a little background: Willow never gave her baby up for adoption. Brad & Lucas adopted another little boy around the same time and named him Wiley, which is why he's also in this story. Michael & Nelle's son died in childbirth. most of this follows the same timeline as GH, beginning october 2018 and finishing with the Nurse's Ball in may 2019, then the epilogue in july 2019.
story title is from "need the sun to break" by james bay.
chapter title is from "heartbreak world" by matt nathanson.
DISCLAIMER: as usual, { I own nothing }, and any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show and is credited to the writers. :-)
one / forget the lies we used to live
… … …
He's been asked a few times over the last few years when he knew he wanted to be a detective. Honestly, he never really knows how to answer that question, because it's not necessarily something he ever consciously decided. He's always felt like he was destined for a career in law enforcement, and it was never something he questioned. Others questioned him, for sure, especially when he decided to join the police force right out of high school instead of following his peers down the college route. It would have been easy for him to second-guess himself, but every choice he's made leading up to this point has just felt right.
It's something he thinks about frequently, actually; how trusting his own instincts has led him almost flawlessly to this point in his life. Save for a Nelle-sized lapse in judgment that almost cost him his career, following his gut has rarely steered him wrong. Honestly, he's one of those people who believes everything happens for a reason, so even his (very, very) wrong decisions have played their own role in leading him to this point. He wouldn't say he has no regrets, but he would say that he wouldn't change a thing.
Okay, maybe that's not entirely true. He's proud of where he stands career-wise, but there are other things missing in his life, he'll admit. His relationship with his brother could use some work (though it's not for lack of trying on his part), and he could maybe stand to make a friend or two outside of Michael Corinthos and his acquaintances on the force. Not to mention that despite the wealth of beautiful women in Port Charles, his luck in the romance department has been sorely lacking. He blames it on his job, mostly; a detective's long and irregular hours are not very conducive to a flourishing social (read: dating) life.
But honestly, he doesn't mind the long hours, not really. His aforementioned lack of social life means that he spends most nights ordering takeout, nursing a beer and watching the Sox game in his apartment. Alone. (It sounds more depressing than it is. Really. It's not actually that pathetic.)
(Okay, it actually is that pathetic.)
It's not like he wants to meet with the medical examiner at seven o'clock on a Thursday evening. He could have knocked off and gone home when his shift ended an hour ago, but this meeting was related to a case he's been assigned to, and he's never been one to shirk his duties when he's called upon. It's not like he has anything better to do, anyway.
It's eight-thirty by the time he's leaving GH, and now that he's officially off the clock, he lets his mind wander as the elevator carries him down to the parking garage. He had Charlie's for dinner last night, he muses, so it might be better to order from Kelly's. Oh, but he's pretty partial to the Floating Rib, too. Yes, he could definitely go for some wings. A quick glance at his phone informs him the Sox are already getting killed tonight, so he won't rush home to watch the game. Maybe he'll browse the on-demand movie selection he never gets to enjoy, see if there's anything worth watching.
He exits the elevator and happens to spot her as he's headed toward his car. There's a black sedan parked in a restricted area, and it looks as though the driver might be… asleep? Drunk? Dead? Surely not, he scoffs, shaking his head. Maybe living in Port Charles has made him a little bit dramatic. And paranoid.
But like he said, he's learned to trust his instincts, and something's not right here.
Technically, he's off the clock. Technically, parking violations are too trivial for a detective. But Detective Harrison Chase doesn't live his life according to technicalities.
"Miss?" he calls, rapping his knuckles against her window.
She startles immediately, her eyes wide. "What?!" she yells.
He narrows his eyes, immediately suspicious. He tries not to make a habit of passing judgment on people he's never met, but she doesn't seem intimidated by his presence, and she doesn't look the least bit apologetic. In fact, he'd describe her reaction as overly defensive. Suspiciously defensive. He'd planned to simply ask her to move her car, but now, he thinks the situation might warrant a more thorough investigation.
"Step out of the vehicle, miss," he requests firmly.
"Get away from my car, freak!"
His eyes widen in surprise, and he almost wants to laugh. He doesn't think he's been called a freak since, like, elementary school. Thankfully, he has a pretty damn good poker face, honed with years of practice, and he keeps his composure intact. It's easy, really, because she's on track to turn a routine parking violation into something involving a lot more paperwork.
He narrows his eyes, annoyance simmering to the surface. "I'm not going to ask you again."
Her reaction is almost immediate. She honks her horn repeatedly, screaming like a maniac. Something about being harassed.
His eyes widen incredulously. "Whoa, whoa, lady, I'm a cop!" He knocks on her window again, and she turns her attention back to him, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm a cop," he repeats.
Now it's her turn to narrow her eyes at him. "If you're a cop, where's your uniform?"
She raises her eyebrows, challenging him, and he has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He can honestly say he's never had someone question his legitimacy as a law enforcement officer, even without a uniform. She might be the most skeptical, distrustful person he's ever met. And he was personally involved with Nelle Benson, so that's saying something.
"I'm a detective," he explains.
"Oh, okay," she deadpans. "Listen, Sherlock, either you make tracks or I will - right over you."
