As I walked out on the ledge
Are you scared to death to live?
And I’ve been running all my life
Just to find a home that’s for the restless
And the truth that’s in the message
Making my way away, away
– Still Breathing, Green Day

---

Wednesday, January 3, 2000

General Hospital: Staff Room

Elizabeth twisted off the cap from her water bottle, took a sip, then prepared to dive into another set of medical records. She had a fifteen-minute break, and she thought if she could get through her stack of files by the end of the week, maybe Jason would, too. And then they could put it away and do something—anything—else on the weekend.

She wanted answers, too, and of course, she worried about the danger. Anna’s car accident had certainly been a sobering experience—but it had been the only sign since Jason’s arrival that there was anyone willing to kill to continue keeping secrets. And what if it had been just a car accident?

What if there was nothing more than the greedy Valentin who had murdered Nikolas to get his filthy hands on the Cassadine fortune and had used Chimera to gain some sympathy? Valentin could have known of his mother’s plans without participating or intending to continue them.  It would be nice if there was nothing else out there haunting them.

But they’d never know for sure who was involved without checking off every item on the list — which included the files. Elizabeth flipped from a brain scan to a medical report. She sat up, her heart pounding when she saw the date at the top of the page.

April 25, 1999

Patient 2 has been admitted to my care under sedation. He is a healthy, sixteen-year-old male, five feet nine inches, 132 pounds.

Her fingers tightened, and her eyes blurred. It’s not Lucky. It’s not Lucky.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Why hadn’t she thought of this—why hadn’t it occurred to her—the wave of grief swept over her, quick and keen, just as if she was still sixteen-years-old, standing in front of Marcus Taggert, assuring him over and over again it wasn’t Lucky. That it couldn’t be Lucky—

“You good?”

She looked up, saw the concerned eyes of Griffin Munro standing over her. He sat across from her. “What’s wrong?”

Elizabeth cleared her throat, swiped at an errant tear. “Ghost from a lifetime ago. Um—” She held up the medical report. “We’re reading old files from the Cassadines. Hoping to find Jason or Drew’s records so we can maybe reverse the procedure on Drew. But there’s thousands of them, and—”

She thought of the brain scan that had been attached to the report and reached for it. “This—can you tell me anything about it?” Griffin was a neurosurgeon. Not as good as Patrick, but then again, no one was.

Griffin held it up to the light, squinted. “Looks good. Healthy brain. No damage. Why?”

“No, that makes sense. Um, thanks.” It felt wrong somehow to tell him about Lucky, to tell anyone who hadn’t lived through that horrible time that Lucky was one of the patients.

Now, they knew the identities of every patient except for 1 and 4. and Lucky gave them a timeline that far exceeded what they’d been working with.

“Elizabeth?”

“I’m okay. I just—I trust you,” Elizabeth told him. “And if this were just mine, I’d tell you everything. But it’s not, you know?”

“I get it. But you know where to find me if you need anything.” He squeezed her hand, then took his coffee, and left the staff room.

Elizabeth picked up the manila folder where she’d found the scans, ran her fingers over it. These must be Lucky’s records. Had there been anything else? She picked up her cell phone.

Spinelli answered on the first ring. “Hello, Fair Elizabeth. You’ve reached the Jackal. How may I assist you?”

“Spinelli. Hey.” She paused. “You said that there were no file structures, right? Like folders. It was all just thrown together.”

“Yes. I tried to match things by the file name and the date of creation. I was quite fortunate as most of the files retained their original creation date when they were moved into the thumb drive. Did you find something?”

“The folder I took — you labeled it 2423—” Her voice trailed off. Oh, God. “99,” she finished. “Um, sorry, let me repeat that. 242399. Why did you use that label?”

“Probably because those files all had the same prefix. One moment, I shall look at my records—yes. Yes. I printed all those files, and filled three folders with those documents, and then four video files—”

“Video files.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Okay. I need you to set them aside, Spinelli. Those videos. I need you to put them separately—and that prefix. They go together. They’re all—”

“Elizabeth?” His tone changed. “Should I get Stone Cold?”

