One
It wasn't that long ago when Ric Lansing would wake up in the middle of the night with his nightmares still lingering in his head. His life had always been filled with chaos despite the calm persona he put on. He was Ric Lansing—he went to an Ivy-League school; he was an intelligent lawyer, business associate with Sonny Corinthos. He had no room for nightmares. He had no time to wake up in bed in a cold sweat. But, one night, they came to him again, like a sudden plague out of nowhere. As he lay in bed, he watched the moonbeam shine in his room and for a moment, he found peace.
*
Liz Webber sat in front of the blank canvas with a paintbrush in her hand. She tilted her head to the left and then to the right and to the left. "Where's my damn inspiration?" she said to herself.
And as if on cue, Ric walked in her studio. She smiled at him. "You're here early."
Ric held up a paper bag. "I bought you breakfast."
"Thanks." Liz kissed him and reached for a bagel. "I had the strangest dream last night."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it was about you."
Ric raised an eyebrow.
"I don't remember much. It's all blurry now, but I do remember feeling lost, like you had left me," Liz said.
Ric placed his hands on her arms. "It was just a dream, Elizabeth."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." She wrapped her arms around him as Ric frowned, not believing his own words.
*
"How's the file coming?" Sonny Corinthos looked at his lawyer for an answer, but Ric seemed a million miles away. "Did you hear me?"
Ric blinked and looked up at Sonny. "I'm sorry. The file still needs some work."
"Well, get to it," Sonny said, leaving the office.
Ric reached for the file, but his attention quickly went back to the dream he had last night. The one he had not dreamt of for so long. Why would it come back to him now? The long dark hair and clear eyes that reflected his smile. Why was her face back to haunt him? "Kendra." He had to say her name out loud, to make her real again, to make her as real as his dreams.
*
Jake Lansing sat in the airport's cafeteria, poking at his food. In a few days, he would in Port Charles, New York. In a few hours, he would be reunited with his older brother.
"How're you doing?" Kendra Meyers took a seat across from Jake.
"Fine, considering the fact that we're going to be seeing Ric again," he said.
"I know it's a been a long time—"
"Seven years," said Jake.
Kendra nodded. "Seven years, but he's alive, Jake. That's a lot more than we had before."
"What about you?" Jake asked.
"What about me?"
"This is hard for you too," he said. "You two were headed for marriage and he left you."
Kendra tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "Well, I'm going to give Ric the benefit of the doubt and believe he had his reasons for leaving."
"But he could have at least tried to contact us," Jake said bitterly. "Not a single phone call or letter. If we hadn't hired that private investigator, we would have never known he was in New York."
"You remind me so much of him," Kendra said, placing a hand over Jake's.
"How?"
"You fight for what you want."
*
Ric pulled the box out of his closet and sat on his bed. He opened the first envelope he grabbed and started reading the letter.
Dear Jake:
New York is everything I thought it would be. I think you would like it here. It's fast-paced and busy—everything that you are, or were. Are you still like that? I was sitting in my office this morning and I had this image of you and me playing football in the backyard at home. It's strange how that came out of nowhere. How you're doing well.
Ric
Ric sighed and put the letter back in the box. He looked down at it, his hands lingering on the dozens of the envelopes filled with letters addressed to Jake. Letters he had written, but never sent.