Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting
I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out
I’ve paid a price, and I’ll keep paying
– Not Ready to Make Nice, Dixie Chicks

---

Wednesday, July 23, 2003

Port Charles Municipal Building: Scott’s Office

Elizabeth flashed Carly a hesitant smile as she stepped into the lobby of Scott’s office and found the pregnant blonde occupying one of the other seats. Scott’s secretary told them both it would be a minute, then stepped out into the hallway.

“Do you know why Scott called us?” Elizabeth asked as she sat next to Carly. “He wouldn’t say over the phone.”

Carly grimaced, shifted in her seat. “No. Just that it was about the case. I thought maybe he wanted to go over my statement…but now that you’re here…” She bit her lip. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s more serious than that.”

God, she hoped nothing had gone wrong with the case. Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. Her protection hearing was at the end of the week and she wasn’t convinced that the same judge that had let Ric within five feet of her medical care after the embolism would renew the protection order, much less make it permanent.

If the case went south and her protection order expired…

“Hey, sorry to make you guys wait.” Scott gestured for them to go into his office, even helping Carly get to her feet. “How are you feeling today?”

“Just tired,” Carly admitted warily as she lowered herself into a seat at Scott’s conference table. Elizabeth took the seat next to her as Scott closed the door. “What’s up? Did something go wrong with the case?”

“No. It’s moving slow, but it’s moving. We have a preliminary trial date set for November, but I might push that out or Lansing might ask to move it up. We should know in a few weeks for sure.” Scott sat across from them. “I’ve been going over the medical records and your initial statements, and well, last week it occurred it me exactly what it means for Lansing to represent himself.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “Wait, would he be the one cross-examining us?”

“How is that allowed? Letting the defendant near the victims?” Carly demanded. “Why wouldn’t the judge make him have someone else do it—”

“If Lansing weren’t an attorney, the judge would have assigned one to his case to advise him. I might have been able to petition for the other guy to do the questioning, but…” Scott shrugged. “I can’t take this to trial without putting you both on the stand, and you needed to know what that meant.”

Elizabeth looked at Carly, alarmed at her pasty complexion. “Carly, are you—”

“I feel sick,” she muttered, pressing her hand to her abdomen. “You mean he gets to stand in front of me and call me a liar about what he did? He gets to accuse Liz to her face, saying that it was her idea?”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “I haven’t even seen him since he was arrested the first time.” After he’d thrown her around their living room and tried to attack her over that Sun article. “But I didn’t—that means he’s probably representing himself in family court. Didn’t he have a lawyer at that first hearing? Jason said—”

“He fired him. I don’t know what Lansing is thinking, but yeah, I think maybe he is going to be do the presentation on Friday. Which means he’ll be cross-examining you about the assault and—” Scott sighed. “That’s why I asked you both to come in. We got a strong case. And Taggert took this case seriously. Even when your kidnapping veered away from Lansing, Carly, he did everything right, paperwork wise. There’s no technicalities. No corners cut.  With the two of you testifying, along with the medical evidence of your overdose and embolism, Elizabeth, I’m gonna put him away for the rest of his natural life.”

“Okay…” Carly tipped her head. “Are you just trying to reassure us?”

“The thing is…reading the statements, looking at the evidence…the two of you have been through hell. And it was bad enough when it was me and some other guy making you relive it. But I don’t know if I feel comfortable asking you to do it when Lansing is the other guy. He’s looking at twenty-five to life on two charges—the kidnapping and the attempted murder. Another ten on the assault earlier that day, Elizabeth. If he were found guilty of all three and sentenced consecutively, that’s sixty years before he gets to think about parole. But if he were to plead guilty—if we avoided a trial—”

Elizabeth blinked, looked at Carly whose eyes were wide. “But this is good publicity for you, Scott. I know how hard you’ve worked for us. I mean, you got those contempt charges when it looked like the judge might let Ric win my power of attorney—”

“Yeah, I mean, don’t you take a hit if you plead it down?” Carly asked. Her color had returned.

“Maybe,” Scott admitted. “If we go that route, I mean, it’d be nice if you two would release a statement saying we decided it together, but I just—” He shook his head. “The PCPD has done enough damage here, and my office wasn’t much better. We knew who kidnapped you that first night, Carly. We knew he was probably drugging you, Elizabeth. And we didn’t do enough. I can’t ask either of you to put your lives on hold for six more months, at best, and then let that scumbag torture you on the stand.”

“What would you offer him?” Elizabeth asked softly. “Not that—I just want to know. Because I really like the idea of him rotting away in prison.”

“Yeah, in a small cell with other people bringing him food and never seeing the light of day,” Carly muttered. “If we could swing solitary confinement, that’d be great—”

“Well, I’d open with twenty-five to life on the kidnapping and ten for assault. Basically, cut that sixty years almost in half, and see where the negotiations go from there.”

“You would drop the attempted murder charge,” Elizabeth murmured. She rubbed her chest, still remembering the pain and pressure before the embolism. “What about the overdose?”

“We have a little less evidence there without the overall murder charge.” Scott grimaced. “I don’t love it, but it’s a place to open the bargaining.”

“What’s the bottom line, then?” Carly raised her brows. “What’s the least you’d take before you walked away? If I’m giving up the idea of putting him away for sixty years, then I wanna know what we might expect—”

“I’d probably drop the negotiations if we got less than fifteen to life. I think fifteen is rock bottom, and he knows it. He’d probably accept it.”

“Fifteen years,” Elizabeth murmured. He’d be gone, out of their lives for fifteen years. Long enough to forget him, maybe. “I don’t know.”

“You know what? Let’s revisit this after the hearing on Friday.” Carly looked at Elizabeth. “I might have to testify. Your lawyer asked me to, and it’ll be…it’ll be a test run.” She looked back at Scott. “I get what you’re trying to do, Scott. And I appreciate it. Is there any other reason you might not want to go to trial? Is it just us?”

Scott pressed his lips together. “I think your mother might have told you that Lansing has subpoenaed your medical records and Elizabeth’s. Once he saw the referrals to therapists, he also asked for Kevin and Gail’s records—”

“Wait, what?” Carly demanded, leaning forward as Elizabeth’s stomach pitched. “He can’t have those—”

“I’m asking for the judge to appoint a special master to make that distinction, but…anything that goes to credibility…the thing is, Carly…”

“It wasn’t just my records he asked for,” Carly muttered, pressing a hand to her face. “Well, we’re in luck—Sonny’s never talked to a—” She scowled. “Scott, don’t tell me you’re turning over my mother’s statement—”

“She hasn’t officially made one. I’m dancing on an ethical line there because I know she’s got information that I haven’t asked for. But the last thing I want to do is piss Bobbie off or make this worse. I’m filing an injunction—Sonny was tangential at best to your rescue. The ultimate information came from the security footage and the real estate agent. The fact that Sonny called Jason isn’t important. I can call anyone else who watched that video.”

“But a deal would keep all of that off the table,” Elizabeth said slowly. She sighed. “Carly’s right. I think we should revisit this after the hearing.”

A hearing where it would be Ric questioning her instead of some random lawyer. God help them all.

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Taggert stormed into Mac’s office and threw a file down on his desk. With some trepidation, Mac looked down and saw the name Webber, Elizabeth scrawled on the tab, along with a notation that the case had been closed.

“You know where that was?” Taggert demanded. “You wanna know where the rookies found this?”  He leaned over Mac’s desk, planting his hands on the edge. “Not in cold storage. In the closed archives.”

“Taggert—”

“Falconieri and Rodriguez thought it was a mistake—you know, there was a confession, maybe the cop who put away just got it wrong. I could tell Spencer didn’t buy it, and you know why? Because he knows I’m the one that put that case on the inactive list.” Taggert bared his teeth as he growled. “Because I personally walked that fucking box down to cold storage myself and put it on a shelf. What the hell happened to her case, Mac?”

Mac slowly got to his feet. “It must have been a mistake,” he said, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears. “Taggert—”

“The dress you told me you sent to testing? It’s still in the fucking box. It wasn’t supposed to be in there. It wasn’t when I walked that box down there. It was in in the evidence locker, and what’s worse—it hasn’t been touched since we checked it into evidence in March of 1998. You falsified a lab report.” Taggert shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but—”

“I’ll look into it—”

“Spencer gave you a report with her case listed as one that should be reopened and pulled. And you edited that report before it went to the DA—you took the Webber case off the list—What the hell—”

“Her case has another suspect—it would be harder to link it—” Mac shook his head. “I was going to talk to you about it today. As for why it wasn’t in cold storage, I don’t know. I’ll look into it,” he repeated.

“Don’t bother.” Taggert grabbed the file back from Mac’s desk. “From now on, only my team comes near these cases. And I’m reopening the Webber case.” He arched a brow at his boss. “Anything you want to tell me before I dig deeper? Because if Baker isn’t the guy, and we could have known that five years ago—”

“Taggert—”

“Do you know how close we are to running out time on the statute because you didn’t process her fucking kit?” Taggert snarled. “We got five years from the date she turns eighteen. We got until November 1 this year to get, at least, a DNA profile. And the only reason we got a break is the poor kid was sixteen when the whole thing happened. If she’d been an adult, we’d be out of luck.” He shook his head. “This is bullshit.”

He stormed back out the way he’d come, and Mac sat down at his desk, staring blindly at the blotter in front of him. God help him, he’d really thought Tom Baker had raped Elizabeth Webber. He hadn’t thought they’d get any DNA running her dress since it had been turned over to the hospital several days after her rape—so he’d gone along with Floyd, thinking that it might be their best bet to make sure Baker did time for something.

But if Baker had been innocent of the rape—

If Elizabeth’s rapist had continued his rampage and raped six more girls—including Brooke Lynn—

How was Mac ever going to live with himself?

Harborview Towers: Lobby

Elizabeth kept her expression carefully blank as her elevator was boarded just before the doors closed. Courtney Matthews hesitated before crossing the threshold but eventually stepped into the elevator and then stood in the opposite corner.

She looked at the button lit up on the panel, then stared straight ahead as the doors closed and the car began its ascent. “I didn’t think Jason was staying here these days. Didn’t he take a room at Jake’s?”

Elizabeth bit her lip before answering. “He did, but he had a meeting he couldn’t take at the warehouse.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. What to say to the woman that had once been engaged to your boyfriend? Especially the woman who had been…basically jilted at the altar even though the ceremony had actually been canceled because of Carly’s kidnapping, not because Jason had left Courtney for Elizabeth.

The elevator climbed slowly to the penthouse level as Elizabeth dug her fingers tightly into the strap of her purse.

“I can’t stop being angry at you,” Courtney finally said as the elevator reached the eighth floor. “I know you weren’t having an affair before Jason broke the engagement, but I still can’t seem to make myself any less angry or not hate you. Because if you’d just…” She shook her head with a rueful laugh. “If you hadn’t believed him, if you hadn’t helped to find Carly—God, maybe he wouldn’t have been so angry with me.”

“Courtney—”

“But no. You had to go and prove how much more well-suited you are for his life than I am. I loved him, Elizabeth. That wasn’t a lie.”

“I didn’t think it was—”

“And I was humiliated when he left me. When those tabloids said he was at your house every day—you were calling him, checking in, and damn you, he looked forward to those calls—” Her voice broke as the elevator opened on their floor.

Courtney stepped off, started for Sonny and Carly’s penthouse but then whirled around to face her. “He never loved me. I get it now, but you know what should worry you, Elizabeth? How easy it was for him to lie about it. He lied to me, he lied to you, but he lied to himself—” She shook her head. “It should worry you that he could stop giving a damn about me like he flipped a switch in his head. Maybe the doctors were right—maybe he really is damaged—”

“Stop—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “You’re hurt. And none of us look great in this situation. Yes, Jason and I are together now. And yes, we’ve been together almost since you two broke up. But you were my friend and you went after him—”

“He sure didn’t run away,” Courtney snapped. “I went after him, but he didn’t seem to mind it.” She smirked. “We were sleeping together by Christmas. Did you know that?”

“Did you know he and I nearly got back together that November?” Elizabeth said softly, not even a little threatened by Courtney’s revelation. After all, hadn’t she run away from Jason? Run to Lucky? Run to Zander, to Ric?

Wasn’t Jason allowed to be lonely?

Courtney pressed her lips together.  “So, what—I was nothing more than a rebound—”

“That’s not for me to answer, Courtney. Jason and I had our problems, and we both ran from them. We’re really good at running, and we’ve been doing it for years. I’m sorry you were hurt. I know Jason cared about you—”

Courtney threw up her hands as if to ward off Elizabeth’s empathy. “Don’t bother trying to make yourself look good. He was engaged to me and that didn’t seem to bother you at all.”

“And he had broken up with you before anything happened. You know that Courtney. You know he broke up with you before you took Michael to the island. Before I got sick. And yeah, he broke up with you in part because of me, but it was because of you, too. I believed Ric had kidnapped Carly, and I believed he was drugging me. I let Jason search my home. I let him install cameras and surveillance. You called the cops who searched his home.”

“I called the cops because of Carly—”

“And that’s why Jason broke up with you. Because you don’t want to live in a world where your best friend gets kidnapped and you can’t call the police as a first choice—”

“I just—” Courtney’s voice broke. “I just thought if Jason could call the cops last year, why couldn’t I? Why was it okay for him to work with Taggert for you and not Carly?”

Elizabeth sighed. “Courtney—”

“Just save it. You’ve got all the answers, don’t you? You and Jason are this great, epic love story and people like me are just the obstacles on the road to your true love,” she spat out. “Lucky, me, Zander—we’re just roadkill.”

She spun around and slammed the penthouse door. Belatedly, Elizabeth realized that in the tiny hallway outside of the Corinthos penthouse, stood poor Max Giambetti, Sonny’s guard when the penthouse was occupied.

“Miss Webber,” Max said blandly. He carefully kept his eyes forward. “Nice to see you looking so well.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Elizabeth muttered before walking over to Jason’s penthouse.  She knocked lightly, hoping she wasn’t interrupting his meeting.

Jason pulled open the door and she bit her lip, finding Bernie, their business manager, sitting on the sofa. “Oh, hey, I thought you’d be done by now—”

“We’re just talking about regular business now,” he told her, catching her elbow as Elizabeth turned to leave. “And we’re almost done.” He kissed her, his hand sliding from her elbow to her wrist. “Your pulse is racing,” he said, drawing back, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

She very nearly rolled her eyes, but she accepted that it was going to take longer than three weeks for Jason to stop monitoring every little change in her health. “Yeah. It’s just been a long morning. I’m sorry to interrupt—”

“I’ll just leave these contracts here for you,” Bernie said as he slid the last of his paperwork into his briefcase. “We really were done, Miss Webber.” He got to his feet. “It’s good to see you on your feet again.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

When he’d left, Elizabeth sighed and dropped her purse on Jason’s desk. “Now I know why you never come here anymore. I ran into Courtney on the elevator.”

“I just thought it would be better if I gave her some space until she figures out what to do about…” Jason shrugged, sitting on the arm of his sofa. “I mean, your condo is good, and the security upgrade is okay but—”

“It’s not quite the bulletproof fortress this place is,” Elizabeth finished. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him again. “It’s okay. It’s awkward, and she has every right to be angry at us both. I mean, at least you didn’t actually marry a sociopath who tried to kill you.”

Jason grimaced and drew her in more closely against him. “I hate that I hurt her, but if I had gone through with it just because I didn’t want to be a bad guy or because she’s Sonny’s sister, it would have been worse.”

