You know I question every motive, everythin’ you say
Thought with you maybe my heart wasn’t meant to break
Can’t believe I let you in, I can’t believe I stayed
As long as I stayed, yeah
I hope one day someone will take your heart and hold it tight
Make you feel like you’re invincible deep inside
And right when you think that it’s perfect, they cross a line
And steal your shine like you did mine
– Mine, Kelly Clarkson

---

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

General Hospital: Staff Room

“Every time I see you,” Griffin said, “you’re reading again.” He dropped into a chair across from Elizabeth, popped open his soda. “What’s that about?”

“Research,” Elizabeth murmured, not looking up. “How’s things with Ava?”

“Over.” Griffin made a face. “It turns out there’s not much there but vanity and scheming. But at least I know now.” He knitted his brows together. “Research for what?”

Elizabeth bit her lip. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him about Lucky’s files, because well—they’d been Lucky’s medical records, and Griffin had never met her ex-husband. “Files we found on a thumb drive Helena Cassadine sent to Laura.” She set the report aside, then reached for the next folder. “I’m mostly skimming anything related to medical, putting things aside for Patrick and Robin.”

“Ah. For the better neurosurgeon.”

Elizabeth looked at him over the tip of her folder. “No. Saving them for the daughter of WSB agents and her husband. I haven’t needed to consult a neurosurgeon specifically. Robin worked on some of this when she was being held captive by Helena a few years ago with Drew.”

His cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I guess—well, you know, everyone talks about this Drake guy like he’s a god, and it’s hard to hold up to that, you know?”

“He’s going to be running the department, Griffin. You’ll have all the surgeries you want.” Elizabeth reached for a different one, considered the file name on the label, her fingers drifting over the numbers. “03050407.”

“What’s that?”

“A file name with Jake’s birth date.” Elizabeth looked at the rest of the folders in the stack she’d pulled out. Two more folders with the same label name, different dates. “Jake’s records from the kidnapping.” Would there be videos? God, she hoped not. She exhaled, put aside the first two, opting for the most recent files. What would she find?

“Elizabeth, you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s just—” She pressed her lips together. “I want to know what they did. If there’s anything left in his head. But I’m also a little scared,” she admitted. “Helena wanted to use my son to kill everyone she hated. It’s a miracle we’re still here.”

She opened the file, picked it up, and began to skim it. “Andre’s first visit to Greece. He talks about meeting Jake.” She closed her eyes. “I can’t—I can’t—” She shoved it aside, toward Griffin. “Can you—”

“Yeah. Sure.” Griffin picked up the paper. “Patient 3 is a healthy six-year-old who shows above average intelligence and remarkably well-adjusted considering his circumstances. Madame has ordered that Patient 3’s memories be mapped so that evidence of his time on the island may be erased, and suggestions be implanted. Would he be considered a candidate for a chip along the lines implanted into Patient 5? Or would different suggestions be useful? Madame has recommended a review of Patient 2’s records for more help.” Griffin paused. “Do you want me—”

“Yes. Yes. Um, keep going.”

“Upon meeting Patient 3, he reported that his name was Jake. He remembers little of his time before Greece, but notes that he thinks his old bedroom had trucks, cars, and motorcycles. He remembers his mother—”

Elizabeth’s head snapped back up, and Griffin continued. “His recollections are hazy, but he knows she had shiny brown hair and a nice smile. He remembers loving her and being loved by her. This is very interesting — memory storage is understudied in young children, and it would be beneficial to continue quizzing Patient 3 in this area. His only vivid memory of his mother is that she was crying, and she tried to take him home, but that someone stopped her. The nanny told the boy it was a dream, but my records indicate that Patient 3 is referring to an incident on Spoon Island in the fall of 2011.”

Elizabeth broke, a sob slipping past her lips as she covered her face.

Griffin set the paper down. “Elizabeth—hey—”

“He remembered me,” she murmured, brushing gently at the tears on her cheeks. “They told him it wasn’t real. But we saw each other. Did I tell you that, Griffin? Helena had me drugged and induced a fever, brought me to the lab, let me hold my son, and then stole him away again—because she knew no one would believe me.” She closed her eyes. “But Jake remembered me. He knew that I loved him.”

“I’m sorry. It must hurt to read these kinds of things. About what was done to your son. I know he’s back now, but—” Griffin looked at the scattering of papers. “There’s a little more. Andre talks about what he’s been asked to do — ‘Madame has ordered that Jake be given specific commands to follow a set of orders with no room for failure. Once the command sequence is triggered, there is no going back. I have told Madame this is a risky order and have requested permission to implement a failsafe. Madame has refused.”

