I’m on the outside lookin’ through
You’re throwin’ rocks around your room
And while you’re bleeding on your back in the glass
I’ll be glad that I made it out
And sorry that it all went down like it did
– Motion Sickness, Phoebe Bridgers

---

Port Charles High: Cafeteria

Emma clutched the edges of her lunch tray with both hands and scanned the crowded room for Cameron’s burnished gold hair, but all she saw was a sea of unfamiliar faces. She and Cameron had attended a smaller middle school near their neighborhood on Lexington Avenue—Spencer had been away at boarding school, and Joss had gone to a school closer to her home on Harborview Road.

But the high school was city-wide and three times the size of the middle school. Emma hadn’t recognized anyone in her classes that morning. She really hoped Cameron or Spencer were in at least one of the afternoon classes, or this move home was going to be harder than she’d thought.

She’d settle for Trina or Joss at this point, even though she wasn’t entirely sure of herself there. Before her family had moved to Berkeley, Trina had been Emma’s best friend but now—well, now things felt awkward. Trina was dating Emma’s ex-boyfriend. Which was great, of course, and Emma wasn’t jealous at all.

Well, maybe a little, Emma thought as she took another, slower look around the room. She and Cam had always had a shorthand with one another—they could communicate with a look and a few words. A laugh or an eye roll. Emma always knew everything would be okay if she could find Cam in a crowd.

But that had to be done with. And it was. It was totally over. It had been Emma’s decision. If Cam had had his way, they’d have kept up long-distance, but it had been for the best. Cut him loose and let them figure out things on their own.

She bit her lip, unsure what to do if she couldn’t find Cameron at all. She could have sworn—

“Em!”

At the familiar voice, Emma turned and nearly wept in relief. There he was. Cameron. Her touchstone. He was waving at her from a circular table in the corner. Joss was there, laughing at something on the phone with her boyfriend, and Spencer looked all sullen, ignoring whatever Trina was showing him on her school computer.

And Cam was half out of his seat, arm extended high above his head, his smile bright, his eyes just as she remembered.

“Hey. I thought I wouldn’t be able to find you,” Emma said, approaching the table. She set her tray down in the empty space between Cameron and Oscar. “I don’t know anyone, it’s so weird—”

“Yeah, it feels like I never see any kids from Kennedy.” Cameron shrugged. “You get used to it. What classes do you have after lunch?”

“Oh—Honors Geometry with Reilly and French with, um—” Emma scanned her schedule. “Butler.”

“That’s my class,” Trina said, and Emma locked eyes with her on the side of Cam. “I was just telling Spencer—”

“They still won’t let me test out,” Spencer muttered darkly. “I’ve been taking French and Latin since I was a child.”

“So you’ll tutor us,” Trina said easily, with a roll of her eyes. “But geometry, that’s all you and Cam.”

“Cam?” Emma repeated, surprised. “Honors? Really? You almost flunked seventh grade—”

Cameron shrugged. “Not sure what happened, but glad. Can’t get into med school without math.”

“Med school?” Emma repeated. “When—I didn’t know you were interested in medicine.” They talked all the time, she thought. But she didn’t know he wanted to be a doctor. He’d never mentioned it.

“What, like you have the market cornered on being a doctor?” Joss tossed at her from across the table. Emma swung her gaze to the acerbic blonde who had never liked her much. “Anyone can do it—”

“I didn’t—of course—”

“Don’t start, Joss.” Cameron twisted off from top of his Gatorade bottle. “I didn’t think about being a doctor before, but now it’s what I want. We have to start thinking about colleges next year and I want to get a soccer scholarship somewhere.”

Soccer. Something else new. Joss and Trina sharing the same lunch table when they’d wanted to murder one another in elementary school, and the picture tucked into the id pocket of Trina’s computer case reminded Emma that things had changed a lot since she’d moved during eighth grade. The photo was Cam and Trina on the sofa at his mother’s house, smiling, his arm around her neck.

Maybe moving home wasn’t going to be as much fun as she’d thought.