“She did say something interesting that I wanted to ask you about,” Elizabeth said, tilting her head to the side, her fingers playing the hair at nape of his neck. “She said she thought it would be okay to call the police because you’d worked with Taggert for me.”

Jason frowned. “Yeah. I told you about it in the hospital, remember?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth smiled at him. “But we were talking about something else and I never really thought about it after that. I just…I wish I had known, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Jason, half the problems we had last summer was because neither one of us was being all that up front about how we felt. If I knew you’d cooperated with the police—Taggert specifically—to find me, let me tell you, I wouldn’t have had any doubts in my mind about how you felt.”

“I was desperate,” Jason admitted. “Courtney probably knows because of AJ. I went to the Quartermaines—Edward blackmailed me into dinner—”

“Cooperation with Taggert and dinner at the Quartermaines?” Elizabeth smirked. “That’s a declaration of love right there. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t seem important,” he said with a shrug. “We found you. You were alive.” And that was true—Jason wasn’t the kind of guy to broadcast anything that might put him in the position of being a hero. He’d done what he’d done to find her, and once he had, he probably hadn’t thought about it again. “Does it really matter?”

“No, but it’s nice to know.” She pressed her lips together. “That’s a lie. Yeah, it matters. Because I was a mess last summer. I thought we were going somewhere, but you kept leaving for Sonny and Carly, and then not making a move—I thought I was imagining things and I made…choices based on that. But knowing what you went through to find me—I wasn’t imagining any of it.”

“I wish I could have handled everything better. Been more honest with you.” He sighed. “But I guess I wasn’t ready to do that yet.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s not your fault I have this thing about people who stay…” She shook her head. “Anyway. I came over to tell you about my meeting with Scott.”

Jason frowned at the change in topic, but he allowed it. He straightened, and she stepped back. “What happened at the meeting? I found out after you left that Carly got called there, too.”

“Yeah, he wanted to talk to us about the case.” Elizabeth dropped onto the sofa with a huff. “Ric is going to be representing himself at the trial—and probably at the hearing on Friday.”

Jason scowled, taking a seat next to her, turning to face her slightly. “What does that mean? Why does that change the case?”

“It doesn’t, but Scott wanted to make sure Carly and I understood that a trial where Ric is his own attorney means he’ll be questioning us.”

“What? Can’t he stop that—”

“Not really. Which also means he’ll be questioning us on Friday. Scott…isn’t sure he wants to put us through that. He said the case is rock solid, but…” Elizabeth shrugged and picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “It doesn’t mean it won’t suck. Particularly since Ric subpoenaed records from Kevin and Gail. Scott’s trying to keep that access limited, but—” She looked at Jason with some trepidation. “Ric also subpoenaed Sonny’s medical records.”

Jason winced. “Well, there’s nothing to find in the records, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things Ric could do.” He hesitated. “Are you okay…with testifying?”

“Well, that’s the thing. Scott offered—he thinks if he drops the attempted murder charges, he could get Ric to plead to just the kidnapping.”

“But that’s almost your entire case,” Jason told her. “And isn’t the kidnapping only twenty-five years? That’s cutting it in half—Damn Baldwin—”

“The whole point of a plea deal is to make it attractive enough for Ric to take it. My case isn’t as solid on its own, and there’s still a chance Ric could ask for a severance. And then it’s just my medical records and Carly. Which means—”

“You’d have to testify a third time—” Jason shook his head. “So, Baldwin wants to plead it out—”

“He could probably get life without parole in a trial, Jason. Carly’s case is really strong. If it went to trial—Ric would get put away for probably the rest of his life. Baldwin isn’t asking because of the strength of the case. I honestly think he wants to spare us.”

“He’s close to Bobbie,” Jason admitted. “He never did go after us for search warrants on the warehouse—And he got himself charged with contempt over your case.” He hesitated. “Is that what you want? To avoid testifying?”

“Well, Diane isn’t really that hopeful that we’ll get the protection order renewed on Friday,” Elizabeth admitted. “I talked to her after the meeting with Scott. She thinks Ric is going to go after you. And since the judge is the same guy who gave Ric that injunction—”

“He’ll paint himself as the wronged husband with an adulterous wife who is now public with the guy from the papers.” Jason exhaled slowly. “What about Carly?”

“She said she’d testify, but honestly, Jason, I don’t know if I want to go through with testifying at the hearing at all. Ric is in Crimson Point. Carly and I are surrounded by guards. If I testify at that hearing, it’s going to be about you and me, not what Ric did to me.”

He put an arm around her and drew her in closer. “What do you want to do about the trial?”

“Diane said Ric won’t be able to use you against me the same way. Not with Carly’s case at the same time. And all of the medical experts and witnesses can testify—” She hesitated. “We’ll go to the hearing, but I’m not going to push the order hard. I want to testify at the trial, though. I want to go to trial. I mean, if Carly doesn’t want to, that’s okay with me. And we can handle it that way, but…” She took his other hand and laced their fingers together. “I know…we don’t really talk much about what’s going to happen to Ric after he’s sentenced. I mean, once he’s in jail.”

“Elizabeth—”

“But Carly and I were talking about how long he’d be in jail, and I realized…I want him to rot in prison. I want him to be locked away, in a cell.” She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I get there may be reasons I can’t…that it can’t happen that way, but if there’s a way that it can…”

He was quiet for a long moment, but then nodded. “If that’s what you need—if that’s what Carly needs, then that’s what will happen.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“This time, I’m listening to you,” he cut in. “And if this is something you need to get past this, that’s what matters to me. How I feel about him? Not gonna change if he’s dead.” He winced, as if the blunt statement had gone too far. “Anyway—”

“Thank you,” she said. She turned slightly to slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you.”

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

Sonny waited until after dinner had been cleaned up and they’d put Michael down to bed that night before asking Carly about her meeting. She had remained at the dinner table, going over some paperwork from the club and didn’t notice at first when he’d come down from tucking Michael in.

He pulled out the chair across from her, sat in it, but didn’t pull himself to the table, angling the chair slightly out towards the rest of the room. “Are you ready to tell me what happened in the meeting today?”

Carly looked up at him, sighed, and put down her paperwork. She didn’t say anything.

“You didn’t say anything when you got home,” Sonny continued. “What happened? It can’t be that bad, Carly. If they’d dropped the charges or anything else ridiculous, I’d know. It’d be all over the news.”

She sighed. “No, it’s not bad news. I just…I knew it would be an argument, Sonny. And I just…” Her brown eyes, so often lit with humor or mischief, were dull now. Fatigued.

“He called me…and asked Elizabeth to come in as well to…ask us how we wanted this to happen.” She grimaced. “The trial, I mean.”

Sonny tilted his head. “What do you mean? You’ll testify, Ric will go to jail.” Where he would meet with a very much deserved accident.

“Yeah, well, Scott is taking into consideration that Ric is defending himself. Which means when I testify, when Elizabeth testifies…it’s him we face. Not some lawyer I don’t know. But the man who actually…” She looked away.

Rage, always simmering beneath the surface, boiled over, but Sonny kept his face calm. His voice even. “I hadn’t…I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“I guess we hadn’t either. As bad as it will be for me, I didn’t…I didn’t spend time with Ric the way Elizabeth did,” Carly admitted. “He doesn’t know the buttons to push. He didn’t spend all those months manipulating me. He’s going to get into that courtroom and he’s going to blame it on the miscarriage, and God, Sonny, I’ve lost a child. All I can think about is her on the stand having to deal with that, and I get sick to my stomach. I don’t want to face him. I don’t want to look at him. And I don’t want Elizabeth to do it either.”

“And Baldwin is going to force you do it?” Sonny demanded. “Can’t he just find a way to do this without you?”

“He has,” Carly said. “That’s why he called us in. Ric also subpoenaed our therapist’s records.” Her eyes shifted away for a moment before returning to him.  “He suggested maybe he could plead Ric out. Avoid a trial.”

A deal would be good. Faster. Sonny could arrange for that accident by the end of the year. “Why would you think this would be an argument?”

“Because I can practically see what you’re thinking right now. A deal gets this over faster, and Ric can die in prison.”

Sonny shrugged slightly. “That’s the plan, isn’t? Trial or now. He doesn’t get to live, Carly. Kidnapping you. Locking you in the room. Nearly killing Elizabeth. We’re done with him—” He stopped. “Exactly what is it that you think is supposed to happen?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to think about it. But now…we asked Scott for time. To get through the hearing on Friday…but…” Carly met his eyes. “I think I have to testify, Sonny. I have to get on the stand and face him. I don’t think I’m going to get past this unless I do.”

“Okay, I can see that. I don’t like it, but I can see it. And if I know Elizabeth at all, I figure she’ll probably come to the same conclusion. Or I hope so. I think you’re right. I think it’ll be good for both of you to face that bastard. Put him behind you.” Sonny frowned. “What are we arguing about then—” He stopped. “No.”

“I also want him to rot in prison,” Carly murmured. “So that I can go see him once in a while. See him in that ugly prison clothing. Without his manicures. Without his fancy clothing. I want to see him broken. And I want to see it repeatedly. He wanted me to live in that box until I had my baby, and then he was going to kill me. I want him to live every day in a small box until he goes mad, and I want him to always remember who put him there. I want him to rot away slowly, Sonny.” She paused. “I don’t want you to do anything.”

The image she painted was seductive and he was nearly swayed. But every moment Ric was alive was a moment that son of bitch hadn’t earned. He’d signed his death warrant and leaving him alive at this point would be a sign of weakness Sonny simply couldn’t afford.

“I get why you want that,” he said slowly. “But I can’t do it. He needs to die, Carly. And I need to be the one to do it.”

“Sonny—”

“Look, this happened to you. And it happened to Elizabeth. Don’t think Jason and I don’t know that. That we don’t grieve for all we could have done to stop it. To keep you from hurting, but I promise you he wants Ric’s blood as much as I do.”

“Sonny—”

“No, no. This happened to you. And it should be about you,” Sonny agreed. “And I get that. But, damn it, Carly, I went through it, too.” And now his voice cracked. He looked away. “Not knowing if you were still alive—I—I fell apart, Carly. I know that, and this—this is how I can make it right. Jason, Bobbie, and Elizabeth ran themselves ragged trying to find you, tearing that house apart—”

While he had babbled like an idiot, hallucinating back here in the penthouse, wallowing in own self-pity. No—this was his chance to finally do something right. Something he should have done months ago when Ric had showed his true colors. He’d let the bastard live to torture his family.

He pushed away from the table, stood. “This happened to you, and it happened to Elizabeth. But we went through it, too. Testify. Face the demons. We can talk about how long I’ll wait. A year, two. You can visit him, see him begin to rot. But that’s all I can give you.”

Carly exhaled slowly. Also stood. “I would never pretend that you and Jason, that my mother and Courtney—that there wasn’t suffering. Worry. Terror. I get that. But you were all bystanders. Collateral damage.”

She picked up her purse, looped the strap over her shoulder and edged around the table, away from Sonny. Toward the door.

“I don’t know what Elizabeth wants to do,” Carly said. “And that’s something she and I will decide, but you know what? She and I will decide, and I can promise you, Sonny, that when Elizabeth tells Jason how she wants to handle it, he’ll listen to her. That’s how much he loves her. I just wish I could say the same.”

“Damn it, Carly—”

“I’m going to talk to my mother. We’ll—” Carly stopped at the door. “You’re angry now,” she said gently. “And the thought of letting Ric rot in prison probably never crossed your mind. So, we’ll talk about this later.”

“Wait—”

But she had already slipped out the door, and to be quite honest, Sonny wasn’t sure what he would have said if she’d turned back.

I guess it’s gonna break me down
Like fallin’ when I’m try to fly
It’s sad but sometimes
Moving on with the rest of your life
Starts with goodbye
– Starts With Goodbye, Carrie Underwood

---

Tuesday, July 22, 2003

Condo: Bedroom

Elizabeth gasped for air as she could faintly hear Jason shouting her name. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to fit the oxygen mask over her face. His hands brushed hers aside as he fitted the mask, then switched on her tank. It didn’t work. She couldn’t draw in a full breath. The pressure in her chest grew like someone was squeezing her lungs with their fist—

What had Monica said? Tears stung at her eyes as she tried to pull air in through the mask. She couldn’t remember. Spots swam in front of her eyes.

Jason had flung himself out of bed and was kneeling in front of her. He was saying something, but she couldn’t make it out—

“Look at me,” Jason said, his voice rough, panicked. “Hey. C’mon—” He swore as her breathing remained shallow and rapid. He crossed the room and dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling 911—”

“No—” she gasped. “No. Not again—” Some of the pressure finally started to ease and she was able to take a full breath for the first time.

She pressed a fist to her chest, a sob of relief escaping her lips and causing her mask to fog up. She took another full breath. Then a third.

When she felt like she had it under control, she lifted the mask from her face. “I’m okay.” But she felt exhausted, pressed her hands to her face. “I’m sorry.”

A lamp next to her bed switched on, then Jason handed her a robe that had been hanging from the back of her door. He pulled on his briefs and sat next to her. “You had an oxygen tank,” he said flatly. “Why? I thought Monica gave you the all clear at your last follow up—”

Feeling weary, Elizabeth sighed and stood. She swayed slightly but righted herself.  “I need something to drink,” she murmured. She brushed off his hands as he tried to keep her seated. “I need to move, Jason. Monica said moving would help—”

“Elizabeth—”

But he said nothing else, just followed her out of the bedroom into her small kitchen and waited as she poured herself a glass of water and sipped it, feeling the cool liquid soothe her sore throat. “I’m sorry,” she repeated as she turned to look at him. There were no lights on in the main part of the apartment, just the moonlight filtering in through the window above her sink.

Jason leaned against the opposite counter, his face hidden by the shadows. “Did Monica give you the all clear or not?” he asked.

“She did,” Elizabeth said, defensively. She tugged her robe more tightly closed, holding the two sides together with a fist at her throat. “Mostly.”

He closed his eyes, shook his head. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t—” Not really. She just… “Monica told me I was clear for clots, that wasn’t a lie. And that I could resume normal activities…except…” She bit her lip. “She said that I would probably have issues with…stamina, I guess. I couldn’t walk far or—” She took a step towards him, but he didn’t move, so she stopped awkwardly. “She said I might find myself short of breath and that I had to be careful because it might lead to a panic attack or hyperventilating. That’s all that was—”

“That’s all that was,” he repeated. He leaned over and flipped on the light switch. The bright, unnatural light was harsh on her eyes and she squinted. She saw then that Jason wasn’t irritated—

He was furious. His blue eyes had that icy, almost gray flint hue they took on when he was really mad, his shoulders were tense, the muscles in his face twitching.

“Jason—”

“You were gasping for air. You couldn’t breathe.” He shook his head and went back into the bedroom. Worried now, she followed him and watched as he started to pull on his jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me what Monica said about breathing problems?”

“Because I don’t—” She tore his shirt from his hands before he could pull it over his head. “Because I can’t keep living my life worried all the damn time, Jason. I’m going to have issues for the rest of my life because of what Ric did to me—”

“You’ve been out of the hospital for two weeks, Elizabeth.” He stabbed a finger in her direction, then pulled his hand into a fist, letting it drop to his side. “Two weeks. You almost died—”

“And I’m tired of hearing that! I know I almost died—I was there. I couldn’t walk from my damn bed to the window without—” Elizabeth threw the shirt at him. “How long are you going to use that to keep me from doing anything? You want to lock me up, too?”

