Jake’s
This ain't a song for the broken-hearted
No silent prayer for the faith-departed
I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd
You're gonna hear my voice
When I shout it out loud
Gia stood a moment in the doorway, letting her eyes adjust the dimness and her ears to the song blasting from the jukebox in the corner. For a moment, she almost turned and left; there was a part of her that wanted to go running back to Nik, saying ‘I was wrong; take me back’. She shook her head impatiently at the thought and squared her shoulders, breathing in the cigarette smoke wafting through the air without flinching. Gia Campbell wasn’t gonna back down for any self-righteous, judgmental jerk of a Prince. She was better than that; she was worth more than that. And, damnit, she wasn’t wrong -- he was!
She tossed her hair back behind her shoulders and strode over to the bar. Tapping perfectly manicured fingernails against the not-so-polished wood, Gia gestured impatiently at the bartender. “Beer,” she said, briefly, looking at him levelly.
He looked her up and down a moment, then shrugged, pulling out a bottle and sliding it to her with a cold glass from beneath the bar. It was a sense you got, after doin’ this a while. This one might be underage, but if so, not by much. And, while she might be looking for trouble, he eyed her up and down appreciatively, she wasn’t here to cause any.
Gia took the bottle, ignoring the glass, and turned around on the barstool, leaning back on one elbow to survey the room. She took a long draught, then made a face and put the beer aside. An unfortunate side-effect of living with Nikolas -- after imported sherry, Bud Light just didn’t cut it anymore. Didn’t matter; she wasn’t here to get drunk. Just to -- let loose. To let go. To lose the woman he made her feel like she was. To find the woman she knew she was. She began to tap her booted foot lightly to the beat of the music, unaware of the appreciative glances from the room as the thin white men’s t-shirt she was wearing stretched across tawny skin. Gia scanned the room, then slid off the stool as her eyes lit on something across the room. She snagged the bottle off the counter as she went; the mood she was in, it might come in handy sooner or later.
It's my life
And it's now or never
'Cause I ain't gonna live forever
I just want to live while I'm alive
Gia threaded her way through the crowd, heading towards the thing she’d seen in the back of the room. She bypassed the two pool tables crowded with players and headed for the furthest one, the one she’d noticed had only one player. Nothing in this world was gonna make her feel better than beating some guy’s ass at pool. Sliding up behind the guy as he lined up his shot, Gia tapped him on the shoulder. “Is this an open game?” she purred, waiting expectantly for him to turn around.
He ignored her, leaning forward, adjusting his cue, and tapped just so, sending the eight ball sliding smoothly across the table and ending the game. He straightened without turning around. “It is now,” Jason said, turning around and handing the cue stick to her. One eyebrow lifted as he registered the identity of the woman standing behind him.
“Oh,” Gia’s returned his questioning stare. “Hey,” she said, slightly awkward in the way two people who know of each other but don’t really know each other are. She ran her hand through her hair, flipping it back over her shoulder; she didn’t want this; she wanted anonymity, hard as that might be to find for her, tonight. “Look, um, forget it. I’ll find another table to play at.”
Jason looked back at her, his face opaque, and shrugged. “They’re all taken. You want to play, go ahead.” He leaned against the table, folding his arms across his chest, making no move to leave.
“Fine,” Gia snapped back, responding to the unspoken challenge. She waited while he racked then stepped back, inclining his head towards the table with a slight smile Gia could only call smug. Her blood began to boil; the last thing she needed was another insufferable asshole who thought he was better than the world. Gia glared in his direction then she slid the cue expertly through her hands, took a step forward, lined up her shot mentally, and...
...less than fifteen minutes later stepped away from the pool table, her own smile flashing triumphantly across her face. She grabbed her discarded bottle and took a long swig, the taste suddenly no where near repugnant. Turning to Jason, she handed him back the pool cue with a smirk. “Sorry you didn’t have a chance to play,” she said, falsely. “Maybe next time.” She turned to go, only to be stopped as he called her name.