Jerome Gallery: Main Floor

Ava’s heels clicked on the floor, rapidly eating up the distance between the entrance and the exhibit wall where Franco stood, studying the pieces that hadn’t sold at his showing a few months ago.

“It’s about time you showed up. You’re an hour late—”

“I lost track of time,” Franco murmured. He turned to face her, and she scowled. “What?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week. What’s wrong with you?” She took a step back. “Are you sick? Because I really don’t have time for your germs—”

“Your concern is touching.” Franco rubbed the back of his neck. “Not sleeping well. I know I owe you some pieces. I’m working on it.”

Ava pursed her lips, tipped her head. “Kiki’s been asking about you. Says you’re not returning her phone calls. I appreciate you’re heartbroken because your little nurse tossed you over, but don’t you think it’s time to stop wallowing?”

“Who says I’m wallowing?” Franco demanded, defensive. “I told you. I can’t sleep.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Some strange dreams. I’ll get you the work I owe.”

“And you’ll call Kiki so she’ll stop worrying about you and complaining to me? Move on, Franco. From what I can see, your nurse isn’t sitting around thinking about you.” Ava left, and Franco glared after her.

Why did everyone have to remind him that Elizabeth had thrown him out, turned her back, and was pretending he didn’t exist?

Well, she’d get hers eventually, Franco thought. Jason would hang around until he got bored and went back to Sam, and then Elizabeth would find out what it was like to be forgotten.

Ashford Investigations: Office

 “Don’t mind the files—” Curtis moved a pile from the chair to his desk. “I’m always in the middle of reorganizing.”

“No worries.” Robert set the file box he’d taken from the PCPD archives in the chair Curtis had cleared. “And thanks for clearing this with Jordan.”

“Yeah, she said she trusted you to keep the chain of custody intact, but she wasn’t all that worried. The case is pretty old, basically ancient history.” He winced, remembering who the commissioner at the time had been. “Well, not ancient—”

“My back and knees remind me every day I’m not as spry as I once was.” Robert removed the box lid, tucked it away. “Not a great deal of physical evidence, I’m afraid.” He held up an evidence bag with a blue dress. “Just some items we found around the house.”

“Take me through the night. From your memories and notes. All I had was the case report, but it’s not the same thing.” Curtis leaned against the desk. “Let’s start from the top. Who was Susan Moore?”

“Well, Susan Moore is how we remember her now,” Robert said, picking up a small notebook, flipping through it and smiling at his cramped handwriting. “But she was Susan Baldwin at the time. She’d married Scotty, oh,” he frowned, trying to place it. “Couldn’t be long before she died.”

Curtis leaned over to his manila folder. “I pulled public records for her. She and Scott Baldwin married the December the year before she died.”

“That tracks. She’d only lived in town a few years. Came here after Heather Webber and her mother, Alice.” Robert paused. “Heather was a different woman back then, you have to know. Manipulative and clever, but the crazy, murdering type — no. What I read about her doing a few years ago to Carly Corinthos—Just doesn’t seem like the same person.” He shook his head. “We start with Heather’s history, we’ll be here a long time. Anyway, Susan’s affair with Alan wasn’t her only brush with the Quartermaine family. She was in a relationship with Tracy’s husband, Mitch Williams, before and after the marriage.”

“Tracy?” Curtis said. He tipped his head. “She’s back in town, you know. I heard about it at Kelly’s. She retired from ELQ last year and went abroad, but she’s home.”

“Really?” Robert said, his eyes sharpening. “When did she get in town?”

“Oh, definitely within the last day or two. She wasn’t here at New Year’s. You think that’s connected?”

“Tracy shows up here right after we bring this to Monica’s attention? Yes, I think it’s worth an extra look.”

“So Susan had a thing for married men.”

“Oh, yeah. Mitch, Alan. Even Scotty was originally Heather’s boyfriend. She recommended his legal services to Susan, and, uh, well, didn’t take it well when Susan got involved with him.” Robert flipped through his notes. “Susan left town when she got pregnant. Had Jason in New York City.”