As soon as the words left her lips, she wanted to call them back. “I’m sorry,” she said almost immediately but it was too late. Jason pulled on his socks and sat on the edge of the bed to tug on his boots. “I didn’t mean that, Jason—”

“You think I’m using what happened to you as a weapon?” he demanded, looking at up at her. “That I’m trying to guilt you by reminding you—” He broke off, shook his head. “I knew you were sick. I could have forced you to see Monica. To get you help. But I wanted to find Carly. And you almost died. You—”

He stopped, took a deep breath. “You’d pressed that button, then collapsed. Your heart stopped beating right in front of me. You stopped breathing. And I just—you could have told me.”

“How could I tell you what Monica said when this is what happens every time I so much as yawn?” Elizabeth demanded, planting her hands on her hips. “I get what happened was awful, but I’m alive, and I’m here—”

His boots now on, Jason stood and found his phone where he’d tossed it after his aborted attempt to call 911. “I don’t want to argue with you,” he said.

“Because I might hyperventilate?” she all but snarled as she charged after him only to for her lungs to seize again as she stumbled, grabbing the kitchen counter to keep from sprawling on the ground. “Damn it,” she gasped, pressing a fist to her chest. “Damn it!”

Jason was back at her side, lowering her to the ground gently so she was resting with her back against the cabinets. He had his phone out again, but he didn’t call 911—he could hear him saying Monica’s name—

“It’s after midnight,” she tried to say, grasping weakly at his phone.

“Yeah. Okay, thanks. They’ll buzz you up downstairs. The door will be unlocked,” Jason said, ignoring her protests. He closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. “You either let her take a look at you or I’m calling an ambulance.”

Because she was too tired to argue, she just closed her eyes and let her head fall gently back against the wooden cabinet. Jason lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa before unlocking the door.

“I can’t live my life in fear,” she said softly, almost a murmur. “I can’t. I can’t keep letting it drive. I have to be in charge of my own life. And that means I can’t let your fears run my life, either.”

He said nothing as he sat on the end of the sofa, his head bowed. “Then don’t lie to me.”

“Jason—”

“If you had told me—”

“Monica never said I couldn’t have sex,” Elizabeth muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. Everything hurt—why did everything have to feel like it was on fire?

“But she said to take it easy, didn’t she?” Jason challenged. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “You didn’t tell me about the oxygen tank. What else don’t I know?”

“I’m not allowed to have a single thought to myself?” she shot back. “Isn’t that the line you threw at me when you lied to me?” He threw her an exasperated look which only made her angrier. “I get it. You watched me die. Well, I’m the one who actually died. I’m the one who couldn’t breathe when I woke up. I’m the one that was drugged. This didn’t happen to you—”

“I watched you die,” he said slowly, his voice sounding calmer than she knew he felt. “I watched you gasp and struggle for air, and with what you thought was your dying breath, try to tell me you loved me.” He looked at her, his eyes red and damp with tears of his own. “And then tonight, I watched you gasp and struggle for air again. And I thought—I thought it was another embolism. I thought you were going to die again. In front of me. They told me in the hospital that if you’d had another one, that was it. No more miracles.”

Some of her irritation faded then. She hadn’t—of course it must have looked— “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t think of what it looked like—I mean—to you.”

“I don’t want you to live in fear, Elizabeth. To always worry about what might happen with your health, but at the same time—” he shook his head. “I’m not sure I can stop.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Monica knocked on the door, then opened it, entering with a little black bag. Jason got to his feet and closed the door behind her. “I came as soon as I could—” She raised her brows at the two of them, both with red eyes, Elizabeth half-dressed, Jason fully clothed. “Jason said you had to use the tank?”

Elizabeth hesitated, then got to her feet. Jason steadied her with his hand under her elbow. “I’m sorry to drag you over here. I didn’t—I didn’t tell Jason I might need an oxygen mask.”

“Ah.” Monica studied her son for a long moment before looking back at Elizabeth. “Why don’t we go into your room and I’ll take your vitals. We’ll see if we have any reason to be worried.”

Leaving Jason behind in the living room, Elizabeth sat on the edge of her bed as Monica took her temperature, her blood pressure, and then checked her heart. “I told you I’m fine—”

“Your blood pressure is up, but that’s probably to be expected.” Monica pursed her lips. “You didn’t tell him what I said about possibly finding yourself short of breath and needing some back up?”

“No,” Elizabeth said on a sigh. “And he found out—well, he found out the hard way. He thought I was having another embolism. I didn’t—I didn’t—I guess I was hoping it wouldn’t happen like that, but—” she shrugged. “He’s angry at me.”

“It’s hard,” Monica said as she started to repack her instruments. “I’ve always found the hardest part of being in a relationship is the sharing. Alan and I are terrible at it. Ninety percent of our problems have been trying to solve our problems on our own.” She wrinkled her nose. “The other ten percent was all the affairs.”

“I get that Jason was upset because of what happened to me—”

“He blames himself, Elizabeth. Even if it’s not true, even if it’s not fair, Jason blames himself for letting it to get to the point that you almost died.” Monica picked up the bag. “And right or wrong, he probably sees what happened tonight as also being his fault. That’s something the accident didn’t change about him. Even as a small child, Jason always took the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

She sighed. “Monica—”

“I want you to spend some time resting,” Monica said, cutting her off. “Not bed rest but taking it easy. I know your hearing is at the end of the week and the memorial service—” She pressed her lips together. “After that, we’ll talk about some ways to get you back on track, physically.” She hesitated. “Elizabeth, you’re young. You were healthy before Ric got his hands on you, but a pulmonary embolism—the cardiac arrest that followed—that’s not something you bounce back from in two or three weeks. Not completely.”

“I know. Thank you for coming over so late.”

A few minutes after Monica left, Jason returned to the bedroom and sat next to her on the bed. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I just—I wanted to be normal. To feel like my old self.” She looked at him and was relieved to see most of the anger had left his eyes. “I just wanted to be with you.”

Jason put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stormed out—”

“I never meant to put you through that again—to make you think about the embolism—”

“You need to tell me when things affect your health. I can’t—” He tipped her head up to her look at her, his hand framing her jaw. “I can’t lose you.”

“I promise. Will you stay? Just—to sleep, I mean. Monica wants me to take it easy this week, at least until the hearing.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” He brushed his lips over her forehead, but she knew this probably wouldn’t be the last time they argued about her health or safety.

General Hospital: Kevin’s Office

Carly shifted in her seat, pressed her hand to her belly where the baby had decided to perform a somersault. “Like I said,” she told Kevin, “I feel like I’ve got my issues under control.”

“You know, just because this is our last scheduled session,” Kevin told her, “it doesn’t mean we can’t meet again if you need me.” He waited a long moment. “How are things with Sonny? You haven’t mentioned him today.”

“Things are…” she bit her lip and looked away, out the window. “I guess things are okay. I don’t know if you talk to my mother—”

“I haven’t spoken to Bobbie, no. You told me that Sonny had some problems while you were gone.” Kevin leaned forward at his desk, his elbows resting on the surface. “I was just wondering how that was affecting you. You’ve been trying to get back to normal, but—”

“Sonny’s struggling,” Carly admitted. “You know what happened to his first wife, Lily. Well, this brought it all back and he had a…” she paused. “Jason said it was a breakdown. That he was hallucinating and seeing Lily. That she was blaming him for what happened that night, for what happened to me. He hasn’t hallucinated since, but…sometimes he loses track of time.”

Kevin merely lifted a brow. “Loses track how?”

“Mama said Elizabeth told her she was talking with Sonny and he seemed to think it was last year. He remembered after a minute, but it’s not the first time…” She rubbed her belly again. “Sonny’s always had some issues, but Jason and I can usually handle it. It’s just been—we’re both exhausted right now. Jason’s worrying about Elizabeth, which is fine, I guess, since she almost died, and you know, I’ve got the boys—we haven’t been able to take care of him the way we used to. But we’re going to do better.”

“Okay,” Kevin drew out slowly. “Have you thought about—has he thought about—”

“Talking to someone? Mama tried, and I thought Sonny might actually do it, but he seems to think it’ll make him weak. He’s not the type to reach out for help, Dr. Collins.” Carly wrinkled her nose when the clock next to her turned to 11:50. “Thanks. I appreciate all the help you’ve given me.”

“Carly, don’t hesitate to reach out,” he said as she stood up. “I’m always here—”

“Thanks, but I’m not the one that needs the help.”

PCPD: Archives

 Lucky grimaced as he pulled the ninth and final box from the shelves and put it on the table for Cruz and Dante to open and go through. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered as he took a seat and started to through their notes.

“We have two more cases in the park,” Cruz sighed, tossing his pencil to the table and leaning back in disgust. “Two more cases of a young brunette raped in the park near a fountain. April 1999 and January 2000. Why the hell didn’t Vinnie see this?”

Dante smiled humorlessly. “Now you get why he’s my least favorite cousin. He probably didn’t even remember these cases even though he was the responding officer—” He looked at Lucky who ignored them both and started to look back at the files again. “What’s wrong?’

“The nine cases we pulled—” Lucky started turning around the other boxes on the cold shelves, but none of them had the SA notation for sexual assault. “None of them were Elizabeth’s.”

“I thought you said they got the guy,” Cruz said as he joined Lucky in his search. “Wouldn’t her case be in the closed room?”

“They couldn’t make the case, and her rape kit came back negative for any DNA,” Lucky said as he went to the other side of the shelving unit to check those boxes. “It was ruled inactive—which is the same thing as cold. I don’t understand why it’s not here.”

“Well, it’s the PCPD,” Dante said, climbing to his feet. “What do you want to bet some idiot thought that the guy’s confession meant the case was solved? I bet it got put in closed storage by accident.”

“Maybe.” But that didn’t make sense to Lucky. He’d seen a few cases get moved into cold storage since he’d started at the department, and the investigating officers usually moved it themselves. And Taggert had been the primary at the time Elizabeth’s case was ruled inactive.

He wouldn’t have made that mistake.

Dante and Cruz both followed Lucky to the next room which was twice the size as the cold storage. The rooms were organized chronologically, so they split up to find the 1998 cases. Finally, after nearly ten minutes, Lucky located the case boxes from that period—

And sure enough, Elizabeth’s name was scrawled across the side of a file box—and then Lucky saw something truly disturbing. The lid had been labeled in dark black marker CLOSED.  Which, in PCPD parlance, meant solved. He shook his head and took the case to the table in the room. This really didn’t make sense.

Cruz took the lid as Lucky tugged it off the box, examining the notation. “I can see filing it here by mistake, but writing closed—”

“That’s not the only place it’s written,” Dante said. He lifted the top folder from the box—a thin manila folder with only a few documents. The original report and a few statements. There was a label on the front of the file proclaiming the case closed. Dante handed Lucky the investigator’s closing remarks.

“Taggert and Garcia worked this case,” Lucky murmured as he looked over the closing report. “But Mac wrote this up as closed with Baker in prison—” He shook his head. “Why—”

“So, it didn’t show up as an open case on the reports, maybe,” Cruz offered. “Maybe Taggert and Mac didn’t want—” He frowned. “Didn’t you say her rape kit came back negative?”

“Yeah—” Lucky’s mouth was dry as Cruz lifted out the plastic bag containing a red dress. He hadn’t seen that dress since the night he’d taken Elizabeth home, since she had put it back on after Bobbie took care of her, after she’d crawled out of the bushes—

“There’s no notation on it—” He reached for the folder in Dante’s hand. “Where’s the chain of evidence document—”

“The one that’s supposed to list every time it’s touched?” Dante found it and whistled. “Handed over to PCPD by Mercy Hospital, March 1998. That’s it.” He snorted. “Checked in by Vinnie, naturally. Asshole.”

“But here’s the test from the lab,” Cruz said. “They—how did they get a rape kit tested without—”

“Maybe they fucked up the chain of custody,” Dante offered. He glanced over the log Cruz handed him. “Forgot to write it—”

“Maybe,” Lucky allowed. “Let’s pack it up and take it upstairs.” He swallowed hard. He didn’t like to think of Elizabeth’s case being messed up, but…Baker was the guy. He’d confessed. “We can talk to Taggert about it tomorrow. We should get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.” Dante sighed. “Yeah, we gotta be at the service soon.”

Quartermaine: Patio

Emily sighed, watching as Reginald wheeled Lila back into the house so she could lay down before the memorial service that evening. “She blames herself for not doing more for Brooke.” She turned back to Elizabeth and offered to pour her more lemonade.

“We all do,” Elizabeth said with a weary smile. Jason had stayed the rest of the night and had attempted to talk her into staying in bed all day, but she’d reminded him that Monica had only recommended taking it easy. There was nothing easier than sitting in the garden, drinking lemonade with Emily and Lila, so he’d backed down. Reluctantly.

“What’s wrong?” Emily stirred some more sugar in her glass. “And don’t ask — I can almost always tell. Especially when I’m actually paying attention.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “I may have overstated my recovery to Jason a bit. Your mother told me I could resume normal activities but nothing too strenuous and to keep an oxygen tank for emergencies. I didn’t tell Jason that second part. Last night…” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, let’s just say I attempted a strenuous activity.”

Emily arched a brow. “Oh, really? And lemme guess, instead of the afterglow, Jason got to watch you put on an oxygen mask. Sexy. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“I wish it had been that simple—I couldn’t get the mask on right away, so what should have been a simple thing ended up with panic attack and a dose of hyperventilation. Jason thought I was having an embolism, which scared the crap out of him. He got mad at me. I got mad at him. Your mother had to come over after I had a second dose of hyperventilation while we were arguing.”

She sat back against the cushions. “It’s not like I don’t understand his reaction, especially once I realized he thought it was another PE, but is it going to be like this every time we argue? He throws it in my face I almost died—”

“To be fair, he probably only brought it up because you were literally gasping for air,” Emily reminded her. “Liz, look, I am over the moon that you and my brother are together, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy. You guys fell apart last year for very good reasons. None of that gets solved because you almost died, and he’s decided to stop wasting time.” She shrugged. “You still need to trust each other. And I’m sorry, Liz, but you don’t get to hold it against him that he doesn’t want to do anything that might end up with you back in the hospital. That’s just normal human nature. Do you want to do something that puts him at risk?”

“No, but—” Elizabeth huffed. “You’re annoying.”

“That’s why everyone loves me,” Emily said with a sunny smile. It faded as she looked through the patio doors into the family room where Ned and Edward had entered. “It feels terrible to be home to bury Brooke. I don’t know how Ned is going to be able to deal with this.”

“He’ll have his family be his side,” Elizabeth told her, reaching across to squeeze her best friend’s hand. “That helps.”

Kelly’s: Lucky’s Room

Lucky scowled as he pulled the knot on his tie tight and grimaced in the mirror. He hated wearing a suit, and he really hated wearing a suit to the funeral of young woman.

He didn’t know if Brooke had committed suicide—if she’d meant to take the overdose of pills that had killed her. A lot of his memories of Elizabeth were still vague and dim, his swirling with bits and pieces that didn’t always make sense.

But being around this case, looking over her original statement and the one he’d given Dara Jensen and Detective Garcia…so many pieces were starting to fit together like a puzzle. And he remembered Elizabeth’s face as she’d crawled out of the bushes, the way her voice had trembled as she denied what happened, refused to let him do much more than bring his aunt to her.

