Author's Note: Well, my little Muse seems to be in high gear. This general scenario has been in my head for a while...although I'm still working out
the details of how exactly it will unfold - I don't envision it being too long. Famous last words?
I'll also admit that I'm a bit drawn to darker stories at times….but I hope you enjoy. I'm still very much a novice, so feedback is always appreciated! :-)
Tar·ta·rus
n.
1. Greek Mythology The abysmal regional below Hades where the Titans were confined.
2. An infernal region; hell.
Source: American Heritage Dictionary
"…So we need to test as many members of both your families as possible to increase our chances of finding a match. I'd advise having this done as soon as possible." Robin took a breath, finding it difficult to talk to two people she considered friends about a topic so close to her own heart after the birth of her daughter.
"We're going to do everything in our power to make your little boy healthy. This really is his best chance of recovery and leading a full and productive life." Her voice was sympathetic, and it was a familiar tone to a nurse who had heard it used by doctors many times before.
Elizabeth sat in a daze, still processing the horrifying news that one of her closest friends had just delivered. For all the years she had worked as a nurse, and seen the tragic cases of children fighting disease, it felt unreal to find herself on the receiving end of this conversation.
She was shaken from her somber reflections by the violent scraping of metal on the antiseptic linoleum floor. Her head jerked up, and she saw the chair beside her on its side and the tortured face of her ex-husband and one-time love. Many emotions played across his face, but anger and frustration were dominant.
"Well, Elizabeth," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "perhaps you want to explain to Dr. Scorpio why testing all the Spencers in the world isn't going to do a damn bit of good for Jake?" He bit out this sentence with contempt, before turning abruptly towards the doorway.
The slam of the door to Robin's office was still reverberating in her ears when she met Robin's questioning gaze. Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes with resignation. For the past two years, Lucky had increasingly had trouble suppressing the bubbling resentment he harbored for his ex-wife. He had always tried to conceal it in front of the boys, but she knew as Cameron and Jake got older, they would slowly understand the seething feelings that remained unabated between Lucky and their mother.
If he hadn't been the only father figure for her sons over the painful years following her final break with Jason, she would have attempted to separate them from the vengeful Spencer. Maybe that too had been yet another in a long line of wrong decisions, but she had tried…tried so very hard to do the right thing for her sons amidst the turmoil of her life.
Robin continued to look at her, her eyebrow slightly raised. Elizabeth thought she saw a flicker of understanding in Robin's eyes. Preempting questions for someone who knew all to well the weaknesses within her own heart - they were ones she had once harbored as well, she spoke quietly, "I'll take care of it." Robin nodded slightly, knowing that this wasn't the time or place to press her friend. Elizabeth was going to have a tough enough time facing her past, a past she had thought, hoped, she had left far behind two years earlier.
*********
The guards were no longer the friendly faces from years before. If Max and Milo were still in the organization, it seemed they no longer pulled guard duty at the coffeehouse. She privately hoped that they had moved on, not wanting to read some achingly familiar obituary on either brother one day. Elizabeth looked at the large, dark-haired man who stood in front of the doorway to the back office. His face was hard, his mouth a sharp line across the lower half of his face. As she approached, his eyes scanned her small frame, not with lascivious intentions but in a cold, calculating appraisal. Threat? It was clear that in his estimation there were no "non-threats", only threats and potential threats.
Elizabeth cleared her throat as he finished his clinical assessment of her, "I..I'd like to see Mr. Morgan, please." That did raise an eyebrow, a smirk quickly followed. Perhaps he thought she was yet another one of the seemingly countless women drawn to Morgan and his world. Elizabeth knew that the danger was an intoxicating aphrodisiac for many, even for her once upon a time if she were honest.
"Who may I ask would like to see him?" His voice was doubtful. Elizabeth guessed she didn't meet the normal profile for Jason Morgan's companions. There was some small comfort that he hadn't attempted to replace her with some trampy doppelganger. No, she imagined he tended towards the blondes for that type of relationship.
"Elizabeth, Elizabeth Webber." Her voice quivered slightly. Suddenly, this all seemed like a dream, some terrible nightmare from which there was no escape. She wanted to run, bolt from the dark nothingness that this place and everything that touched it represented, embodied like a living thing.
But there was no running. No hiding. She had been an expert at both, but every fiber of her body willed her to stand there, unmoving, as the guard turned and spoke to a disembodied voice in the room behind him.
He turned, his face returning to impassivity, and held the door open. "You can go in."
And that was it. Into the lion's den. Or worse, her own realm of hell.
**********
As Elizabeth entered, her eyes scanned the dim room. It hadn't changed much in two years. The only things missing were some of the personal touches, pictures of beloved family members, which had once reflected the concerns closest to the owner's heart. The current bareness of the room, and its implications, did not escape her notice.
