Daddy
Title: Daddy
Author: speedy
Fandom: General Hospital
Rating: PG
Summary: Maxie reflects on her father after his death.
Disclaimer: I'm not the Rat, so obviously the characters aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for awhile.
Notes: Just moving this over from my now defunct website. This was written in fall of 2004. Lyrics are "Daddy Can You See Me" by Anita Cochran.
Daddy, can you see me?
Daddy, can you hear the words I say?
I've got your hands
Your eyes and your hair
And this thing you call a teddy bear.
I'll do what I can to make you proud,
Daddy, can you see me now?
Maxie Jones stared blankly at the coffin in front of her. The cold wind was blowing hard around her, reaching under her skirt and seeping through the buttons of her wool coat, but she didn't feel it. She just felt numb. In place of her heart was a giant void. Part of her just couldn't believe it was true. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't be. A tear slid silently down her cheek, unnoticed.
In the flower arrangement on top of casket, sat an old photo, framed and matted with a small, engraved plaque along the bottom and a simple inscription.
Andrew Jones Jr.
1962-2004
Rest In Peace, Frisco.
The photo was one from his singing days. He looked so young, so... innocent. Not the troubled soul she remembered, that always hid behind a smile and a quick joke. The man that had seen the darkest sides of life and had walked away from his family to try to protect them from all that was evil in the world.
Saving the world. He'd always made it sound like such a simple thing, but she had no doubts he believed it. Worthless belief now.
She had tried so hard to hate him for leaving, but her heart sang every time he called, visited, sent one of his silly postcards or a gift from whatever exotic locale he working at the time. He always managed to draw her back in, make her feel so loved, like she was the only thing in his life. It was always so easy for him to sweet talk her, no matter how much she fought it. As her mother had told her, hating him was easy, it was loving him that hurt so damn much. And she did love him.
She loved Mac with everything she had, he was the absolute best parent anyone could ask for, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't her father. He wasn't Frisco.
The tears finally came, but she made no move to wipe them away.
This was expected, a terrible reality of the life her father had chosen, that one day they might get the call saying he would never be coming home. But not like this, never like this.
It wasn't his job that had killed him. It wasn't a mass murderer or a mad man; an arms dealer or drug trafficker; a terrorist, an enemy soldier, or spy gone bad... Just some idiot that thought it would be a good idea to drive home in a snowstorm after a drinking binge and then leave a man to die on a lonely two lane road when he was so close to home.
He'd been working in Montreal when he got the chance to use some long overdue vacation time. He would've been home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, the first time he would've been home for either holiday, much less both, since she was a baby. He'd just packed up his things and hopped in a car as soon as his leave was approved, not wanting to take the time to call and tell anyone he was coming out of fear that he might be called back before he reached Port Charles.
The temperature had plunged and snow had fallen heavily, making the roads hazardous. From what the police could tell, he had been taking his time, trying to drive safely in the terrible conditions. A drunk in a big truck crossed into his lane. He swerved to avoid a collision, but the truck clipped the back end of his car and sent him into a tree. The truck drove off, no evidence the guy even got out to check the driver of the car he'd just hit.
Maxie's hair blew around in the wind, sticking to her now soaking wet cheeks.
Death had been far from instantaneous. The medical examiner guessed that he was conscious after the impact, but severely injured. Had the idiot in the truck gotten help right away, he might have lived. Instead, he had slowly bled to death, unable to reach his cell phone and summon help himself.
He'd known he was going to die, that was what hurt the most.
It was two days later that Mac had pulled her and Georgie out of school to tell them that their father was dead. Neither she or her sister knew how to react to the news. Uncle Tony had gone to identify the body, even though the WSB had already verified it through DNA. He had gone so far to set up another DNA test once the body was back in Port Charles, just to be sure it was really him. He'd been believed to be dead once before, body and everything. But both tests had told the same story, it was him, no question.
After cheating death so many times in a treacherous profession, it was an unlucky twist of fate, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that had finally claimed his life.
After two days of emptiness, reality was finally sinking in. She would never see her father again. He would never sing her to sleep over the phone again, make her smile when she was angry at him, flash her that cocky grin and tell her not to blow anything up while he was away making the world a better place for his little girls.
As Maxie stood, watching as her father's casket was lowered into the cold vault. He was home for good this time. He would never leave. He would forever be beside BJ and Tania, here in a Port Charles cemetery. What she'd always wanted, but not like this.
Frisco Jones was dead and nothing could bring him back this time.
"Daddy," she cried softly as the sobs overtook her.
Strong arms wrapped around her and she gave in. Gave in to the broken heart, to the grief, to her anger. She let herself keep the deluded belief that the arms comforting her were his, but she knew they weren't. The soft voice in her ears had a slight Australian accent.
"It's going to be okay, Maxie."
"No, it's not okay, Mac."
Not until the bastard responsible had paid for this. And she would make sure he did. She would see that the bastard spent the rest of his life in prison for his criminal stupidity.
She pulled away from Mac and wiped the tears from her face. She glanced around, with a new resolve. Her mother was comforting her sister and holding back her own tears. Lucas had an arm around a tearful Aunt Bobbie. Uncle Tony stood alone, devastated. In that moment, she knew what she had to do.
Justice, that was the last gift Maxie could give her father, her family. Whatever it took, however long, she would not fail. It just wasn't an option. She'd tap every resource the PCPD or the WSB had. She would get justice for her father's death, no matter the cost.
With this promise to herself, a load began to lift from her heart. Not even close to completely, but it was a beginning.
