September 30, 2024

Okay, so I can explain.

I’ve been dealing with a bit of block with Chain Reaction which is another reason that updates have slowed down and even when I have posted, we’re not really going anywhere. The story was in my head but when I tried to sketch it out, I just couldn’t quite make it work the way I wanted. So I’ve pushed updates and focused on These Small Hours (Book 2 is officially underway!) hoping it would shake me loose. But that means just not posting until I can get Chain Reaction working again, and pressure never helps. I’m hoping that if I start the next series that I had planned anyway which is wildly different than everything I’ve written for the last few years, it’ll trick my brain into relaxing and I’ll be able to figure out how to get where I want to go. So just a temporary hiatus.

The good news is that the postseason has started. The Phillies don’t play again until Saturday, and then they’re off on Monday, so I can guarantee Monday updates. And if they get out of the NLDS, there are built in off days the rest of the month. So right now, I’m tentatively committing to Monday & Wednesday updates. If I can get Chain Reaction moving, I’ll put in M/W/F updates and do what I did when I was juggling in Warning Shots. One week on, one week off.

I won’t know anything for sure until Wednesday/Thursday when they set the times for the NLDS series (Wild Card comes first!)

October is going to be a little funky, but sadly, the baseball season will be over, and we’ll settle into some routines 🙂

I hope you like this one. It’s been percolating in the back of my head for a while. See you Wednesday!

+11

This entry is part 1 of 10 in the Flash Fiction: Masquerade

Alternate Universe. Forget everything.

Written in 61 minutes.

The port city of Wymoor had once been a bustling center of trade and commerce, its docks teeming with goods and people from every corner of Tyrathenia. It had been the shining jewel in the tiny kingdom of Rhigwyn, the envy of many.

Those days were long past, with little left but the fishermen and smugglers. The pubs, once packed to the brim with travelers and dockworkers, had dwindled until only the Hare and the Hound stood at the end of Berry Lane, and on a blustery winter night, there were few inside the common room.

But Mother Mary Mae Ward could always be found on a stool in the corner, telling her tales to the lost children of the village. She collected them — one left orphaned when the storms washed her fishermen father away at sea, two more who had survived the sweating that had swept through the region the year before, and another who had no family to call their own and never had. He’d simply showed up one day that summer, and everyone knew to send him to Mother Mary Mae.

Tonight, she told the children their favorite story — of another lost child no different than they —

“But that’s not true, Mother Mary,” little Violet piped up, sitting cross-legged in front of the old woman. The girl spoke with a lisp, her smile revealing the gap where she’d lost her two front teeth. Her sunny blond hair was clean and braided back in twin tails that hung down her back. She was the youngest of Mother Mary Mae’s brood, still believing her father would wash up alive on the shore.

Still young enough to believe in dreams.

“Not true?” Mary Mae said with a laugh. “Why do you say that?”

“She’s not a lost child, she’s a lost princess,” James said with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t know much, Mother, but my father weren’t no king. And who knows what my mother was.”

Mary Mae lifted her brows. “Who’s telling this story, Master James? You or I? You asked for the story—”

“Not me—”

“I like this story,” said the little boy with no family at all. He had no surname, and only answered to Danny. “And it’s my turn to pick!”

“So it is, Master Daniel. It was a night just like this, more twenty years ago,” Mary Mae said, lowering her voice to a hush. “The castle had settled down for the night, and all were tucked in their beds. But almost none of them would see the morning.”

Across the room, a man sat at the long oak bar, a pint of ale in his hand. Locks of dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he half-listened to the old woman’s story. She’d been telling it nearly as long he could remember — though he liked it no more now than when he’d been one of Mary Mae’s children, crowded around the stool, hanging on her every word.

The story had changed over the years, details emphasized, pauses added for drama, but the facts were true enough. Twenty-four years earlier, the royal family had been slaughtered in their beds, the only survivor the young boy prince, Steven, who had reigned as a puppet king until his death only a few weeks earlier. He’d been three when he’d lost his family, and had never been worth much. Under the weight of his advisors and the rule of the regent, the kingdom had fallen into ruin. Only the capital city prospered — they cared little for the rest of the land, including Wymoor.

No one had ever been held account for the murder of the king, the queen, the queen mother, or their servants.

And no one had ever learned the fate of the youngest member of the family — the six-month-old little girl who had fallen into tales and myth as the lost princess. And one day she’d return to slay the evil dragons to restore Rhigwyn to its glory and take her place on the throne.

It had been nothing but a foolish story when he’d been seven years old, and now that he had seen more than thirty summers, it seemed even more fanciful. The princess was long dead, and there was no one left to help them.

After the story had finished, Mary Mae ushered her children off to their beds. She made her way over to the bar, touched the man on his shoulder. “It’s rare to see you in here on a night like this. Will you sit a while and tell me what brings you here?”

He hesitated, then lifted his mug, followed her to a nearby table. Old habits died hard, he thought, pulling out a chair, helping her to settle. “I’m not here to see you, Mother Mary.”

“I know.” She’d always seemed so old to him, even as a child, but now he saw more evidence of her age. The thick braids she wore had once been a deep coal black, and were now the color of the slate, lines in the corners of her eyes dug more deeply, crinkling when she smiled. But her smile was as warm as ever, as if it had been only hours since they’d seen each other and not months. “You never are, to my everlasting regret, though you’re welcome anytime. All my children will always have a place here.”

“Even though you fill their heads with nonsense?”

Mary Mae tipped her head to the side. “You still think it nonsense? Why? Because it comes from the mouth of a woman and not Valentin Cassadine?”

He pressed his lips together, looked down. “You’ve never cared for their family, but they’ve stayed when others left—”

“Ah, yes, the generosity of the Cassadine family. My boy, did I fail you so miserably that you’d rather throw your lot in with men like Valentin?”

There was an itch between his shoulders. “It was never you, Mother.”

Mary Mae set her hand over his, the dark skin stark against his weathered golden complexion, reminding him again that for all the years he’d called her mother, it was a term of endearment and not of blood. “Then, tell me, Jason, when did I lose you?”

He opened his mouth, then shook his head. “Tell me what you need here, and I’ll see it done. Food, clothes for the children?”

She sighed, drew her hand back. “We’re fine here, though I thank you.”

“Mother—”

“Ah, I see you’ve found a way to occupy your time since I was delayed.”

The new voice broke the spell, and Jason lifted his head to find Valentin Cassadine looming over them, his long coat over one arm. He wore a smile, though it had none of the warmth or comfort of his foster mother. His eyes were cold, not very different than the gray waters of the ocean beyond their doors.

Jason drew back. “Catching up with an old friend. Thank you for the conversation,” he told Mary Mae. “You’ll tell me if you change your mind.”

“Aye, Jason. I’ll keep you in my thoughts.” She rose, and shifted her expression, her back straight, bearing as regal as the royalty whose tales she waved nightly. “My lord Cassadine, please have my seat. My girl will see bring you an ale if you wish.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Mary Mae swept away, and Jason was relieved, through the air was chillier, emptier without her. Some of the light had dimmed in the room, the shadows lengthening.

Valentin took the chair that Mary Mae had vacated. “Apologies for my tardiness. The roads leave a great deal to be desired.” He sniffed, glancing around. “I’d quite forgotten you grew up here. I ought to have selected another meeting place.”

Jason very much doubted that Valentin would forget a detail like that or that he had not been late by design. Though Mary Mae might like to think Jason was in service to the Cassadine lord, the truth was simpler. Jason no had no loyalty to anyone save himself and the coin that paid for his drink, his food, his shelter, and the occasional woman. Tonight, just like other nights, it was coin given by Valentin. Tomorrow it might be another.

“You said that you had a job for me.”

“Yes. I regret that it has to be at this time of year. Ghastly season, winter.” Valentin flicked impatient eyes to the curly-haired blonde who brought the ale, waited for her to leave before returning his focus to Jason. “I’ll be removing to Tonderah tomorrow, and I have something that I require you to deliver to me there.” He paused. “Well, someone.”

It was no surprise Valentin was heading to Port Tonderah, the capital city. Jason was surprised he had not already gone. One of the few redeeming qualities of the Cassadine family was their staunch opposition to Cesar Faison, the royal advisor who had acted as the king’s regent all these long years, and had engineered the marriage of his daughter to the dead king.

With Steven’s body growing cold in his grave, and no heir in sight, Faison and his cronies were looking to secure his daughter’s hold on the throne, but a fight was brewing, and Jason was sure Valentin saw himself on the other side, perhaps taking the throne himself. Jason didn’t care who took the thankless job as monarch, as long the coin continued to flow.

“Where do you want me to go?” Jason asked.

“The far corner of the kingdom, on the other side of the island entirely,” Valentin said. “It will take you several days to travel there and even longer to Tonderah. There’s a village there…”

—

The village of Shadwell was not known for its warm community. Those who called it home did so because no one asked where you were from or cared where you were going. As long as you minded your business, looked after your land, and committed no crimes, a person could become almost invisible.

And that was just the way Elizabeth liked it. She’d called Shadwell home for nearly eight years now — the quaint little cottage at the end of the land with a small stable for her horse and cow, a garden that saw most of her needs met, and enough room and light to earn her keep as seamstress for the local shop.

It was not the life she’d planned as a child, but she’d learned over the years to embrace the quiet and the safe. She’d hoped to be forgotten by the outside world, and for many years, she believed she had been.

But in the days since news had traveled the long distance from Tonderah that the king had died, she’d felt a chill in the air unrelated to the winter winds. A raising of the hair on her neck, an itch between her shoulders, gooseflesh on her arms. Something was coming, and perhaps she ought not be there when it arrived.

She lingered too long, too hopeful that she was wrong, too reluctant to leave her sanctuary, and when something finally arrived, it came with the sound of hoofbeats coming up the lane.

Elizabeth went to the window of her home, saw the horse at her gate, the man hitching the reins to the post. Her heart began to pound, but then she realized it was not who she’d expected. This man was younger, broader in the chest, his hair longer—

Perhaps a lost traveler? Eager to redirect him and send him on his way, Elizabeth stepped out of the house, onto the path, her welcoming smile dimming when he met her eyes, the cold wintry blue.

“Are you Elizabeth?”

At her sides, her hands fisted, and Elizabeth slowly nodded. “Aye. Have you been sent to fetch me?’

“Yes. Valentin apologizes he can’t escort you personally, but asked me to make sure you reach Port Tonderah safely.”

For a moment, the world was quiet, just the whistling of wind through the nearby branches. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Elizabeth wanted to hope, she wanted to dream —

She had to be sure.

“And once I’m there?” she asked.

The man furrowed his brow, a bit confused. “You’ll be married. You are his betrothed, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I suppose I am.”

+23

September 26, 2024

Update Link: Chain Reaction – Part 37

Yay, finally updating this! It’s an off day for the Phillies — their last one of the regular season. I appreciate you guys working with me as Flash Fiction moves all over the place during the regular season. It’s been so fun getting back into baseball now that I’m in a place in my life to dedicate to it. Just zero time during grad school and student teaching.

Anyway! Let’s talk about October because lots of good news for you guys!

The Phillies clinched the Number 1/2 seed in the NL last night which means they don’t play after Saturday until Saturday, October 5. I’ll have next week free in the evenings, and while I’m working on Hours Book 2, I also want to add some more Flash Fic updates to really start to wind Chain Reaction down. I’m juggling a few options for the next story, and I’ll let you know when I decide. We’re definitely in Act 3 of CR, but I’m working out the ending, so I don’t know how many parts are left.

I’m going to get through this weekend and see how much of Hours Book 2 I finish before deciding how many Flash updates I’ll make. I’ll update the widget by Sunday night, so check the sidebar!

+12

This entry is part 37 of 48 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

Written in 56 minutes. I knew I wouldn’t get to a better stopping point in 4 minutes, and I didn’t wanna go ever.

Rose Lawn: Visitor’s Lounge

Jason shifted in his seat and fought the urge to get up and pace the length of the small room tucked in the corner of the private mental health clinic Sonny had checked himself into a few days earlier.

He sat up straight at the sound of a doorknob twisting, and then Sonny was coming through the doorway.

His coal-black hair was hanging in curls over his forehead, his eyes were rimmed with red, and his expression was creased with fatigue, but there was a lucidity that Jason hadn’t seen in days. Maybe weeks.

Jason exhaled slowly, rose to his feet. “Hey. Uh, how—how are you feeling?”