The same concern that Faison had had during Lucky’s conditioning, Elizabeth realized. Helena still hadn’t learned her lesson. “But we stopped Jake, so he must have—”

“After my conversation with Patient 3 today,” Griffin continued, “it seems necessary to create a failsafe nonetheless. Knowing the plan is meant to target the patient’s mother, and his connection to her, it might be possible to use that. It feels right that Patient 3’s mother has the opportunity to stop Madame’s plan, though I doubt she will appreciate the irony.” Griffin frowned. “What does that mean?”

“The reason Helena hated me so much that she went after the man I loved and our son,” Elizabeth murmured. “She holds me responsible for what happened a lifetime ago. I helped break the conditioning on Lucky, and I helped Nikolas trick her into believing he was on her side.” She started to gather the papers together again. “Andre knew a lot of the history, it looks like. He knew about Chimera. He knew about Endgame.”

“And he built in a failsafe that stopped Jake. That has to count for something–”

“Jake was six years old when Andre started to experiment on him. He’d been stolen from me just before he turned four. And I didn’t get him back until he’d turned seven. That’s nearly a third of his life, Griffin. Andre came to Port Charles that same year. He knew Jake had a trigger in his head. He thought he was safe because Helena was dead. He said nothing. For years. What does that count for?”

She got to her feet, put the files back in her bag. “Thanks. I needed—I don’t know if I could have made it through without someone reading it.”

“Anytime. I mean that,” Griffin said as she went to the door that connected the staff room to the locker room where she wanted to return the files to her locker. “I’m sorry. For what you went through.”

“Not as sorry as Andre will be if I ever see him again.”

Port Charles High: Cafeteria

Joss peered closely at Trina’s lunch tray, then poked the vegetables with her plastic fork. “Are you sure that’s edible?”

“Hey, quit it—” Trina flicked her arm. “It’s fine—”

“If you say so.” Joss shrugged, then turned her attention to the boys, who had just sat down. “We need to make plans for Friday night,” she declared. “I want to go to the movies.”

Spencer dug his spoon into his yogurt. “Yeah? You that into Paddington 2? Never would have thought—” He ducked as Joss threw a piece of carrot at him. “Geez, don’t be so sensitive.”

“No, she wants to see Pitch Perfect,” Trina said, “which we already vetoed over the holidays, so—”

“There’s nothing else playing that I wanna see, and—”

“Yeah, good luck. You’re not getting me anywhere near that.” Spencer dismissed Joss’s dirty look. “Hey, Cam, do you think your mom would be cool with me tagging along today to the garage? And maybe drop me off when you’re done?”

“I thought you were banned,” Trina said, frowning. “Didn’t you cause World War 3 the last time you went?”

“Yeah, I was, but Grandma talked to me today and said I would go back and do the files under supervision. And yes, your mom can double check,” Spencer said when Cameron opened his mouth. “She said you talked to your mom who ran defense, so thanks.”

“Can’t believe it worked,” Cameron said. “Grandma seemed pretty peeved about the whole thing.” He folded his arms on the table. “But you should really thank Emma—” He nodded in the brunette’s direction where she was sitting across the table next to Trina. “I just used her words.”

“Oh.” Emma bit her lip. “Well, then I’m glad it worked. What did you say?”

“Just that part about me and Spence being different. I’m normal, and he’s a jackass—” Spencer elbowed Cameron who elbowed him back.

“Morons,” Trina said with a roll of her eyes. “What did you actually say?” she asked Emma.

“Well, I just pointed out that Spencer likes to act first and never ask questions, and Cameron’s the laidback type who cleans up after the first guy. We need both, you know?”

“Wait.” Spencer stopped trying to jab Cameron and gaped at Emma. “I’m sorry, I act first and never ask questions? And Cam cleans up after me? I’m back to being insulted.”

“Oh, don’t complain. It’s the exact same thing I said to you,” Trina reminded Spencer. “Not the same words, but the same gist, you know. You guys are different — both idiots, because, hey boys—sorry Oscar—but you have different approaches.”

“Exactly,” Emma said. “And it worked because now Spencer gets to help, and Cameron doesn’t have to listen to him complain anymore.”

“Can I just say, it’s nice how well we all know each other,” Joss said, leaning forward, and her eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief Trina didn’t trust for a minute. “I mean, Em and Cam haven’t really seen each other for two years, but she knew exactly what to say — and it was the same thing Trina knew to say to Spencer. Who she doesn’t even know that well.” She looked at Oscar. “Isn’t that nice?”

