I guess it’s gonna break me down
Like fallin’ when I’m try to fly
It’s sad but sometimes
Moving on with the rest of your life
Starts with goodbye
– Starts With Goodbye, Carrie Underwood

---

Tuesday, July 22, 2003

Condo: Bedroom

Elizabeth gasped for air as she could faintly hear Jason shouting her name. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to fit the oxygen mask over her face. His hands brushed hers aside as he fitted the mask, then switched on her tank. It didn’t work. She couldn’t draw in a full breath. The pressure in her chest grew like someone was squeezing her lungs with their fist—

What had Monica said? Tears stung at her eyes as she tried to pull air in through the mask. She couldn’t remember. Spots swam in front of her eyes.

Jason had flung himself out of bed and was kneeling in front of her. He was saying something, but she couldn’t make it out—

“Look at me,” Jason said, his voice rough, panicked. “Hey. C’mon—” He swore as her breathing remained shallow and rapid. He crossed the room and dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling 911—”

“No—” she gasped. “No. Not again—” Some of the pressure finally started to ease and she was able to take a full breath for the first time.

She pressed a fist to her chest, a sob of relief escaping her lips and causing her mask to fog up. She took another full breath. Then a third.

When she felt like she had it under control, she lifted the mask from her face. “I’m okay.” But she felt exhausted, pressed her hands to her face. “I’m sorry.”

A lamp next to her bed switched on, then Jason handed her a robe that had been hanging from the back of her door. He pulled on his briefs and sat next to her. “You had an oxygen tank,” he said flatly. “Why? I thought Monica gave you the all clear at your last follow up—”

Feeling weary, Elizabeth sighed and stood. She swayed slightly but righted herself.  “I need something to drink,” she murmured. She brushed off his hands as he tried to keep her seated. “I need to move, Jason. Monica said moving would help—”

“Elizabeth—”

But he said nothing else, just followed her out of the bedroom into her small kitchen and waited as she poured herself a glass of water and sipped it, feeling the cool liquid soothe her sore throat. “I’m sorry,” she repeated as she turned to look at him. There were no lights on in the main part of the apartment, just the moonlight filtering in through the window above her sink.

Jason leaned against the opposite counter, his face hidden by the shadows. “Did Monica give you the all clear or not?” he asked.

“She did,” Elizabeth said, defensively. She tugged her robe more tightly closed, holding the two sides together with a fist at her throat. “Mostly.”

He closed his eyes, shook his head. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t—” Not really. She just… “Monica told me I was clear for clots, that wasn’t a lie. And that I could resume normal activities…except…” She bit her lip. “She said that I would probably have issues with…stamina, I guess. I couldn’t walk far or—” She took a step towards him, but he didn’t move, so she stopped awkwardly. “She said I might find myself short of breath and that I had to be careful because it might lead to a panic attack or hyperventilating. That’s all that was—”

“That’s all that was,” he repeated. He leaned over and flipped on the light switch. The bright, unnatural light was harsh on her eyes and she squinted. She saw then that Jason wasn’t irritated—

He was furious. His blue eyes had that icy, almost gray flint hue they took on when he was really mad, his shoulders were tense, the muscles in his face twitching.

“Jason—”

“You were gasping for air. You couldn’t breathe.” He shook his head and went back into the bedroom. Worried now, she followed him and watched as he started to pull on his jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me what Monica said about breathing problems?”

“Because I don’t—” She tore his shirt from his hands before he could pull it over his head. “Because I can’t keep living my life worried all the damn time, Jason. I’m going to have issues for the rest of my life because of what Ric did to me—”

“You’ve been out of the hospital for two weeks, Elizabeth.” He stabbed a finger in her direction, then pulled his hand into a fist, letting it drop to his side. “Two weeks. You almost died—”

“And I’m tired of hearing that! I know I almost died—I was there. I couldn’t walk from my damn bed to the window without—” Elizabeth threw the shirt at him. “How long are you going to use that to keep me from doing anything? You want to lock me up, too?”

As soon as the words left her lips, she wanted to call them back. “I’m sorry,” she said almost immediately but it was too late. Jason pulled on his socks and sat on the edge of the bed to tug on his boots. “I didn’t mean that, Jason—”

“You think I’m using what happened to you as a weapon?” he demanded, looking at up at her. “That I’m trying to guilt you by reminding you—” He broke off, shook his head. “I knew you were sick. I could have forced you to see Monica. To get you help. But I wanted to find Carly. And you almost died. You—”

He stopped, took a deep breath. “You’d pressed that button, then collapsed. Your heart stopped beating right in front of me. You stopped breathing. And I just—you could have told me.”

“How could I tell you what Monica said when this is what happens every time I so much as yawn?” Elizabeth demanded, planting her hands on her hips. “I get what happened was awful, but I’m alive, and I’m here—”

His boots now on, Jason stood and found his phone where he’d tossed it after his aborted attempt to call 911. “I don’t want to argue with you,” he said.

“Because I might hyperventilate?” she all but snarled as she charged after him only to for her lungs to seize again as she stumbled, grabbing the kitchen counter to keep from sprawling on the ground. “Damn it,” she gasped, pressing a fist to her chest. “Damn it!”

Jason was back at her side, lowering her to the ground gently so she was resting with her back against the cabinets. He had his phone out again, but he didn’t call 911—he could hear him saying Monica’s name—

“It’s after midnight,” she tried to say, grasping weakly at his phone.

“Yeah. Okay, thanks. They’ll buzz you up downstairs. The door will be unlocked,” Jason said, ignoring her protests. He closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. “You either let her take a look at you or I’m calling an ambulance.”

Because she was too tired to argue, she just closed her eyes and let her head fall gently back against the wooden cabinet. Jason lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa before unlocking the door.

“I can’t live my life in fear,” she said softly, almost a murmur. “I can’t. I can’t keep letting it drive. I have to be in charge of my own life. And that means I can’t let your fears run my life, either.”

He said nothing as he sat on the end of the sofa, his head bowed. “Then don’t lie to me.”

“Jason—”

“If you had told me—”

“Monica never said I couldn’t have sex,” Elizabeth muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. Everything hurt—why did everything have to feel like it was on fire?

“But she said to take it easy, didn’t she?” Jason challenged. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “You didn’t tell me about the oxygen tank. What else don’t I know?”

“I’m not allowed to have a single thought to myself?” she shot back. “Isn’t that the line you threw at me when you lied to me?” He threw her an exasperated look which only made her angrier. “I get it. You watched me die. Well, I’m the one who actually died. I’m the one who couldn’t breathe when I woke up. I’m the one that was drugged. This didn’t happen to you—”

“I watched you die,” he said slowly, his voice sounding calmer than she knew he felt. “I watched you gasp and struggle for air, and with what you thought was your dying breath, try to tell me you loved me.” He looked at her, his eyes red and damp with tears of his own. “And then tonight, I watched you gasp and struggle for air again. And I thought—I thought it was another embolism. I thought you were going to die again. In front of me. They told me in the hospital that if you’d had another one, that was it. No more miracles.”

Some of her irritation faded then. She hadn’t—of course it must have looked— “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t think of what it looked like—I mean—to you.”

“I don’t want you to live in fear, Elizabeth. To always worry about what might happen with your health, but at the same time—” he shook his head. “I’m not sure I can stop.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Monica knocked on the door, then opened it, entering with a little black bag. Jason got to his feet and closed the door behind her. “I came as soon as I could—” She raised her brows at the two of them, both with red eyes, Elizabeth half-dressed, Jason fully clothed. “Jason said you had to use the tank?”

Elizabeth hesitated, then got to her feet. Jason steadied her with his hand under her elbow. “I’m sorry to drag you over here. I didn’t—I didn’t tell Jason I might need an oxygen mask.”

“Ah.” Monica studied her son for a long moment before looking back at Elizabeth. “Why don’t we go into your room and I’ll take your vitals. We’ll see if we have any reason to be worried.”

Leaving Jason behind in the living room, Elizabeth sat on the edge of her bed as Monica took her temperature, her blood pressure, and then checked her heart. “I told you I’m fine—”

“Your blood pressure is up, but that’s probably to be expected.” Monica pursed her lips. “You didn’t tell him what I said about possibly finding yourself short of breath and needing some back up?”

“No,” Elizabeth said on a sigh. “And he found out—well, he found out the hard way. He thought I was having another embolism. I didn’t—I didn’t—I guess I was hoping it wouldn’t happen like that, but—” she shrugged. “He’s angry at me.”

“It’s hard,” Monica said as she started to repack her instruments. “I’ve always found the hardest part of being in a relationship is the sharing. Alan and I are terrible at it. Ninety percent of our problems have been trying to solve our problems on our own.” She wrinkled her nose. “The other ten percent was all the affairs.”

“I get that Jason was upset because of what happened to me—”

“He blames himself, Elizabeth. Even if it’s not true, even if it’s not fair, Jason blames himself for letting it to get to the point that you almost died.” Monica picked up the bag. “And right or wrong, he probably sees what happened tonight as also being his fault. That’s something the accident didn’t change about him. Even as a small child, Jason always took the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

She sighed. “Monica—”

“I want you to spend some time resting,” Monica said, cutting her off. “Not bed rest but taking it easy. I know your hearing is at the end of the week and the memorial service—” She pressed her lips together. “After that, we’ll talk about some ways to get you back on track, physically.” She hesitated. “Elizabeth, you’re young. You were healthy before Ric got his hands on you, but a pulmonary embolism—the cardiac arrest that followed—that’s not something you bounce back from in two or three weeks. Not completely.”

“I know. Thank you for coming over so late.”

A few minutes after Monica left, Jason returned to the bedroom and sat next to her on the bed. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I just—I wanted to be normal. To feel like my old self.” She looked at him and was relieved to see most of the anger had left his eyes. “I just wanted to be with you.”

Jason put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stormed out—”

“I never meant to put you through that again—to make you think about the embolism—”

“You need to tell me when things affect your health. I can’t—” He tipped her head up to her look at her, his hand framing her jaw. “I can’t lose you.”