He remembered now that he used to wish he’d forced to go to the cops that night, that if he’d called 911 and they’d taken care of then, before she’d showered—

But knowing Brooke, seeing what she’d gone through, what he knew the other victims this year had dealt with—

He’d told Dillon Quartermaine that he’d taken his cue from Elizabeth, and Lucky was desperately grateful he’d done so. She’d made it through the darkness, and despite all the pain and loss that had come later, he was glad he’d been there for her.

He heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” Lucky called as he grimaced at his tie, undoing the knot and attempting it again. In the mirror, he saw Kelsey step in and close the door behind her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said softly. She walked forward and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her face against his back. “I thought we could drive over to the memorial together. Scott’s going with Bobbie.”

Lucky covered her hands with his own, then turned to face her. “Yeah, sure. You okay?”

“No.” Kelsey sighed, then walked away to sit on the edge of his bed. “Mac called before I left the office. You found two more case files in the archives?”

Lucky frowned. “No—I mean, yeah, but we found three.” He pulled out his desk chair and sat on it backwards, resting his elbow on the back of the chair. “Taggert was gone for the day when we got done, so I gave the report to Mac—we pulled three.” He hesitated. “Which cases did he tell you about?”

“Veronica Logan and Theresa Lopez—” Kelsey narrowed her eyes. “Three? Which one is missing—” She shook her head. “This is weird. This is the second time the number of cases have been wrong. Before Brooke was attacked, Taggert told Scott he had twelve untested rape kits. Nine in storage, three open—Watson, Norton, and Morris. But when Scott asked Mac, Mac told him there was fourteen. Brooke would have made it thirteen.”

“And now Mac only passed on two cases. You know—the third case was Elizabeth’s.”

“Elizabeth Webber?” Kelsey repeated. “Your ex? But I thought you said they got the guy—”

“He confessed, but they couldn’t make the case. Taggert told Elizabeth he was moving her case to cold storage, and a few weeks later, Mac told her that her rape kit had come back negative.” He told her about finding the case in the closed storage with no evidence that her evidence had ever been sent to the lab.

“Her dress was in the box?” She scowled. “Why isn’t it in Evidence? With everything else? Damn it—wait, why did you pull her case?”

“Because I thought—” Lucky exhaled slowly. “I was sure that Tom Baker was the guy. He confessed. I mean, who does that, right? And he didn’t deny it. Not in the studio that day. But I read over Brooke’s statement. You remember you told me that Brooke said the guy told her to keep quiet—”

“Yeah—”

“’Not a word.’ That’s what Brooke remembered.”

Kelsey stared at him for a long moment. “And you—that’s what Elizabeth’s attacker said to her, isn’t it? That’s what you’re going to tell me.”

“Some of it doesn’t fit,” Lucky admitted. “He didn’t—I mean, he raped her, but he didn’t beat her. She was able to leave the park on her own. With me. She had bruises, scratches. But she wasn’t like the others. And I don’t know about the hair. She didn’t remember a lot of details at first. But it was in the park, it was at a fountain—it was after the movies. At night. With a guy who said not a word.”

Kelsey exhaled slowly. “And for some reason, this case was put into cold storage, the evidence mishandled, and not turned over to the DA’s office with the progress report. I’m guessing Mac didn’t tell you he was only sending over two of the cases?”

“No—” Lucky shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, Kelse.”

“On the one hand, if her case was mishandled, I can see Mac not wanting it to come to light. She still has time to file suit against the city for the domestic assault last month. But…” Kelsey shook her head. “I don’t know. You said you were teenagers—”

“Valentine’s Day. 1998.”

“Valentine’s—” Kelsey got to her feet. “Okay. Okay.” She laced her fingers together as she started to pace. “Okay. I can’t accuse the commissioner of negligence. And neither can you. We’re both rookies. No one is going to take us seriously, but—” She turned. “Taggert—he’ll get your report. I’ll talk to Scott. We’ll get Elizabeth’s case re-opened. And send the kit over to the lab with the others. Honestly, Lucky—”

“We need more,” he finished. He ran his hands down her arms. “I get it. I want to handle Elizabeth’s case right. And there might not be any physical evidence to link her to the others. She didn’t even turn over the dress for a month. She showered—”

“She did what she needed to do to get through it.” Kelsey looked at him. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, Lucky. I promise. Because if she was raped by the same man five years ago, if those other two cases are linked—then this just got a lot worse. And after what happened with Brooke, I didn’t think that was possible.”

Quartermaine Estate: Foyer

 The service, held first at the Queen of Angels church, followed by a reception in the Quartermaine garden, was somber. Ned sat in the first row, with Jax and Alexis on either side of him, Dillon next to Alexis. Lois, true to her word, didn’t show.

Afterward, he’d driven back to the estate with his grandparents and had calmly accepted the condolences and sympathy from everyone who offered it. Almost no one in Port Charles had known his daughter, but that never stopped the people of the town from trying to find any way to get into the Quartermaine family’s good graces.

Felicia and her girls had offered their sympathies, but Ned had been grateful Mac had stayed home. The only people from PCPD he wanted to see were Dante Falconieri and his friends. Even Taggert had had the decency to stay away. If Floyd had tried to show up at the church, Ned—

Well, Ned wouldn’t have been responsible for his actions.

After almost an hour, Ned slipped away from everyone else and went into the foyer to take a break. He was sitting on a chair, tucked away behind the stairwell when he heard the family room door open.

“I told you, Jason, I’ll be fine. I’m just—I’m going to lay down upstairs for a little while—no—”

He rose to his feet when the door closed as Elizabeth rolled her eyes and slowly crossed the foyer. She saw him just as she stepped onto the stairs. “Oh. Ned, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you all right? I heard you tell Jason you needed to lay down—” Ned stepped towards her, a hand extended as if to offer it to her.

“I had an issue last night, but I’m fine. Monica is just after me to take it easy and avoid stressing my body out. When I get tired, I’m supposed to stop and lay down.” She sighed, pressed a fist to her chest. “With the hearing at the end of the week, I’m trying to conserve my energy. Emily offered her room—anyway, I’m sorry to bother you—”

“You’re not. I just—” He hesitated, dragged a hand through his hair, then let it rest on the back of his neck for a moment before dropping it to his side. “I haven’t talked to you since—since—” He couldn’t say it.

She nodded. “Since,” she repeated softly. “I know I said it earlier, but I’m so sorry, Ned.”

“Thank you for—” He exhaled slowly. “You said she left you a voicemail. I never—what did she say?”

“Oh…Ned—” Elizabeth shook her head. “Don’t let that in your head, you know? It—” She pressed her lips together. “She sounded upset. Her words were slurred. I think she’d already taken the pills. She said it was better when everyone didn’t know. She wished no one knew. And then the call ended.”

“One day, I might want to listen to it,” he murmured. “Maybe not. I don’t know.”

“I’ll make sure I get it saved. Ned—”

“Don’t—don’t blame yourself. I’m glad Brooke reached out to you.” His throat tightened as he looked away. “If she’d already taken the pills, it was probably already too late by the time she did. I could have done more for her. And I’ll always regret not being a better father, but at the end of the day, whatever you and I could have done for her—it doesn’t change the fact that she was—”

He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t force the word out of her lips.

“Ned—”

“So, we need to focus on that. That some animal is attacking girls, and the police let them get away with it. He took my daughter away from us, and the PCPD—Floyd—they’re responsible for what happened to her. The same way they’re responsible for what happened to you.”

“Ned—” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Revenge sounds good. Believe me, I’ve thought about it. But at the end of the day, it won’t change what happened—”

“No, but it—” He took a deep breath. “I can’t help my daughter. But I can stop it from happening again. I will stop it. My daughter is going to be the last victim. One way or another.”

Cause standing still
Isn’t easy
When the world’s moving backwards
The world’s moving backwards
So get your fill
But please believe me
That the world’s moving backwards
The world’s moving backwards
– Moving Backwards, Ben Rector

---

Monday, July 21, 2003

PCPD: Conference Room

Taggert sighed when he saw Lucky and Cruz enter the room for their morning meeting. “Falconieri not coming in?”

“He’s spending the day with his mother and Lois, helping them with arrangements.” Cruz took a seat and frowned at him. “Did you think he’d be here? I spent half the weekend trying to convince him not to quit.”

“Yeah.” Taggert looked at Lucky who had sat down quietly. “Yeah, I get it. Look, we’re going to open up the case a bit. I don’t think that the attack in February was his first.”

Cruz exchanged a glance with Lucky. “What makes you think that?”

Taggert hesitated, then decided to not to mention the tip he’d received. “Looking over the statements that Esposito took—even in the detail they lack, there are enough common threads that make me think his MO was a little too developed in that first attack. What happened to Dana Watson is what happened to Brooke Lynn Ashton.  Grabbed after leaving the movies, near a fountain, beaten, raped, handcuffed—”

“You should have seen an escalation,” Lucky muttered. “If Dana Watson is the first victim, he should be refining his technique, right?”

“Right. Making small adjustments—or improvements.” Taggert grimaced. “But the attacks are identical, even down to the type of injuries. They’re controlled. I’m not saying that it’s impossible, it just feels like he already had his attack down before the Watson case. If he didn’t hit Port Charles, then maybe another city.” He glanced down at his records. “Including Brooke Lynn Ashton, there are thirteen open rapes going back to 1995. Four of them are from this year and already at the lab. The other nine? Scattered between 1995 and 2000. Our older case records aren’t computerized yet—nothing past 2000.”

“You want us to pull all nine?” Lucky asked, leaning forward, his eyes on Taggert. “All of them?”

Neither of them said her name, but Taggert knew what the younger man was referring to. “Yeah. Look at all of them. Bring them up. Go through them. Make me a list of possible related cases. We’re sending all of the kits to the lab thanks to the funding the new ADA got us, but I want to read and be familiar with the files before we get any lab work back.  Maybe we can close a few other cases even if they’re not linked. Let’s try to do some good.”

He got to his feet, then hesitated, looked back at them. “What happened to Brooke this weekend—what happened to her and the other women—that’s on the PCPD, but it’s not on you two. Or Falconieri. We’re trying to do better, but it’s not going to happen overnight.”

“Are we done throwing women under the bus?” Cruz muttered as he and Lucky stood. When Taggert just raised his brows at him, Cruz shrugged. “Brooke Lynn Ashton wasn’t the first woman to get screwed over by this department in the month I’ve worked here. I’m just not sure who we’re serving and protecting.”

“Everyone,” Taggert told him. “But yeah, it doesn’t always feel that way. We’re trying, Rodriguez. I’m trying. We need to work this case and bring him to justice before another woman gets attacked. Let’s focus on getting that much right.”

Quartermaine Estate: Patio

Dillon had set eyes on Georgie Jones on his first day in Port Charles and had fallen for her, hook, line, and sinker the minute she’d grabbed him at that pay phone, kissed him, and told him to play along for her sister.

For the last five months, they’d been dating, and he’d been happy. She, along with Maxie and Lucas, were really the first friends he’d ever made and kept for more than a few weeks and Dillon had been enjoying that. Until Brooke had shown up and reminded him how lonely he’d been once.

Georgie had come over to keep him company as his family got ready for Brooke’s memorial service, but so far, she’d just fretted over the treatment her stepfather was receiving in the newspapers and tabloids. And she was dancing around the real reason Mac was under fire that day—

“Just say it,” he told her after nearly twenty minutes of listening to her ramble and tell stories about what a good guy Mac was. “You didn’t come over here because you were worried about me. You came to say something.”

Georgie pressed her lips together, grimaced. “I just—I know your family is grieving, I guess, even though they barely knew Brooke, and I get Ned is devastated, but they’re taking it out on Mac and he’s going to end up fired—”

“They’re taking it out on him,” Dillon repeated, “because your stepfather fucked up royally and now my niece is dead. Four women have been brutally attacked and raped.” He snorted. “But yeah, Mac’s a great guy. He’s an idiot, Georgie—”

She lunged up from the patio chair. “He works so hard, Dillon. You have no right—”

“He didn’t notice a serial rapist was working in the park,” Dillon shot back. “And then when he did figure it out, he let the mayor get away with being a giant dick about tourism and didn’t tell anyone. Tell me, Georgie, why didn’t you and Maxie go with us in the park to look for Brooke? Did he warn you?”

Georgie paled, looked away, and swallowed hard. “He told us we shouldn’t go in the park after dark. But he’s always said that, Dillon. It wasn’t new.”

“Bullshit. He warned you without telling you. Brooke didn’t get that warning. And now she’s dead—” He waved a hand at her, dismissing her as he turned to go back in the house.

“She’s not dead because of my father!” Georgie snapped back. “She took a bunch of pills—” She stopped abruptly when Dillon spun back to confront her, his eyes wide. “I didn’t mean that, Dillon. I know she was hurting—”

“It took weeks for you to give her a chance.” He shook his head. “It took all of us weeks to give her a chance, and when she needed someone in her corner, where were we?”

“We tried—she kicked us out—”

“We shouldn’t have gone. I should have known better. I never had anyone growing up. I knew how lonely she was—” Dillon shook his head. “I’m not going to ask my brother and my family to let up on the PCPD. They’re morons and right now, your stepfather is their king. So, don’t come over here again defending him.”

“I won’t!” Georgie stomped down the steps of the patio, obviously opting to exit through the garden entrance to the estate, bypassing the house.

He couldn’t believe Georgie, of all people, would have come here less than two days after Brooke had died, trying to defend the man responsible. He didn’t care what kind of saint Mac Scorpio was. Brooke was dead, and it was, at least partially, his fault.

Quartermaine Estate: Front Room

 “This is not the conversation I need to be having the day before I bury my daughter,” Ned said as he turned away from the window and looked back at his grandfather.

“I apologize for the timing,” Edward said gruffly, his usual fire and brimstone dimmed with grief and weariness. “But you want someone to pay for what happened at the PCPD, and if we can’t find someone to run against Floyd in November, it’ll have to be you.”

Ned scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to find the energy to explain to Edward why it was a terrible idea for him to run for mayor.

Except…why not?

Why shouldn’t it be him?

It couldn’t have been him before Brooke…he would have been putting her in the spotlight, making a terrible situation even more horrific for his daughter. But she was gone.

And someone had to pay for that. Could Ned even believe that the PCPD would find the animal who had raped her, who had driven her to take so many pain pills that she had—

No. If Floyd stayed in office, he’d keep Mac as commissioner, and the two of them would just keep protecting one another, leaving the citizens of the city to rot. Throwing away women like his little girl so they could keep their power.

Who knew the damage they could do better than Ned? He’d watched them as they’d screwed up Carly Corinthos’ kidnapping, leaving her rescue up to the woman Ric had been drugging and abusing to the point poor Elizabeth had nearly died. He had a front row seat to the damage their political cover-ups had done to his family—

His daughter was never going to have a chance to grow up. To write her songs, to make the music she’d dreamed of for so long. She’d been broken, irreparably, by some piece of trash that the PCPD had let wreak havoc for months without once warning the public—

And it was because of Floyd. The poison started at the top. So maybe it was time to rip it out at the roots.

“Get me the paperwork,” Ned told Edward. “I’ll do it.”

Brownstone: Backyard

Lucas sighed as he watched his cousin delicately adjusting the strap of her tank top to avoid tan lines on her shoulders. Maxie laid back on the lounger and peered over at him as he sat down and set a glass of lemonade next to her. “I told you I’d get it. I came over to cheer you up.”

That’s what she had announced a half hour ago when she’d shown up on his doorstep with her sunglasses and suntan lotion tucked in a tote bag slung over her shoulder. Then she’d arranged herself on the lounger in his backyard which reminded him that his house got better afternoon sun than hers.

