And you asked me what I want this year
And I try to make this kind and clear
Just a chance that maybe we’ll find better days
‘Cause I don’t need boxes wrapped in strings
And designer love and empty things
Just a chance that maybe we’ll find better days
– Better Days, Goo Goo Dolls

---

Thursday, December 25, 2003

Scorpio Home: Living Room

Anna pushed the sleeves of her sweater to her elbows, then placed the last piece of tape on a gift. She glared at Mac. “How did you not want to throw Capelli out the window repeatedly?”

“Eternal mystery,” Mac said with half a smile. He perched on the arm of the sofa, watching her wrap. “How is it that we’re leaving to see the girls in ten minutes, and you’re still wrapping? You used to be more organized than this.”

“Well, I used to have more time,” Anna muttered. She sat back. “I had to wrap and ship things home to Pine Valley as well,” she reminded him. “I may have returned to Port Charles, but I haven’t forgotten my friends and family there.”

“I didn’t think you would have. You talked to David lately?”

“No.” Anna hesitated. “And I don’t expect to. Clean break. Best for us all.” She got to her feet and flashed Mac a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I ought not to complain about Capelli or the job—”

“Anna, my brother might be dead, but you and I will always be family,” Mac told her. “If we pretend that you’re not running the PCPD now and that I’m not currently an unemployed pariah, then what’s the point? I screwed up. Repeatedly. Ned brought you in to clean things up.”

“I just—” Anna lifted her hands. “I understand. You didn’t have a lot to work with. I think, without Floyd, you would have done quite well—”

“Optics. Ned ran on a clean slate promise.” Mac took a deep breath. “Floyd had to go, and after that press conference, so did I. Maybe it’s easier for people to blame it on Floyd. It’s how I’ve slept at night, but at the end of the day, Anna—” He met her dark eyes. “What would you have done?”

“With the Webber case five years ago?”

“Sure. We can go with that.”

“I would have…” Anna hesitated. “A rape kit in evidence, a suspect that confessed to the victim? I would have put a separate detective on her case, aside from the kidnapping and hostage the day Baker was arrested and sent the kit to the lab.”

“And Baker would have been eliminated as a suspect,” Mac said with a nod. “Elizabeth would never have continued to believe he was guilty, no outcry at the trial, and he wouldn’t have been paroled this early on the extortion and kidnapping charges.” He exhaled slowly. “He would have gone to prison for a lot longer. We wouldn’t have made a deal.”

“And Elizabeth Webber might have been haunted for five more years about her attack,” Anna said softly. “Mac, testing that kit — it would have cleared Baker, but you would not have found Vinnie Esposito’s DNA. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the system.”

“No, I know that. And maybe I gave her closure. But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t the truth. And this summer, when Floyd refused to put out the statement, wouldn’t push for the extra funding—” Mac looked away. “I should have done more.”

“That’s the beauty of hindsight, my darling.” Anna kissed his cheek. “We can see all the ways we should have turned left instead of right. But, in the moment, you did your best. The mistake came later. You never should have falsified that lab report.”

“I know. It—I think I could live with the rest of it, except that for that report. And putting that case with solved cases. Elizabeth deserved better than that from me. From the department.”

“I’d like you to also remember that it was under your leadership that Vinnie was caught,” Anna said. She went over to the closet to pull out her jacket. “Your officers. Your Major Crimes squad. If the mistakes belong to you, Mac, then so do the victories. He’s in jail, and he won’t be seeing the light of day for many, many years.”

“Thanks, Anna.” Mac smiled at her. “You ready to go?”

“I am. Let’s go have Christmas with our family.”

Brownstone: Living Room

Christmas had exploded in the small room as a six-year-old boy plowed through the mountain of gifts under the tree like a freight train. Until he opened the gift he’d received from Lucas and Felix.

Michael stared at the controller box in his hands, then blinked at Lucas. “I already have one,” he said slowly. He looked at Jason and Elizabeth sitting on the sofa. “Uncle Jason lets me play at his house.”

