A/N: Good news! This story is almost done!
I hope you've enjoyed what you've read so far.
Only three or four more chapters with the resolution and ending and it'll be complete.
And yes, the story will have an uplifting ending.
Chapter 12
Dorian:
We sleep late Sunday morning and rise slowly, having a late lunch.
Sunday is fairly peaceful and Risa and I see Starr and Hope off at the airport.
Risa and I eat at an El Salvadorian place for dinner on the way home, then that night we drift off to sleep early.
I wake up early Monday morning just as it's getting light outside, feeling as if I had been very frightened, but am now calmer.
I'm also surprised to feel that my face is streaked with tears. I lay there for a while watching the shadows fade into a blue-gray in the autumn dawn.
My fear has mostly faded, but traces of anxiety still linger as I get up to get ready for work.
Looking in the mirror, I'm a tad dismayed to see faint gray shadows beneath my eyes along with lines wrinkling the middle of my forehead and my normally swarthy face quite pale.
After washing and after combing my hair, I do my best to conceal the undereye shadows and paleness, so I don't go into the chambers looking haunted.
There's not much I can do about the wrinkles, which have always appeared on and off since my teens and are growing deeper with age, so I comb my bangs straight down, so they aren't so noticeable.
Happy birthday, Dorian Cramer Lord, I remember with a wry smile as I finish getting ready.
Most of my actual birthday is quiet, thank goodness no chambers session today...I spend most of the day in the office.
I am touched when a small group of office workers enter my office with a small cheesecake with one candle singing happy birthday to me.
I also receive several lovely calls, messages and cards today, including my friend Ezra, who is traveling overseas on a diplomatic mission and from my former son-in-law Todd.
The rest of the week is a challenge, however because as I check my e-mails, I get glimpses of more social media posts from Llanview.
My receptionists must field a particularly nasty call from both Monroe and Natalie that I block.
I also see videos from Cord, Jessica, Roxy, Ford and John on the news blaming each other and me for the entire mess, although I try to tune them out.
Nora e-mails me to let me know that she won't be representing Viki after all, even though Cord and Monroe have threatened her...she actually has fled to New Jersey and is staying with a friend there.
I'm glad Nora has escaped and I once again am immensely relieved that I didn't give Tina any information on my address.
Another deluge of nightmares plagues me for several nights in a row, which Risa sees...I know she's worried about me.
I know that she has been seeing the terrible things being said about me on social media from the Llanview clique.
Tina posts a particularly hateful video that I allegedly was her "friend," but that I supposedly "threw her under the bus in her time of need."
Natalie adds an equally cruel video disparaging both Tina and me, accusing Tina of "cavorting with that corrupt, evil, vile woman" and Tina of "bringing havoc on all of Llanview."
I also have a few anxiety attacks that I manage to keep under wraps in my office.
One afternoon, I think I see jail bars on my window and start shaking with tears filling my eyes.
Putting my head down on my desk, I struggle to get the feeling past the terrible sense of panic...a few quiet tears streak my face.
In one horrifying nightmare, I am in my old bedroom back in Llanview and am in bed with Joe.
Viki storms in and starts her sanctimonious yelling and carrying on, her pale blue eyes bulging and icy in rage, fangs showing.
Joe and I try to escape, but red lighteninglike tentacles shoot out of Viki's blond hair and reach out to wrap themselves around the bed and imprison the two of us, preventing our escape.
I wake up with a scared cry early that Thursday morning, shaking violently, tears in my eyes.
It takes me a few minutes to break loose and to realize that I'm in DC.
I have to convince myself that Viki is not coming up the stairs to storm into my room to imprison and kill me.
"Gran..." Risa says softly in worry a few minutes later when I join her at the table.
I softly touch her hand, so glad that she's here, so glad to be in the present day and not 1994. We hug for a long minute, but we have to eat and get going.
Outwardly, I appear mostly calm, even through a chamber session, but I feel a sense of fear rising periodically inside of me.
I'm afraid to go anywhere for lunch or take my customary stroll through the streets of Capital Hill, fearing perhaps irrationally that somebody from the Llanview elite clique will have traveled to DC to hunt me down here on Capital Hill, so I eat a burrito in my office, even though my stomach feels tight with twinges of pain.
I'm so nervous to walk home by myself that I beg a security guard to walk with me home.
"Ooo," she says sympathetically. "A hate letter or hate online, Senator Lord?"
"Something like that," I say.
Getting home, I triple-check the locks on my doors and windows and ask my staff to not allow any visitors near my premises.
•••••••••••••
It almost feels as if I'm back in Llanview where I sleep poorly, only dozing for a couple of hours, then waking up frightened and unable to sleep for the rest of the night.
Either that, or whenever I can get sleep, it's wall-to-wall nightmares.