“I promise. Will you stay? Just—to sleep, I mean. Monica wants me to take it easy this week, at least until the hearing.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” He brushed his lips over her forehead, but she knew this probably wouldn’t be the last time they argued about her health or safety.

General Hospital: Kevin’s Office

Carly shifted in her seat, pressed her hand to her belly where the baby had decided to perform a somersault. “Like I said,” she told Kevin, “I feel like I’ve got my issues under control.”

“You know, just because this is our last scheduled session,” Kevin told her, “it doesn’t mean we can’t meet again if you need me.” He waited a long moment. “How are things with Sonny? You haven’t mentioned him today.”

“Things are…” she bit her lip and looked away, out the window. “I guess things are okay. I don’t know if you talk to my mother—”

“I haven’t spoken to Bobbie, no. You told me that Sonny had some problems while you were gone.” Kevin leaned forward at his desk, his elbows resting on the surface. “I was just wondering how that was affecting you. You’ve been trying to get back to normal, but—”

“Sonny’s struggling,” Carly admitted. “You know what happened to his first wife, Lily. Well, this brought it all back and he had a…” she paused. “Jason said it was a breakdown. That he was hallucinating and seeing Lily. That she was blaming him for what happened that night, for what happened to me. He hasn’t hallucinated since, but…sometimes he loses track of time.”

Kevin merely lifted a brow. “Loses track how?”

“Mama said Elizabeth told her she was talking with Sonny and he seemed to think it was last year. He remembered after a minute, but it’s not the first time…” She rubbed her belly again. “Sonny’s always had some issues, but Jason and I can usually handle it. It’s just been—we’re both exhausted right now. Jason’s worrying about Elizabeth, which is fine, I guess, since she almost died, and you know, I’ve got the boys—we haven’t been able to take care of him the way we used to. But we’re going to do better.”

“Okay,” Kevin drew out slowly. “Have you thought about—has he thought about—”

“Talking to someone? Mama tried, and I thought Sonny might actually do it, but he seems to think it’ll make him weak. He’s not the type to reach out for help, Dr. Collins.” Carly wrinkled her nose when the clock next to her turned to 11:50. “Thanks. I appreciate all the help you’ve given me.”

“Carly, don’t hesitate to reach out,” he said as she stood up. “I’m always here—”

“Thanks, but I’m not the one that needs the help.”

PCPD: Archives

 Lucky grimaced as he pulled the ninth and final box from the shelves and put it on the table for Cruz and Dante to open and go through. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered as he took a seat and started to through their notes.

“We have two more cases in the park,” Cruz sighed, tossing his pencil to the table and leaning back in disgust. “Two more cases of a young brunette raped in the park near a fountain. April 1999 and January 2000. Why the hell didn’t Vinnie see this?”

Dante smiled humorlessly. “Now you get why he’s my least favorite cousin. He probably didn’t even remember these cases even though he was the responding officer—” He looked at Lucky who ignored them both and started to look back at the files again. “What’s wrong?’

“The nine cases we pulled—” Lucky started turning around the other boxes on the cold shelves, but none of them had the SA notation for sexual assault. “None of them were Elizabeth’s.”

“I thought you said they got the guy,” Cruz said as he joined Lucky in his search. “Wouldn’t her case be in the closed room?”

“They couldn’t make the case, and her rape kit came back negative for any DNA,” Lucky said as he went to the other side of the shelving unit to check those boxes. “It was ruled inactive—which is the same thing as cold. I don’t understand why it’s not here.”

“Well, it’s the PCPD,” Dante said, climbing to his feet. “What do you want to bet some idiot thought that the guy’s confession meant the case was solved? I bet it got put in closed storage by accident.”

“Maybe.” But that didn’t make sense to Lucky. He’d seen a few cases get moved into cold storage since he’d started at the department, and the investigating officers usually moved it themselves. And Taggert had been the primary at the time Elizabeth’s case was ruled inactive.

He wouldn’t have made that mistake.

Dante and Cruz both followed Lucky to the next room which was twice the size as the cold storage. The rooms were organized chronologically, so they split up to find the 1998 cases. Finally, after nearly ten minutes, Lucky located the case boxes from that period—

And sure enough, Elizabeth’s name was scrawled across the side of a file box—and then Lucky saw something truly disturbing. The lid had been labeled in dark black marker CLOSED.  Which, in PCPD parlance, meant solved. He shook his head and took the case to the table in the room. This really didn’t make sense.

Cruz took the lid as Lucky tugged it off the box, examining the notation. “I can see filing it here by mistake, but writing closed—”

“That’s not the only place it’s written,” Dante said. He lifted the top folder from the box—a thin manila folder with only a few documents. The original report and a few statements. There was a label on the front of the file proclaiming the case closed. Dante handed Lucky the investigator’s closing remarks.

“Taggert and Garcia worked this case,” Lucky murmured as he looked over the closing report. “But Mac wrote this up as closed with Baker in prison—” He shook his head. “Why—”

“So, it didn’t show up as an open case on the reports, maybe,” Cruz offered. “Maybe Taggert and Mac didn’t want—” He frowned. “Didn’t you say her rape kit came back negative?”

“Yeah—” Lucky’s mouth was dry as Cruz lifted out the plastic bag containing a red dress. He hadn’t seen that dress since the night he’d taken Elizabeth home, since she had put it back on after Bobbie took care of her, after she’d crawled out of the bushes—

“There’s no notation on it—” He reached for the folder in Dante’s hand. “Where’s the chain of evidence document—”

“The one that’s supposed to list every time it’s touched?” Dante found it and whistled. “Handed over to PCPD by Mercy Hospital, March 1998. That’s it.” He snorted. “Checked in by Vinnie, naturally. Asshole.”

“But here’s the test from the lab,” Cruz said. “They—how did they get a rape kit tested without—”

“Maybe they fucked up the chain of custody,” Dante offered. He glanced over the log Cruz handed him. “Forgot to write it—”

“Maybe,” Lucky allowed. “Let’s pack it up and take it upstairs.” He swallowed hard. He didn’t like to think of Elizabeth’s case being messed up, but…Baker was the guy. He’d confessed. “We can talk to Taggert about it tomorrow. We should get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.” Dante sighed. “Yeah, we gotta be at the service soon.”

Quartermaine: Patio

Emily sighed, watching as Reginald wheeled Lila back into the house so she could lay down before the memorial service that evening. “She blames herself for not doing more for Brooke.” She turned back to Elizabeth and offered to pour her more lemonade.

“We all do,” Elizabeth said with a weary smile. Jason had stayed the rest of the night and had attempted to talk her into staying in bed all day, but she’d reminded him that Monica had only recommended taking it easy. There was nothing easier than sitting in the garden, drinking lemonade with Emily and Lila, so he’d backed down. Reluctantly.

“What’s wrong?” Emily stirred some more sugar in her glass. “And don’t ask — I can almost always tell. Especially when I’m actually paying attention.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “I may have overstated my recovery to Jason a bit. Your mother told me I could resume normal activities but nothing too strenuous and to keep an oxygen tank for emergencies. I didn’t tell Jason that second part. Last night…” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, let’s just say I attempted a strenuous activity.”

Emily arched a brow. “Oh, really? And lemme guess, instead of the afterglow, Jason got to watch you put on an oxygen mask. Sexy. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“I wish it had been that simple—I couldn’t get the mask on right away, so what should have been a simple thing ended up with panic attack and a dose of hyperventilation. Jason thought I was having an embolism, which scared the crap out of him. He got mad at me. I got mad at him. Your mother had to come over after I had a second dose of hyperventilation while we were arguing.”

She sat back against the cushions. “It’s not like I don’t understand his reaction, especially once I realized he thought it was another PE, but is it going to be like this every time we argue? He throws it in my face I almost died—”

“To be fair, he probably only brought it up because you were literally gasping for air,” Emily reminded her. “Liz, look, I am over the moon that you and my brother are together, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy. You guys fell apart last year for very good reasons. None of that gets solved because you almost died, and he’s decided to stop wasting time.” She shrugged. “You still need to trust each other. And I’m sorry, Liz, but you don’t get to hold it against him that he doesn’t want to do anything that might end up with you back in the hospital. That’s just normal human nature. Do you want to do something that puts him at risk?”

“No, but—” Elizabeth huffed. “You’re annoying.”

“That’s why everyone loves me,” Emily said with a sunny smile. It faded as she looked through the patio doors into the family room where Ned and Edward had entered. “It feels terrible to be home to bury Brooke. I don’t know how Ned is going to be able to deal with this.”

“He’ll have his family be his side,” Elizabeth told her, reaching across to squeeze her best friend’s hand. “That helps.”

Kelly’s: Lucky’s Room

Lucky scowled as he pulled the knot on his tie tight and grimaced in the mirror. He hated wearing a suit, and he really hated wearing a suit to the funeral of young woman.

He didn’t know if Brooke had committed suicide—if she’d meant to take the overdose of pills that had killed her. A lot of his memories of Elizabeth were still vague and dim, his swirling with bits and pieces that didn’t always make sense.

But being around this case, looking over her original statement and the one he’d given Dara Jensen and Detective Garcia…so many pieces were starting to fit together like a puzzle. And he remembered Elizabeth’s face as she’d crawled out of the bushes, the way her voice had trembled as she denied what happened, refused to let him do much more than bring his aunt to her.

He remembered now that he used to wish he’d forced to go to the cops that night, that if he’d called 911 and they’d taken care of then, before she’d showered—

But knowing Brooke, seeing what she’d gone through, what he knew the other victims this year had dealt with—

He’d told Dillon Quartermaine that he’d taken his cue from Elizabeth, and Lucky was desperately grateful he’d done so. She’d made it through the darkness, and despite all the pain and loss that had come later, he was glad he’d been there for her.

He heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” Lucky called as he grimaced at his tie, undoing the knot and attempting it again. In the mirror, he saw Kelsey step in and close the door behind her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said softly. She walked forward and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her face against his back. “I thought we could drive over to the memorial together. Scott’s going with Bobbie.”

Lucky covered her hands with his own, then turned to face her. “Yeah, sure. You okay?”