Sonny smiled faintly, but there was no humor or real warmth in his eyes. Just exhaustion. He came forward, not with his usual swagger but an almost hesitant step. He stopped when he reached the table, put his hand on the back of the chair, but didn’t sit down.

“Like I’ve been run over by a few of our trucks. Thanks. For coming.”

“Yeah. The doctor—I mean they said you asked for me.” Jason sat down, keeping his eyes on Sonny, the pressure on his chest easing when Sonny followed suit, sliding into the chair across from him.

“Yeah. Uh. They…they gave me something. I don’t really know. It’s all—” Sonny squinted. “Everything is moving slowly, you know? Like I’m trying to walk through water. But—” He cleared his throat. “But I can think. The doctor—they said I won’t—it’s going to time before I feel normal. Or anything close to it.”

“Do…do they know what—” Jason didn’t know how to ask the question. Was Sonny still crazy? Was it just a psychotic break or something else? What were they dealing with?

And did Jason really care? Was he obligated to care? Sonny had put Carly and Elizabeth in the hospital, jeopardized the life of two unborn children—and he’d refused until the bitter end to do anything to help himself. What did Jason owe to him? Friendship? Was there any of that left?

“They don’t know if it’s — they got theories, I mean. But there’s tests. And tests. And more. But I’m—I’m staying,” Sonny offered. He looked down at his clasped hands. “To find out. To know for sure. And maybe just…just to rest.” He looked away, out the window that overlooked the lawn and drive leading to the highway. “I don’t remember a lot about those last few weeks. It’s all in flashes. But I don’t like what I can remember. I don’t know how much of it was real. Or what was my mind lying to me.”

Sonny looked back at Jason, and now his dark eyes were damp. “I remember you. Coming to see me. Because Carly—she was scared. She left me. Had to go, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Jason met Sonny’s troubled eyes, keeping his gaze steady. “Do you remember why?”

“I—I hurt her. Shook her.” Sonny pressed his lips together. “A-and there’s—did I hurt Elizabeth?”

“I don’t know, Sonny. What do you remember?” Jason asked. He leaned forward. “Do you remember Elizabeth?”

“I—the courtyard. That’s what you want to know.” Sonny closed his eyes. “Because Carly and Elizabeth were shot. The doctor told me. Someone shot them.”

“Someone?” Jason echoed. “So you don’t—”

“I—there are—” Sonny gestured at his temple. “There are flashes. I-I was there. And there was—” He spread his hands in front of him, palms up. “There’s blood. But I don’t think that’s real. I think maybe I just—I just think I see blood.” He squinted back at Jason. “I went to Kelly’s. Looking for you, for Carly, hell, maybe Elizabeth,” he muttered. “I don’t know. I was just looking. And I saw him, walking towards my wife, and I just—he was going to hurt her.” Sonny closed his eyes. “But that was me. I did that.”

“Yeah.”

“And Elizabeth.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t—I don’t know how that happened. I don’t know what made me—” Sonny dragged a hand down his mouth. “I don’t know why any of it happened. Or why you’d even come to see me. Yeah, I asked, but you came. After I did that.”

Jason clasped his hands loosely in front of him. “Did you aim the gun at Carly’s head and pull the trigger?”

“No!” Sonny’s eyes widened, his nostrils flared. “No!”

“Did you try to hurt Elizabeth because of who she is to me? Because Courtney told you I left her?”

“Christ. Jesus. No. No. I wouldn’t—” Sonny closed his eyes. “But I did that. Not the why. But the fact of it. I hurt them both. I can’t—how do—” He shook his head. “How do I live with that?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t know what it looks like when you leave here,” Jason told him. He hesitated. “How much of what’s been going on do you know?”

“The doctor’s been telling me what I need to know. Or maybe what I can handle. You got arrested for what I did. Fucking Baldwin,” Sonny muttered, sounding for just a moment like his old self. “They said Elizabeth was okay. That’d she be okay. And Carly. She woke up.”

“Yeah. Elizabeth is home,” Jason told him. Waited a beat. “She can’t move her hand, Sonny. And Tony won’t make any promises about getting that back.”

Some of the color leeched from Sonny’s face. “Her—” He looked down at his palm. “Not her—God, not the hand that she—”

“Yeah. I’m not telling you that to make you feel worse,” Jason said, and Sonny looked back at him. “I’m telling you because you need to stay here. You need to stay until the doctors say you’re okay. I can’t—I can’t help you anymore. I should have done this a long time ago, Sonny, but I didn’t. I’m sorry for that. For letting this happen. But I can’t do it again. Carly and Michael, they can’t go through it again.”

“The baby?” Sonny asked, almost on a rasp.

“He’s okay. They didn’t have to deliver. Carly will be able to carry to term.” Jason paused again. “And Elizabeth didn’t miscarry, though the risk is still there.”

“Elizabeth—” Sonny closed his eyes. “She’s pregnant.”

“Yes. Six—seven,” Jason corrected, almost softly. “Seven weeks. We just found out.”

“We.” Sonny rubbed his mouth, absorbed that, then nodded. “That’s—that’s good. That she’s okay. That you’re—that you’ve got that. I know there’s—I know there’s all the rest of it. But you—you deserve this. A good life. A good woman. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Jason pushed away from the table. “And I’ll come back to see you. But you have to promise me, Sonny, you’re staying here until someone who knows what they’re talking about say it’s okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”

General Hospital: Carly’s Room

“I won’t take much of your time,” Mac said, taking a seat at Carly’s side. “Bobbie says you’re still getting tired easily.”

“Getting…shot…in the…head will do that,” Carly said. She leaned back against the pillow, its case nearly the same shade as her skin. “Can’t…tell you much. Don’t remember.”

“Mac won’t press for details. Not yet,” Bobbie said, flashing Mac a warning glare. “And you don’t need them.”

“No. No, I just need you to tell me what you can. My first priority is you,” Mac said. “You were in the courtyard that night. Did Ric show up before or after you?”

“After. I was…leaving.”

Mac scribbled something. “You came to talk to Elizabeth before closing?”

“Yes. Courtney—she—with Ric. Do…you…did you…talk…to her?”

“Ah, yes. Was she there?”

Carly’s forehead crinkled, her eyes squinting. “N-No. No. Just—just me. Elizabeth…Ric. We…wanted…him…to go. He…wouldn’t.”

Bobbie muttered something, folded her arms. Carly frowned, but kept going. “It’s….it…gets foggy. I don’t…know. There…was yelling…and I think…maybe…I heard Sonny. Was—Mama…Sonny, he was there? Where…is…he?”

“He’s getting help,” Bobbie told her, coming to the bed and taking her hand. “Jason got him into Rose Lawn. But you remember him that night?”

“Did….was he there? I hear…his voice. Screaming…and then…nothing.” Carly closed her eyes. “All…swirling…together. Ric. Sonny. Lorenzo.”

Mac’s eyes sharpened. “Alcazar?”

“Must…have thought…Venezuela…mixed up.” And then she’d drifted into sleep, her breathing slowing to an even pace.

Mac grimaced, and got to his feet. Bobbie followed him into the hallway, snagging his elbow. “Bobbie—”

“Her story matches Elizabeth’s—”

“Except for Sonny and Alcazar. Elizabeth doesn’t remember them, and she wasn’t hurt as badly,” Mac reminded her. “Carly might be confusing things with Venezuela. I know Sonny confessed to Jason, so that makes sense. We have no reason to believe Lorenzo was there that night—”

“Except Ric is gone and Courtney’s dead. And now there’s a chance Alcazar was at Kelly’s—”‘

“Bobbie—”

“No! No! I don’t want to hear you dismissing my daughter because of what happened. She remembers—” Bobbie stabbed a finger at Mac, poking him in the chest. “You ignored her kidnapping—”

“It was never reported to us, and no one would have cooperated even if we’d—”

“Stop that. Stop!” Bobbie’s eyes shimmered and Mac closed his mouth. “You had that report from Elizabeth. You knew what she saw. What she begged you to know. You had Michael’s statement. You knew what that scum did to my baby, and you didn’t deal with it. And now—”

“Don’t blame this on me—” Mac gestured back to Carly’s room. “I didn’t tell your daughter to stay with a mentally unstable lunatic or walk around without guards when she’d already been kidnapped—”

“How dare—”

“No, how about you give me a goddamn break, Bobbie,” Mac retorted and she scowled. “I had witnesses putting Jason as the shooter, and I held Baldwin off as long as I could before making that arrest. I kept investigating, okay? But your daughter just came out of a coma, and even she’s not sure what she saw that night. I don’t doubt Lorenzo Alcazar is mixed up in all of this, but so far I don’t have a lot to work with!”

“You—”

“Lorenzo Alcazar drops off the face of the planet almost a year ago. Just up and leaves his university post in the middle of the term, and goes no contact to everyone, including Luis’s sixteen-year-old daughter, who by the way, is still off at some ritzy boarding school. Then this guy shows up here in Port Charles, does nothing to show his hand until he snatches Carly out of the panic room before we can get to her? He does all of that, drags her back to Venezuela, then just lets her go? None of this adds up to anything I can charge—”

“Wait—wait—” Bobbie held up her hands. “What do you mean Lorenzo Alcazar dropped off the face of the planet? What does that mean?”

“Last November. Just before his brother took a flying—” Mac stopped, stared at her. “Before his brother took a flying leap off the balcony.”

“Lorenzo Alcazar, who everyone keeps telling me, was a mild-mannered university professor until three months ago? He left his life, and now he’s back, in his brother’s business? Holding Carly hostage on his brother’s property?”

“You have to be—” Mac whipped out his phone. “Please. Please don’t tell me that Lorenzo Alcazar is the one who went over the balcony—yeah, Scott? We might have a problem.”

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Elizabeth hesitated at the edge of the courtyard. None of the tables had been set up — they could probably still get another few weeks before the weather really turned, but it had already been closed down for the winter.

Even with the pale sunlight shining down, it didn’t take Elizabeth much to bring her back to that night. To the pain, the screaming, the confusing—

She closed her eyes, tried to finish the scene. Standing with Carly, arguing about who should stand behind who. Wishing Jason would hurry up and arrive, and then—screaming. Loud bangs. Pain exploding—

But the screaming? What was that? Who was that—

She jolted when fingers brushed her shoulder and her eyes flew open. She stumbled, turned, breathing a sigh of a relief until she saw who was standing there.

Mike.

+24

September 21, 2024

Update Link: These Small Hours, Book 1: Undone

Hey! Sorry about not updating Flash Fiction basically since going back to work. September’s been pretty rough, and I really thought I’d be able to get to it on Friday, but I seriously overestimated my energy levels.

Anyway, I dropped a whole book this week so hopefully you guys were all busy reading that and didn’t even notice Flash being gone. I’ll be diving into Book 2 starting Monday and I’ll see you guys on Thursday, the next Phillies’ off day for a Flash Fic update.

+11

September 17, 2024

Update Link: These Small Hours, Book 1

Chapters | Timeline & Setting

Chapter 4-32 are now live which means These Small Hours, Book 1: Undone is officially out in the world! Don’t forget to leave me a thumbs up as you read each chapter to let me know you were there. It’s an easy, no pressure way to leave quick feedback.

Book 2 will be out in December! Be sure to let me know what you think and what you hope happens next!

I’ll see you later this week for some Flash Fiction.

+15

This entry is part 32 of 32 in the These Small Hours: Book 1

This love is good
This love is bad
This love is alive back from the dead
These hands had to let it go free, and
This love came back to me
This love left a permanent mark
This love is glowing in the dark
These hands had to let it go free, and
This love came back to me
– This Love, Taylor Swift

Friday, October 3, 2008

Nadine’s Apartment: Living Room

Nadine dropped her keys on the counter as Johnny followed her in, closed the door behind her. “Well, that was, uh, an eventful day.” She stripped off her jacket and tossed it aside, finally turning to face him.

“Yeah. Never a dull moment.” Johnny cleared his throat. “I’m sorry—that you got dragged into this.”

“I dragged myself into it.” Nadine perched on the arm of her sofa. “At least that part is over. They don’t have any real evidence against you.”

“Not yet.” Johnny rested his hands on the back of the sofa, leaned forward. “But they didn’t have anything against me with Logan, and that didn’t seem to stop them—”

“That’s true.” She examined her thumb nail. “Um, so, maybe we need to talk about things. Now that you’re, uh, here in Port Charles. That we’re both here. And that people know.”

“Yeah, good news travels fast.” Johnny made a face. “You have some run-ins with well-wishers, too?”