Finally, her eyes came to rest on the man seated behind the mahogany desk. He had not raised his head when she entered, had yet to acknowledge her presence. His face remained masked to her, but she ached with the familiarity of his bent head, the broad shoulders that filled out the black button-down he was wearing. He continued to read the letter in front of him, and Elizabeth remained silent, waiting.
Slowly, as if only barely interested in the intrusion into his personal office, Jason raised his head to face Elizabeth. Her breath caught in her throat. His face was perhaps slightly more aged than she remembered, but he was her Jason. The Jason who had held her heart for all those years, who had held their son while smiling with joy, who had wept in her arms over the little boy he had raised. But the deep, crystal-blue eyes that had sparkled when he was with her before were now cold and dead. She felt she was looking through him, into whatever was left of his soul, and there was nothing. He held her gaze, and she shivered with the automatic reflex of a prey when remorselessly appraised by the predator.
He said nothing as he stood, dark gray slacks outlining a trim, athletic build, and slowly moved to the small bar that held a decanter of amber liquid. He poured himself a drink, and then turned to her, his face unreadable. "What do you want, Elizabeth?"
The sound of his voice slid over her, causing small goose bumps to form on her arms and down her spine. His voice had changed, it now held authority and dripped with lethality. Perhaps he had always possessed this voice, but he never used it with her. It cleared her mind of the memories that had tried to overwhelm her at the initial sight of him. This was Jason Morgan, enigmatic head of the powerful Morgan organization and one of the most feared mafia dons on the East Coast.
The Lizzie that still lived in her searched for a large, gold signet ring on his hands, wanting to make a sardonic comment about kissing the ring. But the older, wiser Elizabeth realized that this would be a mistake, a grave affront to a man who might not kill her, but would make a very dangerous enemy.
For two years, Elizabeth had avoided crossing his path at all costs. It wasn't that hard. He had become a near recluse, a shadowy figure controlling the crime syndicate in Port Charles and a large swath of the state through loyal intermediaries. Few had chosen to cross him; those who had quickly learned the finality of their error.
Jason continued to wait, his body still, glass unmoving in his hand. He showed no impatience, no curiosity.
Given the mission Elizabeth was on, his lack of emotion at seeing her after two years, lack of concern over her or their son stung her and finally moved her to speak.
"Jake is sick." There. It was spoken out loud. Elizabeth realized it was also the first time she had admitted this awful truth out loud since Robin's final prognosis.
Nothing prepared her for the answer she received. "I know." He said dryly, finally turning from her, the glass and amber liquid raised to his lips. He moved back toward his desk, a metaphorical barrier between them.
"You…you know? How?" She stumbled. The little speech she had practiced in her head, preparing for this moment, was now useless. She felt adrift on a swift current out of her control.
A shadow of a smile crossed his face; it didn't reach his eyes and quickly faded. "Did you think that I wouldn't be aware that my son was in the hospital? That he had been diagnosed with leukemia?"
Elizabeth gasped slightly. She had only just heard his diagnosis that morning. That his reach extended even to the hospital, which she had thought of as her world, chilled her. But she should have known. She had underestimated him, apparently, in more ways than one.
"How much do…do you know already?" The conversation was already careening out of her control. She just needed one promise, one pledge, and she could flee his cold, dark presence.
"I know why you are here." Jason placed the glass back on the desk, and raised his eyes to her. "I guess Lucky can't be the perfect father in all ways," he sneered.
The irony of the statement didn't escape Elizabeth. Lucky had never been the perfect father that at one point in her life she dreamed he would be. And he had increasingly become a malignant force in her life. She couldn't help but answer "No," her eyes falling from his.
She heard him snort at her answer. Now, she had to press him now. "Will you help?" She couldn't keep the desperation out of her voice. She would do whatever it took: beg, plead, throw herself on his mercy...if there was any.
"I already have. Despite your views of me, I have always watched over Jake. I always will. And I will protect him however I see fit."
Elizabeth knew there was a threat, perhaps several, implicit in his statement. But she clung to the portion that gave her hope. "Already have?" Her voice now broke, her eyes filling with unwelcome tears. She would not cry in front of him.
"I've been in contact with Robin. It will be taken care of." His voice was even now, back in control. She was stunned. He had contacted Robin, after years of anonymity as Jake's father...he had in one day unraveled it all? And without her knowledge?
It seemed that one trait had not changed since their friendlier days: he could read her mind. "I said that I would do whatever it took to protect him. I meant it."
Elizabeth could only nod, spoken gratitude seemed out of place with the tension that crackled between them.
She turned to leave, hoping to avoid any possibility of opening up old wounds best forgotten.
"Oh, and Elizabeth?" His voice was now dark and lethal. "Get him away from my son, or I will…"
Without turning back to him and with that promise echoing in her ears, she opened the door with trembling hands and left.
