All day starin’ at the ceilin’ makin’
Friends with shadows on my wall
All night hearing voices tellin’ me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for somethin’
Hold on, feelin’ like I’m headed for a breakdown
And I don’t know why
– Unwell, Matchbox Twenty

---

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Zacchara Estate: Study

“So you agree that you don’t get any percentage of the trust fund once you divorce,” Trevor said, scrawling some notes on a legal pad.

Nadine glanced at the doorway where Claudia was lurking, her glass of wine in her hand refilled. The other woman toasted her, and Nadine focused her attention back on the lawyer.

“No. No, I don’t want any of it.”

“And it won’t count as income earned during the marriage—”

“Dad, you can’t just make her sign away everything,” Ric admonished, taking a seat across from his father, next to Nadine. “It’s unfair—”

“Why? She said it’s not about the money—”

“They should split everything earned during the marriage down the middle. That’s just fair.” Ric looked at her. “Including his trust fund which he receives monthly.”

“He does?” Nadine said blankly. That explained a few things.

Ric nodded, but his attention was focused on his father, and the two continued to bicker with Ric almost sounding like Nadine’s attorney.

Exhausted by it, Nadine pushed away from the table. “Listen, I told you I’d sign whatever you want that says I keep what’s mine and Johnny keeps what’s his. You two can argue about it and put whatever you decide into a document. I’ll sign it. Other than that, I really don’t know what else we have to talk about.”

She slid past Claudia in the entry way and tried to remember which way the living room was because it led to the stairs in the foyer.

Instead, Claudia gripped her arm and spun her back. “All John told me on the phone was that he’d taken you to Vegas and married you.” Claudia released it and Nadine stumbled. “You tell me right now what you’re up to with my brother.”

“Exactly what he told you. And you don’t scare me. Not—” Nadine swallowed when Claudia lifted one slim dark brow. “Not even a little.”

“I scare everyone, Little Miss Sunshine. You’re a witness, aren’t you? John shot Sonny, and he married you to keep your mouth shut. That’s what I thought until you went in that room and turned down all the money. So how exactly is he keeping you from going to the PCPD? Because I remember how self-righteous and justice-minded you really are. You think I’m going to trust you with my brother’s freedom?”

“Johnny and I have an understanding that works for us.” Nadine lifted her chin, even though her heart was pounding. Johnny hadn’t been kidding about his family. “If you have questions about our relationship, then you take it up with him.”

“Oh, don’t worry, honey, I will. But if I’m not satisfied, maybe I’ll drop some hints in my father’s ears. You see…Anthony Zacchara doesn’t wait for evidence before he takes action. You remember how ruthless he can be, don’t you? Do you want to know what he was planning if John didn’t call in by noon today?”

Nadine swallowed hard. “What?”

“Oh, yeah, Daddy had a deadline.” Claudia smirked. “And if John had missed it, well, let’s just say there are a few people in Port Charles who would have had a very bad day.”

Nadine stepped back. “If you expect me to be scared and tell Johnny you threatened me, you’re going to be disappointed.” She wished her voice was steadier, but she forged on anyway. “Whatever you or your lawyers or your father think of me, I don’t care. I only care what Johnny thinks.”

“Uh, huh. Sure. You tell yourself that.” Claudia scrutinized her for another moment, then tipped her head towards the door. “The stairwell is that way. John’s room is on the second floor, third room on the left.”

General Hospital: ICU

Carly scribbled a signature across another form, then slid the clipboard across the desk to Epiphany. “Is there anything else?”

“Not for the moment.” Epiphany hesitated. “Did you have any more questions for Dr. Drake? He was looking for you after the surgery earlier.”

“I went to the hotel for a meeting.” Carly picked through her purse, trying to find her phone. “And I assumed if there was a change, he’d call.” She flicked her gaze to Epiphany briefly. “And he didn’t.”

“No. No, no change. All the same—”

“I appreciate it, Epiphany, but this isn’t—it’s not going to be April.” She finally located her phone, saw the missed call from her mother. She looped the strap over her shoulder. “I’m not calling in doctors from around the world hoping for a miracle. Patrick was right about…about that. He’s right about this.”

She turned around, intending to head for the elevators, but ran directly into Scott. “Oh, hell. What do you want? I thought you were out of town.”

The special prosecutor lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I come in peace, Carly. I came home earlier, and I wanted to get caught up on where the investigation was at. Mac doesn’t seem to have much in the way of suspects.”

Carly pressed her lips together. “Not that he’s told me, no.”

Scott glanced around. “Where’s Morgan? Visiting the patient?”

“At home with his family, I hope. Other than that, I don’t know. There’s nothing to tell you, Scott. Nothing that you don’t already know. Someone shot Sonny on the pier, and he’s laying unresponsive in a coma, with no signs of waking up.” She walked towards the bank of elevators, and Scott hurried after her.