“I feel like my answer will somehow incriminate me,” Oscar said. “So I’m pleading the fifth.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what Entitled Barbie is talking about.” Trina stabbed her fork into her questionable vegetables. “It was just common sense.” It absolutely was nothing more than that. She’d known how to talk to Spencer because she knew Cameron so well, and—

She eyed Emma who seemed very interested in the slice of pizza on her lunch tray. Well, it went without saying that Emma knew Cameron better than anyone. She felt an itch between her shoulders. “You know what, I think we should go to the movies, but I wanna see something with blood.” She was suddenly feeling very violent.

GH: Cafeteria

Kristina scanned the large room, then darted around a few groups of doctors until she found Valerie sitting in the back. “Hey!” She dropped down across from her. “What’s up?”

“How’s the internship?” Valerie asked.

“Boring and mind-numbing. Why did you want to have lunch?”

Valerie reached into her bag and took a few manila folders. “Don’t be mad at me. After we talked about Sam the other day, I, um, couldn’t stop myself. I pulled a few files. ”

“Why?”

“I know she’s your sister, and I’m not trying to mess with that. But once you told me about what she did to that kid, I guess…part of me wondered what else she got away with.”

Kristina exhaled slowly. “And you found something.”

“Maybe. I started with the one you know about. The first one is the kidnapping from 2007. I already went through it, but I thought you might want to look at it.”  Valerie flipped the file open and handed a statement to Kristina. “Careful with that, I have to take it back.”

“Can you get in trouble for showing me this?”

“No. It’s public records now but I didn’t make copies.” Valerie paused. “It reads the way you remembered. Maureen was a guest on a television show Amelia was producing, Everyday Heroes. It was a limited run series. Your sister was the host.”

“I sort of remember this,” Kristina said. “It didn’t last long, and Sam said it wasn’t her thing.  Amelia’s statement said she was calling about getting Maureen to sign a release to air her segment. She heard crying in the background, thought it was odd. She and Jason went to Maureen—” She hesitated. “Weird. Amelia went right to Jason?”

“No. I think Jason was already looking into it. I don’t know the story behind all of that, but I gather Jason knew Jake’s paternity, and was probably frantic. Anyway, that’s the part of the story we knew. I was interested in Amelia Joffee. She came up with the idea for the show and sought your sister out. I thought that was strange.”

“Yeah, I guess when you think about it—”

“Amelia Joffee was the daughter of Bill Monroe. Her father was murdered by his much younger second wife, Angela.” Valerie pulled out a newspaper article, and the bottom dropped out of Kristina’s world.

Angela Monroe was Sam.

“She killed—”

“Yeah. She was put on trial for it but acquitted. Self-defense. I put in a request to get those files—” Valerie stopped. “I’m sorry. Should I stop?”

Kristina picked up the printout. “I knew—I think I always knew Sam had a rough past, and she told me she’d been a con artist. But you know, it’s different when you see it in print. It’s real. When you hear the story. She was—if she was acquitted, then—”

“Then she got every dime of her inheritance, yeah, and vanished. Angela Monroe disappears from all the records. Then pops up about six months later as Samantha McCall. Amelia Joffee tracked her down, and then seemed to just…let her go.”

“Or maybe Jason made her leave,” Kristina murmured. “I don’t know.” She set the file down. “Is there—is there more? What are those other files?”

“Angela Monroe had several known aliases. Sam’s name isn’t one of them, so that means no one in law enforcement ever connected Angela to Sam. I started at the beginning.” She set one file down — it was thin. “Sandra McIntire. She was married to Douglas McIntire, who was murdered about three months after they married. All of Douglas’s money disappeared, and so did his wife. The wife had an alibi, rock solid, so they didn’t pursue it. It’s not technically stealing,” Valerie continued when Kristina swallowed hard. “Those are newspaper articles, and the basic police report I pulled from the system.”

“Did they find out who did it?”

“They suspected a guy named Nico Dane.” Valerie set a new folder down. “He showed up here about eight months after your sister did. He’d just gotten out of jail. He plead guilty to stealing cars — he’s linked to the murder investigations and was found with Douglas’s car. Couldn’t make the case, so he went to jail. Your sister? She plead guilty and testified against him. They were apparently dating while he was leading this auto theft ring. Nico got out of jail, found Sam, and tried to kill her. Jason ended up killing Dane to save Sam. They got lucky. With Nico gone, no one could ever connect Sam to Sandra. Or to any of the other aliases that were connected.”