**********
To be continued….
I'll also admit that I'm a bit drawn to darker stories at times….but I hope you enjoy. I'm still very much a novice, so feedback is always appreciated! :-)
Tar·ta·rus
n.
1. Greek Mythology The abysmal regional below Hades where the Titans were confined.
2. An infernal region; hell.
Source: American Heritage Dictionary
"…So we need to test as many members of both your families as possible to increase our chances of finding a match. I'd advise having this done as soon as possible." Robin took a breath, finding it difficult to talk to two people she considered friends about a topic so close to her own heart after the birth of her daughter.
"We're going to do everything in our power to make your little boy healthy. This really is his best chance of recovery and leading a full and productive life." Her voice was sympathetic, and it was a familiar tone to a nurse who had heard it used by doctors many times before.
Elizabeth sat in a daze, still processing the horrifying news that one of her closest friends had just delivered. For all the years she had worked as a nurse, and seen the tragic cases of children fighting disease, it felt unreal to find herself on the receiving end of this conversation.
She was shaken from her somber reflections by the violent scraping of metal on the antiseptic linoleum floor. Her head jerked up, and she saw the chair beside her on its side and the tortured face of her ex-husband and one-time love. Many emotions played across his face, but anger and frustration were dominant.
"Well, Elizabeth," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "perhaps you want to explain to Dr. Scorpio why testing all the Spencers in the world isn't going to do a damn bit of good for Jake?" He bit out this sentence with contempt, before turning abruptly towards the doorway.
The slam of the door to Robin's office was still reverberating in her ears when she met Robin's questioning gaze. Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes with resignation. For the past two years, Lucky had increasingly had trouble suppressing the bubbling resentment he harbored for his ex-wife. He had always tried to conceal it in front of the boys, but she knew as Cameron and Jake got older, they would slowly understand the seething feelings that remained unabated between Lucky and their mother.
If he hadn't been the only father figure for her sons over the painful years following her final break with Jason, she would have attempted to separate them from the vengeful Spencer. Maybe that too had been yet another in a long line of wrong decisions, but she had tried…tried so very hard to do the right thing for her sons amidst the turmoil of her life.
Robin continued to look at her, her eyebrow slightly raised. Elizabeth thought she saw a flicker of understanding in Robin's eyes. Preempting questions for someone who knew all to well the weaknesses within her own heart - they were ones she had once harbored as well, she spoke quietly, "I'll take care of it." Robin nodded slightly, knowing that this wasn't the time or place to press her friend. Elizabeth was going to have a tough enough time facing her past, a past she had thought, hoped, she had left far behind two years earlier.
*********
The guards were no longer the friendly faces from years before. If Max and Milo were still in the organization, it seemed they no longer pulled guard duty at the coffeehouse. She privately hoped that they had moved on, not wanting to read some achingly familiar obituary on either brother one day. Elizabeth looked at the large, dark-haired man who stood in front of the doorway to the back office. His face was hard, his mouth a sharp line across the lower half of his face. As she approached, his eyes scanned her small frame, not with lascivious intentions but in a cold, calculating appraisal. Threat? It was clear that in his estimation there were no "non-threats", only threats and potential threats.
Elizabeth cleared her throat as he finished his clinical assessment of her, "I..I'd like to see Mr. Morgan, please." That did raise an eyebrow, a smirk quickly followed. Perhaps he thought she was yet another one of the seemingly countless women drawn to Morgan and his world. Elizabeth knew that the danger was an intoxicating aphrodisiac for many, even for her once upon a time if she were honest.
"Who may I ask would like to see him?" His voice was doubtful. Elizabeth guessed she didn't meet the normal profile for Jason Morgan's companions. There was some small comfort that he hadn't attempted to replace her with some trampy doppelganger. No, she imagined he tended towards the blondes for that type of relationship.
"Elizabeth, Elizabeth Webber." Her voice quivered slightly. Suddenly, this all seemed like a dream, some terrible nightmare from which there was no escape. She wanted to run, bolt from the dark nothingness that this place and everything that touched it represented, embodied like a living thing.
But there was no running. No hiding. She had been an expert at both, but every fiber of her body willed her to stand there, unmoving, as the guard turned and spoke to a disembodied voice in the room behind him.
He turned, his face returning to impassivity, and held the door open. "You can go in."
And that was it. Into the lion's den. Or worse, her own realm of hell.
**********
As Elizabeth entered, her eyes scanned the dim room. It hadn't changed much in two years. The only things missing were some of the personal touches, pictures of beloved family members, which had once reflected the concerns closest to the owner's heart. The current bareness of the room, and its implications, did not escape her notice.
