Next Stop

Tracy's next big adventure...


Tracy spent a little time with Luke in Istanbul. Okay, a bit more than a little time. About two and a half weeks to be exact. They reunited in bed, shared memories and anecdotes, quips and barbs. It was as if no time had past at all. They fell back into their old routines, their old patterns, all too easily, and she admitted, if only to herself, that he was the love of her life. That he always would be. But Luke was Luke, and his restless soul dictated that he couldn't stay in one place, with one woman, for very long. She woke one morning to find him gone and knew that she had two options: One, she could go in search of him, track him down and drag him back with her kicking and screaming for however long it may last this time, or … Two, she could let go of him once and for all and set out on her new adventure like she had intended. An adventure that meant never letting herself be defined by a man again, not even Luke Spencer.

In the end, the choice was surprisingly easy. She didn't want to live in Edward's shadow anymore; nor Luke's. So she packed up what she had brought and decided to leave Istanbul. She briefly considered leaving a note at the hotel for Luke, on the off chance he returned, telling him not to follow her, but figured he wouldn't bother anyway, so why waste the time?

Standing in the bustling, crowded airport, she tried to decide what to do next. She watched the screen advertising flights going in and out of Istanbul. She really could go afford to anywhere in the world with the money she had received for that painting. In the end though, she decided to go stateside again. It wasn't in her grand plan, but as she sat thumbing through a copy of The New York Times she had bought at a booth in the airport, she saw a small article that got her mind to racing.

Apparently, there had been a fire in SoHo just mere days before that had taken out a whole city block. It didn't say which block but she had to know – was it Green Street? Had the apartment building she still owned 51-percent of gone up in flames? She thought of her time in the city. She'd been … Why, she'd been almost happy there, in her element really. Dillon was with her, thriving and growing like a weed every day, and she'd gotten to live life on her own terms for once – just like she'd always wanted. Sure, she was married for a time in SoHo, but the marriage hadn't lasted long. Old Gino had kicked the bucket shortly after their union became legal. She'd gotten to be everything there that she couldn't be in Port Charles, living under her father's thumb.

Decision made, she booked a flight back to New York. Walking through JFK, being jostled by people coming and going, she felt a sudden urgency to get to Green Street. Hailing a taxi, she barked at the thick-accented driver to take her to SoHo.

As they neared Green Street, she held her breath. Please don't be all burnt up; please don't be all burnt up, she prayed, though she had never been one for prayers.

The breath finally burst from her as she saw the apartment building she had spent a fairly happy year in. She'd felt at peace there somehow and though she hadn't thought about it in so long, she was very glad to see it in one piece. Well, it was mostly in one piece. It did look somewhat run-down and she couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten a rent check from anyone, but it was there.

She paid the cabbie handsomely and she smiled as she hustled her way across the street. She opened the front door, expecting to see Buck Houston standing at the bar, pouring drinks or wiping down tables, and Nick Rivers on the bandstand crooning some soulful tune. But they weren't there. The place was … utterly abandoned. The lock, she realized, had been jimmied and the place cleaned out of everything. There wasn't a piece of furniture or stitch of wood left behind. All that remained was litter and garbage. She sighed. She didn't know what she was expecting when she came here but it wasn't this.

She headed for the staircase and began the long climb to the penthouse. She doubted the elevators were still in service and if they were, she wouldn't trust them not to plummet her to her death. And she'd come much too far to die now.

She reached her old apartment. Drawing in another breath, she pushed back the door. It was empty in here too – desolate, decrepit, void of light and life. Nothing remained of what she remembered as being such an opulent place. Nothing but a piece of trash strewn here and there and a mountain of dust. She was practically choking on the mites.

Covering her mouth, she pondered what to do for a long moment. She had come here for her new beginning, for her new adventure, and it was not at all what she had expected it to be. It was nothing like she remembered.

But … it could be again...

She knew then what she had to do. She would start over, from the ground up, just like she'd had to do so many times before. She would rebuild this place, piece by piece, brick by brick, even if it took years. She'd fix it up. Revive it. Bring it back to life; get new tenants even. She'd restore the greatness of what had been and in the process she would find what had been seeking for so long: peace.

The end.

I wrote this very quickly so it might suck but I wanted to do a little tribute to Tracy and her awesome portrayer, Jane Elliot. It didn't sit right with me that Tracy's new adventure included Luke (someone who had hurt and betrayed her so many times), so I knew I had to remedy that ending. Also, Tracy never needed a man anyway to define her. Plus, I have been watching old clips of The City on Youtube of late and thought I could integrate the concepts. I hope you enjoyed this. Now lemme have it!