“Hey Gia,” Jason called, and she turned around as he unfolded his arms, and reached up, getting a second cue from the rack on the wall. He held it out to her. “How about right now?”
My heart is like an open highway
Like Frankie said
I did it my way
I just want to live while I'm alive
Gia’s eyes narrowed, but she reached out her hand for the cue stick. She sauntered slowly back to the table, aware of his eyes raking her up and down. “So you do know who I am,” she stated, looking up at him. “I was beginning to wonder.”
“Yeah,” Jason began gathering the balls, his cold blue eyes never leaving Gia’s. “You’re the girl who blackmailed my sister.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am,” she said, her tone as unapologetic as his eyes on her body. “At least you didn’t say you’re the girl on the billboard.” Gia perched on the edge of the table, watching him with equally frank appreciation as he leaned across the pool table.
Jason looked up at her. “You don’t like being the girl on the billboard?” he asked, disbelief in his tone.
Gia smiled slowly. “I love being the girl on the billboard,” she said, her voice smooth as cream. “In fact, she’s all I wanna be tonight. Think you could help me with that?” she asked, reaching out to take the second beer the waitress had brought over, aware she was venturing into dangerous territory and not giving a damn.
Jason Morgan watched her, waiting almost a beat too long before answering, letting his eyes trace her frame from the tips of her black boots to her blacker eyes. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything as simple as desire; he welcomed it; he relished it. Tonight, he was gonna go with it. Finally, he nodded at the table. “Your shot,” he said, something that was almost a smile turning up one corner of his mouth.
Gia smiled, slid down from the table, and took the shot.
’Cause it’s my life!*
Carly’s place
Carly leaned forward to talk to the driver through the partition. “Thanks Charlie; I’ll see you tomorrow morning, eight-thirty. Have a good night.” She smiled at her regular driver as she got out of the car, waving slightly. As she turned and saw the dark blue sedan idling in her driveway, her smile faded. Her eyes narrowed, and she could feel her heart start to thump as she peered into the car, her body tensed to run, if need be. A moment later, Carly relaxed though her smile didn’t return. She half-lifted a hand towards the man in the car, then turned her back on him, heading into the house.
Her house. Carly couldn’t help the involuntary smile that crept across her lips every time she thought that. It had never been in her game plan, her little cream-colored house with the yard out back. But, then, most of the life she was living now hadn’t been in any kind of game plan she’d ever formulated. She opened the door, automatically kicking her shoes off. “Latecia?” Carly called quietly; it was after Michael’s bedtime.
“In the living room, Carly,” came the equally quiet response.
Carly padded in stocking feet down the hall and into the living room. She smiled as Latecia rose from the couch to greet her and reached out her arms hungrily for her baby daughter. “Hey there, baby girl,” she murmured, nuzzling her daughter’s cheek with her lips as the infant cooed happily, her baby fists waving in delight. “Is Michael asleep?” Carly asked, not looking up, still engrossed in discovering what changes even a few hours away from her daughter had wrought.
Latecia nodded, gathering her purse and her sweater. “He went down about a half-hour ago; I checked on him just a couple of minutes ago, and he was out like a light.” The nanny reached out to caress Ana’s head gently. “Ana’s just starting to get hungry; I haven’t fed her yet because I knew you were on your way home. I figured you’d want to.”
Carly nodded. “Thanks. Latecia,” she lifted her head to meet the other woman’s calm gaze, “Johnny’s waiting for you outside. You should tell him he can come in, next time,” she said, levelly. Carly attempted a small smile. “I’m not gonna yell at him, I promise.”
The other woman flushed, slightly. She looked up at her employer. “He just didn’t want to upset you,” Latecia explained.
“I know,” Carly assured her, reaching out to touch Latecia’s arm lightly. “And, it was sweet just -- unnecessary. I don’t need to be treated like I’m gonna break, okay?”
“Okay,” Latecia responded softly. She slipped her purse over her arm, not bothering with the sweater; it was warm outside tonight. “I’ll tell Johnny. See you tomorrow, Carly.”