“Life support, I saw. You’re leaving the machines on?” Scott asked.

“It’s not that kind of—don’t play stupid, Scott. You read the file. Mac had to have read Patrick’s report.” Carly tightened her hand around the strap of her purse. “He can breathe, and his heart is beating. But he might never wake up. We really won’t know for a few more weeks. I don’t know what he was doing on the pier. I don’t know anything, and I really just want to go home.”

“I get that, but I’d think after everything you’ve gone through, you’d be a little more interested in answers—did you know Johnny Zacchara hopped a flight to Vegas just a few hours after the shooting?” Scott demanded. “You’re okay with letting him get away with another murder—”

“Sonny isn’t dead!” Carly snapped. “And Johnny didn’t kill Logan, Scott! You damn well know it since you browbeat my little cousin into a mental breakdown! Do you have any shame for what you’ve done? Sonny did something awful to your daughter a lifetime ago, and I am sorry for that, but it doesn’t give you the right—”

“Sonny’s a criminal, I have every right to go after him, and after what happened to Michael, to your own son, I don’t know why you can’t see that whole way of life is nothing but death waiting to happen, but maybe you don’t care about any of that as long as you have that fat bank account and big house—”

Carly inhaled sharply, took a step forward, and might have actually slapped the special prosecutor, but a hand snagged her wrist as it rose in the air.

“That won’t solve anything,” Jax said, stepping between them. “As much as he might deserve it.” He flicked his eyes back to the scowling attorney. “Scott, haven’t you browbeaten enough women this year? Are you trying for a record?”

“One day, Carly, one day, you’ll see what I do! I just hope it’s not before you lose someone else,” Scott threatened. He stalked in the opposite direction, but Carly didn’t exhale an easy breath until he’d turned a corner and had disappeared from sight.

“Are you all right?” Jax asked, and she looked at him, then down at the hand he still held.

“People keep asking that question,” Carly said. “But no one ever really wants the answer, do they?” She lifted her eyes to his, tears blurring her view. “It’s like how are you? No one wants to know that. They just want confirmation that they don’t need to worry about you. That you’re not going to do something stupid. So, yeah, Jax, I’m just fine. You can go—”

“Carly—”

“No. No,” she insisted, tugging her hand from his. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to step in like a savior and ask me some bullshit question because you don’t care about the answer. You don’t. Where have you been for the last few days? With Kate, making sure that Sonny couldn’t see her.”

Jax looked away, his hands in his pockets. “I thought—”

“You tell yourself it was to protect her, and sure, maybe part of you means that. But you did it because you could. Because you wanted to stick it to Sonny. Well, congratulations, Jax. It worked. Sonny couldn’t see Kate, couldn’t get an update on her condition, and he spiraled out of control—”

“You’re blaming me—”

“Why not?” Carly demanded. “You blame me for what happened in the church, what happened in that warehouse—” Her voice faltered, and she had to take a deep breath. “And you’re right. All of that is my fault. Losing Michael that way—”

“No—”

“It is. Don’t you think I know it? Don’t you think I know I could have left Michael with AJ as his father, and he’d be with me right now? Alive and perfect and amazing—but I had to have complete control, I couldn’t give an inch and now I’ve lost everything!” She jabbed the button for the elevator. “So, yes, my choices put Michael in that warehouse. And yours put Sonny on that pier.”

The doors opened and she stepped inside the car, pressed the button for the lobby. “I hope you’re happy. You finally won. You’re the last man standing.”

Zacchara Estate: Johnny’s Bedroom

“I am so glad we’re not going to live here.”

Johnny glanced up from his suitcase, an unfolded shirt in his hand. Nadine had closed the door behind her, leaning up against it like she’d run a marathon. It had been a calculated risk leaving her to deal with his family and the lawyers alone, but he’d wanted to see what they’d do if he wasn’t in the room.

It looked like he had his answer. “What did they do?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” She forced a smile. “Can I help you pack? It’s a long drive back to Port Charles.”

“Nadine.”

She folded her arms, looked away. “Did you know about the deadline?”

“What?” Johnny squinted. “What deadline?”

“Your sister is making it sound like your father was going to burn down the city if you didn’t check in. She sounded very sure of it. I just wanted to know—”

“I didn’t check my messages until this morning,” Johnny interrupted. “So, yeah, by that point, I knew I had a deadline. I called her right after. Do you think I would have waited that long if I’d known?”

Nadine hesitated. “No, but—”

“And that deadline it wasn’t for me.” Johnny pressed his lips together. “It was for Jason to produce proof of life. Because if my father had been in Jason’s position yesterday, neither of us would have made it out of the penthouse alive.”

“Oh.” She sat on the bed. “What would he have done?”