“This is for our apartment,” Felix told him with a grin. “You’re always asking Lucas to play games with us, but I don’t play, and he only has the one controller.”

“I—” Michael’s smile broadened. “I can keep it at your apartment? I can come over and play games?”

“Any time I’m home, runt,” Lucas said, ruffling Michael’s hair. “But, uh, I think your other uncle has something for you that goes with it.”

Michael twisted on the floor and crawled over towards Jason with a huge grin. “Yeah? What do I get?”

Jason reached for a large box under the tree and slid it towards his nephew, before sitting next to Elizabeth again, taking her hand in his. Michael started ripping into the paper. “You can still keep your system at my place,” Jason told him as Michael’s eyes grew large at the brand-new Playstation 2. “But you should have one here. Where you live.” He met Carly’s sad eyes as they both took in that statement.

Michael lived here, at the Brownstone, and Carly didn’t think that was going to change.

“Oh, my God—Grammy, Grammy—” Michael was bouncing up and hugging her. “Grammy! I can play here in the living room! And you can watch me!”

“How fun for me,” Bobbie remarked with a grin before glaring at Jason. Elizabeth snickered. “Just you wait until your kid is old enough for me to spoil.”

“Oh—” Elizabeth put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I can’t wait. This is going to be so much fun. And next year, Morgan will be old enough to open gifts.” She bounced slightly, her grin as big as Michael’s.

“We’re going to need a bigger living room,” Lucas told Carly, who laughed.

Lucas and Felix helped Michael hook up his brand new game system while Carly and Elizabeth bickered about who would get to put Morgan down for his nap.

Jason followed Bobbie to the kitchen, carrying a black trash bag full of wrapping paper. “Thanks,” she said. “Jason—” Bobbie put a hand on his arm before he went back to the living room. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

Jason frowned at her, shaking his head slightly. “What other day? Bobbie—”

“When I went to see Sonny — I shouldn’t have taken the elevator key,” Bobbie admitted. She folded her arms, leaning against the fridge. “But I needed to—I needed to see him away from Carly. And you showed up, and I was so angry—I’m sorry. I know you’re doing your best.”

“You weren’t wrong.” Jason glanced through the double doors that connected the living room to the kitchen and dining area. “Sonny did think I’d forgiven him. I haven’t. And I told Elizabeth that she didn’t have to either.”

“Oh.” Bobbie exhaled. “I thought—”

“It happened so fast—I didn’t even—” Jason stopped, tried to find the right words. “I didn’t have more than a second to process that he’d pushed her before I heard Carly screaming—” He met Bobbie’s eyes. “It was just like that day, Bobbie. In that SUV, trying to get back to the house, hearing something wrong with Elizabeth—she pressed that button—and I could hear Carly screaming—”

Bobbie closed her eyes. “God. That day.”

“Everything else—it just disappeared. And Elizabeth said it was like that for her. She was running—Bobbie, she got there before me, and she’s pregnant—”

Bobbie pressed a fist against her heart. “What are we going to do?” she murmured. “He won’t get help.”

“No.”

“We can’t go on like this. Carly and the boys—they deserve so much more than this. You—you’re starting a family with Elizabeth.” She cleared her throat. “What are we going to do?” she repeated.

“Try to get through it,” Jason said after a moment. “What I always do. He’ll hit bottom, we’ll dig our way out, and maybe things will be quiet for a while.”

“And that’s enough for you?” Bobbie demanded. “Jason—”

“It’s not. But tell me what else am I supposed to do if he refuses to get help?” Jason asked. He raised his brows. “Carly’s out of the situation. I gave Elizabeth’s guards instructions not to let Sonny in when she’s alone. We could move, I guess, but I don’t know if that would make it worse.” He shook his head. “Bobbie, I know you want me to do more, but I don’t know what else can be done.”

“What I want—” Bobbie focused on the tile on the floor, closed her eyes, then took a deep breath before meeting his gaze again. “What I want is for you to fix it,” she admitted. “And that’s not a fair thing to ask of you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jason put an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s just go back and enjoy Christmas, okay?”

