song
part 5: kickstart
Spoilers: I don't even know at this point.
Author's note: Kind of winging it, kind of have a plan. There's an old face, but it's not the last old face. Look for more surprises, and lots more LiRic. Warning: I dislike Courtney strongly. Be prepared.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, yadayadayada.
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Please! Even suggestions where you'd like the storyline to go!
There had been no words for her to express her horror, her terror, at hearing the man's name. She had had no words, and so she had said none. She only helped Ric out of the hospital, smuggled him out, helped him as he groaned, tried not to hurt him even as he cried out. He wouldn't let her take him to her studio, because of the imminent danger, so she took him back to Kelly's, despite her reservations against it.
She helped him up the stairs, and he tried to be the bigger man about it, tried to pretend like it didn't hurt, but she knew that the stitches would be tender, and he was supposed to stay in the hospital. She helped him physically, because that was all he would let her do. She helped him onto his bed, and she watched, ironically helpless as he pulled his body into the fetal position, cradling his wounded side.
He drifted off to sleep, overcome by pain and exhaustion, and she sat on the bed next to him, running her fingers through his hair. She noticed the few gray hairs, probably caused by stress and the emotional anguish over the years. In his sleep, he was peaceful, even though pain must have wracked his body.
She leaned down and kissed his temple gently, and then she pressed her forehead against the side of his head, feeling the gentle throb of his pulse in his temple. She lay like that for a while, cradling him in her embrace.
Elizabeth Webber had let herself open up to someone again, for the first time since Lucky. His pain was causing her pain now, and she wanted to heal him, emotionally and physically.
Faison.
Cesar Faison.
How could she handle this? That was what she always did-handled it. But how could she handle the man who had destroyed her first love?
Hi. Laura asked if I wanted to say anything. And I do, if I can just figure out how. I feel so lucky go be the girl he loved. I guess what I wanted to tell you was Lucky saved my life. If you know me, you know I'm not exaggerating or trying to sound poetic. He literally picked me up off the ground from the snow and the ice, and took care of what hurt and watched over me at night. He took all my anger and my bitterness and turned it into something shining that I will always, always have. And this is why it's not right that he's gone. Someone who--who saves a life should have an extra life. More time, not less.
She had asked so little out of life, and that was exactly what she had gotten. Fear had crippled her for too long, and it was time she started asking for more. Tom Baker. Helena Cassadine. And Cesar Faison. He had taken everything good and human in Lucky Spencer and thrown it away, warped it.
And now he was here. In Port Charles. Trying to destroy people.
She had trusted Ric, and now she felt validated. Nothing in her felt like gloating, though. Had Faison killed Alcazar then? In that one move, he had thrown the lives of many citizens of Port Charles into upheaval. Jasper Jax, Brenda Barrett, Jason, Sonny, Carly, all of them.
He had stabbed Ric.
She owed Cesar Faison a thing or two. Maybe Jason's bat would come in handy.
She rested against him, exhausted, mentally and physically, and there she slept, the fitful dreams coming, dreams of fire and pain and tears, but it was sleep, blessed, cool sleep.
*
Elizabeth awoke after Ric did; she found herself curled into her own body like he had been, covered by his heavy black wool winter coat. It smelled like him, an aroma she remembered from the previous night. Had it only been last night? It seemed so long ago.
She pulled the coat around her, relishing its warmth, but a wave of panic hit her, cold and harsh, as she realized that he was no longer by her, his presence no longer assuring. She sat up with a jerk, looking around the room for any sign of him. Had he gone, left her here alone?
"Ric?" she called, the panic choking her voice. She was terrified of the thought of him, wounded and alone and in pain out there, with Faison roaming the streets. She slid his coat onto her arms, the wool scratching her bare skin. He had taken her own jacket off of her, placed it over a chair just near the bed. "Ric?" she called again.
The bathroom door opened, and Ric stood on the other side, rebuttoning his shirt. She caught a glance of the slightly reddened bandage around his ribs, and her heart thudded. "Elizabeth?" he asked, his eyes wide. "Is everything okay?"
She couldn't control herself; she stood and went to him and wrapped her arms gingerly around him and pressed her head into his chest. "Hey," he said softly, surprised, but his arms went around her like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.
Maybe it was, she thought.
"What's the matter?" he asked her, putting his hand under her chin and tipping her face to look at him. He looked haggard, and she understood that. Had he pulled some of his stitches? She should have made him stay at the hospital. What had she done? She was making him hurt more.