“No.” Kelsey sighed, then walked away to sit on the edge of his bed. “Mac called before I left the office. You found two more case files in the archives?”

Lucky frowned. “No—I mean, yeah, but we found three.” He pulled out his desk chair and sat on it backwards, resting his elbow on the back of the chair. “Taggert was gone for the day when we got done, so I gave the report to Mac—we pulled three.” He hesitated. “Which cases did he tell you about?”

“Veronica Logan and Theresa Lopez—” Kelsey narrowed her eyes. “Three? Which one is missing—” She shook her head. “This is weird. This is the second time the number of cases have been wrong. Before Brooke was attacked, Taggert told Scott he had twelve untested rape kits. Nine in storage, three open—Watson, Norton, and Morris. But when Scott asked Mac, Mac told him there was fourteen. Brooke would have made it thirteen.”

“And now Mac only passed on two cases. You know—the third case was Elizabeth’s.”

“Elizabeth Webber?” Kelsey repeated. “Your ex? But I thought you said they got the guy—”

“He confessed, but they couldn’t make the case. Taggert told Elizabeth he was moving her case to cold storage, and a few weeks later, Mac told her that her rape kit had come back negative.” He told her about finding the case in the closed storage with no evidence that her evidence had ever been sent to the lab.

“Her dress was in the box?” She scowled. “Why isn’t it in Evidence? With everything else? Damn it—wait, why did you pull her case?”

“Because I thought—” Lucky exhaled slowly. “I was sure that Tom Baker was the guy. He confessed. I mean, who does that, right? And he didn’t deny it. Not in the studio that day. But I read over Brooke’s statement. You remember you told me that Brooke said the guy told her to keep quiet—”

“Yeah—”

“’Not a word.’ That’s what Brooke remembered.”

Kelsey stared at him for a long moment. “And you—that’s what Elizabeth’s attacker said to her, isn’t it? That’s what you’re going to tell me.”

“Some of it doesn’t fit,” Lucky admitted. “He didn’t—I mean, he raped her, but he didn’t beat her. She was able to leave the park on her own. With me. She had bruises, scratches. But she wasn’t like the others. And I don’t know about the hair. She didn’t remember a lot of details at first. But it was in the park, it was at a fountain—it was after the movies. At night. With a guy who said not a word.”

Kelsey exhaled slowly. “And for some reason, this case was put into cold storage, the evidence mishandled, and not turned over to the DA’s office with the progress report. I’m guessing Mac didn’t tell you he was only sending over two of the cases?”

“No—” Lucky shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, Kelse.”

“On the one hand, if her case was mishandled, I can see Mac not wanting it to come to light. She still has time to file suit against the city for the domestic assault last month. But…” Kelsey shook her head. “I don’t know. You said you were teenagers—”

“Valentine’s Day. 1998.”

“Valentine’s—” Kelsey got to her feet. “Okay. Okay.” She laced her fingers together as she started to pace. “Okay. I can’t accuse the commissioner of negligence. And neither can you. We’re both rookies. No one is going to take us seriously, but—” She turned. “Taggert—he’ll get your report. I’ll talk to Scott. We’ll get Elizabeth’s case re-opened. And send the kit over to the lab with the others. Honestly, Lucky—”

“We need more,” he finished. He ran his hands down her arms. “I get it. I want to handle Elizabeth’s case right. And there might not be any physical evidence to link her to the others. She didn’t even turn over the dress for a month. She showered—”

“She did what she needed to do to get through it.” Kelsey looked at him. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, Lucky. I promise. Because if she was raped by the same man five years ago, if those other two cases are linked—then this just got a lot worse. And after what happened with Brooke, I didn’t think that was possible.”

Quartermaine Estate: Foyer

 The service, held first at the Queen of Angels church, followed by a reception in the Quartermaine garden, was somber. Ned sat in the first row, with Jax and Alexis on either side of him, Dillon next to Alexis. Lois, true to her word, didn’t show.

Afterward, he’d driven back to the estate with his grandparents and had calmly accepted the condolences and sympathy from everyone who offered it. Almost no one in Port Charles had known his daughter, but that never stopped the people of the town from trying to find any way to get into the Quartermaine family’s good graces.

Felicia and her girls had offered their sympathies, but Ned had been grateful Mac had stayed home. The only people from PCPD he wanted to see were Dante Falconieri and his friends. Even Taggert had had the decency to stay away. If Floyd had tried to show up at the church, Ned—

Well, Ned wouldn’t have been responsible for his actions.

After almost an hour, Ned slipped away from everyone else and went into the foyer to take a break. He was sitting on a chair, tucked away behind the stairwell when he heard the family room door open.

“I told you, Jason, I’ll be fine. I’m just—I’m going to lay down upstairs for a little while—no—”

He rose to his feet when the door closed as Elizabeth rolled her eyes and slowly crossed the foyer. She saw him just as she stepped onto the stairs. “Oh. Ned, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you all right? I heard you tell Jason you needed to lay down—” Ned stepped towards her, a hand extended as if to offer it to her.

“I had an issue last night, but I’m fine. Monica is just after me to take it easy and avoid stressing my body out. When I get tired, I’m supposed to stop and lay down.” She sighed, pressed a fist to her chest. “With the hearing at the end of the week, I’m trying to conserve my energy. Emily offered her room—anyway, I’m sorry to bother you—”

“You’re not. I just—” He hesitated, dragged a hand through his hair, then let it rest on the back of his neck for a moment before dropping it to his side. “I haven’t talked to you since—since—” He couldn’t say it.

She nodded. “Since,” she repeated softly. “I know I said it earlier, but I’m so sorry, Ned.”

“Thank you for—” He exhaled slowly. “You said she left you a voicemail. I never—what did she say?”

“Oh…Ned—” Elizabeth shook her head. “Don’t let that in your head, you know? It—” She pressed her lips together. “She sounded upset. Her words were slurred. I think she’d already taken the pills. She said it was better when everyone didn’t know. She wished no one knew. And then the call ended.”

“One day, I might want to listen to it,” he murmured. “Maybe not. I don’t know.”

“I’ll make sure I get it saved. Ned—”

“Don’t—don’t blame yourself. I’m glad Brooke reached out to you.” His throat tightened as he looked away. “If she’d already taken the pills, it was probably already too late by the time she did. I could have done more for her. And I’ll always regret not being a better father, but at the end of the day, whatever you and I could have done for her—it doesn’t change the fact that she was—”

He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t force the word out of her lips.

“Ned—”

“So, we need to focus on that. That some animal is attacking girls, and the police let them get away with it. He took my daughter away from us, and the PCPD—Floyd—they’re responsible for what happened to her. The same way they’re responsible for what happened to you.”

“Ned—” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Revenge sounds good. Believe me, I’ve thought about it. But at the end of the day, it won’t change what happened—”

“No, but it—” He took a deep breath. “I can’t help my daughter. But I can stop it from happening again. I will stop it. My daughter is going to be the last victim. One way or another.”

Cause standing still
Isn’t easy
When the world’s moving backwards
The world’s moving backwards
So get your fill
But please believe me
That the world’s moving backwards
The world’s moving backwards
– Moving Backwards, Ben Rector

---

Monday, July 21, 2003

PCPD: Conference Room

Taggert sighed when he saw Lucky and Cruz enter the room for their morning meeting. “Falconieri not coming in?”

“He’s spending the day with his mother and Lois, helping them with arrangements.” Cruz took a seat and frowned at him. “Did you think he’d be here? I spent half the weekend trying to convince him not to quit.”

“Yeah.” Taggert looked at Lucky who had sat down quietly. “Yeah, I get it. Look, we’re going to open up the case a bit. I don’t think that the attack in February was his first.”

Cruz exchanged a glance with Lucky. “What makes you think that?”

Taggert hesitated, then decided to not to mention the tip he’d received. “Looking over the statements that Esposito took—even in the detail they lack, there are enough common threads that make me think his MO was a little too developed in that first attack. What happened to Dana Watson is what happened to Brooke Lynn Ashton.  Grabbed after leaving the movies, near a fountain, beaten, raped, handcuffed—”

“You should have seen an escalation,” Lucky muttered. “If Dana Watson is the first victim, he should be refining his technique, right?”

“Right. Making small adjustments—or improvements.” Taggert grimaced. “But the attacks are identical, even down to the type of injuries. They’re controlled. I’m not saying that it’s impossible, it just feels like he already had his attack down before the Watson case. If he didn’t hit Port Charles, then maybe another city.” He glanced down at his records. “Including Brooke Lynn Ashton, there are thirteen open rapes going back to 1995. Four of them are from this year and already at the lab. The other nine? Scattered between 1995 and 2000. Our older case records aren’t computerized yet—nothing past 2000.”

“You want us to pull all nine?” Lucky asked, leaning forward, his eyes on Taggert. “All of them?”

Neither of them said her name, but Taggert knew what the younger man was referring to. “Yeah. Look at all of them. Bring them up. Go through them. Make me a list of possible related cases. We’re sending all of the kits to the lab thanks to the funding the new ADA got us, but I want to read and be familiar with the files before we get any lab work back.  Maybe we can close a few other cases even if they’re not linked. Let’s try to do some good.”

He got to his feet, then hesitated, looked back at them. “What happened to Brooke this weekend—what happened to her and the other women—that’s on the PCPD, but it’s not on you two. Or Falconieri. We’re trying to do better, but it’s not going to happen overnight.”

“Are we done throwing women under the bus?” Cruz muttered as he and Lucky stood. When Taggert just raised his brows at him, Cruz shrugged. “Brooke Lynn Ashton wasn’t the first woman to get screwed over by this department in the month I’ve worked here. I’m just not sure who we’re serving and protecting.”

“Everyone,” Taggert told him. “But yeah, it doesn’t always feel that way. We’re trying, Rodriguez. I’m trying. We need to work this case and bring him to justice before another woman gets attacked. Let’s focus on getting that much right.”

Quartermaine Estate: Patio

Dillon had set eyes on Georgie Jones on his first day in Port Charles and had fallen for her, hook, line, and sinker the minute she’d grabbed him at that pay phone, kissed him, and told him to play along for her sister.

