Summary: Sheridan and Luis have a date. But does all go as planned? Of
course
not!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters on Passions. If they were mine,
Luis
and Sheridan would already be married. However, they do not belong to
me,
they belong to NBC and the creators of the show. I am merely using them
for
my own enjoyment. So please, don't sue me.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Crane Mansion
The Next Morning
Ethan knocked on Sheridan's door, calling her name softly.
"Sheridan? I brought you breakfast-"
He pushed open the door to reveal Sheridan, still in her pajamas, blond
hair
sticking up in all directions, standing amidst a huge pile of clothes.
Her
blue eyes were wild as she pawed frantically though the garments,
tossing
them in various directions.
"What are you doing?!" Ethan exclaimed, startled.
Sheridan jumped at the sound of his voice, "I'm uh, I'm trying to
figure out
what to wear tonight."
"But it's only nine-thirty in the morning," Ethan informed her,
sounding
confused.
"You know how I get."
Ethan crossed his arms, "Didn't you already go through this before?
You've
already made your first impression on Luis you don't have to do it
all over
again!"
Sheridan scowled, "My first impression on Luis wasn't very wonderful. I
doubt
his car appreciated the impression either. The second impression didn't
exactly make Luis OR his car very happy either. Shall I go on?"
"What I'm trying to say is that you don't need to drive yourself crazy
trying
to impress him tonight. He already knows everything about you."
Sheridan snorted, "Who said I was trying to impress Luis?"
"Um, you did."
"I just want to look nice."
Ethan sighed, "Sheridan, I don't see why you're being so stubborn.
Just
admit that you're in love with Luis, and you'll be surprised how easy
the
rest of it will go."
Sheridan crossed her arms, "Ethan, I just told you that I am NOT in
love with
Luis. Now will you please stop pestering me about it?"
"Fine," he yawned, "Father wanted me to tell you that your cabin is
officially no longer a crime scene. As long as you stay away from the
blood
on the rug, you can go back inside."
"Well, isn't that a pleasant thought."
"Father is having the rug replaced this afternoon."
"How thoughtful of him," she muttered sarcastically.
<<<~~~>>>
Julian Crane sat at his desk in the library, knuckles white from
clenching the telephone so fiercely. He attempted to keep his voice
smooth
and steady as he spoke to his father.
"Yes Father, Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald has eliminated the danger to
Sheridan. Now
he no longer is needed to stay at the cottage."
"Very good," the calm, authoritative voice of Alistair Crane filtered
over
the phone line.
"So," Julian laughed humorlessly as he poured himself a glass of brandy
from
the crystal flask, "There's no need to kill him. He and Sheridan never
have
to see each other again."
Alistair's voice was cold, "See that they don't interact any more than
necessary."
"Oh father," Julian chuckled for effect while he focused a hateful
glare on
the phone, "I've already made sure that she hates him!"
He fingered the rubber Luis mask he had grown so fond of.
"She won't want anything to do with him once he's left the cabin."
"I hope you're right Julian. For your sake, I hope you're right,"
Alistair's
cruel tone hung in the air as he hung up the phone.
Julian scowled and glared at the phone as he replaced it in its
cradle.
"Old tyrant," he muttered.
"Julian?" Ivy's voice floated through the door.
"Yes dear?" he asked sarcastically, a fake smile lighting up his face.
Ivy gave him a disgusted look, "Julian, I'm going out for the evening."
"Out? Where?"
She shook her hand in the air, feigning boredom, "Oh, Sam Bennett and
his
wife Grace need my help decorating their store. Don't wait up."
And with that, she flitted out of the room.
Julian sighed and gulped down the glass of brandy, already reaching for
another one.
"Out for the evening," he grumbled, "It's only ten in the morning!"
"I like to get an early start!" Ivy yelled over her shoulder.
<<<~~~>>>
Lopez-Fitzgerald House
Luis stood, arms crossed, as his younger sister stood in front of
him,
pleading with him in a tear-filled voice.
"Luis," Theresa said brokenly, "You don't understand. It's fate."
He eyed her skeptically. "Theresa, this is NOT fate. This is two people
going
out for dinner."
"No," she shook her head and stared at him, "No Luis. It's fate."
He narrowed his eyes, "How is it fate?"
"If you and Sheridan can be happy together, is there any reason that
Ethan
and I can't be together?"
"So that's what this is about." Luis rolled his eyes, "Theresa, I've
told you
to give up this crazy dream of being in love with Ethan. He doesn't
even know
you exist."
"It's fate."
"It's NOT FATE!"