And okay, he supposes he can understand why she's skeptical, why she's clearly wary of him. It's late, and she's alone, and unfortunately, in the world they live in, this is a situation in which she has every right to question him. Now is not the time to intimidate her; she needs proof that he's one of the good guys.
"Okay, look," he sighs. He stands up, moves his jacket aside to reveal his badge, thankfully still hooked to his belt. "Here's my shield, alright?"
"Your shield?" She all but scoffs at him. "Who do you think you are, Captain America? Besides, how do I know that's real?"
He takes a deep breath, reminds himself that she's entitled to question him, exhales to disguise his frustration. "If you call the station, you can verify my identity," he assures her. "Go ahead, I'll wait."
He pushes away from her car while she does just that. He rests his hands on his hips, hangs his head tiredly. He almost wishes he'd just walked right by and never noticed her sitting there. It would've saved him a whole lot of time and a massive splitting headache, and he would probably be leaving the Floating Rib with his takeout by now.
But then he turns his attention back to her, watches as she nods, her hands gesturing wildly as she speaks into her phone. He may be a cop, but he's also a man with eyes, and he's allowed to recognize that she is gorgeous. A beautiful face, big green eyes with some serious fire behind them. She's not intimidated by him one bit, and as much hassle as it's causing him, he has to admit that he kind of likes it. She looks almost deflated now, as she hangs up the phone, and she seems nervous, wary. He wonders, absentmindedly, what happened in her past that jaded her view of cops, or even of people in general.
(Sometimes being a detective is a blessing and a curse.)
She finally steps out of the car, crosses her arms in front of her. She's clearly not happy with him, but at least she believes him now. "You check out, Detective Harrison Chase."
She seems so disgruntled that he almost finds himself amused. He's fairly certain at this point that she's not intoxicated, or drugged, or whatever else he thought at first glance, but he still feels the need to thoroughly assess the situation, just in case. He pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket, holds it straight up in front of him. "Track my pen with your eyes. Do not move your head."
"Are you serious?" she mutters incredulously, annoyance simmering to the surface. She follows his instructions, flawlessly, and then sighs. "What did I do wrong?"
Ah. Finally. A question with a simple answer. "You're parked in a spot designated for authorized vehicles only."
"Oh, I guess I did." Clearly, she doesn't see any sort of significance in her infraction. "Look, I'm sorry, officer."
"Detective," he corrects, almost reflexively. He can't help it, okay? He worked hard for that title.
She's not phased. "I was… preoccupied."
"You were asleep," he argues.
"That's illegal?"
"It is when you're drunk and parked in a spot for authorized vehicles." Maybe accusing her of being intoxicated was a cheap shot, but he's having a hard time keeping his cool at this point. "Please walk a line, heel to toe."
She sighs in exasperation, but she complies with his orders, her heeled boots clicking across the concrete. Her balance kind of sucks, he muses, but she's definitely not drunk. "I wasn't sleeping," she insists.
He almost scoffs. "What, you were just resting your eyes?"
"I was taking a moment!" She whirls around to face him, and if he weren't so damn tired, he might actually enjoy how frustrated she is with him. Her fists are clenched by her sides, and he's honestly surprised she hasn't stomped her foot. She exhales in annoyance. "I'm not drunk."
"Good." He steps back, gestures toward her vehicle. "Then if you'll just move your car."
"Gladly." She rolls her eyes and huffs as she stalks toward her car, climbs inside. She rolls down the window as she closes her door and attempts to crank the key.
Nothing.
"Any day now." Okay, now he's just being a jerk. But he really is exhausted, and if she'd just moved her car to begin with, they wouldn't still be here, both clearly annoyed, wasting valuable time and energy.
She levels her gaze at him. "If you use your keen powers of observation, Detective, you might notice that my car won't start." Finally, she sighs and leans back in her seat, defeated. "I guess that's it. Arrest me. Read me my rights."
He's not sure what it is about her tone or her demeanor, but everything inside him sort of softens. She sounds about as exhausted as he feels, and it occurs to him that his irritation probably did nothing to mitigate her frustration; in fact, he's played just as much a part in escalating the situation as she has.
"Um." He feels like a jackass now, and he figures it's better to make amends than make excuses. "Don't worry, I'm not going to arrest you. But maybe I can give you a hand."
He kind of kicks himself, once he's helped her jump her battery and she's driven off safely into the night, that he didn't get her number. Or at least her name, for God's sake. He wouldn't have asked her out - not after practically convincing her she was under arrest - but it would've been nice to at least know who she is, for future reference.
Maybe he'll run into her in town, when he's not on duty. Maybe he'll get over himself long enough to actually be pleasant to her, show her the kind of guy he is when he's not at the end of a twelve-hour shift. Or maybe, she'll disappear into the night and he'll never see her again.
His instincts, though? They're telling him this isn't over. Not by a long shot.
… … …
She admits to herself, as she turns out of the parking garage, that she might need to dial down the cynicism a little bit.