"You're hurt," she said quietly.
"That's an understatement," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"You have to go back to the hospital. I shouldn't have let you leave."
"You couldn't have stopped me. I wasn't going to stay there when you were here."
Those words made her chest and cheeks burn, and she looked down at her feet. They were going so fast, but in reality, they weren't going anywhere at all.
"I'm going to go see Sonny," she said to him, pulling away from him. "Maybe he'll know what to do."
"Do you really believe that?"
"There has to be an answer. A solution."
"This man is not to be messed-"
"I know him, Ric," she told him, moving away from him and pulling his coat around her, feeling as though if she couldn't have his arms around her, she was going to go for next best thing. "He's been here before."
"What?"
"There was a fire." She moved to the window and gazed outside, looking at the place she had known as home for so long. Port Charles. It felt like a stranger now. "My boyfriend at the time-Lucky, was in a fire. Caused by Cesar Faison. He made everyone think that Lucky was dead, but he wasn't. He had . . . videos. Cameras all over the place. He was watching me. Threatened me."
Ric didn't say anything, remained silent in the doorway of the bathroom. She turned to look at him, eyes meeting eyes, his brown ones meeting her own. "He caused a lot of pain here. I can't let him do it again."
"We won't let him. I promise you that, Elizabeth."
"I trust you," she whispered.
"I won't let you get hurt. As long as I am standing, you won't get hurt."
She just looked at him, and she blinked. How many times in her life had she been promised that? How many men had told her that, and how many times had she been hurt?
How many times had she believed that?
Just once. This time.
But she panicked as she saw the slight blood stain on his shirt, and she looked down at it and then back at him. "You have to go back to the hospital."
"I'm not going, and you can't make me."
"You're hurt."
"I'm also the only one who knows what's going on."
"That's not true."
"Oh, it's not?"
"I know what's going on," she told him, standing strong in her conviction. "I'm not backing down, so don't try it."
He smiled at her, that beautiful smile, and he said, "You look good wearing my clothing."
She forgot about the blood for a moment. "It's just your coat."
"Well, you're welcome to any more of it that you want."
"You better watch it. I might take you up on that offer, and then you'll suddenly find your favorite shirts missing."
They were doing an awfully good job at pretending that nothing was wrong, that life was the same way it was a week ago. She bit her lip and sat down on the bed again. Slowly and carefully, he joined her. She felt the bed sink underneath his weight, and he laid back and crossed his arm over his eyes.
"I never meant for this to happen," he said to her. "I'm so sorry you got involved."
"I'm not," she said.
"Elizabeth?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"You really are my guardian angel."
The air fell silent between them again, not an awkward silence, just a silence. It felt right to be here with him; they shared a secret now, a secret that was incredibly important. They had to help people.
"Ric?" she asked.
"Yes?" he mimicked, echoing her from only moments before.
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Anything," he swore.
"Can you . . . " Just say it, Elizabeth, she told herself. You have to start going for these things you want. "Can you kiss me? Because last time, I kissed you, and then you left, and I'm not feeling real sure about this whole thing."
The bed shook with the movement of his ribs as he chuckled. He pulled himself to a sitting position, groaning, and he put his hands on her knees. "If you had held on just a couple of seconds longer, it would have been me doing the kissing," he murmured to her. They were so close that they were breathing each other's air.
"Doesn't count. I still was the one who kissed you."
"That's not fair," he teased, and he leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth.
"That doesn't count either," she joked. "That was not a kiss."
"Mmmhmm," he murmured, and he kissed her eyelid.
"Have you never kissed anyone before?"
"Does foreplay mean nothing to you?" he whispered into her ear, and she could feel the heat of his breath against her neck.
"I just asked you to kiss me," she whispered back, a smile on her face.
There was nothing more right than being with him, than being with him here and now, or wherever he was.
"Okay, okay," he mock-protested. He turned his head, and his lips were brushing hers as he said, "Did anyone ever tell you that you're pushy?"
She didn't even get to answer, because his lips were on hers, exploring. She changed her mind about her first kiss with him being the best kiss ever. This one eclipsed it. He pulled away from her, grinning.
"Yes," she answered, a little breathless.
"Yes?" he asked.
"People tell me I'm pushy."
"We'll go," he said, burying his head in her shoulder.
"We'll go where?" she asked him.
"To Sonny. We'll get his help."
To be continued . . .
"We need a kick start
We need a quick solution
We need a next step
If we're really going
If we're really going"
-- 'Kick Start' by Lisa Loeb
part 5: kickstart
Spoilers: I don't even know at this point.