For the last five months, they’d been dating, and he’d been happy. She, along with Maxie and Lucas, were really the first friends he’d ever made and kept for more than a few weeks and Dillon had been enjoying that. Until Brooke had shown up and reminded him how lonely he’d been once.

Georgie had come over to keep him company as his family got ready for Brooke’s memorial service, but so far, she’d just fretted over the treatment her stepfather was receiving in the newspapers and tabloids. And she was dancing around the real reason Mac was under fire that day—

“Just say it,” he told her after nearly twenty minutes of listening to her ramble and tell stories about what a good guy Mac was. “You didn’t come over here because you were worried about me. You came to say something.”

Georgie pressed her lips together, grimaced. “I just—I know your family is grieving, I guess, even though they barely knew Brooke, and I get Ned is devastated, but they’re taking it out on Mac and he’s going to end up fired—”

“They’re taking it out on him,” Dillon repeated, “because your stepfather fucked up royally and now my niece is dead. Four women have been brutally attacked and raped.” He snorted. “But yeah, Mac’s a great guy. He’s an idiot, Georgie—”

She lunged up from the patio chair. “He works so hard, Dillon. You have no right—”

“He didn’t notice a serial rapist was working in the park,” Dillon shot back. “And then when he did figure it out, he let the mayor get away with being a giant dick about tourism and didn’t tell anyone. Tell me, Georgie, why didn’t you and Maxie go with us in the park to look for Brooke? Did he warn you?”

Georgie paled, looked away, and swallowed hard. “He told us we shouldn’t go in the park after dark. But he’s always said that, Dillon. It wasn’t new.”

“Bullshit. He warned you without telling you. Brooke didn’t get that warning. And now she’s dead—” He waved a hand at her, dismissing her as he turned to go back in the house.

“She’s not dead because of my father!” Georgie snapped back. “She took a bunch of pills—” She stopped abruptly when Dillon spun back to confront her, his eyes wide. “I didn’t mean that, Dillon. I know she was hurting—”

“It took weeks for you to give her a chance.” He shook his head. “It took all of us weeks to give her a chance, and when she needed someone in her corner, where were we?”

“We tried—she kicked us out—”

“We shouldn’t have gone. I should have known better. I never had anyone growing up. I knew how lonely she was—” Dillon shook his head. “I’m not going to ask my brother and my family to let up on the PCPD. They’re morons and right now, your stepfather is their king. So, don’t come over here again defending him.”

“I won’t!” Georgie stomped down the steps of the patio, obviously opting to exit through the garden entrance to the estate, bypassing the house.

He couldn’t believe Georgie, of all people, would have come here less than two days after Brooke had died, trying to defend the man responsible. He didn’t care what kind of saint Mac Scorpio was. Brooke was dead, and it was, at least partially, his fault.

Quartermaine Estate: Front Room

 “This is not the conversation I need to be having the day before I bury my daughter,” Ned said as he turned away from the window and looked back at his grandfather.

“I apologize for the timing,” Edward said gruffly, his usual fire and brimstone dimmed with grief and weariness. “But you want someone to pay for what happened at the PCPD, and if we can’t find someone to run against Floyd in November, it’ll have to be you.”

Ned scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to find the energy to explain to Edward why it was a terrible idea for him to run for mayor.

Except…why not?

Why shouldn’t it be him?

It couldn’t have been him before Brooke…he would have been putting her in the spotlight, making a terrible situation even more horrific for his daughter. But she was gone.

And someone had to pay for that. Could Ned even believe that the PCPD would find the animal who had raped her, who had driven her to take so many pain pills that she had—

No. If Floyd stayed in office, he’d keep Mac as commissioner, and the two of them would just keep protecting one another, leaving the citizens of the city to rot. Throwing away women like his little girl so they could keep their power.

Who knew the damage they could do better than Ned? He’d watched them as they’d screwed up Carly Corinthos’ kidnapping, leaving her rescue up to the woman Ric had been drugging and abusing to the point poor Elizabeth had nearly died. He had a front row seat to the damage their political cover-ups had done to his family—

His daughter was never going to have a chance to grow up. To write her songs, to make the music she’d dreamed of for so long. She’d been broken, irreparably, by some piece of trash that the PCPD had let wreak havoc for months without once warning the public—

And it was because of Floyd. The poison started at the top. So maybe it was time to rip it out at the roots.

“Get me the paperwork,” Ned told Edward. “I’ll do it.”

Brownstone: Backyard

Lucas sighed as he watched his cousin delicately adjusting the strap of her tank top to avoid tan lines on her shoulders. Maxie laid back on the lounger and peered over at him as he sat down and set a glass of lemonade next to her. “I told you I’d get it. I came over to cheer you up.”

That’s what she had announced a half hour ago when she’d shown up on his doorstep with her sunglasses and suntan lotion tucked in a tote bag slung over her shoulder. Then she’d arranged herself on the lounger in his backyard which reminded him that his house got better afternoon sun than hers.

He adored his silly and frivolous cousin, and she had, in her own way, brightened his day.

“It feels weird to be affected by any of this,” he said after a long moment. “Two weeks ago, Brooke was Dillon’s family, someone we were tolerating because we liked him. I mean, I had maybe a handful of conversations with her that were longer than five seconds. Do I even have a right to be upset about any of this?”

“Listen.” Maxie peered at him over the tips of her dark lenses. “Time is dumb. Who gets to decide how long you gotta know a person before you get to be sad about losing them? You liked Brooke. I know you did. And so did Dillon. And I bet she and I were gonna be friends, mostly because I think she really annoyed Georgie, and you know how that gets me going. We get to be sad about what’s never gonna happen just as much as we’re sad about what did.”

She sighed, then looked back up at the sky. “Plus, we’re not just feeling sad. We’re feeling guilty. If we had just stopped worrying about ourselves for five minutes, maybe we could found her faster. Or maybe—”

“Or maybe I could stop picking fights with your idiot boyfriend.”

Maxie raised a brow as if to say, well, duh. “But my idiot boyfriend could also not take the bait. He feels just as shitty as we do, Lucas.” She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the seat. “I know you don’t like Kyle. And I get that he did something incredibly stupid and awful, but I’m not exactly innocent, you know? I’m not perfect. And I don’t get to demand perfection from anyone else. He’s a dumb jock who’s figured out he’s a dumb jock. He wants to do better. I’m happy with him. I’d like you to give him a chance.”

“Yeah. Well…” Lucas hesitated. “I need to tell you something, Maxie. I haven’t told you before because I didn’t know how you’d deal with it. And I wasn’t ready to tell my mom. But I told Brooke. And I told Mom. I’m done hiding.” He waited until Maxie slid the sunglasses to the top of her head. “I’m gay.”

His cousin stared at him for a long moment. “Okay.”

Lucas squinted. “I mean, gay, Maxie. Like I have a boyfriend. His name is Felix.”

“Okay.” She pursed her lips. “Can I meet him?”

A bit at sea over her nonplussed response, Lucas cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I guess. You know what gay is—”

“Oh, Oh, I’m not reacting right, am I?” Maxie squared her shoulders, tossed her hair back. “Okay, let’s do it again. I can be way more dramatic. From the top.”

He laughed, then switched to sit next to her. He slung an arm over her shoulder in a partial hug. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad Brooke was someone you could come out to,” Maxie told him. “I figured she was into girls because she totally checked out my ass a few times. I wish I could have known her longer.” She exhaled slowly. “Georgie’s fighting with Dillon because of the stuff Ned and his family are saying in the papers, you know.”

“Yeah, I read it. And I saw the news last night.” Lucas returned to his seat. “Georgie’s always been more sensitive about these things—”

“Georgie has a hard time seeing people for who they are,” Maxie said with a shake of her head. “She still thinks my dad is this awesome guy who’s sacrificing his own life to save lives. Sure, Frisco’s doing good work for someone out there, but he’s also a guy who finds adventure more interesting than being a father. Mac’s the only dad I really remember. And it sucks to find out he’s human.”

She reached for her lemonade. “He told me and Georgie to stay out of the park. He didn’t tell me why. I mean, damn it, Lucas, he’s supposed to protect people. Why didn’t he protect Brooke? Or those other girls in the paper? Can’t Georgie see that Mac screwed up?”

She twirled the straw in the glass with a heavy sigh. “How do I make those guys fit in my head? The dad I grew up with, who could do no wrong—how could he be the same kind of guy who just…abandoned the people he was supposed to protect?”

Port Charles Municipal Building: Scott Baldwin’s Office

 Kelsey dropped some paperwork on the conference table as she took her seat across from Scott. “Taggert had the rookies in his division send over the rape kits from the nine open cases in cold storage.”

“Good, good. When does he expect the results back?”

“Well, we put a rush on the orders,” Kelsey told him as she tied her hair back in a ponytail. “The original three victims from this year were sent over last week, Brooke Ashton’s last Wednesday. We should have them back sometime in August. And then probably the last nine first week of September.”

Scott grimaced. “Science needs to move faster—” He looked at her. “How many cases did you say were in cold storage?” He started sifting through his notes, looking for a list he’d made after a meeting with Mac. “He sent me a list of open rapes before—”

“Nine in cold storage, four active, so thirteen…” Kelsey tilted her head. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t think about it at the time, but back when Taggert took over Major Crimes, he said he wanted to send over twelve kits. He had the three open, and nine from cold storage. That makes sense. Brooke makes thirteen.”

“So?”

“So, when Floyd was yelling at me and Mac last week, Mac said fourteen—” Scott found the list of cases and counted them, sliding his fingers down the list. “There are only twelve on this list, too. This was made before Brooke.”

“Maybe Mac messed up the number. He hasn’t really been on top of the rape cases.” Kelsey tapped her pile of paperwork. “It’s not like we don’t have proof he’s not always great with the details.”

“Yeah, I guess. You said the rookies are working on the cold cases?”

“Yeah, Taggert sent them down to storage to pull everything that was open so he could go through them. Make sure this is the first time our guy has hit Port Charles. I agree with him — the style is too specific to be brand new. Unless he’s unique in some way. He also just wants to be familiar with them if the kits come back with a hit.” Kelsey leaned forward to peer at the paperwork in front of Scott. “The Lansing case?”

