Title: No Going Back

Author: Ms. Quartermaine

Summary: Set late summer 2006. Tracy finds Dillon in the boathouse after Lulu had her abortion.

She found him sobbing in the boathouse. He sat alone, his face buried in his hands. He must've not noticed when his mother entered because as soon as she placed a comforting hand on his left shoulder, he jumped.

"Dillon, darling?"

He wiped his dampened eyes before glancing up at her, acting as though nothing happened, "Mom? What are you doing here?"

"I figured it's time to close this place up for the winter," she responded nonchalantly.

Dillon had his moments of stupidity, but this was not one of them. "Sorry, Mom. Not buying it."

"No need to apologize for being correct."

He smiled, "What's the real reason you're here?"

"I, um, needed some time alone."

"And you wanted to come here of all places?"

Tracy shut her eyes at the hideous thought of seeing her son and step-daughter in the act, "Please. Do not remind me."

He returned to the original subject, "Why do you need alone time, Mom?"

"Why do you keep asking so many questions, Dillon?" she mocked.

She'd never tell, but she liked these conversations; reminded her of how it used to be. Before she dropped him off the Quartermaines doorstep. Before he fell in love with the Georgie girl. Before he stopped being her (his mother's) best friend.

"Mom?" he interrupted. When a wave of sadness came over her face, he became concerned. "What is it?"

She let out an exasperating sigh before responding, "Luke's gone again."

"Again?"

She just shrugged. "Are we really that surprised?"

"Um, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Oh, don't be," she put on a smile.

"But, you love—"

"Ah, ah, ah," she put a finger to his lips, refusing to let him finish. "Let's talk about you now, shall we?"

Tracy pulled up another chair, gave some thought on whether or not to actually seat herself on the unfortunate piece of furniture, before deciding that it didn't matter if it ruined her satin skirt. Spending time with her son was much more important.

"Dillon," she began softly. "When I came in here, you were, um…Well, you're upset, Dillon, and you have every right to be."

He nodded.

She responded in that motherly tone of hers, "Are you listening?"

"You're not going to give some advice right about now, are you? That's going to make me question who you are, and what you've done to my mother?"

She chuckled. "Baby, I'm here to help."

He got a bit defensive, "You can't. You, um, uh…Never mind."

"Nuh uh, what is it?"

He didn't want to discuss the abortion at the moment. His mother would never understand. Except she did understand, more than he'd ever imagined…

"I have to go," he looked at his watch and stood up.

"Sweetheart, wait." She touched his arm.

"Mom! You don't get it, all right? You don't!"

"Dillon," she swallowed, keeping herself composed. "I do get it."

Practically out the door, he turned around and wondered, "How could you possibly understand what it's like to lose a child you never had?"

She just stared at him; her lips tightly pursed together; emotions of rage, sadness, regret taking over.

"Oh my God," Dillon realized as he placed a hand over his mouth.

Tracy just nodded her head, allowing a tear to fall down her cheek.

"Oh my God," he repeated.

And she nodded again. Dillon walked over and almost pointed an accusatory finger at her, "You…You…You had—" For a second, she regretted telling him, but then Dillon realized what he was doing and stopped. "You…?" he said quietly.

"I had an abortion, Dillon," she stated, almost coldly. "I know exactly what you're going through. You will never stop wondering what that child might have been like; how she might have looked; how she might have acted—"

Dillon noticed that his mother kept referring the child as a female. "She?" he murmured.

She laughed to herself, "Sorry. I, um, I always figured the baby I didn't have was a daughter." She shrugged. "Or at least my only chance to have a daughter." She was having a hard time, and he saw his other struggling with her tears, "Look, Dillon. Bottom line is—"

"Does anyone know?" he asked.

She sighed, "Lulu. I tried…I tried stopping her from making the same mistake that I made. And well, Lulu told Luke, and yeah…," Tracy closed her eyes. "I don't suspect it'll be a secret for long."

"I won't tell anyone," Dillon promised.

"Yeah, that's what Lulu said," she retorted. "Anyway, I—"

"When?"

"Excuse me?"

Dillon had a lot of questions. "When did you have the uh, the—"

"Abortion, Dillon. The word's abortion. Lightning's not going to strike if you say it."

"You haven't answered the question."

"After Ned," she whispered. "Thought I met the next Mr. Right; I was wrong. Unfortunately, I was also pregnant. I couldn't have another child. I wasn't capable of giving it a good life. I made the decision to abort," she rambled. "Quick. Easy. Relatively painless. The end."

Her son wished he could respond. "I…," was all that came out.

"You don't have to say anything, Dillon. I just want you know that's it's all right to be upset. To grieve for something—uh, someone, some…whatever…something you never had." It scared him when she got like this…all motherly…all, dare he think it? Nice? " And that I really do know what you're going through—"

He interjected, "No one should have to go through something like this."

She shrugged her shoulders, "Maybe not, but it was my choice, and I made it, just like Lulu made hers." She spoke sternly now. "It's done, and nothing's going to change that."

"I'm still going to miss the kid I never had."

"Of course you are, baby," she started getting up.

"Just like you still miss yours, don't you? After all these years?"

"Yeah," she paused. "After all these years. Goodness, Dillon. I didn't ride a dinosaur to school." She tried using humor to counteract the sadness. But Dillon didn't laugh. His pained expression pierced her heart, and she could see his tears starting to form.

Barely audibly, she told her son, "It's all right to cry."

He blinked away his tears, "I'm not crying," he insisted.

Her maternal instincts were in full gear as she reached out to embrace him. "Come on. Shhh." He resisted at first before letting himself breakdown in his mother's arms. "Shhh," she held him close, just like she did when he was little and he scraped a knee…or had a bad dream. Contrary to popular belief, the nannies didn't do everything.

As he continued to sob, Tracy desperately wished to tell her son that'd be it'd be all right, but chances are, it wouldn't be. Maybe he'd get over it. Maybe not.

"Mom?" he pulled himself away for a second.

"It gets easier, right?"

She smiled, using her thumb to wipe a tear from his face, "Yeah," she said truthfully. "It gets easier."

"It's just…," he hesitated. "I wish this was a movie, you know?"

She wasn't in the mood for his film nonsense, but a rude, sarcastic comment about it wouldn't have made things better, so she kept her mouth shut, and listened.

"I wish I could rewind. Press that button, and just…I don't know. Sorry, I—I guess there's no going back, huh?"

She closed her eyes and swallowed, "No going back."

His lip started to tremble. "Oh my gosh, what am I doing?" He turned around, so he wasn't facing his mother. He couldn't allow himself to get like this in front of her. Not again.

"Dillon, no. It's fine," she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Shhh…"

He refused to look at her still. "Can I, uh, um, have some time alone?"

"Of course. I'll be, um, around if you want to talk."

She saw his head nodding from behind. Then, he raised his hand and signaled for her to leave. Tracy obliged, showing herself out of the boathouse and closing the creaking door behind her. When she realized no one was in sight, she placed her head on the back of the door and cried.

She knew how much it hurt him; she remembered how much it hurt her, but they were both right. There wasn't a damn thing either of them could do. It wasn't a movie, and there was definitely no going back.