song
part 6: my dark life
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 was a certain sense of apprehension as Elizabeth Webber went up on the elevator to the Penthouse. She was afraid of a great many things-seeing Jason. Seeing Courtney. Or even worse, seeing Courtney and Jason. Ric had fallen asleep, and she had left him in his apartment.
She just couldn't let him go anywhere, not like that. He was so innocent in his sleep, so unafraid, so unvarnished, so unworried. He would be angry, but that was a chance she was willing to take. She couldn't stand to see him in pain, and because of that, she would go to see Sonny Corinthos alone. Once upon a time, she and Sonny had been friends. Whatever had happened to that?
Carly had happened, just like Courtney had happened.
The elevator doors whirred open, and she stepped out into the hallway. The bodyguard downstairs had glanced at her and nodded and let her up. She looked down the hall to Jason's door and then she looked back to Sonny's door. Something, probably habit, made her want to go down to Jason's side of the hall and take refuge in his arms, in his familiarity.
What could Sonny do, really?
The answer was simple: nothing. What could anyone do? Faison was a ghost, a shadow, a madman, and anyone could be his target. Would he go after Lucky, or had that been done already? Was he finished with him?
So many names coursed through her head, and she knew that Sonny would just look at her like she was a child, if he was even there at all. She began to panic, wondering why she had come at all.
Then she remembered. For Ric. For everyone in Port Charles that Cesar Faison had hurt, for everyone he could hurt.
She began towards the door, Sonny's door, but the bodyguard outside shook his head and said, "Mr. Corinthos isn't here, only Mrs. Corinthos."
"Is Jason Morgan here?" she asked, not even thinking about it. Habit, she told herself. She wasn't about to talk to Carly, even if she could help.
"Yes, he is," the bodyguard stonily replied.
She started toward Jason's door, and then she stopped, thinking of something, something very important. Something that would keep her stomach contents where they belonged-in her stomach. "Is Sonny's sister here?" she asked, turning back to the bodyguard.
"Why would she be here when Mr. Corinthos isn't here?" he replied.
That information relieved her. It was a good question, though. If only you knew, she wanted to chuckle at the poor, clueless man. The situation didn't warrant chuckling, though. She was surprised that Jason would be there without Sonny, though. They were in the middle of a trial; shouldn't he have been preparing? Maybe he was beyond hope.
She knew now, though, that Jason didn't kill Alcazar. She had always known that, though. That's what happened when people trusted other people too easily. It had to have been Faison, didn't it? Ric certainly didn't kill the man.
Somewhere inside of her, there was a tiny little voice that said, 'How well do you know this guy, anyway? He certainly could have killed Alcazar.'
Aw, shuddup, she told the voice. She had enough problems without suddenly becoming schizophrenic. She walked to Jason's door, and her hand hesitated before falling heavily against the wood of the door.
It didn't take him long to answer. His eyes registered surprise, only at first, and then they switched into caring-mode. She wondered vaguely if he used that facial expression with Courtney, too. Courtney probably needed to be saved a lot more.
"Elizabeth, what is it?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"
"I know how we can prove that you didn't kill Alcazar," she told him, looking at him, his pretty blue eyes, and she could kind of remember how she felt about him, why she felt that way.
"I don't want you getting involved in this," he told her with a sigh.
"I'm already in way too deep, and it has nothing to do with you."
"Lansing?" It was only the one word, but in that word, Elizabeth could hear hatred, something she didn't hear from Jason's lips very often. He was so controlled, so calm, so collected. He rarely let his emotions show; or maybe it was that he let all of his emotions show, and he just had none to share.
"Jason, do you ever think about what might have happened if we had fought for each other?" she asked him.
"Jason, do you ever think about what might have happened if I had ridden away with you that day?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you didn't."
"No," he answered honestly.
"Because we didn't, right?" He didn't answer her, just blinked, and she said, "Maybe someday, Jason. But you're not who you used to be. Something - someone - changed you. I don't understand how or why, and I'm not really going to think about it right now."
"He's dangerous."
"And you're not?" As she had expected, he had no answer for her.
"He's not who he says he is."
"I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about how you and Brenda can beat this."
"I'm listening." He had made no move to let her into his apartment, and she could see his muscles tense underneath his t-shirt, and she wondered if Courtney was here, hiding in his bed. It was a metaphor; he wasn't going to let her back into his apartment, and he wasn't going to let her into his heart.
"Someone else did it. Hear me out-Faison. He's in town. He killed Alcazar."
"Do you know this?"
