug look on her face, "you can't fire me because I am the wind beneath the sails here and two, you'd be sleeping here every night. You need me."
His relationship with Ren is somewhere between professional and friendship. She's been his friend. His confidante. His conscience. His best bantering partner and the best honorary aunt to Ellie ever. He lets a chuckle out and it's one of the few moments of non-tension in his day. "Yes, I need you but you have to return the money."
"Thank you for admitting the truth and you're gonna have to get it yourself." Then she turns serious and lowers her voice. "Seriously, how is your morning?"
Travis takes the patient file and let his eyes travel over the details.
Married. Mother of three. Multiple suicide attempts. Childhood trauma. Prone to slight psychosis. Elavil. Extreme mood swings. Clozapine. Multiple institutionalizations. Manifestations of borderline personality disorder although shown to have above average intelligent quotient. Patient has visual and auditory hallucinations.
He furrows a brow, and flips through a few more pages.
"Hmm. My mornings are the same."
"Alright. I'll leave that alone."
"Thank you." Travis glances up at Ren. "When did this arrive?"
"Last night. I came in early, organizing it for you. It seems that you're pretty much the end of the therapy road. Her brother picked you out. Nicholas Newman? That name ring any bells?"
Nicholas Newman. His sister's ex-husband. His former brother in law. The one with a boatload of bravado. The one he doesn't care for. Yes, that Nick Newman. His incoming patient is his sister.
"Yeah," he sighs, rubbing a tense spot near his temple. "He's my former brother-in-law."
"Shit! Your world just got claustrophobic."
Travis tosses her a look that clearly says he's aware and doesn't want to be.
"You can decide to make my sister's bribe, not one anymore," he warns as he walks toward his office and toward whatever Sharon has to say to him or whatever issues she has.
"I lied, Travis," he hears Ren's voice behind him with the sounds of keyboard strokes. "I put the money in my underwear."
He almost outright laughs. Almost.
She can't be serious about that.
However, it's Ren – so she is serious and he loves her for it.
—
Sharon looks amazing as always with her expensive clothes, even more expensive shoes and well, the jewelry is part of her. It's as if Sharon wears pieces of the sun and the rest of them have to wear shades. Although, if he is being honest, Travis still thinks Sharon would shine as brightly as the entire solar system with the aesthetics.
Nonetheless, there she sits, in the chair opposite his desk, eyes sharp and whole demeanor annoyed.
"When?"
"Well, hello to you too, Sharon."
"Travis, this isn't a game."
"Wasn't aware we were playing one."
"Your marriage!" she finally snaps. "When are you divorcing her?"
He sets the patient file down, and finds a pen on his desk. Maybe it's a nervous tick or a way to have his brain focus on dexterity, Travis twirls a pen between his fingers. It's something he does since his medical school days. He forces his brain to visualize this pen twisting through and between his fingers from index to pinky and back again.
He stops, leaving the pen to stay between his middle and index fingers before setting it on his desk.
"You're my sister and I love you, but no. You absolutely cannot do this."
Sharon remains cool again, sits, and raises an eyebrow. "Do what? Tell you the truth? Because here it is, little brother. You had a stillbirth. It was awful and you can't deal with it. Or is it because Meredith cheated on you repeatedly only to get pregnant and you were happy that child died and you didn't have to know? You can't tell me you didn't have questions."
"He was mine, okay? And yes, I had questions and demanded a paternity test from the get go. Don't assume you know anything about Meredith and our marriage. We're not you and Nick. We're not even you and Jack," he rebuts even when Travis feels every nerve stretching like guitar strings. With every word out of her mouth, they vibrate, being plucked and sounding out of tune.
She smirks, "Women are petty. I'm petty. You give her another baby or she will take the one you already have. She will take Ellie from you," she sighs, looking like his sister, not like the queen who doesn't quite love her king but loves his power. "Every conversation starts with her undertones of her affair and ends one-sided wishes of a new baby, no? You can't live like that."
Yes, his mind speaks quietly.
"She wouldn't."
The thought of anybody taking his little girl from him would drive Travis to a kind of rage that would border on insanity. He'd gladly welcome it.