“Okay.” Bobbie smiled at him. “I heard a rumor you’re having dinner with the Quartermaines.” When Jason winced, she laughed. “You really are a pushover, Jase. Elizabeth has you wrapped around her little finger.”

“Yeah.” Jason leaned against the door frame separating the two rooms, watched Elizabeth marvel over Michael’s new game. “Carly said you’re going to Luke’s.”

“Yeah, Lulu is supposed to be making dessert,” Bobbie said dryly, “so if you get a breaking news bulletin about Royal Street burning down, you’ll know why.”

Bensonhurst, New York

Falconieri Home: Front Porch

These were the streets of Dante’s childhood, the blocks he’d ruled over as a kid, leading a gang of other kids who thought they were the kings of the world.

He’d always half expected to come home one day, buy a house a few doors down from his grandparents, marry a nice girl from the neighborhood, and raise a couple of kids.

That was probably never going to happen now.

Uncle Frankie had made sure everyone was on their best behavior—other than the dark looks that his aunt gave Dante and his mother when they arrived the night before — but there was a tension in the air. People were polite to his mother, but no one really spoke to him.

He’d come to keep his mother company, but maybe they would have been nicer and warmer to Olivia if Dante had remained behind in Port Charles. Lulu had been wrong — Dante only made things worse by being here.

The door creaked open behind him, and Dante turned, closing his eyes briefly as Marta Falconieri stepped out, her face nearly invisible in the shadows. He said nothing to her — the last time he’d called her grandmother, she’d slapped him.

The slap that had been caught on camera by a local news station and broadcast everywhere. If Dante ever forgot what it had felt like to be hated by a woman he’d worshipped all his life—well, he had a video to bring it back.

“I was surprised you came.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Dante said, slowly. He stepped to the side as Marta came to stand by him. “But I didn’t want Ma to come alone.”

“Very loyal of you.” She turned, one side of her face lit by the moonlight. “If only you could have shown that loyalty to all of your family.”

Dante exhaled slowly. “He didn’t deserve any loyalty,” he said in a quiet voice. “Ma said you believed in his guilt. That you accepted it—”

“You don’t turn on family, Dante. That is the number one rule—that girl—she was enough—you humiliated me—”

“I—” Dante scowled. “I humiliated you? Vinnie raped and beat who knows how many women—including Brooke Lynn! You went to her funeral, Grandma. How can you tell me I’m the humiliation—”

“He was already going to jail—” Marta curled her hand in a fist at her side. “You turned on family,” she repeated flatly. “And you made sure the whole world knew what a monster he was. How am I supposed to hold my head up? We raised that animal—and you made sure that everyone knew—”

“I made sure everyone knew what he was so no one could forget. So that no one could ever let him get away with it,” Dante snapped. “He is the reason Brooke is dead—”

“Pills are the reason that girl is dead. She was weak and took her own—” Marta pressed her lips closed. “You will not cast more sins at his feet. He has more than enough to repent for—”

She’d never get it — never accept it—so Dante shook his head, started to walk back towards the front door—

Then stopped. He turned to look at her. “Were you telling the truth?” he asked her. “That day. When you told me who my father was?”

Marta stared at him, and for the first time, he saw a flicker of shame in her eyes. “I should have said nothing. I promised your mother I would never—”

“So, you were.” Dante nodded, then cleared his throat. “Got it.”

“Dante—”

When he paused, his hand on the door handle, Marta lifted her chin. “You won’t be welcome in my house again. Your mother can come, but not you.”

“What about Vinnie?” Dante demanded. “What if he gets out on parole in twenty-five years— you gonna welcome him back into the fold? You never liked him. He never took care of you. That was me—” He slapped a hand against his chest. “Me! And my mother! We took care of you after Poppy died. Not him. I did the job. I protected the public—”

“Your first loyalty is to family. And your grandfather would be ashamed of you—”

“No, I think he’d be ashamed of you. Don’t worry, Grandma. I won’t darken your door again. Merry Christmas.”

