song
part 7: hanging by a moment
Spoilers: I don't even know at this point.
Author's note: Allrighty, so this part may concern some people, but I have to make you all absolutely aware that I love the character I have incriminated here, and trust me, I will redeem him/her. Also, this chapter may be the demise of Courtney Quartermaine. You know, I liked her at first, and then the whole stripper-Jason-blahblah thing happened, and I just couldn't do it.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, yadayadayada.
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Please! Even suggestions where you'd like the storyline to go!
*
She wept and she slept, and then she awoke with a renewed energy, a nenewed determination. No one was going to get the best of her, not even someone who seemed to know her darkest secrets. The world was always a little bit brighter in the morning, even if it faded soon thereafter.
Ric wasn't in the room, and she was almost thankful for that. He was her guardian angel, and out of nowhere, he had swooped in to save her from her jelly of self-pity last night. If only she could put her finger on who that man was . . . it was so close, but it was as though her brain was withholding the information from her, to save her, to protect her. This was her coping mechanism, but it wasn't helping her out. She needed a name if she was going to help Courtney.
As she took a shower, she let the water scald her, so hot she thought it would peel her skin. This was what it had been like after that Valentine's Day-trying to get the stench off of her body. She was a stronger person now than she was then.
And she could beat this.
She wasn't going to let Courtney get hurt, not in this way, not by Faison. Everything Faison had done all along had been to hurt the people of Port Charles. He liked games, and he liked dominoes. Push one, and the rest will fall over.
She got out of the shower and slid Ric's bathrobe over her shoulders, and then she went into the bedroom and sat down in a chair facing the window. She should have gotten the hell out of dodge when she had gotten the chance.
"I picked it up for you when I was in Italy."
"Oh, wow, Jason, this is beautiful."
"It reminded me of you. I mean, the way you paint."
"Oh, please, I wish. How come you never sent it?"
"Well, I just -- you know, I needed to be able to see you, make sure you still want a post card from me."
Jason. She had to go to Jason, tell him that Courtney was in danger. The thought of that made her want to cry. Things had been so different once; she had been ready to profess her undying love to him once upon a time. But maybe she had mistaken what she felt for him. He was the best friend she had ever had. That was important to her.
Jason would take Courtney away. He would be able to protect her.
"Good morning," she heard from behind her, and she couldn't help the smile that attacked her tired face. She pulled her knees to her chest and turned to look at Ric, who had two mugs in his hands. He stood in the open doorway, standing strong. Only a couple of days ago, they had been a waitress and a lawyer. Now they were . . . what?
Two people who knew too much and had to do something with that knowledge.
"Hi," she murmured to him, smiling.
He sat down on the bed and handed her a mug. "Coffee?"
"Coffee sounds like the best idea I've heard in a really long time." She took the mug from him and held the warm ceramic in her hands. "So, Mr. Lawyer," she said after she took a sip of the dark liquid. "What do you suggest we do?"
"Move to a little Italian villa and drink cappuccinos all day long and pretend all of this never happened."
"If only," she sighed. She realized he wasn't wearing his uniform of a suit and tie, but instead he was wearing what he wore in Kelly's that day-a white t-shirt underneath a gray sweatshirt, the zipper at the top. He looked at her with acceptance, with warm, unjudging eyes.
She wanted to tell him so much what happened in the restroom the night before; she wanted to tell him about the rape, about all of it, not because she was looking for pity or affection, but because she simply wanted to. She wanted him to know about that part of her life. He didn't need to deal with that, though; she didn't need to dump it all on him. He had other things to deal with than some girl's issues about having been raped several years before.
"You can tell me," he said softly, and she realized he was studying her.
"How do you know I have anything to say?" she said, laughing.
"You had the look on your face that people have when they're thinking 'Do I or don't I tell him'. I'm a lawyer, remember," he added with a grin.
"Yes, I've heard that," she replied. "And I've also heard you're a good lawyer, although I have yet to see any proof of that."
"Oooh," he said, mock-grimacing. "That one cut deep."
They both stopped and looked at each other, and she could feel that familiar heat in her cheeks. So she decided to tell him-first about the bathroom, and then about the rape. She told him, and she watched as his cheeks tightened, an anger in his eyes.
Then she told him about the rape, and he reached out to take her hand, just a tiny, gentle move that warmed her. This time she told it, though, she could tell it without tears. She was all cried out for one lifetime. She would save the tears for someone else.
After she was finished, she took a deep breath and looked away from him; his gaze was so intense, his eyes so caring. She had never felt about anyone the way she felt about him-with the possible exception of Lucky.
Lucky.
Lucky needed to know that Faison was in town.