“You spent a night running from him last year,” Johnny said, turning back to his dresser. “I think you have a pretty good idea. Why do you think I pushed you to do this?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.”

He closed the drawer, sat next to her. “My dad needs to see you as on my team. If he thinks you won’t say anything, that you can’t hurt me or put me in jail, he’ll leave you alone. That’s all I need him to do. And once all of this settles down, once the PCPD moves on from this, we can figure out what to do with the rest of it.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone to deal with any of them. I should have known they’d make everything worse.”

But maybe he’d had a sliver of hope that this time would be different. He didn’t know where that optimism had come from, but it was dead now.

Johnny returned back to his dresser, grabbed a few more articles of clothing, then dumped them into the suitcase. Trust Claudia to make everything worse somehow. He’d thought she’d at least give Nadine a chance—but not even his sister wasn’t on his side.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re upset with them now, and I didn’t want that.” Nadine stood. “It really wasn’t that bad. I think I just confused them, you know? They don’t know how to react to me. Like your sister. I guess she figured I wanted money to keep my mouth shut, so you promised me your trust fund or whatever, so now when I don’t want it, she doesn’t know what to think.”

“Well, that’s a common theme,” he said with a grunt. He zipped the suitcase and set it on the floor before going to Nadine. “You’ll barely have to deal with them, okay? And as long as I don’t end up in lockup, they can’t complain.” He rested his hands on her upper arms. “But I’m sorry.”

“They’re just worried about you. Even your father. I think money, violence, and threats are the only way they know how to show it. It’s their love language.” Nadine smiled weakly. “It’s weird and strange, and not what I’d want from my family, but then again mine is mostly deadbeats, actually dead, or in comas after murdering innocent patients. So there’s that. I think we’re actually even when you look at it that way.”

Johnny opened his mouth but closed it. “I never know where conversations with you are going to end up.” He leaned his forehead against hers, stroked her arms lightly. “Let’s get out of here.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do since we got here.”

Johnny only gave the piano in the conservatory a passing glance, carrying his suitcase in one hand, and keeping Nadine’s hand in the other. Anthony and Trevor were waiting in the foyer like a pair of vultures looking for one last scrap of meat to pick from their bones.

“I’ll call you when the papers are ready to be signed,” Trevor said, resting one hand on the handle to Anthony’s wheelchair.

“Yeah, whatever. You have my number.” Johnny shoved open the door, scowled one last time at his father. “Anything you want to add?”

“I wish you all the joy in the world,” Anthony drawled, and Johnny just rolled his eyes. He ushered Nadine out the door and closed it behind them.

“What do you want to do about this?” Trevor wanted to know.

“I want separate tails on both of them,” Anthony said, gripping the top of the wheels. “I want to know everything about her.”

General Hospital: Conference Room

Patrick sorted through the notes Spinelli had made, squinting at the scribbled handwriting. “How much further do you want to go back?”

The tech cracked the cap on another plastic bottle of orange soda, then twisted it off. “I’ve confirmed the glitches going back to at least July, which coincides with that software patch I told you about earlier.” Spinelli took a long gulp of the soda, then wiped his mouth. “And then, I, uh, located a list of clients that still use that machine and checked their coding. That took most of the afternoon.”

“Located and checked their coding?” Patrick grimaced. “I don’t imagine you told them what you needed it for—”

“They don’t even know anyone was in their system, I give you my word. But the Jackal knows that discretion was most important, and, well, it matters if this glitch is system wide or just confined to General Hospital, doesn’t it?”

Patrick sat down, rubbed his cheek. “It’s just us, isn’t it?”

“I regret to deliver that unwelcome news. Yes, the glitch so far appears to be unique to GH servers. I thought if I could go back in the machine’s records another six months to determine precisely when it arrived, you would have a better sense of how widespread the problems were, and we could determine how many patients might have been affected. The Jackal could begin a database of the affected medications so that you can research the patient files.”

“Yeah. Yeah, go back as far as you need to. That’s fine. How—how did this glitch work? We could never find the patterns—”

“Every seventy-fifth request for certain medications triggered the misfire. The machine would encode a different medication instead. But because the inventory was hospital wide, the requests came from all over the building,” Spinelli told him. “You were looking at patterns linked to the machines that were simply not there to see.”

“Christ. This makes my head hurt.” Patrick scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Okay. Okay. Thank you. It’s good to have some answers. Are you—look, I want to know how bad this is, but I also want to know who went after Elizabeth. Are you working on that?”

“The more I know about the code and how it operated, the easier it will be to locate the hacker’s signature,” Spinelli said. “I wish I could assure you—and Stone Cold—that the answer is as simple as finding the correct file, but alas, the Jackal can offer no such guarantee. What I can do—what I’ve already begun—is a patch to correct the glitch and build a firewall to protect the hospital from further mischief.”