Author's note: Kind of winging it, kind of have a plan. There's an old face, but it's not the last old face. Look for more surprises, and lots more LiRic. Warning: I dislike Courtney strongly. Be prepared.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, yadayadayada.
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Please! Even suggestions where you'd like the storyline to go!
There had been no words for her to express her horror, her terror, at hearing the man's name. She had had no words, and so she had said none. She only helped Ric out of the hospital, smuggled him out, helped him as he groaned, tried not to hurt him even as he cried out. He wouldn't let her take him to her studio, because of the imminent danger, so she took him back to Kelly's, despite her reservations against it.
She helped him up the stairs, and he tried to be the bigger man about it, tried to pretend like it didn't hurt, but she knew that the stitches would be tender, and he was supposed to stay in the hospital. She helped him physically, because that was all he would let her do. She helped him onto his bed, and she watched, ironically helpless as he pulled his body into the fetal position, cradling his wounded side.
He drifted off to sleep, overcome by pain and exhaustion, and she sat on the bed next to him, running her fingers through his hair. She noticed the few gray hairs, probably caused by stress and the emotional anguish over the years. In his sleep, he was peaceful, even though pain must have wracked his body.
She leaned down and kissed his temple gently, and then she pressed her forehead against the side of his head, feeling the gentle throb of his pulse in his temple. She lay like that for a while, cradling him in her embrace.
Elizabeth Webber had let herself open up to someone again, for the first time since Lucky. His pain was causing her pain now, and she wanted to heal him, emotionally and physically.
Faison.
Cesar Faison.
How could she handle this? That was what she always did-handled it. But how could she handle the man who had destroyed her first love?
Hi. Laura asked if I wanted to say anything. And I do, if I can just figure out how. I feel so lucky go be the girl he loved. I guess what I wanted to tell you was Lucky saved my life. If you know me, you know I'm not exaggerating or trying to sound poetic. He literally picked me up off the ground from the snow and the ice, and took care of what hurt and watched over me at night. He took all my anger and my bitterness and turned it into something shining that I will always, always have. And this is why it's not right that he's gone. Someone who--who saves a life should have an extra life. More time, not less.
She had asked so little out of life, and that was exactly what she had gotten. Fear had crippled her for too long, and it was time she started asking for more. Tom Baker. Helena Cassadine. And Cesar Faison. He had taken everything good and human in Lucky Spencer and thrown it away, warped it.
And now he was here. In Port Charles. Trying to destroy people.
She had trusted Ric, and now she felt validated. Nothing in her felt like gloating, though. Had Faison killed Alcazar then? In that one move, he had thrown the lives of many citizens of Port Charles into upheaval. Jasper Jax, Brenda Barrett, Jason, Sonny, Carly, all of them.
He had stabbed Ric.
She owed Cesar Faison a thing or two. Maybe Jason's bat would come in handy.
She rested against him, exhausted, mentally and physically, and there she slept, the fitful dreams coming, dreams of fire and pain and tears, but it was sleep, blessed, cool sleep.
*
Elizabeth awoke after Ric did; she found herself curled into her own body like he had been, covered by his heavy black wool winter coat. It smelled like him, an aroma she remembered from the previous night. Had it only been last night? It seemed so long ago.
She pulled the coat around her, relishing its warmth, but a wave of panic hit her, cold and harsh, as she realized that he was no longer by her, his presence no longer assuring. She sat up with a jerk, looking around the room for any sign of him. Had he gone, left her here alone?
"Ric?" she called, the panic choking her voice. She was terrified of the thought of him, wounded and alone and in pain out there, with Faison roaming the streets. She slid his coat onto her arms, the wool scratching her bare skin. He had taken her own jacket off of her, placed it over a chair just near the bed. "Ric?" she called again.
The bathroom door opened, and Ric stood on the other side, rebuttoning his shirt. She caught a glance of the slightly reddened bandage around his ribs, and her heart thudded. "Elizabeth?" he asked, his eyes wide. "Is everything okay?"
She couldn't control herself; she stood and went to him and wrapped her arms gingerly around him and pressed her head into his chest. "Hey," he said softly, surprised, but his arms went around her like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.
Maybe it was, she thought.
"What's the matter?" he asked her, putting his hand under her chin and tipping her face to look at him. He looked haggard, and she understood that. Had he pulled some of his stitches? She should have made him stay at the hospital. What had she done? She was making him hurt more.