“That tracks with the birth records we found.” Curtis made a face. “Still can’t understand how the younger twin gets farmed out to Betsy Frank unless we take Heather’s original twin story for the truth. Said the twin died at birth or that Susan never knew, something like that.”

“Yeah, it’s the piece of the puzzle that doesn’t make sense since you’ve dug up evidence that Susan may have known about the boy at some point.” Robert flipped another page. “Alan filed for divorce from Monica after Jason was born, and he and Susan got back together. But then Alan withdrew the divorce and reunited with Monica. It was at that point Susan started to go after the Quartermaine money.”

“Enter Scott Baldwin.”

“He won a trust fund for Jason in the amount of a million dollars. With inflation, that’s easily double if not more today. And tucked away until his eighteenth birthday, the interest would have done him well. It was a good deal.” Robert grimaced. “Which is why there’s no way Susan knew about the second boy at that point.”

“No, she’d have taken double.” Curtis nodded. “That’s what we’ve always known. Okay, so Susan’s got a thing for men who are already taken. I can see why she’d have a few people mad enough to do murder, but there’s a blackmail attempt, too?”

“That brings us to the night of the murder. It was a Friday night,” Robert said. “Susan had arranged for Jason to be away for the night with the housekeeper—she was expecting visitors late that night. Alice Grant — Heather’s mother — witnessed a vicious argument between Susan and Scotty about money spent from Jason’s trust fund. Alice left before Scotty, so she didn’t know how it ended.”

“Okay.”

“Around 9:30, 9:45, Jackie Templeton came over. A reporter for the Herald. Dogged, relentless,” Robert remembered with a fond smile. “Never missed a detail. Susan had invited her over. Said she had a story for her. Jackie waited inside, then saw water coming through the ceiling. Went up to check and found Susan on the floor in her bedroom—”

Robert dug through the box until he found the crime scene photos. “She was dressed in a slip, water running in the tub in the adjoining bathroom. While Jackie was upstairs, Edward, Alan, and Monica arrived. They rushed up at the scream, and then we arrived on the scene.”

“The Qs were there about the blackmail, weren’t they?”

“We didn’t know that then, but yes. Susan had evidence from Crane Tolliver that his divorce from Lila hadn’t been finalized which made Lila guilty of bigamy.” Robert smiled thinly. “Would have been quite the scandal back then, though it seems quaint now. Susan and Tolliver were blackmailing the Qs. The gun found at the scene was later traced by to one kept in the Quartermaine study.”

“All roads leading to them.”

“They claimed they were there to talk about Jason and finances, but I never bought it for a moment. It was ten at night,” Robert said, “on a Friday. And Monica wouldn’t have been there. Not a chance in hell. She spent most of her time trying to pretend the kid didn’t exist.” His brow furrowed. “I’ll never forget it. Alan realized Jason wasn’t in his room and he was worried. He wanted us to look for the boy. Monica and Edward? Couldn’t be bothered. Wanted Alan to focus on what really mattered.”

“That seems cold.”

“Monica was colder than ice back then. She always treated Alan’s affair with Susan as some sort of devastating crime when she’d been the one to cheat first. In fact, AJ Quartermaine’s paternity was in doubt for some time,” Robert reported. “Monica started the cheating. Alan just continued it. I always found that hypocritical, but—” He paused. “Jackie’s presence was why I doubted Tolliver’s story about the blackmail. He claimed he killed Susan because she was going to burn the evidence of Lila’s bigamy and scuttle their plans.”

“But why invite a reporter?”

“I think she was there as a reminder to the Quartermaines what might happen if she went public with those charges. But Tolliver confessed, and he’d created an alibi for himself. A drunk with his ID was put into a jail cell,” Robert clarified. “So the evidence made sense, it’s just left unanswered questions.”

“Like why was Jackie Templeton there?”

“And when exactly did Susan change her will from descendant to descendants?” Robert looked through the box. “The rest of this is related to suspects we later ruled out. Scotty looked good for it for a while. He had motive, opportunity — we arrested him, but couldn’t make it stick. And when we found the Quartermaine gun, we took a closer look at them, but—”

“Tolliver confessed.”

