Monthly Archives: April 2014

April 1, 2014

For some reason, I wrote a ton of short stories in 2006, and four them were posted either at my LiveJournal or on my Yuku board but never made it the main CG site, so I, sitting on vacation and can’t sleep because this is my life and it sucks, figured I’d pass the time by collecting them and posting them here. I think I’m going to have to reorganize the short stories page. There’s too much going on.

Also, haha, the poll results have taken a sharp turn. The Best Thing is maintaining its lead by as small margin, but Counting Stars has supplanted Slide on the list, so the top three are: The Best Thing, Counting Stars and Mad World, but Damaged is coming up from behind and I probably wouldn’t count out Slide just yet.  I have no idea what I’m writing this summer 😛

I have got to learn what it means to be on vacation.

Also, because I have issues, I posted Chapter 3 of A Few Words Too Many

Precipice – Maxie/Georgie fic about grieving. Written before Georgie was killed in 2007.
Worth – Diego prison ficlet posted long before the fucker killed my beloved Georgie.
Two Strikes – Patrick/Elizabeth friendship fic in which she reveals her pregnancy woes.
Bad Taste – Jason/Elizabeth fic in which Elizabeth learns the sad truth about the man who fathered her child. Um, this is not a happy story. You should probably read at your own risk.

Timeline

In 2004, they introduced Diego as a foster son for Courtney (listen — don’t ask) who was later revealed to be the son of Lorenzo Alcazar. Diego floated around a little bit for a year before going to jail in the fall of 2005 for stalking Brooke Lynn Ashton. When his crimes were originally discovered, he kidnapped Georgie and went on the run with her, explaining he’d done it as revenge for Brooke and the others accidentally leading Diego’s cousin, Sage, to her death. (The cousin he didn’t know but sure). Anyway, the performers had a pretty decent level of chemistry, so I was mildly interested.

This short is set during the six months he spent in jail.

Inspiration

In 2006, before Diego returned to the show, I posted a challenge on LiveJournal (isn’t that adorable?)

to write a short piece from the POV of a character you either hate or just find completely worthless in order to get inside their head and think about their motivations. I picked Diego Alcazar, and had him thinking about Georgie while he was in prison.

Of course, a year later, Diego killed Georgie, which always seemed to be a goddamn cop out. So this story fell off my radar, ended up in my LiveJournal archives, almost completely forgotten until I was organizing things in 2004.

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He dreams about her.

He closes his eyes and blocks out the sounds of the inmates at night. He forces out the grunts, the groans–he forgets about the smell of urine that seems spill out of every crack and corner of the cell block. He puts all of that out of his mind for a few brief visions of what it could be like if things were different.

If he’d chosen to follow a different path, if he’d chosen a different life, could he have been worthy of her? Could he have been the one she’d turned to instead of that spoiled rich boy? If he had grown up with her, known her from the beginning, could she have loved him instead?

He doesn’t think about her in the waking hours–it is a conscious decision. Thoughts of her beauty, of her spirit and her generosity don’t belong in this world, in this place and he wouldn’t soil the things he loves best about her by thinking about her when he’s surrounded by violent and disgusting men–men who make his crimes look ordinary and dull.  To think about her while he is in the gym or in the cafeteria or even just playing cards with some of the inmates…it is wrong.

He is playing cards one day and thinking about what he could buy her with the money he wins. A smile crosses his face and one of the inmates crudely asks for details. It is his first and only fight. His knuckles are sore and his nose is broken, but he defended her honor and it makes it all right. He stops thinking about her when he is awake.

But at night, he closes his eyes and sees her smile and pretends it’s for him. He begins to plan in great detail how he will prove himself worthy of her love, how he will earn it. He will make enough money so he can offer the same world her boyfriend can. He will treat her with respect and trust. He will shower flowers and gifts and dress her in silks and satins. He will never make her regret her choice in gifting him with her love and her devotion.

He will make her love him and maybe she can save him. Maybe the dirt, the taint, the sheen of the streets and the things he has done will fade and all that will be left is someone that she deserves. He wants to be someone she deserves. For now, all he can do is plan.

And dream.

Timeline

This is set vaguely in 2006. It’s written from the POV of Georgie about her sister, Maxie. It’s not particularly tethered to any piece of the GH timeline, other than it taking place after the events of that fall: Maxie’s affair with Lucky and the pregnancy she faked to keep him.

