I couldn’t get the last line exactly the way I wanted it, but I’m way over time, lol. Happy Friday! Written in 72 minutes.

Hardy House: Elizabeth’s Bedroom

Elizabeth murmured something, then shifted, trying to roll on her side, then wincing when she bumped her injured shoulder. She clutched her shoulder with her left hand, starting to sit up—and then she felt an arm at her back, a warmth at her side.

“Careful, don’t sit up too fast—” Jason said, sitting on the edge of her bed, bracing her against his chest. She leaned back for just a moment, resting her head against his jaw, closing her eyes.

“Hey.” She set her hand along the one he’d wrapped around her waist, the button down shirt he’d worn to court cool against her fingers. “You’re here. What time is it?”

“I don’t—almost six.” Jason brushed his lips against her temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Still tired.” Elizabeth opened her eyes, shifted to set her feet on the ground, her toes curling into the carpet. She touched his jaw. “Have you eaten or—”

“Not yet. I will.”

She exhaled slowly, then rubbed the side of her face. “You went to the Towers. How—how did that go?” When Jason didn’t say anything right away, Elizabeth frowned, focused on him. “Jason?”

“I didn’t get upstairs to talk to Sonny. I wanted to check the security footage first, and then—” He leaned over, switched on the lamp next to her bed, flooding the room with soft light. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Why did you want the security footage?”

“I wanted to know if it was Sonny. If—” Jason grimaced, looked away. He leaned forward, bracing his elbow on his knee, then dragged his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted information. When, where, how, who—I don’t know if Sonny did this. I can’t see how he could have made it back in time, and the gun the court said they have—it’s not with him. So—”

“So how did Courtney get it to turn in?” Elizabeth finished. “I guess that’s a question for her—” As she spoke, Jason looked at her, and there was something in his eyes, something that sent a chill down her spine. “What happened?”

“She’s dead.”

The words hung in the air, suspended between them, and Elizabeth couldn’t wrap her head around them. Couldn’t make sense of it. “I don’t—what do you mean, dead? What are you talking about?”

Jason sat up, then pushed himself to his feet. He went to the window, pushed aside the sheer curtain and looked out over the front lawn. Then he finally looked at her. “After I made bail, someone went to the hotel and shot her. She’s dead.”

“Oh my—” Elizabeth pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. Oh my God. What is going on?”

“I don’t—” He faltered, shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Elizabeth rose slowly, putting her free hand on the sling to brace herself, then went to him. “Jason.”

“I thought I knew what was happening. What was going on. The idea that Sonny did this—” Jason looked at her, and she saw the anguish now, the uncertainty. “That was hard enough, but I could make that work in my head. He’d never have hurt you or Carly. But—I don’t know what’s going on with the gun. And Courtney—was she just another way to frame me? Why?”

He looked back out over the street, and Elizabeth wrapped her one arm around his chest, rested her forehead against his back, wished with everything she had that she could wrap both arms around him. To give some comfort. Until a week ago, he’d been trying to make things work with Courtney. She’d been his fiancee. And then she’d tried to frame him for attempted murder, working with his enemy to do so—and now she was dead.

“It seems impossible that all of this has happened in the space of a week.” He turned and her hand slid down to rest on his chest. She lifted her gaze to his. “A week ago, I was standing in the alley at Kelly’s, telling you I was pregnant. And for just a moment, just one single moment, everything was perfect. The world and its complications—none of that it existed. It was just you and me, and this amazing secret we shared.” She took his hand, brought it to her abdomen, his fingers curling slightly. “I know it’s all gone to hell since then. Somehow it all got so much worse, but I just—I think if we both just take a breath, and let that moment back in—we can get through this. Whatever this is. Because it hasn’t changed. Our baby—you and me? That’s all still okay. We’re all still here.”

She felt the tension melt from his body and he lifted her chin up, captured her mouth for a brief caress with his lips. Just long enough to bring that memory back, that sense of peace. Then he pulled her against him, and they stood there, letting the world settle around them.