“Just Leyla, a friend from work. Well, not much of a friend now, I guess. I guess—I mean, I knew people would look at me like this, I guess I just didn’t really understand how it would feel. People who know Lulu looking at me like I’m this terrible person,” Nadine said, shaking her head, looking towards the window. “And I can’t even pretend that I’ve got some moral high ground, that I married you because of that day on the pier. I mean, I did, but—”

“But it didn’t stop there.”

“No. It didn’t.” Nadine sighed. “From your question, I guess you didn’t get anyone congratulating you either, huh?”

“Maxie was angry.” Johnny paused. “Lu, you know, she’d understand the wedding part. She’d be irritated by it,” he added, “but her old man was in the business, and she grew up around Sonny. She’d deal with it. It’s just…”

“What came after is harder, I guess. How else do you explain jumping into bed less than a week after her breakdown?” Nadine bit at her thumb.

“If it weren’t for the whole marriage part of it,” Johnny said slowly, “I bet I could spin that, too. Lonely. Tired. Wanting to feel something.” He met her eyes, straightened. “She’d understand, too.”

“Very understanding girlfriend—” Nadine stopped. “I don’t want to be like this. To feel jealous about what Lulu might or might not understand. Especially when all of this is happening because she’s not here. Because she’s not well. And I hate myself for not thinking that part of it through. For just leaning into impulse. I should know better by now.”

“Yeah, acting on impulse hasn’t gotten me much success, either,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. You were right in Vegas. It was a mistake. We should have stopped it then.”

“Definitely.” Nadine stood up. “But look, it was just a few times, right? We’ll stop now. It was a crazy few days, but it’s over now. Things are settled down. The PCPD took their swing, and they struck out. Ric will tell your family that I took your side, and that you’re in the clear, so you’re okay there.”

“Guess it’s a good thing Scott saw me and got annoyed. You’re right. Things will go back to normal—I’ll, uh, move out here—” He gestured at the sofa. “And we’ll just be roommates.”

“Right.” Nadine smiled. “I’m glad we got that sorted out. I feel better.”

“Me, too. It’s smarter this way,” he added. “Keeps everything cleaner. It’s all complicated enough, no point in making it worse.”

“Right,” she repeated, wondering why they were going in circles on this. “This is a good idea. I’m glad you said it first, but I was going to.”

“You were?” Johnny looked at her, and she swallowed hard, because he was looking at her.

“You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

She huffed, walked away a few steps, then whirled around, jabbing a finger at him. “You know what you were doing, so don’t do it again—”

“I absolutely don’t know what I was doing except agreeing with you.” He smirked. “You don’t want me to agree with you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. So we’re not having this conversation anymore.”

“Okay.”

Nadine fidgeted, folded her arms. “Okay.”

“You said that already.” Johnny’s mouth twitched. “Do you always repeat yourself?”

“Do you always—” She pressed her lips together. “Never mind. We need to get along for however long this lasts, so let’s just—I’ll go find the takeout menus.”

“Nadine.”

She stopped, her hand on the drawer, turned to find him still standing by the drawer. “What?”

“I don’t know.” He cleared his throat. “I guess I just wanted to say your name. Because when this conversation is over, it’s over. And we’re not going to have it again. So maybe I just want to keep it going.”

Nadine frowned, her hand falling away from the drawer, stepping towards him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want the conversation to keep—” She stopped. “Johnny. We’re going to be smart about this, remember?”

“I do. It was my idea.”

“Okay, so it’s…done. Decided.” She licked her lips, and his eyes dropped. “Don’t do that—”

“Don’t do what?”

“You—we’re going in circles again, and you know what—I’m going to stop it. I’m going out.” Nadine snatched up her keys. “Because if we’re in the same apartment, we’re going to be stupid, and we decided we were done with that.”

“Yeah, I know but—” Johnny snagged her arm as she passed. “I’m trying to remember why again.” He drew her against him.

“Johnny—” Nadine bit her lip. “This is a really stupid idea.” She pressed her hands against his shoulders, intending to push him away, but instead her fingers curled into his shirt. “Never mind, we’ll be smart tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank God—” He yanked her against him and took her mouth.

Morgan Penthouse: Master Bedroom

Elizabeth was tired of not being able to move without pain, of being stuck in one place, and having to think before she even took a breath. She wanted to be the one who put her boys to bed, listening to Jake babble through his bedroom routine, or Cameron retell his day at preschool for the fifth time.

But she’d done too much again today, and had been ordered by her grandmother to rest — they’d compromised by letting her sit in an oversized armchair in the bedroom, while Audrey had brought each boy in for a few minutes to cuddle with her, only to be whisked away to their room.

Jason had gone out after dinner for a meeting, but she also wondered if he was avoiding her. Since their brief interaction in the kitchen earlier that afternoon, they hadn’t been alone for more than a few minutes—and she wondered if there was even a point in attempting another discussion tonight —

Jason wasn’t ready to talk about Sonny, or maybe he’d said all there was to say. They’d connected a little the night he’d brought her home from the hospital, but she’d caught him at the end of the day when he was probably exhausted from everything that had happened, from her medical emergency to Sonny’s shooting—

She shouldn’t have to wait until he was at the end of his rope before he talked to her, and it had always been this way.

The penthouse fell silent as one by one, its residents went to their rooms and went to sleep. Elizabeth remained in the chair, determined to wait up for Jason, to try just one more time today—

But even she couldn’t quite manage to keep her eyes open. Her head listed to the side, her eyes growing heavy—she fell into a light doze, jerked awake when she felt hands trying to lift her.

“I’m awake—I’m—” Elizabeth opened her eyes—the lights had been switched off, the lamp on the night table the only source of illumination. She caught Jason’s face in the shadows, and her hands, which had curled into fists, unfurled against his shoulders. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.” Jason knelt by the chair. “You should have gone to bed. It’s late.”

“I—” She stifled a yawn. “I wanted to wait for you.”

Jason sighed, dipped his head. “Why?”

“Why—” Elizabeth stared at him, a bit incredulously. “Why wouldn’t I? We’ve barely had a quiet moment together since all of this happened—oof—” Her words were cut off when Jason lifted her in his arms. “Hey. I was talking—”

“You can talk from the bed,” he said, almost in a grunt. He laid her gently against the pillows, sat at the foot of the bed to tug off her socks. “What do you want to wear to sleep—”

“Stop!” At her abrupt words, Jason let her foot drop, then looked at her. “Stop ignoring me and stop changing the subject and stop making it all about my health! I am fine! Just stop.”

She hadn’t meant to do that, hadn’t meant to blow up, and shame crawled up her spine when she saw Jason just standing there at the end of the bed, his arms at his side, looking at her with bewilderment. “I’m sorry. I just—it’s like you’re not listening to me, and you’re treating me like a child. Like I don’t know how to take care of myself. That I can’t figure out how much sleep or rest I need.”

Jason opened his mouth, then shook his head. “You’re pushing too hard—”

“You mean, I’m pushing you too hard,” Elizabeth bit out and he closed his mouth. “I didn’t even say a word about Sonny—and there you go. You just shut down again.”

“I didn’t do anything—”

“Your entire body just went into that stone routine that I hate and I don’t know how to make it stop.” Her eyes filled and she looked away. “All I did was wait up to see you, and you’re making me feel stupid for even bothering. What am I even doing here? What’s the point?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “If you want to go back to your place—”

Now the tears spilled down her cheeks. “It’s that easy, isn’t it? It’s so easy for you. I don’t understand that. I don’t understand how you’ve always been able to do that, since the day we met. It gets too hard, and you just walk away, and I have to run after you to get anywhere—”

Something close to anger flashed in his eyes, and she saw his hand tighten in a fist at his side. “You think any of this is easy?”

“We’re having a fight, and you’re ready to ship me back to my house instead of just listening—”

“You said you didn’t know why you were here—I thought you wanted to—”

“Well, don’t think, okay? Because if I want to leave, I’ll tell you.” Elizabeth shifted, then winced, biting down on her lip. “I just—I waited to see you. That’s all. And you weren’t even…” She looked away. “It’s like I’m existing here. A piece of furniture you have to move around and deal with. I’m sorry, should I strip naked so you’ll pay attention to me?” she demanded. Jason’s eyes widened, and she pressed a fist against her mouth, wishing she could claw the words back.

But she couldn’t, and they just hung between them for a long terrible beat of silence. She could almost hear the sound of her heart pounding.

“I didn’t mean that the way it came out,” Elizabeth said finally.

“But you said it, so you must think it.” Jason’s tone was almost dull, lifeless, and she knew he’d crawled inside himself again. He’d already started to shut down, and she’d slammed the door.

“I don’t.” Elizabeth grimaced. “Not entirely.”

“Not entirely,” he echoed. Jason nodded, dragged a hand down his face. “Okay. Okay. I’m just—I’m going to go.”

“Wait—” But he was already at the door and in the hallway before the word had formed on her lips, and she was alone.

General Hospital: Kate’s Room

It was nearly midnight, and while the hospital never quite went quiet, there were fewer shoes squeaking along the hallway floors and the lights were dimmed. Kate lay awake, unable to sleep, her mind cluttered with regrets, grief, and bewilderment.

A week ago, she had been fitted for her wedding dress. She’d sent out the invitations. She’d been blissfully planning her future as Sonny’s wife, a dream from her childhood that she’d tucked away in a box. It had gathered dust all these years until they’d met each other again, and she’d thought she’d finally get to live out her girlish fantasy.

And now it was all over.

She heard the scuff of a different set of shoes, and turned her head on the pillow, watching as Jax appeared in the doorway of her hospital room.

“Visiting hours are over,” she said, her voice hoarse, scarcely above a whisper.

“I have some friends in the right places,” he said. He came in, closed the door, and came forward stopping to pick up the water pitcher. He filled the plastic glass on her tray, then held it out.

Kate reluctantly accepted it, sipped. “I don’t want you here.”

“I know. I heard you earlier. And yesterday.” He rocked back on his heels, took a deep breath. “I went home—well, I went to my room at the hotel. I don’t really have a home right now.”

“You don’t expect me to feel sorry for you, do you? Your wife is available. You could go home tonight.”

“She doesn’t want to see me at the moment, either.” Jax took a long, unsteady breath. “I told myself that I was protecting you, that I was keeping you safe. I’d seen Sonny’s life do nothing but hurt people, year after year, and I was finally in a position to stop it.” He looked up, met Kate’s gaze. “But it was vindictive. It was spite. I wanted to see him miserable, and I had the power to see it done. It gave me pleasure, Kate, to keep him from you.”

Her mouth trembled, and she closed her eyes. “You did it to hurt him.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t care what I’d want.”

“I—” Jax rubbed his chest. “I arrogantly assumed you’d wake up, realize you’d been a victim of Sonny’s life one too many times, and that you’d walk away. That’d you be glad—”

“Well, I’m not. God, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? You just so desperately need to believe that any woman who might love Sonny is just some silly twit who doesn’t know her own mind and can’t make choices. Can’t stand by them. Is that who Carly is?”

“No, no, it’s not.” Jax sighed. “He came here that day, Kate. Just before the shooting. Maybe an hour. He tried to see you.”

Kate’s eyes filled, her lips parted. “W-What?”

“He tried to see you, but you didn’t know yet we’d limited the visitors. So…the desk didn’t let him up. And then…”

“Then he went somewhere and got shot. That wouldn’t—he’d have been here. With me. It wouldn’t have happened.”

“I don’t—Carly told me that my actions—that it put Sonny on that pier—” Jax pressed his lips together, his voice faltered for a moment. “That what I did, what Olivia did—that we put Sonny on that pier, the way Carly’s choices put Michael in the warehouse. And I don’t give a damn about Sonny,” he bit out. “But you—I do care about you. And Morgan—” He looked away, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I love that little boy, and he’s lost his brother. His father. Carly doesn’t even know that Sonny was here that day. Doesn’t know that we could have—”

“So, what, you’re here to apologize? Beg for forgiveness?”

“No.” His smile was quick, humorless. “For years, I’ve believed myself to be the better man. But when the time came to show it, I failed. As a husband, as a father, and as a friend. I wasn’t thinking of the people who loved Sonny. Who needed him. I knew he was upset, I knew he wasn’t handling any of this well, and I enjoyed telling him no. I learned something about myself with all of this, Kate, something I’m not proud of. I don’t like who I turned out to be.”