"Do you know what she's a capable of? Or, do you think you love her enough?"
"I don't love her! Is that what you want to hear, because I hate thinking it. It's not easy for me to pick up a pen and divorce papers. I don't know how I feel about her, but it's not how I felt when we met, Sharon…"
It's sounds like him, feels honest, feels real and now, the truth is out there. It's set free from wrapping itself around in his head.
"I knew that. Only because you wake up one way and when you look at them, it's completely different. I know you," she softens her tone. "Say the word and I will use every connection I have to help you. Dad wasn't present and when he was, he was a piece of a shit. He still is. Mom was sick," she glances, looking away before hardening again. It's a switch with her. It's an emotional safety blanket, Travis understands. This – his work as a whole – is his. She stands to go and so does he.
"But we did relatively okay, didn't we?"
"We did do okay, but you're going to be better."
They hug and she kisses his cheek before grabbing her clutch purse. She's about to walk through the door when Sharon pauses and taps a manicured nail on his office doorframe before turning with a smirk and a shrug. "If it makes you feel better, I don't love Jack either and I'm waiting for Nick to die."
Travis shakes his head, and can't help but smile at his sister's antics as he watches her go.
"Don't bribe my receptionist again!"
—
When Sharon leaves, Travis goes to his desk. He's not a brother anymore. Just a psychiatrist doing his job. As he shoves his wedding photo with Meredith into a desk drawer, he decides that he is okay with not being a husband anymore. But he smiles at the framed picture of Ellie in a pink tutu, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Travis is always a father. He's always Daddy.
II.
(word on the street you're running low, lately)
Victoria doesn't want therapy therefore she won't go as much as she loves Nick for getting her into it.
Alcohol is her therapy and sex is her religion.
However, the alcohol in the house is far more limited than she likes, so Victoria smashes the last empty bottle of alcohol in the house. There's no alcohol in the house and she's disgustingly sober. She watches it as gravity spends milliseconds pulling the glass down, down, down until it explodes into smaller, tinier pieces of what she loves and what she craves. But it's empty. It's fucking empty.
Victoria glances at her ring. The ruby stone glints back at her. Billy did this, it says. Billy took what you love from you, it whispers so quietly it tickles her ear. The whispers are cold and the monsters in her head are roaring loudly today. She needs to stop them and stop the screaming. Victoria needs to get what she wants back. So, she will.
She breaks more just to relieve the tension and hastily rummages to find what she needs to cause Billy maximum pain. She combs her hair back with her hand and when Victoria finally does, she smiles. The orange flame that the lighter produces when she runs the circular trigger against her thumb puts her in a euphoria stronger than any drug. It dances, twists and twirls and it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.
She releases the trigger and the dancing stops.
Fire is good. Fire makes her happy. Fire never lets her down.
Victoria walks over to the sound system and lets Ode to Joy permeate all through the house, through brick and drywall and under the roof. She spends two hours, burning through all these files written with precious Newman Enterprises secrets etched on them and a few Jabot ones in between. Billy loves these files. He loves holding them. He loves going through its content like treasures. He adores them more than her and that is fine. However, if she cannot have her vices and her liquid treasure – the ones that are always there and never leave like Daddy did – then neither will he.
She laughs and giggles the whole two hours. It's a fun process.
Paper, cinders, ash. Paper, cinder, ash. Paper, cinder, ash. Round and round it goes. When it stops, only Victoria knows and it makes her feel powerful.
—
Meredith storms in, all heels, straightened hair and agitation that seems palpable.
"What's wrong? Is it Ellie?"
"No. She's fine."
She paces.
"Okay, good. Well, how did trial go?" Travis asks his wife because it's the right thing to do, but there is a set frown on her glossed lips and clear anger in her eyes.
"It went fine. I won," Meredith grinds out and blows out an irritated breath. "You're the therapist in the room. Explain what the hell is going on in your bitch of a sister's head. Please, Travis."
He can't control Sharon and what she does. She's a free thinking person with her motives and reasoning. However, it's not okay of her to bother Meredith though, no matter how many ways he keeps letting her know.