He adored his silly and frivolous cousin, and she had, in her own way, brightened his day.

“It feels weird to be affected by any of this,” he said after a long moment. “Two weeks ago, Brooke was Dillon’s family, someone we were tolerating because we liked him. I mean, I had maybe a handful of conversations with her that were longer than five seconds. Do I even have a right to be upset about any of this?”

“Listen.” Maxie peered at him over the tips of her dark lenses. “Time is dumb. Who gets to decide how long you gotta know a person before you get to be sad about losing them? You liked Brooke. I know you did. And so did Dillon. And I bet she and I were gonna be friends, mostly because I think she really annoyed Georgie, and you know how that gets me going. We get to be sad about what’s never gonna happen just as much as we’re sad about what did.”

She sighed, then looked back up at the sky. “Plus, we’re not just feeling sad. We’re feeling guilty. If we had just stopped worrying about ourselves for five minutes, maybe we could found her faster. Or maybe—”

“Or maybe I could stop picking fights with your idiot boyfriend.”

Maxie raised a brow as if to say, well, duh. “But my idiot boyfriend could also not take the bait. He feels just as shitty as we do, Lucas.” She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the seat. “I know you don’t like Kyle. And I get that he did something incredibly stupid and awful, but I’m not exactly innocent, you know? I’m not perfect. And I don’t get to demand perfection from anyone else. He’s a dumb jock who’s figured out he’s a dumb jock. He wants to do better. I’m happy with him. I’d like you to give him a chance.”

“Yeah. Well…” Lucas hesitated. “I need to tell you something, Maxie. I haven’t told you before because I didn’t know how you’d deal with it. And I wasn’t ready to tell my mom. But I told Brooke. And I told Mom. I’m done hiding.” He waited until Maxie slid the sunglasses to the top of her head. “I’m gay.”

His cousin stared at him for a long moment. “Okay.”

Lucas squinted. “I mean, gay, Maxie. Like I have a boyfriend. His name is Felix.”

“Okay.” She pursed her lips. “Can I meet him?”

A bit at sea over her nonplussed response, Lucas cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I guess. You know what gay is—”

“Oh, Oh, I’m not reacting right, am I?” Maxie squared her shoulders, tossed her hair back. “Okay, let’s do it again. I can be way more dramatic. From the top.”

He laughed, then switched to sit next to her. He slung an arm over her shoulder in a partial hug. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad Brooke was someone you could come out to,” Maxie told him. “I figured she was into girls because she totally checked out my ass a few times. I wish I could have known her longer.” She exhaled slowly. “Georgie’s fighting with Dillon because of the stuff Ned and his family are saying in the papers, you know.”

“Yeah, I read it. And I saw the news last night.” Lucas returned to his seat. “Georgie’s always been more sensitive about these things—”

“Georgie has a hard time seeing people for who they are,” Maxie said with a shake of her head. “She still thinks my dad is this awesome guy who’s sacrificing his own life to save lives. Sure, Frisco’s doing good work for someone out there, but he’s also a guy who finds adventure more interesting than being a father. Mac’s the only dad I really remember. And it sucks to find out he’s human.”

She reached for her lemonade. “He told me and Georgie to stay out of the park. He didn’t tell me why. I mean, damn it, Lucas, he’s supposed to protect people. Why didn’t he protect Brooke? Or those other girls in the paper? Can’t Georgie see that Mac screwed up?”

She twirled the straw in the glass with a heavy sigh. “How do I make those guys fit in my head? The dad I grew up with, who could do no wrong—how could he be the same kind of guy who just…abandoned the people he was supposed to protect?”

Port Charles Municipal Building: Scott Baldwin’s Office

 Kelsey dropped some paperwork on the conference table as she took her seat across from Scott. “Taggert had the rookies in his division send over the rape kits from the nine open cases in cold storage.”

“Good, good. When does he expect the results back?”

“Well, we put a rush on the orders,” Kelsey told him as she tied her hair back in a ponytail. “The original three victims from this year were sent over last week, Brooke Ashton’s last Wednesday. We should have them back sometime in August. And then probably the last nine first week of September.”

Scott grimaced. “Science needs to move faster—” He looked at her. “How many cases did you say were in cold storage?” He started sifting through his notes, looking for a list he’d made after a meeting with Mac. “He sent me a list of open rapes before—”

“Nine in cold storage, four active, so thirteen…” Kelsey tilted her head. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t think about it at the time, but back when Taggert took over Major Crimes, he said he wanted to send over twelve kits. He had the three open, and nine from cold storage. That makes sense. Brooke makes thirteen.”

“So?”

“So, when Floyd was yelling at me and Mac last week, Mac said fourteen—” Scott found the list of cases and counted them, sliding his fingers down the list. “There are only twelve on this list, too. This was made before Brooke.”

“Maybe Mac messed up the number. He hasn’t really been on top of the rape cases.” Kelsey tapped her pile of paperwork. “It’s not like we don’t have proof he’s not always great with the details.”

“Yeah, I guess. You said the rookies are working on the cold cases?”

“Yeah, Taggert sent them down to storage to pull everything that was open so he could go through them. Make sure this is the first time our guy has hit Port Charles. I agree with him — the style is too specific to be brand new. Unless he’s unique in some way. He also just wants to be familiar with them if the kits come back with a hit.” Kelsey leaned forward to peer at the paperwork in front of Scott. “The Lansing case?”

“Yeah.” Scott sighed. “Lansing is making noises about credibility of the witnesses. Liz and Carly are both seeing therapists — that’ll be easy to explain since he tried to kill them both and they’re traumatized. But he must know something about Sonny, because he warned me he’s putting together a subpoena on that.” He shook his head. “Liz has a hearing to renew the protection order on Friday.”

“I’ve seen the evidence, Scott. She should be a shoo-in—”

“Yeah, well, it’s before the same judge that slapped the injunction on Morgan for Liz’s power of attorney and dragged his feet about letting us arrest Ric for the kidnapping. I don’t trust the family court when it comes to Liz.” He grimaced as he continued to make notes. “Plus, he’s gonna use the fact that Liz is dating Morgan now as evidence of something. He’s an asshole and they always get away with bullshit like this.”

He set his pen down. “I’ve been thinking of maybe offering him some sort of deal.”

Kelsey lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Because this is a big case. And your handling of it has been basically the only thing the media likes. You got a lot of good ink when you got held in contempt—”

“Yeah, well…” Scott huffed. “That’s not why I did it. I’m looking at these subpoenas, and even though Ric can’t make Liz and Carly give him statements prior to trial, he’s defending himself. How can I put them through a trial and testimony? He nearly killed Elizabeth, and Carly’s still in therapy.”

“So, you’d offer him a plea?” Kelsey wrinkled her nose. “He’s on the hook to go away for life if the right judge gives him consecutive sentences. You think it would make them happier if he spent less time in prison?”

“The difference between parole in twenty-five years and no parole at all isn’t much. Liz and Carly might be okay with twenty-five years of a Ric-free existence. Look, I’m just thinking about it.”

“You’d talk to them first, right?” Kelsey bit her lip. “I mean, not just talk, Scott. You should ask them. They may want to testify. It might be something they’re looking forward to.”

“If I didn’t talk to them first, Bobbie would cut my head off, and believe me, she’s already not so happy with me these days.” He sighed. “Let’s talk about the other open cases. What’s on the docket this week?”

Condo: Hallway

 When Emily had suggested Jason and Elizabeth join her and Lucky for dinner at Kelly’s, Elizabeth had been hesitant, but Jason and Lucky seemed to be fine together. Apparently, Emily told her, they’d worked together while Elizabeth had been in her coma. Another sign that her ex-boyfriend was starting to feel comfortable in his own skin again.

They’d tried not to talk about what brought Emily back to Port Charles this time, but it was difficult to stay off the topic of Brooke. Lucky didn’t talk about the investigation, but it was on their minds. Afterwards, she and Jason said goodbye to his sister and Lucky, then took a drive on the cliff roads.

But Brooke was still in her head when they got back to her condo building and Elizabeth couldn’t shake the feeling that she could have done more to help the younger woman.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she put her key in her lock and glanced at Jason as he leaned against the wall. “I’m not great company tonight.”

He tipped his head to the side. “You want me to leave?”

“No.” She pushed her door open, feeling very sure about that. “No. I guess I’m just—I’m thinking about Brooke again. About these last few weeks since that letter from Baker…since I found out Ric was drugging me for so long…” She closed the door and tossed her keys on the coffee table.

She could still see the last vestiges of the sunset on the horizon as she crossed to her large window overlooking the harbor. “And I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened to me back then. Did I tell you it was the same…the same place as Brooke? In the park?”

She glanced over her shoulder as he drew closer to her, his brow furrowed. “You said something that night, I think.”

“I couldn’t remember anything for weeks.” She managed a smile, her face reflected dimly in the glass in front of her. “I didn’t want to remember anything. It came back in fits and starts, you know? I remembered something he said to me. The way he smelled. But I still pushed away most of it. Until I started seeing Gail. God, it all came back so fast during one session, but still I couldn’t let myself remember all of it—”

She sighed and turned to face him, leaning against the window. “You remember when you came home that August?”

“Yeah.”

“I had cut my hair short.” Elizabeth touched the ends of hair. “Shorter than I had in years. Because I remembered the way he had touched it. He had wrapped his fingers in it. Smelled my hair. If I could have dyed it without explaining to anyone, I might have. I settled for chopping—” She hesitated, seeing the wince on his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m talking about this—”

“It’s—” Jason shook his head, looked away. “I knew before that night at Jake’s—before you told me. I knew what you’d been through. Logically. Until these last weeks—until that letter from Baker—I don’t think I ever really understood it.”

“Jason—”

“What you went through. What you still go through.” He turned away, then sat on the sofa, put his head in his hands. “I can’t make it go away. I can’t make it stop. And I keep thinking about that night—when I told you I had gone to see him—”

“Hey.” She perched on the coffee table in front of him, slid her fingers under his chin so he’d look at her. “Jason.”

“I listened to you, and I just—I remember that day at the docks. When I saw you and I saw that you had cut your hair.” His mouth twisted. “Do you know what I thought when I saw you?”

“No.” She tilted her head. “Tell me.”

He hesitated, but then shrugged. “I always liked your hair, I guess. I’d never really thought about it. But you were just—I liked it. I wanted to—” He shook his head. “It’s not—”

“When I saw you that day,” Elizabeth told him, “when I ran to you on the docks, and you hugged me—I was attracted to you. Is that what you don’t want to say? That a haircut I got made me more attractive to you?”

“It’s not the right time—”

“It is,” Elizabeth pressed. “Because if I let you back away from this—it’s like I need to be protected from the way you feel about me. The way I thought you felt.”

“Elizabeth—”

“It’s not like I wrote you before that day and said I remembered that my rapist did something disgusting with my hair, so I cut it as short as I could without people asking questions. You came home, you saw me, and you liked it. I’m glad. I mean, if we’re sharing embarrassing memories — when I used to change your bandage that winter you were shot—I used to fantasize about licking you.”

A startled laugh escaped his lips and he dipped his head. “Christ. It’s not the same—”

“No, but you know? I hated that haircut and it’s taken forever to grow out. Now? Knowing you thought I was hot with it—” Her smile felt wicked. “I kind of want to cut it again.”

He smiled again, but his eyes were still sad. “Elizabeth—” Jason shook his head, rose to his feet to walk to the window, then paced back to the sofa. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. To say. Are you okay? This isn’t even about me—”

She crossed to him, where he stood by the table, reaching out her fingers to twist in the soft tan fabric of his t-shirt. She could feel the muscles of his abdomen tense beneath the shirt. “I told Bobbie after it happened that I didn’t think I could ever be with someone again. Not the way I could have before then. She told me it would be okay someday, but I didn’t believe her.”

“But you found Lucky.”

“I did,” Elizabeth admitted. “But it was sweet. And light. Gentle. If he’d lived—the version of him that I loved so very much—if that Lucky hadn’t died, I don’t know what would have happened. But I put myself back into a box. Until you.”

Jason frowned slightly, shook his head. “I don’t—”

“The first time we were on your bike,” Elizabeth said, tipping her head up. “I climbed on behind you and wrapped my arms around you. I felt tingly all over. I didn’t even really understand what I was feeling. Not then. It was new. And it was good.”

“Elizabeth—”

“And when you were half naked for weeks in my studio?” Her cheeks were flaming. “You probably could have just crooked your finger at me, and I would have followed you anywhere. You gave me that back. That sense of being a woman. Of knowing that I could feel that way again.”

“I didn’t do—”

“No, you didn’t. It was just enough that you were there, that you were kind, and that you were my friend. I felt safe with you. Safe enough that if you hadn’t left. If things had been different—” She lifted a shoulder. “Things would have been different.”

“You weren’t ready,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. His hands drifted down her shoulders, his fingers warm through the cotton of her shirt. “It was better that way.”

“Maybe,” she allowed. “Jason, what I went through—I went through it. And I’m on the other side. Mostly. I’ll have bad moments. And they’re not going to be easy for either of us. I really don’t want it or anything else to be the reason you step away from me. Or this. Not when we’re finally on the same page at the same time.”

“I don’t want that either.”

Their eyes met and she wasn’t entirely sure who had moved first, but then he was kissing her. Not just with the sweetness and gentleness they’d shared for the last few weeks, but with something more. Or maybe he’d just stopped holding back.

She wrapped her fingers in his t-shirt as his hands dived into her hair, tilting her head back as Jason drew her closer.

“Jason—” she managed to say. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He hesitated again, his breath warm and quick against her lips. His eyes asked the question silently and she answered it with a rocking of her hips against him.

There had been enough waiting, enough talking, and she was done with it. Done with waiting for her life to start over. Waiting to take the next step. Waiting to give herself to this man that she had loved for so long.

Somehow, they were in the bedroom, but it wasn’t fast and quick. It was the dreamy slow motion she’d fantasized about so often. She stripped him of his shirt, and then he peeled hers over her head.

Their jeans hit the floor at some point, and then they were on the bed. The tingles she had told him about earlier were back, but they were like piercing needles as the tension built inside her. She wanted his hands everywhere at once, and if not, then maybe his mouth—everywhere he touched her felt like fire.

He slid inside her like she’d always been waiting for him, and she drew in a sharp breath, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Elizabeth—” Jason’s movements stilled as his hands framed her face, his thumb catching on his tears. “Are you—”

“It’s just…so much more than I ever imagined,” she managed, her voice trembling. “Doesn’t it just…feel right?”

He leaned down, brushed her lips softly. “Yeah.” His hand slid down her bare torso, hooking her knee higher and she gasped at the sensation. How could anything that felt this good be legal?

When the end came, everything shattered inside her. Dimly she could her name was on his lips. And then it was quiet, the only sound in the room was that of their own shallow breathing.

Until she started to gasp for air, clutching at her chest as she frantically rolled away from him, reaching for the oxygen tank at the side of her bed.

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you when
She stands under my colors, oh and
Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be, no
Ain’t even gray, but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life,
Well, I’ve had just enough time
– If I Die Young, The Band Perry

---

Sunday, July 20, 2003

Kelly’s: Courtyard

“I wish I knew what to do with all this anger,” Bobbie said as she leaned back to allow Penny Ramirez to place her salad in front of her. “I almost hope the Quartermaines take on the city for what happened to Brooke, and maybe you should go after them, too—”

Elizabeth grimaced. “Jason and I talked about it again last night. Justus called me to ask if I was interested in changing my mind. He said he was looking over my paperwork and with what happened with Brooke—but I can’t see myself using Brooke that way and—I was angry about what Capelli did—”

Restless, she swirled her straw in her glass of ice, swishing it from side to side. “He was suspended, and I know Taggert put Lucky and those other rookies on the house. What happened to me isn’t even the same league—” She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe they’re still investigating rapes the same way they were five years ago. It seems insane to me.”