Quartermaine Estate: Terrace

The night was brutally cold, but Jason didn’t notice. For the second time in a month, he’d found himself at a Quartermaine gathering, and he needed a minute to himself. He’d left Elizabeth with Monica, knowing his mother would keep a close eye on her. She seemed to be doing all right, but she was tired so much these days —

“You know, I never asked—”

Jason turned as Ned stepped out onto the terrace, blowing warm air into his cupped hands. “I never asked,” Ned continued, “if you honestly can’t feel cold or if it just doesn’t affect you.”

“I can still freeze to death,” Jason muttered, his mind drifting to the time that he nearly had. That morning in the snow, four years earlier. It seemed like a lifetime ago. “I just don’t feel it.”

Ned nodded, joined him at the railing. “A year ago, I wouldn’t have pictured you here,” he said. “I was surprised when Monica said you were coming.” He tipped his head to the side. “Is it just for Elizabeth? Because she gets along with the family?”

It’d be easy to say yes — Bobbie wasn’t the only one who assumed Jason’s presence at the Quartermaines during the holidays was because of Elizabeth. “Robin got along with the family. I still never came over then.”

“True. So maybe you just don’t think we’re the evil villains anymore.” Ned shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry that we still can’t find Ric, Jason.”

Jason grimaced, then shook his head. “I’m not surprised,” he admitted. “He’s been gone more than a month, and we always figured he’d left the country.”

“I should have seen the signs a long time ago,” Ned murmured. “I was so angry after Kristina died, after Alexis nearly lost her—our—daughter,” he said, “because of Alcazar—it just felt like we were never going to dig out of it. I blamed Sonny. I wanted him to pay for what happened.”

“Ned—”

“I gave Ric money. Support. Helped him get started in town. Not a lot of people know that, but if anyone had—I never would have won the election.” He looked at Jason. “I’m sorry. For my part in creating this mess. For letting him anywhere near Elizabeth. I was so angry—I stopped thinking about her as a person. A person I knew. Who had worked for me—Chloe loved her.” He sighed. “She would have been so angry with me for letting Elizabeth near him.”

“I didn’t do a much better job,” Jason admitted. He flicked his eyes to Ned, before looking back through the double doors where Elizabeth was sitting on the sofa, smiling at Emily and Monica. “I was angry with her for not believing me.” When she refused to believe him about Ric pretending to sleep when Carly when she was drugged— “I let it go.”

And that would haunt him. If he’d tried harder — if he’d been less angry — if he’d been more honest that yeah, he’d been so jealous of her being with anyone else he could hardly see straight — would she have admitted the same?

“Do you think Ric will ever come back?”

Jason hesitated. “I want to say no,” he admitted. “But I also know that he’s got unfinished business here. I think he’s gone for now. If he’d meant to act right away, he would have. He might not come back for months, but he’s out there. And as long as he’s alive, he’s a threat to Elizabeth. He was—” he shook his head. “Obsessed with her. Obsessed with the child she lost.”

“Scott and Taggert told me that they were worried about what would happen if Ric found out she was pregnant again.” Ned rubbed his arms. “He got close enough to hurt her because of me, Jase. I share the blame. I want to make it right. So—whatever I can do.”

“Thanks.” Jason sighed. “But for now, he’s gone. And I don’t want her to think about him anymore. After next week, Esposito will be gone, too.”

“Does Elizabeth plan to make an impact statement at the sentencing?” Ned asked. “Lois is. And I think she said one of the other survivors is going to, but she hadn’t heard about Elizabeth.”

“I don’t think so,” Jason said with a shake of his head. “She testified, and that was enough.”

“More than enough. She fought hard for those girls. For my daughter. I hope she’s done fighting.”

“Me, too,” Jason murmured.

Spencer House: Kitchen

“You know, I should hire people to do this,” Nikolas muttered as he took the dish Lucky handed him and dried it. “Or buy Mom a dishwasher—”

“Oh, calm down, Your Royal Highness,” Lucky told him. “A little manual labor never hurt anyone.” He looked over at Lulu, who was scowling at the oven. “How’s dessert coming?”

“It’s fine,” Lulu retorted.

Nikolas sniffed. “Uh, does that smell fine?”