Lucky. There was something odd about the thought of him.
Ric took the hand he was holding and lifted it to his lips and kissed the palm softly. Then he reached for her face with his other hand, and he touched her cheek and brushed her hair away from her face. "You're one of the strongest people I know," he said to her.
"No, I'm really not," she protested. He had just said to her everything she had been wanting to hear ever since Lucky died. People had said it, not in so many words, but she needed to hear it from someone like him, someone she cared about. "I get upset all the time, and I-"
"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."
That stopped her. She couldn't protest anymore. They just looked at each other, and his hand was still behind her head. Suddenly, he leaned forward and kissed her, lightly, just once. Then he pulled away, not much, still so close to her that she could smell him and feel his body warmth, and he said with a grin, "Did I mention you look amazing in my robe?"
"That sounded like a line," she replied, laughing. "You better watch your luck, mister-"
Then she stopped as something hit her like a Mack truck.
"You better be careful. You could stunt your growth."
"Is there a reason you care?"
"Uh uh."
"Well that's too bad. What's your name?"
"Lucky."
"We'll see."
That couldn't be the answer. It was too easy, too right in front of her. It answered too many questions, solved too many problems, made her feel so much better about so many things.
But then again, the feeling of betrayal she felt was like none other.
She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She knew now why she couldn't name the man in the restroom from the night before-it was because her brain simply refused to.
Lucky.
"What is it?" Ric asked her.
"I know who it was. I know who attacked me last night."
"Who?"
"Lucky," she told him softly. "It was Lucky."
"What?"
She explained to him the mind control and Helena, and what Faison had done to him, was still doing to him.
"Do you think he's capable of hurting people?"
"The Lucky I knew? No way. This Lucky?" She had to think about it, had to review the evidence before she could condemn someone she loved as much as she had loved Lucky. "Yes. Absolutely."
"You're not safe here," he told her, standing up. "You have to get out of Port Charles."
"I don't think so," she replied, rising to meet his height. "I know Lucky the best; I know the Lucky he once was. I'm the only one who can help him."
"I don't like this."
"I don't like it, either. I was in love with him, remember?" She thought of the knife in her side, of the way the blade had pranced along her hip. He hadn't cared that he was hurting her; she didn't matter to him anymore. But once upon a time, she had.
The real Lucky had died in that fire. He was never coming back. Some part of her had always held out for him, but she realized that he was dead, to the world, to her, and to himself.
"I have to go talk to Jason," she said quietly. "I have to tell him about Courtney. I just have to make sure that he's not going to hurt Lucky, just protect Courtney." There was a little spurt of laughter that shot out of her mouth, and she said, "I can't believe it's Courtney. Courtney. Out of everyone in Port Charles, Courtney. I'd rather save Carly."
"I wouldn't," Ric said with a grin. He looked at her and then he pulled her towards him, enveloping her in his arms. "After all of this is over, what do you say we get a cup of coffee? Maybe go see a movie?" She felt him kiss the top of her head, and she smiled into his chest.
"I think that's a plan. And I also think this is a good time for me to wear one of your shirts. Mine has blood all over it."
*
Sonny's bodyguards were reluctant to let Ric into the elevator to head up to the Penthouse, but Elizabeth prevailed. She wasn't going up there without Ric, and she told them so. She felt conspicuous, wearing her own jeans but Ric's yellow shirt, the one he had been wearing when she had gone to check on the music coming from his room. She liked the feeling of belonging, though, as though the shirt expressed the idea that he belonged to her and she to him.
It also expressed something else, something a lot less savvy and a lot more risqué. On some level, she hoped Jason wouldn't even notice. As they headed down the hallway, Ric took her hand in his own, and he squeezed it, providing his own brand of moral support. She suspected he needed some from her as well.
She knocked on Jason's door, and finally he opened it, looking tired and worn, but still very much like the person who had once been her best friend. He looked at her, and then he looked at Ric, and then he looked at their joined hands.
Elizabeth just didn't care. There was nothing in her that wanted to say, 'See what you missed out on?', because if Jason hadn't pushed her away so many times, if she hadn't been able to come to the conclusion that they just weren't meant to be, then she would never be standing where she was, next to Ric, her hand in his.
It was funny the way the world worked.
"Is everything okay?" Jason asked.
"Can we come in?" Elizabeth replied.
"You can," he said to her, not looking at Ric.
"Oh, come on, grow up," she said, and she pushed by him into the apartment, pulling Ric along with her. She wasn't about to watch a macho pissing contest; she was only there to help Courtney. She sat down on the leather couch, a couch she knew well, and she avoided looking at the pool table, because it was just a reminder of things long ago. She made Ric sit down next to her, and she waited for Jason to close the door.