Carly nodded, smiling nonchalantly until she heard the door close and the car in the driveway start up and head out. Her smile slipped and her arms tightened around her small daughter, her lips dropping to her baby’s forehead; still holding her daughter tight, Carly hurried to the door after Latecia, making sure it was not only shut but latched tightly.
As the pressure of her mother’s arms increased, Ana let out a small, uncomfortable whimper. Carly immediately loosened her grip and refocused her attention on her baby, adjusting her in her arms. “Mama’s sorry, sweetie,” she whispered, heading slowly back into the living room. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Let’s go sit down, and you can have your dinner, okay?” She pulled the rocking chair towards the window, angling it so that she could see out but no one could see in, and settled down, unbuttoning her blouse. She tilted Ana’s head just so and began to nurse, leaning her own head wearily against the back of the chair, rocking back and forth, back and forth in what was supposed to be a soothing motion.
All alone I didn't like the feeling
All alone I sat and cried
All alone I had to find some meaning
In the center of the pain I felt inside
Carly tilted her head first to one side and then the other, trying to work the kinks out of her neck. After a moment, she gave up; the tension in her shoulders wasn’t work-related, and it wasn’t going away. She knew what had brought it forth: seeing Johnny again. Despite what she’d told Latecia, seeing him was still hard. It always would be.
She didn’t want it to be. It wasn’t like Johnny hadn’t been a good friend to her, for a very long time. Dating way back to when she was living with Jason, Johnny had always been the one of the guards most likely to smile at her, to break his normally stoic demeanor, to joke around with her. That had only continued throughout her marriage to Sonny. And, then, after -- after, it had been Johnny who’d found her this house when she couldn’t make herself sleep in the bed she and her husband had shared. It had been Johnny who’d made it safe for her to move in here, so she didn’t feel like she had to look over her shoulder all the time, waiting for death to catch her and her babies. It had been Johnny, with Jason, who’d wiped out every trace of Sorel’s organization in retaliation. But the thing she couldn’t get over, the thing that made it so she couldn’t bear to look at him was that it had been Johnny who’d been with Sonny, that night. It had been Johnny who’d come to her with her husband’s blood on his hands and told her that Sonny was dead.
All alone I heal this heart of sorrow
All alone I raise this child
Flesh and bone, he's just
Bursting towards tomorrow
And his laughter fills my world and wears your smile
Carly opened her eyes, lifting her hand angrily to brush the single tear off her cheek. This was not what she wanted to do; today had been a good day. She’d spent her morning at Deception, had a late lunch with Bobbie and Scott and her step-sister, and then headed over to the Children’s Wing for the afternoon. She’d been purposely keeping as busy as possible, trying to do what Kevin kept telling her -- letting go of the past. She knew he was right; she had to let go in order to move on. The problem with that, Carly thought as she looked at her child, her fingers twining gently around her daughter’s dark brown curls, was that sometimes the past wouldn’t let go of you.
All alone I came into this world
All alone I will someday die
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby
Sand and water and a million years gone by*
the Gatehouse
AJ slammed the door, taking perverse satisfaction in the thud it made as it slammed home. He let out a noise that was half-sigh, half-growl and flopped down on the couch, ignoring the blinking light on his answering machine. He had absolutely no desire to talk to anyone except the one woman he was sure as hell wouldn’t pick up the phone to call him.
Why??!? Why couldn’t he get Hannah Scott -- Hannah Jacks -- out of his blood? He had tried, God knew he had tried. He had been with other women, he had stayed away from her, he had even gone so far as to leave town, rearrange his life! And, it hadn’t done a damn bit of good. When he closed his eyes, it was her face he saw; when he dreamed at night, it was of her. Hannah was haunting him, and she wasn’t going to stop. Not until she was with him, not until she was his.
