Disclaimer: I do not own Diego or any other canon characters I happen to use from General Hospital for this. I only own my original character Brigitte Ashcroft and any backstory I see fit to come up with her while writing this little story here. Brigitte is not connected to anyone in Port Charles beyond the fact that Courtney, in my version of events, fostered both Brigitte and Diego at the same time because there was no one else to take Brigitte and Courtney didn't have the heart to turn her away. I warn you in advance, there is a lot of pain and old wounds in her backstory that she's attempting to come to terms with. I further warn you that it's vaguely hinted that she dances at a club on the docks. I won't be getting too graphic with anything pertaining to that because tbh, I've never danced a day in my life + this is just a small part of who she is, it's not as if this fact is her only identifiable character trait by any means. Also, I'll be researching the basics on dancing / the club atmosphere, but know that I'm only human and thus, my interpretation may not be perfect at all times. Also I want to put this out there, I'm not a medical or psychology professional by any stretch, but I'll be doing my best to work through stages of grief (the end ones, to be exact) and survivors guilt both from adulthood and childhood. Like with the dancing angle above, I will be doing as much research as I can but please know that I'm only human so my interpretation might not be perfection. It's worth noting that in my version of events, Diego was discovered to not be the TMK, he was cleared by DNA at Georgie's scene. But the stigma of it was too much for him and he chose to leave town. To distance himself and build a new life. During this time, he was (and still is) military. When he felt like returning to Port Charles, he decided that the only way to ensure that nothing like the TMK fiasco occurred again with him getting the blame was for him to complete police academy and become a member of PCPD. By the start of this story, he's reached the rank of Detective and he partners with both Dante and Nathan, wherever his skill set is best put to use at any given time. There's also a lot of angst I'm going to be injecting into his past (Hello, we all know he loved Georgie. Losing her was a huge deal for him.), so yeah.
If you're the type who enjoys a bit of an angsty slow burn and like me, you feel that they wasted potential with so many of these past characters, pull up a seat. This one feels to me like it will be slower paced than the story I've currently got posted for Morgan Corinthos, for what it's worth.
I write strictly in first person. Unless it's a scene that needs a third person narrative and I really do try to avoid those. I also try to go above and beyond to avoid using too many other characters in a work than my own little pairings because I'm just not the best at getting into the mindset of anyone at any given moment and I've known some real die-hards in the GH fandom and I'm pretty darn sure that if I made what they felt to be a serious error in writing / portraying a beloved character, they'd have my head on a spit.
Now that all this is out of the way, the fun can begin.
DIEGO'S POV
There was a moving truck parked at the curb. I pulled my motorcycle to a stop in front of it and got off, taking off my helmet.
The redhead stepped out onto the stoop of the townhouse right next to mine and started down the stairs towards the moving van and the entire time I stood there watching her, the more something about her seemed so familiar.
When she laughed at one of the moving guys, she threw her head back and I made myself look at my own front door just so she wouldn't realize I've basically been standing here staring like an idiot for about three or four minutes at this point.
And then I started to walk towards my own front door.
"Hey! Hey you!" she called out to me, stopping me in my tracks. I turned and glanced back at her, a brow raised. I started to walk closer because she was motioning me over to her place.
She disappeared inside of a house that I could hear music blaring inside of and I was just about to walk back over to my own front door when her front door opened again and she was attempting to drag a heavy and battered brown package out onto her stoop.
I wandered over, chuckling. Lowkey curious to get a better glimpse of her and maybe convince myself that I didn't know her and she wasn't who I hoped she might be deep down.
Brigitte left town years ago and she pretty much disappeared off the face of the Earth as soon as she got away from here.
There wasn't anything tying her to Port Charles and she'd never have a reason to come back.
By the time I was walking up the stairs to her front door, I'd done a fair job of convincing myself that I didn't know my new neighbor and most importantly, there was no way it would be Brigitte.
And then we were face to face and I gaped in shock as soon as it clicked for me just how wrong I was.
She blinked.
Obviously I wasn't the only one surprised at the moment.