“I’m sorry about Courtney. Whatever her faults, whatever her plans, she didn’t deserve this.” She lightly stroked his back, then stepped away so that their eyes could meet. “What happens next?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Scott and Mac—I told them about Sonny. What we thought had happened. They’re going to confront Ric, I guess. If someone is eliminating witnesses, he’s next. Bobbie’s with Carly, and I sent over some extra guards. I put more people here.” Jason paused. “I have to go back to the Towers. I have a doctor who can see Sonny, but I have to—I have to talk to Sonny.”

“Okay. Then I’m going with you—” Elizabeth said, and when he opened his mouth, she raised one single finger. “I can rest across the hall and wait for you. But I don’t want you to do this alone. Let me be here for you in any way I can. Please.”

“All right,” Jason agreed. He kissed her forehead. “All right. Let’s go.”

General Hospital: Hallway

Scott stopped after rounding the corner, and Capelli bumped into his back. “Oh, that can’t be good,” he said.

“What—” Capelli focused on the hospital room a few steps away, grimaced. There were no officers—and they could see from here with the door partially open, that the room was empty. “Oh, hell.”

The detective spun on his heel and headed for the front desk, Scott just behind him. “Hey. Hey. What happened to the Patient in 1303?” Capelli demanded, smacking his palm against the counter.

A harried nurse came over, rolled her eyes. “Don’t you guys ever talk to each other? He’s been transferred to Mercy just like the order said—”

“What order?” Scott demanded. “He was under guard—”

The nurse hesitated, sensing the tension. “Two cops came. They showed the order to me and the doctor, and then to the cops on duty. They left, and the patient was transported in the police car. We had all the paperwork—”

“Damn it. Damn it.” Scott grimaced. “Where the hell is that son of a bitch?”

General Hospital: Morgue

A few floors down, Mac watched as Mike prepared himself to go inside the main room of the morgue. The older man stood very still at the door, waiting for the pathologist to open the door and indicate they were ready to start.

“An identification isn’t necessary, Mike—”

“It is to me,” Mike interrupted. He looked at Mac. “You need it done. And there’s no one else. No one who loves her the way I do. Except maybe her mother, and I can’t call her to do this. I can’t make her do it. For all the times I wasn’t there, I need to be here now.”

Mac decided not to argue. Sometimes family members needed to see the body to be sure, to make it real, and he wasn’t going to tell anyone how to grieve. He followed Mike into the colder room, standing a respectful distance from the row of drawers.

The pathologist tugged on a handle, and the drawer slid open. The body was covered in a white sheet that the pathologist gently folded down to reveal the pale, still, body of Courtney Matthews. Her eyes were closed, and if not for the bluish tint to her skin and the small, neat hole in her forehead, she might have been sleeping. Even the blood had been rinsed from her hair, and had been laid out to disguise the damage the exit would had done to her.

Mike stood there for a long moment, then raised one trembling hand to Courtney’s forehead, stroked the hair. “My little girl. I threw away so much time with my children. Arrogantly, I thought I could make up for it, but you really can’t turn back the clock, can you?” He raised his eyes to Mac. “You’ll find who did this, won’t you? You won’t let Scott get sidetracked going after Michael or Jason. You’ll—” His voice quavered. “Whatever mistakes she made, whatever she tried to do in those last few days or weeks, she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t—”

“I promise, Mike.” Mac stepped up to the older man, put an arm around his shoulder, gently pulling him away. “I’m going to find out what happened. Whatever I have to do.”

After finishing the identification, Mike went to the restroom, to take a minute, maybe splash some water on his face. While he waited, Mac looked through his phone and saw a missed call from the crime scene tech.

“Stevie? Yeah, I just got the call. What do you have?” Mac paused, listened to the response, took a deep breath. “You’re sure? There’s no mistake? Okay. Okay. Get me that in writing as soon as possible.” As soon as he hung up with the tech, the phone rang again. “Capelli—what?”

