I've Had You So Many Times But Somehow I Want More
TGIF, huh, guys?
Title: Into The Mystic
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 2,416 (9/?)
Summary: There is a moment, a split-second, an exact pinpoint in time that splits the child with the person he will be forever...
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: This veers from GH canon in May of 2011. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. ^_^
Previous
The house- the cabin really- is set on the remote edge of one of those tiny little towns that’s hours away from anything. As Ethan drove through, just past ten o’clock, there wasn’t a light on. There’s a patch of overgrown weeds by the side of the house, where Lucky’s mother kept a garden. Everything is just as his brother said it would be.
The shower and faucets work with well water, and after Kristina had closed herself in the bathroom (he looked away when he could feel her eyes focus on him), Ethan stared at himself for a long time in the mirror. He almost didn’t recognize himself. He’d never been able to grow a proper beard, it was always patchy and sparse. He looked desolate and hopeless. Like his fifteen-year-old self.
He gave himself the first decent shave he’d had in months- since even before this nightmare started, and when Kristina finally came out of the steaming bathroom, wrapped in a towel, they awkwardly shuffled around each other. “Oh, your face,” she had said. He wasn’t sure that it was a compliment.
There was one real bedroom. An eight-year-old Lucky had apparently slept quite comfortably on the sofa, but twenty-three-year-old Ethan was not looking forward to the cramped neck he would have in the morning. Still, it was better than the alternative- Kristina had offered to share.
No.
No, that would not be happening. He is a bigger fool than he ever imagined. He was mad to throw the gun away on her command. He was mad to kiss her- kiss her the way he’s wanted to for so long, and not nearly enough to settle the ache he can feel all through his body that was only a dull throb and now is a raging fire.
He’d just steered her into the bedroom by herself, firmly closing the door behind her, almost wishing he could hear the click of her locking it from the inside. Silly girl. She didn’t have the survival instincts of a a gnat.
And now he is crouched on the too-small sofa, only marginally better than the backseat of the car. But no sleep comes to him. However aware he was of Kristina before (now there will always be a before), she is all that consumes him now.
***
Ethan was not used to receiving visitors. He lived in a twelve-by-twelve room above Kelly’s- it wasn’t exactly a bachelor’s party pad. So when he got a knock on his door before eight o’clock in the morning, he had no idea who it could be. And Dante Falconeri would not have been his first guess.
He hadn’t spent much time with his sister’s man. Of course, he wasn’t a top guy under Johnny- and as far as Anthony was concerned, he did the kiddie stuff- but he still felt he should try to steer clear of the cops when possible. Dante seemed like he was good to Lulu and made her happy, so that was good enough for Ethan.
But even so, not being used to company, they stood in Ethan’s doorway for a moment before Dante prompted him, “Can I come in?”
Ethan stepped back and allowed him to enter, taking a quick scan of the room he occupied. It wasn’t much to speak of. “So, uh...what can I do for you, detective?” he said, jerking open a drawer for a tee shirt. It was a pretty stupid question though, because there could only be one reason Dante would be here.
Kristina.
Nobody would let him see her, not even Lucky. Everyone just kept saying it would all be okay, to not complicate things, but it all just kept getting worse, much worse. Statements from Robin Scorpio and Maxie Jones confirming that Lisa gave Kristina pills, all of her father’s history, her own shaky history with the truth and the law, all of Alexis’s past (which was darker than Ethan ever imagined), and everything that could possibly have worked against her, did.
Dante didn’t beat around the bush. “Look...if you’ve got anything that could help my sister...” he didn’t finish and Ethan could see that his eyes were bloodshot and weary. He could relate.
Ethan shook his head. “Believe me, man, if I could do anything...” but he saw where Dante was focusing his gaze, on the wall behind him and Ethan ducked his head in embarrassment.
A photo of them dancing at her father’s wedding that she’d framed and given to him. It was the only object in the room that showed a person lived there.
Dante turned back to Ethan. “I know you would.”
***
When Ethan wakes up in the middle of the night, it’s to the sound of Kristina screaming. At first he thinks he’s dreaming or it’s the sound of his own fear, but as the world comes back to him, panic spurs him to movement. He charges into the bedroom, ready to do murder.
Kristina is alone, flailing on the bed, the sheets twisted around her and screaming in her sleep.
“Krissy, Krissy,” Ethan crouches over the bed, trying to still his own racing heart. She cries out a pained no and stop and doesn’t seem to hear him. She lashes out and he catches her wrists, softly, desperately pleading with her to wake up. “Angel, it’s me.”