“Yeah.” Scott sighed. “Lansing is making noises about credibility of the witnesses. Liz and Carly are both seeing therapists — that’ll be easy to explain since he tried to kill them both and they’re traumatized. But he must know something about Sonny, because he warned me he’s putting together a subpoena on that.” He shook his head. “Liz has a hearing to renew the protection order on Friday.”

“I’ve seen the evidence, Scott. She should be a shoo-in—”

“Yeah, well, it’s before the same judge that slapped the injunction on Morgan for Liz’s power of attorney and dragged his feet about letting us arrest Ric for the kidnapping. I don’t trust the family court when it comes to Liz.” He grimaced as he continued to make notes. “Plus, he’s gonna use the fact that Liz is dating Morgan now as evidence of something. He’s an asshole and they always get away with bullshit like this.”

He set his pen down. “I’ve been thinking of maybe offering him some sort of deal.”

Kelsey lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Because this is a big case. And your handling of it has been basically the only thing the media likes. You got a lot of good ink when you got held in contempt—”

“Yeah, well…” Scott huffed. “That’s not why I did it. I’m looking at these subpoenas, and even though Ric can’t make Liz and Carly give him statements prior to trial, he’s defending himself. How can I put them through a trial and testimony? He nearly killed Elizabeth, and Carly’s still in therapy.”

“So, you’d offer him a plea?” Kelsey wrinkled her nose. “He’s on the hook to go away for life if the right judge gives him consecutive sentences. You think it would make them happier if he spent less time in prison?”

“The difference between parole in twenty-five years and no parole at all isn’t much. Liz and Carly might be okay with twenty-five years of a Ric-free existence. Look, I’m just thinking about it.”

“You’d talk to them first, right?” Kelsey bit her lip. “I mean, not just talk, Scott. You should ask them. They may want to testify. It might be something they’re looking forward to.”

“If I didn’t talk to them first, Bobbie would cut my head off, and believe me, she’s already not so happy with me these days.” He sighed. “Let’s talk about the other open cases. What’s on the docket this week?”

Condo: Hallway

 When Emily had suggested Jason and Elizabeth join her and Lucky for dinner at Kelly’s, Elizabeth had been hesitant, but Jason and Lucky seemed to be fine together. Apparently, Emily told her, they’d worked together while Elizabeth had been in her coma. Another sign that her ex-boyfriend was starting to feel comfortable in his own skin again.

They’d tried not to talk about what brought Emily back to Port Charles this time, but it was difficult to stay off the topic of Brooke. Lucky didn’t talk about the investigation, but it was on their minds. Afterwards, she and Jason said goodbye to his sister and Lucky, then took a drive on the cliff roads.

But Brooke was still in her head when they got back to her condo building and Elizabeth couldn’t shake the feeling that she could have done more to help the younger woman.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she put her key in her lock and glanced at Jason as he leaned against the wall. “I’m not great company tonight.”

He tipped his head to the side. “You want me to leave?”

“No.” She pushed her door open, feeling very sure about that. “No. I guess I’m just—I’m thinking about Brooke again. About these last few weeks since that letter from Baker…since I found out Ric was drugging me for so long…” She closed the door and tossed her keys on the coffee table.

She could still see the last vestiges of the sunset on the horizon as she crossed to her large window overlooking the harbor. “And I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened to me back then. Did I tell you it was the same…the same place as Brooke? In the park?”

She glanced over her shoulder as he drew closer to her, his brow furrowed. “You said something that night, I think.”

“I couldn’t remember anything for weeks.” She managed a smile, her face reflected dimly in the glass in front of her. “I didn’t want to remember anything. It came back in fits and starts, you know? I remembered something he said to me. The way he smelled. But I still pushed away most of it. Until I started seeing Gail. God, it all came back so fast during one session, but still I couldn’t let myself remember all of it—”

She sighed and turned to face him, leaning against the window. “You remember when you came home that August?”

“Yeah.”

“I had cut my hair short.” Elizabeth touched the ends of hair. “Shorter than I had in years. Because I remembered the way he had touched it. He had wrapped his fingers in it. Smelled my hair. If I could have dyed it without explaining to anyone, I might have. I settled for chopping—” She hesitated, seeing the wince on his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m talking about this—”

“It’s—” Jason shook his head, looked away. “I knew before that night at Jake’s—before you told me. I knew what you’d been through. Logically. Until these last weeks—until that letter from Baker—I don’t think I ever really understood it.”

“Jason—”

“What you went through. What you still go through.” He turned away, then sat on the sofa, put his head in his hands. “I can’t make it go away. I can’t make it stop. And I keep thinking about that night—when I told you I had gone to see him—”

“Hey.” She perched on the coffee table in front of him, slid her fingers under his chin so he’d look at her. “Jason.”

“I listened to you, and I just—I remember that day at the docks. When I saw you and I saw that you had cut your hair.” His mouth twisted. “Do you know what I thought when I saw you?”

“No.” She tilted her head. “Tell me.”

He hesitated, but then shrugged. “I always liked your hair, I guess. I’d never really thought about it. But you were just—I liked it. I wanted to—” He shook his head. “It’s not—”

“When I saw you that day,” Elizabeth told him, “when I ran to you on the docks, and you hugged me—I was attracted to you. Is that what you don’t want to say? That a haircut I got made me more attractive to you?”

“It’s not the right time—”

“It is,” Elizabeth pressed. “Because if I let you back away from this—it’s like I need to be protected from the way you feel about me. The way I thought you felt.”

“Elizabeth—”

“It’s not like I wrote you before that day and said I remembered that my rapist did something disgusting with my hair, so I cut it as short as I could without people asking questions. You came home, you saw me, and you liked it. I’m glad. I mean, if we’re sharing embarrassing memories — when I used to change your bandage that winter you were shot—I used to fantasize about licking you.”

A startled laugh escaped his lips and he dipped his head. “Christ. It’s not the same—”

“No, but you know? I hated that haircut and it’s taken forever to grow out. Now? Knowing you thought I was hot with it—” Her smile felt wicked. “I kind of want to cut it again.”

He smiled again, but his eyes were still sad. “Elizabeth—” Jason shook his head, rose to his feet to walk to the window, then paced back to the sofa. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. To say. Are you okay? This isn’t even about me—”

She crossed to him, where he stood by the table, reaching out her fingers to twist in the soft tan fabric of his t-shirt. She could feel the muscles of his abdomen tense beneath the shirt. “I told Bobbie after it happened that I didn’t think I could ever be with someone again. Not the way I could have before then. She told me it would be okay someday, but I didn’t believe her.”

“But you found Lucky.”

“I did,” Elizabeth admitted. “But it was sweet. And light. Gentle. If he’d lived—the version of him that I loved so very much—if that Lucky hadn’t died, I don’t know what would have happened. But I put myself back into a box. Until you.”

Jason frowned slightly, shook his head. “I don’t—”

“The first time we were on your bike,” Elizabeth said, tipping her head up. “I climbed on behind you and wrapped my arms around you. I felt tingly all over. I didn’t even really understand what I was feeling. Not then. It was new. And it was good.”

“Elizabeth—”

“And when you were half naked for weeks in my studio?” Her cheeks were flaming. “You probably could have just crooked your finger at me, and I would have followed you anywhere. You gave me that back. That sense of being a woman. Of knowing that I could feel that way again.”

“I didn’t do—”

“No, you didn’t. It was just enough that you were there, that you were kind, and that you were my friend. I felt safe with you. Safe enough that if you hadn’t left. If things had been different—” She lifted a shoulder. “Things would have been different.”

“You weren’t ready,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. His hands drifted down her shoulders, his fingers warm through the cotton of her shirt. “It was better that way.”

“Maybe,” she allowed. “Jason, what I went through—I went through it. And I’m on the other side. Mostly. I’ll have bad moments. And they’re not going to be easy for either of us. I really don’t want it or anything else to be the reason you step away from me. Or this. Not when we’re finally on the same page at the same time.”

“I don’t want that either.”

Their eyes met and she wasn’t entirely sure who had moved first, but then he was kissing her. Not just with the sweetness and gentleness they’d shared for the last few weeks, but with something more. Or maybe he’d just stopped holding back.

She wrapped her fingers in his t-shirt as his hands dived into her hair, tilting her head back as Jason drew her closer.

“Jason—” she managed to say. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He hesitated again, his breath warm and quick against her lips. His eyes asked the question silently and she answered it with a rocking of her hips against him.

There had been enough waiting, enough talking, and she was done with it. Done with waiting for her life to start over. Waiting to take the next step. Waiting to give herself to this man that she had loved for so long.

Somehow, they were in the bedroom, but it wasn’t fast and quick. It was the dreamy slow motion she’d fantasized about so often. She stripped him of his shirt, and then he peeled hers over her head.

Their jeans hit the floor at some point, and then they were on the bed. The tingles she had told him about earlier were back, but they were like piercing needles as the tension built inside her. She wanted his hands everywhere at once, and if not, then maybe his mouth—everywhere he touched her felt like fire.

He slid inside her like she’d always been waiting for him, and she drew in a sharp breath, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Elizabeth—” Jason’s movements stilled as his hands framed her face, his thumb catching on his tears. “Are you—”

“It’s just…so much more than I ever imagined,” she managed, her voice trembling. “Doesn’t it just…feel right?”

He leaned down, brushed her lips softly. “Yeah.” His hand slid down her bare torso, hooking her knee higher and she gasped at the sensation. How could anything that felt this good be legal?

When the end came, everything shattered inside her. Dimly she could her name was on his lips. And then it was quiet, the only sound in the room was that of their own shallow breathing.

Until she started to gasp for air, clutching at her chest as she frantically rolled away from him, reaching for the oxygen tank at the side of her bed.

