song
part 11: you must love me
Author's note: Whew. That was a long journey (no references to _______ being made at all), and it was fun. Now I'm taking a break and writing some Liasonfic. Then I will be back for some more LiRic lovin' fun.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, yadayadayada.
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Always. :D
There were so many people gathered for Courtney Matthews-Quartermaine's funeral, and Elizabeth Webber knew all of them, every face, every sad smile, she recognized it. There was anger in the room, pain, sobriety, and there were other factors-but the most important was relief.
Everyone had begun to breathe again. They were slow, steady breaths, one right after another, in and out, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. But there it was, that collective breath.
They had made it through.
Almost. Almost all of them had made it through.
Lucky hadn't killed Cesar Faison. The police had come, and Marcus Taggert had looked down at them and kind of smiled his sad, weary smile, and the rain had begun, and all she could do was lie there in Ric's arms until they made them move to get their account of what had happened. Lucky had never killed anyone.
Someone, some merciful angel, had come in the night and pulled the plug on the man who had tried to destroy Port Charles. No one was going to blame anyone, and even Taggert and Scott Baldwin were prepared to let it go.
Faison vanished into the night like a ghost. His body was burned, because, as Taggert chuckled, no one would be sure that he wouldn't become a zombie or a vampire. Port Charles could be a weird town.
As Elizabeth Webber walked into the church for Courtney Matthews- Quartermaine's funeral, holding her head high and clutching the hand of Ric Lansing, she found she could breathe again. A soft rain fell outside, appropriate for the day and the event.
In this time, in this place, no one was condemning anyone. It was all over. It was all over. It had taken a tragedy and another near-miss to end it, but it was over. They took their seats and sat through the service, but Elizabeth couldn't concentrate.
She was distracted by Ric's right hand across his lap, clutching her right hand, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles subconsciously. She was distracted by his arm around her shoulders, absently playing with chunks of hair that had fallen from her French twist. She was distracted by how happy she was.
Jason was conspicuously absent, and she couldn't blame him in the least. She knew, of all people, she knew how hard it was to attend the funeral of someone you loved, to stand there as all eyes were on you, watching, waiting to see if you would crack.
Their secret was out. Sonny knew, and Sonny knew that Carly knew. It didn't matter, somehow. It didn't matter, not any of it. Courtney was dead, and Sonny had forgiven his best friend. It had only been a week ago that Courtney had been alive, only five days ago that Elizabeth had been held captive in Ric's apartment above Kelly's, only five days ago that Lucky had shot Cesar Faison.
Where Lucky was, no one knew. He had taken to the road, she suspected, to clear his head of the voices that had inhabited that space for so long, too long.
Elizabeth watched the entire service mutely, watched Sonny speak for his dearly departed sister; she sat and watched, feeling sorry but not guilty for the girl's death. There was no more room for guilt, not on anyone's part. It was a brand-new day for the citizens of Port Charles.
After the service, Sonny came to her and kissed her on the forehead and he told her that if Ric ever hurt her, he would personally take care of it. She smiled and told him she appreciated it, and then she had looked at Ric and told Sonny she didn't think he had to worry.
Because he didn't. She was safe, there, with Ric.
*
She set the coffee mug in front of the guy seated at the counter of Kelly's, and she enjoyed the jangle of the ceramic against ceramic, and she smiled. She was smiling all the time these days; she couldn't help it. There was always some reason to be smiling.
This was what love was, she decided definitively as she went to another table and refilled a cup of coffee. This was different than Lucky, different than Jason, a whole hell of a lot different than Zander. This was its own breed of animal, and she loved it. She loved everything about life.
She had been painting again, paintings she was proud of, and she was thinking of submitting them to an art school. It had been a long time since she had felt in a position to put herself out there-in any kind of capacity-ever again.
Somehow, Ric gave her that.
He came down the stairs in a sweater and jeans, but his ear was glued to the cellphone. She smiled. He still had his secrets, but that was part of the draw. He was a mystery man, through and through, and she wanted to discover him, more and more every day. She was always learning something new about who he was, about what he believed in.