Lulu pulled open the oven door—and smoke poured out. “Son of a—”

Then a loud, obnoxious beeping sounded throughout the first floor of the Spencer house. Luke shoved open the kitchen door and raised his brows at his youngest child. “So, when you said let you do the pie this year—”

“Oh, do not start with me,” Lulu said, coughing as she waved her hand in front of her mouth. “Go turn that stupid thing off—”

Luke shrugged, turned back towards the living room. “Barbara Jean! You won the pool—”

Lucky snickered as his father’s voice faded with the closing of the door, and Nikolas went over to help his sister with her ruined pie. He switched off the oven. “What did you do?” Nikolas asked as he put on the oven mitts and took out the tray, coughing. He set the tray on the stove, and the trio stared at the nearly black crust.

“I don’t understand,” Lulu said, putting a hand on her hips. “I followed the directions. You know some people have a green thumb with plants? Can you have the opposite for cooking?”

“Well—” Lucky poked the top of the pie, and it crumbled into ashes. “Obviously.”

“Frick. Okay. Okay. I can fix this—”

“Really? Are you into witchcraft now?”

Lulu smacked Nikolas in the arm. “Shut up! No! I can go to Kelly’s. We’ve always got some pies in the fridge for later. I’ll go get that, and, uh, someone else can heat it up.” She jabbed a finger in Lucky’s direction. “Don’t let Aunt Bobbie or anyone leave. I’ll just be a few minutes—ten—at most—”

Their sister dashed out the back door, and Nikolas stared after her. “Uh, does she know she doesn’t have a jacket—”

“Or keys—”

Then Lulu ran back in, ran past them, into the living room, then repeated the route with a jacket and a purse—slamming the back door behind her, the smell of smoke lingering behind her.

“You know, it’s never boring with her.”

Quartermaine Mansion: Family Room

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose as she looked at Jason out on the terrace, talking with Ned. “He’s still out there?”

“Ned’s gonna turn into an icicle,” Lois quipped as she sat next to Elizabeth and reached for the photographs Emily had set on the table. “I know Jason can’t feel the cold—”

“But he can still freeze,” Elizabeth muttered. “So, I’ve been torn between these three,” she told Monica and Lois. “And Emily has been zero help.”

“I like them all,” Emily said with a shrug. “And thank God you decided to stop being a brat about the price. Jason told her to spend whatever she wanted to—” she started to tell Lois.

“But he did not mean thousands of dollars on one dress,” Elizabeth retorted. “It’s a dress—”

“It’s the dress,” Emily pushed. “You plan on marrying anyone else?”

“Emily—” Monica glared at her daughter before looking at Elizabeth. “She’s right, though, that Jason just wants you to be happy—”

“It’s not—” Elizabeth paused, stared down at the photo, sliding her fingers over one of the dresses. “It’s not the money. I know Jason doesn’t care. And I have my trust fund if I was really worried about it. It’s just…it’s stupid,” she muttered.

“But if Audrey were here,” Monica said softly, “she’d want to pay. Because the bride’s family pays for the wedding.”

“I know that’s just a tradition, and it’s not always true—I know that, but I guess—part of me wanted to buy something Gram could have afforded. Because she was so excited when Lucky and I were going to get married—but really supportive when I canceled the wedding. We donated the dress—”

“Let’s see what you have so far,” Lois suggested when Elizabeth stopped talking. “What style were you thinking?”

“All of them,” Emily said dryly. “Short, long, sleeveless, long sleeves—”

“This is pretty,” Monica said, pointing at a dress with short sleeves, ending at the knees. “Have you been to try any of them on?”

“We’re supposed to go after Christmas, but—” Elizabeth sighed and pulled out a fourth photograph that she’d printed from the website. “This dress went online the other day. Brand new.” A gorgeous, jeweled halter neckline with a full tulle skirt — “It’s way out of my price range, but I just—”

Elizabeth shifted, wincing as her throat tightened. Her lungs started to burn. No. Not now. Not today.

“Elizabeth?” Lois murmured, touching her arm. “Are you all right?”

