Together We Can See What We Will Find
Title: Into The Mystic
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 2,269 (3/?)
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 last May. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. ^_^
Previous
Kristina wakes up in a sheer flush of panic when she realizes that she is alone on this hard bed, in this dark, cold motel room. She opens her mouth to call for Ethan, but her throat is too dry to make any sound. Before she can give way to abject terror that something horrible has happened, she finds a note on the thin pillow next to her head. She’s oddly touched by the childish scrawl, all in capital letters.
KRISSY,
YOU’RE SAFE. I’LL BE BACK SOON. STAY PUT AND KEEP THE DOOR LOCKED.
-EL
She can feel her heartbeat slow to normal at his reassurance, even as she wonders where he could have gone, alone at that. She sits up, pulling the jacket she’s been wearing for two whole days more tightly around her. For early June, it’s unseasonably cold and dank. Well...she thinks it’s unseasonable. She doesn’t actually know where they are.
Still, it’s been two days...
And Kristina remembers how very badly she wanted to bathe the night before, but fell asleep (again) while Ethan was in the shower. She estimates that she has been asleep for over half the time they’ve been gone, and she still feels completely and utterly exhausted. But that doesn’t matter any more. She can hardly stand the feel of her own skin and hair; she is going into that shower and maybe never coming out.
She uses almost the entire bottle of the cheap motel conditioner, trying not to think of the lavendar-scented bath oil at her mother’s house, or Brenda’s French lotions. Finally getting out and wrapping hersel in the scratchy, threadbare towel provided, she finger-combs her hair, glaring at the pile of dirty clothes she took off. They are all she has, there is nothing to do about it.
Just as she is reaching for her three-day-old jeans, the motel door opens.
Ethan stands still in the doorway, caught looking at her for a moment, and Kristina realizes how this must look to him, with the towel wrapped around her and her hair still dripping wet. She can feel her skin go flush all over, and it has nothing to do with the shower. He clears his throat, and closes the door behind him, and Kristina’s not sure if she should shriek and run back into the bathroom in a fit of false modesty, but that seems like it would be pretty silly of her at his point, so she just stands in the middle of the room with her arms crossed in front of her chest, keeping the towel closed. She does notice that he is making a concerted effort to not look at her and she’s not sure on which level she should be offended.
He has two brown paper sacks, one which he tosses on the bed and the other that he carefully sets on the card table next to the door. The smell of hot coffee and greasy egg sandwiches is suddenly the most important thing in the world and Kristina tightens the towel around her, reaching for one of the cups.
“Not that one,” he stops her, switching the one she’s holding and Kristina takes a small, savoring sip. It’s heavily creamed and sugared and she assumes that his is black. Not for the first time in her life, but for an entirely different reason, Kristina wants to kiss the daylights out of Ethan.
“I’m sorry,” Kristina says, after she devoured half of her sandwich. “I’m sorry I’m not dressed yet, I-” she looks over her shoulder at the offending garments still piled on the floor, feeling as though she can see cartoon wavy lines coming off them.
Ethan is quiet, ducking his head down and stands, lifting the other brown bag off the bed, and opening it. He takes out a little cotton sundress with cap sleeves and a scooped neck, and Kristina thinks in this split second that the image of him holding up this little dress in front of him will be the dearest memory she ever has of him. But then-
“You like red, right?” he asks, a twinge of uncertainty in his voice and Kristina realizes that she was wrong.
***
“I’m sorry, Ethan.”
It seemed like it was the sixteenth time she said that since he burst into her hotel room with a goofy grin to find his wife in bed with another man, and he wasn’t even quite sure what those words should mean, what Maya should even be apologizing for.
Not for breaking the vows that were a mockery of the whole institution in the first place; not for the money which had never really mattered to him anyway. His marriage was over, but it had never been anything real to begin with.
Maya took a deep breath and stood to face him. “Ethan...James was...is...my first love.” Her face softened and she was so stunningly beautiful, something twisted inside his gut. “My forever love,” she finished, her voice kind but firm.