He grinned at her, and she smiled back and put her hands on her hips until he came to her, still talking on his cell phone. Sonny had decided to take him back, and since that moment, Ric had been calling the man every second of every day. She was happy for him, even if it meant that kind of life. She wanted him to be happy, and he seemed to be happy that way.
Ending the conversation, he closed his phone and slid it into his pocket. His brown eyes twinkled at her, and he slid up the sleeves of his sweaters and then slid them around her waist. "Well, hello, beautiful," he murmured to her, and he kissed the tip of her nose.
"You know, I'm working here," she teased him.
"You're not into public displays of affection?" he teased back, and she pulled away from him.
"Is that what that was?" she tossed back, and she made her way around the counter.
"You know, I've got plenty of people dying to abuse me. I don't have to take this from you," he replied, grinning at her.
The way he looked at her was enough for her. It got her through entire days, because she knew that when he was looking at her, it wasn't as though he didn't see the flaws-he saw them, and he liked, or maybe even loved, her for them. His brown eyes were always warm when they looked at her; he'd shut off with Sonny or Carly, but there was nothing there but sincerity and caring when he looked at her.
"Well, then," she said, mock-angry with him. She put the coffee pot back into place with a dramatic flourish. "Maybe you should go find those people, and then they can abuse you."
"But I like your abuse so much better," he told her, grinning as he sat down at a seat at the counter. He looked at her steadily, and she gazed back at him.
They had moments like that, simple, precious moments when all they would do was look at each other, appreciating one another, understanding the other. They could communicate without ever saying a word.
"Could you come here and give me a kiss already?" he asked her with a sigh.
"You're a little pushy, you know that?"
"Nope, just a good lawyer."
She could have played that game with him for forever and a day, but suddenly all she wanted to do was kiss him. Oh, Lizzie, she told herself. You are in so much trouble. She went around the counter to him, and he pulled her to him, between his legs as he stayed seated on the stool. She kissed him lightly on the mouth, wanting to sink into his warmth and his comfort but fully aware of the people in the restaurant staring at them. She started to pull away, but he pulled her back to her.
He kissed her, letting his hands rest lightly on her hips.
It was the most natural thing. They fit.
And she had no words to describe what she felt. She was a painter; she could paint it, but not describe it. It felt like . . . the wind, but a thousand times more so. It was like taking flight.
He was the one to pull back from her, and he just looked at her.
"What?" she said with a grin.
"I was just thinking about what a gorgeous girlfriend I have," he replied, those brown eyes of his twinkling with the light of a poker player with an excellent hand.
As far as she was concerned, he had the best hand ever, and he had won the game, no questions asked.
"Girlfriend?" she repeated. "I'm your-"
"Well, unless you have a problem with that. Because, honestly, I'm probably still going to call you that even if you do have a problem."
"No," she whispered. "I don't have a problem with that." She kissed him again, and then she pulled back and licked her lips, savoring the taste of him. "I want to tell people," she said with a smile.
"I don't think you need to," the man seated next to them interjected, and then he gestured to his empty cup of coffee. "And could I get some more coffee?"
"Hey," Ric said to him, still smiling. "This woman is going to be famous one day, and you're going to regret that you ever made her get more coffee." Then he paused and looked at Elizabeth, and then that smile spread across his face. "You want to tell people?" he asked her. "That we're together?"
Before she even had a chance to reply, he had gotten up and leapt onto the counter. She grasped for him, but he was not going to be moved. "Um, excuse me, everyone," he called, and he waited patiently until Kelly's quieted. "I have an announcement to make. Your waitress for the day, Miss Elizabeth Webber, and I are officially a couple." There was a smattering of applause, but he quieted them down with a motion of his hands. "I also would like everyone to know that I am hopelessly in love with her." He grinned down at her, and then the entire place erupted into applause and laughter and talking, and she pulled at his pants until he slid back down onto his stool.
They were both laughing when she said, "I love you. I hope you don't have a problem with that, because, honestly, I'm probably going to tell people that I love you even if you do mind."
He smiled and he replied. "No, no, I don't have a problem with that."
Finis.