Author: speedy
Fandom: General Hospital
Rating: PG
Summary: Maxie reflects on her father after his death.
Disclaimer: I'm not the Rat, so obviously the characters aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for awhile.
Notes: Just moving this over from my now defunct website. This was written in fall of 2004. Lyrics are "Daddy Can You See Me" by Anita Cochran.
Daddy, can you see me?
Daddy, can you hear the words I say?
I've got your hands
Your eyes and your hair
And this thing you call a teddy bear.
I'll do what I can to make you proud,
Daddy, can you see me now?
Maxie Jones stared blankly at the coffin in front of her. The cold wind was blowing hard around her, reaching under her skirt and seeping through the buttons of her wool coat, but she didn't feel it. She just felt numb. In place of her heart was a giant void. Part of her just couldn't believe it was true. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't be. A tear slid silently down her cheek, unnoticed.
In the flower arrangement on top of casket, sat an old photo, framed and matted with a small, engraved plaque along the bottom and a simple inscription.
Andrew Jones Jr.
1962-2004
Rest In Peace, Frisco.
The photo was one from his singing days. He looked so young, so... innocent. Not the troubled soul she remembered, that always hid behind a smile and a quick joke. The man that had seen the darkest sides of life and had walked away from his family to try to protect them from all that was evil in the world.
Saving the world. He'd always made it sound like such a simple thing, but she had no doubts he believed it. Worthless belief now.
She had tried so hard to hate him for leaving, but her heart sang every time he called, visited, sent one of his silly postcards or a gift from whatever exotic locale he working at the time. He always managed to draw her back in, make her feel so loved, like she was the only thing in his life. It was always so easy for him to sweet talk her, no matter how much she fought it. As her mother had told her, hating him was easy, it was loving him that hurt so damn much. And she did love him.
She loved Mac with everything she had, he was the absolute best parent anyone could ask for, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't her father. He wasn't Frisco.
The tears finally came, but she made no move to wipe them away.
This was expected, a terrible reality of the life her father had chosen, that one day they might get the call saying he would never be coming home. But not like this, never like this.
It wasn't his job that had killed him. It wasn't a mass murderer or a mad man; an arms dealer or drug trafficker; a terrorist, an enemy soldier, or spy gone bad... Just some idiot that thought it would be a good idea to drive home in a snowstorm after a drinking binge and then leave a man to die on a lonely two lane road when he was so close to home.
He'd been working in Montreal when he got the chance to use some long overdue vacation time. He would've been home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, the first time he would've been home for either holiday, much less both, since she was a baby. He'd just packed up his things and hopped in a car as soon as his leave was approved, not wanting to take the time to call and tell anyone he was coming out of fear that he might be called back before he reached Port Charles.
The temperature had plunged and snow had fallen heavily, making the roads hazardous. From what the police could tell, he had been taking his time, trying to drive safely in the terrible conditions. A drunk in a big truck crossed into his lane. He swerved to avoid a collision, but the truck clipped the back end of his car and sent him into a tree. The truck drove off, no evidence the guy even got out to check the driver of the car he'd just hit.
Maxie's hair blew around in the wind, sticking to her now soaking wet cheeks.
Death had been far from instantaneous. The medical examiner guessed that he was conscious after the impact, but severely injured. Had the idiot in the truck gotten help right away, he might have lived. Instead, he had slowly bled to death, unable to reach his cell phone and summon help himself.
He'd known he was going to die, that was what hurt the most.
It was two days later that Mac had pulled her and Georgie out of school to tell them that their father was dead. Neither she or her sister knew how to react to the news. Uncle Tony had gone to identify the body, even though the WSB had already verified it through DNA. He had gone so far to set up another DNA test once the body was back in Port Charles, just to be sure it was really him. He'd been believed to be dead once before, body and everything. But both tests had told the same story, it was him, no question.
After cheating death so many times in a treacherous profession, it was an unlucky twist of fate, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that had finally claimed his life.
After two days of emptiness, reality was finally sinking in. She would never see her father again. He would never sing her to sleep over the phone again, make her smile when she was angry at him, flash her that cocky grin and tell her not to blow anything up while he was away making the world a better place for his little girls.
As Maxie stood, watching as her father's casket was lowered into the cold vault. He was home for good this time. He would never leave. He would forever be beside BJ and Tania, here in a Port Charles cemetery. What she'd always wanted, but not like this.
Frisco Jones was dead and nothing could bring him back this time.
"Daddy," she cried softly as the sobs overtook her.
Strong arms wrapped around her and she gave in. Gave in to the broken heart, to the grief, to her anger. She let herself keep the deluded belief that the arms comforting her were his, but she knew they weren't. The soft voice in her ears had a slight Australian accent.
"It's going to be okay, Maxie."
"No, it's not okay, Mac."
Not until the bastard responsible had paid for this. And she would make sure he did. She would see that the bastard spent the rest of his life in prison for his criminal stupidity.
She pulled away from Mac and wiped the tears from her face. She glanced around, with a new resolve. Her mother was comforting her sister and holding back her own tears. Lucas had an arm around a tearful Aunt Bobbie. Uncle Tony stood alone, devastated. In that moment, she knew what she had to do.
Justice, that was the last gift Maxie could give her father, her family. Whatever it took, however long, she would not fail. It just wasn't an option. She'd tap every resource the PCPD or the WSB had. She would get justice for her father's death, no matter the cost.
With this promise to herself, a load began to lift from her heart. Not even close to completely, but it was a beginning.