“The rape kit?” Bobbie huffed. “When I think of how hard it was to convince you to turn over your dress and go in for that exam at all—” She shook her head. “To think that it sat for months—”

“I mean nothing came of it, but—” Elizabeth shrugged. “They couldn’t have known that. And how many other women’s cases sat on a shelf, going colder and colder.” She bit her lip. “How is Lucas? He was upset yesterday—”

“Well, that’s at least one good thing that came from all of this.” Bobbie managed a smile. “He said he spoke to you yesterday, so I know you know. He came home yesterday and introduced me to Felix.”

“Felix,” Elizabeth said slowly, not entirely willing to assume how much Lucas had told his mother. “His friend from college?”

“His boyfriend from college,” Bobbie corrected. “To be honest, I suspected for the last year or so—he’s never really had a girlfriend and, well…I’m glad he felt like he could finally live his truth. I don’t know if he’s coming out to anyone else right now, but thank you, Elizabeth. For being there for him yesterday.”

“I’m glad he was able to talk to you. I wish everyone would be as kind to him, but…” Elizabeth picked up her fork. “The world is a terrible place.”

“And I worry about him,” Bobbie admitted, “but at least he doesn’t have to hide from me anymore. And I’m sure Tony will be understanding. I encouraged him to open up to his father, so hopefully…” She scowled as a woman passed by them, heading into the diner. She carried a tote bag that with a sticker proclaiming I’M WITH FLOYD 2003. “I wish someone were running against him.”

“Can’t believe in a city this size we’re stuck with one guy running. Floyd’s been mayor since I moved here. How is that possible?”

“Money and connections.” Bobbie shook her head. “And with ten days left to register for the election, we’ll probably be stuck with four more years of corruption and cronyism. And don’t—” She stabbed her fork in Elizabeth’s direction. “I see your wheels turning. I’m not running against him.”

“Well someone has to and since I’m currently dating a coffee exporter, I’m not eligible.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I just—I hate that Brooke’s family has to deal with this. I hate that this happened. I wish I could have been there for her—”

“You were there, Elizabeth. She called you, she reached out—it’s tragic you missed the call—” Bobbie pressed her lips together. “BJ nearly missed her bus that day. I called for her to hurry up. You went on a ride with your boyfriend. It’s terrible, but it’s human.” She paused for a moment. “Was this—did you ever think of…”

“You mean did I ever think of just doing something to make it all stop?” Elizabeth asked. She folded her arms on the table. “I don’t know. I spent a lot of those first days laying in bed, wanting the world to leave me alone. But I also—I had a goal. I didn’t want anyone to know, and I started measuring my days that way, congratulating myself every day I got through where I kept my secret. I had you to lean on in those first few days—you, Luke, and, of course, Lucky. And then once my grandmother found out—it just started to get easier to breathe.”

She bit her lip. “But if I’d gone through what Brooke did? She was beaten, Bobbie. Given pain pills to cope with her injuries. It was so hard to sleep those few days, and sleep was the only time I could really make it go away. If I’d had something to help me sleep…I don’t know.” She leaned back in her chair. “I hope those rape kits come back and they find this bastard in the system somehow. I want this to be over. I don’t want another girl to go through this.”

Port Charles Hotel: Jax’s Penthouse

Jax put a glass of water down in front of Ned as his friend sat on his sofa, pouring over paperwork spread out over the dark coffee table, but Ned didn’t even look up.

There had been no question of returning to the gate house after leaving the hospital the night before—Lois had gone back to the suite she was sharing with Olivia, shell-shocked and devastated.  And Ned?

Ned hadn’t yet slept. Hadn’t eaten. And would likely not even touch the water at his side.

Jax knew grief — though both of the women he had mourned had turned out to be alive, it hadn’t changed the years of suffering, the lingering ache of sadness. He had watched Brenda’s mother drive that car over the cliff, had searched for her for days, had chased her image around the world, desperate for any hint of her existence.

He would have gone to the ends of the earth to bring back either Miranda or Brenda, but he could not imagine the devastation of losing a child.

Alexis touched his shoulder, jarring him from his thoughts. She tipped her head towards the kitchen, so Jax followed her, leaving Ned engrossed in the newspaper clippings and legal statutes. Brooke’s death had only increased his resolve to go after the city in some way.

“I don’t know how to get him through this,” Alexis confessed, her voice hushed. “He’s been through so much this year—when we lost Kristina last year, then my daughter born prematurely—he had to take care of her—” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to help him.” She looked towards the doorway. “He’s looking for revenge.”

“It’s all he knows,” Jax murmured. He leaned against the kitchen island and dragged a hand through his unruly blonde hair, disheveled from his own lack of rest. “He’s like me. Raised to locate the vulnerability and exploit it for my own gain. It’s what makes us good at our jobs—”

“But shit at personal lives. I know.” Alexis scrubbed her hands over her face. “He’s going to sue the city, but it’s not going to make it better. It never does.”

“Planning revenge gets him through today,” he offered. “And maybe tomorrow. But yeah, he’s gonna look up one day and realize it didn’t get him anywhere.” He crossed his arms. “Have you thought about distracting him with Krissy?”

Alexis heaved a sigh. “I’m thinking it might be selfish to keep asking Ned to maintain this lie.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “He was never supposed to be involved with raising her. It was just a fiction to keep Sonny away from her. But once—”

“Once you faked a mental illness to get out of paying for tossing that pissant over the balcony, the game changed. Yeah, I know.” Jax tipped his head to the side. “Nothing’s changed, Alexis. And it might be good for Ned. He’ll be a better father to Krissy than Sonny ever was.”

“I guess. I don’t know. I just—I wish I knew how to help him.”

“We’re going to help him get his revenge,” Jax said plainly. “However it has to happen, that’s what we’ll do. And then we’ll be there to pick up him when it’s over. We’ll stick together. Just like we always have.”

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Lucky hesitated when he entered the courtyard, finding Elizabeth sitting at one of the tables, sipping an iced tea. He hadn’t seen her since his memories—and his emotions—had started to return. They were still a jumble of visions and images that didn’t feel like they made a lot of sense — but the time before the fire, that was starting to feel crystal clear.

And those memories—which had been damaged even before the last round of brainwashing—had him taking a deep breath and approaching her table. “Hey. Do you mind if I sit down?”

She glanced up and offered him a hesitant smile. “Yeah. Sure.  I just had breakfast with Bobbie, but she had to run to the hospital. Actually, I’m glad you’re here. Emily landed this morning and we’re meeting for drinks.”

Lucky wasn’t entirely sure she meant that, but he took the seat across from her. “There are some things I have to say to you—things I didn’t tell you the last time we really talked. Or…after the wedding.”

Elizabeth set the menu down and leaned forward, folding her elbows on the table. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I mean—yes. Sort of.” He scratched his temple, trying to figure out exactly how to explain himself. “You know that Helena used the Ice Princess on me to…mess with the way I felt about you. The way I remembered you.”

“I do.” She tipped her head. “Are you starting to remember?”

“What I never told anyone is that…” He hesitated. “Is how far back she’d messed with my memories. When I came home, a lot of my life was…it was like swiss cheese, you know? Holes everywhere. I had trouble remembering my childhood, the people in my life—and you—she hadn’t figured out how to erase emotions but memories—those were messed up.”

“When you came home originally?” Elizabeth asked. She blinked. “But—”

“I loved you—I knew I loved you—but I couldn’t remember why.” He fisted his hands on the table. “And then last year, she wiped all of my memories with you. Nikolas knew the memories were gone, too. Not just the emotions. But everything.”

He finally looked up to meet her eyes. They were soft and deep with sorrow. “Elizabeth—”

“I wish you could have told me that,” she murmured. “I’m sorry we were so far apart by then, Lucky. I’m glad Nikolas could be there for you.”

He exhaled slowly, feeling like his lungs could expand fully for the first time in years. “I tried at first to pretend it was all okay. But I couldn’t. And I started doing a lot of dumb things. I hurt you. And I wasn’t there for my mother when she needed me—” He looked away, pressure building behind his eyes. “I’m good at running away. I ran from you. I ran from my mother. After we rescued my dad last year, I couldn’t pretend anymore. My family was gone. You were gone. I didn’t have anything left.”

“But you’re doing better now,” Elizabeth said softly. “Aren’t you? Bobbie said you liked your job.”

“I met Dante and Cruz at the academy, and they didn’t know me before. They just know me now.” He hesitated. “It made it easier.” He managed a smile. “And then I met Kelsey.”

Elizabeth returned his smile. “Kelsey Joyce? From the DA’s office?”

“Yeah. It’s…new, but it’s nice.” He sat back. “And everything that’s good about my life right now—the things that are working—it just reminded me how things ended with you. How horrible I feel about all of that—”

“I think of how much damage we did to each other,” she murmured, tilting her head to the side. “Trying desperately to recapture those moments before the fire. Everything seemed so perfect, you know? I was in love with my best friend, planning an incredible future. I kept searching for that boy, Lucky. I hurt you. I hurt myself. I hurt people I cared about. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucky said with a fervent shake of his head. “Because I know I made it worse. I made you feel like you were responsible for me. And you weren’t. We were all young and we were dealing with something that just…had no easy answers.” He leaned back in chair. “It’s been coming back this last week. Since I got to the park. I interviewed Dillon and I just—I knew the way he was feeling. The guilt, The anger. I could feel it boiling in my veins.”

He grimaced, looked away. “What happened to Brooke was—it was terrible, but we made it worse. We could have stopped it. They knew there was a serial rapist. The DA’s office made the link after the third attack, and Taggert officially took over the cases just before Brooke was attacked, but the mayor decided to block the warning. Couldn’t have it screwing up the summer tourism—” Lucky shook his head. “I’m sorry. This—”

“I was thinking about the pain Brooke must have been feeling and remembering how much I wanted the whole world to go away back then. Bobbie asked if…” Elizabeth stared down at her glass, feeling the condensation with her fingertips. “She asked me if it was something I dealt with. I mean, taking something to make it go away. And I just—I had you. And I had Bobbie, and your dad in his own bumbling way.”

A tear slid down her cheek even as she smiled. “The first day I didn’t go back to school, you came over and—my window was right over the front door? Remember? I was laying in my bed, curled up, with the blankets pulled over my head. Blocking out the world. But I could hear you. I knew I wasn’t alone.”

“I should have taken you to the dance, Elizabeth. We had a deal—”

She laughed, shaking her head even as she wiped at her years. “God, Lucky, no. You had to know I thought it was a date, and you were probably excited at a chance to make it seem like it wasn’t. You liked Sarah. You had your chance. I don’t blame you. I never did.”

“I know. And I tell myself all the time it’s not my fault, but—” He sighed. “I just want to do better. I want to do better by the women this asshole has hurt because it’s the right thing to do, but now because I remember how angry I was when we found out Baker wasn’t going to jail for what happened to you—”

“If I could have been more calm about the whole thing,” Elizabeth said, “if I hadn’t caused a mistrial, Dara Jensen never would have had to make a deal with him.” She bit her lip, drawing it between her teeth. “Baker’s up for parole soon. He sent me some sort of letter last week. I didn’t—I didn’t read it. But he’ll be out soon.”

“Well, that’s one thing Jason’s good for—” Lucky said with a rueful smile. “You’ll probably have a bodyguard.” He blinked. “Do you not have one today?”

“Cody’s inside watching me.” She twisted and gave her guard a little wave. “Jason doesn’t think Ric will approach me in public. Especially since he got permission to go to Crimson Point and stay with his father until the trial. It helps knowing he’s not in Port Charles.”

“It doesn’t worry you?”

Elizabeth jerked a shoulder. “Maybe it should. But what can he can he do to me that he already hasn’t? I have a restraining order, at least for a little while longer. I have a bodyguard. I’m out in public.” She lifted her chin. “I lived my life in fear for months, Lucky, back after my rape. I’m not going to do it again. I can’t let fear run my life.” She raised her brow. “Plus, Justus agreed to come back and take Jason and Sonny’s job offer, and he’s already set me up with the best divorce attorney in the state to handle my case. Ric isn’t going to run my life. Not ever again.”

“Fair enough.”

Emily came into the courtyard, then and Elizabeth hurried to her feet to hug her best friend. Lucky also got up and hugged his oldest friend. It was good to have her back. Especially now that he was starting to feel like himself for the first time in years.

“I’m so glad to see you, even though I wish you weren’t coming home for this,” he said as he drew back, leaving a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about Brooke.”

“It’s terrible,” Emily agreed, but she managed a smile. “But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Port Charles Hotel: Suite

Lois placed the phone back on the receiver, then leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. It was easy to focus on the details of arranging for her daughter to be taken home to Bensonhurst, to purchase a plot in the cemetery, arrange for a viewing with her family and friends back home.

It was easy as long as Lois told herself it wasn’t real. That it was someone else who had died, that everything she had done so far today was for someone else’s child. Not her baby.

Not her Brooke.

In the armchair adjacent to the sofa, Olivia sat with her own lists and papers. She had spent the morning in her bedroom, making phone calls. Olivia Falconieri was more than her best friend, she was family. Her mother was Lois’s godmother, and Gloria Cerullo was Olivia’s. They were god sisters, and in their heavily Catholic neighborhood, that meant something.

Annoying as Olivia often was, Lois knew she couldn’t get through this without her. Olivia had volunteered to call extended family and relatives to tell them about Brooke, leaving Lois to have to tell only her parents. Not having to repeat the devastation over and over again herself—

That was something.

But maybe if she had been saying it over and over again, it would feel real. Olivia had gone into the bedroom to spare Lois from having to hear her say it, but she could imagine it in her head. She’d barely managed to get the words out to her mother — telling her that Brooke had taken too many of her pain pills, medication given to her to lessen the agony she suffered from her injuries.

Injuries.

As if the only thing wrong with her little girl were the visible cuts and bruises.

No, Brooke had been suffering inside and Lois hadn’t been able to reach her. Hadn’t been able to solve her problems. The last time she’d spoken to her daughter before the attack, Brooke had had an attitude, had snarled at her about being sent to Port Charles like she was being exiled to freakin’ Siberia—and Lois had hung up on her.

She’d have to live with that for the rest of her life. She’d hung up on her daughter. Hadn’t listened to her, hadn’t taken her complaints seriously. She’d snapped her cell phone shut and gone on with her day, not once knowing that was basically the last time she’d speak to her daughter—Brooke had barely even spoken to her after she’d woken up.

“Lois,” Olivia said hesitantly, “Monica called me while I was—in the bedroom,” she said after a brief pause. “She understands if you don’t want to come, but she and Lila would like to have something at the house for Brooke.”

Lois squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to go back to that house. Not to the main house where her life with Ned had fallen apart, and certainly not to the gatehouse where Brooke’s despair had led her to the dark abyss.

But Lila had always been kind to her, and she knew from Ned that Monica and Dillon had reached out to Brooke during her time in Port Charles.

She’d come to Port Charles on Wednesday, angry and ready to burn down the world. And she’d been so angry she’d missed her daughter’s pain.