When Mike emerged from the restroom, Mac was at the elevators, jabbing at the button. “We have to go,” he said, sharply. “Now.”

“What happened?” Mike demanded, following Mac onto the elevator. “What do you know?”

“The gun doesn’t match. It’s Jason’s, but it wasn’t used in the shooting. The bullets didn’t match.” Mac’s mouth pinched. “And Lansing has disappeared.”

Harborview Towers: Hallway

Jason hesitated after stepping off the elevator. He looked towards the penthouse where Sonny had been kept for the better part of the week, mostly against his will. Then back at Elizabeth who had stepped out after him.

“Let me get you across the hall—”

“Just give me the key—” Elizabeth said, holding out her hand. “And I’ll wait for you. I can unlock a door, Jason.” But her tone was gentle, and he knew she wasn’t irritated with him—knew that Jason was just stalling from what he had to do.

He had to talk to Sonny for the first time since that night, still half-worried that despite the evidence, Sonny had done this. And if he wasn’t, what to do with a mentally ill man whose pregnant wife was lying in a coma? What would that do to Sonny’s fragile psyche?

“If you hear anything, you close the door and lock it. Deadbolt,” Jason said, dropping the key in her palm, closing it and holding it in his own hand. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

“I understand.”

Jason waited for her to go around the corner, to open the door and let herself in. Only when he heard the tumbler click, indicating that she had, at the very least, engaged the basic door lock—only then did he round the opposite corner and head for Sonny’s.

It was time to deal with Sonny, something he should have done weeks ago. Months. And maybe years.

A Bedroom

Ric winced as he twisted in the bed, rolling onto his side, trying to avoid putting pressure on the bullet wound in his back. Of all the times he’d taken a bullet, this had to be one of the worst places, he thought.

He’d woken in this room with no idea where he was until it had bobbed slightly, and he’d heard the sound of water. Only then did Ric realize he was on a boat.

And that was a mildly terrifying piece of knowledge because if he’d been taken from the hospital and put on a boat, that only meant one thing—and one person—

The door opened then, and Lorenzo Alcazar came in, the corner of his mouth curled up in a half smile. “Well, well, the prodigal wakes.”

“What the hell is going on—” Ric started to lift his hand, then scowled, realizing he’d been cuffed to the bed. “What the hell? Why would you take me from the hospital—”

“I was very disappointed in you this past summer,” Lorenzo said, removing a cigar from the inside of his jacket pocket. He lit it, then brought it to his mouth. “I thought you would recognize me.”

Ric leaned back against the pillows, grimacing. “Why? I never knew Luis had a brother, much less a twin—”

“Ah, Ricardo—” The lilt of Lorenzo’s words changed, and the way the Spanish name rolled off his tongue — Ric went very still. “Ricardo, I thought one estafador would recognize the other.”

“I’m not a conman—”

“Nor are you Sonny’s brother, but you did an excellent job preserving your own life with that little tale.” Lorenzo tipped the ash from the cigar onto the ground. “And that told me everything I needed to know. Not even bothering to confirm the existence of a sibling? No demanding DNA? You could have done so much with that information, my dear Ricardo. But perhaps you, like myself, have the same fatal flaw.”

Ric exhaled slowly. “And what’s that?”

“The lure of a woman. For me—” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Brenda. There can be no other. And for you, well, I suppose that’s obvious. Tell me, Ricardo, did you enjoy when Sonny’s sister came to you with her little lie? With her plan to frame Jason Morgan?”

Ric tilted his head back for a long moment, then took a deep breath, then met the other man’s amused eyes. “I will admit, Luis, I couldn’t resist the chance to see Jason behind bars even if it was a silly story that won’t hold long. I’ve always had trouble with my impulses.”

“No, I certainly understand that. Well, I’ve done you a favor, mi amigo, and snipped off a loose end, but I have one very important question.” Luis tilted his head. “How do you plan to tell Sonny that not only did he shoot his pregnant wife, but he also nearly killed his other little sister?”

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