"That's what you think," Theresa said stubbornly, and Luis suddenly
realized
how much he was like his sister. Not in her flighty pursuits of
romance, but
they shared an identical habit of not letting go of things. Of refusing
to
give up on what they held most dear.
"Fine," he finally said, realizing that there was no way he could win
this
argument, just as Theresa said, "Fine Luis, you win."
They both paused and eyed each other.
Theresa spoke first, "If you won't recognize my love for Ethan,
and his
love for me would you at least let me give you a haircut?"
Luis frowned, "Why do you want to give me a haircut?"
"So you don't look like a porcupine!"
He touched his head, "I look like a porcupine?"
Theresa narrowed her eyes, "When was the last time you got a haircut?"
"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it-"
"You don't want to scare Sheridan off. Come on. Let me cut your hair
for you."
Luis shrugged, defeated, "Fine. Go ahead."
It was to be his first mistake of the day.
<<<~~~>>>
Crane Mansion
Sheridan held up two dresses, attempting to decide between them.
Finally
she tossed them both to the floor in disgust and headed back to her bag
to
collect another armload of clothes. Ethan stood in the door, shaking
his head.
"Sheridan, you're making me dizzy."
"I'm making myself dizzy," she snapped, tossing the garments to the
floor and
stepping over them.
"Why don't you wear this?" Ethan held up a blue dress.
"Because" Sheridan eyed the dress, "It's too long."
"This?" he held up something else.
"It's too short."
"What about this one?"
"It's too perfect."
Ethan sighed, "Then you're on your own."
"You're supposed to be helping me!"
"I can't help you if you drive me crazy!" Ethan shot back, "I'm no good
to
anyone unless I'm sane. And I don't think that Luis would be too happy
if you
showed up escorted by two men in white coats."
"I'm not that bad am I?"
Ethan merely raised an eyebrow.
Sheridan kicked one useless dress across the room. "I don't want
Julian
to hear us talking. When you want to say Luis, say another name, okay?"
Ethan shrugged, "Like what?"
"Maurice."
"You can't be serious."
"Then you think of something!"
Ethan shrugged again, "Um Louis."
"Oooh, that's original."
"And Maurice was? Did you happen to notice what it rhymed with?"
Sheridan sighed, "Rufus, then."
"RUFUS?! What the hell kind of a name is that?!"
"It's better than LOUIS."
Ethan threw his hands in the air, "Fine. Call him Rufus."
Sheridan smirked, wondering what Luis's reaction would be if he knew.
Ethan studied the mess on the floor with an incredulous gaze, "So
what
time is, uh, Rufus picking you up for dinner?"
"Seven."
Ethan glanced at his watch, "And it's eleven right now. Wow, you'd
better
hurry."
"Your sarcasm is going to get you in trouble."
He blinked, "I'm never sarcastic."
Sheridan frowned, but decided to ignore him and focus once more on the
more
important task. The clothes.
"It's no use," she said finally, "I have nothing to wear."
Ethan gestured frantically to the huge piles of clothes, that he was
amazed
had fit in her tiny overnight bag to begin with, "What do you call
that?"
"Nothing at all," she groaned, kicking at the garments.
"Look," Ethan sighed, "Just close your eyes and grab something. I'm
sure
you'll look great in it."
Sheridan shot him a withering look but complied. She leaned over and
felt
around in the piles before her fingers closed on a fabric she found
suiting.
She stood up, clutching it in her hands, finally opening her eyes.
"This'll do," she said finally, and Ethan shot her a knowing look.
"It's how I pick most of my ties," he explained.
"Oh, so is that why they never match?"
<<<~~~>>>
Ivy strolled purposefully into Grace Bennett's store, casting a
critical
gaze around. Not her style, she decided, but if it was what Sam
preferred
"Ivy?" Grace was standing on a ladder, tacking something to the wall,
"What
are you doing here?"
Ivy beamed at her, mentally congratulating herself on how natural she
appeared, "Oh, I remember you telling me something about how you and
Sam
would be fixing the place up. I decided to help"
"That's so sweet!" Grace exclaimed, "Isn't it Sam?"
Sam emerged from behind the counter, "Isn't what sweet?"
"Ivy Crane has volunteered to help us with the decorating!" Grace
clapped her
hands together and looked adoringly at her husband. Ivy fought hard not
to
gag.
Sam, to his credit, managed not to show any outward signs of how Ivy's
presence affected him. However his eyes did narrow, and he pressed his
lips
together so they formed a thin line.
"That was very kind of her," he said in a low, controlled voice, "But
why
don't you tell her that we have it all under control?"