Her eyes open and then go wider, and Ethan realizes how he is holding her, stretched out over her, pinning her arms over her head. “I’m sor-” but he is cut off and he cannot pick himself off her. She’s surged up towards him, wrapping her legs around his hips. She pulls him in with every part of her, her mouth, her thighs, the way her throat rises and falls under his lips. Desperate to put his hands on her, Ethan releases her wrists, tangling his hands in her hair, sliding them under her and softly rolling her over on top of him. Her hands reach under his tee shirt, her fingers burning him with their contact.
She reaches for his belt buckle- the swoosh of leather against metal is the loudest noise in the world. And it’s enough to send the blood rushing back to his head and Ethan pushes her off him, throwing himself across the room. He is ignoring the aching tightness in his body, leaning against the wall, unable to bear his own weight. She holds out a hand to him, beckoning him back to her, eyes wide with want and confusion but he shakes his head. “No...please.” He can scarcely breathe.
Kristina stands up, and he is frozen, feet rooted to the floor, boxed into the corner. She puts her hands on his chest, trying to pull him down to her, but he doesn’t bend, hanging on to his own will by a thread of sanity. “What’s wrong with you?” she pleads, but the words lose their sting with her eyes filled with tears. And then, worse. “What’s wrong with me?”
Ethan’s head falls back against the wall. There are some things he just cannot speak of, that he has never spoken of.
Kristina backs away from him, letting her hands fall to the side. “Why are you here? Why do you keep saving me- from everything- if you don’t want...”
“Is that what you think of me?” His eyes narrow at her. “Is that what you think of yourself, that you owe me for...”
“I do owe you,” Kristina is crying again, her face crumpled and her voice shaking. “I owe you everything.” She takes a deep breath, looking him in the eye. “But that...that is not a payment.”
The word is enough to make him sick to his stomach, but he’s gotten control of himself to touch her and he reaches out, brushing his thumb down her cheek. She closes her eyes and leans into him. “What were you dreaming about? Lisa?”
Kristina goes still for a moment, before looking up at him. “Kiefer.”
Ethan pulls her close, into his arms, as a protector, not as a lover. It’s the role he has always taken with her, the role he has never questioned. Her arms go around his waist, leaning into him with complete trust. He lifts her off her feet and sits down on the bed with her in his lap.
“I didn’t remember a lot of that night for a long time,” she says after a while, resting her head on his shoulder. “At first, I didn’t even know it was you who picked me up off the floor.”
“I know,” Ethan answers, remembering the slash across his face, how she struggled weakly against him at first.
“I was so scared, I hurt so bad, I just wanted to die, to make the pain stop,” Kristina continues. “And then...I heard your voice. You were saying I’d be okay. And I felt safe.” Her lip trembles in that way he knows far too well. “And that makes what I did even worse...”
He shakes his head, stroking a hand down her hair. “No, no don’t think of that. I never do.”
She picks her head up and smiles at him, that old smile of hers that makes him feel like he hangs the moon. “You’ve always been the safest place for me.”
She’s so goddamn beautiful and she calms his soul with her smile. She always has. He can get lost in her. “That’s ironic,” he says softly. “Because you’ve always scared the hell out of me.” But he’s smiling tenderly at her, and she grins back, with a hint of her old sparkle.
“And now?” she prompts, looking at him, through lowered lashes. “Are you still afraid?”
Little brat. Angel. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
He takes her face in his hands. God, how long has he wanted this?
Forever.
“More than ever,” he answers, before lowering his mouth to hers.
***
Kristina remembered being seven years old and listening to her mother and Uncle Ric arguing in the last days of their marriage. They would argue about what was best for Molly (Kristina was very obviously left out of it, which she didn’t understand when she was little but it was perfectly clear as to why now).
She wasn’t allowed to go home. Allison Niles- Lisa’s mother- wasn’t going to let her mother post bail, no matter how many frantic favors Alexis, Diane and Mac called in.
Kristina didn’t sleep for two whole nights in jail. She was paraded down a long row of cells where women shouted and catcalled at her, followed by deafening whispers of Sonny Corinthos’s daughter. She didn’t know if that was a point in her favor or against her yet.
She had her own cell- a favor called in from Dante she found out later, but there was no telling how long this arrangement could last. Her mother and father were there every day, but she couldn’t see Molly. She understood that. She didn’t want Molly to see her here, or even be here.
Diane was her official counsel. “It will look better,” Alexis had said. “Less partial.” She looked like she was trying to convince herself.
And Kristina trusted everything her mother said, but had never seen her looking so scared or unsure. And Diane’s first suggestion hadn’t done much to put them all at ease.