Willow has a lot of reasons (excuses) why she was less than pleasant (rude) to a law enforcement officer, none of which seem all that great now in hindsight. She's surprised he didn't actually arrest her, honestly. Yeah, she was parked illegally, and yeah, it probably did seem like she was sleeping, or drunk, or whatever else he accused her of. There was a time, not too long ago, when she would have politely rolled down her window and followed orders without question.
That time is long gone.
She's seen too much, now. She knows too much about corruption in law enforcement, and in her experience, overzealous cops such as Detective Harrison Chase are generally the least trustworthy. She doesn't know enough about him to decide whether her first impressions were correct or not, but once he dropped the bad-cop act, he seemed like a nice enough guy. Nicer than most cops she's ever met, anyway.
Somewhere in the last few years, she's completely lost her faith in humanity. Where it used to be her instinct to give others the benefit of the doubt, now her fight-or-flight system seems to be in overdrive. She's skeptical of even the most polite, well-meaning people, and she wishes she knew how and when she became this person.
Okay, that's not entirely true. She knows exactly what happened. She just prefers not to think about most of it, if she can avoid it.
For most of her life, she had little stability and a whole lot of uncertainty. Her parents were constantly moving her from town to town, never staying in one place for very long. She was hesitant to make friends, to put down roots anywhere, because every attempt ended in tears as they packed up and left yet again. And then, when they finally did settle down in one place for a few years, it turned into such a toxic situation that Willow made the decision to leave for herself, at the expense of her relationships with just about everyone, including her mother. She tries to downplay it in her mind, but the truth is that she went through hell and back to get where she is today. It shook her trust in others, her confidence in herself, and the very foundation of who she is. When she left home - or the closest thing she's ever had to a home - she was broken, terrified, alone. And five weeks pregnant.
She could've handled leaving home on her own. It would've been difficult, and she still would have been terrified, but everything was made a thousand times more complicated by the fact that she was carrying a child. A child that needed to be kept as secret as possible, for as long as possible. There were so many nights - sometimes in a motel, sometimes in her car, sometimes in a temporary run-down apartment - when she laid awake, wondering if she was really strong enough to raise a child on her own. Logically, she knew she had options, and adoption could be an easy way to keep her baby safe from those who would harm him. It wasn't until she was holding her baby boy in her arms, just minutes after delivery, that she knew. Jaxon opened those blue eyes and stole her heart, and she knew in that moment that she could do this. She would love him and protect him and make sure nothing bad happened to him.
It hasn't been easy, caring for a four-month-old on her own. Late nights, early mornings, and long days at work mean she runs on little to no sleep most of the time. Between caring for Jaxon and wrangling a group of twenty-five third-graders all day, she's surprised this is the first time she's been caught 'sleeping' in her car. So yeah, maybe she could've been a little less defensive, but he could've been a little less judgmental.
She can't help but wonder if she would've handled the situation differently, had she not been exhausted and on her way to pick up her son. Would she have flirted a little more, scowled a little less? Would she have let herself notice the way his green eyes sparkled, the way the scruff on his chin highlighted his jawline? Most women probably would have swooned the second they laid eyes on him, and maybe in another life, she would've swooned, too. But nothing kills the buzz of attraction like remembering her four-month-old is waiting for her.
Willow pulls into her destination, sighing in annoyance. She doesn't like to think of the way things could have been. It only serves to distract her from everything she has to be grateful for, right here and now. And right now, she's grateful for little things like a level of friendship that allows her to walk right into a house without knocking.
She pushes open the front door and tiptoes into the entryway, carefully closing the door behind her. "Lulu," she sputters on a laugh, stepping down into the living room. "What are you doing?"
Lulu shrugs from her place on the sofa, where she's slouched with her feet propped on the coffee table. "Your son makes a pretty good shelf for my book," she jokes.
As it happens almost every day when she comes to pick up her son, everything inside her loosens at the sight of him. He's lying on his stomach on Lulu's chest, his little rosy cheek pressed to her collarbone as he sleeps. He's so small, so innocent, such a little miracle that anything she was worried about today - including her run-in with the law this evening - just fades away. She takes a seat beside Lulu on the couch, setting her bag down on the floor as she runs a hand over Jaxon's little head. "How long has he been asleep?"
Lulu purses her lips, squints in consideration. "Twenty minutes, maybe?" She pushes herself into an upright position and gently transfers the baby to Willow's waiting arms. "I tried to keep him awake, but he's been so fussy today that he hardly napped at all. He's got to be exhausted."
"Go figure." Willow chuckles, settling Jaxon against her shoulder, relieved when he doesn't stir even the slightest bit. "Maybe he's exhausted, but I'm sure he'll be up all night again, and then we'll both be exhausted."
Lulu smiles knowingly. "Welcome to motherhood, Willow Tait."
She doesn't have much experience with friendship, considering the lack of stability in her childhood, but even so, she knows how fortunate she is to have a friend like Lulu. It wasn't something she expected, befriending the mother of one of her students, but over the last three months, she's been the kind of friend Willow's only dreamed of. Case in point: she cares for Jaxon every day, free of charge, while her own kids are in school. Just one of the many reasons why she's thankful her journey led her here.