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you when
She stands under my colors, oh and
Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be, no
Ain’t even gray, but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life,
Well, I’ve had just enough time
– If I Die Young, The Band Perry

---

Sunday, July 20, 2003

Kelly’s: Courtyard

“I wish I knew what to do with all this anger,” Bobbie said as she leaned back to allow Penny Ramirez to place her salad in front of her. “I almost hope the Quartermaines take on the city for what happened to Brooke, and maybe you should go after them, too—”

Elizabeth grimaced. “Jason and I talked about it again last night. Justus called me to ask if I was interested in changing my mind. He said he was looking over my paperwork and with what happened with Brooke—but I can’t see myself using Brooke that way and—I was angry about what Capelli did—”

Restless, she swirled her straw in her glass of ice, swishing it from side to side. “He was suspended, and I know Taggert put Lucky and those other rookies on the house. What happened to me isn’t even the same league—” She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe they’re still investigating rapes the same way they were five years ago. It seems insane to me.”

“The rape kit?” Bobbie huffed. “When I think of how hard it was to convince you to turn over your dress and go in for that exam at all—” She shook her head. “To think that it sat for months—”

“I mean nothing came of it, but—” Elizabeth shrugged. “They couldn’t have known that. And how many other women’s cases sat on a shelf, going colder and colder.” She bit her lip. “How is Lucas? He was upset yesterday—”

“Well, that’s at least one good thing that came from all of this.” Bobbie managed a smile. “He said he spoke to you yesterday, so I know you know. He came home yesterday and introduced me to Felix.”

“Felix,” Elizabeth said slowly, not entirely willing to assume how much Lucas had told his mother. “His friend from college?”

“His boyfriend from college,” Bobbie corrected. “To be honest, I suspected for the last year or so—he’s never really had a girlfriend and, well…I’m glad he felt like he could finally live his truth. I don’t know if he’s coming out to anyone else right now, but thank you, Elizabeth. For being there for him yesterday.”

“I’m glad he was able to talk to you. I wish everyone would be as kind to him, but…” Elizabeth picked up her fork. “The world is a terrible place.”

“And I worry about him,” Bobbie admitted, “but at least he doesn’t have to hide from me anymore. And I’m sure Tony will be understanding. I encouraged him to open up to his father, so hopefully…” She scowled as a woman passed by them, heading into the diner. She carried a tote bag that with a sticker proclaiming I’M WITH FLOYD 2003. “I wish someone were running against him.”

“Can’t believe in a city this size we’re stuck with one guy running. Floyd’s been mayor since I moved here. How is that possible?”

“Money and connections.” Bobbie shook her head. “And with ten days left to register for the election, we’ll probably be stuck with four more years of corruption and cronyism. And don’t—” She stabbed her fork in Elizabeth’s direction. “I see your wheels turning. I’m not running against him.”

“Well someone has to and since I’m currently dating a coffee exporter, I’m not eligible.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I just—I hate that Brooke’s family has to deal with this. I hate that this happened. I wish I could have been there for her—”

“You were there, Elizabeth. She called you, she reached out—it’s tragic you missed the call—” Bobbie pressed her lips together. “BJ nearly missed her bus that day. I called for her to hurry up. You went on a ride with your boyfriend. It’s terrible, but it’s human.” She paused for a moment. “Was this—did you ever think of…”

“You mean did I ever think of just doing something to make it all stop?” Elizabeth asked. She folded her arms on the table. “I don’t know. I spent a lot of those first days laying in bed, wanting the world to leave me alone. But I also—I had a goal. I didn’t want anyone to know, and I started measuring my days that way, congratulating myself every day I got through where I kept my secret. I had you to lean on in those first few days—you, Luke, and, of course, Lucky. And then once my grandmother found out—it just started to get easier to breathe.”

She bit her lip. “But if I’d gone through what Brooke did? She was beaten, Bobbie. Given pain pills to cope with her injuries. It was so hard to sleep those few days, and sleep was the only time I could really make it go away. If I’d had something to help me sleep…I don’t know.” She leaned back in her chair. “I hope those rape kits come back and they find this bastard in the system somehow. I want this to be over. I don’t want another girl to go through this.”

Port Charles Hotel: Jax’s Penthouse

Jax put a glass of water down in front of Ned as his friend sat on his sofa, pouring over paperwork spread out over the dark coffee table, but Ned didn’t even look up.

There had been no question of returning to the gate house after leaving the hospital the night before—Lois had gone back to the suite she was sharing with Olivia, shell-shocked and devastated.  And Ned?

Ned hadn’t yet slept. Hadn’t eaten. And would likely not even touch the water at his side.

Jax knew grief — though both of the women he had mourned had turned out to be alive, it hadn’t changed the years of suffering, the lingering ache of sadness. He had watched Brenda’s mother drive that car over the cliff, had searched for her for days, had chased her image around the world, desperate for any hint of her existence.

He would have gone to the ends of the earth to bring back either Miranda or Brenda, but he could not imagine the devastation of losing a child.

Alexis touched his shoulder, jarring him from his thoughts. She tipped her head towards the kitchen, so Jax followed her, leaving Ned engrossed in the newspaper clippings and legal statutes. Brooke’s death had only increased his resolve to go after the city in some way.

“I don’t know how to get him through this,” Alexis confessed, her voice hushed. “He’s been through so much this year—when we lost Kristina last year, then my daughter born prematurely—he had to take care of her—” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to help him.” She looked towards the doorway. “He’s looking for revenge.”

“It’s all he knows,” Jax murmured. He leaned against the kitchen island and dragged a hand through his unruly blonde hair, disheveled from his own lack of rest. “He’s like me. Raised to locate the vulnerability and exploit it for my own gain. It’s what makes us good at our jobs—”

“But shit at personal lives. I know.” Alexis scrubbed her hands over her face. “He’s going to sue the city, but it’s not going to make it better. It never does.”

“Planning revenge gets him through today,” he offered. “And maybe tomorrow. But yeah, he’s gonna look up one day and realize it didn’t get him anywhere.” He crossed his arms. “Have you thought about distracting him with Krissy?”

Alexis heaved a sigh. “I’m thinking it might be selfish to keep asking Ned to maintain this lie.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “He was never supposed to be involved with raising her. It was just a fiction to keep Sonny away from her. But once—”

“Once you faked a mental illness to get out of paying for tossing that pissant over the balcony, the game changed. Yeah, I know.” Jax tipped his head to the side. “Nothing’s changed, Alexis. And it might be good for Ned. He’ll be a better father to Krissy than Sonny ever was.”

“I guess. I don’t know. I just—I wish I knew how to help him.”

“We’re going to help him get his revenge,” Jax said plainly. “However it has to happen, that’s what we’ll do. And then we’ll be there to pick up him when it’s over. We’ll stick together. Just like we always have.”

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Lucky hesitated when he entered the courtyard, finding Elizabeth sitting at one of the tables, sipping an iced tea. He hadn’t seen her since his memories—and his emotions—had started to return. They were still a jumble of visions and images that didn’t feel like they made a lot of sense — but the time before the fire, that was starting to feel crystal clear.

And those memories—which had been damaged even before the last round of brainwashing—had him taking a deep breath and approaching her table. “Hey. Do you mind if I sit down?”

She glanced up and offered him a hesitant smile. “Yeah. Sure.  I just had breakfast with Bobbie, but she had to run to the hospital. Actually, I’m glad you’re here. Emily landed this morning and we’re meeting for drinks.”

Lucky wasn’t entirely sure she meant that, but he took the seat across from her. “There are some things I have to say to you—things I didn’t tell you the last time we really talked. Or…after the wedding.”

Elizabeth set the menu down and leaned forward, folding her elbows on the table. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I mean—yes. Sort of.” He scratched his temple, trying to figure out exactly how to explain himself. “You know that Helena used the Ice Princess on me to…mess with the way I felt about you. The way I remembered you.”

“I do.” She tipped her head. “Are you starting to remember?”

“What I never told anyone is that…” He hesitated. “Is how far back she’d messed with my memories. When I came home, a lot of my life was…it was like swiss cheese, you know? Holes everywhere. I had trouble remembering my childhood, the people in my life—and you—she hadn’t figured out how to erase emotions but memories—those were messed up.”

“When you came home originally?” Elizabeth asked. She blinked. “But—”

“I loved you—I knew I loved you—but I couldn’t remember why.” He fisted his hands on the table. “And then last year, she wiped all of my memories with you. Nikolas knew the memories were gone, too. Not just the emotions. But everything.”

He finally looked up to meet her eyes. They were soft and deep with sorrow. “Elizabeth—”

“I wish you could have told me that,” she murmured. “I’m sorry we were so far apart by then, Lucky. I’m glad Nikolas could be there for you.”

He exhaled slowly, feeling like his lungs could expand fully for the first time in years. “I tried at first to pretend it was all okay. But I couldn’t. And I started doing a lot of dumb things. I hurt you. And I wasn’t there for my mother when she needed me—” He looked away, pressure building behind his eyes. “I’m good at running away. I ran from you. I ran from my mother. After we rescued my dad last year, I couldn’t pretend anymore. My family was gone. You were gone. I didn’t have anything left.”

“But you’re doing better now,” Elizabeth said softly. “Aren’t you? Bobbie said you liked your job.”

“I met Dante and Cruz at the academy, and they didn’t know me before. They just know me now.” He hesitated. “It made it easier.” He managed a smile. “And then I met Kelsey.”

Elizabeth returned his smile. “Kelsey Joyce? From the DA’s office?”

“Yeah. It’s…new, but it’s nice.” He sat back. “And everything that’s good about my life right now—the things that are working—it just reminded me how things ended with you. How horrible I feel about all of that—”

“I think of how much damage we did to each other,” she murmured, tilting her head to the side. “Trying desperately to recapture those moments before the fire. Everything seemed so perfect, you know? I was in love with my best friend, planning an incredible future. I kept searching for that boy, Lucky. I hurt you. I hurt myself. I hurt people I cared about. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucky said with a fervent shake of his head. “Because I know I made it worse. I made you feel like you were responsible for me. And you weren’t. We were all young and we were dealing with something that just…had no easy answers.” He leaned back in chair. “It’s been coming back this last week. Since I got to the park. I interviewed Dillon and I just—I knew the way he was feeling. The guilt, The anger. I could feel it boiling in my veins.”