“Plea bargain. Involuntary manslaughter, with the most flexible parole ever. She probably wouldn’t even do any jail time,” Diane said it all very fast.
“Probably?” Alexis was already hyperventilating.
“But I didn’t do it,” Kristina pleaded. “I didn’t do it.” Alexis put her arms around her daughter.
The names Ethan Lovett and John Zacchara were circled in bright blue ink at the top of Diane’s notepad. “What are you doing with Ethan and Johnny?” Kristina asked.
“Don’t worry, honey, it’s all going to be okay,” Alexis tried to soothe her, but Kristina was tired of hearing that.
“Then why can’t you tell me?” She couldn’t fight the panic in her voice.
Diane took a deep breath. “They’re the star witnesses- eye witnesses- for the prosecution. They found you, standing over the body with the murder weapon in your hand. I’m going to need to discredit their testimony.”
Kristina felt uneasy. “What do you mean, they’ll just say what they saw, but...Ethan knows I didn’t do it.”
Alexis and Diane exchanged a look. “But you don’t remember anything, honey,” Alexis said gently.
“All you could tell us was you heard someone say your name,” Diane was more straight forward. “A man’s voice, a man with an accent.”
Kristina nodded. “So?”
Diane raised an eyebrow. “Was it an Australian accent?”
Kristina blinked. “What- you think it was Ethan? No!”
Diane raised her hands. “I’m not saying that. It’s just a possibility of a scenario-”
“No, it’s not!” Alexis got up and stood behind her, trying to soothe her hands down Kristina’s arms, but she was strung as tight as a bow.
“All I’m trying to do is discredit them as witnesses, confuse the jury,” Diane continued, calm and rational. “A hung jury means no conviction.”
“There has to be a better way than accusing Ethan!” Kristina could hear the hysteria in her voice, reminding her of last spring, and Kiefer, and pleading with her father not to kill Ethan. She didn’t understand how she could ever let herself be back here.
“It’s a possibility that he could have set you up,” Diane said. “You almost ruined his life by lying about him. Maybe he wanted to return the favor?”
“Diane!” Alexis shouted.
“Ethan would never do that to me,” Kristina said firmly. “Or Johnny.”
“A killer and a liar,” Diane sighed. “Interesting choices for you to put your faith in.”
<<<333
Title: Into The Mystic
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 2,416 (9/?)
Summary: There is a moment, a split-second, an exact pinpoint in time that splits the child with the person he will be forever...
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: This veers from GH canon in May of 2011. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. ^_^
Previous
The house- the cabin really- is set on the remote edge of one of those tiny little towns that’s hours away from anything. As Ethan drove through, just past ten o’clock, there wasn’t a light on. There’s a patch of overgrown weeds by the side of the house, where Lucky’s mother kept a garden. Everything is just as his brother said it would be.
The shower and faucets work with well water, and after Kristina had closed herself in the bathroom (he looked away when he could feel her eyes focus on him), Ethan stared at himself for a long time in the mirror. He almost didn’t recognize himself. He’d never been able to grow a proper beard, it was always patchy and sparse. He looked desolate and hopeless. Like his fifteen-year-old self.
He gave himself the first decent shave he’d had in months- since even before this nightmare started, and when Kristina finally came out of the steaming bathroom, wrapped in a towel, they awkwardly shuffled around each other. “Oh, your face,” she had said. He wasn’t sure that it was a compliment.
There was one real bedroom. An eight-year-old Lucky had apparently slept quite comfortably on the sofa, but twenty-three-year-old Ethan was not looking forward to the cramped neck he would have in the morning. Still, it was better than the alternative- Kristina had offered to share.
No.
No, that would not be happening. He is a bigger fool than he ever imagined. He was mad to throw the gun away on her command. He was mad to kiss her- kiss her the way he’s wanted to for so long, and not nearly enough to settle the ache he can feel all through his body that was only a dull throb and now is a raging fire.
He’d just steered her into the bedroom by herself, firmly closing the door behind her, almost wishing he could hear the click of her locking it from the inside. Silly girl. She didn’t have the survival instincts of a a gnat.
And now he is crouched on the too-small sofa, only marginally better than the backseat of the car. But no sleep comes to him. However aware he was of Kristina before (now there will always be a before), she is all that consumes him now.
***
Ethan was not used to receiving visitors. He lived in a twelve-by-twelve room above Kelly’s- it wasn’t exactly a bachelor’s party pad. So when he got a knock on his door before eight o’clock in the morning, he had no idea who it could be. And Dante Falconeri would not have been his first guess.