"I can't handle Sharon. I'm sorry. What exactly did she say?" Travis questions, mentally going through a list of all the abrasive, scathing things she could say and discreetly cringing at each one. However, he finds that Meredith's presence right now rubs his insides like sandpaper against tissues, nerves and muscle.
Meredith laughs and shakes her head. "I'd choke her if Ellie didn't love her. She basically said our marriage was a joke and she'd laugh the day I saw it. She said I didn't even know you and that was the greatest tragedy of all," she admits and Travis twirls that pen again. "She gets off on being cruel."
"It's not okay for her to rattle you this way. I understand," Travis assures, looking her in the eye from his seat. She stays across from him. He wants to see the girl who dances with no rhythm whatsoever and still laughs which in turns makes him laugh. Travis wants to see the woman who wings her wedding vows but it still means everything to him. He wants to see the woman who is especially radiant as her pregnancy with their daughter progresses. Instead, Travis sees the lawyer, the other man. He sees Meredith in his arms as hands that aren't his, explore every curve of her body, hears a barely audible moan that doesn't weave in between the syllables of his name. He sees Meredith in the throes of another pregnancy that leaves him with questions than joy. Then he sees himself: trying not to sigh with relief when the baby boy discovered as his son die before he gets to live. Travis glances away, as his insides turn cold. "I'll take care of my sister. Again, I apologize – I, uh, have a new patient so I really like to be done reading through the patient file."
"Uh, yeah, of course," Meredith says, hastily and stands up. She adds, in a measured tone even though the anger and annoyance is there still, albeit less intensified. She meets his eyes – hers, a dark brown and sometimes a lighter shade depending on lighting – and then stares at the spot on his desk, their wedding photo now a ghost. He hears Meredith inhale sharply as if trying to navigate something internal break. There's no them anymore. Just Ellie. Her drawing is on the wall next to his multiple degrees. Meredith turns solemn yet she offers a wry smile. "Will you be home for dinner?"
"I'll be home before Ellie's bedtime."
Meredith raises an eyebrow. "That late?"
Travis shrugs, "I can't control when my patients need me. You know that."
"Can you control when Ellie needs you? What about when I need you?" Meredith nearly snaps, and stops and quickly wipes a tear from her cheek. "It's just… ever since we lost our son, you've been so distant. I'm just frustrated. I love that you're so passionate about your work, but when did you stop being passionate about me? I did everything right to protect our boy, to make sure he was healthy and he's still gone. I need to know if you blame me. Please just…"
Something like guilt settles in Travis' gut and he finds himself rushing to her.
"Hey, hey, hey… stop," he cuts her off gently, and like an old habit that refuses to die, Travis finds himself wiping away another tear with the pad of his thumb. "I don't blame you for anything. Stillbirth is a possibility when it comes to pregnancy. It's nobody's fault."
"I forgot how good you were at talking people down," she notes with a smile, and kisses him. Meredith's smooth hand remains on his face. "Can I pull you away for a bit?"
"Wish I could but," Travis gestures to the patient files on his desk, papers with notes in the margins. He likes to see the patient in his mind and filling in their shading before he meets him in full technicolour, "I have a bit of heavy reading."
She nods, resigned and heads towards the open door before she pauses.
"Sharon," Meredith says, voice small as her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears. "She's not right, is she? About our marriage?"
There's a pause that seems to go on forever when it's been a few seconds.
Travis glances down at the silver band around his finger and suddenly, he can't figure out what it means to him anymore. Although, he's trying to grasp onto something concrete and definite, but it's all so fluid.
"No," Travis lies yet answers her with just enough certainty to mask it as truth. He has patients armed with this ability. "It's just Sharon being Sharon."
"Okay. Thanks."
"No problem."
"Try your best to be home sooner?"
"Sure.
"I love you."
He says it back. It feels hollow like the rest of him.
—
Billy can take Victoria's liquid gold, but he can't take her fairy dust.
Messy, sparkly lines. Powder of magic and glitter all hers for the taking.
Victoria goes up into clouds and rays of the sun intertwine themselves in her hair. She's laughing, wild and free because she can see. Victoria can see him, tall as she remembers. His gaze is sharp like a hawk, his moustache still the same but he smiles and there's a twinkle in his eyes.