"Oh my god, Diego?"
"Gigi?" I mumbled, the shock evident in my tone.
Before she bothered confirming, she was pulling me into a hug, her arms slipping around my neck as she squeezed me tight. Then the hug broke and I chuckled quietly as we pulled apart, gazing at one another.
"Wow. Look at you, all grown up." we both said it the same time and we both laughed about it quietly.
"What uh.. What brings you back to town?"
She shrugged. "Told myself if I never found roots, I'd come back here. Here I am. How have you been, huh? Did you find your father? Did your mom get better?" she asked her own questions in a rush and gazed up at me in concern.
"Found my dad. Actually got pretty close to him before I lost him. He's the one who got me the motorcycle." I nodded to my Dyna Glide parked in front of the moving truck and a little closer to my own front door. "My mom, she.. She got real sick. Died before she got herself straight." I admitted quietly, frowning at the thought. "But my stepmom is great. And my half sister, she's an awesome kid."
The entire time we stood there catching up, I kept wondering how long it would take until my past mistakes and the things I didn't do but wound up taking the fall for got to her and she looked at me the way most everyone else in town seems to, no matter what I do to try and fix it.
She laughed softly and the laughter trailed off. After a second filled with lingering tension and a little awkwardness, she started to talk again.
"This is the only place that ever really felt like home. Why, I don't know. But the past few years have been really rough. Really rough. I… I needed to start over. I needed to come back here." she admitted quietly, her gaze settling on the bricks beneath her feet.
"Define rough…" I muttered, clearing my throat.
"I.. I finally had everything I wanted, Diego and then in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Second love of my life, beautiful baby boy.. All because some drunk driver went a little too far into their lane of traffic. I guess I was right back then, huh? I am destined to be alone. Or cursed."
"You're not cursed. Life is just shitty like that." I answered.
"I know. Just feels better to put all the hurt and the anger on some imaginary curse, okay? Because I don't know what else to do with it, D.. I.. I don't."
I knew exactly what she meant. It's not a thought I haven't had ten thousand times. Losing Georgie, being blamed for the TMK murders.. Losing my father when we were just really starting to bond.. Every single time I remember it all, I feel so damn angry and bitter.
The wind picked up and we both cleared our throat, we both seemed to realize that we'd been standing there staring at each other quietly for an awkward length of time by this point. I nodded to the package and smirked at her. "Thank you."
"The hell is even in that box anyway? It was heavy."
"Parts for the car out in my garage." I answered, chuckling as I bent and picked it up effortlessly. She stuck her tongue out at me and I laughed again.
"It was good to see you again, Gigi. Don't be a stranger, okay?"
She grinned at me and nodded. "And the same goes for you, Diego."
I nodded and despite the fact that I really didn't want to, I made myself walk away and go to my own place.
After I put the package in my garage and took off my boots, I dug around in my pockets for my keys, unlocking the back door to my house and stepping into my kitchen.
The first thing I did was wander over to the fridge and grab myself a Modelo. After I got the top twisted off and drank down half in one go, I stood there, staring across the space that separated our townhouses. Making myself look elsewhere when she wandered into the kitchen and hoisted herself up onto the counter with a fork in her hand.
From the looks of it, she was eating a chocolate cake.
I snickered quietly. The fact that even now she still had the worlds most vicious sweet tooth was comforting somehow, as if maybe no matter how much everything changed, some things wouldn't ever change.
BRIGITTE'S POV
I wandered out of my bathroom and into my bedroom, letting the towel fall to the hardwood floorboards beneath my feet. After digging around, I managed to find which of my bags I'd packed away my favorite nightclothes in and I grabbed for that thin black t shirt and just like every other night since the one I lost Aaron, I held the shirt against me and buried my nose in it.
His cologne was fading and the realization had me frowning as a wave of sadness enveloped me. Next door at Diego's place, one of the upstairs lights turned on and before I could turn away and stop staring into his window, he walked out into the bedroom, a towel slung low on his hips.
