Title: "Scar Tissue"
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: SAC, second person pov, angst, slash, Zander/Jason
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but I do so heart Chad Brannon.
Summary: A sequel to "Hurts So Good" (http://ats.malisita.com/zanderjason.html ) . Now that Jason has a steady,
non-abusive, relationship, all bad things must come to an end.
The wet towel drops to the floor like a heavy flag signalling the end of a
race. "This stops tonight," he says, back turned to you as he pulls his
jeans over his lean hips and buttons them up. "We...have to end this."
You nod before you realize he can't see it. "I know," you whisper,
twisting around in the sheets and checking the clock on the nightstand. 8:26 p.m. The numbers curve and you remember the sensation of your blunt nails digging into his back, leaving half-moons that would fade after a few minutes...and how they looked next to the fresher scars of long, manicured, nails that you didn't leave. Couldn't leave.
He hasn't hit you in weeks. No cuffing you against the door, dragging
your head back with that urgency, that pent-up rage. No tripping you so
you fall, face-first, into bed and he can pin you to the mattress with the
point of his knee.
He's not angry anymore.
So, yeah. This stops tonight.
You're not surprised.
Sometimes, when he slips into the dingy room above Jake's, you smell her light, floral, perfume. Or there are long, blond hairs clinging to his
jacket. You huffed and told him to stay away from Elizabeth when you saw
him outside the door to Kelly's, but what you really meant was "don't leave
me" and you just didn't want it overheard by either of the women who
couldn't possibly know...who couldn't possibly know that, all along, there
was someone else who wanted Jason, who Jason wanted back.
But that's changed now. You're no competition for Courtney and her
softness. For the skin your lover will never bruise or break.
Nobody wants you for long. That's no surprise either. Your own father
kicked you out. Why shouldn't the man who is turning to you now with a
stranger's ice blue eyes? No passion in them anymore, no fury. Before, he
at least wanted to hurt you. Now, he wants nothing from you.
You still want everything from him.
"Jason..." You untangle from the sheets, from the smell of him, and reach for your own clothes, dressing slowly...because you know this is the last
time you will ever be naked and defenseless in front of him. "Jason, I..."
"Shut up, Zander!" he says, sharply, gesturing fiercely with his hand.
And it's so familiar, so distinctly part of this, that your eyes start to sting. You swallow hard, nod as you pull the shirt over your head and
smooth it down. Tomorrow, tomorrow, you'll be the up-and-coming corporate
errand boy again...only with one less secret.
He's the only one you ever *wanted* to keep.
When you're both fully dressed, he gives a tiny nod. An allowance. And you tug him close to you, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands
cradle your head like he's going to snap it sideways, *truly* end this, but
he doesn't give you that brief bit of respite. He doesn't make it that easy.
He washed your scent from his skin, picked all the dark hairs from his
t-shirt. There are no traces of you left except in *this*. No one has
ever kissed you like Jason Morgan. Every kiss is as powerful as his
fists. Knocking you backwards, breaking your bones, breaking your stupid,
little heart. And this one...full of clashing teeth, bitten tongue, and
You fell. So hard.
Now, it's time for you to get back up again.
As the door slams shut behind him, you wipe the blood from your chin with your raw knuckles and choke up the words you didn't get the chance to finish.
"Jason, I...hate you."
You hate him.
For making you love him.
For making sure no one else ever comes close.
For making sure you never really heal.
January 14, 2003.