He's walking toward her and with every step, the ground gets a tremor that sends a jolt of recognition through her body. She wants to see him or she won't see at all. Then the sky rips open, stars fall and turn into falling fire. Victoria's falling with it and lands in the dirt. It burns. It all burns. It's everywhere – under her skin, in her veins, the spaces between her ribs. The fire squeezes the breath out of her.
Warmth gushes out of her and she sees it. Sticky, dark and the same colour as her ring. It's on her hands and it won't stop. It's everywhere.
Arms grab her and now, she's fighting against their grasp.
There's a voice in the haze, somewhere in the fire that burns all around her and will choke her with its smoke. It's soft and trying to make the screaming in her head stop. She recognizes the arms, cradling her. She recognizes the hands stroking her hair. More than anything, Victoria recognizes safety and security.
Nick.
"Vick, it's me…it's me."
"They're back. Make them go away. Make them…go away. Make them leave!"
She's shaking because her magic has turned dark now.
Billy let us in and we will stay. You will never free of us, darling. Don't you know?
—
Travis forgets to mention that Ren is sometimes, his shadow.
Has he been around her so long she can suddenly read his mind, and flip through that she does an issue of Cosmo? He doesn't realize he's been absentmindedly twisting his wedding ring, while reading until she calls him out on it. Ren appears with writing on her arm. Usually, she remembers his calls way. Today, the ink is blue and her scans her own writing.
"Call Dr. Levi at Memorial by tomorrow end of the business day. He needs to talk about an assessment with you, regarding Griffin Sawyer."
Ah, ten-year-old Griffin, his anger management patient.
"Thanks, Ren," he glances up at her. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. Your patient, Victoria Abbott," Ren says, and she cringes. "Her brother called in. It seems that she had another episode. Drugs. She started hallucinating. He found her extremely volatile. Like 'ready to go commit homicide volatile' and is a danger to herself and others. She's in a 48-hour psychiatric hold. Would you like me to have you call him back?"
Travis laughs, sardonically, "Nick Newman doesn't 'call'. He summons."
He stands, pulling on his jacket and grabbing his keys.
"Good to know," Ren replies, with a slow nod and a look of slight confusion on her features. Her eyes widen as if something rings in her hand while Travis' is running on autopilot. He's running through every detail in Mrs. Abbott's file and at the same time, tries to quell this slight pounding in his head at the possibility of dealing with Nick. In a roundabout way, they are family. Nick's kids mean he has one nephew and three nieces. They are Ellie's cousins. It stops there. He won't be bonding over beer with the guy. Ren's voice is like white noise until Travis pauses at the mention of Ellie over his mental static. "Before you go, I already know this will be a while because you have this obsessive need to be thorough. With everything."
"No, I don't. I just happen to prefer organization."
"Extreme organization," Ren argues back, folding her arms. "What the hell do I tell your wife when you inevitably can't be there to read Ellie her bedtime story?"
He looks at Ren with a look that says she should get what he's suggesting and if she doesn't, he'll borderline beg. Emphasis on borderline. Speaking of borderline, there's a patient for him to assess –
"No! No… what the hell? You want me to do it?"
"Yes. It's a win-win. You cover for me as a friend, and Ellie's been asking for you. She actually likes you and it takes her a while to stop being shy around strangers. I'll handle Meredith."
She frowns, and glares at him. "You don't pay me well enough."
He breezes by, and grins. "You have my sister's money. Payment by association."
"You know that's not a thing!" Ren yells at his back.
He's just kidding. Travis will get her a raise.
Maybe.
However, he does have to make it Memorial and get to his patient's doctor before he becomes a real recommendation.
III.
(i've seen your dark side, now there's no turning back)
When Travis arrives to Memorial, Nick continues to rub him the wrong way. Sure, Nick is a powerful guy, in theory but he could fit the archetype of idiot.
"My sister was high out of her mind. I broke into the house only to find her huddled on the floor, clawing at herself and begging me to make them go away. What are you going to do about it?"