He hadn’t spent much time with his sister’s man. Of course, he wasn’t a top guy under Johnny- and as far as Anthony was concerned, he did the kiddie stuff- but he still felt he should try to steer clear of the cops when possible. Dante seemed like he was good to Lulu and made her happy, so that was good enough for Ethan.
But even so, not being used to company, they stood in Ethan’s doorway for a moment before Dante prompted him, “Can I come in?”
Ethan stepped back and allowed him to enter, taking a quick scan of the room he occupied. It wasn’t much to speak of. “So, uh...what can I do for you, detective?” he said, jerking open a drawer for a tee shirt. It was a pretty stupid question though, because there could only be one reason Dante would be here.
Kristina.
Nobody would let him see her, not even Lucky. Everyone just kept saying it would all be okay, to not complicate things, but it all just kept getting worse, much worse. Statements from Robin Scorpio and Maxie Jones confirming that Lisa gave Kristina pills, all of her father’s history, her own shaky history with the truth and the law, all of Alexis’s past (which was darker than Ethan ever imagined), and everything that could possibly have worked against her, did.
Dante didn’t beat around the bush. “Look...if you’ve got anything that could help my sister...” he didn’t finish and Ethan could see that his eyes were bloodshot and weary. He could relate.
Ethan shook his head. “Believe me, man, if I could do anything...” but he saw where Dante was focusing his gaze, on the wall behind him and Ethan ducked his head in embarrassment.
A photo of them dancing at her father’s wedding that she’d framed and given to him. It was the only object in the room that showed a person lived there.
Dante turned back to Ethan. “I know you would.”
***
When Ethan wakes up in the middle of the night, it’s to the sound of Kristina screaming. At first he thinks he’s dreaming or it’s the sound of his own fear, but as the world comes back to him, panic spurs him to movement. He charges into the bedroom, ready to do murder.
Kristina is alone, flailing on the bed, the sheets twisted around her and screaming in her sleep.
“Krissy, Krissy,” Ethan crouches over the bed, trying to still his own racing heart. She cries out a pained no and stop and doesn’t seem to hear him. She lashes out and he catches her wrists, softly, desperately pleading with her to wake up. “Angel, it’s me.”
Her eyes open and then go wider, and Ethan realizes how he is holding her, stretched out over her, pinning her arms over her head. “I’m sor-” but he is cut off and he cannot pick himself off her. She’s surged up towards him, wrapping her legs around his hips. She pulls him in with every part of her, her mouth, her thighs, the way her throat rises and falls under his lips. Desperate to put his hands on her, Ethan releases her wrists, tangling his hands in her hair, sliding them under her and softly rolling her over on top of him. Her hands reach under his tee shirt, her fingers burning him with their contact.
She reaches for his belt buckle- the swoosh of leather against metal is the loudest noise in the world. And it’s enough to send the blood rushing back to his head and Ethan pushes her off him, throwing himself across the room. He is ignoring the aching tightness in his body, leaning against the wall, unable to bear his own weight. She holds out a hand to him, beckoning him back to her, eyes wide with want and confusion but he shakes his head. “No...please.” He can scarcely breathe.
Kristina stands up, and he is frozen, feet rooted to the floor, boxed into the corner. She puts her hands on his chest, trying to pull him down to her, but he doesn’t bend, hanging on to his own will by a thread of sanity. “What’s wrong with you?” she pleads, but the words lose their sting with her eyes filled with tears. And then, worse. “What’s wrong with me?”
Ethan’s head falls back against the wall. There are some things he just cannot speak of, that he has never spoken of.
Kristina backs away from him, letting her hands fall to the side. “Why are you here? Why do you keep saving me- from everything- if you don’t want...”
“Is that what you think of me?” His eyes narrow at her. “Is that what you think of yourself, that you owe me for...”
“I do owe you,” Kristina is crying again, her face crumpled and her voice shaking. “I owe you everything.” She takes a deep breath, looking him in the eye. “But that...that is not a payment.”
The word is enough to make him sick to his stomach, but he’s gotten control of himself to touch her and he reaches out, brushing his thumb down her cheek. She closes her eyes and leans into him. “What were you dreaming about? Lisa?”
Kristina goes still for a moment, before looking up at him. “Kiefer.”
Ethan pulls her close, into his arms, as a protector, not as a lover. It’s the role he has always taken with her, the role he has never questioned. Her arms go around his waist, leaning into him with complete trust. He lifts her off her feet and sits down on the bed with her in his lap.