“There were others?”

“After Sandra McIntyre, the next alias was Susan Curtis. She married Sullivan Curtis, cleaned out his accounts, and skipped town. Sullivan, by the way? Never got a divorce and reported the money stolen. There was a warrant, but it expired, and Sullivan died about three years ago of natural causes. There’s Linda Black — she married Leland Powell. He’s still alive and probably still pretty pissed, so she’s legally still married to him. I guess. Linda skipped town with his money, too. Still married to him. And the last one is Cheryl Richards, who married Henry Archer. Same thing. Cheryl married Henry, skipped town with his money, but it ended up bankrupting him and he had to close his business, which put about ten people out of a job. Henry killed himself.”

Kristina’s stomach swirled, and she took a deep breath. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Yeah. Charges of solicitation in Texas, the suspicion that she killed her mother in a fire—her adoptive mother, though that got dropped when they decided the brother started it accidentally. She was investigated a few times for assault, suspected of stealing files from the PCPD to cover up for Jason who’d been arrested and had to be released—”

“Okay. Okay. Stop.” Kristina rubbed the side of her head.

“Krissy, I’m sorry. But you can use some of this if you want to. There’s at least two guys out there that she tricked into marrying her and stole their money who wouldn’t mind knowing where she is to get it back.”

“Oh, what, I’m supposed to threaten my sister?” Kristina asked sarcastically. “Tell her, hey, back off this crazy divorce stuff or I’ll tell—” She picked a file. “Leland Powell—I’ll tell old Leland where to find you.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you any of this, but once I started looking, I couldn’t stop.” Valerie bit her lip. “There’s no evidence she didn’t know what her boyfriend was doing—this Nico Dane guy—his name was linked to several murder investigations. Krissy, that’s what I found in an afternoon by using a few databases. If I start making calls—”

“Stop. Stop. Just—” Kristina pushed her hands through her hair, dipping her face down. “I didn’t ask you to do any of this.”

“I’m sorry.”

She rubbed her mouth. “People can change. You know Sam. You know that’s not who she is anymore.”

“I know that Sam ended up in the basement of a house that exploded — a home where she was technically trespassing—”

“That was—” Kristina bit her lip. “No. Okay, yeah. But she’s never used another name. She’s been Sam for the last fifteen years—”

“Because she came to Port Charles and within a few months, she was pregnant by your father. And she hooked up with Jason, who has been willing to bankroll her since the start. She didn’t need to change identities anymore. She’s got Jason’s money, and that faucet’s never been turned off for long.”

Kristina folded her arms, sat back. “So, what? You want me to accept that my sister is a terrible person, and maybe we should call these places to tell them about her? Maybe she shouldn’t even be a mother—”

“Kristina. You can love your sister. That’s fine. No one’s arguing that. But this divorce she’s going through? This is the first time she’s been seriously threatened with losing all the money she’s had access to since 2004.”

“She signed those divorces papers before,” Kristina charged. “She was going to take nothing from Jason—”

“That’s true,” Valerie admitted. “And that has to be considered. But that was then. And this is now. And my research says that any time your sister has felt like her security has been threatened, she’s gone nuclear. At least this time? No one’s dead.”

Not yet anyway.

General Hospital: Hallway

Elizabeth left the locker room and slung the purse over her shoulder. The one good thing about starting her day early was getting to finish in time to be home when the boys were done school. She was going to take them by the garage so that they could keep working while Jason was gone—

And she hoped he’d listen to her and call again, no matter what the time was. They’d spent so many evenings together over the last few months that it was a bit lonely to finish the day without him at the house, all of them crowded around the dinner table like a family.

She was glad she’d taken Felix’s advice and gone to see him, even though they’d had those terrible fights. Sometimes you needed to rip open old wounds so that this time, they would heal properly. They wouldn’t linger, waiting for the next explosion.

And when he came home, she’d talk to him about Jake’s files. They would read them together, sort through all the different pieces to understand what their son had been through and to figure what, if anything, was still lingering in Jake’s mind. Had Helena left any other damage? Did they have anything to worry about?

She was lost in thought, stepping on to the elevator without thinking much about it. As she went in, a few people stepped off—

And the doors had closed, and the elevator had begun to descend towards the lobby before Elizabeth realized she wasn’t alone.

Franco was there. In the corner by the control panel. His lips curved into a smile, and he stepped forward—

Instinctively, Elizabeth stepped back—and he just pressed the bright red emergency stop button. The car lurched and shuddered to a stop.

“Now that I have you to myself,” Franco said, “let’s talk.”

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