"Me?" he asks, almost stunned. Sharon deserves a gold medal of some sort. "You think this is an easy fix? I just have a few talks with your sister and she'll be better? She's a complex case, Nick. I have to see where she is mentally, her medication, if any other alternate forms of therapy… it's not as instant as you think. Or, at all. You care about your sister's well-being. It's admirable. I'll do what's best for Victoria and do everything to give her the best care."
"You'd better."
Travis plasters on a smile and says with a hint of sarcasm, "Have I mentioned how nice it is to know that you're divorced from my sister? Great talk, Nick."
He wonders how the hell Sharon puts up with this man for one day, much less long enough to have four children with him.
—
Nick goes back into Victoria's room and he figures he might as well meet the husband sitting in the waiting room, shoulders hunched like the weight of the world sits on him and could suffocate him.
He also meets Victoria's husband, Billy Abbott. He has dark hair, his eyes are glistening with anger, tears and he looks like a man who truly loves his wife. Like he wishes he can look at Meredith again and is trying to. Billy's tie is loose around his neck. Travis notes that the man looks exhausted in a way that goes beyond the physical kind.
"She did this to punish me," he blurts out to no one, his gaze trained on the ground. He looks up and before Travis can formally introduce himself, Billy looks up and looks at him. "Nick told me. You're my wife's new therapist?"
"Yes."
He stands and smiles although he's not happy. He offers his hand. "Ah, you're Sharon's younger brother, Travis. She's mentioned you."
"Guilty as charged."
It's a good, firm handshake.
"It seems as if we're in-laws, Doc."
Travis ponders it, and nods, with a smile of his own, "…in a Six Degrees of Separation kind of way. Maybe you could help me with something. Your wife had an appointment to see me but unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case. You said she had done something to punish you?"
He sits in the chair across from Billy because one, it's the one closest to him and two, power dynamics. Between the two of them, Travis is the one with the medical degree and license to practice, but they're both human.
Billy frowns, and rubs a hand over his face. Then he laughs, but it sounds bitter. "Yeah. Victoria has always been a troubled woman because her dad abandoned her when she was young. She had some horrible things happen to her as a kid. I've tried…everything I could possibly do to understand and empathize. I've been patient," he smiles, faintly and Travis can see a man who loves his wife. He can't relate. At least, he can feel guilty about it on some level. "When she's not like this, she's the woman I married. She's the best mother to our kids. Sometimes, when I look her in the eyes, I can almost my wife looking back at me. Then she's gone. I love her, but she loves to punish me more. I took all the liquor. So, she burned sensitive work documents she knows I can't get back in any capacity. Oh God…I can't get them back... I don't know how to win when I'm competing against her demons…."
"I'm sorry for your ordeal."
"Don't be," he answers, sharply and then apologizes. "Just… Do what you have to. My children need their mother."
Travis watches Victoria's husband twist his wedding band around his finger and he figures by the way he does this, there's a man who also needs his wife.
—
Her head is a little fuzzy, her thoughts jumbled and erratic like mental alphabet soup. The alphabet is wrong and twisted beyond anything when she has to get it back into something that looks like order. Victoria forces her eyes to focus and looks down to follow the trail of the skinny, clear tube. It ends with a needle burrowed beneath her hand, hitting a vein.
Victoria's hospital gown remains scratchy and corrosive against her skin and her throat is dry. Something has a grip on one of her wrists and when Victoria tries to pull it off, it doesn't loosen. She looks down and see a restraint of leather held together and bound with buckles. Oh, this is kinky, she thinks with a light laugh that makes her head pound slightly. There's a figure, blurry standing by her bed and hard to make out. When Victoria blinks again, it's Nick and she grins.
"Hi."
"Victoria…"
"Oh…don't furrow your brow…at me like that," she coughs, voice scratchy. Nick grabs her a cup of water and she drinks it through a straw before he takes it away and sits down again. She releases a breath and her throat feels better. "Thank you. And you're welcome."
"What do I need to thank you for?"
In the frenzy to avoid sedation, Victoria remembers the sharp sound of plastic hitting the white, glistening floor. She hopes in the middle of the medicine being ice cold spreading in the pathways underneath that Nick catches it. It's black against white. It's dark against pure, blinding light.
