A New Promise
A short inspired by Jason's decision to leave even after Courtney begged him to stay.
____________________________________________________
Jason Morgan is brain damaged. It is his land mine, what's 'wrong' with him. A label he wears like a scarlet letter.
They say he is emotionless, cold, heartless. They sense the nothingness in his stare when it pierces right through them. He is sizing them up, making quick decisions. Yet he doesn't offer a response or changing expression. He may kill them; he may not. But most likely he'll ignore them until they give him a reason not to, and that's what scares them the most. That's what makes him enforce the best.
But they don't know him, not really, so they could never understand him. Very few people ever did. And that's the way he likes it.
And then there is Courtney. Strong, determined, resilient, accepting Courtney. He opened his heart for her, and she forged his way into his world. She knew enough about it. She could handle it. But tonight she was vulnerable, weaken by fear. Her tears stained his skin. Her pleas echoed in his brain. She begged him to stay -- one night -- she had her reasons. But she was safe and she could wait. He made a promise. He couldn't wait.
He explained to her what it was like waking up in that hospital room. Blinding lights. Chaos and confusion. Doctors probing at him then throwing in the towel. He was supposed to know people he didn't know and to love people that he was not capable of loving. The doctors told him he couldn't love or fear or feel or care. He could mimic if he chose to, but he would never experience it.
He couldn't feel. He was brain damaged, dependent on others to show and teach him, to pity and control him. And that, quite frankly, made him angry.
Anger that once lashed out like a bolt of lightening was tamed over the years. It barely surfaced until someone pushed the wrong button. Courtney tripped the land mine and felt his anger, finally. Hopefully she understood now, fully.
But she could not understand this? Not when she pleaded with him not to go -- not tonight. He wasn't relenting though. Because he is loyal, unconditionally loyal. The label fits him like a glove and he wears it proudly, always, no matter what. He would give his life for loyalty. With one exception.
And he is not ready for that one exception. Now is not the time, he explained to her. And he wouldn't promise that it would be soon, because he doesn't break promises. A family for Jason Morgan? Not now. It would get in the way, cloud him, make him less skilled, make him not willing to die.
Loyalty. Before her, loyalty was the only thing that made him feel something, anything. It's why he exists, why he protects, why he was a father, why he is no longer a father. Why Robin was not the one. It's why he kills-- the only reason he kills.
And loyalty is the reason why he keeps his promises and only makes promises he can keep. And he made no promises to her that he would come home alive. He socked her in the gut with that reality. She knew, but she was not prepared for his bluntness. She was not prepared to lose him - not now she said.
If not now, then when? If later, then why not now? Never. It's Never.
She loves him and he loves her. He made sure he said that before he left, just in case he never came back. His last words would be "I love you."
Love. A new feeling for him. He never asked for it nor thought he deserved it. But he got it. Like a wake up call. It was a daisy spinning around a pole, gyrating, hiding her shame. Someone who made him smile when he didn't want to. The enforcer didn't smile -- the enforcer didn't love. But he did.
Love hugged him and took his breath away. It was a forbidden love. A love for a woman so warm, penetrating and alive. Clinging to youthful innocence that allowed her to see the good in the very, very bad. Turn lemons into lemonade. She saw the good in him, instantly. She was never scared, never intimidated, never judgemental.
She was love and she was loyal too. She lived something he could feel. And he felt for her, even when he tried not to.
She could bake cookies by day and stuff bills in her g-string at night. And he understood why, because he understood loyalty and he understood why a promise made could not be broken. Even if it meant sacrificing, letting happiness drift away, being willing to dance naked, being willing to die.
And that made him fall in love with her fast and hard. It drove him to make love to her on their first date. He knew.
At the edge of the airport runway the wind whispered the hush of Courtney crying, telling him to be careful. She would not trade his life for anyone, not even her best friend.
This came from her, unselfish her? Was she finally expressing what she felt deep inside? Her confession gnawed at him and kept gnawing at him as the plane readied for takeoff. Why was she so irrational, all of the sudden? Was she second-guessing her ability to handle his life? Did she finally know, really know, just what he did for a living?
Or was she just scared?
Fear. He never understood that, never really felt it -- until Courtney. Until he saw her body sprawled across asphalt, lifeless. He feared she was going to die and he saw his future for the first time. It would be Hell without her. He did not want her to leave, to slip gently into that silent night. Fear ripped his heart to shreds while he waited for her to live or die. She lived, and he made promises, new promises that he needed to keep.
She lived and now he needed to return the favor. He needed to stay alive for her, for only her. She was enough. She was the reason for it all.
Jason Morgan would never break a promise. He simply did not know how. He would get Carly and bring her home safe.
But tonight his new promise came first. A promise named Courtney. Off the plane and in his car, he headed to the penthouse. Back to her. Back to love. Back to his future. Not leaving. Not tonight.