“And then died in the hospital before we could push it.” Robert paused for a long moment. “Tracy Quartermaine never liked Monica. She saw Monica’s son as a competitor for a trust fund from Edward’s father, set up for the oldest grandson, which was her son Ned until AJ was born. And she’s never been wild about Quartermaine relatives showing up for a piece of the pie at ELQ. The million-dollar trust fund would have been more money that wouldn’t go to her son.”

“You think she’s the one that put Drew in the foster system?”

“I think it’s interesting to ask why she’s back after all this time.” Robert nodded. “Perhaps we should look more closely at Tracy Quartermaine.”

Pozzulo’s: Dining Room

Michael stepped into the restaurant, glanced around the few diners eating an early dinner, looking for Sonny. He found him at a back booth with a glass of wine.

“You left a message?” Michael slid into the booth. “Said it was urgent. Did something happen?”

“It’s urgent but not serious. Thanks for coming. I, uh, know I’m not your favorite person,” Sonny said, stroking his chin. “But Jason listens to you.”

“Jason?” Michael repeated. He leaned back. “What about him?”

“Sam filed for divorce last month. You know about that, right?”

“Yeah. She went nuclear on pretty much everything. I know Jason was thinking about letting her have her way on Danny, not wanting to put him through any of it, but I was hoping between me and Elizabeth, we talked him out of it. Did something happen?”

“Diane told me we got subpoenas for the business. The coffee business. Sam’s demanding half of that.”

Michael exhaled slowly, then shook his head. “Well, that’s a stupid move. But I’m sure Jason can handle it. I don’t see how this is my problem.”

“It’s—I went to see Sam today. To see if maybe I could talk her down. You know, maybe she was just mad and not thinking. Or Alexis just wasn’t thinking. I wanted to believe it was all a mistake. But Sam knows exactly what she’s doing.” Sonny pressed his lips together. “It got…heated. I didn’t mean to argue, but she just…it pisses me off, what she’s doing to Jason, and I got the feeling that maybe she’s starting to have second thoughts.”

Michael frowned. “About what? Going so nuclear, or—”

“About which brother she took home. I think maybe she’s heard Jason hooked up with Elizabeth, and that always makes her angry.” Sonny dragged a hand down his face. “And you know, maybe she’ll start thinking of ways to get him back.”

“I’m still not seeing how this involves me,” Michael said. “So what if Sam decides she made a mistake? Jason’s done with that. I’ve seen him with Elizabeth. They’re happy.”

“You’re too young to remember any of this, but I just have a bad feeling—”

“How is this any of your business or mine? You know, I’d expect this from Mom, but not you. I get it, if Sam gets access to some of the financials, it puts you and Jason in a rough spot. But that’s the risk you took. As for Sam wanting Jason back? Well, that’s Jason’s problem. Not mine. I’m staying out of his business. You and Mom should try it some time.”

Morgan’s Auto: Jason’s Office

 Elizabeth stopped in the doorway of Jason’s office, frowning slightly when her approach hadn’t seemed to be heard. His head was bent over an open manila folder and didn’t budge. She knocked lightly on the inside of the door frame, and he jerked up, blinking. “Hey. You haven’t been doing that all day, have you?”

“What?” Jason cleared his throat. “Oh, no. Monica came by earlier. And Carly.” He got to his feet and came around the desk to kiss her lightly. She sighed, trying not to show her disappointment when the embrace was brief, nothing more than the brushing of their lips. He closed the door behind her. “Spinelli told me what you found at work.”

“I didn’t get very far — I was only reading on my break.” She dropped her bag on his empty chair, stripped off her white winter jacket. “The place looks—and smells—better already. The cleaning crew came through?”

“Yeah. And the bathroom guys will be here this weekend.” Jason went back to his desk, his fingers trailing over the records he’d been reading. “Spinelli—”

“How did it go with Carly?” Elizabeth asked, not wanting to talk about the files yet. It would take over their entire evening, just like it had yesterday. And she already knew from Spinelli Jason hadn’t spent much time out of the office today. She just wanted a little bit more normal.