He grimaced, looked away. “What happened to Brooke was—it was terrible, but we made it worse. We could have stopped it. They knew there was a serial rapist. The DA’s office made the link after the third attack, and Taggert officially took over the cases just before Brooke was attacked, but the mayor decided to block the warning. Couldn’t have it screwing up the summer tourism—” Lucky shook his head. “I’m sorry. This—”

“I was thinking about the pain Brooke must have been feeling and remembering how much I wanted the whole world to go away back then. Bobbie asked if…” Elizabeth stared down at her glass, feeling the condensation with her fingertips. “She asked me if it was something I dealt with. I mean, taking something to make it go away. And I just—I had you. And I had Bobbie, and your dad in his own bumbling way.”

A tear slid down her cheek even as she smiled. “The first day I didn’t go back to school, you came over and—my window was right over the front door? Remember? I was laying in my bed, curled up, with the blankets pulled over my head. Blocking out the world. But I could hear you. I knew I wasn’t alone.”

“I should have taken you to the dance, Elizabeth. We had a deal—”

She laughed, shaking her head even as she wiped at her years. “God, Lucky, no. You had to know I thought it was a date, and you were probably excited at a chance to make it seem like it wasn’t. You liked Sarah. You had your chance. I don’t blame you. I never did.”

“I know. And I tell myself all the time it’s not my fault, but—” He sighed. “I just want to do better. I want to do better by the women this asshole has hurt because it’s the right thing to do, but now because I remember how angry I was when we found out Baker wasn’t going to jail for what happened to you—”

“If I could have been more calm about the whole thing,” Elizabeth said, “if I hadn’t caused a mistrial, Dara Jensen never would have had to make a deal with him.” She bit her lip, drawing it between her teeth. “Baker’s up for parole soon. He sent me some sort of letter last week. I didn’t—I didn’t read it. But he’ll be out soon.”

“Well, that’s one thing Jason’s good for—” Lucky said with a rueful smile. “You’ll probably have a bodyguard.” He blinked. “Do you not have one today?”

“Cody’s inside watching me.” She twisted and gave her guard a little wave. “Jason doesn’t think Ric will approach me in public. Especially since he got permission to go to Crimson Point and stay with his father until the trial. It helps knowing he’s not in Port Charles.”

“It doesn’t worry you?”

Elizabeth jerked a shoulder. “Maybe it should. But what can he can he do to me that he already hasn’t? I have a restraining order, at least for a little while longer. I have a bodyguard. I’m out in public.” She lifted her chin. “I lived my life in fear for months, Lucky, back after my rape. I’m not going to do it again. I can’t let fear run my life.” She raised her brow. “Plus, Justus agreed to come back and take Jason and Sonny’s job offer, and he’s already set me up with the best divorce attorney in the state to handle my case. Ric isn’t going to run my life. Not ever again.”

“Fair enough.”

Emily came into the courtyard, then and Elizabeth hurried to her feet to hug her best friend. Lucky also got up and hugged his oldest friend. It was good to have her back. Especially now that he was starting to feel like himself for the first time in years.

“I’m so glad to see you, even though I wish you weren’t coming home for this,” he said as he drew back, leaving a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about Brooke.”

“It’s terrible,” Emily agreed, but she managed a smile. “But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Port Charles Hotel: Suite

Lois placed the phone back on the receiver, then leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. It was easy to focus on the details of arranging for her daughter to be taken home to Bensonhurst, to purchase a plot in the cemetery, arrange for a viewing with her family and friends back home.

It was easy as long as Lois told herself it wasn’t real. That it was someone else who had died, that everything she had done so far today was for someone else’s child. Not her baby.

Not her Brooke.

In the armchair adjacent to the sofa, Olivia sat with her own lists and papers. She had spent the morning in her bedroom, making phone calls. Olivia Falconieri was more than her best friend, she was family. Her mother was Lois’s godmother, and Gloria Cerullo was Olivia’s. They were god sisters, and in their heavily Catholic neighborhood, that meant something.

Annoying as Olivia often was, Lois knew she couldn’t get through this without her. Olivia had volunteered to call extended family and relatives to tell them about Brooke, leaving Lois to have to tell only her parents. Not having to repeat the devastation over and over again herself—

That was something.

But maybe if she had been saying it over and over again, it would feel real. Olivia had gone into the bedroom to spare Lois from having to hear her say it, but she could imagine it in her head. She’d barely managed to get the words out to her mother — telling her that Brooke had taken too many of her pain pills, medication given to her to lessen the agony she suffered from her injuries.

Injuries.

As if the only thing wrong with her little girl were the visible cuts and bruises.

No, Brooke had been suffering inside and Lois hadn’t been able to reach her. Hadn’t been able to solve her problems. The last time she’d spoken to her daughter before the attack, Brooke had had an attitude, had snarled at her about being sent to Port Charles like she was being exiled to freakin’ Siberia—and Lois had hung up on her.

She’d have to live with that for the rest of her life. She’d hung up on her daughter. Hadn’t listened to her, hadn’t taken her complaints seriously. She’d snapped her cell phone shut and gone on with her day, not once knowing that was basically the last time she’d speak to her daughter—Brooke had barely even spoken to her after she’d woken up.

“Lois,” Olivia said hesitantly, “Monica called me while I was—in the bedroom,” she said after a brief pause. “She understands if you don’t want to come, but she and Lila would like to have something at the house for Brooke.”

Lois squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to go back to that house. Not to the main house where her life with Ned had fallen apart, and certainly not to the gatehouse where Brooke’s despair had led her to the dark abyss.

But Lila had always been kind to her, and she knew from Ned that Monica and Dillon had reached out to Brooke during her time in Port Charles.

She’d come to Port Charles on Wednesday, angry and ready to burn down the world. And she’d been so angry she’d missed her daughter’s pain.

“I don’t want to go,” Lois said slowly. “I can’t—I can’t do it, twice, Liv, and my parents—they need to have something for her at home. I can’t—” Her throat squeezed shut. “I can’t say goodbye twice. But it’s okay. If they have—they can do it.”

“Okay. Do you—” Olivia joined her on the sofa and squeezed her hand. “Do you mind if I go? I’m sure Dante will, and I’m worried about him. I was thinking of hanging around Port Charles a few more weeks, just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay.” Lois drew in a shuddering breath. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay. You go to the service here, and then I can take Brookie back home—and I can never set foot in Port Charles again. That works for me.”

Scorpio House: Living Room

 Felicia squeezed her youngest daughter tightly, pressing her lips to the top of Georgie’s head. “I’m so sorry, honey, for what happened to your friend.” She looked at Mac, frowning at her ex-husband as he sat the table, his head in his hands.

Since Mac had picked her up from the airport an hour earlier, he had been quiet. Withdrawn. She knew the press was digging at him, making it all his fault. She’d come home for her girls, but also for Mac. She thought he deserved someone who was in his corner.

“Is it okay if we go out?” Georgie asked, pulling away from her mother. She swiped at her eyes. “We didn’t know you were coming today, and Maxie and I were going to check on Dillon.”

“Of course, baby.” She kissed Georgie’s cheek, then hugged Maxie before the girls left. Once they had, she turned her attention to Mac and sat next to him at the table. “Spill it.”

“It’s been a long month, Felicia.” Mac pulled away from the table and went into the kitchen. He took down a container of instant coffee and started to make himself a cup. “I’m tired.”

“Mac—”

“Look—” He turned to meet her eyes. “The newspapers aren’t wrong. I screwed up the case. I knew some of my guys weren’t doing the job right, but there was a lot going on this year. Alcazar’s murder trial, then Maxie’s overdose last spring, then Carly was kidnapped—I can’t be on top of every case.”

“Of course not—”

“But I should have told the mayor to shove it when he refused to let us issue a warning. I’m—” Mac turned, stared at the cabinets. “I’m not the commissioner this town needs.”

“Oh, come on, Mac, that’s not fair—”

“I’ll never be as good as Robert or Anna. Or even Sean.” He shook his head. “I know that’s what people think. I’m just the lesser Scorpio brother.” He looked at her. “The lesser husband.”

“That’s not fair and it’s not true.” Felicia took his elbow and forced him to turn back towards her. “I messed up our marriage. Not you. And yeah, maybe this case got messed up, but you can’t do it all. The mayor could have fired you—”

“Well, I’m done letting Floyd run my office,” Mac said as he shoved the cup into the microwave to heat it up. “This is the last time I’m going to let him make the call.”

Felicia hesitated, then furrowed her brow. “Does…are there are other times Floyd has asked for a favor?”

Mac was quiet for a minute as the sound of the microwave filled the room. “No,” he said finally. Felicia knew he was lying to her but didn’t call him on it.

If he wasn’t ready to talk about it, there was nothing she could do to force him. He looked like he was wallowing in self-pity, and she knew that wasn’t like him. She would just have to drag him back to reality before she could figure out exactly what he’d gotten himself into.  It was her turn to offer unwavering support, for all the times she hadn’t done right by him.

Warehouse: Sonny’s Office

Jason shifted uneasily in his seat as Sonny signed the last document Bernie set in front of him. Once their business manager had left, he took a deep breath. “Elizabeth still doesn’t know what Tom Baker said. I started to tell her, but—” He hesitated. “I can’t tell her, but I also can’t let it go.”

Sonny grimaced, then stood. He crossed to the minibar and poured himself a drink. “Why?”

“Because Brooke Lynn Ashton was raped at a fountain in the park.” Jason frowned at him. “And she’s dead now. She’s the fourth young woman raped near a fountain this year. Baker’s saying he didn’t attack Elizabeth. It’s gotta be the same guy.”