Inspiration

In 2006, I was watching Veronica Mars for the first time, and I was inspired by the grief Veronica felt for Lilly.  Ironically, the show killed Georgie a year later and I have never forgiven Guza for the trauma.

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She remembered thinking that the day should have started differently, started with some sort of bang or explosion instead of her alarm clock bursting into song at 7:30 A.M. and she should have been doing something major, something significant when she was told instead of standing behind the counter at Kelly’s, refilling salt canisters and glaring at the back of her soon-to-be ex-husband’s head.

The bell chimed above the door, the double doors swung open and her father stood there. And she knew something awful had happened. Something that put that look onto his face.

And then he spoke and the world stopped.

Life went on afterwards. People went on. They went back to their lives, they kept living, loving, laughing, crying and after a week, after two, it had stopped being the front page news story and it wasn’t mentioned on the evening news.

But she was stuck in that moment, watching over and over again as her strong, wonderful and loving father walked into the diner and told her that her sister had been murdered. That her sister, her other half, her best friend, the bane of her existence and the one person that drove her more insane than anyone else wasn’t living anymore. She was dead, she was gone, she’d been stolen and she was never coming back.

The world kept turning, kept revolving. The sun kept rising and setting and the moon still hung the same way in the sky. But the landscape had changed and it was all wrong and there was something missing.

It wasn’t fair, she kept telling herself. And for a while, she also told herself it wasn’t true. It could never happen, not after losing Jesse. It wasn’t supposed to happen twice in a year, twice in a lifetime.

Her mother stopped. She slept more than she woke, she didn’t eat unless someone put something in front of her. Her father kept working, because that was what he did best. He worked. He worked and he worked and then he worked some more and finally when he passed out, it was on the couch in his office rather than their home. But then he’d wake up and work some more.

She couldn’t understand why people were smiling and how someone could laugh. Couldn’t they feel it? Couldn’t they understand that it was all wrong now? That a piece was missing and now the puzzle would never fit back together?

It was her sister that had been murdered, killed by some stranger on the campus one night before she could return to her dorm. Just stabbed over a twenty dollar bill in her pocket that she’d refused to give up. Twenty dollars and now her sister was gone.

She’d sat through the viewing, watched these people cry, these people who didn’t know her sister, could never know, never understand her, never really value her the way she deserved to be.

No one had ever understood Maxie but she had. Georgie had always understood her sister and always found a way to fix her messes, to keep her safe, to keep her sane and to keep her breathing. She’d understood that her sister didn’t know how to be unselfish and never fully realized that there were other people in the world and that their wants and needs mattered just as much as hers.

Maxie had been selfish, Maxie had been beautiful. Maxie had been a bitch, but she’d been loyal. Maxie was her best friend and Maxie was her worst enemy.

She’d been her sister and that was all Georgie could ever say when people, when her friends, those well meaning people kept asking how she was and if she needed anything and if there was anything they could do.

She couldn’t understand why they kept asking questions they knew the answer to. No, she was not fine. And she needed her sister so unless they could fix that and bring her back, then no, there was nothing they could do. So could they please just shut the hell up and leave her alone?

She imagined her mother would be worried about her if her mother were coherent, if she were able to see past her own grief, her own pain and her father was still searching for Maxie’s killer, so he didn’t even see her anymore.

And then someone had wondered (not to her, but she’d overheard it) how Georgie could miss Maxie, when she’d been nothing but a home wrecking slut with a viperous tongue and had been well on her way to killing herself with alcohol? How could she miss and mourn and grieve for a sister who’d been killing herself anyway?

Because Maxie was hers, the one person in all the world that was hers and no one else’s just like Georgie had been Maxie’s. Because they were family and you never turned your back on family, you never said oh, well, too much drama, I think I’ll find another friend. You were never on your own as long as you had your family. And Georgie had never been alone, never on her own.

But Maxie was gone now and she wasn’t sure if this was going to be the way her life would be forever. If it would always be this sinking sea of black darkness with no light, no break in the waves, no sunlight hitting the surface–just an endless abyss and her, always standing on the precipice, always thinking about going under but never going through with it because knew if she did, she’d see her sister on the other side.

And boy, would Maxie be mad at her for throwing it away.