"This is about Courtney," she said to him.
"Elizabeth, I thought we-"
"Jason, look at me. Do I look like I came here to have a fight?" His blue eyes focused on her, and he stared at her, hard, for just a moment, and then he shook his head. "I was attacked in the bathroom at Kelly's last night," she told him, and she quickly slid over the words, because she knew how he would react. "And the man who attacked me threatened Courtney."
Jason sat down and looked at her. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she told him, "but we need to-"
"Elizabeth," he warned.
"Jason, I've been better, but I've been worse. This isn't about me-"
"Who was it?" he asked her.
"It was . . . " she started, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Jason. She looked at Ric, and he squeezed her hand again. "It was Lucky," she said softly. "Lucky. But I don't think he'd be the one-"
She was cut off by the ringing of a cellphone. She looked at Ric, who looked at Jason. Jason pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered it. "What?" he said.
The time seemed to stretch forever.
Elizabeth knew what the phone call was about before he had even answered it.
They were too late. She should have stayed up the night before, should have gone to Jason immediately.
Jason's eyes were fixated on her, and he made some mumbling sounds, and then after an eternity, he hung up the phone. No one said anything for the longest time, and the finally, Jason spoke, confirming her fears. "That was Sonny. Courtney's in the morgue."
Too late. They were way too late.
Jason stood, and Elizabeth recognized the look on his face. He was angry. Sadness was not written there, just fury. "Elizabeth-" he started, and she braced herself. When Jason got angry, he got angry. She had just never been the object of his anger. "You should have come to me last night," he said. "You could have stopped this-"
"Hey," Ric said, suddenly just as angry as Jason was. "Do not blame this on her. This is not her fault."
"If she had come to me last night, I could have protected Courtney."
"And what if you couldn't? Would it still be her fault?"
Elizabeth watched wordlessly as the two men glared at each other, and then she stood up, if only to break the silence. "I'm sorry for your loss, Jason," she said quietly. "We'll find a way to take care of this." Then she took Ric's hand in hers and lead him out of the Penthouse.
To be continued . . .
"Forgetting all I'm lacking
Completely and complete
I'll take your invitation
You take all of me
I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you.
-- 'Hanging by a Moment' by Lifehouse
part 7: hanging by a moment
Spoilers: I don't even know at this point.
Author's note: Allrighty, so this part may concern some people, but I have to make you all absolutely aware that I love the character I have incriminated here, and trust me, I will redeem him/her. Also, this chapter may be the demise of Courtney Quartermaine. You know, I liked her at first, and then the whole stripper-Jason-blahblah thing happened, and I just couldn't do it.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, yadayadayada.
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Please! Even suggestions where you'd like the storyline to go!
*
She wept and she slept, and then she awoke with a renewed energy, a nenewed determination. No one was going to get the best of her, not even someone who seemed to know her darkest secrets. The world was always a little bit brighter in the morning, even if it faded soon thereafter.
Ric wasn't in the room, and she was almost thankful for that. He was her guardian angel, and out of nowhere, he had swooped in to save her from her jelly of self-pity last night. If only she could put her finger on who that man was . . . it was so close, but it was as though her brain was withholding the information from her, to save her, to protect her. This was her coping mechanism, but it wasn't helping her out. She needed a name if she was going to help Courtney.
As she took a shower, she let the water scald her, so hot she thought it would peel her skin. This was what it had been like after that Valentine's Day-trying to get the stench off of her body. She was a stronger person now than she was then.
And she could beat this.
She wasn't going to let Courtney get hurt, not in this way, not by Faison. Everything Faison had done all along had been to hurt the people of Port Charles. He liked games, and he liked dominoes. Push one, and the rest will fall over.
She got out of the shower and slid Ric's bathrobe over her shoulders, and then she went into the bedroom and sat down in a chair facing the window. She should have gotten the hell out of dodge when she had gotten the chance.
"I picked it up for you when I was in Italy."
"Oh, wow, Jason, this is beautiful."
"It reminded me of you. I mean, the way you paint."
"Oh, please, I wish. How come you never sent it?"
"Well, I just -- you know, I needed to be able to see you, make sure you still want a post card from me."
Jason. She had to go to Jason, tell him that Courtney was in danger. The thought of that made her want to cry. Things had been so different once; she had been ready to profess her undying love to him once upon a time. But maybe she had mistaken what she felt for him. He was the best friend she had ever had. That was important to her.
Jason would take Courtney away. He would be able to protect her.