"That would be rude Sam!" Grace said, swatting him lightly, "I know you
want
me all to yourself, but we could use a little help here." She smiled at
Ivy,
who forced herself to smile back.
Ivy walked up to Sam, "What can I do to help?"
He backed away, "You'll have to talk to my *wife* about that."
Ivy stared at him for a moment longer before reluctantly stepping away
and
heading over in Grace's general direction.
"Grace, what do you want me to do?"
Grace handed her a stack of red, heart shaped construction paper
cutouts,
"You can hang these on that wall over there."
Ivy took the papers and the thumbtacks wordlessly, heading over to the
wall.
Only then did she look down at what she held in her hand, red hearts
with
names in black marker in them. Half of the hearts said SAM and the
other half
said GRACE. Ivy sighed. This was going to be a long day.
<<<~~~>>>
Crane Mansion
12:00 pm
Sheridan, dress selected, was now hunting around in her bag for a
pair
of shoes. It soon became clear that she had not packed enough pairs to
be
suitable to her fickle tastes.
"Ethan," she said with a sigh, "I'm going to have to go back to the
cottage
for shoes."
Ethan rolled his eyes, "What's wrong with the twenty pairs you
brought?"
"I didn't bring twenty pairs!" she protested, "I brought fifteen!"
He shook his head, "If you make even half the mess over there that you
did in
here-"
"It'll fit right in with the broken glass and blood. Trust me."
"Want me to drive you over?"
"Would you?"
"I asked, didn't I?"
Sheridan nodded, attempting to stuff her unselected dresses back into
the
bag. She then thrust the bag into her nephew's arms and proceeded to
follow
him down the stairs, carrying the dress she had picked rather gingerly
in her
arms.
<<<~~~>>>
Crane Cottage
12:15 pm
Sheridan bypassed the living room, not even glancing at the blood
on the
floor. She marched straight into her bedroom, tossing the bag on the
floor,
laying the dress carefully on the bed, and flinging open her closet
doors
with definite purpose.
"Now" she muttered, grabbing pairs of shoes off the shelf, glancing
at them,
and then flinging them over her shoulder. As she tossed a particularly
ugly
pair, covered with bright purple sequins and topped off by an orange
flower,
over her shoulder, she heard a muffled thump, and then a much louder
thump.
"What the-" she said, whirling around.
Ethan was sprawled on the ground, shoe impression standing out
vividly
on his forehead.
"Ohh," he moaned, rubbing at his head.
"Ethan! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, kneeling next to him.
His eyes fluttered open, "I love you Theresa," he said clearly, before
passing out again.
Sheridan sat back on her heels, eyeing her unconscious nephew
curiously.
"Jeez," she said out loud, "If I'd known that this was how you'd admit
it to
yourself, I'd have hit you over the head a long time ago!"
Ethan stirred and then was still. Sheridan, deciding that he would come
around eventually, left him to return to her closet. After much more
frantic
searching, although she was more cautious with where she discarded the
unwanted pairs, she had found the perfect pair of shoes to go with her
dress.
She then turned to face Ethan, who was still lying, unmoving on the
ground.
"Some help you were," she muttered.
Ethan stirred once more at the sound of her voice, finally sitting up,
rubbing his head slowly and glancing around, eyes dazed.
Sheridan smirked at him, "You always pass out on the job?"
Ethan blinked, confused, "What happened?"
"You walked right into the path of a projectile shoe."
Her nephew shook his head, "I knew you were trying to kill me."
"More interesting than that little fact is what you said when you got
hit
with the aforementioned shoe," Sheridan said teasingly.
Ethan rubbed his forehead, "What did I say?"
"You opened your eyes, looked right at me, and said 'I love you
Theresa', and
then you passed out again."
Ethan stood up rapidly, "I did not!" Then he bent his head down,
assailed
with a wave of dizziness.
"Believe what you want. I know what I heard."
"You're going deaf then," Ethan protested weakly.
"I believe you're going senile at a young age. I believe what my ears
told
me. Yet you won't believe what your heart tells you."
Shaking his head, Ethan attempted to right himself once more.
"Why don't you go back up to the mansion? I think I can handle things
from
here." Sheridan informed him.
Ethan nodded slowly, "Yeah. Okay."
He walked rather unsteadily out of the cabin.
Left alone, Sheridan tossed the pile of shoes unceremoniously back
into
her closet. They would have to be reorganized another day. She then
glanced
at her watch. Three-thirty already?! She hurriedly unpacked her bag,
placing
the photograph of her and Luis up on her mirror, before rushing off
into the
shower.