"No, but-"
"Do you have any evidence?"
"Well, no-"
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This is not a game you're playing, Elizabeth. These are dangerous people. You could get hurt."
"I understand that."
"This is not Zander Smith."
"Jason, why can't you accept that I'm a big girl now?" He didn't answer, because there was nothing to say. Jason wasn't going to help. She had to get someone else. "People are going to die."
He sighed and looked past her, she wasn't sure to where. "I don't know how to help."
"Can I just count on you, if I need you?" she asked him.
"You don't have to ask."
"Thank you," she murmured. She started to go, turned to leave, but he stopped her.
"Elizabeth?" She didn't turn to look at him as he said, "If he hurts you, he's dead."
*
She found Ric seated in Kelly's, looking at some paperwork. He looked peaked, his skin pale, his tan faded, but he looked as though he had managed to maintain some sense of normalcy. She saw him through the window, knew that they had to pretend. She knew that better than anyone that Faison could be anywhere at any time. Who knew what he knew already?
She had to find Lucky, but she had no idea where to begin.
Now the mission was to resume normalcy.
She was good at pretending.
She opened the door of Kelly's and went in, feeling the warmth from the heater blast her in the face. She pulled her jacket around her, even though the sudden influx of heat was almost stifling. Ric looked up at her, and that familiar smile spread across his face.
So maybe they were both good at pretending.
"Elizabeth," he said. "Would you care to join me?" He gestured to the seat across from him, and she met his eyes; he was hiding something from her, and he had to.
There could have been eyes everywhere.
She sat down across from him, biting her lip to keep from bursting into tears. When had her life become this? A game? He watched her carefully over the rim of his coffee cup. They had to be careful. If Bobbie saw him here, she'd make him go right back to the hospital, and then she'd be left completely alone.
The tears were going to come, tears from exhaustion, from having someone she cared about in the hospital, from dealing with the past, from being afraid for the future. "Excuse me," she murmured, and she stood up.
"Elizabeth-" he started, and he caught a hold of her hand.
"I'm just going to the bathroom," she whispered, and she pulled her hand out of his warm grasp, her fingers lingering on his, and then she made her way to the bathroom, almost stumbling. The fluourescent light of the bathroom was harsh on her eyes, and she immediately turned the water on in the sink and let it run until it ran hot and then cold again.
She barely noticed when the door opened, just wasn't paying attention or caring. She didn't even notice someone else was in the bathroom with her until she was grabbed from behind. She tried to cry out, but his hand was immediately over her mouth, and she suddenly wished she had paid more attention when Jason was trying to teach her self-defense.
"Listen to me," the man hissed in her ear, and she abruptly realized there was a knife in his hand, the blade just rubbing against her bare abdomen. She moaned as he slipped a little and the blade dug into her skin. "Leave all of this alone. Stay away from Lansing. Just stay out of it."
In the mirror, she could see his figure, dark and indistinguishable. His face was masked and he was clad all in black; all she could see, the only thing she could make out, was the flash of the blade in the mirror. "Valentine's Day," he hissed in her ear. "We wouldn't want it to happen again, would we?"
The shoe came off and I can't get it back on. I think I broke it. I can't get my shoe back on.
She struggled against him, but it was of no use. He was bigger, he was stronger. She couldn't help it. She was the victim.
This was not Cesar Faison. His voice was not the accented lilt of that man. This was someone completely different, someone who knew her past.
No . . he whispered. He whispered something. I don't know what it was. I just don't, I don't get it though. I mean, if his hand wasn't over my face, why couldn't I scream? Why couldn't I say something?!
"Courtney Quartermaine," he whispered to her, and the tip of the blade traced its way up her hip and underneath the hem of her shirt, and she felt the sting as the blood welled up from the wound, unbidden. "She will be the first to go. And you will be helpless, you understand?"
The tears poured from her eyes and down onto the man's hand, and he chuckled into her hair. Then he nibbled at her ear, and she bucked against him, straining to get away. "Your fear only makes you more attractive to men who would . . . violate you."
Her eyes met his in the mirror for just a moment, and then he released her.
And just like that, he was gone.
A shadow, a ghost, her imagination. An echo of the past.
What had Faison done?
She collapsed to the floor, to the nasty, smelly floor of the bathroom, and she lay huddled under the sink for she didn't know how long, shaking and trembling. Her thoughts made no sense to her, just flashes of images in her head, and she felt the blood at her side, staining her jeans and her shirt.
Courtney.
Courtney was next to go.
The man had warned her.