So she pretended and she lived, and she breathed and she woke in the morning and went back to sleep at night and mostly, she remembered to eat and she went to class and sometimes she even pictured Maxie standing at her side, telling her to live them for both and telling her to laugh, and smile and love but Georgie always ignored that and put it out of her head. Because there was no reason to do any of those things now.

She had no reason to live, but no reason to die and she figured there should always be something in between but she wasn’t sure what that was yet. She wanted to find it one day but then again, what if she found it was nothing at all? So maybe she wouldn’t worry about it.

She’d keep breathing because Maxie would want that. She’d keep living and pretending. And maybe one day, the clouds would clear and there be some sort of epiphany and she’d understand that there was indeed a reason for everything.

But she was beginning to think there wasn’t and that the real mystery of the human soul was why everyone kept breathing when there wasn’t any point.

Timeline

This is set in the fall of 2006, but assumes that the paternity question was cleared up.

Inspiration

In 2006, there was a rumor that in order to ensure Alexis retain custody of Molly, Sam was going to accuse Ric of rape, and Jason was going to corroborate it. Thank the Lord Baby Jesus, this never happened, but I was kind of pissed so I wrote a response.  It received some good responses (pointing out that Ric really was a rapist in many respects) and also calls for continuing. Even if I wanted to continue it, I wouldn’t know what to write, so here ya go.

People have asked for a sequel, and honestly, if I were to write something along these lines — it wouldn’t be a direct sequel but a revisit on the rumor.

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Jason Morgan rarely went to the Port Charles Police Department voluntarily and doing so almost always left a bad taste in his mouth, but for some reason, confirming that Sam had come to him the day after the blackout, informing him that she’d been raped by her mother’s husband…for some reason, this visit felt worse.

He stepped up to his penthouse door and frowned when he realized that Milo Giambetti was standing in front of the door. He had assigned Milo to Elizabeth after the paternity of their child had finally been straightened out and as far as he knew, Elizabeth had a shift at the hospital until eleven that night.

“Is she okay?” Jason questioned.

Milo coughed. “Ah, she was at the hospital when DA Lansing was arrested. She wanted to come straight here.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “She was upset.”

Jason sighed and pushed open his door to find the mother of his child standing across the room, staring out the balcony window. Her arms were tightly crossed and she was turned slightly to the side. “Elizabeth, is everything all right?”

She turned, her hair sliding over her shoulder. Most mornings she was too tired to do anything more than towel dry and brush it out. This second pregnancy had sucked most of her energy and some days it was all she could do to work a single shift when she’d used to regularly pull doubles without blinking an eye. She stared at Jason for a long moment before turning back to the window. “The night we slept together, the night that we conceived our child, you told me that Ric and Sam had slept together, that you had seen them together.”

Jason set his keys and wallet on the table and slowly nodded. “That’s true.”

“Today, I was at the nurse’s station going over Alexis’s chemo schedule with Ric when Detective Rodriguez arrested him for raping Sam McCall on that same night,” Elizabeth said, her voice flat and emotionless. “The night that you saw them and walked away. So I’m confused.” She finally turned to face him and he was startled by the anger in her expression. “If Sam was being raped when you saw her, how could you walk away?”

He should have seen this coming, should have warned Elizabeth about Sam’s plan to secure custody of Molly. But he hadn’t and now he was going to have to find a way to fix this. “Sam wants to get Molly away from Ric–”

“So, she’s lying now?” Elizabeth demanded. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

Jason exhaled slowly. “Yes,” he admitted.

Elizabeth nodded. “Milo told me that you were at the PCPD. And when I called Nikolas to ask about Alexis, he told me that she was also at the station. Apparently, Sam fed the rape story to Nikolas as the truth and he encouraged her to come forward before it was too late to do anything to him. That he would make sure that his cousin got her day in court if that’s what she wanted.” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you know why Nikolas told her that? Because he was with me when we found out that Tom Baker would never be prosecuted for raping me.”