“That makes two of us. You can go now.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Jason made it down the stairs and to the front door before he stopped. He flattened both hands against the door, leaned his head against it. He could leave. He could climb on the bike, ignore all the speed limits, and just let it all disappear in the roar of the engine and wind—

But Elizabeth would still be upstairs, still waiting for him to stop running. Waiting for him to look at her, to listen to her. He’d brought her here, plopped down in the center of his world, and he’d hoped it would be enough, but wasn’t. It would never be enough.

She’d tried over and over again to talk to him, to get him to open up, to look at her, and he’d shut her down at every turn. He wasn’t surprised she’d grown frustrated and lashed out, striking at him with harsh words. She hadn’t meant them, and he knew that—

But maybe there was a piece of her that wondered, that worried, that after this last year when most of their meetings had been at the safe house or a hotel room, and sex was all they’d really had time for—

Maybe she believed that there was nothing else she could give him. The fear that she still didn’t know, after all this time, how much he loved her, how much just looking at her helped to keep him grounded, gave him the strength to keep moving—

It was enough to make him stop running. He didn’t know what to say to her, but it wasn’t fair to keep avoiding it.

Jason stepped back, then went to the stairs. When he opened the door to the bedroom, he found Elizabeth by the dresser, one hand bracing against the wall, the other digging in a drawer. They stared at each other for a long moment, then he came fully into the room, closed the door.

“Can I help you find something?” he asked.

“I have it,” Elizabeth said, retrieving something blue from the drawer. “But, um, I can’t—I can’t get it on by myself. Could…could you help?”

“Yeah.” Jason wound her arm around his neck and helped her to sit on the bed. He helped her change from the T-shirt and leggings into a long, blue nightshirt. “I’m sorry,” he said, still kneeling in front of her, staring at a blue swirl on her shirt. He rested a hand on her bare knee, preparing to stand—

Instead, she stroked the top of his head, combing her fingers lightly through his hair. “I’m sorry, too. You know I didn’t mean what I said. Not—not the way it sounded. I just—I was so upset, and, well, it’s easier, sometimes, to pick a fight than it is to say I’m worried. You don’t like it when I worry about you.”

He liked it too much, he thought, closing his eyes, focusing on her touch. He leaned his cheek against her thigh, wishing he could just stay this way. Stay in this room. That everything outside of it would just…stop.

“I know you want me to tell you what I’m feeling, but I can’t.”

“I know.”

“You don’t.” Jason slowly lifted himself up, sat next to her, stared down at the carpet, at her toes curling into it. “Because I’m not feeling anything.”

“Jason.”

“I got the call that Sonny was shot and that it was bad, and I just—” He shook his head. “There’s nothing. I don’t feel anything.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Help me to sit back?”

“Yeah, okay.” He settled her back against the pillows, and went to change into a pair of sweatpants, thinking maybe he’d said enough for now, and she would let it go. He crawled into bed next to her.

“Come here.” Elizabeth held out her hand, and he frowned at her. “Come here.”

Jason slid towards her, and she put her arm around him, guiding him so that his head lay against her chest—the way he’d seen her hold Jake the other night. She stroked his hair, then his shoulders, her fingers dancing near his spine, and oddly, it felt right. Comforting.

“You’ve lost so many people, Jason.”

He tensed, but she kept stroking him. “I’m fine—” But there was a lick of something in the back of his throat. An itch. He swallowed, trying to get rid of it, but it was still there.

“I know you regret not having more time with Alan. And all the stress with Jake—that’s on me, I know. The trial. All of that couldn’t have helped. Then…Emily.”

He closed his eyes, but the tears were hot against the lids. His sister. His vibrant, precious little sister. “You lost her, too.”

“I know. But I didn’t lose my father, my sister, my son, and my brother in less than two years. You’ve been dealing with so much, and we kept asking for more. Me. Carly. Sonny. The world. It’s no wonder you can’t feel anything.”

“You can ask me for anything—”

“I know that. I’ve always known that. But I wish you knew you could ask me, too.”

Jason sighed, leaned up on one elbow, to find her looking at him somberly. “I—”

“I know that’s not always been true. I know it’s been hard to trust me—”

He wanted to argue with her, to say he’d always understood, but he couldn’t. She was right. He hadn’t always been able to turn to her. Hadn’t always been able to rely on her to stand by him.

“Since I woke up after the accident, and I realized you’d decided to change everything while I was unconscious, I’ve been bracing myself for you to take it back. To change your mind again, like you did in April. I don’t think I realized until tonight you’ve been doing the same. Not until you talked about me going back to the house, and I saw that you’d already accepted it.”

“I—” Jason cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“I know.” Elizabeth stroked the side of his face, and he leaned into her touch, kissing her fingers when they brushed his lips. “You’ve been waiting for Lucky to come back from California, change his mind, and me to let him. Because that’s what I always do. But I’m not going to do that this time. The boys, me, we’re yours, and we’re not going anywhere. When you know that I’m here, that I’m not going anywhere, you’ll be able to trust me the way you used to. I love you, and I’ll wait as long as it takes until you believe that.”

He closed his eyes and laid back down because she wasn’t going to push. Wasn’t going to ask questions. She understood, and he let that settle. Let himself settle. He could drift asleep just like this, with her fingertips dancing across his skin.

But then he spoke. He didn’t even know where it came from or that he was going to say the words, until they were already in the world.

“He’s not going to wake up.”

She said nothing, just continued running her fingers along his back. He continued. “The doctors are talking around it, not saying it’s permanent. They can’t say that yet, but they’re thinking it. They did another surgery, but it didn’t change anything. It’s…Michael. All over again. Michael won’t ever wake up. He’ll get older, but he’ll never grow up.” Pressure built behind his eyes.

“I’m so sorry.”

The tears spilling down his cheeks now, but he still had words to say. “The last thing I told him was to handle it himself. I didn’t have time for him. Robin had called me, and you were in trouble, and I stopped thinking about him. He tried to handle it himself, and it didn’t work. Now he won’t wake up.” He closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. “I won’t get that moment back. He’s gone. Just like Michael.”

He said nothing else after that, and they laid there until sleep claimed them.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author’s Note

This may seem like an abrupt ending for a book, but, well, I never intended These Small Hours to be split into two, much less three, books. (That should be in my obituary, honestly: She never meant to write a series.) I planned it as a tightly focused story on Jason & Elizabeth with Johnny & Nadine providing a secondary romance.

But then I started to write.

I wrote about Carly’s spiral after Sonny’s loss, I wrote about Patrick’s struggle to live up to his job while preparing for fatherhood, and I found myself writing about Jax finding that victory over Sonny was a bitter one—I love these dumb characters. Even when they make my life difficult. I even love the ones I hate, finding myself expanding on Lucky & Sam in rewrites, and even more Maxie. I just love ensemble stories and the way one event can ripple out and change the world if you let it.

Anyway, that’s a really poetic way of saying that during my rewrites, I realized that this story was just too long to finish in one release. It expanded to seventy-two chapters – we’d be here until sometime this spring with me trying to slog through the draft with how long each step of the process takes me.

Breaking it into pieces gets you the story faster, and it keeps me fresher.

Book 1 (Undone) breaks the world into pieces. Book 2 begins the painful process of stitching it back together. Book 3 reveals the world changed.

I left Book 1 here because this is a chance for our characters to take a breath. Patrick sees some light at the end of the tunnel. Kate, Jax, Carly – they’re all at a crossroads. And Johnny and Nadine are just beginning to learn that they’re stronger together, even if they don’t understand why. Jason is finally facing the magnitude of what’s happened to him. Elizabeth found the words she worried would never come, and with it – a new sense of strength and confidence in what comes next.

As for what that is – you’ll just have to wait and see.

These Small Hours, Book 2: Shadows coming December 17, 2024

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This entry is part 31 of 32 in the These Small Hours: Book 1

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?
I’m getting old, and I need something to rely on
So, tell me when you’re gonna let me in
I’m getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin
And if you have a minute, why don’t we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So, why don’t we go somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know
– Somewhere Only We Know, Keane

Friday, October 3, 2008

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Cameron’s eyes lit up when he saw his mother on the sofa that afternoon. “Mommy! You’re still downstairs!” He released Jason’s hand and raced towards her.

“Whoa—” Elizabeth smiled, held up her hands, and Cameron halted just by the sofa. “I can give hugs, but you still have to be gentle.”

“Cause of your owie,” Cameron said. He dropped his book bag on the ground, wiggled out of his coat, then came over to perch on the edge of the sofa next to his mother. He wrapped his tiny arms around her neck, and she hugged him, kissed his temple. Behind him, Jason picked up the belongings Cameron had discarded. He set the bag on the desk, then hung up the coat in the closet.

“Where’s Jake?” he asked, unzipping the bag to remove Cameron’s daily green folder. “Is he down for his nap?”

“Yeah, Gram put him down before she went out to lunch with Bobbie.” Elizabeth accepted the folder. “Thanks for grabbing him. The school pick up line is the worst, so I know it probably took forever.”

“It was fine.” Jason folded his arms. “You okay? Do you need anything?”

“No.” Elizabeth bit her lip. Something felt strange. Off, she thought. They were exchanging information politely. Distantly. Almost like Jason wasn’t really there. She winced, tried to sit up a little more. “Um, Gram said she’d be back for dinner, so if there’s somewhere you need to be—”

“No. Not right now.”

“Oh.” So that wasn’t it. Elizabeth opened Cameron’s folder to see the report from his teacher. “Hey, you got a smiley sticker today! That’s so great! Mrs. Wallace says you took a really good nap.”

“Yeah. I don’t like when they wake me up,” Cameron grumbled. “But then we had snacks and Morgan shared his apples.” He furrowed his brow. “Mommy, what’s a coma?”

Elizabeth’s hands stilled as she stared at her son. “What?”

“One of the helpers, she told Morgan she was sorry his daddy was in a coma, and Morgan didn’t know what that meant, but then she said maybe he was with Michael, and that’s Morgan’s brother who got hurt.”

Behind Cameron, Jason grimaced and dug out his phone.

“What did Morgan say?” Elizabeth asked, thinking about that poor little boy who’d already lost a brother, and didn’t even know yet about his father—

“He said thank you very much, but I don’t talk about my daddy. That’s what his daddy told him to say because people always ask him.” Cameron made a face. “No one asks me nothing about my daddy. They sposed to?”

“No. No, they’re absolutely not.” Elizabeth winced and pulled herself up again. Jason pointed at the phone to indicate he’d connected with Carly, and then went towards the kitchen. “And I’m glad Morgan didn’t say anything.” She kissed his cheek. “You want to go play?”

“Yeah.” Cameron headed over for the play area in the corner, and Elizabeth pulled herself to her feet, grimacing but determined. She paused for a moment, her hand braced against the back of the sofa to catch her breath before resuming her task.

She made it to the kitchen by the time Jason was sliding the phone into his pocket. His eyes widened when he saw her in the doorway. He came forward, put an arm around her waist, guided her to sit at the table. She leaned back, keeping pressure off her middle.

“I would have come to you—”

“It’s—” Elizabeth steadied herself. “It’s okay. I don’t have a lot of pain thanks to the medication, but I need to get around or it will just be harder to get the stamina back later. I wanted to talk to you where Cam couldn’t hear. Is Carly okay?”

Jason sighed, sat across from her. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “She didn’t tell Morgan yet. Mostly because she doesn’t know how to tell him. He doesn’t even really understand about Michael.” He looked away, towards the wall. “Why the hell is a teacher doing that? Saying that to him? Don’t they know better?”

“They’re supposed to, but people are human. It’s terrible that Morgan has to memorize a response for something like that.”

“Learned the hard way with Michael,” Jason admitted. He sighed. “Carly said she’d talk to him tonight. Is Cam okay?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t know what those words mean, which is a blessing, I suppose, since that means Morgan didn’t either.” Elizabeth hesitated. “Is…I mean, is that situation changed? He was supposed to have another surgery wasn’t he—”

“No, nothing’s changed.” Jason rose from the table, went to the fridge. “Should I get Jake’s snack ready now—”

“Jason.”

Something in her tone must have broken through, because he stopped, but didn’t look at her. His hand rested on the handle of the fridge, but he didn’t try to open it.

“I know this is how you handle things. You look straight ahead and focus on what needs to be done. I know that. But—” She bit her lip. “You can’t sit in one spot longer than a few minutes. And you can’t look at me.” Her fingers curled in her lap. “I know it’s been a lot, and I was unconscious for most of it—”

“It’s fine. I’ve got everything under control,” Jason said, but he still didn’t turn around or look at her.