“Oh.” He frowned. “Okay. She was happy, just like you said. Especially when I told her it was an unlimited budget. She was good. And Monica. She said she wanted to do dinner or something. With me. And you. The boys, too. All of us, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s good. I hope she’s reaching out to Drew. She backed off a lot last month, I guess. After everything with AJ, and the way Michael was taking it. I don’t know. I noticed she was a bit more distant. She’s probably thinking a lot about Alan these days.” Elizabeth grimaced, suddenly remembering the conversation with Drew before the holidays. She should follow up on that with him. Maybe he’d left it alone — maybe there’d been nothing to find. “I’ll call her and set it up.”

“Good. Good. Spinelli said you think you found Lucky’s files.”

Well, she’d delayed the conversation as much as she could. “I don’t just think.” Elizabeth retrieved a tablet from her bag and flicked her fingers across the surface. “He sent me the link to the secure folder he set up with the videos. I watched the first one.” Her throat was tight. “It’s security footage, Jason. Of Lucky in captivity. The day we—” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. How could the pain still feel so clear after all this time? “The day of the memorial service.”

Jason took the tablet and pressed the play button on the screen. The room was sparse, with a twin bed. Some metal shelving. And a boy on his knees at the door. There was a scraping sound.

Then the boy got to his feet and started banging on the door, screaming. “Come on! Show your face, you coward! Why are you keeping me here? Why are you keeping me here?”

 Lucky’s voice. Lucky trying to escape. Jason set the tablet down. “Why would Helena keep that?”

“Why would she go to the trouble of giving me a fever so high that I was delirious and bringing me all the way to Spoon Island?” Elizabeth’s eyes burned. “To let me hold Jake, to let me see him, and hear his voice. And then to make sure no one would ever believe me. Why would Helena do this? To taunt Laura. To torture Luke. Because she could.”

He sat down, staring at the still image of Lucky Spencer, forever sixteen, banging on a door, screaming to be let out. “Do you think the rest of them are like this?”

“I don’t know. I just…” Elizabeth brushed at a tear. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of Lucky being one of the patients. Maybe because Victor wasn’t involved with him. At least that we knew of. But Faison was. He was in charge of the brainwashing, or at least that’s what we thought at the time. He was brought to a lab here in New York. Just like Jake and you. And Drew. Helena kept you all close enough—” She turned away, dug the heels of her palm into her eyes.

Jason set down the tablet, came to her, and drew her into his arms. “Spinelli told me. It wasn’t far from here.”

She gripped his shoulders tightly, then pulled back. “To think of our little boy so close. To know that Lucky was a few hours away while Laura nearly killed herself from the grief, Nikolas spiraled out of control with Katherine Bell, and well, you know what I was dealing with—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I need to be the one to talk to Lucky about this. Or maybe it needs to be Laura, but Lucky’s sensitive about that time period—” She saw the grimace cross his face. “Jason.”

“No, I get it—”

“This isn’t like—” She sighed, watched him go back to the desk. “It’s not like before, all right? It isn’t. This isn’t that terrible blind faith I had in him. Or the guilt that kept me feeling trapped when we were married. This is about that boy, screaming to be let out. And the girl who was saying goodbye in a church the same day.” She took a deep breath. “For the boy who never came home. And all the people around him who never let him forget that.”

Jason hesitated, then looked at her. “He’s clear, though. From the brainwashing — that was over, wasn’t it? You were sure of it when it happened the last time?”

“Yes. As far as we know — and there’s never been any evidence since that last time. Since Stavros and Endgame.” Elizabeth took the tablet back, put it in her back. “We’ll know for certain when we go through the files, but I think Helena’s plans for Lucky were scuttled because the brainwashing wasn’t strong enough. She turned her attention to other methods. To the trigger she put in Jake’s head. And the memory experiments on you and Drew. And whatever she did to Patient 4, who we still don’t know anything about.”