“I—” Elizabeth tried to expand her lungs, but drew in a sharp gasp as her chest seized. “I can’t—”

“Emily, get your brother—Alan!” Monica shot to her feet, rounding the sofa. “The oxygen tank—”

“I’m getting it—” Alan rushed out of the room, calling for Alice or Reginald.

“Water,” Monica told Lois, who hurried to fill one of the glasses from the pitcher at the minibar. She sat down next to Elizabeth, taking her hand in hers and pressing her hand to her wrist. “Elizabeth, look at me—”

She couldn’t catch her breath—her eyes were burning, tears sliding down her cheeks—dimly Elizabeth heard Jason’s voice—felt his weight beside her—

“Monica—”

“Elizabeth, I need you to look at me—” Monica snapped, and Elizabeth turned, found Monica’s eyes. “You’re hyperventilating. You need to slow down your breathing—”

“C-Can’t—” Her brain was fuzzy, and her vision was blurring. “C-can’t—”

“Monica, here’s the oxygen.” Alan shoved the tank at his wife, then set a black doctor’s bag down. Monica handed the mask to Jason, who fit it over Elizabeth’s face.

“Should I call 911?” Emily asked, her voice small, sounding like it was coming from far away. Elizabeth just wanted to close her eyes—felt herself drifting away.

“Elizabeth, don’t you pass out on me—” Monica ordered.

“Elizabeth—” She turned towards Jason’s voice, his worried eyes. “Look at me. Breathe with me. Okay?” He exhaled slowly, then inhaled slowly. “Hold your breath. I’ll count. One, two, three—”

Slowly, with the help of the oxygen and Jason’s counting, Elizabeth was able to get her breathing under control. She felt her lungs relax, and her head started to clear. “What’s—” She looked at Monica, her voice thin and shaky. “I was just sitting here.”

“I know,” Monica said grimly. She smoothed Elizabeth’s hair from her face. “Lois, go make sure Lila and Edward didn’t hear anything. I don’t want them to worry.”

“I—” Lois hesitated. “I just—”

“Come on,” Ned murmured to his ex-wife quietly. “Let’s go check on my grandparents. Make sure they’re still with my mother and Dillon in the parlor.”

“Okay.” Lois took a deep breath. She focused on Ned’s face. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to call the hospital?” Alan asked Monica quietly. “Get a room set up?”

“Not yet,” Monica said with a shake of her head. “Let’s just—” She pressed her fingers to Elizabeth’s wrists. “Let’s just concentrate on your breathing.”

Alan walked around the sofa, put an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. Emily turned into his embrace, her own heart racing.

“Monica, why would she start having trouble like this without—without stress?” Jason asked roughly as Elizabeth slumped into his side, exhausted from the episode. “She was tired today, but fine—”

“How long did you feel short of breath?” Monica asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Alan, I need my blood pressure pump—”

Alan hurried to hand it to her, and Monica started to fit the cuff over Elizabeth’s elbow. “It was a quick progression from crisis to hyperventilation,” he noted. “Is that common?”

“It didn’t—” Elizabeth winced as the blood pressure pump expanded on her upper arm. “It didn’t used to be. It was—it was so fast. I barely realized it before I really couldn’t breathe at all—”

“Monica—”

“Jason,” Monica cut him off, “let me get this blood pressure reading and we’ll talk—”

“I’ve been resting, I promise,” Elizabeth stressed, hating how thin and weak her voice sounded to her ears. “Ever since our appointment—”

“I know, darling, I know—” Monica sighed as she looked at the reading. “All right. Still in the normal range. Still in the higher end,” she added, “but normal. I don’t think we need to take you in tonight.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. “But something is wrong.”

“Mom?” Emily said softly when Monica said nothing. “Is something wrong—”

“I still want to do the echocardiogram,” she told Jason and Elizabeth. “But I think I’ll be adding a few other tests. We’ll get to the bottom of it. You have oxygen at the penthouse?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we still have the portable. I got one for upstairs in the bedroom,” Jason said, “and we keep one in the living room.”