Jason winced. “It’s not like that–”

“It was sickening enough when Sam was blaming the entire night on Ric, claiming that he got her drunk and took advantage of her,” Elizabeth continued ruthlessly, “but I find it disgusting and repugnant that she would lie and say she was raped.” Her voice broke and she pressed a hand to her chest. “Emily and I both went through that kind of terror, and we were both violated in the worst way–”

“Elizabeth, this isn’t like that–”

“When a woman is raped, their life is torn away from them,” Elizabeth continued over him, her watering gaze burning into his. “It’s ripped away, crumpled up and thrown back at them. They’re never the same afterwards. They never look at people the same way, they never think or feel the same. Every man becomes that monster and it never goes away.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing back her shoulders as if finding the courage to keep speaking. “I have nightmares, you know. Emily, she has nightmares. Not often and there doesn’t always have to a reason for them, but every once in a while, Tom Baker visits me in my dreams. He throws me to the ground, he rips my clothes off and he forces himself inside me,” her breathing now ragged, her eyes opened slowly and Jason wished that he’d never gone along with this scheme.

“It’s an insult for any woman to claim rape when it isn’t true, but Sam knew what Emily went through. She had a front row seat for that and for her to use rape as an excuse to…what?” Elizabeth demanded. “Get revenge? For Alexis to get custody? It’s disgusting and I thought Sam was better than that. She’s nothing but trash and if you were down there backing her story up, you’re just as disgusting.”

She jerked her coat and slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “I’m leaving Milo here. I don’t want you to speak to me and I don’t want you to come near me. I want nothing to do with you–”

Jason caught her arm as Elizabeth passed by him but she wrenched away. “I could accept your job because I knew, at the core, you were a good man. And the life you lead isn’t really so awful because the only people who usually get hurt are the ones who choose to lead it. But I was wrong. I don’t want you anywhere near my children–”

Jason swallowed hard. “I’ll fight for my child, Elizabeth–”

“And you’ll lose,” she said softly. “Because I know enough to bury you. And you know that.” She hesitated. “Ric is a great many things, most of them bad. But he didn’t deserve to be called a rapist when the only mistake he made was sleeping with Sam. You disgust me.”

She walked away, jerked open the door and slammed it shut behind him.

The bad taste in his mouth had somehow magnified and all he felt was hollow inside.

Timeline

This is set in September of 2006, when Elizabeth was worried about the possible paternity of her second child, and she and Patrick were just starting to explore being friends. Patrick and Robin had only really just decided to pursue a serious relationship.

Inspiration

I’m sorry, have you seen Patrick’s dimples?

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September 10, 2006

Metro Court Hotel: Patrick Drake’s Room

Usually, Patrick was happy to see a beautiful woman at his door. In fact, it was only a year ago that he might have thought about charming said beautiful woman into coming in, staying a while–spending some quality time together.

But things were different now and even if he had a shot with this woman (he liked to think he had a shot with all women but this one might be an exception, she usually was) he was pretty sure the concept of a committed relationship meant that charming and seducing her was against the rules.

So instead he ushered Elizabeth Spencer into his hotel room and wondered why the upstanding married woman would be visiting him long after dark.

“I’m sorry to come over like this–” she hesitated, her big blue eyes scanning the room nervously. “I didn’t interrupt anything did I? I mean, I didn’t think–”

Rambling was usually the first and most obvious sign that she was troubled about something. So he took her by the shoulders and directed to her the sofa. “Sit.”

Elizabeth did as instructed, another sign that something was wrong since Elizabeth Spencer never did what she was told the first time. Or the first five times. Somewhat troubled himself now, he started to cross to the mini bar. “You want a drink?”

“I can’t,” Elizabeth said miserably. “I’m pregnant.”

Patrick bobbled the bottle of brandy and nearly dropped it. He set it down with a clink and turned to face her. “Well.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was just glad it was not another brunette sitting in front of him, telling him this and looking at him like he was supposed to fix it. He was just adjusting to the idea of monogamy, after all. “Well, I suppose I’ll have that drink after all.” He poured the liquor into a small glass and tossed back the whole thing. “I guess it’s a rocky time to be having a kid, with Lucky going through withdrawl but maybe it’ll help him focus, you know.” There, that sounded mature. Robin would be proud.

“Yes, that would be true,” Elizabeth sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “Except it’s probably not his.”

Another drink was clearly in order. Patrick poured another brandy. “I’m not going to ask,” he muttered to himself. “I’m not going to ask.”

“And I never would have said anything to you except you’re the only person that’s not connected to anyone,” Elizabeth continued. “Emily and Nikolas–they’re too close. My grandmother would never understand. And Jason–” she closed her eyes. “Well. I’m not ready to tell him yet.”