AJ sighed again, long and loud. This time, he had thought, he had done everything right. He drew his arm up over his eyes, trying for the millionth time, to figure out where he’d gone wrong. About the time Hannah had broken things off with Taggert, his sister’s ill-advised affair with Zander Smith had blown up in Emily’s face. It had seemed like the perfect plan; go to Arizona for a month with Emily, take the time to get his head back on straight, get to know his baby sister all over again, help her heal, and come back to Port Charles a changed man. Ready to set the world, and Hannah Scott, on fire.
Arizona had been perfect. Healing, nurturing, right. He and Emily had become closer than they’d ever been, as they helped each other through their own dark nights of the soul. And, he’d rediscovered his priorities as booze, once again, became the devil he fought with instead of the devil he welcomed. His sobriety, his son, and Hannah. Coming back to Port Charles, AJ had moved into the Gatehouse to stay near Emily and try to mend fences with his family with those three things the points of a three-fold plan. It should have worked. It would have worked. If only, if only goddamn Jasper Jacks hadn’t come back to town in the month he was away and whisked Hannah off her feet.
A whirlwind romance, everyone had called it. AJ knew better. What Jax and Hannah had wasn’t a romance; it was two wounded people holding onto each other as a quick-fix for everything broken in their lives. Two people desperate for love again, pretending they’d found it in all the wrong people. Take away the smoke and mirrors and the fancy words, and it was, more or less, bullshit. And, it had blown his three-point plan to hell. By the skin of his teeth, and the iron will of his baby sister, he’d managed to hang onto his sobriety. Partially as a result of that, Carly was letting him have his son every other weekend. But, Hannah -- Hannah was out of his grasp. For good, or so it was starting to seem.
A demanding knock at his front door broke into his reverie. AJ scowled at the door, and tossed the pillow from under his head towards it. “Go away!” he demanded, his voice harsh.
The knocking stopped, and AJ sighed in relief. He was about to turn over when it began again. “Mr. Quartermaine?” came the questioning voice. “Mr. AJ Quartermaine? This is Elise Branigan; I’m working with Keisha Ward’s estate?” AJ sat up, hard. What had she just said? He shook his head to clear it, then stood up slowly, almost as if bracing himself for the impact. “I believe you were expecting---” Her words were cut off as the door opened, and AJ came face-to-face with a mousy-haired, rather weary looking young woman. She smiled tentatively at him. “Mr. Quartermaine?” Elise asked again.
AJ’s mouth worked, but he couldn’t seem to make a sound. His eyes were riveted to Elise Branigan and what she held in her arms. A beautiful, big-eyed, cafe-au-lait skin-colored, three year old little girl. His hand lifted to cover his heart, flexing and unflexing. It was all AJ could do to nod, as Elise Branigan said his name again.
This time she looked concerned. “You are AJ Quartermaine, then?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Her hand ran almost mechanically over the child’s hair, as if it were a motion she’d been repeating a lot recently. She held out the little girl towards him as he nodded once again. “Good. Here she is, then.”
AJ looked at the girl, then at Elise. He took a step away. “Wha-- I--” AJ shook his head; was this some parallel universe that had just opened up at his doorway? What the hell was going on here? “What’s going on? I don’t -- who are you? And, did you say Keisha Ward’s estate?” AJ ran his fingers through his hair, his voice rising in both tone and pitch.
Elise stared at him. “Mr. Quartermaine, you don’t -- you don’t know? My office has sent telegrams, made calls.” Her brow furrowed, and she slowly pulled the little girl back in her arms. “We, we thought that you were fully informed. You are AJ Quartermaine? ‘Lysa’s father?” she nodded towards the child.
“...father?” AJ whispered, as she voiced the thing he’d known, somehow, since he’d opened the door and saw this child looking at him with her mother’s eyes in the planes of his face. AJ’s hands lifted to cover his face, and he sank down on the arm of the couch. “Oh my God,” he breathed through his fingers. After a moment, he lifted his head to face the suddenly white-faced woman at his door. “I -- is Keisha...?” He trailed off, reading the truth in her face. He made a motion with his head, half-nodding, half-desperation. “I’ve been out of town for the past week, doing business down in Atlanta. I just got back early this afternoon; I haven’t had a chance to check my messages,” he gestured towards the blinking light on the answering machine.
