Notes: Dear God, I've written an AJ fic.  An AJ-POV fic, even.  Rated R!  Gaaaah.

CONTROL  by Jayne Leitch
C. 2002

AJ is in control.

Not the fake facade that characterized his marriage to Carly, and not the tentative, brittle
attempt he made after the laundry cart when he was trying, so hard, not to drink.  He
knows now that these were nothing more than hastily-constructed illusions, designed by
himself or the family to get him through one more month, one more week, one more day
without noticing just how out of control he really was.

Designed to give him just a little more time in freefall before he hit the ground.

AJ has come to realize that he knew all along how helpless he was.  When he considers
it, he thinks that he bought into the illusions so wholeheartedly because he knew,
somehow, exactly what they were--and if his years spent in a drunken stupor taught him
anything, it was that harsh realities can actually be ignored for quite some time when one
has enough money, power, and ego to keep up a steady stream of distractions.  The last
time he really, clearly remembers being in control--of himself, his life, his choices--was
in the early years of boarding school, before alcohol and life in the mansion and any
significant amount of contact with the family.

When he thinks of how eager he was to send Michael to boarding school, AJ has to
smile.  And then he has to hate himself, because he knows now what St Swithens did to
*him*, and he doesn't want to pretend anymore that being sent away until he could
comport himself like any other rich young bastard for the disapproval of his relatives was
the best part of his--albeit miserable--life.

AJ knows it's the memory of being in control that keeps him looking back on St Swithens
with such fondness.  Cold comfort, but...it's been a long time since he could claim
anything else.

Now, though--it's funny.  Practically hilarious, because now that his money is gone, his
parents have sided against him, his grandfather is trying to ruin him, he's reduced to
accepting charity from *Sonny*--because despite whatever Courtney's trying to believe,
the money they're using to pay for this two-star motel room originated in Sonny
Corinthos's bank account--*now* AJ feels in control again.

At last.  Solid footing, the real thing, not some distracting illusion, and it feels...better
than the memory.

It was Edward who made him see it.  Edward, trailing police like hired goons, wearing a
ten thousand dollar suit and lying like a used car salesman.  Declaring plans and issuing
ultimatums in an incredibly obvious attempt to push AJ--push him, presumably, from the
position of strength AJ had assumed when he told the bastard to go to hell and followed
Courtney out from under his influence.

Grandfather, with all his plans and strategies and arm-twisting scare tactics, is afraid
because AJ has control of himself.  Why else would the old man be trying so damned
hard to make him *lose* it?

AJ won't let it go this time.  It's *different* this time; when he was the kid at the boarding
school who worked conscientiously to get good grades, learn boxing, decide who he was
going to *be* so he could have some kind of presence in his family during the short
summer months he ever saw them, he was alone.  Alone and desperate and walking the
edge all the time, always knowing that the first fall was just a few short steps ahead, as
inevitable as breathing.  That first illusion, first distraction--the vodka--was almost a
relief, because *finally* he could stop the balancing act and just *fall*.

The fall lasted years.  Sometimes it even felt good, but AJ can't fool himself that it was
ever as good as this.

This time he has Courtney.  Young and headstrong and innocent and worldlier, in a lot of
ways, than he has ever been, she loves him in a way that makes him deeply ashamed.
Not of the way he manipulated her into those feelings, but of the way she's kept them,
despite him and all of his attempts to force his illusions of control onto her.

She refused them all.  She loves him, and it was realizing that he'd lost control of his plan
and started loving her too that made all his illusions...go away.  It hasn't taken AJ any
time at all to realize that his newfound steadiness comes from her belief--not in the
illusions he tried so hard to distract her with, but in the simple, unbelievable notion that
he deserves it.  He thinks he loves her; he knows that she can't be controlled, but when
he's with her, AJ knows he's in control of *himself*.

AJ is in control.

He is in control when he thrusts, slow and deep, inside her.  He is in control when she
arches against his chest and cries out, and he is in control when he presses his mouth to
hers, licks her lips, and swallows her gasps.

He follows her over the edge because he wants to.

End.

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