Title: Mrs. Corinthos
Author: Micky
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me and I am making no profit from this literary work (well, maybe that makes it seem too important, how about this piece of imagination that wouldn't get out of my head?)
Synopsis: A soliloquy of sorts by Alcazar after the episode on August 5, 2003.
Author's Note: I am a total S and C fan, but this popped into my head yesterday and I couldn't get it out. I think Alcazar could really grow on me really fast.
Reviews always welcome.
Alcazar sat on the bed next to Carly's sleeping form and tried to figure out what the hell was the matter with him.
He was the drug lord. She was the kidnapped victim. The boundaries were very straightforward.
She was Mrs. Corinthos.
And she was his prisoner.
And yet...
When he told the doctor that she was his wife it had seemed completely natural. That she could have been his wife. Should have been his wife. In some other life.
She mumbled in her sleep and he immediately turned to look at her.
Her blonde hair was tousled around her head and her freckles stood out starkly on her face. The lines of pain that had creased her face not so long ago had disappeared and she looked completely at peace. He squeezed the hand he still held in his own lightly as she sighed and settled back into deep slumber.
She was Mrs. Corinthos.
And she was his prisoner.
And yet...
Her hand, so soft and small, was so different from his own. It was pale from lack of sun and the freckles found there looked sickly and pale. His own hand was large, tan, and slightly calloused from working on the yacht.
He needed to take her out in the sun, put her on a deck chair and just let her suntan. Let the freckles he already lov... liked so much show up in full force and cover her skin.
He was jealous of her. Well, more of her husband. The husband that rarely strayed far from her mind. When he'd been telling her of his favorite palace in Italy and she'd said, "We could go on a picnic." he'd immediately pictured himself with her on a checkered blanket, a wicker picnic basket nearby and a baby in her arms, while he sat nearby and they looked out over the valley towards the ocean. And then she'd Sonny's name and it had all disappeared.
She was Mrs. Corinthos.
And she was his prisoner.
And yet...
He admired her beauty and her intelligence.
She was thin, but extremely powerful. She had overpowered his guards so many times it made him want to bang their heads together. And she was smart. She could charm anyone and she could come up with a different plan for escape every day. Some were completely outrageous and not entirely planned out but the complexity of her brain astounded him. Amazed him. Made him lov...like her even more.
She was Mrs. Corinthos.
And she was his prisoner.
And yet...
He admired her willpower. He had had one of his men investigate Carly and he had learned all about her past. Her complicated, twisted past. It showed a different side of her, an impulsive, vindictive, desperate woman. So different from the independent, self-assured, confident woman that lay here next to him.
She was Mrs. Corinthos.
And she was his prisoner.
And yet...
She was like a bolt of lightning that had lit up his life and he had somehow managed to capture in a bottle. But he knew, that like a bolt of lightning she would quickly disappear back to her previous life, her family, and her friends, that didn't include him...the enemy.
She was also a miracle worker. She had managed through pure will power to stop the contractions and convince him to wait. He, who made up his mind resolutely and never changed his decisions, had allowed her to work her magic. He hadn't been willing to do that, to risk her life, and yet she had convinced him. She had even managed to joke and try and think about other things when he knew she was suffering from immeasurable pain. Pain he had tried to take from her, even if it was only by having her squeeze his hand.
His hand.
The one that still held hers.
She was Mrs. Corinthos.
And she was his prisoner.
And yet...
He didn't want to give her back. He wanted to keep her. He was similar to a child who has found a lost dog and wants to keep it desperately. But she wasn't a dog. She was a beautiful woman who amazed and who was starting to crawl into his mind and his heart.
But she had a family in Port Charles. A husband, a son, a mother, a half brother, an uncle, and aunt, cousins, a sister-in-law, a father-in-law, and friends who were as close to her as her family.
She also had a psychopathic brother-in-law. Ric who had kidnapped her, locked her in a room, and threatened to take away this all-important child. And when Alcazar had seen her in that metal and concrete room he had realized that he needed to help this woman. He hadn't realized it in his brain. In his brain, she was a bargaining chip. No, he had realized he needed to help her in his dusty soul and rusty heart, things he hadn't used or listened to in years. And so he sat there, holding her hand. Trying to ignore the facts.
She was Mrs. Corinthos.
And she was his prisoner.
And yet...