"You're hurt," she said quietly.
"That's an understatement," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"You have to go back to the hospital. I shouldn't have let you leave."
"You couldn't have stopped me. I wasn't going to stay there when you were here."
Those words made her chest and cheeks burn, and she looked down at her feet. They were going so fast, but in reality, they weren't going anywhere at all.
"I'm going to go see Sonny," she said to him, pulling away from him. "Maybe he'll know what to do."
"Do you really believe that?"
"There has to be an answer. A solution."
"This man is not to be messed-"
"I know him, Ric," she told him, moving away from him and pulling his coat around her, feeling as though if she couldn't have his arms around her, she was going to go for next best thing. "He's been here before."
"What?"
"There was a fire." She moved to the window and gazed outside, looking at the place she had known as home for so long. Port Charles. It felt like a stranger now. "My boyfriend at the time-Lucky, was in a fire. Caused by Cesar Faison. He made everyone think that Lucky was dead, but he wasn't. He had . . . videos. Cameras all over the place. He was watching me. Threatened me."
Ric didn't say anything, remained silent in the doorway of the bathroom. She turned to look at him, eyes meeting eyes, his brown ones meeting her own. "He caused a lot of pain here. I can't let him do it again."
"We won't let him. I promise you that, Elizabeth."
"I trust you," she whispered.
"I won't let you get hurt. As long as I am standing, you won't get hurt."
She just looked at him, and she blinked. How many times in her life had she been promised that? How many men had told her that, and how many times had she been hurt?
How many times had she believed that?
Just once. This time.
But she panicked as she saw the slight blood stain on his shirt, and she looked down at it and then back at him. "You have to go back to the hospital."
"I'm not going, and you can't make me."
"You're hurt."
"I'm also the only one who knows what's going on."
"That's not true."
"Oh, it's not?"
"I know what's going on," she told him, standing strong in her conviction. "I'm not backing down, so don't try it."
He smiled at her, that beautiful smile, and he said, "You look good wearing my clothing."
She forgot about the blood for a moment. "It's just your coat."
"Well, you're welcome to any more of it that you want."
"You better watch it. I might take you up on that offer, and then you'll suddenly find your favorite shirts missing."
They were doing an awfully good job at pretending that nothing was wrong, that life was the same way it was a week ago. She bit her lip and sat down on the bed again. Slowly and carefully, he joined her. She felt the bed sink underneath his weight, and he laid back and crossed his arm over his eyes.
"I never meant for this to happen," he said to her. "I'm so sorry you got involved."
"I'm not," she said.
"Elizabeth?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"You really are my guardian angel."
The air fell silent between them again, not an awkward silence, just a silence. It felt right to be here with him; they shared a secret now, a secret that was incredibly important. They had to help people.
"Ric?" she asked.
"Yes?" he mimicked, echoing her from only moments before.
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Anything," he swore.
"Can you . . . " Just say it, Elizabeth, she told herself. You have to start going for these things you want. "Can you kiss me? Because last time, I kissed you, and then you left, and I'm not feeling real sure about this whole thing."
The bed shook with the movement of his ribs as he chuckled. He pulled himself to a sitting position, groaning, and he put his hands on her knees. "If you had held on just a couple of seconds longer, it would have been me doing the kissing," he murmured to her. They were so close that they were breathing each other's air.
"Doesn't count. I still was the one who kissed you."
"That's not fair," he teased, and he leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth.
"That doesn't count either," she joked. "That was not a kiss."
"Mmmhmm," he murmured, and he kissed her eyelid.
"Have you never kissed anyone before?"
"Does foreplay mean nothing to you?" he whispered into her ear, and she could feel the heat of his breath against her neck.
"I just asked you to kiss me," she whispered back, a smile on her face.
There was nothing more right than being with him, than being with him here and now, or wherever he was.
"Okay, okay," he mock-protested. He turned his head, and his lips were brushing hers as he said, "Did anyone ever tell you that you're pushy?"
She didn't even get to answer, because his lips were on hers, exploring. She changed her mind about her first kiss with him being the best kiss ever. This one eclipsed it. He pulled away from her, grinning.
"Yes," she answered, a little breathless.
"Yes?" he asked.
"People tell me I'm pushy."
"We'll go," he said, burying his head in her shoulder.
"We'll go where?" she asked him.
"To Sonny. We'll get his help."
To be continued . . .
"We need a kick start
We need a quick solution
We need a next step
If we're really going
If we're really going"
-- 'Kick Start' by Lisa Loeb