Written in 54 minutes. This was a good stopping point.

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Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

Max had left the door open when he’d rushed across the hall. Jason reached the other penthouse before Courtney to find Sonny staring blankly at the remains of shattered glass and brown liquor on the hardwood floor, and Carly crying, one hand over her mouth to muffle the sobs, and the other wrapped protectively over her belly, now eight months gone.

It wasn’t the first time since Carly’s return that Jason come over in the aftermath of a vicious, angry argument, and it wouldn’t be a last. He knew his part in this charade, and so did Courtney. Sonny’s sister went straight to Carly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, murmuring soothing words.

Jason went to Sonny, took him by the arm, alarmed by how docilely the older man acted as he was led towards the fireplace, widening the gap between husband and wife.

“M-Michael—he’s upstairs—but I know he heard—I know—” Carly’s hitched words. “He just—he won’t believe me—he doesn’t believe me—”

“Let’s get some water, okay? Let’s get something to drink,” Courtney suggested, stroking Carly’s back. She guided her sister-in-law in the direction of the kitchen, disappearing around the corner.

Jason got Sonny to sit on the sofa, then went to Max standing in the doorway, his hands hanging limply at his side. “No one else was up here today?” he asked, his voice low. “None of the other guards?”

“N-no, just me. I’m supposed to be off in twenty, but—” he swallowed hard. “I’ll call. Tell Diego I’m pulling a double.”

“Good. Good. Take care of that.” Jason rubbed his thumb against his brow. Sonny’s erratic behavior was bad enough on a personal level, but if it were just that then maybe Jason wouldn’t feel like he had to be involved.

But not all of the guards had been with them for years — and not all could be trusted with the uncomfortable truth about Sonny’s dark moods and breakdowns. Max could, and Jason would have to make sure the guard was compensated for the extra time and effort.

If the wrong people knew how unstable Sonny could get — how easy it would be to exploit that vulnerability, it would be all out war. Violence would escalate and people would get hurt. Jason would do anything he had to do to prevent that, to preserve the peace.

He’d chosen this life and it was too late to turn back. All he could do now was keep it steady and predictable. Which meant protecting Sonny.

He closed the door, then went back to Sonny. He sat on the coffee table in front of him. “Sonny—”

“I didn’t mean to—” Sonny’s dark eyes darted away. “I wasn’t going to say anything to day. We talked about it. We talked and I believe you. I believe you that Carly—I know she’d never do anything. I know—I know that it’s good that she was treated well after all—” He swallowed hard, and his voice shook. “But I thought I saw Lily on the balcony—”

Jason looked Sonny at the closed balcony doors, at the setting sun in the background, then back at Sonny. “It was a trick of a light. Your imagination,” he told his friend carefully. “You know that.”

“I do. She died. My son. She and my son died because I couldn’t protect her—” Sonny dragged a hand over his mouth. “Couldn’t protect her, just like Carly. Alcazar. He got her out of that panic room, and she was happy there—”

“No,” Jason said, his voice sharp because that was how it always started. “Not happy. Relieved to have sunlight and real food. The ability to walk around. She was locked in a small, cramped panic room for three weeks, Sonny. Anything after that would feel like a paradise.”

“I know, I know. I just can’t remember that—”

“You will. We’ll talk about it as much as you need to. You and me, Sonny. But Carly’s been through so much. Kidnapped in front of her son, trapped in a panic room, threatened with death, kidnapped again — she needs rest and relaxation. She’s going to have a baby. Your son. Her health comes first.”

“Right. Right.” Sonny dipped his head. “My son. Our son. We have to save him this time. Can’t lose another one. Wouldn’t—” He curled his hand in a fist, unfurled it, then formed it again. “Wouldn’t survive it again,” he muttered.

“I know that,” Jason said. “Why don’t you lie down? You’ll feel better in the morning.” He always did — it was the twilight hours, the darkness of night that always set Sonny off. He’d be better off living somewhere where the night was short, and the days long.

But for now, getting him to bed and finding the sedatives that always seemed to calm him would have to be enough.

Jason settled Sonny in his room, made sure he slipped the pills into the water he gave Sonny. Watched him drink it. When Jason was sure, he left and went down the hallway to Michael’s bedroom.