“I never doubted that. You’ve always been calm in a crisis, and it helps everyone around you to steady themselves.” Elizabeth hesitated. “But then it’s over, and you move on to the next thing, and that’s all you’ve been doing for more than a year—”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do.” Jason now looked at her for just a moment, then dropped his eyes to the table. “Move forward.”

“Can you at least look at me long enough to tell me you’re really fine?” Elizabeth challenged.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jason said, and now he did look at her, his jaw clenched, and she took an uneasy breath.

“I just—Sonny’s so important to you. Can we talk about it?”

“Sonny’s in a coma. He’s not going to wake up. I can’t do anything about that. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, then sighed. This wasn’t the moment either, not with Cameron in the next room and Jake nearing the end of his nap. “Nothing. Nothing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue. I’m just frustrated I can’t do more to help. I can’t go to the hospital, I can’t do anything with my boys. I can’t even do anything for Carly to help her with Morgan the way she helped us.”

Jason’s expression eased and he pulled out another chair, sat down. “There’s nothing you could do at the hospital that isn’t already being done,” he said, and she made a face. “Or help Carly tell Morgan about his father. And if you want to help me—”

“Oh, don’t say it—”

“You can let me take you back into the living room or upstairs to lay down until dinner. The boys and I—and your grandmother—we all need you to get better.”

“Fine. Fine. I give up.” She threw up her hand in mock surrender. “I’ll go back to the couch.” She flattened her hand against the table, pushed herself to her feet, but before she could even take a step, Jason had scooped her against his chest. “I can—”

“I know. But I—” His throat worked, and their eyes met for just a moment before he looked away. “But I want to.”

Maybe it really did help him, Elizabeth thought, as Jason carried her back into the living room and deposited her onto the sofa. To focus on other people. But she just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more she could do. That she should do.

She’d just have to try again. And keep trying until it worked.

PCPD: Interrogation Room

Nadine really didn’t know at what point in her conversation with Jason she’d decided she was all in, but if she had to choose one—it had probably been the look on his face when he’d told her all he wanted was the safety of his family.

His family, which Nadine knew now included Elizabeth and her two boys. The family that also included Carly and her kids. And, until the other day on the docks, Sonny. Jason had protected Johnny, the man responsible for putting his best friend in the hospital bed, because he wanted peace. Needed it.

And if Nadine told the truth or if she backed out, peace would be impossible. Because it would be her fault, and Jason would probably be obligated to keep protecting her even if Johnny ended up in jail and the Zaccharas blamed her. Wouldn’t that be like aiming Anthony Zacchara right at Jason and his family?

Which didn’t even account for how unfair the cops would be about Johnny, especially considering what they were doing to him right now—Scott had dragged him in when Nadine knew they didn’t have any proof.

No. She needed to stick to the plan. The pressure would fade eventually, and then she and Johnny could…figure out how to make this all go away. It was all just insane, and when it was done, she wanted to be able to look back and know she’d done the right thing.

Sometimes the right thing and the legal thing weren’t the same.

Nadine paced the interrogation room, while Johnny sat sullenly at the table. He’d tried to make her go home, but she’d refused. She was his alibi, not that it would get to that she hoped. Johnny’s lawyer would make this all go away, but she wanted to be there just in case.

The door flicked open, and Scott strode in followed by Ric Lansing and, finally, by Mac. The commissioner closed the door and leaned against it. The special prosecutor scowled when he saw Nadine.

“What’s she doing here?” Scott jabbed a finger at her. “She doesn’t need to be here.”

Ric rolled his eyes, pulled out a chair and gestured at Nadine. She frowned, then sat next to Johnny. “Why is my client here?” he asked, sounding bored.

Scott snorted. “You must think I’m pretty stupid.”

“Actually,” Nadine began but Johnny silenced her with a glare. “Well, he shouldn’t give me an opening like that. It’s not fair.”

“Clearly, I was wrong at the trial,” he bit out. “You weren’t protecting Johnny to get in good with Nikolas Cassadine.”

Nadine offered him nothing but a blank stare. She’d expected this line of attack, so it didn’t bother her to hear it now.

“Does he know about this—” Scott gestured at them. “This happy union?”

“My clients are under no obligation to answer any questions, personal or otherwise,” Ric said calmly.

“Ah, bullshit. You can smell the stink on this from a mile away—”

Nadine opened her mouth, and Johnny kicked her. “Ow—” she rubbed her ankle. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Maybe you could just tell us where you were the day of the shooting, and we can get this over with,” Mac said before Scott could say anything.

“No. You tell me why we’re here, and I’ll decide if my clients have anything they want to share.” Ric arched a brow when neither man said anything. “If that’s all—”

“Twenty minutes before the first 911 call, Johnny and Nadine were seen exiting Kelly’s,” Mac said. “They had walked across that very pier to get to Kelly’s, so I assumed their car was parked on Elm Street and not at the diner. They were in the area. And with Sonny arrested last Saturday for going after Johnny, you can understand that we have questions.”

“Is that it? That’s your entire evidence? Fine.” Ric shifted slightly to face his client. “John, tell the cops where you went when you and Nadine left Kelly’s.”

Johnny looked at Scott. “We went for a drive. I proposed. We went to the airport. We went to Vegas. We got married. We came home.”

Scott leaned forward. “You think I believe a word of that?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” Johnny leaned in, too, his eyes locked on the other man’s. “Every single word of that statement is the truth.”

“John.” Ric touched his shoulder, and Johnny sat back. “Satisfied?” he asked Mac.

“I want to hear her say it.” Scott pointed at Nadine. “You always have something to say. Care to add on? Was it a romantic proposal?” he asked with a sneer.

Nadine wanted to feel sorry for this man who had lost his son in such a brutal, terrible way. And the truth of Logan’s death couldn’t have helped. What would it be like to know your son had died because he was attacking a woman? And Scott wasn’t wrong about any of it. Johnny had shot Sonny. Nadine did know the truth.

But this was not a man who cared about truth. He only cared how he could twist facts to fit into the story he’d already written. And Nadine wasn’t going to let him railroad Johnny again.

“Yes,” Nadine said. “Johnny and I had a great time in Vegas by the way. Let me know if you need a recommendation for a wedding chapel.” She sat back, folded her arms. “It was a very romantic proposal. You should be so lucky.”

“Oh, she’s lying through her teeth!” Scott waved his arm dismissively. “Little tramp would do anything to save the guy she’s currently banging—”

He’d no sooner finished speaking than Johnny shot out of his seat, jerked Scott up from the table and shoved the special prosecutor against the wall. “Don’t you ever speak about her that way again.”

“John!” Ric said. “Come on—”

Scott jerked out of Johnny’s grasp and glared at Mac. “Can you arrest him now?”

Mac raised his eyebrows at the still fuming Zacchara standing just inches from Scott. “For what?”

“Assault!” Scott countered, pointing at Johnny. “He assaulted me!”

“And you provoked him,” the harassed commissioner replied. Mac looked to Nadine. “I apologize on behalf of this department.”

“Accepted.” Nadine hesitated for a moment but crossed to Johnny and put her hand on his arm. “Can we go now? Have we answered all your questions?”

“For now,” Mac allowed. He hesitated and looked at Nadine. “I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

He took Scott by the arm and forcefully steered him towards the door. “You’re just determined to get this department sued, aren’t you?” Mac could be heard saying as they went into the squad room, closing the door behind him.

“Well, obviously he doesn’t believe me,” Nadine sighed, removing her hand. She glared at Johnny. “Do you like being arrested or something?”

“If I had let it go unpunished, Baldwin might have thought he could get away with treating people like that. I had enough of him doing that to Lulu. He wanted me to react, wanted a reason to keep me locked up.”

“Can I please recommend in the future that we refrain from physical interaction?” Ric wanted to know.

“With Baldwin around? I’m not making any promises.”

Jacks Estate: Living Room

Carly looked down at the cell phone again, willing it to ring with a miracle, for some news from the hospital that would stop her from having this conversation. But it remained stubbornly silent, and she knew she was out of time. Morgan had started to pick up pieces, and he’d be even more confused if it continued. She’d already waited too long.

She looked across the living room to her son. Morgan was tucked in his play area, his head bent over a coloring book.

Morgan’s teacher said she was sorry his dad was in a coma. I don’t know if he understood, but—

She scrubbed her hands down her face, and went to sit by her son, arranging herself in a cross-legged position. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hi.” Morgan looked up, flashed her a sweet smile, his dimple winking.

“There’s something we have to talk about. You know how Michael got hurt this year? That he had to go to sleep, and we don’t know when he’ll wake up?” Or if. Her precious baby might never wake up.

“Yeah.” Morgan stopped coloring, raised his head again. “Miss Milly said she hoped my daddy was with Michael, but I didn’t understand ’cause Michael’s sleeping at the hospital, and Daddy got married to Kate.”

“Well, that…. something happened, and Daddy couldn’t marry Kate anymore. Then your daddy…he got hurt.”

Morgan drew his dark brows together. “He’s hurt? Can I see him? Maybe I can kiss it better.”

“You can’t—it’s not that kind of hurt, honey. It’s like Michael. Daddy had to go to sleep. And we don’t know for how long.”

“I don’t want Daddy to sleep. I want you to wake him up. I want you to bring him home!” Morgan shoved his coloring book away and climbed to his feet. “You call him, Mommy. You tell him to get better and wake up right now.”

“I wish I could. I really do. But it doesn’t work like that. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—”

“You’re a liar! I hate you! You hate Daddy and you sent him away! You were mad at him, and you were mad at Michael and now they’re gone! You made Jax go away too! I hate you!” Morgan shoved her hard and took off for the stairs.

Carly didn’t follow him, just stayed sitting on the living room floor, wishing she could throw a tantrum like a child, and scream at the world.

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

“Are you sure it’s not too late?” Bobbie asked, handing her coat to Audrey. “I kept meaning to come by all day, but things just came up—”

“No, of course not.” Elizabeth sat up, wincing. Bobbie readjusted the pillow behind her back. “Thanks. You’re just in time actually. Gram is going to put the boys down for bed, and Jason had a meeting.” She sighed. A meeting that she wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t made up just to get out of the penthouse. “You can keep me from feeling sorry for myself that I’m stuck on this sofa.”

“Elizabeth is a terrible patient,” Audrey said to Bobbie with a smile. “And trust me, darling, I will happily hand bedtime back as soon as you’re capable of doing it yourself. Until that day, you’ll have to suck it up and let people take care of you.”

“I hate that,” Elizabeth muttered when her grandmother had disappeared up the stairs. Bobbie, sitting in the armchair, lifted a brow. Elizabeth’s cheeks heated. “I know it sounds ungrateful, but they make me feel like I can’t do anything for myself. Jason almost has a heart attack every time I take a few steps. And don’t tell me how scared everyone was. I don’t care.”

Bobbie just tilted her head in that way, and Elizabeth looked down, her throat tight. “I care, I do. I just—the world keeps falling apart and I can’t help the people I love make it okay—they won’t let me.”

“They? Or Jason?”

Elizabeth smiled faintly, lifted her gaze to Bobbie’s. “Bullseye. Gram fussing over me, that’s normal. But Jason—he uses it as an excuse,” she murmured, more to herself than Bobbie. “And I don’t know where he learned how to guilt trip someone, but he’s good at it. Keeps telling me that all he needs is for me to be okay, so that’s what I should focus on if I want to help.”

“The worst part of that,” Bobbie said, “is that he means every word of it.”

Elizabeth let her head fall back against the pillow. “Oh, my God. I know. And if you push back against that, you’re just an asshole, right? Like, oh, no the man you love wants to wait on you hand and foot, woes me, right? I know I’m lucky to have him and everyone else that’s helped.”

Bobbie leaned forward, picked up the tissue box on the coffee table, then came closer and sat on the sofa, by Elizabeth’s legs. She held out the box, and Elizabeth plucked out a tissue. “But?” she prompted.

“He won’t talk about Sonny, like, at all. He says facts, but he’s not letting himself process it. I know it hasn’t hit him. What happened with Michael, it was too big, too awful, and he’d only barely pulled it together after losing Emily—” She couldn’t speak, couldn’t force any more words out. “He loved that little boy. He still loves him like his own son, and I think a piece of him just went away when he found out Michael might never wake up. And I don’t know how to help him.”