I sucked in a sharp breath and after a second or two to at least appreciate the view I had, I made myself get away from my bedroom window and wandered over to my closet instead. Tugging on the thin t-shirt as I wandered into the bathroom off of my bedroom and picked up my toothbrush.
I can't explain it, really. It's like I've been on autopilot for the better part of three and a half years now, and for whatever reason, the second I crossed over the city lines and found myself back in Port Charles, it feels as if I'm waking up.
Like I can feel again.
But everything hurts. Everything is a raw nerve.
Finding out that my foster mother Courtney died years ago was just a fresh pain on top of all the old pain I've been doing my best to bury.
The buzzing of my cellphone drew me out of my thoughts and as soon as I saw the text from the girl who'd given me my interview at the club on the docks earlier, I took a deep breath.
Stopped to think for a second or two.
And then I texted her back that I was grabbing a change of clothes and heading down to the club as soon as possible.
If I stay here all I'm going to do is lie awake all damn night. I haven't slept properly in so long I think my body's just existing on coffee, alcohol and purely to spite me at this point. At the thought surfacing, my eyes settled on a faint scar on the inside of my wrist.
And further up my arm, a fading set of teeth marks.
Scars fade, this much is true.
But survivors' guilt? That's something that hasn't ever really gone away, at least not for me. And it's really done a number on me over the years.
I have no one left.
I had everything I ever wanted and the selfishness of a stranger took it all in the blink of an eye and thanks to countless hours of therapy, I'm only just getting to the point where I'm realizing that this is something I might not ever manage to wrap my head around.
I'd just shut off the light to my living room and grabbed the black Nike gym bag with my change of clothes for the end of my night and stepped out onto my stoop when I found myself body to body with Diego.
Fully dressed, but his hair still damp from the shower he'd taken earlier.
"Diego, hi.. What's up?"
"I wanted to give ya a heads up, Red.. There have been break ins on this block for the past two months now." and he seemed to remember the clear tupperware bowl in his hand, chuckling quietly as he held it out to me. "Also thought you might want something to eat. It's what's left of the chili I made last night?"
I smiled and took the covered tupperware dish.
He glanced at my bag and then met my gaze. "Hot date already?"
"I.. I actually work nights." I answered as vague as possible. It's not that I'm ashamed of my new job. There is no shame in it for me, at the end of the day, it pays my bills and it keeps me doing something I used to love to do when I was younger… But for some reason, when I went to explain further to Diego, it's like the words got stuck in my throat.
Until finally, they came.
"I got hired. Dancing three nights a week at that little club down by the warehouse district."
He gazed at me a second or two, rubbing his chin as if he were contemplating something. Then he nodded and shrugged.
But there was this look in his eyes when they met mine. And I wasn't sure whether it was concern or disgust.
I sighed quietly and went to step around him, but he reached out, a large and rough hand circling my wrist as he got me to stop walking and turn back to look at him.
"Hey, be careful down there, alright?"
"We all gotta die sometime. But yes, I will. Scouts honor." I gave him a smaller and tighter smile. Diego's mouth opened and closed and he didn't let go of the wrist he'd grabbed hold of.
But when he did, he cleared his throat. "Give me your phone."
I raised a brow, but I did as he asked. He took my phone and after a second or two, he handed it back to me.
"My cell phone number, the number to the station and the number to both of my partners are in there, alright? If anything goes down… Call, please? Look, you were my best friend. I.. I don't want anything happening to ya, alright? Besides, I kinda promised Courtney that we'd always look out for each other, remember?"
I nodded solemnly. Then I managed a better smile and thanked him again, for the food and the moment's concern.
Then I hurried down to get into my car and I took off, heading in for my first night working the club by the docks.
The only thing I could absolutely console with myself, I had the passing thought as I drove, was that I feel like I'm waking up. Everything feels raw. I can feel again. And honestly, I don't know whether to interpret that as a consolation or be concerned because of it.
But Port Charles is the only town I've ever lived in that even felt a little close to home. And maybe right now, that's what I need.
