Title: La Vie En Rose
Fandom: General Hospital
Characters: Tracy Quartermaine
Prompt: #14 Chair
Word Count: 1,309 words
Rating: G
Summary: Tracy teaches Dillon a lesson in culture, and Dillon teaches Tracy a lesson in hope.
Author's Notes: Past!fic. Set when Tracy and Dillon are living in Europe. Dillon is about eight. Just too sugary sweet for words. You've been warned.

Paris was beautiful. Tracy breathed it all in, the streets, the energy, the loveliness of it all. Her hand was wrapped in Dillon's as he walked next to her through the Sarbonne district. His eyes were everywhere, wide and excited, and she couldn't help laughing. She remembered, as she always did, her first trip here when she was twelve, with Lila. She'd been so excited she couldn't sleep at all. She'd wanted to see everything, do everything, buy everything…

Funny how some things never changed.

"This is a wonderfully historic part of the town," she said, affecting the tone of a tour guide. "The most amazing artists and writers and philosophers called Paris their home, Dillon. You're going to fit in just fine."

It was wishful thinking. She hoped he would fit in fine. She had no idea where he would fit in, or where they would live, or how she would see to his education. The split with the Solieto family had, as she knew it would, left her practically destitute. Already she was feeling the brunt of it, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the worrying about where they would get their next influx of cash. She'd called in every favor she could to get them here, not to mention several well-placed groveling sessions.

It was barely enough to get her on her feet, but she was here, and Dillon was far away from New York, away from the sordid life she wanted so much to leave behind. It was enough, but just barely, and Tracy fully intended to change her direction, if only to give her son a chance at a good life. She'd been through worse times, and Tracy knew there was no challenge she couldn't face, as long as she stayed tough, as long as she remembered who she was.

"You'll have to brush up your French," she said breezily as she pointed out a chair she liked in an antique shop window. It was Louis VIV, like the ones she'd had in the sitting room of their condo in New York. It was so far out of her price range now she didn't even want to think about it. "You've got the basics, but I'm sure you'll pick up the finer points in no time." She paused to admire the chair, but found herself admiring their reflection in the shop glass even more.

Tracy and Dillon, mother and son, hand in hand on the streets of Paris on a beautiful summer day. It was like something out of an Audrey Hepburn movie. Her son was so amazing to her--this handsome, soft-spoken child who rarely complained, never acted up. This bright little man who had the biggest imagination, who always made her smile, who always kept her sane, even when she thought it was only moments until she went completely mad.

She wondered how much he remembered of his early life, how much he remembered of Europe, of traveling so much, of running to and from places, sometimes with bill collectors right on their heels. She'd dragged him here as a baby, running as she always seemed to be, from his father, from her father, from the mess she'd left behind in Port Charles. Now there was another mess she was running from, and Tracy had to fight another wave of depression.

A good mother would give this child a steady home. A good mother wouldn't keep moving him around, from place to place, from school to school, from stepfather to "uncles" to Mommy all alone again….

"Am I going to have tutors again, Mom?" he asked, leaning his head against her hip as he did. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, brushing his hair from his eyes. It was getting long, and she'd need to get it cut soon. "I liked regular school. It was fun, being with the other kids," he added hopefully.

Tracy sighed. It was still summer. She hadn't really gotten that far yet, hoping against hope that her financial situation would improve significantly before the school year started. "We'll see, Dillon," she said. "I haven't made any definite arrangements, yet."

"Mom?" He looked up at her, his enormous blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "I'm glad we came to Paris."

Tracy lowered herself until she was eye-level to him, cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand as she traced his jaw with the pad of her thumb. "I'm sorry I had to pull you out of school early."

"I'm not!" He laaughed, and so did she for a moment. "And I'm glad you're not working for the Solieto's anymore," he added with a little frown. "You were always so…angry…when you worked for them."

"I wasn't angry, really," she said, wishing she knew how to explain it to him--without scarring his little psyche permanently. "It's just…it was a stressful job."

"And the Solietos didn't like you very much," Dillon added with a hell of a lot more perception than she'd given him credit for. "Was it because Gino died so fast after you got married?"

Tracy's jaw dropped slightly, and she laughed softly as her eyes shot upward in an expression of surprise. "Uh, well, yeah, I suppose they…um, associated me with Gino's death. That would make anybody unhappy, don't you think?"

"I don't think they were right to be mean to you, Mom," he said plainly. "It's not your fault he was old."

Tracy chuckled, loving this little man so much at the moment. Leave it to him to stumble on to the gist of the matter, and still see the best of things. "Well, I can understand," she said diplomatically. "They loved him. If anything happened to you, I'd probably be mad at anybody I associated with it, too."

"Even if it wasn't their fault?"

She drew him to her, hugging him gently. "People aren't really rational when it comes to their loved ones." She knew she'd made the right choice, taking him away from New York and the Solietos. Now, if she could only prevent herself from screwing him up completely, Dillon might have a chance of growing into one hell of a man.

"Mom," her son said, as they drew apart and she stood, turning to admire the chair again. "You aren't gonna buy that, are you?" There was a not so subtle hint of disgust in his voice as he said it.

Tracy stared at the chair. Two months ago, she could have had it bought, paid for, and shipped overnight to the States without even thinking about the cost. Now, she wasn't sure she could cover the taxes. "Uh, no. Not while we're in the hotel."

"Thank God! I hate those chairs." He started tugging at her hand, tired of window shopping. "They wobble, and I'm always afraid I'm going to break them. Can we get something to eat?"

Tracy laughed, letting herself be drawn back into the real world, out of her own mind, out of her own worries. "What did you have in mind, my little bottomless pit?"

"Can we go to the two-story Burger King? It's around here, isn't it?"

Tracy laughed, a look of mock disgust on her face. "You're in the culinary capital of the universe, and you want fast food?"

"It's supposed to be great, Mom. It's got two stories, and they have this big disco ball, and they serve wine and everything…."

She pulled him to a stop, kissing the top of his head with vigor as she hugged him. "One time, just to have the experience. And then, my son, I am going to teach you what real food is all about."

"Okay," he nodded, then hesitated. "Just…no snails, okay?"

"No snails," Tracy agreed, and headed off with her son to get the one meal she was absolutely sure she could afford.

The End

Written for the 100situations Challenge.