She settled down in Port Charles almost by accident. She spent the last seven months of her pregnancy running - staying in cheap motels or short-term apartments, taking whatever part-time work she could find to save some money, trying to attract as little attention as possible. After a few weeks, inevitably, she'd feel the ghosts and shadows of her past begin to catch up with her, and she'd run. In what she truly believes was a perfect twist of fate, she was passing through PC, a mile down the road from General Hospital, when her water broke. She took it as a sign that not only did she need to stop - immediately - but that maybe Port Charles was a place she and her son could call home.
Her gut feeling was only affirmed when everything just sort of fell into place. After giving birth to Jaxon, she spent a day or two at GH with Elizabeth Webber as her nurse. She was sweet and friendly and, obviously, curious about who she was and how she ended up in Port Charles. When she mentioned she might be interested in a teaching job, Elizabeth referred her to her son's elementary school, which was in need of a third-grade teacher. Willow had an interview the next week, and Principal Schultz hired her on the spot. She used the rest of her savings as the deposit on a tiny two-bedroom apartment, perfect for she and Jaxon and no one else.
But it was the day of orientation for her new students that really sealed the deal for her. In the most wonderful coincidence, Elizabeth's son Aiden ended up in her class, along with Aiden's cousin Charlotte and her mother. Lulu Falconeri quickly became a friend, someone she felt she could rely on and confide in, almost like the big sister she never had. And when Lulu volunteered to care for Jaxon during the school days, though they hardly knew one another, her gut told her she could trust Lulu to take care of her son.
And just like that, Willow had the foundation for a great life here in Port Charles, far enough away from 'home' that the shadows didn't loom so large anymore.
It hasn't been all smooth sailing, of course, and she's had more than her share of sleepless nights, wondering if (when) those shadows will finally catch up to her. She can't run forever, but there are people she needs to avoid at all costs; for herself, yes, but mostly, for Jaxon's safety. So she keeps a low profile, tries her hardest to make sure as few people know about Jaxon as possible. The fewer people who know about her son, the lower the chances of the wrong people discovering the truth.
"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Lulu asks, standing from the sofa to move toward the kitchen. "I haven't started cooking yet, but I can heat us up something really quick if you want."
"I think I've imposed on you enough for one day," Willow chuckles, holding Jaxon gingerly to her chest as she stands. She carefully leans over, gathers her bag and Jaxon's diaper bag from the floor beside her.
"Willow," Lulu says sternly, and Willow's almost startled when she looks up to find her friend standing in front of her. She grabs Willow's wrist, forcing her to meet her eyes. "When are you going to just let me help you without feeling so guilty? I've told you before - I offered to take care of Jaxon for you. I offered to cook you dinner. It's not imposing if someone offers to help you. Okay?"
"I just don't ever want you to feel like I'm taking advantage of you," Willow insists.
"I don't," Lulu insists. She ducks her head to catch Willow's eyes again. "So no more worrying about it, okay? Just drop Jaxon off in the morning and leave the rest to me."
Willow smiles gratefully, knowing it's better to quit while she's ahead than to continue to argue with Lulu. She always wins these arguments, anyway. "Okay, okay," she concedes. "But I'm still taking him home and giving you a break, and we'll see you in the morning."
Lulu rolls her eyes as they move toward the door. "Fine," she sighs. "I guess I'll let you take him. Despite what you might think, I actually love spending my day cuddling with him, and I hate when you take him away from me."
"Back off." Willow narrows her eyes playfully, moving toward her car and turning her son away from Lulu. "It's my turn for cuddles now."
As much as she hates that she can't spend her day cuddling her son, she's beyond grateful that he clearly spends his days with someone who loves him almost as much as she does. The circumstances she fell into here in Port Charles have been more than she could ever have imagined, and not for the first time, she says a silent thank you to whatever forces of God or nature or the universe led her here.
And to think, it's only been three months. She really doesn't know if it could get any better than this.
… … …
He's been in Port Charles for almost eight months now, and he finally feels like he's beginning to put down some real roots here. He wasn't sure, once the Nelle Benson case was over and done, whether or not he'd still feel the pull to be here; in fact, he almost expected to want to leave immediately, to put the entire ordeal in his rearview mirror and make a clean start somewhere else. But he has connections here now, ones that he's not sure he ever wants to leave behind. His brother and Anna, the guys at the station who have finally begun to accept him as one of their own, his new and unexpected friendship with Michael… and, of course, Lulu and her kids, who continue to treat him as one of the family, despite Dante's continued absence.
Maybe that's why he feels so guilty for kind of sort of avoiding her for the last few weeks. He knows she means well, but ever since the truth came out about his past with Jenelle, she's been hounding him to jump back into the dating world. It's not that the women she suggests for him aren't beautiful, wonderful people, but he just isn't sure he's ready to put himself back out there again. Not after he got burned so horrifically the last time. He hates that he continues to let Jenelle have that little sliver of power over him, but he still feels like he needs more time to heal from her betrayal, no matter how long it's been.