“Take this one with you for the car,” Monica said. “I’ll call you when the tests are set up. Try to rest and relax,” she told Elizabeth. “But if this happens again—oxygen on and go straight to the hospital. Got it?”

“Got it.” Jason frowned, looking around at the printouts on the table. “Uh, can I get some help putting her things together?”

Emily rushed forward, shoving the dress photos out of his sight. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get Dillon and Ned. Dad?” She gathered photos and printouts into her hands, folding them so Jason couldn’t see them. She left the room, followed by Alan.

“They gave us a lot for—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “For the baby,” she told Jason.

“I probably should have waited until the baby shower,” Monica admitted with a forced smile. “But I was worried I’d overdo it.”

Jason eyed the stack of gifts in the corner. “And that’s not overdoing it?”

Monica lifted her chin. “Audrey’s not here, so I’m representing the Hardy family. After all, if Steve and Audrey hadn’t sponsored that program, I wouldn’t have come to Port Charles.” She winced. “Or your father.”

“I always forget—” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “I’m so tired,” she murmured. “I wasn’t tired before—”

“Is it okay for her—” Jason paused, gathering himself. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?”

“I’m fine,” Elizabeth murmured.

“Her vitals are stable,” Monica assured him. “It’s all right. She’s exhausted and needs to rest. Call me if you need me, and I’ll come by tomorrow to check on her again.” She got to her feet. “Let me get her coat, and you can take her out to the car.”

“Jason…”

Jason sighed, then looked down, focused on her face. “Hey,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. “Rest. We’ll be home soon.”

Gatehouse: Living Room

Ned unlocked the door, then stepped inside to let Lois walk past him, her arms still tightly folded across her chest. “You heard Monica—Elizabeth is all right—”

“I just—” Lois took a deep breath. “I keep thinking about that day I went to see her, and she fell apart in her bedroom. She didn’t want to testify.”

“I know—”

“And she did it anyway. She did that so that this could be over for all of us.” Lois bit at the nail on her thumb. “She did it for Brooke. So that the tape could be admitted, and that judge—the world—could hear what a monster he was—what he did to our baby.”

“She’s in good hands with Monica,” Ned assured her. He walked over and put his hands on her shoulder. “Monica is one of the best cardiopulmonologists in the state, and Jason will do whatever it takes to take care of her.”

“I know.” She cleared her throat. “And I know she’s not—I know she’s not my daughter. I can see what you’re thinking, Ned. And maybe—maybe it’s just—” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I couldn’t protect Brooke. I couldn’t make her pain go away. I caused her pain by sending her here, by never listening to her—”

“Baby—hey—Brooke knew you and I loved her. She was coming around—she’d started to understand what we wanted for her by going to college—” Ned kissed her forehead. “But I get it. Elizabeth is only a few years older. You need somewhere to put that overprotective mama bear energy.”

“Watching her struggle to breathe—knowing she was having those issues the day she testified—I just feel responsible. Like I should have been able to stop it. To protect her. To protect Brooke. And I can’t go back. We can’t fix it. I don’t know why I have to keep learning that—”

“Because every day I wake up,” Ned said roughly, “I remember all over again that she’s gone. And for a moment, I think it’s a dream. A nightmare. But it’s not. It’s real.” He folded her into his embrace, and after a minute, she slid her arms around his waist.

“Does it ever stop?” she asked dully. “I just want it to be over.”

“I know, baby,” Ned murmured. He laid his cheek on her head, closing his eyes, rocking Lois as she continued to cry. But he didn’t think it would ever be over. If he would ever wake up without having to remind himself every day that his little girl was gone.

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

By the time Jason carried Elizabeth through their front door, she was feeling a lot better and more alert.

“Let’s sit down here for a little while—” she said as Jason turned towards the stairs. He hesitated. “Jason—I’ll wear the oxygen mask if you want. And you can take my pulse every five minutes.”

He winced, then set her down on her feet. “I know. I’m doing it again,” Jason said with a sigh. He unbuttoned her coat. “I know it drives you crazy when I hover.”

