A/N: Been too long, I tried to make it a little longer to make up for my sabbatical.
If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging at your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do—the only thing— is run." - Lauren Oliver
"Sing to me Mommy"
His eyes are already half closed when he asks, the mop of blonde hair in her lap, her fingers curled around a couple tendrils as she soothes him. There is a secret part of her that fears the day he's too old for this, so she relishes in the moment that he wants his mommy to climb in bed and sing him a song.
"You want a song?" she asks, smiling, amazed that she was given this precious gift, that after everything, it was worth coming to the place where she is, Danny's mom.
He cuddles closer to her, "Mmm, the comet one" he murmurs sleepily.
Closing her eyes, she recalls the lyrics. She couldn't tell you the first time she heard the song, somewhere on the road with Cody, sitting in the backseat of the van, looking up at the stars, it had stuck with her.
Promises of a better life, of following the stars to her true north.
Little sleepy boy
Do you know what time it is?
Well the hour ol your bedtime's
Long been past
"Yeah that one"
And though I know you're fighting it
I can tell when you rub your eyes
You're fading fast
Fading fast
His chest is moving rhythmically by the chorus but she continues to sing, slow and low, not wanting to miss out on these moments, to hold onto the good and forget all the bad.
Won't you run come see St. Judy's Comet
Roll across the skies
And leave a spray of diamonds
In its wake
I long to see St. Judy's Comet
Sparkle in your eyes
When you awake
(St. Judy's Comet – Paul Simon)
It's the fourth night in the week she falls asleep in his bed, with his little body curled around her, back still against the headboard but it's where she feels the most herself these days. It's an hour or two before dawn that she wakes, stiff and warm, and extricates her from his little tangled limbs. Stretching out, she goes to the window, looks up at the way the stars cover the sky, glistening off the lake like a million diamonds.
"You ever coming to bed"
The voice behind her is familiar and foreign, deep timbers not registering in the lost registers of her mind, but more shallow memories, still strange on her skin.
"Yeah" she says, turning away from the night sky, towards two crystalline eyes and a small smile that plays on his boyish face.
"You know, if it wasn't confident, I'd be worried that you seem to prefer sleeping in a toddler bed…I mean, we can get a twin, if you feel more comfortable" he teases with just the slightest hints of truth singeing the edges.
Instead of saying anything, she forces out what she hopes mimics a playful chuckle, walks towards him and slaps his chest, "He's cuter than you" she teases, but averts her eyes down the hall, back to their room…to the old bed, with the new sheets…to match her old husband…with her new husband.
OoO
"Gotcha"
Fingers hit the keys in rapid succession. After ten days of running through different databases, she finally got a hit. The info comes in slowly, and she's chewing the skin on her thumb, waiting for the articles to reveal themselves.
The tension releases with a sigh when the license pops up, "Ohio" she murmurs, "Looks like we found you"
OoO
He meets her at her office, breathless, keys jangling in his pocket and she hands him the file, "Changed his name, that's probably why you couldn't find him. Dominic Campanelli is now Dominic Carter, Ashtabula, Ohio…he's a fisherman…lives on a houseboat" she tells him and he opens it, eyebrows knitting as he flips through the documents.
When he looks up at her, his eyes are shimmering and his dimples crater into his cheeks, "You're amazing" he whispers, "Thank you"
Their eyes meet, and her skin prickles with an ache to reach out, to grasp his wrist, to wrap her arms around him and pull him so close that she can't tell which one of their hearts is beating against her chest.
But she doesn't trust herself to be able to let go.
His hand slides into his pocket and pulls out his phone, typing, "Three hours" he tells himself, "Looks like I'm going to Ashtabula" he tells her with the dance of danger in his eyes.
"We're" she tells him before thinking…because that's what they do, together. Adventure buddies...pals…friends, and she's not going to let him do this alone.
His eyebrows raise and mouth opens and she puts up her hand, "No, I'm coming, so don't even say it" she tells him already grabbing her phone.
Danny is already having his sleepover at the Quartermaine mansion, so she fires off a text to Jason, "Case is going to run in overtime, may not see you till the morning" she tells him, "Danny's at your mom's" and then she's throwing her phone in her bag and looking up at his amused face, "If we leave now, we can get there and back before I pick up Danny for breakfast"
"Let's go"
OoO
They fall into grooves, like calloused fingers on a well loved guitar, slow and steady on the bridge, strumming softly in the same staccato rhythm they found so easily. He drives too fast, and she closes her eyes, the wind in her hair and she's 16, the first time she went out on her own, tasting freedom in the way the cool air slaps against her face, like nothing else exists for a moment but them and the open road.
Not that she would trade the life she's lived, the life she has because being a mother grounded her, gave her roots and strength that she couldn't have imagined before.