“Oh, good God…” The glass clinked heavily against the bar and he turned to look at her. “You’re not–he’s not–” This is why he didn’t have friends, Patrick reminded himself. Because inevitably they told you things that you really didn’t want to hear. He swallowed hard. “How do you know it’s not Lucky’s?”

“Because Lucky and I were together only once about six weeks ago,” Elizabeth admitted. “And we used condoms. And Jason and I–” she flushed and pulled at her lip some more. “We spent the night together, but, ah, it was more than–I mean to say–”

Patrick held up a hand and closed his eyes. “Please, if you ever cared about me, you’ll stop there.” He hesitated. “What are you going to do?”

Elizabeth huffed and stood, crossing to the large windows that looked over the harbor. “I wish I knew. That’s why I came to you–” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “What do you think I should do?”

“Well, that depends–am I the junkie or the criminal?” Patrick replied. He winced. “Not that I’m insulting your taste in men, so to speak. I’m only saying that–” He paused. “Well I don’t know what the hell I’m saying, Elizabeth. I’m the most self-absorbed person in the world, why would you ask me for advice?”

“Please,” Elizabeth snorted. “I’ve seen you with Robin. You’re only self-absorbed when you don’t care about the person you’re talking about.” She eyed him. “Unless I was wrong and we’re not friends–”

“No,” Patrick sighed, resigned to the fact that he was now part of this. “Look, who are you afraid to tell? Is it Lucky or Jason? Because if you’re afraid to tell Jason, then don’t–”

“No, no–” Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m not afraid to tell him. It’s just…I guess it looked like he was finally getting things together with Sam. And I think that this would–it would ruin things.” She pursed her lips. “It’s just–this last month, getting Lucky through the first stages of withdrawl and then–” she blinked. “I’ve been with him every step of the way, for the meetings, for the cold sweats and the more time I try to spend getting him through that…the more I–” She glanced back at him. “Do you think love can be killed?”

Patrick scrubbed his hand through his dark hair and wished like hell he’d sprang for that third drink. “I don’t think it can be killed, no. But I think it can be changed. I don’t think you stop loving someone, but maybe it gets changed into hate or pity or something, and I think it can happen in an instant or in a lifetime.”

“For someone who’s so self-absorbed, that was pretty deep.” Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I think that the moment I walked in on Lucky with Maxie Jones that my love for him either disappeared or it changed into hate, or maybe a mixture of pity and hate. I’m not sure. All I know is there used to be this warmth, this piece of me–” she pressed a fist to her chest, “–and that no matter what happened, no matter how we fought or the things he said to me, it was always there. But I opened that door and that part of me…it just froze.” She met his eyes. “And I realized that I’m not in love with my husband. Not for he is today, or even who he was a year ago when we got married. But I’m still in love with that sweet boy I knew a lifetime ago. The one that died in a fire and never came back.”

“So why did you stay with him after that?” Patrick asked after a long moment of silence.

“Because I promised for better or worse and for a while I thought it was just the worst part.” She shook her head. “But now I have to face facts. I’m pregnant with another man’s child, a man I care for and respect. And I have to find a way to tell my husband that our marriage is over without sending him back to drugs.” She glanced at the mini bar somewhat longingly. “I could go for a drink right now.”

“I wish that I could tell you what to do,” Patrick told her. “But I really don’t think there’s any way out of this situation that doesn’t suck. So I mean, if I were Jason–and I thank God I’m not–I’d want to be told immediately. I think that he’ll be able to suggest something better. I mean, he’s known you and Lucky longer, right?”

“Right.” Elizabeth reached for her purse which she’d dropped on the sofa. “I’m not even sure Jason is the father. I’m going to have to get a paternity test.” She wrinkled her nose. “I should just put in my application for Jerry Springer now.”

“I think Sonny Corinthos with the impregnation of a mother and a daughter is first in line,” Patrick said dryly. “Look, I can get the test done for you so that no one ever has to know it was performed, okay?”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” She hesitated. “Thanks for listening–you’re a good friend, Patrick.”

“Don’t let that get out,” he told her, pulling open the door. “The other nurses will beat a path to my door and then Robin will kick my ass.”

“Only if you let those nurses in,” Elizabeth warned him. “Don’t be an idiot. Though you’re a man, you’ve already got two strikes against you.”

“Perverse creature,” Patrick muttered as the brunette headed towards the elevators.