But he can't avoid Lulu forever, a point that she proved when she stalked into the squad room this morning and essentially demanded he join her and the kids for dinner that night. It's not like she had to twist his arm, or anything - he'd be a fool to turn down a home-cooked meal and a few rounds of Mario Kart with Rocco - but it does make him feel like an ass for being AWOL for so long.
In the weeks after Dante left, he struggled with how to keep an eye on Lulu and the kids without overstepping into their lives. He made a promise to his partner, and he intended on keeping it - he still does - so he got in the habit of driving past the house on his way home from work most days, just to make sure the lights were on and nothing seemed suspicious. He thought he was being covert, so he was shocked (and a little embarrassed) when Lulu called him out on it. But she did tell him that he was welcome to stop by and come on in, without an invitation, anytime he wanted to check up on them.
So even though it feels a little strange, he knocks once, then pushes the door open, calling out for Lulu as he walks in. "Hello?" He takes off his jacket, hangs it on a hook in the doorway, passes Charlotte playing on her tablet as he makes his way to the kitchen. She's so engrossed in her game that she doesn't even look up. (Kids these days, honestly.)
"Oh, Chase," Lulu sighs as she comes around the corner from the kitchen, wielding a mixing spoon. She's wearing sweatpants, her hair in a messy knot on top of her head, and the best way he can describe her facial expression is frazzled. She looks… well, frankly, she looks like she's not expecting company. "You scared me."
"Sorry," he chuckles sheepishly. He shoves his hands into his pockets. "But you did tell me to come on in, so…"
She waves him off, shaking her head as she moves back into the kitchen, and he follows. "No, no, of course," she agrees. "You know you're always welcome here. You're family."
She's told him that a thousand times, but it still makes his heart warm, just a little bit. He smiles gratefully. "Can I help you with anything?"
"I've got it, I think," she insists, and he's not entirely convinced, but he knows better than to get in her way. She moves toward the stove, stirs whatever it is that she's cooking that smells so amazing. "I'm sorry, but it might take me longer than I thought to get dinner ready."
Well, yeah, he can see that now. There's a tiny baby, probably not more than a few months old, sitting in a bassinet on her kitchen counter. He seems happy, chewing absently on his fingers as his little eyes look around the room curiously. He's confused, because he knows for a fact that Lulu didn't have another baby, and even after sifting through his mental rolodex of Port Charles, he can't figure out who's baby it would be. "Are you… babysitting?"
"Yeah, just helping out a friend," she says. She moves around her kitchen expertly, turning down stove burners and stirring pots, as she simultaneously assembles and heats up a bottle for the baby. "Charlotte's teacher at school needed some help during the day, and I volunteered to help out." She rocks the bassinet as the baby begins to stir. "This is baby Jaxon," she says with a smile.
"Hey, little guy," he says, chuckling as the baby quickly grabs the finger he offers. Jaxon just looks up at him, wide-eyed, and he can't help but smile. He turns back to Lulu, his elbows resting on the counter as Jaxon retains a death grip on his finger. "How did you get roped into babysitting when you have two kids of your own? And wasn't school out hours ago?"
"Down, Detective," Lulu warns laughingly. "There's no need to investigate her. All I know is that she moved here when Jaxon was born, and she doesn't have anyone around to help her out, obviously. I think she ran into some trouble back home and needed a fresh start." She smiles slowly, raising her eyebrows. "Actually, I feel silly for not having introduced you yet. She's single."
He narrows his eyes at her playfully as he finally pulls his finger away from Jaxon. He stands up straight, pointing a finger at her knowingly. "I know you're desperate to set me up, Lulu, but I think going on my first date in over a year with a girl who already has a baby might be pushing the envelope."
Before he can even blink, she's reached across the island to punch his arm, and he laughs in surprise. "Don't be an ass," she scolds, fighting a smile.
"Mom!" Charlotte calls from her place in the living room. "Swear jar!"
Lulu winces. "Sorry," she calls. "Chase made me do it."
He scowls at her. "I think I'll just go hang out with the kids, now," he chuckles, moving toward the living room as Lulu points her finger at him in warning. He greets Charlotte with a fist bump as she crosses toward the kitchen. "Hey, blondie."
"Hi Chase." Charlotte blushes, and Chase bites back a laugh. Lulu warned him a while back that she thought Charlotte might be developing a little crush on him. He throws her a little wink that makes her giggle.
"Um, Charlotte, why don't you go get Rocco and you two wash up for dinner." Lulu unbuckles Jaxon from his bassinet and cradles him in her arms, producing a bottle from the counter behind her. She shakes it as she follows Chase and Charlotte into the living room. "I'm going to feed Jaxon and then I'll finish up cooking, okay?"
"Okay, Mom." Charlotte gives Jaxon a sweet kiss on his tiny nose and heads upstairs, yelling Rocco's name as she goes. Clearly Jaxon is a fixture around here, and he thinks it's sweet that the kids seem to like having him around.
"Seriously, Chase," Lulu continues. She takes a seat on the sofa and tilts the bottle toward Jaxon's mouth just as he begins to fuss. Chase sighs and reluctantly takes a seat in the chair across from her. "She's new to town. You're not new anymore, I guess, but you're lonely." He furrows his brow, opens his mouth to protest, and she cuts him off with a stern look. "Don't deny it. You're a hermit. She's young, she's beautiful, and I think you should at least meet her."