“No. No. I’m—” Elizabeth paused. “It’s not that it’s serious. Or urgent.” No, it couldn’t be. It had been almost twenty years ago. “But I know what that prefix stands for and who these files are about.”

“Can I pass a message?”

“Yeah, I guess. Um, the prefix is for Patient 2,” she said. “I found Patient 2.”

“You sound sure.”

“I am. It’s Lucky. Lucky’s Patient 2. And these are his. Those videos, don’t watch them yet. Please. Let me do that first—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Just put them in a folder or something so I can make sure Lucky finds them.”

“Of course, Elizabeth. I will tell Stone Cold and set these files aside for you to share when you’re ready. Can I—can I ask when Lucky would have been part of this? I mean, for our timeline—”

“It’s right there in the file name. The date of the fire. April 23, 1999. When Helena kidnapped him, and we thought he was dead. So whatever she was doing, whatever this is—it goes back at least that far.” And God only knew how much more than that. No wonder the Ice Princess had been part of the records.

Just what had Helena done to Lucky that made him part of these experiments? Why had she needed his brain scans? How many lives had Helena destroyed?

Jones-West Apartment: Kitchen

Maxie was unwrapping the last chocolate Popsicle in the freezer when she heard her husband’s voice drawing closer.

“You deserve so much better—” Nathan appeared, one hand holding a phone to his ear, the other scratching his head. “Nina—”

Maxie scrunched up her nose and slid the Popsicle in her mouth. Nina still wasn’t that fond of her sister-in-law, though she was a little bit less frosty once they’d announced her pregnancy.

“Yeah. Okay. Okay.” Nathan finally put the phone down, then frowned at her. “Is that a Popsicle? It’s not even eleven in the morning.”

“The baby wants what it wants.” Maxie shrugged, then leaned against the counter. “So, Nina still complaining about Valentin being gone?”

“Yeah. He’s not returning calls or when he does, he’s waiting until he knows she can’t answer.” His expression was dark. “I don’t like this. We know he’s part of all of this, but she’d never believe me if I told her.”

“Even now?” Maxie wanted to know. “I mean, she clearly suspects something is up. She’d be a great ally—”

“She thinks he’s having an affair.” Nathan yanked open the fridge, found his protein drink. “She’s never wanted to listen to me about him. He plays a good game, but he’s just using her.” He grimaced. “And if we told her what we think Valentin is guilty of, she’d just tell him. And you’d lose any leverage.”

“Yeah, I guess there’s that.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I know it bugs you that Nina won’t take your warnings seriously. And Spinelli agrees with you, for what it’s worth. He doesn’t want us to tip Nina off that we know about Turkey.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Spinelli’s right.” Nathan sighed. “My sister can’t be trusted. Not until Valentin does something truly terrible and forces her to see the truth. I just hope that day comes soon.”

ELQ: Michael’s Office

If Ned wasn’t satisfied with this proposal, then Michael didn’t know what numbers would make his cousin happy —

He glanced up at the knock on his open door, then smiled a bit quizzically when his older, half-brother stepped inside. “Dante. Hey. Did—” He frowned. “Did we have a meeting or something that I missed?”

“No. No,” Dante Falconieri said as he came into the office. “I was just in the neighborhood and your secretary said you were between meetings. I talked to my mother a while ago and she said that Tracy’s back in town, making a stink about ELQ. Figured I’d touch base. See how things were.”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Michael got to his feet. “You want anything to drink or—”

“Nah, I’m good. Things have been, uh, a little frosty, I guess since the holidays.” Dante tipped his head. “Or since all that business with your dad came up again.”

Michael grimaced, then went to get himself some water. “You’re not here to plead Sonny’s case, are you?”