Why Courtney?
Courtney.
The irony.
Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, she cried until she thought she would drown in her own tears. He had reduced her to the girl she had once been, a girl fumbling to put her shoes on in the park.
Faison, wherever he was, knew how to hurt people. He knew how to make them suffer. He had found her Achilles' heel. A man in a bathroom attacked a girl, told her things that no one should have known about. Had it been him, the man from so many years ago?
She didn't think so. She recognized the voice, but it was not his, somehow.
These were the only coherent ideas she could form.
Finally, after what seemed to be an age, the door opened, and she heard a tentative, "Elizabeth?"
"I was getting some sun," she managed to croak to him, to Ric, who had finally come to look for her. She was trying to joke, but this time, she was no good at pretending.
"Oh, my God," he murmured, and she focused on his shoes, nice, black dress shoes. She stared at them hard as though that would help her to stop the cascade of tears that battered her face and eyes. "What happened?" he asked, crouching in front of her. "Tell me, Elizabeth," he whispered, and he put his hand to her face.
When she didn't answer, because she simply couldn't, he slid an arm under her knees and laced the other under her back, and he lifted her into his arms, cradling her against him. He would protect her, she knew.
She felt so young, so very, very young.
Elizabeth Webber had a great many demons.
They were all coming back to haunt her.
"Talk to me," he whispered as he pushed out of the bathroom door and carried her upstairs to his room. He struggled with the door, but only for a minute, and then he pushed inside and gently laid her down on the bed.
He threatened me, she tried to tell him. He talked to me about my rape, she wanted to say. I don't know who he was, but I know him, I do, she longed to speak, but the word were not there.
"Courtney," was all she managed to say. "We have to help."
"Sleep," he told her as he crouched down in front of the bed. He brushed her hair back from her face with gentle hands, so careful, like she was a China doll, so breakable. He kissed her forehead with cold lips, and she realized his hands were shaking. "Just sleep," he murmured.
"Courtney," she said again, and then sleep claimed her.
To be continued . . .
"See how the villain attracts,
Envious glances from everyone.
She's waitressing by day.
It doesn't bring in much money now.
And the strong concealed arms,
Set off bells and alarms,
In the strangest of locations of
My dark life."
-- 'My Dark Life' by Elvis Costello
part 6: my dark life
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 was a certain sense of apprehension as Elizabeth Webber went up on the elevator to the Penthouse. She was afraid of a great many things-seeing Jason. Seeing Courtney. Or even worse, seeing Courtney and Jason. Ric had fallen asleep, and she had left him in his apartment.
She just couldn't let him go anywhere, not like that. He was so innocent in his sleep, so unafraid, so unvarnished, so unworried. He would be angry, but that was a chance she was willing to take. She couldn't stand to see him in pain, and because of that, she would go to see Sonny Corinthos alone. Once upon a time, she and Sonny had been friends. Whatever had happened to that?
Carly had happened, just like Courtney had happened.
The elevator doors whirred open, and she stepped out into the hallway. The bodyguard downstairs had glanced at her and nodded and let her up. She looked down the hall to Jason's door and then she looked back to Sonny's door. Something, probably habit, made her want to go down to Jason's side of the hall and take refuge in his arms, in his familiarity.
What could Sonny do, really?
The answer was simple: nothing. What could anyone do? Faison was a ghost, a shadow, a madman, and anyone could be his target. Would he go after Lucky, or had that been done already? Was he finished with him?
So many names coursed through her head, and she knew that Sonny would just look at her like she was a child, if he was even there at all. She began to panic, wondering why she had come at all.
Then she remembered. For Ric. For everyone in Port Charles that Cesar Faison had hurt, for everyone he could hurt.
She began towards the door, Sonny's door, but the bodyguard outside shook his head and said, "Mr. Corinthos isn't here, only Mrs. Corinthos."
"Is Jason Morgan here?" she asked, not even thinking about it. Habit, she told herself. She wasn't about to talk to Carly, even if she could help.
"Yes, he is," the bodyguard stonily replied.
She started toward Jason's door, and then she stopped, thinking of something, something very important. Something that would keep her stomach contents where they belonged-in her stomach. "Is Sonny's sister here?" she asked, turning back to the bodyguard.
"Why would she be here when Mr. Corinthos isn't here?" he replied.
That information relieved her. It was a good question, though. If only you knew, she wanted to chuckle at the poor, clueless man. The situation didn't warrant chuckling, though. She was surprised that Jason would be there without Sonny, though. They were in the middle of a trial; shouldn't he have been preparing? Maybe he was beyond hope.