"You'll remember when I was set to kill the nurses that something fell. Like plastic? Perhaps, something black?" she says, behind a smile. Victoria likes this game of hide-or-seek. She's hidden away, running before Nick can see and she's waiting for him to count and find her. Come find me, Nick. Remember, Nick. Something flashes in her brother's eyes and he pauses, before retrieving that little black object from his pocket. He studies it and glances at her. "It's a…flash drive. Did you set this up?"
"This happened because I would have tried to kill myself again," she shrugs. Maybe Victoria's not creative enough. "But I was going to give you that…and then they wouldn't be quiet and I had to make them go and they got worse…"
"Don't scare me like this…"
"I'm sorry," she says, and isn't sure she's even sincere. She is, to a certain extent. Victoria is sorry where Nick is concerned. "But I was harmless to Billy drunk. I wasn't sober. Now, you can cause him harm and Jabot harm. You have a pocketful of Jabot secrets, dear brother."
"You swear I can cripple Jabot with this?"
"You can do more than cripple it. You can watch it swirl down the drain. I burned the paper version. He was stupid enough to think I wouldn't know how to break the safe open and he was going to hurt you," Victoria uses her free hand to run a hand through her hair and get rid of the agitation that sits on her chest. "He could have left you alone! He could have let me have it. He could have let me be, Nick! I don't need therapy! I don't want therapy!"
She goes to pulling against the restraint that locks against her wrist. Victoria's pulling at the straps with her nails and buckles, fingers cramping although she likes the pain.
"I don't want a damn shrink! Billy made you do this! He made you do to me! He keeps trying to save me and fix me! I don't…want to be fixed!"
Nick restrains her gently, but with enough force to get her attention.
"No," Nick says, firmly. "Billy's your husband. He loves you. I hate him, but he loves you."
What is love? Is it an idea? Is it a word people say to just make themselves feel human? Is it a small, little word that is just twisted around until it means sex that rips a person apart or the kind that makes them so wrapped up in ecstasy they can't grasp anything else? Love is the force that drives people to leave you, Victoria. Love will kill you. Love will strangle you in your sleep. Love is why we are here and will keep you safe. We will not leave you.
She can see the flecks of blue in Nick's irises.
He softens, holding her hands and grins. It's one he keeps to himself and shares with no one but her, Victoria knows this. Although perhaps, Lily gets to see it too.
"I love you, Victoria. You and me, remember? Get help for me."
Victoria remembers the brother who protects her, the one who doesn't ever leave.
"Okay," she relents, quietly and feels his lips on the side of her head. "You're a good brother."
—
Between conferencing with Mrs. Abbott's physician and cross-referencing that with her psychiatric history, he's been here a couple hours. According to Nick, she's fallen asleep. His phone rings and he leaves to take the call. Not that Travis minds it. He's thankful for it and like clockwork, his phone starts to ring.
He glances down at the screen and answers, "Ren?"
"No, Daddy, it's me. Ellie! I'm borrowing Aunt Rennie's phone."
"Hi, baby," Travis answers, and it's just now hitting him how much he misses his daughter. "You being good for her?"
"Yes. She's telling me all about Japan…" she tells him, enthusiastically. Of course, Ren would tell his kid wacky stories of things that really aren't in the mindset of an adult. But it will most likely make her happy. "Daddy, where are you?"
"The hospital," Travis then explains in five-year-old terms. "Remember what I told you about people needing me when they're heart sick?"
He helps Ellie understand the difference between being sick, as in having the flu and being heart sick like being sick on the inside. There's silence, probably Ellie being pensive.
"Oh. And someone needs you right now? Like a superhero?"
"Yeah. Something like that."
"Okay," Ellie says brightly. "I love you, Daddy."
Travis remembers Ellie putting her little feet on top of his to dance. He remembers her finally learning to ride a two wheeler, despite falling numerous times. But his daughter is resilient and doesn't care about the boo-boos. He remembers every bedtime story he ever tells her – real and imagined. He remembers the early days of her premature birth, seeing her in the clear incubator. She's tiny and helpless and Travis is by no means religious but he tosses a prayer out there in the universe and hopes for his baby's sake, it's answered. He remembers when he finally is allowed to touch his daughter, her tiny hand finds his finger. Even tinier fingers curl around it and he swears, it's love.