A short inspired by Jason's decision to leave even after Courtney begged him to stay.
____________________________________________________
Jason Morgan is brain damaged. It is his land mine, what's 'wrong' with him. A label he wears like a scarlet letter.
They say he is emotionless, cold, heartless. They sense the nothingness in his stare when it pierces right through them. He is sizing them up, making quick decisions. Yet he doesn't offer a response or changing expression. He may kill them; he may not. But most likely he'll ignore them until they give him a reason not to, and that's what scares them the most. That's what makes him enforce the best.
But they don't know him, not really, so they could never understand him. Very few people ever did. And that's the way he likes it.
And then there is Courtney. Strong, determined, resilient, accepting Courtney. He opened his heart for her, and she forged his way into his world. She knew enough about it. She could handle it. But tonight she was vulnerable, weaken by fear. Her tears stained his skin. Her pleas echoed in his brain. She begged him to stay -- one night -- she had her reasons. But she was safe and she could wait. He made a promise. He couldn't wait.
He explained to her what it was like waking up in that hospital room. Blinding lights. Chaos and confusion. Doctors probing at him then throwing in the towel. He was supposed to know people he didn't know and to love people that he was not capable of loving. The doctors told him he couldn't love or fear or feel or care. He could mimic if he chose to, but he would never experience it.
He couldn't feel. He was brain damaged, dependent on others to show and teach him, to pity and control him. And that, quite frankly, made him angry.
Anger that once lashed out like a bolt of lightening was tamed over the years. It barely surfaced until someone pushed the wrong button. Courtney tripped the land mine and felt his anger, finally. Hopefully she understood now, fully.
But she could not understand this? Not when she pleaded with him not to go -- not tonight. He wasn't relenting though. Because he is loyal, unconditionally loyal. The label fits him like a glove and he wears it proudly, always, no matter what. He would give his life for loyalty. With one exception.
And he is not ready for that one exception. Now is not the time, he explained to her. And he wouldn't promise that it would be soon, because he doesn't break promises. A family for Jason Morgan? Not now. It would get in the way, cloud him, make him less skilled, make him not willing to die.
Loyalty. Before her, loyalty was the only thing that made him feel something, anything. It's why he exists, why he protects, why he was a father, why he is no longer a father. Why Robin was not the one. It's why he kills-- the only reason he kills.
And loyalty is the reason why he keeps his promises and only makes promises he can keep. And he made no promises to her that he would come home alive. He socked her in the gut with that reality. She knew, but she was not prepared for his bluntness. She was not prepared to lose him - not now she said.
If not now, then when? If later, then why not now? Never. It's Never.
She loves him and he loves her. He made sure he said that before he left, just in case he never came back. His last words would be "I love you."
Love. A new feeling for him. He never asked for it nor thought he deserved it. But he got it. Like a wake up call. It was a daisy spinning around a pole, gyrating, hiding her shame. Someone who made him smile when he didn't want to. The enforcer didn't smile -- the enforcer didn't love. But he did.
Love hugged him and took his breath away. It was a forbidden love. A love for a woman so warm, penetrating and alive. Clinging to youthful innocence that allowed her to see the good in the very, very bad. Turn lemons into lemonade. She saw the good in him, instantly. She was never scared, never intimidated, never judgemental.
She was love and she was loyal too. She lived something he could feel. And he felt for her, even when he tried not to.
She could bake cookies by day and stuff bills in her g-string at night. And he understood why, because he understood loyalty and he understood why a promise made could not be broken. Even if it meant sacrificing, letting happiness drift away, being willing to dance naked, being willing to die.
And that made him fall in love with her fast and hard. It drove him to make love to her on their first date. He knew.
At the edge of the airport runway the wind whispered the hush of Courtney crying, telling him to be careful. She would not trade his life for anyone, not even her best friend.
This came from her, unselfish her? Was she finally expressing what she felt deep inside? Her confession gnawed at him and kept gnawing at him as the plane readied for takeoff. Why was she so irrational, all of the sudden? Was she second-guessing her ability to handle his life? Did she finally know, really know, just what he did for a living?
Or was she just scared?
Fear. He never understood that, never really felt it -- until Courtney. Until he saw her body sprawled across asphalt, lifeless. He feared she was going to die and he saw his future for the first time. It would be Hell without her. He did not want her to leave, to slip gently into that silent night. Fear ripped his heart to shreds while he waited for her to live or die. She lived, and he made promises, new promises that he needed to keep.
She lived and now he needed to return the favor. He needed to stay alive for her, for only her. She was enough. She was the reason for it all.
Jason Morgan would never break a promise. He simply did not know how. He would get Carly and bring her home safe.
But tonight his new promise came first. A promise named Courtney. Off the plane and in his car, he headed to the penthouse. Back to her. Back to love. Back to his future. Not leaving. Not tonight.