He narrows his eyes suspiciously at her. He should've known she couldn't keep her meddling hands away from his love life for long. "Why do I feel like you inviting me here tonight was a set-up?"
And then, as if on cue, there's a knock at the door, and Lulu smiles slowly, almost diabolically. "Because it was." Before he can respond and convey his annoyance, she quickly arranges her face into a wide-eyed, innocent stare. "Chase, would you mind getting that for me? My hands are a bit full."
He wants to be frustrated, but she's kind of an evil genius, and he can't help but appreciate the effort. So he rolls his eyes on a chuckle and stands, quickly making his way to the door and pulling it open. He hardly registers who's standing on the other side before she pushes past him without so much as a glance in his direction.
"Oh my God, Lulu, I am so sorry," the woman gushes. She sets her purse down near the door, quickly makes her way toward the sofa. "I had to have an emergency parent-teacher conference after school, and then Principal Schultz would not stop talking, and -"
"Willow," Lulu laughs as Chase closes the door and slowly moves back toward his seat. "Take a deep breath. You don't need to apologize; you told me you'd be late, remember?"
"I know, I just feel terrible," Willow insists. She plops down unceremoniously next to Lulu, clearly at home here, and Chase infers that they're pretty good friends at this point. He watches as she takes Jaxon's little foot in her hand gently, almost absentmindedly, while he finishes his bottle. "I know you have plans for dinner tonight."
"We've talked about this," Lulu sighs in exasperation. "I'm more than happy to help out, and Chase is practically family. He knows all about the crazy that goes on around here."
He knows as soon as Willow becomes aware of his presence, watches as her shoulders tense and her gaze drifts to his, and he realizes he's been staring. He recognized her almost immediately as the woman he borderline harassed in the parking garage at GH last week. In one breath, he feels embarrassed, almost ashamed, and in the next, he can't believe his luck, that somehow he ran into her again. For a split second, he wants to avert his gaze, try to play it off, but she clearly caught him watching her, so he smiles instead.
She sits up straight, her body going still as her eyes pierce his own. "Oh, hello, Detective Harrison Chase," she says curtly. "Written any parking tickets lately?"
He clears his throat, his optimism shifting very quickly back to shame as she practically stares him down. If looks could kill, he'd be a very, very dead man. He marvels at how he's managed to piss off the first girl he's found even remotely interesting in months. (Maybe years.) "I'm, uh… I'm not here to arrest you, I promise," he insists, smiling hesitantly. He holds his hands up in surrender, hoping to disarm her clear state of annoyance at his presence. "Sorry about that, by the way." He moves toward her slowly, reaching out his hand, which she reluctantly shakes. "I'm just here to mooch dinner off my partner's wife," he jokes.
Willow is clearly not amused and turns to Lulu, who wipes the confusion off her face and widens her eyes at her friend. "Detective Chase is Dante's partner at the PCPD," she explains. "Dante tasked him with looking out for me and the kids while he's away, and in return, I force Chase to come over for dinner and entertain my children."
He wouldn't be a very good detective if he didn't notice the way Willow's shoulders slump, ever so slightly, and she reaches for her son, turning back to face Chase again. "Nice to see you again, Detective Chase," she says begrudgingly, forcing a smile.
"You as well, Willow," he agrees. He takes a seat in the chair across from the couch, rests his elbows on his knees as he attempts to study her subtly. Lulu was right about one thing: she's beautiful, and she's clearly got her shit together, with a full-time job and a four-month-old on her hands. (No wonder she was 'sleeping' in her car that night.) But by the looks of it, she's less than impressed with him so far, and he finds that he's kind of desperate to get on her good side. At the very least because she's friends with Lulu, and they're bound to run into each other on occasion.
"I'm sorry," Lulu says, furrowing her brow with an innocent smile at Chase. "How do you two know each other?"
Willow rolls her eyes, patting Jaxon's back as he rests comfortably against her shoulder. She crosses one leg over the other, leans back into the sofa. "Detective Chase caught me parked in a restricted area at GH last week," she begins. "He accused me of being drunk, and then put on a show like he was going to arrest me."
He furrows his brow. "Wait a second," he chuckles in surprise. "I was never going to arrest you."
She meets his eyes, her green ones narrowed in residual annoyance. "You could've fooled me."
Okay, maybe she's right. He was kind of a jackass that night. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. "I may have let the frustration of the day get the better of me at the end of a long shift. I told you, I'm sorry."
She scoffs at him. "You're not the only one to ever have a long, frustrating day, Detective."
"Okay…" Lulu's eyes dart between the two of them, clearly enjoying the exchange. Can she not tell that her attempt at a set-up is obviously a failure? While he'll admit that he's interested, Willow very clearly is not. "Well, I'm glad you two have already met." Chase narrows his eyes at her, and she avoids his gaze, focusing on Willow instead. "It wasn't long ago that Chase was the new kid in town. Maybe he can show you some of the places where the young, single crowd hang out in Port Charles."
