Fic: Empty (GH, Lucky)
Title: Empty
Author: empressearwig
Rating: G
Spoilers: Set during the Black & White Ball.
Author's Notes: Thanks to normative_jean for fixing my mistakes.
Summary: The worst night of Lucky Spencer’s life.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone.
~ Les Miserables, Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
“You’re not Jake’s father, Lucky. I am”
The words ring over and over in your head, each time seeming more final than the last.
You’d known your instincts about Jason and Elizabeth were right, even before their one night stand came out in the courtroom. But you’d suppressed them, telling yourself that what you and Elizabeth had, your family, was the most important thing to both of you and that was all that mattered. So when you asked, point blank, if Jake was your son, you made yourself believe Elizabeth when she told you yes.
A part of you never did quite believe her, though, so you’re not sure why you’re so stunned now.
But you never thought that Elizabeth, the woman whose loved saved you on so many occasions, would lie to you about this. Not when you’d begged for the truth. Not when you’d told her that your recovery hinged on her being honest with you.
Knowing that she thought you couldn’t survive the truth emasculates you in a way that learning of the affair hadn’t managed to. That Elizabeth thought she needed to be your mother, rather than your partner, shatters your illusions about what type of relationship you ever had.
At that moment, you know this is one of the worst nights of your life.
* * * * *
“He -- he had a heart attack.”
You don’t believe your step-mother’s words till your father confirms them, in his typical, make- light-of-everything fashion.
Luke Spencer doesn’t have heart attacks. Luke Spencer doesn’t get older. Luke Spencer goes on adventures and gets the bad guy, and isn’t frightened into a heart attack by the boogey man.
Your father is invincible. You gave up the notion that he was infallible years ago, but he’s always been larger than life itself. To see that change before your eyes is yet another blow to your system.
You no longer have a wife, your son isn’t really yours, and your father could die if this night of horror goes on too long.
The temptation to reach for something, anything, to numb the pain is building, but you need to be strong for the people who still are yours. For your father, your sister, your brother, Emily. They all need you, they all believe in you, even if the person who swore that they did both doesn’t.
When your sister rushes in, you quickly excuse yourself. You have a sudden need to search for the monsters you’ve always sworn to Cameron don’t exist.
Finding the boogey man beats waiting scared in the dark.
* * * * *
“Lucky, I - I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this, but Emily’s dead.”
You stare at your cousin in disbelief. “Carly, what are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Nikolas and Elizabeth are in the ball room…”
You don’t wait for her to finish whatever was about to pass through her lips, but take off for the ball room. ‘Emily’s not dead’ becomes your mantra as you race through the halls of your brother’s mausoleum-like home.
When you push open the doors and see your brother passed out on the floor, with Elizabeth bent over an unconscious form on a table, your hope that Carly was merely being herself dies. You cross the room to Elizabeth’s side, knowing that you both would rather be anywhere but here.
You kneel down next to your best friends’ lifeless body, across from Elizabeth, causing her to finally raise her head from Emily’s chest.
“Lucky…” she breathes out, voice heavy with tears both shed and unshed. She doesn’t say more, but relinquishes her grasp on Emily’s hand and rises to her feet. “I’m going to check on Nikolas,” she says. “He’s going to need us both, no matter what --”
You raise your glance to her tear ravaged face, cutting her off with a simple, “Thank you.” Looking back down to Emily’s white face, you effectively dismiss Elizabeth, and you hear her the heels of her impractically high heeled shoes click across the ball room floor as she goes to attend to your brother.
Blinking back your own tears, you study the face of your best friend. You’ve known this face longer than any other, save your parents, and you think you might know it better than your own. You raise a hand to trace over her fragile features, wondering how this all went so wrong. Emily was your fairy tale princess, and they’re supposed to live happily ever after, not be cut down on the night that was devoted to celebrating their happiness.
But life’s not fair, is it? You knew that before, but tonight certainly cements that in your consciousness. In one night, you’ve lost your son, almost lost your father, and now your best friend.
You want a drink, a pill, anything to blot out the horror of what is staring you in the face, but looking at Emily, you know that to give in to your demons would be the ultimate betrayal of her memory. Your sobriety was as almost as important to her as her own, and she wouldn’t want you to risk what you’ve worked so hard for on her account. The hours of meetings and therapy and sessions with your sponsor and your friend who understood your struggle were all to help prepare you for exactly this type of moment.
You just hadn’t ever considered that Emily wouldn’t be there to help you stand tall against your demons.
Finally, you can’t hold back the tears any longer, and you raise the hand you have clasped in your own to your lips, kissing it, as you murmur the words, “For you, Em. For you.” You slowly lower Emily’s hand to her side, not wanting to relinquish it. Stretching out over Emily’s chest, you let the tears stream down your face.
You’ll fulfill your promise to your friend’s memory in due time. But first, you need to say good-bye.