Ethan had heard all about them, about how they were Mr. and Mrs. Popular in high school, but they’d grown up. (Hadn’t they?) “I thought it was kid stuff with you guys, just puppy love and all that,” he sounded petulant in his head, but he supposed he was entitled to a bit of husbandly grumbling.
Maya offered a timid smile. “It’s different now I guess. When he heard that my Uncle Sam was in the hospital, he flew right back home, he’s been my rock this whole time, been there for my family...All of this just...happened.”
“And who am I to stand in the way of true love then, right?” Ethan tried for his old cocky grin but he could hear the bitter edge in his voice. He touched his hand to his wife’s face -- for the last time -- and kissed her cheek. “I want you to be happy, Maya. But...” He stopped himself. There was nothing for him to say.
But what about me?
Luke was gone. Lulu and Lucky had gotten along just fine without him, they didn’t need him. For a little while, he could pretend that he belonged to someone with Maya, but now he didn’t even have that.
“Oh, Ethan,” Maya smiled at him, fully this time. “You are too good of a guy for a fake marriage. There’s a real love out there, just waiting for you. You won’t have to pretend forever.”
Forever is a very long time.
A sweet face insistently pushed itself to the forefront of his thoughts, with big brown eyes and a delicate upper lip, but he pushed the face back. He would pretend as long as he could.
•••
Ethan’s whole world has been confined to a four-foot square space. He’s been driving for almost a week straight (Kristina took over for one morning, but frankly, she’s a terrible driver and all they need is to get pulled over) and he almost feels like he’s stuck in some sort of purgatory. He hasn’t heard from Johnny yet. He’s afraid to leave the cell phone on all the time, but he checks the messages at least once a day and zilch. He hasn’t eaten anything that didn’t come out of a greasy paper sack, he’s been sleeping in the fetal position in the backseat while Kristina curls up in the passenger seat looking like she’s in a Barcalounger, and to top it all off, he’s terrified all the time.
Kristina is looking out the open window, her hair blowing in front of her face, and for the thousandth time, he fights an urge to take his hand and smooth it back. Just to touch her, make sure she’s okay, make sure she is still there.
She looks at him with such trust and adoration, and it’s all he can do to keep a stiff upper lip around her. She has nightmares, he wakes up to her whimpering in the middle of the night and peers over the front seat at her, her brow puckered in fear. He touches her then, ghosts his hand over her hair and down her neck, and watches over her until she’s breathing easy again. She’s always looking at him with questions in her eyes, asking for reassurances that he doesn’t know how to give. When they’re briefly in public places for food or restrooms, he can feel her little hand flutter towards his, but then she draws back. Like she’s afraid to touch him, too. She doesn’t know that he stole the pretty red dress, the one that made her face light up and he foolishly told himself that was worth any of the greater trouble it might have caused.
Hours later that day, he pulled into a super store and gave her fifty dollars to stock up on her necessities. He had followed at a discreet distance, gently correcting her as she picked up impractical sandals and silky tops. “Sorry,” she gave a sheepish imitation of her pretty smile. “I’ve never done this before?”
“Been on the run for murder? Good God, neither have I,” Ethan smiles tenderly at her and her face brightens just enough. It’s true. He’s been on the move for years, but no one was ever chasing him. No one ever wanted him.
He moves to change the radio station -- he still hasn’t heard any news reports asking for their whereabouts, which gives him a small amount of relief -- and feels her slim fingers brush his. Before he can pull away, she tightens her grip on his hand and he slows the car down to look at her.
“Ethan, I don’t know what I would do without you,” she says, but the words have none of her old schoolgirl crush in them. Kristina is changing before his eyes, growing up like he was always afraid she would...and there are so many things he can’t protect her from...
And that is the most terrifying thing of all.
***
Kristina took her time through the park on her way home from her dad’s house. It had been the same since she was a very little girl, alternating Sunday dinners between her mom’s house and her dad’s, it was something Sonny had always insisted on. There was, in fact, only one instance that Kristina could remember all of her family being in the same place at the same time, and then it was only for a few minutes. Her first Holy Communion, when she was seven, and she remembered her father eying Uncle Ric warily from across the room, as he held Molly in his lap. Even then. Of course that was long before Sam and Dante were in the picture.