“I -- don’t know what to say,” Elise looked hesitantly towards the door; this was not part of her usual duties as courier. “This has never happened before; I -- you didn’t even know you had a daughter?” He shook his head, and she took a deep breath. She dug in her bag, and pulled out an envelope which she handed to him. “We were directed to deliver this letter to you along with one Alyssa Jane Ward.” She nodded towards the child. “I imagine that you might find some answers in it.” She slid the duffel bag to the floor. “The rest of Alyssa’s bags are on their way; if you need to contact the office handling Ms. Ward’s affairs, there’s a card in the front pocket of this bag.” She paused, then mentally shrugged. What else could she do? She had been instructed to deliver a child to her father; here was the father. Slowly, she opened her arms, sliding Alyssa down. The child, self-possessed beyond her years, sat down quietly on top of the duffel bag, her thumb comfortingly in her mouth, looking at AJ with big, brown eyes. “Bye-bye, kiddo,” she tousled Alyssa’s hair lightly and turned towards the still open door.
AJ moved like lightening; he grasped her arm before she had taken more than half a step. “Wait a minute,” he said, frantically, more emotions running through his body than he had felt in his whole life. “You can’t just walk into my house, drop a kid off, and leave! That doesn’t -- you can’t do that!”
“Actually,” Elise gently but firmly extracted her arm from his grasp, “I can, and I’m doing just that. And, Mr. Quartermaine,” she looked back over her shoulder at him as she stood in the threshold of the doorway, “she’s not just a kid. She’s your kid. Better get used to the idea; you’re all she’s got.” Elise favored him with one last sympathetic glance and closed the door gently behind her as she left.
AJ stared at his daughter for a long, silent moment. Alyssa Jane. Keisha had named her after him but she hadn’t bothered to mention to him that she existed. How was this his life?? He closed his eyes once, then opened them again, laying the envelope on the coffee table to read later and crouched down in front of the child. As composed as she might appear to the outside observer, he could see the panic beginning to bloom in her eyes. “Hi there,” he said, softly. “I’m your --” he broke off and swallowed. “I’m AJ. Looks like you’re going to be staying here for a while, sweetheart. What do you, what do you think of that?”
His daughter slowly removed her thumb from her mouth, studying him with a barely trembling lip. “Is Mommy here?” Alyssa whispered, finally, the threatening tears finally spilling over her cheeks.
AJ let out a harsh breath, and reached out to the little girl, love washing over him like the biggest, most powerful wave that ever was. He held trembling hands to her, pulling her into a tentative hug. “No, honey,” AJ whispered, as his daughter sobbed against his shoulder. “No, Mommy’s not here. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
Nik’s cottage
Nikolas flung open the door almost before she could finish knocking a second time. “Hi,” Emily said, with a small, surprised grin. “What were you doing, just standing there waiting for someone to knock?” she laughed.
Nik turned away so that she couldn’t see his face, running his hand over his jaw. “Something like that,” he admitted, still turned away from her. “What can I do for you, Em?” Nikolas asked, finally turning back towards her, a small polite smile on his face.
Emily wrinkled her forehead. “I just, I came back because I left my purse over here after dinner. Nik, are you -- okay?” she asked, gently. “I was just kidding before, about the door, but -- were you waiting for someone? Someone who, apparently, wasn’t me?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m fine, Emily, but thank you.” Nikolas looked away, not meeting her eyes. “Listen, feel free to look around for your purse; I still haven’t cleared away the dinner stuff. It could well be in there,” he gestured towards the kitchen and small dining room.
Emily started towards the kitchen, then stopped and turned back towards her friend. “Actually, that was just an excuse,” she admitted, with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t forget my purse; I came back here ‘cause I wanted to apologize. To you and Gia both. We were way out of line tonight, and I’m really sorry. I acted like a little kid and the second I said all that stuff, I knew it.” She wrinkled her nose at him with a small grin. “I’m really trying to get over acting like a spoiled little kid, you know?”