It's the Friday before Veterans' Day weekend when I have a serious panic attack, my first bad one since I left Llanview.
Our session has ended a bit early, so it's around four when we leave work for the weekend.
I'm picking up Risa from a medical appointment, so I have my car with me and I drive over to the doctor's office to pick up Risa since we're heading to Maggiano's for dinner tonight.
But I can't get rid of the fear...my hands shake, my stomach is in painful, spastic knots, my face is pale and my legs feel weak.
Thank goodness I manage to park, but now my vision is blurred and dimmed, the colors indistinct.
Even the beautiful remaining autumn leaves on the trees and ground seem to have faded into a sort of darkness.
My mind tricks me into hearing the clanging of prison doors, then I jump when I feel Viki's vicelike grip on my arm as she calls me "corrupt" and "immoral."
I'm struggling to sit up over my steering wheel, desperate to protect Viki and myself and hide all the vile things Victor had done, including the rape, the incest and the hidden nazi gold.
I'm ready to pour the lye on Victor's remains when Viki's claws suddenly seize my hair, pulling me back, threatening me...
My hands frantically reach the back of my hair as I close my eyes to try to ward the feeling off, but have a sensation of tumbling down a flight of stairs, fearing that Viki will have finally killed me...
A talonlike grip is on my arm and my throat is sore from being almost strangled, but I am horrified to see Sloan glaring over me, manhandling me, ready to crush me or throw me down on the hard marble floor of the hospital chapel.
I must try to get free of this vile predator and go to my daughter, whose child has just died...all of us...Sloan, Viki, Andrew and myself...had a role in causing the miscarriage.
I absolutely must go to my beloved daughter and try to make it up to her for being a horrible mother, but Sloan won't let me.
My throat really hurts now, so I reach up to try to pry Clint's ironlike hands from my throat since I can't breathe.
My heart pounds as Clint is actually intent on killing me for exposing the corruption in Buchanan Enterprises.
I vaguely hear the yelling and fighting among Jessica, Nash, Natalie and Jared, then that horrible smash that signals Jared murdering Nash...
"Gran!" The familiar voice breaks though my consciousness.
An urgent knock sounds on the window and I jump, my breath pulling in with a sharp gasp, cool air rushing into my lungs.
Risa is there, her eyes wide and frightened, so I unlock the doors and wave her in.
"Please!" I beg, tears streaming down my face. "Close the door quickly before Clint finds you here and kills us both!"
Risa does, staring at me with wide tearful eyes as I lock the doors, shakily sitting up.
"Gran..." Risa reaches over gently as I begin to weep, feeling utterly helpless against the Lord-Buchanan curse that has a grip on me, even here in DC. "Gran...Clint is dead and Viki is in jail awaiting trial."
I'm so pathetically happy to be here in DC with my granddaughter and not in Llanview at war with the old-money crowd that I wail, "Risa...I need therapy..." and collapse in Risa's arms just absolutely crying.
•••••••••••••
Risa:
I don't know how long Gran and I weep in each other's arms that chilly November afternoon in our parked car after she admits that a therapist could help her deal with her anxiety attacks and her past. It could be ten minutes, it could be an hour.
We slowly part, occasional tears still streaking our faces and gaze out at the swirling multi-colored leaves.
Finally, my grandmother fumbles about in her handbag and pulls out tissues for us.
Blowing our noses and wiping our eyes, we both have to swallow simultaneously.
My eyes are red and Gran's brows twitch, alternating between relaxing and tightening upward over the bridge of her nose.
"Still feel like eating...?" she asks me.
"Sure..." I manage a weak, watery smile at her.
She attempts a smile back, but only manages a tight lip stretch. Her eyes are still full of tears.
"Gran...do you want me to drive?" I ask.
She nods. We switch sides and I get into the drivers' side.
"I think this therapy will be good for you," I tell her as we continue up toward Maggiano's.
"Perhaps..." Gran nods. "But if they hand me any pill prescription, I'm out of there."
"Well, we can look up another therapist then," I reassure her. "Here in DC, we have a huge range of options, unlike back in Llanview."
"I wonder if that's why Viki..." Gran trails off a bit, her dark eyes still a bit troubled-looking.
"I think it was that she discontinued her therapy too soon," I say. "Didn't you mention that she stopped as soon as her symptoms seemed to recede and the court-ordered mandate expired?"
Gran nods. "And now...she's possibly in jail or a mental hospital long-term..."
Her voice breaks a bit and she seems on the verge of a fresh wave of tears.
The middle of her forehead wrinkles beneath her bangs as she gazes out at the passing buildings, now becoming more interspaced with little parks, a huge private school and residential housing and apartment lots.
However, she doesn't start to cry fully again and instead seems to relax more as dusk settles upon us and the city.