The bed was against one wall, and he found Michael curled up in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, his little head buried against his thighs. “Hey, buddy,” Jason said, closing the door and heading over to the bed.

Michael’s head popped up, and relief spread across his little face. “Uncle Jason!” He launched himself into Jason’s arms, and he held on tight. “They were screaming and yelling and Mommy cried, then something broke, and I got scared so I stayed in here just like you told me to—”

Jason rubbed his back, letting the little boy ramble out all his worries in a stream of conscious. “You did good, Michael. I’m sorry you were scared. I’m trying really hard to stop that it from happening again.”

“I knew you’d come and you’d fix everything.” Michael sniffled. “You always do. You found Mommy and you brought her home. She’s so sad all the time, Uncle Jason. Can’t you fix that?”

“I’m trying.” Jason stood and Michael wrapped his legs around Jason’s waist, and he walked him around the room, hoping the movement would soothe him,  almost the way he’d done when he was just a baby. This room had been Michael’s nursery when he’d been Jason’s…responsibility. His mind skittered away from the reminder that this boy had been his son. He knew that wasn’t true — but it was hard to stop loving him that way. To stop wishing he could wrap Michael in cotton so that the world would stop hurting him.

“I love you, Uncle Jason. Can I come live with you?”

Jason sighed, then sat back on the bed, Michael still in his lap. “We talked about this,” he told Michael. “You live here with your mom and your dad. I’m across the hall and I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“You went away for a while,” Michael said with a sniffle. “I ‘member you coming home and Mommy was so happy. We were all happy.”

“I know.”

“I just wanna be happy again.”

“I’m working on it. I promise.”

“I know. You never break your promises. You always keep them. So I know you’ll make this all okay.”

“It’s almost eight,” Jason said, and Michael made a face. “Isn’t that bedtime?”

“I don’t want it to be,” the child said glumly, but he half-crawled, half-scooted towards the headboard and slid under his brightly covered comforter. “Will you read to me?”

“Sure. Whatever you want.” Jason reached for the book on the nightstand. “Where am I starting? What chapter?”

Michael laid down. “We finished three. With all the letters, remember?”

“I do now.” Jason flipped to the right page and began to read. “BOOM. They knocked again…”

He only made it a few pages into the chapter before Michael’s eyes closed, and Jason carefully closed it, marking his page and setting it on the table. He didn’t read to Michael every night—it was usually Carly—but lately, it felt like he was here more often than not. And that wasn’t a good thing, he knew. It wasn’t healthy for him to still be protecting and loving Michael the same as a father would.

But Michael didn’t deserve the world he was living in, so Jason had to step in. To make sure that whatever Sonny and Carly were dealing with didn’t ripple out and hurt Michael.

Because no matter how wrong, no matter how unhealthy, Michael would always be a little bit his.

He switched on Michael’s night light, then flipped the switch on the larger light by the door. He headed for the stairs, and found Courtney over by the minibar with a broom and dust pan in her hand.

“Let me do that,” he told her, hurrying forward. “There’s glass—”

“I can do it,” Courtney said, but there was no heat in her voice, just exhaustion. “I cleaned up worse at Kelly’s. Carly went upstairs about five minutes ago. Guest room,” she added. “She’s not up to talking about what happened. Just cried and cried—” She dumped the tray filled with glass shards into a trash can. “He’s making her feel guilty for not fighting Alcazar harder. For wearing the clothes he gave her, eating the food, walking around his house without shackles—”

“I know.” Jason folded his arms, leaned against the sofa. “He always seems to understand when we talk about it, but—”

“He forgets when they’re alone. It’s awful, you know, what’s going on. It’s like—” Courtney made a face. “He’s my brother, and I love him because I want to love him. But sometimes I don’t know if I really do. If it’s just a choice I’ve made because I don’t have any other family.” She swept the last few pieces into the dust pan. “How’s Michael?”

“Upset. Just like always. I calmed him down, read to him. Sonny took a sedative, so they’ll be good until morning.”

She nodded. “Until it starts again tomorrow. Or the day after.” She looks at him. “What’s the end game, Jason? Do we keep cleaning up after them? Patching them up until the next time? Because there’s always a next time. I’m so tired, and it’s only been a few months. I know you’ve been doing it for years.”