Travis tells Ellie he misses her and loves her to the deepest ocean, the widest sky, every star, every planet in the solar around the sun and back again.
Ellie giggles, and he can see her broad smile in his mind. "That's a lot of love!"
"Well, it's how I feel about you, sweetheart. I always will. Can you pass the phone to Ren, please? Tell your Mom I'll be home."
"Okay! Bye, Daddy," and then he hears shuffling and finally Ren's voice.
"Storytime Fairy speaking."
"Hey, Ren," Travis greets, mildly relieved she's holding down the fort for him, yet anticipating when he will have to go home and face Meredith. "Thanks again for this. For taking care of her. How's…Meredith?"
Ren answers bluntly, "She's tolerant, Travis. That's how she is. Tolerant," she goes on to explain. "She didn't mind that I was here to hang out with Ellie. I love that kid but she wanted you. She's in her study working, but I think she's hiding for a little bit. That's just me. You know why I came in early today? After weeks of resentment, I clocked my boyfriend in the face and left the house. Don't force Meredith to hurt you."
He sighs and swears under his breath.
Where's there is smoke, there will finally be fire, it seems.
—
She teases sleep and makes it think it has won, but it doesn't. Victoria will rip Mr. Sandman's arms off.
The hospital is sterile and makes her feel something like claustrophobia. The song of a bird hits her ears and causes her to wonder if she could fly. If she were to stand to on a window ledge high enough or look down over a rooftop, would she fly? If she did fly and was completely free, where would she land? Where would she go?
Victoria hears the flapping of wings and then it's quiet.
Look, the voices dark and raspy in her head speak again, that bird gets to be carried away. Freedom passes you by, sweet Victoria. What's a queen without the freedom to be their own master?
That stupid bird gets to fly. That stupid creature gets to be free.
Victoria frowns because she hates that bird.
—
Travis could say when he finally meets Victoria Abbott, the world stops or the Earth's axis tilt just the tiniest bit. There could be the loudest of bangs and the quietest of whimpers. But it's not like that all. Instead, she's in the hospital bed, held by one restraint on her wrist. He can't help but notice how beautiful she is in a wild kind of way.
His patient's hair is tousled, and her eyes are a shade of blue he's never seen before.
Travis can say when she looks at him, there's something electric.
He's left trapped between sky and sea.
He's not quite sure to define the space between. Yet.
—
Victoria realizes this new therapist of hers is cute in a straight-laced, pull-a-woman's-chair-out-so-she-can-sit, kind of way.
He looks like the type of man to bring a woman flowers after a long day at work and might even be the type to hold her hand during a walk. There's a flash of sliver as he smiles at her and offers her his hand to shake. Married. It's a soft, gentle hand. There's a tiny warmth in her chest that she can't define or make sure of so she pulls away. Victoria wishes the warmth away so it can't be twisted. It may be something good and she doesn't know how to deal with anything good. Not her. Never her.
"May I sit?"
"You're asking me?"
"Just trying to be a gentleman, first, before I get to be your therapist."
Victoria finds herself laughing, gets a look at his blue eyes again and they are kind in a disarming way. She stops laughing, and shrugs, "Okay, sure. Have a seat… what did you say your name was?"
"Dr. Travis Crawford. Nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Abbott."
"Victoria Newman," she corrects, with a smile that is barely seen. "And…likewise."
—
Travis doesn't want to do anything intensive. He doesn't even want to speak to her as if he's read the patient file neatly folded away and colour coded on his desk. He's only aiming for a free flowing conversation. He just wants to get to know her. She asks him to call her Victoria, only she can call him Travis. She is as smart as her patient file but he's realizing she's really perceptive.
Mid-sentence, she stops and stares at him, inquisitively with a light frown in her mouth.
"You went to school all these years to hear other people's problems? Why?"
Travis flashes back to being a kid who doesn't understand why he can't hear his mom's singing in his dreams anymore. His mom is gone. At first, his dad tells him and Sharon that Mom's trip is for a little while. She's gone away to get better and will be back. She's gone for three years only for Sharon to glare at their father and snap, "Tell him, you sack of crap! Tell him where Mom is! Tell him how you locked her away with no thought!"