Bobbie’s eyes were damp as she reached for her own tissue. “You’re right, you’re right. It’s this enormous hole at the center of all our lives, and I just—I watch Carly struggling with it, and she’s only barely scratched the surface of processing it. For Jason, to lose Emily and Michael so close together, and now Sonny—”

“I should be able to help him. I should be able to get through, you know? Why can’t I find the right words? Gram keeps saying I’ll know the right moment and what to do, but I won’t I’ll just mess it up. I always do. I always hurt him worse, and that’s all I’ll do now, I know it.”

“Honey—”

“I did—he lost Alan, and I asked him to give up Jake a few days later, did you know that?” She pressed her lips together, struggled to force the words out. “Emily died, and I asked him to let Lucky keep raising Jake. To keep the lie. And Michael—I agreed with him. I let him go, and I shouldn’t have done that. He needed me, Bobbie, and I didn’t hold on. And now, he’s lost Sonny, and I can’t even help him. Of course not, why would he trust me to do that—”

“All right, all right, you need to stop all that because I can’t hug you without hurting you,” Bobbie managed, and Elizabeth laughed, then started to cry harder. Bobbie stroked her hair. “You are doing the best you can, honey—”

“But he deserves better—”

“He deserves you. You deserve each other, and those boys deserve a family.” Bobbie took her hands, held them together between both of hers. “Jason learned a long time ago that it was easier to close himself off than to feel. And he learned that long before you came along. Those were lessons learned from the Quartermaines, from Robin and from Sonny, and Carly.”

“I did my own damage,” Elizabeth said. She twisted the tissue in her hands. “But I used to be able to tease him out of it. I used to…he used to look at me, Bobbie, and I’d feel so much love. When I was in the hospital, before Sonny was shot, he was still doing that. Still looking at me. He was talking. But now I’m here, and he just talks past me. Talks about the boys, talks about me resting, or what’s for dinner. And I’m afraid that I’ll just keep poking at him until he blows up, and that’s not what I want.”

“You want to skip the part where you have to dig and prod,” Bobbie said, and Elizabeth nodded, wrinkling her nose. “Well, that’s fair, enough. But that kind of ease, it comes with time. You and Jason have been around each other for years, but—correct me if I’m wrong—this is the first time you’ll actually be…together. In the open. Building a life where people can see you.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point. Just because Jason and I have been in love for years, it doesn’t mean we know what to do with each other now.”

“And your grandmother had a point. The time is going to come when you’ll know what to say. How to reach him. But it might not be easy. And you may fight and hurt each other and keep going in circles. Because he has to be ready. And there’s no amount of pushing, poking, or prodding that’s going to make that happen.”

Elizabeth smiled wryly. “No, that’s true. I guess I’ll just have to be patient. Which is exactly what Gram said. Since you guys are two of the smartest women I know, I guess I have to listen.”

+21

This entry is part 30 of 32 in the These Small Hours: Book 1

We were drawn from the weeds
We were brave like soldiers
Falling down under the pale moonlight
You were holding me
Like someone broken
And I couldn’t tell you, but I’m telling you now
Just let me hold you while you’re falling apart
Just let me hold you and we’ll both fall down
– Ever the Same, Rob Thomas

Friday, October 3, 2008

Harborview Towers: Lobby

Nadine paced the short length of space between the sofas in the lobby of Harborview Towers, wringing her hands. She didn’t even know why she was here — not really. Only that the exchange with Leyla had cut deeply — her friend had looked at her the way everyone had a year ago.

The whispers would start again, Nadine realized. She hadn’t really been in Port Charles long enough to have a reputation of her own. She was still Jolene’s sister, that crazy bitch who’d hurt so many people and put the hospital in danger. And now she’d married Johnny Zacchara days after he’d haunted the hospital trying to see his mentally ill girlfriend — married him in the wake of Sonny’s shooting — no matter what choice Nadine made, which side she took —

There would always be people who would congratulate themselves for never trusting Nadine in the first place. For never looking past the Crowell name. And there would be others who castigated themselves for ever giving Nadine a chance at all.

“Nadine?”

She turned at the sound of Jason’s approach. He was dressed to leave — with a leather jacket thrown over his sweater. “Oh. You came down so fast. I wasn’t—” She licked her lips. “I’m sorry to bother you. You’ve already done so much for me, and I feel terrible—”

“It’s okay. I was on my way out. Are you okay?” Jason tipped his head. “Johnny left me a message that you were back, and things had gone the way you planned.” He hesitated. “Has something changed?”

“No. Yes. No.” Nadine sank onto one of the sofas, put her head in her hands. “I can’t do this. I promised, and I thought I could, and I was doing okay, but now I’m here, and it’s so real, and I’m not going to be able to do it.”

She heard him move and looked up to find Jason sitting in one of the chairs next to the sofa. “If you need a place to go, or to stay—if you’re worried about the Zaccharas—”

“How can you help us?” Nadine asked dully, staring down at the tiled floors. “Johnny shot your best friend. Everyone said you were like family. And I’m protecting him.” Jason fell silent, and she squeezed her eyes shut, mortified. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that’s not fair and it’s none of my business.”

“Sonny has blamed Johnny for everything that’s gone wrong since the first day the kid came to Port Charles.” Jason’s quiet, calm words jerked Nadine’s eyes open, and she met Jason’s gaze. “Has he told you about the asylum?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Sonny shot first,” Jason said, and Nadine exhaled slowly. Then nodded. “And he shot at Johnny, could have killed anyone else around him, including you. None of what’s happened since then changes that fact.”

“No. No, I guess it doesn’t.” She chewed her bottom lip. “But—”

“Maybe some men in this business…” Jason hesitated. “Men like Anthony or Trevor Lansing wouldn’t care about the truth. Johnny knew that. He knew his father wouldn’t care that Sonny shot first or that Johnny was trying to protect himself and you. You’re a witness, Nadine, who puts his son at the scene of a crime.”

“I understand all of that, I do. A-And believe me, after telling them what we did in Vegas—” Nadine rubbed her hands across her thighs. “But—Sonny is still your friend.”

“As long as Sonny blamed Johnny for everything bad that happened to him, we were always going to end up here.” Jason’s expression was grim. “I can’t go back and do a better job of keeping the peace. I can’t fix what’s happened, Nadine. Or make Sonny wake up. I can’t stop you from going on the docks or Johnny from taking Lulu to the church. None of that can be changed. All we can do is think about tomorrow. What happens next.”

Jason waited a moment. “I want it to stop,” he continued, his voice low, and she thought it sounded a little strained. “I want the violence to stop. I want my family to be safe. I understand what happened and why Sonny is in that hospital bed. If making sure Johnny gets away with it is the price I have to pay to keep the people that matter out of danger, then it’s worth it.”

Nadine’s smile was wobbly as she nodded. “Yeah, okay. I can understand that. If I, um, if I changed my mind, if I let the PCPD know what happened, Scott would drag Johnny into a trial. And maybe he wouldn’t get lucky this time. And judging from the way Anthony and Claudia Zacchara acted yesterday, I don’t think it’ll take much to push them. It’s just…” She swiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. And I’m making it your problem when I should just take care of myself. It’s just—everyone’s looking at me like I did this horrible thing because Lulu isn’t well, and I just don’t know what to do.”

She cleared her throat, looked away from Jason, pushed herself to her feet. “And it’s still not your problem to solve. I’m sorry.”

Nadine was halfway to the door before she heard Jason call her name. She turned back to find him with a phone at his ear, gesturing for her to come back. “What’s wrong?”

Jason ended the call, put the phone in his pocket. “A friend at the PCPD. Baldwin just dragged Johnny in for questioning.”

Nadine exhaled slowly. “Oh.”

“His lawyer’s on his way, but there’s a chance that Baldwin will hold him for as long as he can. That’s seventy-two hours—”

“But that’s not fair. He—” Nadine shook her head. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.”

She left then, shoving the door to the street open. The brisk October wind hit her cheeks, chilling the streaks left by the tears she’d shed inside.

She had a choice to make, and there was nothing else Jason Morgan could do to help her.

PCPD: Squad Room

When the double doors to the squad room sprang open and Johnny Zacchara was led in, his hands cuffed behind his back and Scott Baldwin following with a satisfied, smug expression on his face, Mac thought about going out the window in his office and submitting his resignation on his way to Bali.

Because he did not get paid nearly enough to put up with Scott, his vendettas, and refusal to listen to basic common sense.

But instead, Mac remained standing in the center of the room, and just tipped his head towards the interrogation room. “Put him in there,” he told the uniform whose hand was wrapped around Johnny’s bicep. “I’m sure his lawyer is already on his way.”

“He will be when I get my phone call,” Johnny said.

“I know Ric’s number, I’ll take care of it,” Mac said.

“Appreciate it.”

With that, the uniformed cop tugged the younger man towards the room, and Mac turned his attention on Scott. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You had my uniforms arrest him without a warrant?”

“I had probable cause,” Scott said, folding his arms, a bullish light in his eyes. “You weren’t bothering to do anything—”

Mac shook his head. “I’m not doing with this you. I’m not. Ric is going to come down here, he’ll get Johnny released in twelve seconds, and then we’re going to be even less than nowhere—”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Please. We’ll hold him for at least seventy-two hours, which will give that new wife of his the time and space to think about her actions. Why don’t you call her? Let her know the hubby has been dragged in?”

“Nadine Crowell flew across the country to marry him, Scott. She had hours to change her mind—”

“With Zacchara breathing down her neck? Playing the sympathy card? The brooding, misunderstood victim?” Scott snorted. “We give her a few days, maybe she changes her mind.”

“And then Ric files a harassment charge—”

“I got probable cause to bring him in. Maybe we don’t get to charge him today,” Scott shot back, “but we’re going to do this, Mac. I’m not letting Johnny put another body in the morgue—”

“He didn’t put the first one in there,” Mac said quietly. “And you know it. You don’t like Lulu’s story. Or that Maxie’s statement backs it up. Don’t forget, Lulu stopped your son from going after my daughter.”

Scott flinched, and Mac felt a small spiral of shame. “That’s the story they all came up with, but I don’t believe it. And Logan? He’s not here to defend himself. So I’ll wait right here until that lawyer shows up, and then we’re going to do this whether you like it or not.”

“Fine, but we’ll do it my way. You can’t question him, Scott,” Mac cut in. “Unless you want to be a witness in your own case. So shut up and let me do my job.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

“This was the worst time to get into a car accident,” Elizabeth muttered, leaning back against the sofa, pressing a hand to her abdomen where her long-sleeved shirt covered the bandage from her surgery.

“Did you say something, darling?” Audrey asked, leading Cameron in from the kitchen, his little hand tucked in hers.

“No. No. Are you leaving for school, baby?” Elizabeth asked, forcing herself to sit up, wincing when Cameron came forward to hug her. “You’re sure you’re okay to take him, Gram?”

“Well, if it were just me, likely not. But Jason has offered me a driver.” Audrey looked through her purse, then put the strap over her shoulder. “He’s a nice young man. Milo something or other.”

“Giambetti. He’s one of…I know his brother.” And Elizabeth wondered, sadly, if Max and his brother had returned to Jason’s employ with Sonny in the hospital. There was so much going on, so many changes, and she couldn’t do anything to help. She was useless—

But what if she hadn’t had the accident? Where would they be then?

That thought had been lurking for a while now, and with nothing to distract her as Audrey left for the school with Cameron in tow, and Jake taking his morning nap, Elizabeth didn’t have anything else to think about.

If Elizabeth had made it home from the airport — this would all still be a secret, she thought. Because Jason had come forward only because she was injured, because it had made him realize that time was short, and they’d wasted too much of it. And maybe he’d been a little worried that her accident was connected to Kate’s shooting. He’d acted impulsively that first night, and every action since then had stemmed from that choice.

But if there hadn’t been the accident, then Jason would have been free to focus on Kate’s shooting. Maybe Sonny wouldn’t have felt the need to do it on his own or confront Johnny Zacchara.

Maybe Sonny wouldn’t be lying unresponsive in a hospital room.

Elizabeth pressed her hands to her face, took a deep breath, and shoved all of that out of her head. Whatever the reasons were, she and Jason were now together in the eyes of the world, and the people who mattered knew about Jake. Jason was dealing with whatever was wrong at the hospital, Kate’s shooting, Johnny Zacchara, and Sonny’s situation. She could sit here wallowing in all of that and creating more doubts in her own mind, or she could just suck it up and focus on getting better. Getting stronger.

The sooner she was up and moving around, the sooner Jason could cross her off the list of problems to worry about. And maybe then he’d stop tiptoeing around her and he’d let her help him. He’d talk to her, and she wouldn’t feel like she was a guest. Even her own grandmother seemed more at home in Jason’s penthouse than Elizabeth did, and that couldn’t continue.

