Watercolor Wasteland
by lsquared

Note: This was meant to be a follow-up to scenes that aired on May 25, 2007 and Jerry's remark (about having only saved Alexis to keep Nikolas from being distracted by grief)

I’m kind of in a watercolor wasteland
The place you go to bow and pay the toll
A never-ending system of abrasions
Only there to control

The way you suck me up into a nightmare
The dirty way you cut me with a smile
I hate to admit how I love when you give it to me.
-Sarah Fimm

There had been very few times in the past year that Alexis felt like eating ice cream right from the carton or finishing off an entire bag of popcorn by herself. But she had worked up an appetite lying to the police commissioner about Jerry’s identity and resisting the urge to strangle her former brother-in-law with her bare hands. While Kristina was having an overnight with her brothers, it seemed like the perfect night for a bubble bath followed by a sugar binge.

Alexis had managed to soak in vanilla scented bubbles for almost an entire half hour before the phone rang. Fearing the worst, imagining either Sonny or Ric’s voice on the other end with upsetting news about one of her daughters, she stood quickly from the bath, the bubbles gathering and dripping down her legs. She wrapped herself in a towel and left a trail of soapy water to the phone.

“Yes, hello?” she answered, out of breath.

There was a long pause on the other end, only the low rasp of breath, and then finally, “Don’t hang up. You’re my one phone call.”

He handed the phone back to Mac Scorpio and reclaimed his seat at the table, dutifully holding his hands at the back of the chair. Jerry flinched at the sound of the handcuffs snapping shut. He shifted on the hard chair, restless until he found a way to sit that was the least painful for his bad shoulder.

“Someone is actually coming at,” Mac paused to look at his watch, “almost eleven o’clock at night for you?”

Jerry’s response was a tight lipped smile.

Mac shook his head, still unsure how to refer to the man in front of him. He tucked the file labeled James Craig under his arm and left the room.

Jerry released a deep breath and tilted his head back. He stared at the ceiling, at a brown water spot that had clearly been painted over rather than replaced with a new tile. He was reminded of the countless times he had been constrained with a terrible view – riding on a small plane, cramped in the back of a Jeep. There had been good views, too. He had spent many nights lying on the ground, staring up at a canvas of stars or waking to a watercolor sunset of oranges and pinks bleeding together.

He felt all the blood rush to his head and the muscles in his neck began to burn. Jerry sat up, watching the door, waiting.

She had grabbed the clothes that were most accessible at the time – jeans and a simple black T-shirt. Her wig was much more glamorous than her wardrobe, thick curls bouncing as she walked into the PCPD. Alexis was greeted by smiles and a lot of good to see you back here remarks until Mac called out, “You’re here for Mr. Craig?”

“For Jerry Jacks,” she corrected him, and the other officers and clerks retreated, shaking their heads. Alexis rolled her eyes; already she was being persecuted for giving him the time of day.

Mac waved her across the room. “He’s in here.”

Alexis followed him to the interrogation room. She stopped Mac from opening the door and said, “Is he restrained?”

“He’s wearing cuffs.”

“Will you let me go in alone then?”

Mac made a sucking sound with his teeth, considering her question. “Are you here as counsel or is this personal?”

“Does it really matter, Mac? You said yourself that he’s handcuffed.”

“Fine.” He pointed to the door and stepped to the side.

Alexis let herself in the room. It had been a while since she’d walked through the door into the rather clinical room with its pale colors and fluorescent lights. She tried to maintain her usual manner, the air of authority that took over when she went into lawyer mode; shoulders straight, head high. But there was something about the sight of him chained to that scrap of a chair that stole away her clout and revealed too much about how his smile had stirred her, how his attention had excited her.

She tried to cover by sounding as annoyed as possible. “This better be good, Jerry. You tore me away from a very nice bath,” Alexis scolded, immediately regretting her choice of words.

Jerry had smelled vanilla and sandalwood the minute Alexis opened the door. He inhaled the warm, musky scent and the corners of his mouth lifted. He bit his tongue, withholding the suggestive remark that seemed to naturally follow her comment. He even thought Alexis looked surprised that he said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

Alexis set her purse down. She folded her hands over the back of the other chair. “Why did you use me for your one phone call? Why not Jax or your mother? Or did they already wisely write you off?”

“I don’t need my brother or mother right now. I need a lawyer. A good one.”