“I didn’t remember a lot of that night for a long time,” she says after a while, resting her head on his shoulder. “At first, I didn’t even know it was you who picked me up off the floor.”
“I know,” Ethan answers, remembering the slash across his face, how she struggled weakly against him at first.
“I was so scared, I hurt so bad, I just wanted to die, to make the pain stop,” Kristina continues. “And then...I heard your voice. You were saying I’d be okay. And I felt safe.” Her lip trembles in that way he knows far too well. “And that makes what I did even worse...”
He shakes his head, stroking a hand down her hair. “No, no don’t think of that. I never do.”
She picks her head up and smiles at him, that old smile of hers that makes him feel like he hangs the moon. “You’ve always been the safest place for me.”
She’s so goddamn beautiful and she calms his soul with her smile. She always has. He can get lost in her. “That’s ironic,” he says softly. “Because you’ve always scared the hell out of me.” But he’s smiling tenderly at her, and she grins back, with a hint of her old sparkle.
“And now?” she prompts, looking at him, through lowered lashes. “Are you still afraid?”
Little brat. Angel. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
He takes her face in his hands. God, how long has he wanted this?
Forever.
“More than ever,” he answers, before lowering his mouth to hers.
***
Kristina remembered being seven years old and listening to her mother and Uncle Ric arguing in the last days of their marriage. They would argue about what was best for Molly (Kristina was very obviously left out of it, which she didn’t understand when she was little but it was perfectly clear as to why now).
She wasn’t allowed to go home. Allison Niles- Lisa’s mother- wasn’t going to let her mother post bail, no matter how many frantic favors Alexis, Diane and Mac called in.
Kristina didn’t sleep for two whole nights in jail. She was paraded down a long row of cells where women shouted and catcalled at her, followed by deafening whispers of Sonny Corinthos’s daughter. She didn’t know if that was a point in her favor or against her yet.
She had her own cell- a favor called in from Dante she found out later, but there was no telling how long this arrangement could last. Her mother and father were there every day, but she couldn’t see Molly. She understood that. She didn’t want Molly to see her here, or even be here.
Diane was her official counsel. “It will look better,” Alexis had said. “Less partial.” She looked like she was trying to convince herself.
And Kristina trusted everything her mother said, but had never seen her looking so scared or unsure. And Diane’s first suggestion hadn’t done much to put them all at ease.
“Plea bargain. Involuntary manslaughter, with the most flexible parole ever. She probably wouldn’t even do any jail time,” Diane said it all very fast.
“Probably?” Alexis was already hyperventilating.
“But I didn’t do it,” Kristina pleaded. “I didn’t do it.” Alexis put her arms around her daughter.
The names Ethan Lovett and John Zacchara were circled in bright blue ink at the top of Diane’s notepad. “What are you doing with Ethan and Johnny?” Kristina asked.
“Don’t worry, honey, it’s all going to be okay,” Alexis tried to soothe her, but Kristina was tired of hearing that.
“Then why can’t you tell me?” She couldn’t fight the panic in her voice.
Diane took a deep breath. “They’re the star witnesses- eye witnesses- for the prosecution. They found you, standing over the body with the murder weapon in your hand. I’m going to need to discredit their testimony.”
Kristina felt uneasy. “What do you mean, they’ll just say what they saw, but...Ethan knows I didn’t do it.”
Alexis and Diane exchanged a look. “But you don’t remember anything, honey,” Alexis said gently.
“All you could tell us was you heard someone say your name,” Diane was more straight forward. “A man’s voice, a man with an accent.”
Kristina nodded. “So?”
Diane raised an eyebrow. “Was it an Australian accent?”
Kristina blinked. “What- you think it was Ethan? No!”
Diane raised her hands. “I’m not saying that. It’s just a possibility of a scenario-”
“No, it’s not!” Alexis got up and stood behind her, trying to soothe her hands down Kristina’s arms, but she was strung as tight as a bow.
“All I’m trying to do is discredit them as witnesses, confuse the jury,” Diane continued, calm and rational. “A hung jury means no conviction.”
“There has to be a better way than accusing Ethan!” Kristina could hear the hysteria in her voice, reminding her of last spring, and Kiefer, and pleading with her father not to kill Ethan. She didn’t understand how she could ever let herself be back here.
“It’s a possibility that he could have set you up,” Diane said. “You almost ruined his life by lying about him. Maybe he wanted to return the favor?”
“Diane!” Alexis shouted.
“Ethan would never do that to me,” Kristina said firmly. “Or Johnny.”
“A killer and a liar,” Diane sighed. “Interesting choices for you to put your faith in.”
<<<333