"Sharon…" Travis' eyes dart between his dad and Sharon when he wants to focus on his math homework. Dad is mad. Sharon is screaming, angry and crying. He's scared. Mom is supposed to come back. She needs help getting back home but she's coming back, right?
"Tell me what? Mom's away at Nana's."
"Travis, go upstairs. I have to speak to your sister alone."
"No! He isn't going anywhere. Tell him. Or, I will," she mutters, choking back a sob. He doesn't like it when Sharon cries, doesn't like it when Dad is mad either, but Mom is coming back from her vacation to fix anything, right? "God, you make me sick."
—
It comes down to this:
he's eight when his mother is gone, and eleven when he is told by Sharon with tears in her eyes that their mom is dead. He's fifteen when he punches his dad in the face for hitting Sharon, sixteen when he takes a baseball bat to that beat up Chevy and promises it will be his head if he hurts Sharon at night in that way – or any other way – ever again.
—
Travis is eighteen, with Sharon being twenty-one both move out of the house, setting to head in different directions to nowhere.
With one last pinky swear, they promise to find each other again.
It feels like hours but it's been only a couple minutes. He's at the hospital. He's at the hospital with Victoria, who stares at him with no surprise or questioning in her face. There's no judgment. Travis can't help but be angry with himself. He's like that bastard into another facet of his life. Damnit. But it's not about his emotions. It never is.
"You're a drifter."
"Excuse me?"
"A drifter. You drift into some place in your head to escape what hurts you," Victoria says, bluntly, looking through him. She leans in slightly and taps an index finger against her lip, the nail painted a shiny black colour. "I don't know why you decided to have a career in listening to others when you could be – I don't know – a bartender to do that."
Travis can't possibly see himself a bartender. Maybe, he thinks, maybe in a past life.
"I'm not the bartending type, I'm afraid. But it's never about me in this space."
She nods, slowly, "Right because it's all about my deep, dark secrets. I shouldn't have asked why you're a shrink. Your eyes. There's a lot of pain there. You have demons like I do. Someone hurt you, too."
Something's happening. It's all swaying in front of him, like the gentle current of water. Travis is in the middle of his own ocean, floating, but there's a sense of alarm in his head. He could float away with no way to get back to land. He could disappear into nothing. He could be pulled downward into a whirlpool.
Travis manages an easy polite smile, answering with the only thing that comes to mind.
He straddles that line between transparency and locked secrets in a rusted mental closet. He likes the lines clear. He likes the lines, sharp and defined – knowing where one end starts and where the one starts.
"Don't we all?"
Her laughter sounds like a song waiting to be composed.
Victoria's eyes sparkle and it is her who extends her free hand so he can shake it.
Travis takes her hand in his, feeling as if he is holding a ball of electricity. Her hand is smooth and soft like expensive silk. He locks eyes with her and there is something building between them, block by block. There's something in her eyes he recognizes – something beyond his career and why he is even there.
"I think this will be a start of a beautiful partnership."
Travis drops her hand gently, and replies with a half-smile, "That's the plan, Victoria. I'll leave you to rest."
"You're a sweetheart. Thank you."
—
Victoria watches Travis go, and lays back into bed with a smile on her lips.
She might like therapy. She may like him – she doesn't know in what way yet.
Billy and Nick are both in her room now. They both pepper her with questions, but she doesn't want to tell Nick to stop or tell Billy to shut up. She's not paying attention to that – or them. Victoria is instead paying to soft electricity that bounces off the walls and the currents that travels across the windows, sparkling like glitter.
In her head, it's quiet.
—
Part of being a therapist comes with admitting the truth. It's about truths that may be right, wrong or a bit of both. Sometimes, truths are put things together and tear things apart beyond repair. Truth and deceit are conventional enemies, normal rivals, but in some instances, they are dance partners.
Here is Travis' truth as he drives home when the sun has long set and it's so dark, it seems thick enough to swallow the stars.
When he tries to conjure up Meredith's face, he's struggling to bring into clear focus.
Instead, he sees wild, tousled hair, Victoria's eyes, and her luminous smile.
There's still the expensive silk in Travis' palm.