She considered her next words carefully. “I understand that Lucky is a difficult subject between us. I hurt you every time I chose him.” She met his gaze. “But this—Lucky is where I started in all of this. If Helena targeted you—and Drew—and Jake—because of me, it starts with this. With Lucky and Endgame. She hated me so much that she wanted me dead, and even that wouldn’t have been good enough for her. She thought I was dead, Jason, when she brainwashed Lucky into forgetting me. That’s how much she wanted to erase me. So when I say that I want to be the one to handle this part of it, it’s because of the history I shared with Lucky, but it’s also because —” She paused. “If I had gone away with you when you wanted me to, I wouldn’t have been there. And maybe Helena wouldn’t have hurt him again. I feel responsible for part of it. She made it about me.”

Jason nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay, you’re not going to argue because you won’t win or because you understand?” she asked skeptically.

“Okay, I understand why you think this is how it has to be,” Jason told her. “I know what it’s like to blame yourself when you shouldn’t. I blamed myself when Michael was shot. I knew, logically, that wasn’t my fault. And Danny being kidnapped the day he was born — I blamed myself for that. You tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault. But it felt like it was. It still does. I don’t know how to make that go away.” He pressed his lips together. “If you think that talking to Lucky about the Patient 2 files and handling that part of it—if you think that will make part of it go away for you, then I want that.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth nodded, a bit shaky. She went to him at the desk. “Okay. It’s not about protecting Lucky. Not like that. He’s not a factor for me anymore. You trust that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I trust that. I trust you.” Jason took her hand, kissed the tips of her fingers. “I just hate that you still blame yourself for anything that happened with him after the fire.”

“I don’t know how to let go of it. How to wish I’d been smarter, faster, more clever, I guess. To spare not just Lucky — but myself. To spare Lucas Jones who was poisoned, or Tony who was blackmailed into helping Helena revive Stavros so that she’d save Lucas. And for poor Chloe, who Stavros murdered. We thought we broke the brainwashing and we just let it go for all those months.” She sighed. “We thought it was over, Jason. And went on with your lives. I’m tired of being wrong. I’m tired of thinking we’ve beat Helena back, only to find more evidence of her evil.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “And I’m terrified we’re going to find a video of that night in the lab, holding my little boy, and watching her take him away all over again. She was going to break him and use him and hurt him just like she did Lucky. That sweet boy who saved my life. I could never, ever, save him. No matter how much I tried. I don’t want that for you and for Drew, and for Jake. I want it to be over.”

“It will be over.” He put an arm around her shoulders, kissed the top of his head. “We’ll make it over. Let’s go home and see Jake. You’ll feel better when you can hold him and remember that he did come home.”

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

---

NEXT WEEK

Britt’s throat was tight as Lucky related these facts, his tone even and devoid of emotion. “You were Patient 2.”

“Yes.”

“And Helena used you like a weapon.”

“Yes.” He looked at her. “Go to the bottom of the report, Britt. Look at the initials.”

“I don’t have to,” she said softly. “I knew it as soon as I saw the notes. No one calls him Cesar. No one except my mother. She was your doctor.” She sighed.

“Yes.” He took a bracing breath. “Liesl Obrecht worked on my case and recommended Cesar Faison to brainwash me.”

—

“Monica, you don’t—”

“No, you have to understand that I look back at that woman, that version of myself, and it horrifies me. Jason was a child, just a baby really. And maybe if I had been more accepting,” she said slowly, “Edward might not have fought so hard against the trust fund that was set up. And maybe Susan wouldn’t have hidden you away, if that’s what she did. I’ll never understand why she did that—if you’re right, and she knew. I never—I don’t understand it, Drew. But if I had been a better person, you would have been ours.” She met his gaze. “You must believe that if we could have brought you home, we would have. It would have been the delight of Alan’s life to have another child.”

—

Frisco was quiet for a long moment. “I understand your frustration. I do. And I don’t like this stain any more than you do. We’ve given our time, our energy, our lives to this agency. I gave up my family. My girls. I can never get any of that back, Anna. But even if I could get you in to see Andre, he’d never tell you more than he already has. There’s no reason for him to.”

“Well, then I will find a reason to make him, Frisco, and when I do, you will let me in to see him. I won’t be taking no for an answer.”

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