“All right. Whatever else you need, let me know.” Patrick got to his feet. “Thank you for this, Spinelli. I mean that.”

“A hospital is supposed to save lives, not take them,” Spinelli said. “And well, this is personal.” He lifted his eyes to the other man. “Someone tried to take another loved one from Stone Cold. That cannot stand.”

Nadine’s Apartment: Living Room

“Um, there’s not much.” Nadine shoved the door open, and flicked on the lamp near her door, illuminating the small living space of her apartment. The living room was a rectangular space that opened in the kitchen with its meager row of cabinets and a counter that curved out to provide a border between the living and kitchen area. There were two doors on the far side of the apartment.

Nadine wasn’t ashamed of where she lived — it was clean and in a good neighborhood, but the furniture had been sourced from a flea market and most of the decor was from a thrift shop. Hardly the Zacchara Estate with its large, sweeping rooms.

Johnny set his suitcase down. “Anywhere that’s not Crimson Pointe is fine by me.”

“Yeah, I get that. Um—” Nadine went towards one of the doors, pushed it open. “Bathroom. And—” Pushing open the other. “Bedroom.” Her cheeks flushed as Johnny came to look inside — the double bed took up most of the room, with a nightstand on one side, and her dresser crammed into a corner. “I could figure out a drawer or something. There’s a closet…”

She went into the room and jerked open the closet. “I only put a few things in here, so you can have this—” She glanced at him, standing in the doorway to her bedroom. “Or maybe we could get you another dresser or something. I could figure out where to put it—”

Nadine glanced at the room again, squinting. If it wasn’t a big one, maybe—

“We’ll figure all that out later.” Johnny came in, stroked her arms, which she realized he’d started a habit of doing maybe because he knew it distracted her. “Honestly? I’m starving. You want to order a pizza?”

A pizza did not require a conversation about the bedroom or where his things would go, so absolutely, Nadine wanted to order a pizza and move far away from the bed.

“Yes. Yes. I have takeout menus in the kitchen.” She shoved past him, went into the kitchen to jerk open the drawer. Her hands were shaking slightly as she sorted through the collection, and she felt like an idiot when his larger hand closed over hers, trapping the menus on the counter. “Johnny—”

“Just because you and I slept together this morning two thousand miles away in Las Vegas does not mean I expect you to sleep with me every night,” he told her, and her chest eased slightly even as the heat in her cheeks doubled. “I can take the couch, it’s no big deal—”

“Well, it’s—” Nadine looked at her small sofa, bit her lip. “I should take it. I’m shorter than you—”

“Not by much, and it’s your apartment—”

“But you’re—” She gestured with another hand. “Um, there’s more of you, I mean. Like—in the muscular sense, oh stop looking at me like that like you’re laughing at me, but you’re turned on by it—it messes me up and now—” Nadine hissed, curled her hand in his shirt and dragged him against her. He was still laughing when she kissed him.

They did eventually order pizza, but it wasn’t until much later.

Pier 51: Warehouse

Jason stepped out onto the cargo dock, Francis and Cody flanking just behind him. On the other side of the dock stood Andrei Karpov with two of his men.

“Ah, Mister Morgan, it’s so nice of you to join us.” Andrei smiled, the curve of lips reminding Jason of a shark. “You are ready to do business. This is good.”

“No.”

Karpov closed his mouth, stared at him. “I don’t understand. You call this meeting to begin negotiations—”

“I called this meeting because you seem to have trouble with the word no,” Jason interrupted, his tone flat. Emotionless. “I’ve said it over and over again for months. You want to use my shipping lanes, my resources to move your product between Canada and New York, and the answer is no. It will never change.”

“You make a mistake in turning me away—”

“And you make one in continuing the conversation when the answer has already been given. Tell me, Karpov, what did you think would happen when you delivered Kate Howard’s shooter to Sonny?” Jason lifted his brow. “Did you think Sonny would agree to join you?”

“I merely wanted to do a favor for a man who had suffered a grievous wrong—”

“If you thought Sonny would do anything other than confront Johnny Zacchara with your information, then you’re either not that bright or it’s exactly what you wanted.” Jason smirked as Karpov scowled. “I think you’re not that bright. You thought it would force Sonny into your camp and he’d tell you everything you need to know about my organization. Well, good luck with that. And with the DEA.”

“The DE—what you talk about? What does he say?” Karpov turned to one of his men. “What DEA?”

“Oh, give it—” Jason glanced at the phone one of his men held up for him, noted the time. “Maybe ten minutes before your lawyer—Sasha, wasn’t it? Before she calls to tell you your freighter in the harbor has been raided. You’re not the only one who can call in some favors. Come to Port Charles again, Karpov, and you’ll know what it means to really make a mistake.”

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