Kristina sometimes wondered if Sonny’s insistence of her presence was still some sort of proof of ownership, and way of sticking it to her mother for keeping them apart for the first year of her life. That was unkind, and she knew her father loved her, but she went mostly ignored at his house. Michael was the main concern (even Morgan seemed to understand and accept this) and Kristina worried about her brother more than anyone but she felt that her father never saw her unless she was disappointing him (which might have included being beaten into a broken, scared shadow of herself).
It might have been a blessing to go so unnoticed at times though -- like this past month with Dr. Niles and the pills. She knew what her father would do and she didn’t want anything else bad to happen, even to someone who had hurt her -- she just wanted to put it behind her. She just wished she would stop seeing Lisa everywhere -- it seemed she would run into her on the docks every few days and she was always right behind her when she was grabbing a coffee at Kelley’s. It was like she couldn’t escape her. “Hi Kristina!” she would say brightly. “Have you heard back from Yale yet? Let me know if you need a refill on those herbal supplements.” Her face was so warm and friendly -- it was positively chilling how easily she lied.
Kristina had never confronted her. She didn’t know what Dr. Niles was trying to gain, she was scared of what would happen when she found out the jig was up.
She heard a rustle in the trees behind her and her heart slammed in her throat. Stop jumping out of your skin at every little thing, Kristina Adela, she chastised herself and then promptly screamed when she felt a big hand on her shoulder.
“Krissy?” And then she heard Ethan’s raspy drawl, and wanted to crumble in humiliation. Taking a shaky breath, she turned to him trying for a calm, easy smile. She didn’t fool him for a second. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Two difficult questions with two short answers. Too much to think about or she would go crazy, and no. “Ethan, will you walk me home?” she asked, hating how small her voice sounded.
A thousand questions ran through his eyes, but as always, Ethan never pressed for more than she could give. “Of course, sweetheart.” He fell into step next to her and with the warm, gentle pressure of his hand on the small of her back, Kristina felt her fear ebb and fall away, just enough.
Next
<<<333
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 2,269 (3/?)
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 last May. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. ^_^
Previous
Kristina wakes up in a sheer flush of panic when she realizes that she is alone on this hard bed, in this dark, cold motel room. She opens her mouth to call for Ethan, but her throat is too dry to make any sound. Before she can give way to abject terror that something horrible has happened, she finds a note on the thin pillow next to her head. She’s oddly touched by the childish scrawl, all in capital letters.
KRISSY,
YOU’RE SAFE. I’LL BE BACK SOON. STAY PUT AND KEEP THE DOOR LOCKED.
-EL
She can feel her heartbeat slow to normal at his reassurance, even as she wonders where he could have gone, alone at that. She sits up, pulling the jacket she’s been wearing for two whole days more tightly around her. For early June, it’s unseasonably cold and dank. Well...she thinks it’s unseasonable. She doesn’t actually know where they are.
Still, it’s been two days...
And Kristina remembers how very badly she wanted to bathe the night before, but fell asleep (again) while Ethan was in the shower. She estimates that she has been asleep for over half the time they’ve been gone, and she still feels completely and utterly exhausted. But that doesn’t matter any more. She can hardly stand the feel of her own skin and hair; she is going into that shower and maybe never coming out.
She uses almost the entire bottle of the cheap motel conditioner, trying not to think of the lavendar-scented bath oil at her mother’s house, or Brenda’s French lotions. Finally getting out and wrapping hersel in the scratchy, threadbare towel provided, she finger-combs her hair, glaring at the pile of dirty clothes she took off. They are all she has, there is nothing to do about it.
Just as she is reaching for her three-day-old jeans, the motel door opens.
Ethan stands still in the doorway, caught looking at her for a moment, and Kristina realizes how this must look to him, with the towel wrapped around her and her hair still dripping wet. She can feel her skin go flush all over, and it has nothing to do with the shower. He clears his throat, and closes the door behind him, and Kristina’s not sure if she should shriek and run back into the bathroom in a fit of false modesty, but that seems like it would be pretty silly of her at his point, so she just stands in the middle of the room with her arms crossed in front of her chest, keeping the towel closed. She does notice that he is making a concerted effort to not look at her and she’s not sure on which level she should be offended.