"Baby before you Well I was bad news In letting me love you I think I can get through And now I think it's kind of funny that you say you love me You tell me that I'm crazy then you smile And now I think I'll get through The end of the world." -- 'Before You' by Chantal Kreviazuk
part 11: you must love me
Author's note: Whew. That was a long journey (no references to _______ being made at all), and it was fun. Now I'm taking a break and writing some Liasonfic. Then I will be back for some more LiRic lovin' fun.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, yadayadayada.
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Always. :D
There were so many people gathered for Courtney Matthews-Quartermaine's funeral, and Elizabeth Webber knew all of them, every face, every sad smile, she recognized it. There was anger in the room, pain, sobriety, and there were other factors-but the most important was relief.
Everyone had begun to breathe again. They were slow, steady breaths, one right after another, in and out, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. But there it was, that collective breath.
They had made it through.
Almost. Almost all of them had made it through.
Lucky hadn't killed Cesar Faison. The police had come, and Marcus Taggert had looked down at them and kind of smiled his sad, weary smile, and the rain had begun, and all she could do was lie there in Ric's arms until they made them move to get their account of what had happened. Lucky had never killed anyone.
Someone, some merciful angel, had come in the night and pulled the plug on the man who had tried to destroy Port Charles. No one was going to blame anyone, and even Taggert and Scott Baldwin were prepared to let it go.
Faison vanished into the night like a ghost. His body was burned, because, as Taggert chuckled, no one would be sure that he wouldn't become a zombie or a vampire. Port Charles could be a weird town.
As Elizabeth Webber walked into the church for Courtney Matthews- Quartermaine's funeral, holding her head high and clutching the hand of Ric Lansing, she found she could breathe again. A soft rain fell outside, appropriate for the day and the event.
In this time, in this place, no one was condemning anyone. It was all over. It was all over. It had taken a tragedy and another near-miss to end it, but it was over. They took their seats and sat through the service, but Elizabeth couldn't concentrate.
She was distracted by Ric's right hand across his lap, clutching her right hand, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles subconsciously. She was distracted by his arm around her shoulders, absently playing with chunks of hair that had fallen from her French twist. She was distracted by how happy she was.
Jason was conspicuously absent, and she couldn't blame him in the least. She knew, of all people, she knew how hard it was to attend the funeral of someone you loved, to stand there as all eyes were on you, watching, waiting to see if you would crack.
Their secret was out. Sonny knew, and Sonny knew that Carly knew. It didn't matter, somehow. It didn't matter, not any of it. Courtney was dead, and Sonny had forgiven his best friend. It had only been a week ago that Courtney had been alive, only five days ago that Elizabeth had been held captive in Ric's apartment above Kelly's, only five days ago that Lucky had shot Cesar Faison.
Where Lucky was, no one knew. He had taken to the road, she suspected, to clear his head of the voices that had inhabited that space for so long, too long.
Elizabeth watched the entire service mutely, watched Sonny speak for his dearly departed sister; she sat and watched, feeling sorry but not guilty for the girl's death. There was no more room for guilt, not on anyone's part. It was a brand-new day for the citizens of Port Charles.
After the service, Sonny came to her and kissed her on the forehead and he told her that if Ric ever hurt her, he would personally take care of it. She smiled and told him she appreciated it, and then she had looked at Ric and told Sonny she didn't think he had to worry.
Because he didn't. She was safe, there, with Ric.
*
She set the coffee mug in front of the guy seated at the counter of Kelly's, and she enjoyed the jangle of the ceramic against ceramic, and she smiled. She was smiling all the time these days; she couldn't help it. There was always some reason to be smiling.
This was what love was, she decided definitively as she went to another table and refilled a cup of coffee. This was different than Lucky, different than Jason, a whole hell of a lot different than Zander. This was its own breed of animal, and she loved it. She loved everything about life.
She had been painting again, paintings she was proud of, and she was thinking of submitting them to an art school. It had been a long time since she had felt in a position to put herself out there-in any kind of capacity-ever again.
Somehow, Ric gave her that.
He came down the stairs in a sweater and jeans, but his ear was glued to the cellphone. She smiled. He still had his secrets, but that was part of the draw. He was a mystery man, through and through, and she wanted to discover him, more and more every day. She was always learning something new about who he was, about what he believed in.
