Kelly's-
Brook Lynn Ashton really did not understand what she was getting in to when it came to living around her paternal family again. She was a baby when she left Port Charles the first time. She couldn't remember any of them aside from a few names and maybe a faint memory or two, specifically of Lila. Brook couldn't understand how she could remember someone that she had barely met a few times. It helped with the belief that Lila was something special. Someone with a soul so instantly touching that even if you were only around her for a second you remembered who she was for the rest of your life.
But Lila was gone, and Brook felt that hole in her life just like every other member of the family. Even though they were all together again, more of less, for the first time, it didn't help any. Her parents were still arguing with one another, mostly about Brook herself and the choices that were made concerning her upbringing. Ned swore that she deserved better treatment than Lois was giving her. And then there was Tracy… who was a story unto herself. Brook knew that she and her grandmother would never be the type of people who got together and talked about problems. Even being in the same room with Tracy was a trial.
There was one thing that Brook could not understand: how different her father was. She remembered him quite well, vividly even. He was always so kind generous, willing to do anything for his 'Princess.' She loved that about her father. She loved her father. It wasn't unexpected. Why shouldn't she have? She missed having Ned around and she thought that with the sudden immersion that she had in Port Charles once more that she could get the time that she had missed out on back.
They had spent a lot of time together since she arrived on Christmas Eve, but very little of it was 'quality time.' A few meals here and there, a late night conversation or two, but they never talked about their relationship. Why couldn't Ned just talk about himself? She wanted to know how he was, but he would always end up avoiding the subject. It wasn't fair. Ned was her father, she didn't deserve to have him be something of a stranger.
It was when the Quartermaine household was filled to the brim with the sounds of uproar for the millionth time that Brook took it upon herself to get the hell out of dodge before she was driven insane. Everyone in the family swore that it was because Jason wooed Dillon away that the young man had chosen to leave the mansion. At first Brook was willing to go with that suggestion, but shortly after she realized that Dillon probably just wanted to get away from all the madness. And who could blame him? Certainly not her.
Since she had only been in town for a few days and had yet to remember everything that she had seen there were not many choices that Brook had when it came to finding some sort of distraction from the problems of her life. The one place that sprung into her mind was the restaurant that Dillon had constantly said he hung around. She'd been there once with him and his girlfriend. She'd seen better places in her times, being around the world had its perks, but there was a certain degree of charm that came with the small town diner. Plus, it had a jukebox, which was a quick way to get on her good side. The music that was played on the radio was always so empty of meaning. Nothing but commercialism. Jukebox music was the music that had soul, the music that she loved. Music like her father used to play, before he sold out.
Walking in, Brook saw that nobody she knew was in the restaurant. It didn't surprise her, since she could count the amount of non-blood relatives that she knew on two hands and could shorten the count considerably if she thought about those that she would want to talk with. Carly Corinthos, for example, was not on that list. But it wasn't all well and good. Brook wanted a friend, something that she really didn't have. It was hard to make longstanding connections with people when she was always going around from place to place with whatever band her mother was promoting. Most of the bands didn't have members who had children, let alone ones that they would bring on a tour. Brook was special, but nobody ever asked her if it was the kind of special that she wanted.
Instantly, the young beautiful siren found herself pulled toward the music making machine, as if it were her salvation. Without many people in the restaurant she could be free of feeling guilt over picking a song that they wouldn't like. Besides, who didn't like Heart? Popping in a quarter, Brook Lynn selected one of the longstanding group's signature songs, their first number one hit. She'd met them once or twice before, at concerts with more than one group. Ann and Nancy were so cool and they didn't give in to the trends. They played the music they wanted and knew that it would speak for itself.
Besides, Brook could relate with the song. She had dreams, too. Dreams of a happy family, a boy that she could be friends with, that she could love. Everything that she wanted, and all it seemed like was, to paraphrase the song in question, dreams that went on when she closed her eyes.
Taking a seat near the jukebox, Brook placed her bag over the side of the chair and sat down, hoping that the music would help drown out her problems. Music was often the only thing that she could depend on to make her happy. Much like her father it was her salvation, but Ned had lost the way. She still loved her father, but she couldn't help but feel pity for him.
"Seems to me like you've got a longing for a Prince who doesn't hide his face from dreams in the mist…"
Brook laughed at the corny line, but understood the context. She was surprised to see Damian. "Where'd you come from?"
"The back."
"Do you work here?" She would get another chuckle out of that. The son of Sonny Corinthos, racketeer and general rich person, working at a diner. Yes, that was something worth a good laugh.
"I help out from time to time. Sometimes doing things that involve washing a dish or two… other times saving someone's life when they have a seizure on the floor. Not that the food caused the seizure. You can still eat the food here. Grandpa cooks well enough."
"How's Morgan?"
"He came home yesterday afternoon. I saw the balloons that you got him… not at the hospital, but when I got home and he was there. They're really colorful. I'm sure he loved them. Thank you for doing that."
"No problem," she blushed at the compliment. She wasn't used to blushing. "I'm just really glad that he's all right. You know, I think you should get something, too. I mean, you're the one who saved his life, right?"