“I don’t want to go,” Lois said slowly. “I can’t—I can’t do it, twice, Liv, and my parents—they need to have something for her at home. I can’t—” Her throat squeezed shut. “I can’t say goodbye twice. But it’s okay. If they have—they can do it.”

“Okay. Do you—” Olivia joined her on the sofa and squeezed her hand. “Do you mind if I go? I’m sure Dante will, and I’m worried about him. I was thinking of hanging around Port Charles a few more weeks, just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay.” Lois drew in a shuddering breath. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay. You go to the service here, and then I can take Brookie back home—and I can never set foot in Port Charles again. That works for me.”

Scorpio House: Living Room

 Felicia squeezed her youngest daughter tightly, pressing her lips to the top of Georgie’s head. “I’m so sorry, honey, for what happened to your friend.” She looked at Mac, frowning at her ex-husband as he sat the table, his head in his hands.

Since Mac had picked her up from the airport an hour earlier, he had been quiet. Withdrawn. She knew the press was digging at him, making it all his fault. She’d come home for her girls, but also for Mac. She thought he deserved someone who was in his corner.

“Is it okay if we go out?” Georgie asked, pulling away from her mother. She swiped at her eyes. “We didn’t know you were coming today, and Maxie and I were going to check on Dillon.”

“Of course, baby.” She kissed Georgie’s cheek, then hugged Maxie before the girls left. Once they had, she turned her attention to Mac and sat next to him at the table. “Spill it.”

“It’s been a long month, Felicia.” Mac pulled away from the table and went into the kitchen. He took down a container of instant coffee and started to make himself a cup. “I’m tired.”

“Mac—”

“Look—” He turned to meet her eyes. “The newspapers aren’t wrong. I screwed up the case. I knew some of my guys weren’t doing the job right, but there was a lot going on this year. Alcazar’s murder trial, then Maxie’s overdose last spring, then Carly was kidnapped—I can’t be on top of every case.”

“Of course not—”

“But I should have told the mayor to shove it when he refused to let us issue a warning. I’m—” Mac turned, stared at the cabinets. “I’m not the commissioner this town needs.”

“Oh, come on, Mac, that’s not fair—”

“I’ll never be as good as Robert or Anna. Or even Sean.” He shook his head. “I know that’s what people think. I’m just the lesser Scorpio brother.” He looked at her. “The lesser husband.”

“That’s not fair and it’s not true.” Felicia took his elbow and forced him to turn back towards her. “I messed up our marriage. Not you. And yeah, maybe this case got messed up, but you can’t do it all. The mayor could have fired you—”

“Well, I’m done letting Floyd run my office,” Mac said as he shoved the cup into the microwave to heat it up. “This is the last time I’m going to let him make the call.”

Felicia hesitated, then furrowed her brow. “Does…are there are other times Floyd has asked for a favor?”

Mac was quiet for a minute as the sound of the microwave filled the room. “No,” he said finally. Felicia knew he was lying to her but didn’t call him on it.

If he wasn’t ready to talk about it, there was nothing she could do to force him. He looked like he was wallowing in self-pity, and she knew that wasn’t like him. She would just have to drag him back to reality before she could figure out exactly what he’d gotten himself into.  It was her turn to offer unwavering support, for all the times she hadn’t done right by him.

Warehouse: Sonny’s Office

Jason shifted uneasily in his seat as Sonny signed the last document Bernie set in front of him. Once their business manager had left, he took a deep breath. “Elizabeth still doesn’t know what Tom Baker said. I started to tell her, but—” He hesitated. “I can’t tell her, but I also can’t let it go.”

Sonny grimaced, then stood. He crossed to the minibar and poured himself a drink. “Why?”

“Because Brooke Lynn Ashton was raped at a fountain in the park.” Jason frowned at him. “And she’s dead now. She’s the fourth young woman raped near a fountain this year. Baker’s saying he didn’t attack Elizabeth. It’s gotta be the same guy.”

“Then it’s the cops’ problem isn’t it?” Sonny turned to him, squinting. Jason realized belatedly that this obviously wasn’t his first drink of the day. “I told you, the cops already know about Elizabeth’s case—”

It probably wasn’t even his third. Sonny was drinking heavily again—that was never a good sign. But Jason took a deep breath. “It’s Lois’s daughter, Sonny. And maybe the cops still think Baker’s confession stands. If he was lying that day, it means the scumbag who hurt Elizabeth is still out there—”

“When the cops find him, you can take him out.” Sonny shrugged. “Just like we’re going to do to Ric when the heat dies down. But nothing you can do until then—”

Jason shook his head. He was getting nowhere with this. He was never going to get Sonny’s approval. Good thing he hadn’t planned on waiting for it. “I already did something. I left a tip on their hotline, telling them to look at their cold cases.” When Sonny scowled at him, Jason clenched his teeth. “Look, I know all the reasons we don’t trust the PCPD, but I think Taggert can be trusted—”

Sonny sneered. “Listen to yourself — you’re telling me after everything the PCPD has done this month, you want to give them more ammunition against Elizabeth? What if they take what you give them and put it in the papers, like they did with you going to the house? Those rookies must have told the cops you were there. They twisted it. They gave it to the tabloids—”

“I know that—”

“And you want to give them a reason to discredit Elizabeth?” Sonny shook his head. “You’re not thinking clearly, Jase.” He took a seat behind the desk. “You said Elizabeth still doesn’t know what he said?”

“No.” Jason sat down. “She didn’t want to know.”

“Is that how you want her to find out? The cops leaking to the papers? And look, I get it. Taggert’s always been good to Elizabeth.” Sonny shook his head. “But you know better. She’s connected to you now. And Taggert’s been after us—” He jabbed a finger at Jason. “You tell the cops what Baker told you, it’ll be in the Sun the next day, and then Liz finds out what else you’re not telling her. You think it’ll matter that she told you not to tell her? Once it’s out there in the world? You want to put her on display again?”

“Sonny—”

“Look, I made some inquiries at the PCPD. A guy on our payroll is keeping an eye on the case. Right now, Liz’s case isn’t on their radar. If you’re right, and it’s the same guy, maybe they’ll get him, and he’ll be off the streets. You could tell her then.” Sonny leaned forward. “You broke up with my sister because she cooperated with the cops. How is what you’re doing any different?”

Jason couldn’t answer that. Couldn’t explain why it felt different. He just knew that it was, and he knew that Sonny was wrong about waiting for the PCPD to take care of it. Still, he wasn’t wrong that the wrong cop might hear this information and leak it to the press.

The press fervor over Elizabeth and Carly had only just begun to die down, mostly because of the serial rapes. If Jason went to the police now, he’d just make her part of it all over again. And hadn’t Monica told her to avoid stress? Hadn’t he put her through enough by just saving that damn letter, going to see Baker, and then decided keeping the secret was more important than what she’d asked him to do?

He’d promised her he would put her first and she’d told him to leave it alone.

“They might not pull Elizabeth’s case,” Jason said, finally. “Like you said, they believed Baker’s confession. I did—” He shook his head. “I did what I could to help, and I guess I’ll just let it be enough.”

For now. He looked at Sonny, who was already refilling his glass. Jason had a lot of other things to worry about.

Should’ve stayed, were there signs I ignored?
Can I help you not to hurt anymore?
We saw brilliance when the world was asleep
There are things that we can have but can’t keep
– One More Light, Linkin Park

---

Saturday July 19, 2003

PCPD: Squad Room

Taggert rubbed his eyes and peered over the case report for maybe the third time—he remembered that Lucky had come to him, concerned about Vinnie’s interview with the victim and now, reading over the notes Vinnie had made for the first victim—

A sour feeling rolled in his gut as Taggert read over the conclusions — victim wearing low cut dress, alone in park, no good reason to be there, says she has no enemies but has had a lot of boyfriends. Christ, this read like an interview from a workshop he’d attended a few years earlier, one in which something like this had been given as an example of what not to do.

“Taggert.”

He glanced up to find the commissioner standing by his desk, his dark eyes sober and his features drawn tight. Taggert narrowed his eyes and rose to his feet. “Mac?”

“We just had a call from dispatch. An ambulance just rushed Brooke Lynn Ashton to the hospital.” His skin was nearly gray as he continued. “An overdose.”

“An over—” A heavy weight crashed down on his chest as Taggert struggled to take his next breath. His voice raspy, he asked, “Did they—”

“Dispatch said they took her in, but—” Mac shook his head. He closed his eyes and looked away. “It didn’t look good on the scene.”

Taggert wiped his hand over his mouth, the sourness rising into his throat, burning it as he forced himself to continue. “Was it—was it deliberate?”

“We don’t know. I sent a crime scene unit to the house.” Mac hesitated. “I thought about going to the hospital, but I’m the last person anyone in that family wants to see. I should—I should do this for the PCPD, represent them, but—” He met Taggert’s eyes. “I can’t ever forgive myself for putting my job above the people of this city. I should have told Floyd to go to hell and released that warning.”

“I wish I could blame you for keeping quiet, but we’ve all made our mistakes. We all have our collateral damage. How much longer did Carly Corinthos stay locked behind those walls because of our tunnel vision? I knew Ric Lansing was drugging his wife, and I let her stay in that house. How many people have I sacrificed because of Sonny Corinthos?”

Taggert shook his head. “Promise me, Mac, that it’s over. That we’re done putting politics and our own priorities above the people we promised to protect.”

“The next time Floyd tries to bury something to save himself, he’ll have to take my badge with it.” Mac paused for a long moment. “I need to tell my girls. I need to tell them before they hear it from someone else. Will you—”

“I’ll go to the hospital, but those parents aren’t going to want to see me either.” He slid his notebook into his pocket. “This is it. This is the last woman this shitbag gets to destroy. We won’t be able to nail him for murder, but—”

“He killed her all the same.”

Kelly’s: Dining Room

When Ned’s end of the line had gone dead, Elizabeth hadn’t been able to let go of her terrible feeling. She and Jason had both tried to call everyone who might know anything, but Monica was at the hospital working and Ned’s phone just went to voice mail. Jason told her he’d head to the hospital, while Elizabeth decided to track down Bobbie.

She went to Kelly’s, hoping Bobbie might be working on the account books, but the dining room was empty between the lunch rush and dinner hour—without school in session, Kelly’s was usually dead.

Elizabeth set her purse on the counter and sighed at Lucas doing the familiar side jobs she’d performed for the better part of five years. “Hey. Is your mother around? I’ve been trying to call her—”

Lucas finished filling the last sugar canister and set it on the counter. “No, she’s out somewhere with Scott Baldwin, and we have a really crappy cell phone company.” He tipped his head. “You okay?  You look upset—”

“I—I guess I’m just trying—” She bit her lip. “Have you talked to Brooke since she got out of the hospital?” She held up a finger as her phone started to ring. She frowned when she saw it was Emily. “Wait a second—Em?”

“Oh, thank God, you answered—Oh, it’s awful, Liz—Dad just called me, and I don’t even remember the last time he cried—”

“Emily, what’s going on—” Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around the phone as her heart sank. “Em—”

“Brooke—Ned—Lois—they found her—and the hospital—they couldn’t—” Emily’s words were coming out haltingly amidst with sobs. “She took her pain meds, but they think she took too many—Oh, God, Liz, she’s gone. It was too late—”

“Emily, are you alone right now?” Elizabeth stood up, almost as if prepared to head straight to the airport and get on a plane to be with her best friend. “Em—”

“Oh, yeah. No. No, I have someone here—I’m flying home tomorrow. Oh, God, Liz.”

She spoke to her another minute, getting assurance that Emily wouldn’t be alone for the rest of the day before closing her phone and looking at Lucas who wore a grim expression.  Should she tell him? Should she wait for someone else? Was it even her place?

“What is it?” he asked. “Is it Brooke? Liz, c’mon—”

“She…” Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. “Apparently Ned and Lois found her a little while ago—” Oh, God, that was why the phone had gone dead—they must have gone to check on her— “She’d taken her pain meds and—I’m so sorry, it was too late—”

Lucas stumbled back, shaking his head. “No. No, that’s not—” He shoved his hands through his hair, gripping strands of it. “We—we were there this morning. We wanted to check on her—I let her—I let her kick me out. I knew I should have stay—I didn’t want to leave her alone—”

He sank onto the ground behind the counter. Elizabeth went to him, knelt down beside him. “Hey. Hey, you couldn’t have known. Lucas—”

“I did know. I did. I knew how upset she was. I was the only one who really knew her at all, and I let her walk away. It’s my fault this happened. I invited her to the movies—I ignored her and didn’t realize—” His voice was panicked now, the words tumbling over themselves as they rushed out of his mouth like dominoes.

“She had a right to walk through that park,” Elizabeth said. She gripped his shoulder. “Lucas—if we had known there was a serial rapist in that park—of course she wouldn’t have walked alone.”

“She’s the only one who knew—” Lucas raised his eyes to her. Swallowed hard. “She knew me. She’s the only one I told, and I’m the one she told. And now she’s gone, and she can’t ever tell her family.”

“Tell them what?” Elizabeth ignored the pain in her chest as she shifted from her seated position. “Lucas—”

“I’m gay. And I told her, and she told me she was, too, but she didn’t have a chance—”

Her heart ached for him, this brave boy holding in all those secrets and the guilt— “She told me, too, Lucas. When I went to see her. I talked to her. And she told me, too.”

He exhaled slowly, let his head fall against the wall, his eyes closed. “She thought her parents would be okay with it, but it was like—thinking it might be okay isn’t the same thing as knowing, and it’s easier to lie to yourself than be honest with everyone else—”

“I’m sorry Brooke never got the chance to come out to her parents. To her family. It’s not your fault, Lucas. But I know how it feels to think about a moment in time you’d give anything to take back. To just make a different choice.”

“If I could just stop myself from giving a damn about Maxie’s idiot boyfriend. Why did I care so much about making sure he knew he wasn’t part of the group? I should have been thinking about Brooke. It was her first night—” He took a deep breath, scrubbed his hands over his face. “I have to go to Maxie and Georgie. Find Dillon. My mother—”

He stood up and frowned as Elizabeth struggled to stand as well. “Are you okay? I know you just got out of the hospital—”

She pressed a hand to her chest, took a deep breath, and was relieved when she felt her lungs expand. “No. I’m fine. Sometimes I can’t catch my breath—”

The bell above Kelly’s jangled as the door opened and someone Elizabeth didn’t know walked in—a boy around Lucas’s age with dark skin and kind eyes.

“Lucas. I was at the hospital—” He stopped short when he saw Elizabeth standing there and just stood, his hands awkwardly at his side.

“It’s okay.” Lucas squared his shoulders and looked at Elizabeth with a half-smile. “It’s okay. She knows. Elizabeth, this is my boyfriend, Felix DuBois. Felix, this is Elizabeth Webber, a friend of the family.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Elizabeth said. “You came because you heard about Brooke?”

“Yeah.” Felix closed the distance and joined them behind the counter. He touched Lucas’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“No, but I need to be for everyone else. I’m the one they depend on.” Lucas looked at his boyfriend, tears glinting in his eyes. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m going to go find Jason and your mother,” Elizabeth told Lucas. She kissed his cheek. “You have my number if you need anything. Felix, it was so nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Elizabeth left, but looked back through the windows when she was in the courtyard to find Lucas hugging Felix fiercely, his shoulders shaking as he cried.

Luke’s: Bar

For once, the three of them had been enjoying a rare day off from work—the first they’d had at the same time since they’d begun a month earlier. When the call had come, they’d been together, and later, Lucky was grateful for that. He wasn’t sure what Dante might have done if he’d been alone.