Still, she'd be lying if she didn't admit that it had also settled her…tied her down, made her want to give things to her son she never had. Stability…a father….an intact family.
"Whatcha thinking" he asks as she rolls up her window.
The sun is setting, and the lights are started to pepper her line of vision, "I was just thinking about how I ended up here" she tells him, "Not here, HERE literally, but in Port Charles, just remember the nights on the road, living by the trail of stars" she admits wistfully.
A chuckle escapes his throat, "Do you ever just ache to run?" he asks, his voice full of wonder, "I love my life…I love Emma more than anything but sometimes…everything feels too…restrained. Sometimes there's a part of me that aches for that freedom…" he admits trailing off before looking over at her, "I probably sound like a horrible person"
When he looks back to the road, she lets her eyes linger on the clench of his jaw, the slow stubble appearing on his face, "Not at all" she tells him, biting her lip, "I know just how you feel"
OoO
Her eyes flicker closed two hours in, when the lights go dark and the sound of the car lulls her to sleep. His hand is on her thigh when they pull off the highway, GPS leading them down the town roads, down by the water, and her heart beats faster when the freshness in the air hits her misty from the lake, "We're close" he tells her softly and then pulls hand back to the wheel as they drive towards the marina.
Straightening in her seat, she looks at the boats lined up and smiles, reminding herself that she promised Danny they would go sailing this year, she would teach him about the stars, show him how to steer the boat, to set anchor and sleep under the night sky.
He slows as the GPS has him turn and then they are there, sitting in front of the small boat. His hands clench up and she can't help this time but to reach out, put her hand over his, and in response, just like it's second nature, he flips his hand over and grips hers, still staring in front of him.
They sit silently for a long time, holding onto each other, until a light comes on in the boat and he lets out a deep sight. She squeezes one more time, and he pulls away before looking at her, "I'll go" he starts.
"I'll wait right here. I'm good backup" she says with a wink and gets a smile.
"That you are" he says as he slides out of the car, opens the back door and grabs a file. She slides from her seat too, coming towards the hood and leaning back in anticipation. Her hands grip the light jacket as the breeze runs across her skin.
He's always in her line of sight, and she can't hear what's going on but she watches the interaction, the tense stance, the waving of the hand, and she's ready to jump if it gets physical but Patrick shoves the file against the man's chest and he opens it slowly.
Everything sags after, Patrick's hand on his shoulder, the voices more muted. They lean into each other, heads tilted in understanding, and then they go into the house. It's ten long minutes and she's chewing on her lip until she sees his dark hair peek out of the door.
She pushes up as Patrick runs up the ramp, until he's swooping her into his arms, their bodies flush, warm, her fingers finding themselves wrapped in his hair and his mouth pressed warm against the skin of her shoulder. He sets her down, looking down at her, bright eyes, a small smile, until the door cracks behind him, and suddenly all the tension in the air dissipates and his face drops, pulling back, a visible lump in his throat. His hands that were just on her upper arms drop to his side, "Uhm, I shouldn't, have..." he starts, "I'm sorry"
Her heart steadily beats against her rib cage and she hates herself for the guilt, and hates herself even more for the lack thereof. He scratches his head, "You know, I told him, we'd wait...he has to get in touch with his boss...he didn't...it might be a couple hours" his words are so unlike him, choppy and scratchy in his throat, "Take the car and go back to Port Charles" he finishes, the first definitive statement he's made.
He doesn't look at her, not directly, averting his eyes, rocking on the balls of his feet, and the bile rises in her throat, "I can wait" she manages to whisper out and he shakes his head, "Pat" she rasps out, almost a beg.
The look on his face reminders her of the night she left the house, eyes shimmering with moisture, a wry smile on his face, "Go…go home…to your family, it's for the best" he whispers, like the syllables are acid burning his tongue.
His words hang between them like dirty laundry flapping in cold wind and she swallows hard but nods, "If that's what you want" she tells him, clenching her jaw and grinding her teeth softly.
"I have to"
It's not intended to punch her in the gut the way it does but for a second all the oxygen escapes her body and her lungs collapse into her chest.
Nodding tersely, she doesn't dare speak, pivots without looking at him, beeps the car, climbs in, adjusts her seat and peels back roughly, rocks kicking up under the car.
The tears hit the moment she turns on the main drag, driving next to the water, trails down her cheeks. She pulls off at a beach site two miles down, gets out of the car, slams the door before she's practically jogging towards the water. It's cool, too cold to be out there in a light sweater, but she doesn't feel the chill of the cold, just the sob that hits and she folds at her middle, and cries, deep hearted, trying to suck in the wholeness that the water brings. .
For the best. For the best.
Certainly not for her.