"Good morning," she heard from behind her, and she couldn't help the smile that attacked her tired face. She pulled her knees to her chest and turned to look at Ric, who had two mugs in his hands. He stood in the open doorway, standing strong. Only a couple of days ago, they had been a waitress and a lawyer. Now they were . . . what?
Two people who knew too much and had to do something with that knowledge.
"Hi," she murmured to him, smiling.
He sat down on the bed and handed her a mug. "Coffee?"
"Coffee sounds like the best idea I've heard in a really long time." She took the mug from him and held the warm ceramic in her hands. "So, Mr. Lawyer," she said after she took a sip of the dark liquid. "What do you suggest we do?"
"Move to a little Italian villa and drink cappuccinos all day long and pretend all of this never happened."
"If only," she sighed. She realized he wasn't wearing his uniform of a suit and tie, but instead he was wearing what he wore in Kelly's that day-a white t-shirt underneath a gray sweatshirt, the zipper at the top. He looked at her with acceptance, with warm, unjudging eyes.
She wanted to tell him so much what happened in the restroom the night before; she wanted to tell him about the rape, about all of it, not because she was looking for pity or affection, but because she simply wanted to. She wanted him to know about that part of her life. He didn't need to deal with that, though; she didn't need to dump it all on him. He had other things to deal with than some girl's issues about having been raped several years before.
"You can tell me," he said softly, and she realized he was studying her.
"How do you know I have anything to say?" she said, laughing.
"You had the look on your face that people have when they're thinking 'Do I or don't I tell him'. I'm a lawyer, remember," he added with a grin.
"Yes, I've heard that," she replied. "And I've also heard you're a good lawyer, although I have yet to see any proof of that."
"Oooh," he said, mock-grimacing. "That one cut deep."
They both stopped and looked at each other, and she could feel that familiar heat in her cheeks. So she decided to tell him-first about the bathroom, and then about the rape. She told him, and she watched as his cheeks tightened, an anger in his eyes.
Then she told him about the rape, and he reached out to take her hand, just a tiny, gentle move that warmed her. This time she told it, though, she could tell it without tears. She was all cried out for one lifetime. She would save the tears for someone else.
After she was finished, she took a deep breath and looked away from him; his gaze was so intense, his eyes so caring. She had never felt about anyone the way she felt about him-with the possible exception of Lucky.
Lucky.
Lucky needed to know that Faison was in town.
Lucky. There was something odd about the thought of him.
Ric took the hand he was holding and lifted it to his lips and kissed the palm softly. Then he reached for her face with his other hand, and he touched her cheek and brushed her hair away from her face. "You're one of the strongest people I know," he said to her.
"No, I'm really not," she protested. He had just said to her everything she had been wanting to hear ever since Lucky died. People had said it, not in so many words, but she needed to hear it from someone like him, someone she cared about. "I get upset all the time, and I-"
"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."
That stopped her. She couldn't protest anymore. They just looked at each other, and his hand was still behind her head. Suddenly, he leaned forward and kissed her, lightly, just once. Then he pulled away, not much, still so close to her that she could smell him and feel his body warmth, and he said with a grin, "Did I mention you look amazing in my robe?"
"That sounded like a line," she replied, laughing. "You better watch your luck, mister-"
Then she stopped as something hit her like a Mack truck.
"You better be careful. You could stunt your growth."
"Is there a reason you care?"
"Uh uh."
"Well that's too bad. What's your name?"
"Lucky."
"We'll see."
That couldn't be the answer. It was too easy, too right in front of her. It answered too many questions, solved too many problems, made her feel so much better about so many things.
But then again, the feeling of betrayal she felt was like none other.
She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She knew now why she couldn't name the man in the restroom from the night before-it was because her brain simply refused to.
Lucky.
"What is it?" Ric asked her.
"I know who it was. I know who attacked me last night."
"Who?"
"Lucky," she told him softly. "It was Lucky."
"What?"
She explained to him the mind control and Helena, and what Faison had done to him, was still doing to him.
"Do you think he's capable of hurting people?"
"The Lucky I knew? No way. This Lucky?" She had to think about it, had to review the evidence before she could condemn someone she loved as much as she had loved Lucky. "Yes. Absolutely."
"You're not safe here," he told her, standing up. "You have to get out of Port Charles."
"I don't think so," she replied, rising to meet his height. "I know Lucky the best; I know the Lucky he once was. I'm the only one who can help him."
"I don't like this."
"I don't like it, either. I was in love with him, remember?" She thought of the knife in her side, of the way the blade had pranced along her hip. He hadn't cared that he was hurting her; she didn't matter to him anymore. But once upon a time, she had.