Nikolas sank down in the nearby armchair, dropping his face to his hands. As Emily watched, with growing concern, he started to laugh, his voice very low and slightly hysterical. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he voiced finally, looking up at her with shining eyes.
Emily stiffened. “Look, Nikolas, I know you may think of me as just a kid, but I’m not totally insensitive. I’m not going to pretend Gia’s one of my favorite people or anything, and I totally hate what she did to me and always will but it’s stupid for me to keep throwing her past up in her face. Gia apologized; it’s time to let it go. I mean, god, none of us have crystal clear pasts. I was an addict who’s made some really abysmal choices in love.” A shadow crossed her face briefly and she hurried on. “Liz did her own share of blackmailing and lying when she first came to town. Lucky’s spent his own share of time on the, um, illegal side of the fence. And you,” Emily smiled, “well, I better not say anything or I’ll end up apologizing all over again. I’m just saying that none of us have the right to judge, and I’m really ashamed of the way I treated Gia in her own house tonight.” She looked upstairs. “I’d really like to tell her that to her face.”
“No, Emily, I didn’t mean--” He broke off, took a breath and let it out. “I didn’t mean that I couldn’t believe that a person like you would say something like that. Quite the contrary,” he smiled softly, sadly, “it’s as gracious as you always are. What I can’t believe is what an idiot I’ve been,” Nikolas’ voice was harsh. He looked at her defeatedly. “Gia’s not upstairs; she’s gone. She left. And, she’s not coming back, Em.”
“Oh, Nikolas,” Emily said softly, moving towards his side. She put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “I’m really sorry; I know that you and she--” Emily bit her lip. “I know that you cared for your roommate a lot.”
Nikolas sighed. He leaned his head against her hand; it seemed almost every darkest time of his life, he knew this gentle, tender comfort at his shoulder. More than he deserved, possibly, after the way he’d treated her but he wasn’t near noble enough to turn her away. “That’s -- part of the problem. Gia and I, we weren’t just roommates. We--” He broke off and lifted his head as a muffled giggle escaped Emily’s lips. “What?”
“Oh, Nik, I’m so sorry; I’m not laughing at you,” she hastened to say, trying to get herself under control. “It’s just,” she looked at him almost pityingly, “did you really think that we didn’t know that? The two of you haven’t exactly been,” Emily blushed slightly, “discreet. Lucky and I were just kinda waiting for you to tell us; we figured you would sooner or later, when you were ready.”
Nikolas stared at her a second longer then began to laugh, hopelessly. “Oh great,” he said, leaning back against the chair and closing his eyes, weak with laughter. “So what you’re saying is that I’ve managed to find every single way it has been possible to mess this up and do them, one by one by one?” He reached up and squeezed her hand, tightly, the laughter stopping abruptly. “At least I haven’t driven you away. Yet.”
“Hey, Nikolas, I’m not going anywhere, okay? That’s what friends do, stick around when it gets rough. Even when their friends are being total idiots,” Emily perched on the arm of his chair and poked him in the side until he ventured a small smile back at her. “Besides, I still owe you so big for sticking by me during the whole Zander debacle. I’m here, if you want to yell or fall apart or cry in your soup, okay?”
Nikolas looked at her, and for the first time since Gia walked out that door, started to feel his heart unfreeze. It hurt like hell, but at least it felt. “Thank you, Emily,” he said quietly. “I have a feeling I may do all three; you might want to stand back.”
Emily looked at him a moment, then leaned forward impulsively, encircling him with her arms and holding tight. After a moment, Nikolas’ arms lifted to hold her tentatively as his head dropped slowly to her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered soothingly, smoothing his hair with a tenderness far beyond her years. “I promise, Nik, it’s all going to be okay.”
*Song Credits: "It's My Life" -- Bon Jovi, "Sand and Water" -- Beth Nielson Chapman