Willow levels a glare at Lulu that, for some reason, makes Chase grin from ear to ear. "Uh, Lulu," he interjects, stifling a laugh. He runs his knuckles over his chin, amused. "What makes you think I know where any of those places are?"
"Well, maybe that's the point," Lulu shrugs innocently. "You two can find them together."
He's not entirely opposed to the idea. Willow does not agree. "Oh yes, I'd just love to spend a perfectly good evening being interrogated," she retorts, rolling her eyes.
Lulu rolls her eyes and speaks before Chase can open his mouth to defend himself. "I'm sure he'd put away his badge for a night, if you asked."
"Lulu," Chase warns. It was a valiant effort, he'll give her credit for that, but this is clearly not going well, and if he has any hope of salvaging Willow's opinion of him, it's probably better to quit while they're ahead. (Is he even 'ahead' at this point? He's not really sure anymore.) "Leave it alone. I'm sure Willow will have no trouble meeting people in this town without you meddling."
Willow rolls her eyes, but she can't fight her smile as she meets Chase's eyes. "Yeah, with a four-month-old in tow, I'm a real catch." She adjusts Jaxon where he rests against her shoulder, runs her hand down his back as he stirs.
"Okay, okay," Lulu concedes before Chase can respond. "I'll back off. At least you two have met. I don't know why I hadn't introduced you before. Maybe it's because Chase has been avoiding me for a while now."
Busted. He quickly moves his gaze from Willow to Lulu, clears his throat. "I've been busy at the station," he tries.
He wilts under her stern glare. "Never heard that one before."
"And on that note," Willow laughs. She stands with Jaxon securely in her arms. "I think it's time that Jaxon and I went home." She moves toward the door, and though she's trying to be polite, her body language gives her away. Clearly, their entire exchange has made her uncomfortable, and she wants to escape the situation as quickly as possible. He can't blame her; if he could escape, he would, too. "Thank you again, Lulu, for everything." She reluctantly meets his eyes, acknowledges him with a nod. "Detective Chase."
He nods in return, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. "Willow."
She ducks her head to break his gaze and makes her exit. He closes the door behind her, turns to face Lulu with a scowl. "You're lucky I already feel guilty for avoiding you," he scolds, and she smiles broadly. "You are a meddler, Lulu Falconeri."
"Yes, I am," she says proudly. "What are you going to do about it?"
He wants to make a point, wants to give her a piece of his mind for (probably) ruining any chance of anything happening with Willow, for making them both so uncomfortable. He could say his piece, walk out, go pick up some takeout.
But none of those options really appeal to him at this point.
"I'm going to fall at your feet and beg you to feed me spaghetti."
"That's what I thought."
… … …
She should've known that Lulu couldn't keep from meddling for very long. Despite Willow's objections, she's constantly talking up every available man she knows. From what she experienced tonight, she's sure Lulu provides Chase with the same courtesy. (Poor guy.) But even if she were interested in Chase, or any of Lulu's suggestions for that matter, she's not in a position to get involved with anyone in any capacity right now. She knows that her friend means well, but there's so much she doesn't know - so much that Willow hasn't yet told her.
It's not just that she's a mother. Although, she thinks as she lets herself into her apartment, Jaxon hollering uncomfortably in his car seat, it certainly doesn't help things. Her life is a crazy whirlwind of work, infant care, and an occasional glass of wine at home, by herself, before she goes to bed at night. She's not even sure where she would fit another person into her daily reality, honestly. Take tonight, for example - it's almost eight-thirty by the time she gets home, and she essentially moves straight into Jaxon's bedtime routine. After a quick, warm bath and one last bottle, he's down for the night, and she settles herself on her sofa with a glass of wine, some old rom-com playing on the TV in front of her.
It's not that she doesn't want to date, she muses. She would love to spend time with a nice, attractive man, to have an escape from the pressures of her job and raising her son. And in the long run, of course, she would love to have a partner, someone to help her raise Jaxon, someone to love and someone who would love her just the same. That's what everyone wants, she supposes. But she realizes the baggage that she comes with, and she understands that's not something most men are all that excited to take on. Baggage that stems from not just the fact that she has a child, but how that child was conceived, and the kind of life she left behind to keep him safe.
It's more than she can bear to handle, most days. She could never expect someone else to willingly shoulder the burden.
She knows she's lucky to have Lulu in her corner, to have someone who cares about her, who cares about Jaxon, and who wants her to be happy. But she also knows that Lulu suspects Willow's story is not a pleasant one, and she's sure it's not a coincidence that the man she was 'introduced' to tonight also happens to be a detective. Not only would he inevitably dig up the secrets of her past, but he would likely be more than happy to protect her from the big bad wolf. Well, news flash, Detective Harrison Chase: Willow Tait is a lot stronger than the scared little girl who left home a year ago, and she can take care of herself and her son just fine.
The knock on her door startles her, and she quickly steadies her hand before red wine sloshes all over her sofa. She rests a hand over her chest to calm her racing heart, sets the glass on the coffee table before her hands inevitably begin to shake. She wishes her mind didn't automatically go to the worst-case scenario, but considering the shadows she's running from, she can't help but prepare for the worst.