Alexis shook her head. “I already told you at the Metro Court that I was not going to represent you. Nothing has changed.”

“Alexis,” he said, drawing her name out, his eyes roving from her face briefly to how snug her shirt was across her chest. “Why did you abandon your bath to come here when I called?”

She fidgeted under his stare and drew her arms around her chest. She stammered, finally settling on, “Old habits die hard. I’m a lawyer. It’s instinct to respond to a call like that.” Alexis punctuated her words with a nonchalant shrug.

He nodded slowly, absorbing her explanation, absorbing everything about her – the smell fresh on her clean skin, the one unruly strand of hair that poked upward from her wig. “I think it’s because you’re loyal. You love my brother and you know that no matter what he says, he’d want you to help me.”

“Jax doesn’t want me to do anything I don’t want to,” Alexis told him.

Jerry nodded his agreement. “Luckily for me, you want to help Jax. Helping Jax includes helping me.”

“Not this time, Jerry. Don’t think I’ve forgotten all the other times your brother has bailed you out of trouble, and all the times I had to represent him or you or the both of you together because of something you did.”

“I haven’t forgotten. The thing about small towns like Port Charles, Alexis, is that no matter how much change occurs, some things always stay the same. I called you tonight because I know it will take some time, but you’ll represent me. I say for the sake of expediency you just take my case now.”

Alexis shook her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “You may be my best friend’s brother, but you are also the man who held my family hostage and poisoned my nephew.” She picked up her purse and turned so suddenly for the door that she nearly pulled the chair with her.

“I also saved your life. More than once.”

She stood still. There were things she wanted to know, for herself and for Jax. She waited.

“I can pay you well, Alexis, but money is not all I have to offer. If you agree to take my case, whatever this inept department can come up with, I’ll fill you in on everything. Not all of it right away, but eventually. Isn’t that what you want? To understand so that you can help Jax understand how his brother became a monster? So you can understand how you felt safe around me, how you let me-”

Alexis turned back toward him. “Stop,” she interrupted.

The door opened and Mac’s shadow fell across the table. “It’s late,” he said. “I can’t allow you to stay if you’re not counsel, Alexis. This either needs to be official or we’re moving him to a cell.”

“What has he even been charged with, Mac? He’s not James Craig.”

“That has yet to be proven. DNA tests are pending.” Mac added, “I’m serious, Alexis. You need to leave. Are you or are you not his lawyer?”

Alexis looked from him to Jerry and then straight ahead at the wall. “I’m representing Mr. Jacks,” she said. “We need more time and I want to be here when the results come in so I can get my client released. First, we need a fresh pot of coffee in here. And I’d like you to remove the cuffs. My client has a bad shoulder and he’s clearly in pain. He’s not been formally charged, so there’s no reason for restraints.”

Jerry worked the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. He rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had left red welts. He watched Alexis pour a cup of coffee for herself, nervously chewing on the Styrofoam rather than drinking the steaming liquid.

“Can I get one of those?” he asked.

“Help yourself.”

Instead, Jerry circled the table and sat on the edge, close enough to Alexis that she took a few steps back. He felt looser and his posture had relaxed. Ever since he admitted to his true identity, Alexis thought she saw more and more of the Jerry she remembered. He was becoming a bit more rugged, whereas Mr. Brosnan had been more polite and refined. This version, the one sitting on the table with his arm slung across his lap, she could see traipsing through the Outback with a younger Jax, and navigating the Sahara as he once had to rescue her.

“You know,” she said, drifting back to the memory of a sandy cave, “the garden at Wyndemere wasn’t the first time you played hero. You helped find me and Jax when our helicopter crashed in the Sahara.”

Jerry’s eyes brightened. “That’s right,” he said, sitting up, leaning forward.

For a moment they were like two old friends sharing a memory. Jerry was about to say something about the sandstorm she had braved, but Alexis went back into lawyer mode. “Okay, we have to set some ground rules here,” she told him. She gave his thigh a nudge until he stood from the table and took his seat on the other side. She sat down herself, still holding her cup of coffee.

“How much longer can they hold me without any charges?” Jerry wanted to know. He stretched his arms across the table, glad to be unrestrained.

Alexis ignored his question. “I’m only doing this for Jax. If at any time I feel that representing you is going to cause too much harm to Jax or my family, I will quit your case. If I find out that everything you tell me is a lie, I will tell you to find a new lawyer. I expect you to be honest with me, Jerry. We’re protected by lawyer-client privilege, so there is no reason for you to be withholding. You promised answers.”