She’d dreamed about Jason fighting for their life together, and he’d done it. She’d been unconscious for a lot of it but Elizabeth wasn’t going to let that bother her. He’d made an impulsive choice that night, but he’d still made it. So she’d make sure he didn’t regret it.

Elizabeth found the cell phone Audrey had left next to her, and called the one person who might understand.

“Hello?”

“Robin. Hey. How are you feeling? Is this a good time?”

“Well,” Robin said, with a sigh, “it’s as good a time as any. I’ve docked myself on the sofa, and Patrick’s at work. I thought about getting up, but I don’t think it’s worth it.”

“I remember that stage of pregnancy,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “Five weeks until the date, right?”

“It can’t be fast enough. I need this baby out.” Robin waited for a beat. “But how are you? Patrick told me what happened at the hospital. Please tell me Jason’s filled you in by now.”

“He did. He waited until yesterday, but I know. It’s…a lot. Jason said this morning that they think they know how it was done, so it’s probably over at least as far as GH is concerned.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Gram seemed relieved, but I don’t know if it’s enough to know how.”

“Patrick tried to convince me he’s going to put this away, but I don’t believe him. Or Jason, if he’s saying the same. You almost died, Elizabeth. I don’t think any of us are going to forget that.”

“No.” Elizabeth shifted, wincing as pain slid sharply through her. She’d declined the pain meds her grandmother had given her, opting for simple over the counter Tylenol, but that meant she was feeling a lot right now. “I’m…I’m sorry about Sonny.”

Robin was quiet for a long moment. “I’ve been avoiding it. Not thinking about it. It still doesn’t feel real,” she finally said. “I can’t imagine what Jason is going through. How he’s handling it. If he’s handling it at all, which I doubt.”

“He’s doing what he always does,” Elizabeth murmured, looking around the penthouse, at all the pieces of evidence that four new people were staying here, including two small children. “He spends all his time taking care of everyone else and puts himself at the bottom of the list.”

“Are you going to let him get away with that? Because I can’t chase him, and you know Carly isn’t going to try very hard.”

“It’s hard to push Jason into taking care of himself,” Elizabeth admitted. “Because he spends all his time taking care of you, and you end up feeling selfish for demanding more from him.”

Robin sighed. “Some things never change.”

Metro Court Hotel: Lobby

Carly sighed when she saw her mother pass through the hotel’s entrance and turned to the receptionist behind the desk. “Jenny, can you call my office? Tell Ang to hold that next meeting.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Jacks.”

Carly winced at the use of her married name. She was never changing her name again, she thought. Not that she’d ever be stupid enough to get married again. Three husbands were more than enough for a lifetime. “Mama,” she said, meeting her mother halfway, kissing her cheek. “What brings you by? You want a late breakfast?”

“No. No. I’m running a few errands for Audrey, and then heading downtown to volunteer at the clinic.” Bobbie squeezed her hand. “I wanted to see how it went when you told Morgan yesterday.”

Carly winced, and her mother sighed. “I meant to, but I got caught up at the hospital, and then I ran into Scott and Jax. We had a fight—by the time I got home, I just—”

“Carly—”

“I’m really not trying to avoid this, I promise,” Carly said. She pressed her clipboard to her chest, wrapping her arms around her torso. “I know I have to tell him. It’s just—it’s hard.”

“I know, honey. But if you keep avoiding it, you’re going to lose the chance to do it yourself. You should know better than anyone. Tell the truth, or someone else will tell it for you.”

PCPD: Interrogation Room

Johnny twisted his hand so that he could rub his other wrist, sore from the cuffs that Scott had refused to have removed, even though Johnny was locked up in the interrogation room.

He skulked around the room, stopping in front of the window that usually had a view into the squad room, but the shade had been drawn from the other side, so there was nothing to indicate who was out there or if Ric had made his way up from Crimson Pointe yet.

He knew Scott didn’t have anything on him. If there was evidence to be found, Mac would have already brought him in — and the police commissioner had looked pissed to see Johnny at all. The arrest was bullshit — but Johnny wasn’t ready to trust that Baldwin didn’t have an ace up his sleeve.

And there was always the chance Nadine would change her mind. All she’d have to do is go to Scott, admit they’d gotten married to keep her from testifying against him, and the spousal privilege would be invalidated. Johnny didn’t think she’d do that, but he didn’t know her that well, not really.

She had a sense of right or wrong that was almost admirable, except he knew it got her into trouble all the time. And she was impulsive — which was mostly how they’d gotten everything all twisted up. He knew she was having second thoughts — she’d woken this morning and everything had seemed so much more real—he’d seen it in her eyes when she’d all but run from the bedroom earlier.

And now he’d have to call her because he’d be in lockup for however long Scott could hold him. Unless Ric worked some sort of special magic—

“He’s right in here.” Johnny turned at the sound of Mac’s voice and saw the door open. Nadine came around the corner, and Johnny stared at her, confused. She still wore the leggings and hooded jacket she’d left the apartment in several hours ago, her blonde hair pulled back from her face, but there were tear stains on her cheeks and her eyes looked a little red.

“What are you doing here?” Johnny demanded. “Did they arrest you, too?” He turned furious eyes to Mac. “You don’t have a damn right—”

“She showed up on her own,” Mac interrupted, sounding almost bored, “and said she wanted to talk to you. Since I don’t want you here at all, I figured what the hell, right?” He pulled the door shut.

“How?” Johnny cleared his throat, stopped. “Why are you here?”

“Um, I don’t know—are they recording us?” Nadine’s eyes flicked up to the camera in the corner. “Because we don’t have an expectation of privacy, right? That’s what they told me the first time I got arrested.”

Johnny opened his mouth. “The first time?”

“Back in Ohio. I was arrested at a protest. I punched a cop,” Nadine folded her arms. “Anyway. Um, I heard they brought you in. I figured you used your call for your lawyer, so I just…” She bit her lip, came closer to him, her blue eyes avoiding looking at him directly. “I showed up here.”

“You don’t have to—” Johnny started. “This is…” He wanted to tell her it wasn’t what she’d signed on for, but it’d be a lie. Of course she’d signed up for this. It had literally been the basis for their mad dash for Las Vegas.

But the conversation at the penthouse that day felt like a fever dream now, like so much of the last two days did. Nadine hadn’t signed up for any of this when he’d caught her at the hospital that morning and talked her into helping him build a case with Nikolas to see Lulu.

How could so much have happened since then?

Nadine bit her lip, flicked her eyes past him to the camera again, then fisted her hands in his shirt and leaned in, brushing her mouth against his lightly, not pulling all the way back so that their breath mingled. “It’s where your wife would be, isn’t it?” she asked softly, her hand sliding up to his neck, framing the line of his jaw with her fingers. “That’s what I promised to do. I made a promise,” she repeated and now she did pull back just enough so that their eyes met. “I keep my promises.”

Drake Condo: Living Room

Patrick closed the door behind him, dropped his keys on the desk. “Hey, you almost ready—” He paused when saw Robin in the dining area, a photo album on the table, and a box of photos next to her. “What’s that?”

She sighed, then held out a photo. Patrick studied it — a much younger Robin, Sonny, and Brenda with a man he didn’t know — but recognized from pictures. “Stone?”

“Sonny was like his brother,” Robin murmured. “Stone had an actual older brother, Jagger, but they never got along that well.” She held out another photo of Robin and Sonny in front of the Christmas tree. “I talked to Elizabeth a little while ago, and I just…I can’t believe I’ll never talk to Sonny again.”

“I’m sorry. I know how close you were once.” He sat next to her, stroked her shoulder.

“It was another lifetime ago,” Robin said with a shake of her head. “Sonny took Jason when we broke up, though I know he wouldn’t have seen it that way. We just…we grew apart, and by the time I came home three years ago, all we really shared anymore was Stone.”

Patrick sorted through the photos, found another of Robin with a different woman. “I don’t know her.”

“Sonny’s first wife, Lily.” Robin took the photo from him. “She was really kind to Stone, too. He died in Sonny’s penthouse, did you know that? He was still married to Lily then. Then she died in an explosion about—” She squinted. “Six months later, I think. Car bomb at Luke’s.” She set the photo down. “It was meant for Sonny. But he cheated death. He dodged it so many times, you know. I got to think of him as invincible.”

Patrick reached for her hand, squeezed it. “The procedure went well yesterday,” he told her, and she flashed him a smile. “We eased the swelling. You know—”

“The chance is small that it will make a difference. I know. It’s not so different from Michael. Not enough to call brain death, but not quite enough to eliminate all hope.” She rested her chin on her first. “It might have been better for everyone if it was a clean break instead of this ambiguity. Do you mourn the man who still breathes even though he’ll never wake? Or do you wait for a miracle?”

+21

This entry is part 29 of 32 in the These Small Hours: Book 1

My foes and friends watch my reign end
I don’t know how it could’ve ended this way
Smoke billows from my ships in the harbor
People look at me like I’m a monster
Now they’re screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name
Now they’re screaming that they hate me
Never wanted you to hate me
– Castles Crumbling, Taylor Swift

Friday, October 3, 2008

Nadine’s Apartment: Bedroom

The shrill beeping broke Johnny out of a solid sleep, and he jerked straight up, rubbing his eyes, bewildered by the strange sound and then by his surroundings. The light had only just begun to creep through the blinds drawn in the room’s one miserly window.

“What the hell is that sound—”

“Oh, sorry, sorry—” The sheets rustled, and then the sound cut off abruptly. “Sorry. I forgot to tell you I’m sort of a morning person when I’m not on night shift.”

Johnny blinked, clearing the sleep from his eyes, blearily looking at the woman next to him — slowly reality began to drift in, and he remembered where he was—and who he was with.

“It’s…” He stifled a yawn, shoved the sheet aside to rise to his feet. “Yeah, it’s fine. I, uh—need to get up earlier more often.” Johnny scratched his chest absently, scanning the room for his suitcase which he’d dragged in sometime after they’d eaten pizza for dinner.

“I should have turned it off or something,” Nadine said, getting out of the bed, restlessly shoving the sheet back up to the pillow.

He glanced at her, struck suddenly by the insanity of the situation he found himself in. It was different waking up here in Port Charles, in Nadine’s apartment. In her bedroom. In Vegas, it all seemed surreal, almost like acting out a play—even last night, when he’d driven to Port Charles—

But now it was morning. And he was looking at his wife, in the Hello Kitty nightshirt she’d donned before going to sleep. There was a red line crease on her cheek from the pillow, and her blonde hair was mussed. He’d married Nadine Crowell. And they were sleeping together.

He stared down at the shaving kit he’d pulled out of the side zipper, a bit disconcerted by all of it. It was real today in a way it hadn’t been before—and he realized being back in Port Charles, people were going to find out. People who knew Lulu. Who might find a way to tell her if she ever recovered—

Johnny’s stomach pitched at the thought of Lulu finding out he’d married someone else only a few days after her terrible breakdown—and that he’d already started sleeping with her. Johnny opened his mouth, to maybe suggest to Nadine that they needed to rethink the sleeping arrangements—

“I usually go for a run when I have the mornings off,” Nadine said, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. She crossed to her dresser, pulled out some leggings and a long-sleeved shirt with the University of Ohio-Athens logo emblazoned across it. She shot him a rueful, almost nervous grin. “I don’t think you’re much of a morning person, huh?”

“Not without a few gallons of coffee, no,” Johnny said.

“Oh, well, I always have plenty of that. So, um—” She held the clothes to her chest. “I’ll just get changed and head out. If that’s—I mean, we don’t have to do anything else today, do we?”

“No. I mean, you don’t. I need to track down Jason. Find out what’s going on.” Johnny gripped the shaving kit more tightly. “Listen—”

“This is so weird and awkward, which I don’t really understand except I do, so let’s just—” Nadine flashed him another smile. “Let’s just skip it, okay? I, um, I’ll go get changed, and you go do whatever you want. Help yourself to whatever.”

She was out of the bedroom, and the bathroom door had closed before Johnny had even registered what she’d said.

It was weird and awkward, and he felt terrible for it since he’d started the physical side of their relationship. He’d talked her into bed twice in Vegas, and maybe yesterday—it had made sense. But now Johnny wasn’t so sure if it was a good idea to keep mixing all of this and making it confused.

He and Nadine would just have to find a way to figure that out — after she went for a run, and he had some coffee.