He grinned at her, and she smiled back and put her hands on her hips until he came to her, still talking on his cell phone. Sonny had decided to take him back, and since that moment, Ric had been calling the man every second of every day. She was happy for him, even if it meant that kind of life. She wanted him to be happy, and he seemed to be happy that way.
Ending the conversation, he closed his phone and slid it into his pocket. His brown eyes twinkled at her, and he slid up the sleeves of his sweaters and then slid them around her waist. "Well, hello, beautiful," he murmured to her, and he kissed the tip of her nose.
"You know, I'm working here," she teased him.
"You're not into public displays of affection?" he teased back, and she pulled away from him.
"Is that what that was?" she tossed back, and she made her way around the counter.
"You know, I've got plenty of people dying to abuse me. I don't have to take this from you," he replied, grinning at her.
The way he looked at her was enough for her. It got her through entire days, because she knew that when he was looking at her, it wasn't as though he didn't see the flaws-he saw them, and he liked, or maybe even loved, her for them. His brown eyes were always warm when they looked at her; he'd shut off with Sonny or Carly, but there was nothing there but sincerity and caring when he looked at her.
"Well, then," she said, mock-angry with him. She put the coffee pot back into place with a dramatic flourish. "Maybe you should go find those people, and then they can abuse you."
"But I like your abuse so much better," he told her, grinning as he sat down at a seat at the counter. He looked at her steadily, and she gazed back at him.
They had moments like that, simple, precious moments when all they would do was look at each other, appreciating one another, understanding the other. They could communicate without ever saying a word.
"Could you come here and give me a kiss already?" he asked her with a sigh.
"You're a little pushy, you know that?"
"Nope, just a good lawyer."
She could have played that game with him for forever and a day, but suddenly all she wanted to do was kiss him. Oh, Lizzie, she told herself. You are in so much trouble. She went around the counter to him, and he pulled her to him, between his legs as he stayed seated on the stool. She kissed him lightly on the mouth, wanting to sink into his warmth and his comfort but fully aware of the people in the restaurant staring at them. She started to pull away, but he pulled her back to her.
He kissed her, letting his hands rest lightly on her hips.
It was the most natural thing. They fit.
And she had no words to describe what she felt. She was a painter; she could paint it, but not describe it. It felt like . . . the wind, but a thousand times more so. It was like taking flight.
He was the one to pull back from her, and he just looked at her.
"What?" she said with a grin.
"I was just thinking about what a gorgeous girlfriend I have," he replied, those brown eyes of his twinkling with the light of a poker player with an excellent hand.
As far as she was concerned, he had the best hand ever, and he had won the game, no questions asked.
"Girlfriend?" she repeated. "I'm your-"
"Well, unless you have a problem with that. Because, honestly, I'm probably still going to call you that even if you do have a problem."
"No," she whispered. "I don't have a problem with that." She kissed him again, and then she pulled back and licked her lips, savoring the taste of him. "I want to tell people," she said with a smile.
"I don't think you need to," the man seated next to them interjected, and then he gestured to his empty cup of coffee. "And could I get some more coffee?"
"Hey," Ric said to him, still smiling. "This woman is going to be famous one day, and you're going to regret that you ever made her get more coffee." Then he paused and looked at Elizabeth, and then that smile spread across his face. "You want to tell people?" he asked her. "That we're together?"
Before she even had a chance to reply, he had gotten up and leapt onto the counter. She grasped for him, but he was not going to be moved. "Um, excuse me, everyone," he called, and he waited patiently until Kelly's quieted. "I have an announcement to make. Your waitress for the day, Miss Elizabeth Webber, and I are officially a couple." There was a smattering of applause, but he quieted them down with a motion of his hands. "I also would like everyone to know that I am hopelessly in love with her." He grinned down at her, and then the entire place erupted into applause and laughter and talking, and she pulled at his pants until he slid back down onto his stool.
They were both laughing when she said, "I love you. I hope you don't have a problem with that, because, honestly, I'm probably going to tell people that I love you even if you do mind."
He smiled and he replied. "No, no, I don't have a problem with that."
Finis.
"Baby before you Well I was bad news In letting me love you I think I can get through And now I think it's kind of funny that you say you love me You tell me that I'm crazy then you smile And now I think I'll get through The end of the world." -- 'Before You' by Chantal Kreviazuk