She knew now, though, that Jason didn't kill Alcazar. She had always known that, though. That's what happened when people trusted other people too easily. It had to have been Faison, didn't it? Ric certainly didn't kill the man.
Somewhere inside of her, there was a tiny little voice that said, 'How well do you know this guy, anyway? He certainly could have killed Alcazar.'
Aw, shuddup, she told the voice. She had enough problems without suddenly becoming schizophrenic. She walked to Jason's door, and her hand hesitated before falling heavily against the wood of the door.
It didn't take him long to answer. His eyes registered surprise, only at first, and then they switched into caring-mode. She wondered vaguely if he used that facial expression with Courtney, too. Courtney probably needed to be saved a lot more.
"Elizabeth, what is it?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"
"I know how we can prove that you didn't kill Alcazar," she told him, looking at him, his pretty blue eyes, and she could kind of remember how she felt about him, why she felt that way.
"I don't want you getting involved in this," he told her with a sigh.
"I'm already in way too deep, and it has nothing to do with you."
"Lansing?" It was only the one word, but in that word, Elizabeth could hear hatred, something she didn't hear from Jason's lips very often. He was so controlled, so calm, so collected. He rarely let his emotions show; or maybe it was that he let all of his emotions show, and he just had none to share.
"Jason, do you ever think about what might have happened if we had fought for each other?" she asked him.
"Jason, do you ever think about what might have happened if I had ridden away with you that day?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you didn't."
"No," he answered honestly.
"Because we didn't, right?" He didn't answer her, just blinked, and she said, "Maybe someday, Jason. But you're not who you used to be. Something - someone - changed you. I don't understand how or why, and I'm not really going to think about it right now."
"He's dangerous."
"And you're not?" As she had expected, he had no answer for her.
"He's not who he says he is."
"I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about how you and Brenda can beat this."
"I'm listening." He had made no move to let her into his apartment, and she could see his muscles tense underneath his t-shirt, and she wondered if Courtney was here, hiding in his bed. It was a metaphor; he wasn't going to let her back into his apartment, and he wasn't going to let her into his heart.
"Someone else did it. Hear me out-Faison. He's in town. He killed Alcazar."
"Do you know this?"
"No, but-"
"Do you have any evidence?"
"Well, no-"
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This is not a game you're playing, Elizabeth. These are dangerous people. You could get hurt."
"I understand that."
"This is not Zander Smith."
"Jason, why can't you accept that I'm a big girl now?" He didn't answer, because there was nothing to say. Jason wasn't going to help. She had to get someone else. "People are going to die."
He sighed and looked past her, she wasn't sure to where. "I don't know how to help."
"Can I just count on you, if I need you?" she asked him.
"You don't have to ask."
"Thank you," she murmured. She started to go, turned to leave, but he stopped her.
"Elizabeth?" She didn't turn to look at him as he said, "If he hurts you, he's dead."
*
She found Ric seated in Kelly's, looking at some paperwork. He looked peaked, his skin pale, his tan faded, but he looked as though he had managed to maintain some sense of normalcy. She saw him through the window, knew that they had to pretend. She knew that better than anyone that Faison could be anywhere at any time. Who knew what he knew already?
She had to find Lucky, but she had no idea where to begin.
Now the mission was to resume normalcy.
She was good at pretending.
She opened the door of Kelly's and went in, feeling the warmth from the heater blast her in the face. She pulled her jacket around her, even though the sudden influx of heat was almost stifling. Ric looked up at her, and that familiar smile spread across his face.
So maybe they were both good at pretending.
"Elizabeth," he said. "Would you care to join me?" He gestured to the seat across from him, and she met his eyes; he was hiding something from her, and he had to.
There could have been eyes everywhere.
She sat down across from him, biting her lip to keep from bursting into tears. When had her life become this? A game? He watched her carefully over the rim of his coffee cup. They had to be careful. If Bobbie saw him here, she'd make him go right back to the hospital, and then she'd be left completely alone.
The tears were going to come, tears from exhaustion, from having someone she cared about in the hospital, from dealing with the past, from being afraid for the future. "Excuse me," she murmured, and she stood up.
"Elizabeth-" he started, and he caught a hold of her hand.
"I'm just going to the bathroom," she whispered, and she pulled her hand out of his warm grasp, her fingers lingering on his, and then she made her way to the bathroom, almost stumbling. The fluourescent light of the bathroom was harsh on her eyes, and she immediately turned the water on in the sink and let it run until it ran hot and then cold again.