"Only in the most technical way possible," Damian finished wiping the soap off his hands and tossed the paper towels into the nearest garbage. "I only gave him the blood that he needed to kick his immunity level back up. The doctor's made sure that he was stable, and really, Morgan's the one who fought to stay alive. He's a Corinthos and a Spencer… I'm not exactly sure if such a combination should have been allowed by cosmic law, but it must have slipped past them."
"You're funny… I didn't know you were funny."
"I have a few moments here and there when I get a comedic comment coming from my mouth. Trust me, I'm not as funny as I'd like to think I am. In fact, when compared to your Uncle Dillon… hell, I'm nothing."
"It's so weird…"
"What?"
"The fact that he's my uncle. He's only a few years older than me. If we grew up together we'd probably end up being more like brother and sister, or at least cousins. I hope he doesn't expect me to call him 'Uncle Dillon,' because that's pretty much the last thing he'll ever hear me call him." Brook didn't see herself giving such a term of seniority to someone who she could go to school with.
"I would…"
"You're lying."
Damian shook his head, "No, really, I would. And I do. My Aunt Courtney's barely a few years older than me, but she's my aunt."
"Don't you mean 'Tia?'"
"Someone's taken basic level Spanish. It doesn't matter what I call her, if I use the Spanish way, or the English way. I guess because I'm here… in New York, I'm not using the more ethnic term. Back home… I mean, Los Angeles… I would use 'Tio' and 'Tia.' It's complicated… I know."
"Can… can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"How did you manage it?" Brook turned her blue eyes and looked up at him. She didn't know why she was asking someone that she barely knew, but there was something about him. She could see the sincerity in him. Nobody who played the piano could be bad. Or at least that's what she was telling herself over and over. "How did you somehow get connected with these people who you never met?"
"They're my family, Brook," Damian finally took a seat next to her. He could see that she was troubled by something. "Even though I didn't know my father or any of my family here it didn't change the fact that they were. And don't get me wrong… it wasn't easy. Especially at first. I went through a long period of time where I hated my father, deep down I did. It took me longer than I'd like to admit to see past my preconceptions and appreciate Sonny Corinthos for the man that he truly was."
"Why did you hate him? Because he left your mom?"
"Because he lied…"
"But you would want your parents together, wouldn't you?" Brook thought that was what every child wanted, at least on some level. "If you could bring your mom to Port Charles and be with Sonny again, you'd do it, wouldn't you?"
"My mother's dead, Brook. She died when I was fourteen."
"I'm sorry… that was stupid of me."
"Don't apologize. You didn't know. Actually, I'm kind of grateful that you didn't know. Sometimes I worry about all the people around me knowing everything about me. I never had that problem before. I was always sort of pushed aside, but within a few days of being in Port Charles I was suddenly the person of the hour… apparently they didn't take into account the fact that I was moving to the other side of the country would be enough to keep me occupied."
Brook couldn't believe that he was being so nice about it. If her parents had died she would have been angry at people for bringing it up. Why was he able to do that? What kind of person was he? She wanted to know how his mother died, but she didn't want to ask. She didn't want to keep being insensitive, unkind. Lois didn't raise her that way.
Seeing that she was silent again, Damian spoke once more, "You know, to answer your question, no, I wouldn't. Even if my mom and dad were both alive still I wouldn't want them to get together. And that includes even if my dad didn't have Carly, Michael and Morgan in his life. They didn't love each other, Brook. I wasn't conceived out of passion, lust, or anything else. If my parents were both alive and if they cared about one another I would want them together, but based on what happened… I know that it wouldn't be worth it."
"I want mine to get back together…" before she knew it, a single tear was rolling down her face. "I know it sounds stupid, Damian, because that's something that only little kids should want… but I do. I wish my parents could get back together and that they could just be with each other and be there for me."
"They're always going to be there for you… and quite possibly for each other." Damian grabbed a napkin and handed it over to Brook. "They're your parents, Brook. You're going to be the link that will keep them together for the rest of their lives. I know that what you want might seem impossible, and it could be… but don't ever let yourself think that they wouldn't move heaven and earth for you."
"When'd you get so smart?" She wondered as she wiped away the tear, noticing that a few were threatening to approach in addition to the first.
"I had to grow up quick…"
"See? I just keep on saying stupid things."
"You're not saying anything stupid, Brook Lynn. You're asking questions, and the questions you're asking aren't questions I'm not used to hearing."
"So… you think that everything is going to be all right?"
"With the Quartermaine's… you never know." He gave an uneasy chuckle, not wanting to dash her hopes, but certainly not wanting to get them up only to have them be crushed by things beyond her control. "All I can tell you is that you have people here who care about you. People like your parents, like Dillon, be he your uncle, surrogate brother, cousin, or just some kid with crazy hair and an unhealthy obsession for movies…"
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"If I need help with something… can you help me?"
"If I can help you with something, Brook, I'll be the first one to offer it. And even if it's not something I can help you with, I'll at least try to listen. I can promise you that."
"Thanks," she smiled meekly as she reached over and hugged him for a moment. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that her problems would wash away, but at least she knew that she had help.