“It wasn’t always this bad. It’s never been this bad, actually,” Jason said. “I don’t know what they were like when I didn’t live here. It’s…” He squinted. “It’s the baby, I think. They lost the first one, and Sonny — I think the kidnapping brought back what happened to Lily.”

“Another pregnant wife he couldn’t protect. I get it, and I’m sympathetic but—Carly’s my best friend. I don’t know how—” Courtney said with a half smile. “But she is, and this is killing her. She’s been through enough.”

“I know.”

When she’d finished cleaning up the remains of the bourbon bottle, Jason disposed of the glass in the trash can and they headed across the hall. He closed the door behind him, and flipped the deadbolts.

He turned and found her looking at him. And it came rushing back — the argument they’d been having before Max’s call. The night before. The conversation at Elizabeth’s studio.  And now that the storm had passed—

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you,” Courtney said finally. “I don’t know why I should have to argue for myself — I’ve been here for almost a year. Ten months since that night at my apartment.” Her eyes searched his. “I know you and Elizabeth have a history. Maybe it’s worse because you never really got started, and you’ll always wonder what if. I—I do get that. Sometimes I think about AJ, you know? What if I’d forgiven him? What if he hadn’t been so scared I’d leave him that he tried to trick me into staying—” She looked away. “I understand about the what ifs and the way your mind plays tricks on you.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Jason said. “Or lie to you. But—”

“You lied when you said you weren’t in love with her. I knew it when you said. I don’t know if you did.” She met his eyes. “We have a life, Jason. We have a family. You and me. Sonny and Carly, and Michael. This new baby. We’re a family, and we were happy before this summer. Weren’t we? Did I imagine that?”

“No. No.” He stepped towards her. “You didn’t. But—”

“But you have a history with Elizabeth. We have one now, too. I’m not asking you to…I’m not asking you to forget that,” Courtney said. “I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair. I’m just asking you not to throw away everything we have. We work, you and me. We’ve been working for months and months. I don’t understand why that doesn’t get to count. You and Elizabeth — did that ever work for more than a few moments? A few days?”

“No,” Jason said, then looked away. “No,” he repeated. Elizabeth had said as much, hadn’t she? When it was just them — it was magic. But that wasn’t real life. And maybe it hurt more because they’d both held on to a dream that had already ended. Maybe she was right. Maybe they were meant to hold on it. Was love supposed to be that painful, that difficult?

He did have a life with Courtney, and it did work. They’d been happy. He loved her. He’d asked her to marry him, to share a life. And maybe she was right. Maybe he’d drifted back towards Elizabeth because everything had been so chaotic in the wake of Carly’s rescue. Maybe he’d wanted that quiet peace that he only ever found with Elizabeth, sitting in a room with her, and listening to her talk.

But maybe she was an escape he wasn’t supposed to need anymore. Hadn’t she said that once to him? With Lucky home, she shouldn’t have needed an escape. He hadn’t really understood what she’d meant then. But now—looking at Courtney, he almost did.

“You’re really quiet. Are you thinking—” she folded her arms. “You’re thinking of ways to explain to me why you’re leaving.”

“No,” Jason said, softly. He came forward, took her in his arms. “No, I’m not. I did what I did, and I’m sorry it hurt you. It wasn’t about having children. There are other ways to make that happen. You’re right. We have a history, too. And you don’t deserve for me to throw it away like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter.”

Her lips trembled, parted as if she wanted to say something, then she closed them. “So you’re—you’re not leaving me for her.”

“No. I’m not.” But even as he spoke the words, even as he saw the smile on her face, they felt wrong. They weren’t — it was the right choice, he knew that. He and Courtney had a relationship that worked, and he loved her enough to try to make this work.

It was just — he knew he loved Elizabeth, too. But when he’d opened his mouth to tell Courtney that he wanted to be with Elizabeth, he couldn’t say the words. Because what if it always ended the way it did with Elizabeth — with her walking away?

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jason said, and her smile was a little more genuine, but instead of making him feel better — he just felt worse.

Was this how Elizabeth felt every time she’d walked away and went back to Lucky? Was he making the same mistake she had? Staying because he thought he should and not because he wanted to?

He thought maybe he was, and for the first time, he understood that some mistakes needed to be made. And he was making this one—for better or for worse.

 

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don’t hate me <3 i love you. we’re going on a journey my lovelys. trust the process. 

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