She barely noticed when the door opened, just wasn't paying attention or caring. She didn't even notice someone else was in the bathroom with her until she was grabbed from behind. She tried to cry out, but his hand was immediately over her mouth, and she suddenly wished she had paid more attention when Jason was trying to teach her self-defense.
"Listen to me," the man hissed in her ear, and she abruptly realized there was a knife in his hand, the blade just rubbing against her bare abdomen. She moaned as he slipped a little and the blade dug into her skin. "Leave all of this alone. Stay away from Lansing. Just stay out of it."
In the mirror, she could see his figure, dark and indistinguishable. His face was masked and he was clad all in black; all she could see, the only thing she could make out, was the flash of the blade in the mirror. "Valentine's Day," he hissed in her ear. "We wouldn't want it to happen again, would we?"
The shoe came off and I can't get it back on. I think I broke it. I can't get my shoe back on.
She struggled against him, but it was of no use. He was bigger, he was stronger. She couldn't help it. She was the victim.
This was not Cesar Faison. His voice was not the accented lilt of that man. This was someone completely different, someone who knew her past.
No . . he whispered. He whispered something. I don't know what it was. I just don't, I don't get it though. I mean, if his hand wasn't over my face, why couldn't I scream? Why couldn't I say something?!
"Courtney Quartermaine," he whispered to her, and the tip of the blade traced its way up her hip and underneath the hem of her shirt, and she felt the sting as the blood welled up from the wound, unbidden. "She will be the first to go. And you will be helpless, you understand?"
The tears poured from her eyes and down onto the man's hand, and he chuckled into her hair. Then he nibbled at her ear, and she bucked against him, straining to get away. "Your fear only makes you more attractive to men who would . . . violate you."
Her eyes met his in the mirror for just a moment, and then he released her.
And just like that, he was gone.
A shadow, a ghost, her imagination. An echo of the past.
What had Faison done?
She collapsed to the floor, to the nasty, smelly floor of the bathroom, and she lay huddled under the sink for she didn't know how long, shaking and trembling. Her thoughts made no sense to her, just flashes of images in her head, and she felt the blood at her side, staining her jeans and her shirt.
Courtney.
Courtney was next to go.
The man had warned her.
Why Courtney?
Courtney.
The irony.
Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, she cried until she thought she would drown in her own tears. He had reduced her to the girl she had once been, a girl fumbling to put her shoes on in the park.
Faison, wherever he was, knew how to hurt people. He knew how to make them suffer. He had found her Achilles' heel. A man in a bathroom attacked a girl, told her things that no one should have known about. Had it been him, the man from so many years ago?
She didn't think so. She recognized the voice, but it was not his, somehow.
These were the only coherent ideas she could form.
Finally, after what seemed to be an age, the door opened, and she heard a tentative, "Elizabeth?"
"I was getting some sun," she managed to croak to him, to Ric, who had finally come to look for her. She was trying to joke, but this time, she was no good at pretending.
"Oh, my God," he murmured, and she focused on his shoes, nice, black dress shoes. She stared at them hard as though that would help her to stop the cascade of tears that battered her face and eyes. "What happened?" he asked, crouching in front of her. "Tell me, Elizabeth," he whispered, and he put his hand to her face.
When she didn't answer, because she simply couldn't, he slid an arm under her knees and laced the other under her back, and he lifted her into his arms, cradling her against him. He would protect her, she knew.
She felt so young, so very, very young.
Elizabeth Webber had a great many demons.
They were all coming back to haunt her.
"Talk to me," he whispered as he pushed out of the bathroom door and carried her upstairs to his room. He struggled with the door, but only for a minute, and then he pushed inside and gently laid her down on the bed.
He threatened me, she tried to tell him. He talked to me about my rape, she wanted to say. I don't know who he was, but I know him, I do, she longed to speak, but the word were not there.
"Courtney," was all she managed to say. "We have to help."
"Sleep," he told her as he crouched down in front of the bed. He brushed her hair back from her face with gentle hands, so careful, like she was a China doll, so breakable. He kissed her forehead with cold lips, and she realized his hands were shaking. "Just sleep," he murmured.
"Courtney," she said again, and then sleep claimed her.
To be continued . . .
"See how the villain attracts,
Envious glances from everyone.
She's waitressing by day.
It doesn't bring in much money now.
And the strong concealed arms,
Set off bells and alarms,
In the strangest of locations of
My dark life."
-- 'My Dark Life' by Elvis Costello