The real Lucky had died in that fire. He was never coming back. Some part of her had always held out for him, but she realized that he was dead, to the world, to her, and to himself.
"I have to go talk to Jason," she said quietly. "I have to tell him about Courtney. I just have to make sure that he's not going to hurt Lucky, just protect Courtney." There was a little spurt of laughter that shot out of her mouth, and she said, "I can't believe it's Courtney. Courtney. Out of everyone in Port Charles, Courtney. I'd rather save Carly."
"I wouldn't," Ric said with a grin. He looked at her and then he pulled her towards him, enveloping her in his arms. "After all of this is over, what do you say we get a cup of coffee? Maybe go see a movie?" She felt him kiss the top of her head, and she smiled into his chest.
"I think that's a plan. And I also think this is a good time for me to wear one of your shirts. Mine has blood all over it."
*
Sonny's bodyguards were reluctant to let Ric into the elevator to head up to the Penthouse, but Elizabeth prevailed. She wasn't going up there without Ric, and she told them so. She felt conspicuous, wearing her own jeans but Ric's yellow shirt, the one he had been wearing when she had gone to check on the music coming from his room. She liked the feeling of belonging, though, as though the shirt expressed the idea that he belonged to her and she to him.
It also expressed something else, something a lot less savvy and a lot more risqué. On some level, she hoped Jason wouldn't even notice. As they headed down the hallway, Ric took her hand in his own, and he squeezed it, providing his own brand of moral support. She suspected he needed some from her as well.
She knocked on Jason's door, and finally he opened it, looking tired and worn, but still very much like the person who had once been her best friend. He looked at her, and then he looked at Ric, and then he looked at their joined hands.
Elizabeth just didn't care. There was nothing in her that wanted to say, 'See what you missed out on?', because if Jason hadn't pushed her away so many times, if she hadn't been able to come to the conclusion that they just weren't meant to be, then she would never be standing where she was, next to Ric, her hand in his.
It was funny the way the world worked.
"Is everything okay?" Jason asked.
"Can we come in?" Elizabeth replied.
"You can," he said to her, not looking at Ric.
"Oh, come on, grow up," she said, and she pushed by him into the apartment, pulling Ric along with her. She wasn't about to watch a macho pissing contest; she was only there to help Courtney. She sat down on the leather couch, a couch she knew well, and she avoided looking at the pool table, because it was just a reminder of things long ago. She made Ric sit down next to her, and she waited for Jason to close the door.
"This is about Courtney," she said to him.
"Elizabeth, I thought we-"
"Jason, look at me. Do I look like I came here to have a fight?" His blue eyes focused on her, and he stared at her, hard, for just a moment, and then he shook his head. "I was attacked in the bathroom at Kelly's last night," she told him, and she quickly slid over the words, because she knew how he would react. "And the man who attacked me threatened Courtney."
Jason sat down and looked at her. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she told him, "but we need to-"
"Elizabeth," he warned.
"Jason, I've been better, but I've been worse. This isn't about me-"
"Who was it?" he asked her.
"It was . . . " she started, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Jason. She looked at Ric, and he squeezed her hand again. "It was Lucky," she said softly. "Lucky. But I don't think he'd be the one-"
She was cut off by the ringing of a cellphone. She looked at Ric, who looked at Jason. Jason pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered it. "What?" he said.
The time seemed to stretch forever.
Elizabeth knew what the phone call was about before he had even answered it.
They were too late. She should have stayed up the night before, should have gone to Jason immediately.
Jason's eyes were fixated on her, and he made some mumbling sounds, and then after an eternity, he hung up the phone. No one said anything for the longest time, and the finally, Jason spoke, confirming her fears. "That was Sonny. Courtney's in the morgue."
Too late. They were way too late.
Jason stood, and Elizabeth recognized the look on his face. He was angry. Sadness was not written there, just fury. "Elizabeth-" he started, and she braced herself. When Jason got angry, he got angry. She had just never been the object of his anger. "You should have come to me last night," he said. "You could have stopped this-"
"Hey," Ric said, suddenly just as angry as Jason was. "Do not blame this on her. This is not her fault."
"If she had come to me last night, I could have protected Courtney."
"And what if you couldn't? Would it still be her fault?"
Elizabeth watched wordlessly as the two men glared at each other, and then she stood up, if only to break the silence. "I'm sorry for your loss, Jason," she said quietly. "We'll find a way to take care of this." Then she took Ric's hand in hers and lead him out of the Penthouse.
To be continued . . .
"Forgetting all I'm lacking
Completely and complete
I'll take your invitation
You take all of me
I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you.
-- 'Hanging by a Moment' by Lifehouse