Morgan Penthouse: Kitchen

Across town, Jason carefully set Elizabeth down into a chair at the kitchen table. “I told you we’d bring you something in the living room if you really want to be downstairs—” he said when he saw her face twist in pain.

“No. No. It’s okay.” She gripped the edge of the table, offered both her sons a reassuring smile. “It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. It was a lot more painful recovering from Jake’s C-section…” She smiled when Audrey set down a cup of tea and discreetly handed her pain medication. “And the best way to do this is to move around.”

Jason still looked hesitant but dropped his protest. He brought his own coffee to the table and sat down. “Thank you, Mrs. Hardy, for breakfast. I would have—”

“Wrestling Cameron into his school clothes is a far more useful task for you, Jason.” Audrey patted his hand reassuringly. “He wriggles away from me far too easily.”

“Are you giving Jason and Gram a hard time, Cameron?” Elizabeth asked her oldest who just made a face.

“Hate school. Sleep better.”

“You can sleep when you graduate.” Elizabeth popped her meds into her mouth, drank some water. “And you like your teacher. And your class—”

“How come I got a new room?” Cameron cut in. “How many rooms are there? I miss my swing set.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, glanced down at her plate, unsure how to combat that criticism. In the last week, Cameron had gone from their house with his own room, to sharing rooms at Lucky’s, then Audrey’s, and now Jason’s. Not to mention the time he’d spent with Carly. He’d been shuffled around a lot over the last week, and he had a right to be a little put out by it all.

“Well, Mommy needed some help to get better after her car accident, sweetheart. And you know I can’t carry her around,” Audrey said. “Jason can.”

“Oh.” Cameron considered this, then looked at his mother. “You still hurt?”

“A little. And I have to be careful if I want to get better quickly.” Elizabeth smiled at Jason, who looked a bit lost with the conversation. She knew he hadn’t planned to confuse or upset the boys by moving them to his place, and they couldn’t tell a four-year-old that they’d done so for security.

“This weekend, I’ll be feeling good enough to go to the park. Maybe we can go to the swing set there,” she suggested. She looked at Jason. “I mean, if you think you can. I can’t—”

“Yeah. Yes,” he said, this time more firmly. “Just tell me when. I’ll make it happen.” Their eyes met, and she knew that he wasn’t making that promise lightly. He really was trying — she just wished she knew how to help him cope with what Sonny was facing.

Her grandmother had cautioned patience, but Elizabeth wasn’t sure she was going to be able to manage it for long. He was taking on too much, and she worried that he wasn’t confiding in anyone. Without Sonny, without Emily — all that remained was Elizabeth and Carly, and Elizabeth doubted Jason would burden Carly with how he was feeling.

She’d try to give him some space, but eventually — he was going to have to face what was going on. She just hoped her grandmother was right — that Elizabeth would know the right moment to push, and not chase him into shutting down even more.

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Nadine pocketed her headphones in her zippered jacket, then pulled open the door to the diner. It was just after the morning rush for the dock workers, and there was a bit of a lull —

But that didn’t mean it was empty. Leyla Mir was at the counter, a cup of coffee in her hand. She glanced over at the door when the bell jingled, only to look back as if registering who had walked in.

“Hey. ” Nadine pasted a friendly smile on her face, approached the counter. “Are you on your way to work?”

“Yes,” Leyla said shortly. She set some money on the counter. “Don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

Nadine folded her arms a bit, uncomfortable with Leyla’s frosty tone. “Not really. I don’t have work again until Sunday—”

“Oh, so you’re not preoccupied with your new husband?” Nadine could almost see the acid dripping from Leyla’s words, and she flinched. “Did you think no one had heard about your little trip to Las Vegas?”

“No. I just meant to call and tell you myself,” Nadine said slowly. “We got back last night, and it was a long drive from Crimson Pointe—”

“You know, I thought you and Lulu were friends,” Leyla cut in. “She’s had a mental breakdown, and you’ve married her boyfriend within a week! What could you be thinking? It can’t be the money. You’ve never given a damn about any of that.”

“It’s…”

“And I can’t quite bring myself to believe you’d do anything to help Johnny Zacchara cover up that shooting on the docks, so what exactly? Were you overcome with lust or something? Are you pregnant? Were you cheating with him? Is that why you got into trouble at his trial?”

Nadine’s head was spinning. She held both her hands up. “Whoa, just wait a second—”

“Because it must be one of those reasons. Nothing else makes sense—”

“You don’t buy that Johnny and I were just lonely and we liked each other?” Nadine said, but her voice sounded so unsure and a bit shaky that Leyla continued to scowl.

“He doesn’t let a lot of dust settle, does he? I’m surprised he had time to feel lonely at all,” Leyla said, her British accent making her sound even more irritated. “This makes no sense at all, Nadine. Unless you’re someone that I don’t know at all.”

“Leyla—”

“Because anyone who would jump into marriage, into bed with her friend’s boyfriend mere days after she’d had a mental breakdown—and don’t tell me you and Lulu weren’t that close. You knew her well enough. I’m just so—” She shook her head. “I’m so very disappointed in you, Nadine. You’re not who I thought you were at all.”

General Hospital: Conference Room

Maxie dropped the plastic bag on the table. “Ugh, orange soda for breakfast. What is wrong with you?”

“Orange juice is appropriate but not orange soda?” Spinelli wrinkled his nose, reached for the bottle she held out. “This seems arbitrary to the Jackal—and bless my Maximista—” He held the barbecue chips to his chest. “I’d be lost without you.”

“You say that, but it’s clear you don’t trust me.” Maxie sat down, pouted. “You won’t tell me anything about your super-secret project—”

Spinelli popped open the bag, offered it to her. “It is nothing but boring medical jargon. Does the fair Maximista wish for a crash course in programming languages? It could be arranged—”

“You think you’re going to twist me up again and distract me, but it won’t work. I’m on to you, Jackal Boy.” She wiggled her finger in his face. “No more stalling. Spill your beans.”

Spinelli busied himself looking through the paperwork, trying to think how to throw her off the scent. He had to distract her — but with what? He saw a nurse pass them through the blinds, then made a face. He didn’t have a choice, he thought. He’d have to betray a friend who trusted him.

“Did you perchance stop by Kelly’s this morning?” Spinelli wanted to know. “The Jackal wondered if perhaps the Noble Nurse Nadine came in for coffee. She often does on her day off.”

“No! And don’t distract me, I told you! I’m going to get you this time—unless—” Maxie squinted. “Is Nadine involved in this?”

“One could say that. The Jackal, of course, supports all his friends in their decisions, but how will the Blonde One take this news?”

Thrown, Maxie closed her mouth. “What? Lulu? Spinelli—”

“He finds himself torn between hoping she is well enough to learn the truth, but also never hoping she does—”

“What truth?” Maxie grabbed his shirt. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on—”

“I’m surprised you didn’t already hear. “Noble Nurse Nadine married the Septic Son yesterday in Las Vegas.”

“Noble—Septic—married?” Maxie shrieked. “Are you kidding me? Johnny and Nadine got married? What the hell is going on? How could he do that to Lulu? How could she do that to Nikolas? Oh, this is absolutely wild. He won’t get away with this. I won’t let him!”

She whirled around and darted out of the conference room. Spinelli sent up a silent apology to his friend Nadine and got back to work. Sometimes you had to play a little dirty to get what you needed — and Spinelli needed a quiet room and a distracted Maximista.

“Good luck, Noble Nurse Nadine. You’re going to need it.”

Drake Condo: Living Room

Patrick shoved aside a pile of paperwork, looking for the checklist from Robin’s last doctor’s appointment. Robin sat on the sofa, eating a slice of pineapple and ham pizza that made him feel ill. Pregnancy cravings were absolutely ridiculous, he thought. Pizza in the morning wasn’t that big of a deal, but pineapple and ham was a step too far.

“So if Spinelli can build this firewall, is that where you’re going to leave it?” Robin wanted to know. She chased the pizza with a sip of her orange juice, and Patrick decided he needed to look away if he wanted to keep his own breakfast down.

“Until he can trace the glitch back to when it started and build the database of misfires, yeah, I’ll have to.”

“But will you be able to leave it at that?” she asked gently. She touched his arm. “You take on the weight of too much, Patrick. You’re the chief of the medical staff, not the world.”

“I should have known there were serious issues with those machines—”

“You did! You’ve been fighting to replace them!”

“I should have tried harder. Instead, the nurses have been stuck trying to find patterns that Spinelli tell me were impossible, and—”

“Not everything in the hospital is your problem—”

“If this happened on your watch,” Patrick said, “are you telling me you wouldn’t blame yourself?”

Robin made a face, set the plate with her pizza crust on the coffee table, and rested a hand on her belly. “No. But that doesn’t mean I’m not right—”

“I’m going to do my best to put this behind me and not obsess over it,” Patrick said. “I’m going to trust that Spinelli will come through on a way to give us some sense of peace. But that doesn’t mean I can just let myself off the hook.”

“It’s going to take longer than two months to clean up a mess that took more than a year to make,” Robin told him, then she sighed. “I don’t want to fight about this.”

“Neither do I.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back after lunch to pick you up for our doctor’s appointment. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Kelly’s: Diner

Nearly an hour after Nadine’s run-in with Leyla, Johnny found his way to the diner, hoping to get something to eat. He wasn’t much of a cook, and there was nothing in Nadine’s kitchen that didn’t require preparation.

He was going to need a new way to fill his hours, Johnny thought, sliding into an empty chair at one of the tables. He picked up the menu, perused the choices he mostly had memorized. If he was going to be in Port Charles for the foreseeable future, then—

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Babyface Zacchara.”

Johnny tensed, glanced over the tip of the menu to find Scott Baldwin glowering at him. “Scott—”

“That’s Mr. Baldwin to you, wise guy.” Scott pulled out his cell phone, jabbed in a few numbers. “And it’s about time you showed your face around here—yeah, it’s Baldwin. I need a couple of uniforms over here. I have a suspect to take into custody.”

Johnny knew Scott was only half-bluffing — he was definitely calling for cops to come pick Johnny up — but if Johnny were to leave before they arrived, there wasn’t much Scott could do. Then again, maybe it was time to get this over with and see where they stood.

“I guess I should get my lawyer on the phone if we’re going to be having lunch together. You mind if I order something to go?” Johnny asked, tossing the menu on the table, and searching inside his pocket for his own cell phone.

“Yeah, why not? Be my guest. You could also just save us all some time and misery by admitting to gunning Sonny Corinthos down on the pier.” Scott gripped the chair across from Johnny. “What happened? You miss last Saturday? Hit the blushing bride and you just needed to finish the job? Like last April?”

Johnny’s fingers paused over the speed dial leading to Ric. Last April. Michael. Christ, Scott was really going for the triple crown trying to link him to all three shootings. Keep your mouth shut, he thought. If Scott had something, there would have been a warrant out for him.

“But I hear you’ve got a solid alibi for that church shooting.” Scott tipped his head, sneering. “You used your crazy girlfriend for a shield again. Rumor has it she lost it so bad this time they shipped her away—”

“Didn’t you used to be married to her mother?” Johnny asked, idly. He looked at Scott, was assured that he’d struck a nerve when the older man flinched. “Weren’t you the last person who talked to Mrs. Spencer before she had her breakdown?”

“You don’t know a damn thing—”

“I know you have nothing, Scott—”

“What I have is a guy who always seems to be around when something happens to Sonny Corinthos or his family.” Scott’s scowl only deepened. “And so much for your loyalty to that girlfriend of yours. I hear congratulations are in order. You’re on to your next blonde — someone else who threw herself on the pyre and martyred herself at your trial. Lulu went crazy, Nadine ended up with contempt charges—”

Scott’s tirade broke off when the door behind them swung open, the bell jangling. Maxie stalked in, blue eyes lit with fury.

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here after what you did to Lulu!” she cried. She fisted her hands at her hips. “She lost her mind trying to help you, to tell the truth, and you went and married someone else? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Johnny just shook his head. “I don’t owe you any answers—” He rose to his feet, but his height didn’t intimidate Maxie at all. She just lifted her chin so that their eyes still met.

“No, but you owe them to Lulu. She just can’t collect. My God, Johnny, did you ever love her at all?”

Johnny opened his mouth, nearly swallowed his tongue. He’d wanted to defend himself, to explain it — but he couldn’t of course —

Then he saw uniforms in the courtyard through the window behind Scott. Johnny had never been so relieved to be arrested.

+20

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