“It does,” Elizabeth admitted. She shed the coat, then handed it to him. “But I know I push myself sometimes, and that drives you crazy, so…” She went over to the tree they’d decorated the week before and found the last gift she’d kept underneath. “I can live with it if you can.”

“Sometimes?” Jason said dryly. He watched her carefully as she sat down. “Constantly.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Coming from the original reckless bad boy who won’t hear a helmet—” Elizabeth lightly rapped her knuckles against his temple. “But makes me wear one—”

“We’re not starting that again—”

“I like your face just the way it is—” Elizabeth glared at the package he’d pulled from under the sofa. “What is that? We said no Christmas presents—”

Jason gestured at what she was holding in her hand. “What’s that?”

“Listen, this—” She pursed her lips. “This isn’t a Christmas present. I just didn’t want to wait for the wedding—” She huffed as his smile broadened. “I love when you do that,” Elizabeth murmured. She leaned forward, kissed the corner of his mouth. “You should smile more.”

“I do—around you.”

“Oh—” Her cheeks flushed as she shoved the package at him. “Here. You first—”

“No—” Jason shook his head, handed her the gift. “You.”

“Why—” But curiosity won over her need to annoy and bug Jason, so Elizabeth ripped into the wrapping paper, frowning as she looked at the paperwork underneath. “This is—”

“It’s an application. For next fall at PCU,” Jason told her. “Gail said the deadlines for admission were at the end of February.” He tipped his head. “Did you change your mind?”

“No. No, I guess—I just lost track of it for a while. With the hearing and resting—” Elizabeth looked at him. “You really think I should do it—”

“If it’s what you want. I watched you on that stand a few weeks ago—” Jason set the application side, took her hands in his, then focused on her. “And I know how hard that was. I remembered you sitting upstairs, telling me you couldn’t do it.”

“I really wasn’t going to. I thought I couldn’t do it. That I couldn’t face him—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “And you would have let me do that. Let me hide. Let me run away.”

“I would have, but I knew you wouldn’t. Because, even when it would make my life easier—” Jason tucked her hair behind her ear, “you don’t run away. You don’t hide. I saw the other women—the other survivors—and they were looking to you. You gave them that, Elizabeth. And you stood up for them. For yourself. I think you can do anything. Whatever you need to make this happen,” he said, tapping the application, “I’ll get it for you.”

She leaned forward, kissed him, framing his face with her hands. “I did all of that because I knew you’d be there. I watched you, and I knew I could get through anything. I can help other people because of you. And—” Elizabeth leaned her forehead against his. “I want to do more. Help other girls like me. Other men, too.”

“Then, we’ll fill out the application and make it happen.” Jason kissed her again, spearing his hands through her hair, tilting her head back.

“Wait, wait—” Elizabeth laughed as she pulled back. “You have to open yours—” She reached over for his gift.

“Okay—” Jason stripped off the wrapping, frowning slightly at the manila envelope. He opened it, sliding out two— “Plane tickets?”

“Open-ended because with the baby and me not feeling great — we’re not going to be able to travel for a while, but I was thinking…” Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe this summer. We could take the baby. Before—” She laughed. “Before I start school.”

“Italy,” Jason murmured, looking at the itinerary. “Venice.”

“Yeah. Um, I paid for them myself,” Elizabeth told him. “Because I really—I wanted this to be—” When Jason frowned at her, she sighed. “I know you don’t care about that stuff or money, but I wanted to give you something. I know I’m not feeling so hot right now, and we’re—we’re trying hard not to be worried about these tests Monica wants, but I know we’re both going to do whatever she tells us, so our son is safe. Having a baby—with you—that’s my dream. And I know Italy was more my dream—” She wrinkled her nose. “This isn’t coming out the way I planned it—wait. We can go somewhere else—you pick—”

Jason put two fingers over her lips. “I would have stopped you sooner,” he told her, “but I like it when you ramble.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, then punched him in the shoulder. “Ugh, you’re so annoying. Do you like the tickets or not?”

“Yeah.” Jason cupped her chin, then kissed her again. “I like the tickets,” he murmured.

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