Finally, her eyes came to rest on the man seated behind the mahogany desk. He had not raised his head when she entered, had yet to acknowledge her presence. His face remained masked to her, but she ached with the familiarity of his bent head, the broad shoulders that filled out the black button-down he was wearing. He continued to read the letter in front of him, and Elizabeth remained silent, waiting.
Slowly, as if only barely interested in the intrusion into his personal office, Jason raised his head to face Elizabeth. Her breath caught in her throat. His face was perhaps slightly more aged than she remembered, but he was her Jason. The Jason who had held her heart for all those years, who had held their son while smiling with joy, who had wept in her arms over the little boy he had raised. But the deep, crystal-blue eyes that had sparkled when he was with her before were now cold and dead. She felt she was looking through him, into whatever was left of his soul, and there was nothing. He held her gaze, and she shivered with the automatic reflex of a prey when remorselessly appraised by the predator.
He said nothing as he stood, dark gray slacks outlining a trim, athletic build, and slowly moved to the small bar that held a decanter of amber liquid. He poured himself a drink, and then turned to her, his face unreadable. "What do you want, Elizabeth?"
The sound of his voice slid over her, causing small goose bumps to form on her arms and down her spine. His voice had changed, it now held authority and dripped with lethality. Perhaps he had always possessed this voice, but he never used it with her. It cleared her mind of the memories that had tried to overwhelm her at the initial sight of him. This was Jason Morgan, enigmatic head of the powerful Morgan organization and one of the most feared mafia dons on the East Coast.
The Lizzie that still lived in her searched for a large, gold signet ring on his hands, wanting to make a sardonic comment about kissing the ring. But the older, wiser Elizabeth realized that this would be a mistake, a grave affront to a man who might not kill her, but would make a very dangerous enemy.
For two years, Elizabeth had avoided crossing his path at all costs. It wasn't that hard. He had become a near recluse, a shadowy figure controlling the crime syndicate in Port Charles and a large swath of the state through loyal intermediaries. Few had chosen to cross him; those who had quickly learned the finality of their error.
Jason continued to wait, his body still, glass unmoving in his hand. He showed no impatience, no curiosity.
Given the mission Elizabeth was on, his lack of emotion at seeing her after two years, lack of concern over her or their son stung her and finally moved her to speak.
"Jake is sick." There. It was spoken out loud. Elizabeth realized it was also the first time she had admitted this awful truth out loud since Robin's final prognosis.
Nothing prepared her for the answer she received. "I know." He said dryly, finally turning from her, the glass and amber liquid raised to his lips. He moved back toward his desk, a metaphorical barrier between them.
"You…you know? How?" She stumbled. The little speech she had practiced in her head, preparing for this moment, was now useless. She felt adrift on a swift current out of her control.
A shadow of a smile crossed his face; it didn't reach his eyes and quickly faded. "Did you think that I wouldn't be aware that my son was in the hospital? That he had been diagnosed with leukemia?"
Elizabeth gasped slightly. She had only just heard his diagnosis that morning. That his reach extended even to the hospital, which she had thought of as her world, chilled her. But she should have known. She had underestimated him, apparently, in more ways than one.
"How much do…do you know already?" The conversation was already careening out of her control. She just needed one promise, one pledge, and she could flee his cold, dark presence.
"I know why you are here." Jason placed the glass back on the desk, and raised his eyes to her. "I guess Lucky can't be the perfect father in all ways," he sneered.
The irony of the statement didn't escape Elizabeth. Lucky had never been the perfect father that at one point in her life she dreamed he would be. And he had increasingly become a malignant force in her life. She couldn't help but answer "No," her eyes falling from his.
She heard him snort at her answer. Now, she had to press him now. "Will you help?" She couldn't keep the desperation out of her voice. She would do whatever it took: beg, plead, throw herself on his mercy...if there was any.
"I already have. Despite your views of me, I have always watched over Jake. I always will. And I will protect him however I see fit."
Elizabeth knew there was a threat, perhaps several, implicit in his statement. But she clung to the portion that gave her hope. "Already have?" Her voice now broke, her eyes filling with unwelcome tears. She would not cry in front of him.
"I've been in contact with Robin. It will be taken care of." His voice was even now, back in control. She was stunned. He had contacted Robin, after years of anonymity as Jake's father...he had in one day unraveled it all? And without her knowledge?
It seemed that one trait had not changed since their friendlier days: he could read her mind. "I said that I would do whatever it took to protect him. I meant it."
Elizabeth could only nod, spoken gratitude seemed out of place with the tension that crackled between them.
She turned to leave, hoping to avoid any possibility of opening up old wounds best forgotten.
"Oh, and Elizabeth?" His voice was now dark and lethal. "Get him away from my son, or I will…"
Without turning back to him and with that promise echoing in her ears, she opened the door with trembling hands and left.
**********
To be continued….
hope that way you are going... he need his family he seem lonely no pictures it
sad...Update soon!!!!