“You’ll get them,” he said. “But, you know, I doubt they’ll be able to come up with charges. All of this is probably unnecessary.”

They sat across from each other at the table in near silence, listening to the tick of the clock and the tap of Alexis’ nails. She picked at the coffee cup, littering the table with flecks of white foam. Mac knocked periodically, offering the same update on the status of the DNA test; the lab was backed up.

Jerry felt suffocated by the small space, the drab colors. The sound of his chair scooting back was so sudden and loud that Alexis jumped in her seat. She remained sitting while he paced a couple of times. He settled on her side of the table, sitting on the edge, his right leg brushing her knee. “One question,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m bored,” he told her. “Ask me one question. What do you want to know?”

Alexis considered the possibilities. Clearly, she wanted to know all of the whys and hows. She wanted to know what happened to put Jerry in the position of working with Alcazar and taking hostages at his brother’s hotel, what had led to his plastic surgery. But she asked, “Why were you so cruel earlier, at Wyndemere? Why did you say that the only reason you didn’t leave me to die in the garden is because Nikolas would have been distracted by grief?”

Jerry looked down at her, his eyes soft and surprised. “You don’t believe that is true?”

She made a move to get up but stayed in her chair, pointing her knees to the side, almost touching him. She felt locked in by his eyes, held down by the nearness of him. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and he saw a flash of fear in her eyes that was unsettling. “This is all so hard to reconcile because I don’t remember you being so cruel when I was married to Jax.”

“I’ve changed.”

“Clearly.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. Alexis felt uncomfortable; he seemed far away, and she suddenly felt that she was intruding on a private moment.

Jerry looked down at her and said, “The day you walked into Wyndemere, when I first introduced myself as James Brosnan, I was genuinely perplexed. I hadn’t bargained on you showing up. I’m not sure how I managed to let that possibility slip by. I knew of your ties to Nikolas. If anyone else had come through those doors unexpected, I would have had to find a way to… dispose of the problem.” Alexis flinched on the word dispose and Jerry felt ill at her reaction. “But I saw you and remembered so vividly how you loved my family. How good you were to my parents and how through all these years that I couldn’t be there for my brother, you were. And how he loves you in return.”

At some point during Jerry’s explanation, Alexis had put her palm flat on the table. The edge of his hand pressed to the tips of her fingers.

“That day,” he went on, “I didn’t want you to leave. I saw an opportunity to reinvent myself yet again. I saw a chance to be more myself than James Craig or Brosnan.”

Alexis felt their one point of contact, their hands, all the way up her arm, down her spine. Her blood rushed, her heart raced. She listened intently and was afraid to move.

“If you had stayed, I think I very well could have told you the truth about who I was. But you wanted to know why I was cruel earlier today? I guess that was the James Craig in me talking. You see, he’s as much a part of me as Jerry. But those times it was just the two of us, or your daughter, I felt like Jerry again.” He trailed off. He was shaking, and Alexis covered his hand with hers and felt him go still.

The door opened and Alexis withdrew her hand, standing up.

A uniformed officer followed behind Mac. “The results came in,” Mac announced, handing Alexis a legal document. The officer stood behind Jerry, roughly tugging his arms back, and Mac said, “Jerry Jacks, you’re under arrest.”

“You can’t do this,” Alexis said. “Jerry Jacks has not committed a crime.” She felt small under the weight of Mac’s scrutinizing stare. She felt him asking how she could do this, how she could yet again let a criminal sweet talk her into being his mouthpiece.

“The DNA test proves that Jerry Jacks is James Craig. We’re taking him to a cell.”

Alexis listened to Mac read Jerry his rights. When he was through, she told Jerry, “I’ll come back in the morning. I’ll make some calls tonight.”

Jerry twisted to look back at her despite the burning in his shoulder. He felt himself, the James Craig in him, about to say something spiteful and sarcastic. He opted for silence.

“Don’t say anything to anyone,” she warned. She watched him be dragged away and could still feel the heat of his skin where she’d held his hand. When Jerry stopped just outside the door and looked back at her again, she waited expectantly for what he’d say. But he used the seconds before the officer yanked him down to the basement to memorize Alexis’ face, to get one last breath of vanilla musk, to hold onto the colors and sounds and smells to keep him company while he spent the night on a cot, staring up at a grainy, cement ceiling.