Author: empressearwig
Rating: G
Spoilers: Set during the Black & White Ball.
Author's Notes: Thanks to normative_jean for fixing my mistakes.
Summary: The worst night of Lucky Spencer’s life.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone.
~ Les Miserables, Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
“You’re not Jake’s father, Lucky. I am”
The words ring over and over in your head, each time seeming more final than the last.
You’d known your instincts about Jason and Elizabeth were right, even before their one night stand came out in the courtroom. But you’d suppressed them, telling yourself that what you and Elizabeth had, your family, was the most important thing to both of you and that was all that mattered. So when you asked, point blank, if Jake was your son, you made yourself believe Elizabeth when she told you yes.
A part of you never did quite believe her, though, so you’re not sure why you’re so stunned now.
But you never thought that Elizabeth, the woman whose loved saved you on so many occasions, would lie to you about this. Not when you’d begged for the truth. Not when you’d told her that your recovery hinged on her being honest with you.
Knowing that she thought you couldn’t survive the truth emasculates you in a way that learning of the affair hadn’t managed to. That Elizabeth thought she needed to be your mother, rather than your partner, shatters your illusions about what type of relationship you ever had.
At that moment, you know this is one of the worst nights of your life.
* * * * *
“He -- he had a heart attack.”
You don’t believe your step-mother’s words till your father confirms them, in his typical, make- light-of-everything fashion.
Luke Spencer doesn’t have heart attacks. Luke Spencer doesn’t get older. Luke Spencer goes on adventures and gets the bad guy, and isn’t frightened into a heart attack by the boogey man.
Your father is invincible. You gave up the notion that he was infallible years ago, but he’s always been larger than life itself. To see that change before your eyes is yet another blow to your system.
You no longer have a wife, your son isn’t really yours, and your father could die if this night of horror goes on too long.
The temptation to reach for something, anything, to numb the pain is building, but you need to be strong for the people who still are yours. For your father, your sister, your brother, Emily. They all need you, they all believe in you, even if the person who swore that they did both doesn’t.
When your sister rushes in, you quickly excuse yourself. You have a sudden need to search for the monsters you’ve always sworn to Cameron don’t exist.
Finding the boogey man beats waiting scared in the dark.
* * * * *
“Lucky, I - I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this, but Emily’s dead.”
You stare at your cousin in disbelief. “Carly, what are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Nikolas and Elizabeth are in the ball room…”
You don’t wait for her to finish whatever was about to pass through her lips, but take off for the ball room. ‘Emily’s not dead’ becomes your mantra as you race through the halls of your brother’s mausoleum-like home.
When you push open the doors and see your brother passed out on the floor, with Elizabeth bent over an unconscious form on a table, your hope that Carly was merely being herself dies. You cross the room to Elizabeth’s side, knowing that you both would rather be anywhere but here.
You kneel down next to your best friends’ lifeless body, across from Elizabeth, causing her to finally raise her head from Emily’s chest.
“Lucky…” she breathes out, voice heavy with tears both shed and unshed. She doesn’t say more, but relinquishes her grasp on Emily’s hand and rises to her feet. “I’m going to check on Nikolas,” she says. “He’s going to need us both, no matter what --”
You raise your glance to her tear ravaged face, cutting her off with a simple, “Thank you.” Looking back down to Emily’s white face, you effectively dismiss Elizabeth, and you hear her the heels of her impractically high heeled shoes click across the ball room floor as she goes to attend to your brother.
Blinking back your own tears, you study the face of your best friend. You’ve known this face longer than any other, save your parents, and you think you might know it better than your own. You raise a hand to trace over her fragile features, wondering how this all went so wrong. Emily was your fairy tale princess, and they’re supposed to live happily ever after, not be cut down on the night that was devoted to celebrating their happiness.
But life’s not fair, is it? You knew that before, but tonight certainly cements that in your consciousness. In one night, you’ve lost your son, almost lost your father, and now your best friend.
You want a drink, a pill, anything to blot out the horror of what is staring you in the face, but looking at Emily, you know that to give in to your demons would be the ultimate betrayal of her memory. Your sobriety was as almost as important to her as her own, and she wouldn’t want you to risk what you’ve worked so hard for on her account. The hours of meetings and therapy and sessions with your sponsor and your friend who understood your struggle were all to help prepare you for exactly this type of moment.
You just hadn’t ever considered that Emily wouldn’t be there to help you stand tall against your demons.
Finally, you can’t hold back the tears any longer, and you raise the hand you have clasped in your own to your lips, kissing it, as you murmur the words, “For you, Em. For you.” You slowly lower Emily’s hand to her side, not wanting to relinquish it. Stretching out over Emily’s chest, you let the tears stream down your face.
You’ll fulfill your promise to your friend’s memory in due time. But first, you need to say good-bye.