Luke’s was closed until the evening, so they’d spent the day playing poker, having a few drinks, playing pool—just relaxing for the first time in weeks. It was a good day—a day when they’d put the stress and horror of their first days on the job behind them and just remembered how good it was to be together, best friends working the same job.

Dante had just lifted a freshly opened bottle of Rolling Rock to his lips when his phone flashed. He frowned at it. “It’s my mom—she’s texting me 911 call me. Damn it—”

He hurried to return his mother’s call as Cruz and Lucky waited, worried about what Olivia Falconieri might tell her son. The call was short, no more than thirty seconds as Dante’s face turned a sickening gray. He promised his mother he wouldn’t drive after confirming he’d been drinking and would wait for her.

Then he closed his phone and held it in the palm of his hand.

“Dante,” Cruz said. “What’s going—”

“Brooke died.” Dante stared down at the phone. “An overdose. They don’t—” He shook his head. “They don’t know if it was an accident or—”

Or if Brooke had been unable to live with the pain of what had happened to her and the media circus surrounding her. Cruz and Lucky traded looks.

He set his phone on the table and lurched from the table where they’d been playing a hand of poker. He went to the bar and took down a bottle of Jim Beam, pouring himself a shot.

“It’s my fault,” Dante said. “I knew. We all knew there was a rapist out there and we shut our mouths and toed the line. And then I leaked the damn story—and they found her—”

“Someone else leaked Brooke’s name to take the heat off of them,” Lucky interrupted. He took the bottle from Dante, afraid his friend would just start pulling straight from it. He poured shots for himself and Cruz. “You leaked the story. The media decided to run with the name of a rape victim. Not you. You wanted to protect the public. I’m just sorry I didn’t leak it myself.”

“I should have checked on her more. Ma asked me to look out for her when Brooke moved here-”

“And our first day on the job, we got thrown a case where we all pulled double shifts,” Cruz reminded his roommate. “We’ve been on the job for a month, Dante. If we knew all the answers, we’d be in charge.” He looked at Lucky. “Right?”

“Right. And look, maybe we can’t—we can’t help Brooke anymore. That pisses me off. But the other women who were attacked—we can still help them. How many women did you already help by leaking the story?” Lucky asked. “We can do whatever is necessary to find this scumbag and make sure no one else goes through this.”

“It’s not going to be enough,” Dante muttered. He threw back another shot.

“Hey.” Lucky waited until his friend met his eyes. “When I was sixteen, I found one of my friends crawling out of the park bushes, bleeding, bruised, and—” He shook his head. “Destroyed.”

“Lu mentioned it. Elizabeth Webber? The Lansing case?” Dante grimaced. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Liz and I don’t—we’re not really close anymore. For a lot of reasons. But back then, I was one of the few people who knew. I had a front row seat to watch her put herself back together, but part of me always knew—I always knew it was my fault.”

“Lucky—” Cruz began but Lucky shook his head.

“We made plans to go to a dance. And I knew—” He squeezed his eyes shut because God, these were some of the few memories of Elizabeth he’d managed to uncover in the last week. He couldn’t remember the good times, couldn’t remember loving her yet, but he could remember this—the brutal flashes of her recovery and anguish. Had she ever thought about suicide? She’d never said, but maybe—

“I knew she had a crush on me, and I knew she saw it like a date. I didn’t see her that way, so when I had the chance to go with someone else, I backed out. And Liz lied about having another date, but I think part of me always knew it was a lie.” He dragged his hands out of his hair. “When she didn’t show up at the dance or at Kelly’s, I went looking for her. If I had been ten minutes earlier—if I hadn’t backed out—”

“You weren’t a cop, Lucky. You didn’t know there was a monster lurking in the shadows,” Dante cut in. “But okay. Okay.” He swallowed hard and bowed his head, lowering it to rest against the bar. “I get it. I can’t wallow in the regrets. I can’t change anything. I just need to make it better.” He exhaled slowly, a shaky breath. “We have to find this guy. We have to stop it from happening again.”

“Yeah.” Lucky dug out his cell phone as it began to ring. “Kelsey—”

“Oh, God. Did you—”

“Dante’s mother called him. We’re here at the bar. Where are you?”

“I’m—” He could hear her crying on her end of the line. “I’m at my apartment. I called Scott, but I don’t—he said there wasn’t anything we could do, but—”

“Hey, I’m gonna come get you, okay? Dante’s going to be with his family, but I’ll bring Cruz, and we’ll just—we’ll just sit together.” He saw Cruz nod. “There’s nothing any of us can do, so we’ll just do nothing together.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

He set the phone on the desk, then sighed. “If your family needs anything, Dante—”

“Thanks.” Dante scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s gonna destroy everyone back home. I don’t—” He looked at them. “We can’t let another family go through this.”

Port Charles Grille: Dining Room

Bobbie pushed her salad around her plate, stabbing at pieces of spinach and strawberries aimlessly. Scott wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it beside his plate, frowning at her. “What’s wrong? You’ve barely said a word since you got here-”

“What—” Bobbie blinked at him, then sighed. “Oh. I’m just…worried about…” She sat back in her chair, placing her fork at the side of her plate. “About Carly. And Sonny. How they’re getting back to normal. And with Elizabeth’s hearing coming up—”

“It should be a slam dunk to get the restraining order renewed,” Scott said, “but then again, that damn judge nearly let him stay in charge of her medical care because he’s a goddamn Puritan—” he grimaced. “I guess I should be relieved for once that Jason Morgan has his own personal security. I don’t need Lansing on the loose going after Elizabeth again.”

“I appreciate how you’ve handled this case, Scott. With both Elizabeth and Carly—they’re my family,” she told him. “And I know how much you loathe Sonny—”

“Yeah, well, the law is the law, and—I still think Corinthos is the scum of the earth, but—” he shrugged. “Morgan’s different. Where he is in his life—that’s not his fault. Corinthos took advantage of him when he didn’t know any better, and this is the only life he knows now.”

“I suppose.” Bobbie sighed. “I’m just—I’m worried about Carly. About them all. Jason and Elizabeth put themselves under such pressure to find Carly—Elizabeth knew how desperate he was, how much I wanted her found—and I know she stayed longer than she should have—”

“Yeah, Corinthos was a real stand-up asshole, wasn’t he? Letting everyone else do the work.” Scott scowled, leaning back as the waiter removed their salad plates. “Worried more about keeping himself out of jail.”

Bobbie hesitated, shook her head. “He wasn’t handling it well, Scott. I think it reminded him too much of what happened to Lily and you remember that she was pregnant.”

“Another one of his victims—” Scott frowned. “Not handling it how? What, did he drink himself into a stupor? You know, if your daughter had any sense, she’d walk out on him. He treats women like crap. I’m not even talking about Karen. What about what he did to Brenda and Lily? To Hannah Scott?”

“I just wish he’d talk to someone—I don’t want it happening again. The next time, it might not be so easy to bring him back to reality,” Bobbie said. She then pressed her lips together. “I shouldn’t get into it. You’re prosecuting Ric. Sonny might be a witness.”

“Right.” Scott’s phone, tucked in the pocket of his suit jacket, jangled. He reached for it and growled under his breath. “Mac Scorpio. His officers probably screwed something else up—” He flipped it open. “Baldwin.”

His brows drew together. “What? Say that again—how—Jesus. Ned and Lois—Okay. Okay. Yeah. I’ll—I’ll be in.” He stared at his phone for a long moment before gently closing it and setting it on the table.

“Scott—”

“I knew about the serial rapist. Did I tell you that?” Scott asked. He met Bobbie’s eyes and she was surprised by the way color had leeched from his skin, leaving his complexion almost chalk gray. “But I figured it was okay to keep it quiet because at least the PCPD had linked the cases, and I was gonna keep on top of them. We didn’t need any more bad publicity.”

“Was there another attack?” Her heart felt heavy, ached as she repeated her question. “Scott, did it happen again—”

“Brooke Lynn. She took all of her pain medication, and by the time Ned and Lois found her—it was too late.”

She pressed her hands against her mouth, stifling a sharp cry. “Scott—Oh, God. Was it—”

“They don’t know. It might have been an accident.” He dipped his head. “Those parents are going through the worst thing that could happen to them because I decided it would be bad for my office if people knew there was a serial rapist loose.”

“Scott—” Bobbie just shook her head. “I should go. I want to check on Lucas, on Maxie and Georgie.” She stayed seated for another moment. “But yes. You’re right. You and the PCPD nearly killed my daughter and Elizabeth because getting Sonny was more important to you. How many more women were attacked and raped because of the PCPD and Floyd? You let it happen.”

She got to her feet. “For all that you condemn Sonny and Jason for their crimes, I wish you’d look in the mirror. Those women didn’t matter to you anymore than Carly and Elizabeth did.”

General Hospital: Emergency Room

Ned was good in an emergency—he thought quickly and coolly under pressure. When his ex-wife had been sobbing, crying, rocking their daughter in her arms, Ned hadn’t broken down.

He had picked up the phone, called the authorities, and waited for them to arrive. He’d let them in, watched with an arm around Lois’s shoulder as they laid Brooke flat on the floor and attempted to resuscitate her. He could see the looks on their faces, understood the emotions and silent conversation the paramedics shared.

His daughter was gone, but they weren’t comfortable pronouncing it on the scene. No, a Quartermaine family member had to die in a hospital, declared by a doctor. By someone who could withstand the might of an enraged family.

They had forced a breathing tube down her throat, loaded her onto a stretcher, and then whisked her out of the room. Ned had taken Lois down to their car, not even noticing when his discarded cell phone crunched under his shoes.

He would have moved faster, would have broken the laws of physics to hurry to the hospital if he’d had even one ounce of hope that upon arrival, his daughter would be alive.

But he’d touched her skin. He’d seen the way her arms moved as Lois rocked her—dangling, without life.

He stood now, outside a cubicle, watching almost passively as Lois sobbed, as Monica embraced her, kept her from sinking to the floor. He felt Alan’s hand on his shoulder but said nothing. His mother tried to talk to him, but he ignored her.

There was nothing to say, nothing to feel.

He felt empty. He felt useless. Nothing in his life experience had ever really prepared him for this. He knew how to solve other people’s problems, navigate his family through their crises.

He simply did not have the toolset for his own misery.

“Ned?”

He blinked at the sound of his name and turned to find his best friends standing just behind him, Alexis’s face tear stained, Jax at her side, like a statue of stone. Neither of them approached him, just kept their distance.

He cleared his throat, looked around and found Lois now on the seats, still sobbing but her tears were silent, her shoulders trembling as Monica and Alan sat on either side of her. Tracy was talking to a shaken Edward near the doors.

He looked back at his friends. “She’s gone,” Ned managed. The words felt wrong. They didn’t seem as if he’d even said them. “My little girl.”

“We know. Alan called us.” Alexis took a gentle step forward, but still didn’t reach out towards him. “We don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing—” His throat closed. Something lurched inside of him, a flutter really. Nothing more than that. It began deep in his stomach, traveled through his lungs and up into his brain. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs squeezed as if they’d been clamped shut.

His knees failed him, and he sank to the ground, blinking rapidly as it finally seemed to hit.

His daughter, his bright, talented, shining beacon of good and light in this world—she was gone.

A hand rested on his back, between his shoulder blades. He looked to find Jax kneeling beside him as Alexis bent in front.

“She’s gone,” Ned repeated. “My daughter is dead.” The first tears slid over his eyelashes, down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. He felt the cool splash of them on the skin of his neck. “I can’t bring her back.”

“No,” Jax said. “You can’t.”

And somehow, that simple truth was all he needed to hear—Brooke Lynn was dead. And nothing Ned could do—all the power and might of his family, all the money and wealth in the world—

Nothing could change it. Nothing could make it not true.

He drew in a shuddering breath, squeezed his eyes shut and let Alexis finally embrace him, burying his face in her neck, feeling Jax’s arms close around him.

He could never bring her back. He could never turn back time and take away all the wrong he’d done in her life and the pain she’d suffered in the park.

But he could stop it from happening again. He could keep another family from being destroyed, another father or mother from feeling this devastation.

He was going to burn down every single person who had put themselves above the people they’d sworn to protect and make sure no one ever forgot Brooke Lynn’s name.

His daughter was gone.

And someone had to pay.

Condo: Living Room

Elizabeth was curled up on the sofa when Jason came back about an hour after she’d left Lucas at Kelly’s. He looked as exhausted as she felt. He dropped his keys on the table and sat next to her, tugging her into his arms, letting his chin rest on the top of her head.

“You stayed at the hospital for a while,” she murmured, closing her eyes as she let herself sink into the warmth and safety of his embrace. “I wanted to stop by, but I wasn’t sure—”

“I stayed for Monica. She’s always taking care of everyone else,” he told her. “But I figured she’d take it hard. She talked about Brooke a few times while you were in the hospital. Brooke was having a tough time after she moved here, and Monica said she’d tried to reach out to her.”

His fingertips trailed up and down her bare arm. “I talked to Emily. She’s flying in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, she called me. I was with Lucas Jones when she called. He was so upset—apparently he, Dillon, and Georgie had stopped by this morning and—” Elizabeth sighed. “Brooke pushed them away.” She tilted her head back to look at him. “Do they know—do they know if it was an accident?”

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Taggert came to the hospital to talk to Ned and Lois. They said they’d sent a crime scene unit, but there was no note. Just the bottle of pills. Empty. That doesn’t mean anything, but—”

“How are Ned and Lois? That’s a stupid question.” She shook her head. “They’re devastated. They’re probably blaming themselves. I blame myself. If I had been here to get that call—I thought about reaching out to her again—”

She appreciated when Jason didn’t immediately tell her she was wrong, only drew her closer again. She tucked her head into his neck, closing her eyes again. “I just—I remembered that I wanted to be alone and I always pushed everyone away. It took a while for me to even really tell Lucky what happened. I mean, he knew. He, Luke, and Bobbie—they all knew that first night, but I couldn’t say it. I wanted it not to have happened.”

Tears slid down her cheek, burning her skin. “I could pretend because no one else knew. Bobbie never told anyone. Luke and Lucky made me feel safe—Lucky always let me know I wasn’t alone. I was in my room one day—I hadn’t gone to school, and he just sat outside my front door, pounding on it for me to let him in. I didn’t. I couldn’t. But he was there, and I just—it made it okay. For a moment.”

“I’m glad you had that.”

“But Brooke couldn’t pretend. Everyone knew. Everyone looked at her, and I should have known that—” She stopped. Took a deep breath. “But I’m going through my own thing. That’s what Gail would remind me. A year ago, I could have thought about nothing but Brooke. But I’m still grappling with what Ric did to me. And it was easy to push Brooke’s trauma out of my head because mine took up so much space.”

“You did everything you could, everything you were capable of.” Jason’s fingers slid through her hair, letting the strands fall to her shoulders. “I’m sorry for Ned, for Lois. They were the first people after my accident that I could manage to be in the room with for more than five minutes. Them, then Lila. They made me feel normal.” He was quiet for a moment. “Monica asked if we’d come to a service at the house if they have one here. She said she’d understand if we didn’t—”

“I just want to do whatever is easier for Ned—I mean—he knows Brooke called me—”

“He won’t blame you, Elizabeth—” he hesitated. “I’ll have Monica put some feelers out. I get what you’re saying. But he won’t blame you.”

“I just want this all to stop. I want them to catch this guy. He may not have forced Brooke to take those pills, but God, Jason, he killed her. I hope he burns in hell.”