“Hey. I wouldn’t do that to you, you know that. And while Dad and I have worked hard to build a relationship, I’m not blind to his flaws. If you’ve decided that you can’t live with what he did after all, then I’m not telling you different.” Dante paused. “I just feel like maybe Tracy coming home to take another stab at ELQ after all that probably didn’t help.”

“I’m not losing sleep over it, if that’s what you mean. She can give me a headache, but she doesn’t have enough pull to make anything else happen.” Michael returned to his desk. “I have the shares I inherited, my father’s shares. I have Jake’s proxy, too. So I have more than she does.”

“And the rest of the Qs are on your side, too, aren’t they?”

“Last time I checked, yeah. I can’t see Drew wanting to vote against me, or Oscar. I just met him, but he seems like a good kid.” Michael considered the question. “I haven’t really talked to Sam since any of this went down, but she and Tracy hate each other. So, yeah, I’m in good shape.”

“Strange, don’t you think?” Dante asked. “Her coming all this way to make a fuss when she doesn’t have the control to make any changes. Ma thinks you should just, you know, be on your guard.”

“No, I get that. And I appreciate the check-in. But you’ve got your hands full as it is.” Michael lifted his brows. “Or is Charlotte finally settling down?”

“You know, I think we’re gonna turn a corner eventually,” Dante said slowly. “It hasn’t been easy, and we’re still in the middle, really. Charlotte grew up with Claudette as her mother, so Lu sliding in—it’s not gonna happen overnight. I know she’s acted out a bit.”

“A bit?”

“A lot,” Dante admitted. He dragged his hand through his hair. “To be honest, Michael, it’s mostly calmed down except Charlotte’s still picking at Aiden Webber all the time.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. She’s not that friendly in general, but with Aiden, it’s like she’s dug in for the long haul.”

“I saw what she did on Thanksgiving. She’s not just going after Aiden, Dante. She takes shots at all three of Elizabeth’s kids. Aiden’s just the easiest target because they’re the same age.”

Dante grimaced. “Yeah, I don’t like how that looks. We got no choice but to deal with Valentin, and he’s supposedly behind all this crap with Jason and maybe he played a larger role in what happened to Jake last year — Lu’s trying to keep out of it, mostly, but it’s getting harder. Maybe Charlotte’s not the easiest kid to deal with, but we hate sending her back. Feels like it makes it worse.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like. I’m sorry.”

“I know they’re taking their time figuring out Valentin’s role, if he played one. But it’d be great if we could hurry it up and get him out of our lives already.”

Garage: Lobby

Anna swung the door open and made a face when she stepped inside. “You’re not planning to be open soon, are you?”

Spinelli’s head popped up from the counter, his expression relaxing when he recognized her. “Oh. No. Stone Cold’s got Valkyrie redecorating. What brings you in?” He frowned. “I wasn’t expecting you, was I?”

“No, no. I was driving past, and I thought I’d check in. I had a call from Robert, he’s working with Curtis on something in Drew’s background, but he wouldn’t say what. Drew knows, so—” Anna wrinkled her nose. “We’re planning to meet in a few days, to have Luke call in from Turkey to see how things are going.”

“We haven’t heard anything,” Spinelli muttered. “I still think someone should go—” He looked at her. “Don’t you?”

“I talked to Frisco last night, and he finally offered some field agents from the Istanbul office. I put Luke in touch with them.” She sighed. “But my assignment, such as it is, is to remain close to Jason and Drew and monitor things from here. To be here when you break into Maddox’s files.”

Spinelli flexed his fingers on the keyboard, glaring at the screen. “That’s not going well. The encryption is layers thick, and you have to do it all at once, so I’m peeling each layer back individually, then being shoved all the way back to the beginning every time I fail. I’ll get there, but it’ll take time.” He glanced at her. “Still no chance the WSB will get us in to talk to Maddox?”