He has two brown paper sacks, one which he tosses on the bed and the other that he carefully sets on the card table next to the door. The smell of hot coffee and greasy egg sandwiches is suddenly the most important thing in the world and Kristina tightens the towel around her, reaching for one of the cups.
“Not that one,” he stops her, switching the one she’s holding and Kristina takes a small, savoring sip. It’s heavily creamed and sugared and she assumes that his is black. Not for the first time in her life, but for an entirely different reason, Kristina wants to kiss the daylights out of Ethan.
“I’m sorry,” Kristina says, after she devoured half of her sandwich. “I’m sorry I’m not dressed yet, I-” she looks over her shoulder at the offending garments still piled on the floor, feeling as though she can see cartoon wavy lines coming off them.
Ethan is quiet, ducking his head down and stands, lifting the other brown bag off the bed, and opening it. He takes out a little cotton sundress with cap sleeves and a scooped neck, and Kristina thinks in this split second that the image of him holding up this little dress in front of him will be the dearest memory she ever has of him. But then-
“You like red, right?” he asks, a twinge of uncertainty in his voice and Kristina realizes that she was wrong.
***
“I’m sorry, Ethan.”
It seemed like it was the sixteenth time she said that since he burst into her hotel room with a goofy grin to find his wife in bed with another man, and he wasn’t even quite sure what those words should mean, what Maya should even be apologizing for.
Not for breaking the vows that were a mockery of the whole institution in the first place; not for the money which had never really mattered to him anyway. His marriage was over, but it had never been anything real to begin with.
Maya took a deep breath and stood to face him. “Ethan...James was...is...my first love.” Her face softened and she was so stunningly beautiful, something twisted inside his gut. “My forever love,” she finished, her voice kind but firm.
Ethan had heard all about them, about how they were Mr. and Mrs. Popular in high school, but they’d grown up. (Hadn’t they?) “I thought it was kid stuff with you guys, just puppy love and all that,” he sounded petulant in his head, but he supposed he was entitled to a bit of husbandly grumbling.
Maya offered a timid smile. “It’s different now I guess. When he heard that my Uncle Sam was in the hospital, he flew right back home, he’s been my rock this whole time, been there for my family...All of this just...happened.”
“And who am I to stand in the way of true love then, right?” Ethan tried for his old cocky grin but he could hear the bitter edge in his voice. He touched his hand to his wife’s face -- for the last time -- and kissed her cheek. “I want you to be happy, Maya. But...” He stopped himself. There was nothing for him to say.
But what about me?
Luke was gone. Lulu and Lucky had gotten along just fine without him, they didn’t need him. For a little while, he could pretend that he belonged to someone with Maya, but now he didn’t even have that.
“Oh, Ethan,” Maya smiled at him, fully this time. “You are too good of a guy for a fake marriage. There’s a real love out there, just waiting for you. You won’t have to pretend forever.”
Forever is a very long time.
A sweet face insistently pushed itself to the forefront of his thoughts, with big brown eyes and a delicate upper lip, but he pushed the face back. He would pretend as long as he could.
•••
Ethan’s whole world has been confined to a four-foot square space. He’s been driving for almost a week straight (Kristina took over for one morning, but frankly, she’s a terrible driver and all they need is to get pulled over) and he almost feels like he’s stuck in some sort of purgatory. He hasn’t heard from Johnny yet. He’s afraid to leave the cell phone on all the time, but he checks the messages at least once a day and zilch. He hasn’t eaten anything that didn’t come out of a greasy paper sack, he’s been sleeping in the fetal position in the backseat while Kristina curls up in the passenger seat looking like she’s in a Barcalounger, and to top it all off, he’s terrified all the time.
Kristina is looking out the open window, her hair blowing in front of her face, and for the thousandth time, he fights an urge to take his hand and smooth it back. Just to touch her, make sure she’s okay, make sure she is still there.