She forces herself to temper her anxiety and slowly moves toward the door. Surely it's just a neighbor, maybe someone who heard Jaxon crying and is concerned. Maybe someone letting her know that she left the headlights on in her car. Surely, no one's discovered anything she wouldn't want them to know, have they?
She tentatively peeks through the peep hole, and despite the flood of relief that fills her system, she can't help the annoyance that also simmers to the surface.
"Detective Chase," she says in greeting as she opens the door, crossing her arms. She's acutely aware, suddenly, that she's in her pajamas and, thus, not wearing a bra. Fantastic. She narrows her eyes at him. "Does the PCPD normally conduct investigations this late?"
Chase smiles disarmingly, and she tries not to let on just how quickly that smile calmed her nerves. "Don't worry, I'm not here to interrogate you," he insists, rocking back on his heels.
Her instinct is to step forward, to block his view of her apartment - it's unsettling, how much he already seems to know about her, including where she lives - but then he rubs his hands together, his teeth chattering, and she remembers that it's November in upstate New York. They'd both be more comfortable inside.
So she steps aside and opens the door a little wider, and he gratefully takes the invitation to step inside as she quickly closes the door behind him. Between his joking tone and the sincerity in his eyes, she finds that it's difficult to maintain an air of annoyance, but she attempts to do it anyway. She keeps her arms crossed defensively across her chest and makes no move to invite him any further inside.
"Seems like you've settled in nicely," Chase observes, and she notices that he's careful to stand in one spot. He's curious, that much is obvious, but he's also making a conscious effort not to insert himself into her space. He's clearly well practiced at obtaining information without drawing attention to himself, and it makes her uneasy. "No boxes anywhere, or anything."
"I've lived here almost four months," she sighs. "If you're not here on police business, then it's awfully late to be knocking on anyone's door."
He chuckles, and okay, she'd be blind not to notice the way his eyes sparkle in amusement. It would be cute, she supposes, if she were noticing that sort of thing. Which she's not. "You left this at Lulu's." He produces her purse from behind his back, holds it out for her to take. "She didn't want to load up all the kids to bring it over here, but she figured you'd need it." He clears his throat, a knowing smirk crooked on his lips. "You know, so you don't get pulled over on your way to her house in the morning without a license."
How clever. Willow fights a smile and rolls her eyes. "Ha, ha," she deadpans, and Chase's smirk only widens. She takes her purse from him, hangs it on its hook by the door. "So she conveniently sent you over here to deliver it to me."
Chase nods, his head tilted in mock confusion. "Conveniently."
"She thinks she's subtle."
"She's really not."
"She means well," Willow shrugs, and she lets the corner of her mouth quirk up in amusement.
Chase nods in agreement, and his eyes sparkle again, this time with sincerity. "She's a good person to have in your corner," he says seriously. "And she seems to really care about you, and Jaxon, for what it's worth."
His eyes all but bore into hers, and she hums, subtly averting her eyes to catch her breath before she meets them again. "Well, she seems to care about you, too," she murmurs.
"At least there's one thing we have in common," he smirks.
Okay, this time she can't help but smile. "At least."
She may have misjudged him, she thinks suddenly as he smiles genuinely, his eyes once again drifting around her apartment. Just as he caught her on a bad day, that night in the parking garage, maybe she also caught him on a bad day. Maybe they've already seen one another at their worst. Something tells her that right now, she's seeing him at his best, and she can't help but acknowledge that she likes what she sees.
"Listen," he begins, clearing his throat, and he seems hesitant, suddenly. "I, uh… I don't want to overstep, but Lulu mentioned that you may have run into some trouble back home, or… or wherever you came here from," he clarifies. "If you… need any help, or anything…"
"You're overstepping," she interrupts, and now she's right back to being annoyed. She's sure he means well, but she's not interested in being anyone's charity case. "Whatever I left behind… it's not police business, and it's certainly none of your business, in any capacity. We've been fine for the last four months, and I can take care of my son just fine without your help."
She levels her gaze at him, and she watches with a smidge of satisfaction as he stutters over his own response. "I'm, uh… I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable," he backtracks. "Of course it's none of my business. I didn't mean to…"
"But you did," she shrugs. "Thank you for bringing my purse back." She pulls open the front door. "Goodnight, Detective Chase."
She can tell that he wants to continue, but he seems to sense the air of finality in her tone, and after searching her eyes for a brief moment, he closes his mouth and nods in resignation. "Goodnight," he mutters.
She closes the door behind him, deadbolts herself inside, and rests her forehead against it in exhaustion. She takes slow, deep breaths to regain her composure. Once again, she's not entirely sure why she becomes so defensive around him. The fact that he's a detective means he's naturally curious, and his instinct is to pry. And though she would like to believe that his primary motive is to help her, she's been burned too many times by cops who claimed to mean well. But of course, her reaction probably only heighted in his intrigue. She should have kept her expression neutral, maybe even smiled, and assured him that nothing was wrong, that she just needed a fresh start with her son. Maybe he would have believed her.
(If he's half the detective she thinks he is, he wouldn't have believed it for a second.)
… … …