“I’ve pulled the strings I have left, Spinelli. Frisco sends his regrets, but even as head of the agency, he still has politics to answer for, and those who fund the WSB very much want to sweep this under the rug. Jason and Drew are alive and returned to their lives. Why keep digging?” She shook her head. “It’s terrible, but it’s where we are. Robert and I won’t stop. I promise.”

“And neither will I,” Spinelli said. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to destroy all these lives at once. We still don’t know why or how they went about a lot of their business. And until we have those answers, we can’t know for sure it’s over.”

Aurora: Drew’s Office

Diane slid on her reading glasses and flipped through the paperwork one more time before sliding it across the desk towards Drew. “If you could put your initials on the marked pages—”

“Feels bloodless,” Drew murmured, but did as she asked, scribbling his signature and initials wherever she pointed. “I’ve seen Kim, what, once, twice since all this started?”

Diane lifted her brows. “Do you want me to stall this out? I mean, you seemed pretty clear on what you wanted a few months ago—”

“Yeah.” Drew sighed, stared at the petition. Andrew Cain. Kimberly Nero. They had a past, these two names. He’d seen the wedding photos on his one brief visit to the house. And he’d asked her for a divorce almost before all of this had settled. He hadn’t thought about her, not really. They’d had a plan, he and Sam. Divorce the spouses neither of them wanted and remarry each other.

Two months. Was that really all the time that had passed?

“Drew?”

He looked up, caught Diane’s eye. “This is fine. It’s just…when you see it in print, it’s real. I existed before Port Charles in a world that I don’t remember. With people that I left behind, unintentionally or not.”

“It’s a lot to take in, and I think you—and Jason—are doing the best you can under the circumstances.” She pressed her lips together. “Am I, uh, putting together any paperwork for a new marriage? Maybe a prenuptial agreement?”

Drew’s smile was faint. Diane would never change — she’d wanted a prenup when he’d remarried Sam, and he’d turned her down. Sam was supposed to be his forever.

“No. No marriage. I don’t—” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what’s going to happen there. I moved out. I’m at the hotel right now.” He tapped the paper. “Like I said on the phone, I just want to get everything in order. Sam and I were already getting a divorce to clear everything up, but we didn’t include the kids.”

“No, as I recall that paperwork was meant to be clean. You walked in with what you brought to the marriage.” Diane pursed her lips. “There’s also the small matter of Scout’s birth certificate. Ah, legally—”

Drew sighed. “Right. Her birth certificate says Jason Morgan—”

“Legally, she’s his daughter. And Danny is his, as we well know.  Now, Scout isn’t an issue. Jason will sign a termination petition the moment we place it in front of him, and it’ll be a quick hearing to get you on the paperwork—”

“It never stops, does it? It just keeps going.” Drew slid the completed divorce paperwork across the table. “I know Danny can’t be part of the agreement. At least not until she and Jason settle things. But I want—I need my name on Scout’s birth certificate. Can you make that a priority?”

“We should be able to get it on the calendar by the end of the month. Don’t worry about anything, Drew. I’ll take care of it.”

Morgan’s Auto: Jason’s Office

Spinelli knocked on the inside of the door. “Stone Cold?”

“Hmm—” Jason glanced up from a report about weather machines and death by freezing. “What’s up?”

“I just—Fair Elizabeth contacted me with a few follow up questions—” He pursed his lips. “She said she’d be by later to talk about it with you, but that I could relay the information myself.”

“What did she find?”

“While reading the files, she identified Patient 2.” Spinelli’s expression was sober. “Lucky Spencer. Kidnapped on April 23, 1999. I looked at the files when she hung up. He was admitted a few days later to Crichton-Clark, a lab that the WSB was running as a front for some of their research. It burned down a few years ago, but it was here in New York.”

“Lucky.” Jason leaned back, thought about what it must have been like for Elizabeth to find those records, if it had taken her back to a darker, dangerous time, or if she’d been taken all the way back to that terrible April night.