She looks at him with such trust and adoration, and it’s all he can do to keep a stiff upper lip around her. She has nightmares, he wakes up to her whimpering in the middle of the night and peers over the front seat at her, her brow puckered in fear. He touches her then, ghosts his hand over her hair and down her neck, and watches over her until she’s breathing easy again. She’s always looking at him with questions in her eyes, asking for reassurances that he doesn’t know how to give. When they’re briefly in public places for food or restrooms, he can feel her little hand flutter towards his, but then she draws back. Like she’s afraid to touch him, too. She doesn’t know that he stole the pretty red dress, the one that made her face light up and he foolishly told himself that was worth any of the greater trouble it might have caused.
Hours later that day, he pulled into a super store and gave her fifty dollars to stock up on her necessities. He had followed at a discreet distance, gently correcting her as she picked up impractical sandals and silky tops. “Sorry,” she gave a sheepish imitation of her pretty smile. “I’ve never done this before?”
“Been on the run for murder? Good God, neither have I,” Ethan smiles tenderly at her and her face brightens just enough. It’s true. He’s been on the move for years, but no one was ever chasing him. No one ever wanted him.
He moves to change the radio station -- he still hasn’t heard any news reports asking for their whereabouts, which gives him a small amount of relief -- and feels her slim fingers brush his. Before he can pull away, she tightens her grip on his hand and he slows the car down to look at her.
“Ethan, I don’t know what I would do without you,” she says, but the words have none of her old schoolgirl crush in them. Kristina is changing before his eyes, growing up like he was always afraid she would...and there are so many things he can’t protect her from...
And that is the most terrifying thing of all.
***
Kristina took her time through the park on her way home from her dad’s house. It had been the same since she was a very little girl, alternating Sunday dinners between her mom’s house and her dad’s, it was something Sonny had always insisted on. There was, in fact, only one instance that Kristina could remember all of her family being in the same place at the same time, and then it was only for a few minutes. Her first Holy Communion, when she was seven, and she remembered her father eying Uncle Ric warily from across the room, as he held Molly in his lap. Even then. Of course that was long before Sam and Dante were in the picture.
Kristina sometimes wondered if Sonny’s insistence of her presence was still some sort of proof of ownership, and way of sticking it to her mother for keeping them apart for the first year of her life. That was unkind, and she knew her father loved her, but she went mostly ignored at his house. Michael was the main concern (even Morgan seemed to understand and accept this) and Kristina worried about her brother more than anyone but she felt that her father never saw her unless she was disappointing him (which might have included being beaten into a broken, scared shadow of herself).
It might have been a blessing to go so unnoticed at times though -- like this past month with Dr. Niles and the pills. She knew what her father would do and she didn’t want anything else bad to happen, even to someone who had hurt her -- she just wanted to put it behind her. She just wished she would stop seeing Lisa everywhere -- it seemed she would run into her on the docks every few days and she was always right behind her when she was grabbing a coffee at Kelley’s. It was like she couldn’t escape her. “Hi Kristina!” she would say brightly. “Have you heard back from Yale yet? Let me know if you need a refill on those herbal supplements.” Her face was so warm and friendly -- it was positively chilling how easily she lied.
Kristina had never confronted her. She didn’t know what Dr. Niles was trying to gain, she was scared of what would happen when she found out the jig was up.
She heard a rustle in the trees behind her and her heart slammed in her throat. Stop jumping out of your skin at every little thing, Kristina Adela, she chastised herself and then promptly screamed when she felt a big hand on her shoulder.
“Krissy?” And then she heard Ethan’s raspy drawl, and wanted to crumble in humiliation. Taking a shaky breath, she turned to him trying for a calm, easy smile. She didn’t fool him for a second. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Two difficult questions with two short answers. Too much to think about or she would go crazy, and no. “Ethan, will you walk me home?” she asked, hating how small her voice sounded.
A thousand questions ran through his eyes, but as always, Ethan never pressed for more than she could give. “Of course, sweetheart.” He fell into step next to her and with the warm, gentle pressure of his hand on the small of her back, Kristina felt her fear ebb and fall away, just enough.
Next
<<<333