He’d never forget the way she’d crumpled at Taggert’s feet. Jason had stood there, frozen, while Sonny had caught her before she’d hit the ground. He’d known Helena had kidnapped and brainwashed Lucky, but for some reason, it had felt separate from all of this. Like another lifetime. “She’s sure?”

“Yes. And so am I. The first report is dated just after the fire here in Port Charles and describes Lucky. There are also video files.”

“Videos,” Jason repeated, a bit slowly. He wondered what they’d see. Videos of Lucky in captivity, of the procedures themselves? “Are there a lot of videos on the drive?”

“More than a few. I’ve been organizing by file prefixes. That’s how she made the connection,” Spinelli explained. “The prefix matches the date of the fire.”

Videos. Were there videos of Jason? Videos of Drew? Jake? What if they were just security videos Helena had saved? What would it be like to watch yourself being experimented on? Jason hadn’t been around for the worst of Lucky’s brainwashing, but he’d been the victim of it. “What does she want to do with them?”

“She asked me to collect everything into one folder so Lucky can find it. Fair Elizabeth wishes to tell him herself. Other than that, I don’t know.”

He’d talk to her later then, to see how to handle it. “Okay. Thanks.” He paused. “Did you— you said you looked at the files. Do you know what they did to him?”

“I just looked at the first few records to get a sense of it. But he was brought to the lab under sedation and kept him that way. Not a coma.”

“So that came later or maybe they didn’t want it for Lucky. Okay. Thanks—” Spinelli turned when he heard the front lobby door open. “I’ll go check on that.”

“Okay.”

A moment later, Monica was in the doorway, her cheeks a bit flushed. “I’m sorry to just show up here without—”

“You can always stop by,” Jason interrupted, and she smiled at him. “Now if Edward were to just show up without invitation—” He stopped. “I forgot for a minute,” he realized, and her smile turned wistful. “He was—he was still here when I—”

“He always did seem immortal. He passed just a little while later. He never knew—I think if he’d lost another grandchild or thought he had, it would have killed him then and there. He never gave up hope you’d come back to us.”

Jason nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah. I have—I have regrets. I should have made more of an effort after Alan died, but I guess I thought the old man—I never thought he’d die, to be honest.”

“Neither did the rest of us.” Monica looked around the office. “Uh, this is…nice.”

Jason decided not to tell her that her words had been almost identical to Carly’s that morning. “We’re working on it. A cleaning crew got the worst of it today, and I have someone who’s going to make it—” He gestured. “Better.”

“Oh, good, so I don’t have to pretend.” Monica cleared her throat. “I was hoping that we could—I’ve been trying to let you settle in. You and Drew,” she added. “But Michael told me about this place, and that you and Elizabeth are seeing each other again.”

“Yeah. Yeah, um—” Jason felt a bit out of sorts. He and Monica had been better when he’d gone off the pier, but he still hadn’t quite shared his life with her. But she was already in that life, wasn’t she? With Michael and Elizabeth’s children. “Yeah, I know Elizabeth would love to have you for dinner one night. Or something. The boys haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving, I think.”

“I try to keep busy around the holidays,” Monica admitted. “To keep myself from thinking about all the people who aren’t there. But I’d love to have dinner. I’ll call Elizabeth.” She hesitated. “Not that my opinion matters, but I’ve grown to be very fond of Elizabeth, you know. Having her around sometimes feels like your sister is still with us. You couldn’t do better than her, I’m sure you know that.”

“I do.”

“Good. Good. I’ll see you.”

When she was gone, Jason exhaled in a rush. He hoped it would get easier to be with Monica. To be around everyone who wasn’t Elizabeth, Spinelli, and the boys. Even with Sonny and Carly, it felt like he was walking on eggshells. Like he’d say or do the wrong thing, even if that didn’t make any sense.

He sat back at the desk and reached for another file. He wanted that terrible feeling of not belonging to go away — and it would when he knew everything that had happened to him.

Back to work.

← Chapter 44 | Chapter 46 →