“Then it’s the cops’ problem isn’t it?” Sonny turned to him, squinting. Jason realized belatedly that this obviously wasn’t his first drink of the day. “I told you, the cops already know about Elizabeth’s case—”

It probably wasn’t even his third. Sonny was drinking heavily again—that was never a good sign. But Jason took a deep breath. “It’s Lois’s daughter, Sonny. And maybe the cops still think Baker’s confession stands. If he was lying that day, it means the scumbag who hurt Elizabeth is still out there—”

“When the cops find him, you can take him out.” Sonny shrugged. “Just like we’re going to do to Ric when the heat dies down. But nothing you can do until then—”

Jason shook his head. He was getting nowhere with this. He was never going to get Sonny’s approval. Good thing he hadn’t planned on waiting for it. “I already did something. I left a tip on their hotline, telling them to look at their cold cases.” When Sonny scowled at him, Jason clenched his teeth. “Look, I know all the reasons we don’t trust the PCPD, but I think Taggert can be trusted—”

Sonny sneered. “Listen to yourself — you’re telling me after everything the PCPD has done this month, you want to give them more ammunition against Elizabeth? What if they take what you give them and put it in the papers, like they did with you going to the house? Those rookies must have told the cops you were there. They twisted it. They gave it to the tabloids—”

“I know that—”

“And you want to give them a reason to discredit Elizabeth?” Sonny shook his head. “You’re not thinking clearly, Jase.” He took a seat behind the desk. “You said Elizabeth still doesn’t know what he said?”

“No.” Jason sat down. “She didn’t want to know.”

“Is that how you want her to find out? The cops leaking to the papers? And look, I get it. Taggert’s always been good to Elizabeth.” Sonny shook his head. “But you know better. She’s connected to you now. And Taggert’s been after us—” He jabbed a finger at Jason. “You tell the cops what Baker told you, it’ll be in the Sun the next day, and then Liz finds out what else you’re not telling her. You think it’ll matter that she told you not to tell her? Once it’s out there in the world? You want to put her on display again?”

“Sonny—”

“Look, I made some inquiries at the PCPD. A guy on our payroll is keeping an eye on the case. Right now, Liz’s case isn’t on their radar. If you’re right, and it’s the same guy, maybe they’ll get him, and he’ll be off the streets. You could tell her then.” Sonny leaned forward. “You broke up with my sister because she cooperated with the cops. How is what you’re doing any different?”

Jason couldn’t answer that. Couldn’t explain why it felt different. He just knew that it was, and he knew that Sonny was wrong about waiting for the PCPD to take care of it. Still, he wasn’t wrong that the wrong cop might hear this information and leak it to the press.

The press fervor over Elizabeth and Carly had only just begun to die down, mostly because of the serial rapes. If Jason went to the police now, he’d just make her part of it all over again. And hadn’t Monica told her to avoid stress? Hadn’t he put her through enough by just saving that damn letter, going to see Baker, and then decided keeping the secret was more important than what she’d asked him to do?

He’d promised her he would put her first and she’d told him to leave it alone.

“They might not pull Elizabeth’s case,” Jason said, finally. “Like you said, they believed Baker’s confession. I did—” He shook his head. “I did what I could to help, and I guess I’ll just let it be enough.”

For now. He looked at Sonny, who was already refilling his glass. Jason had a lot of other things to worry about.

Should’ve stayed, were there signs I ignored?
Can I help you not to hurt anymore?
We saw brilliance when the world was asleep
There are things that we can have but can’t keep
– One More Light, Linkin Park

---

Saturday July 19, 2003

PCPD: Squad Room

Taggert rubbed his eyes and peered over the case report for maybe the third time—he remembered that Lucky had come to him, concerned about Vinnie’s interview with the victim and now, reading over the notes Vinnie had made for the first victim—

A sour feeling rolled in his gut as Taggert read over the conclusions — victim wearing low cut dress, alone in park, no good reason to be there, says she has no enemies but has had a lot of boyfriends. Christ, this read like an interview from a workshop he’d attended a few years earlier, one in which something like this had been given as an example of what not to do.

“Taggert.”

He glanced up to find the commissioner standing by his desk, his dark eyes sober and his features drawn tight. Taggert narrowed his eyes and rose to his feet. “Mac?”

“We just had a call from dispatch. An ambulance just rushed Brooke Lynn Ashton to the hospital.” His skin was nearly gray as he continued. “An overdose.”

“An over—” A heavy weight crashed down on his chest as Taggert struggled to take his next breath. His voice raspy, he asked, “Did they—”

“Dispatch said they took her in, but—” Mac shook his head. He closed his eyes and looked away. “It didn’t look good on the scene.”

Taggert wiped his hand over his mouth, the sourness rising into his throat, burning it as he forced himself to continue. “Was it—was it deliberate?”

“We don’t know. I sent a crime scene unit to the house.” Mac hesitated. “I thought about going to the hospital, but I’m the last person anyone in that family wants to see. I should—I should do this for the PCPD, represent them, but—” He met Taggert’s eyes. “I can’t ever forgive myself for putting my job above the people of this city. I should have told Floyd to go to hell and released that warning.”

“I wish I could blame you for keeping quiet, but we’ve all made our mistakes. We all have our collateral damage. How much longer did Carly Corinthos stay locked behind those walls because of our tunnel vision? I knew Ric Lansing was drugging his wife, and I let her stay in that house. How many people have I sacrificed because of Sonny Corinthos?”

Taggert shook his head. “Promise me, Mac, that it’s over. That we’re done putting politics and our own priorities above the people we promised to protect.”

“The next time Floyd tries to bury something to save himself, he’ll have to take my badge with it.” Mac paused for a long moment. “I need to tell my girls. I need to tell them before they hear it from someone else. Will you—”

“I’ll go to the hospital, but those parents aren’t going to want to see me either.” He slid his notebook into his pocket. “This is it. This is the last woman this shitbag gets to destroy. We won’t be able to nail him for murder, but—”

“He killed her all the same.”

Kelly’s: Dining Room

When Ned’s end of the line had gone dead, Elizabeth hadn’t been able to let go of her terrible feeling. She and Jason had both tried to call everyone who might know anything, but Monica was at the hospital working and Ned’s phone just went to voice mail. Jason told her he’d head to the hospital, while Elizabeth decided to track down Bobbie.

She went to Kelly’s, hoping Bobbie might be working on the account books, but the dining room was empty between the lunch rush and dinner hour—without school in session, Kelly’s was usually dead.

Elizabeth set her purse on the counter and sighed at Lucas doing the familiar side jobs she’d performed for the better part of five years. “Hey. Is your mother around? I’ve been trying to call her—”

Lucas finished filling the last sugar canister and set it on the counter. “No, she’s out somewhere with Scott Baldwin, and we have a really crappy cell phone company.” He tipped his head. “You okay?  You look upset—”

“I—I guess I’m just trying—” She bit her lip. “Have you talked to Brooke since she got out of the hospital?” She held up a finger as her phone started to ring. She frowned when she saw it was Emily. “Wait a second—Em?”

“Oh, thank God, you answered—Oh, it’s awful, Liz—Dad just called me, and I don’t even remember the last time he cried—”

“Emily, what’s going on—” Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around the phone as her heart sank. “Em—”

“Brooke—Ned—Lois—they found her—and the hospital—they couldn’t—” Emily’s words were coming out haltingly amidst with sobs. “She took her pain meds, but they think she took too many—Oh, God, Liz, she’s gone. It was too late—”

“Emily, are you alone right now?” Elizabeth stood up, almost as if prepared to head straight to the airport and get on a plane to be with her best friend. “Em—”

“Oh, yeah. No. No, I have someone here—I’m flying home tomorrow. Oh, God, Liz.”

She spoke to her another minute, getting assurance that Emily wouldn’t be alone for the rest of the day before closing her phone and looking at Lucas who wore a grim expression.  Should she tell him? Should she wait for someone else? Was it even her place?

“What is it?” he asked. “Is it Brooke? Liz, c’mon—”

“She…” Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. “Apparently Ned and Lois found her a little while ago—” Oh, God, that was why the phone had gone dead—they must have gone to check on her— “She’d taken her pain meds and—I’m so sorry, it was too late—”

Lucas stumbled back, shaking his head. “No. No, that’s not—” He shoved his hands through his hair, gripping strands of it. “We—we were there this morning. We wanted to check on her—I let her—I let her kick me out. I knew I should have stay—I didn’t want to leave her alone—”

He sank onto the ground behind the counter. Elizabeth went to him, knelt down beside him. “Hey. Hey, you couldn’t have known. Lucas—”

“I did know. I did. I knew how upset she was. I was the only one who really knew her at all, and I let her walk away. It’s my fault this happened. I invited her to the movies—I ignored her and didn’t realize—” His voice was panicked now, the words tumbling over themselves as they rushed out of his mouth like dominoes.

“She had a right to walk through that park,” Elizabeth said. She gripped his shoulder. “Lucas—if we had known there was a serial rapist in that park—of course she wouldn’t have walked alone.”

“She’s the only one who knew—” Lucas raised his eyes to her. Swallowed hard. “She knew me. She’s the only one I told, and I’m the one she told. And now she’s gone, and she can’t ever tell her family.”

“Tell them what?” Elizabeth ignored the pain in her chest as she shifted from her seated position. “Lucas—”

“I’m gay. And I told her, and she told me she was, too, but she didn’t have a chance—”

Her heart ached for him, this brave boy holding in all those secrets and the guilt— “She told me, too, Lucas. When I went to see her. I talked to her. And she told me, too.”

He exhaled slowly, let his head fall against the wall, his eyes closed. “She thought her parents would be okay with it, but it was like—thinking it might be okay isn’t the same thing as knowing, and it’s easier to lie to yourself than be honest with everyone else—”

“I’m sorry Brooke never got the chance to come out to her parents. To her family. It’s not your fault, Lucas. But I know how it feels to think about a moment in time you’d give anything to take back. To just make a different choice.”

“If I could just stop myself from giving a damn about Maxie’s idiot boyfriend. Why did I care so much about making sure he knew he wasn’t part of the group? I should have been thinking about Brooke. It was her first night—” He took a deep breath, scrubbed his hands over his face. “I have to go to Maxie and Georgie. Find Dillon. My mother—”

He stood up and frowned as Elizabeth struggled to stand as well. “Are you okay? I know you just got out of the hospital—”

She pressed a hand to her chest, took a deep breath, and was relieved when she felt her lungs expand. “No. I’m fine. Sometimes I can’t catch my breath—”

The bell above Kelly’s jangled as the door opened and someone Elizabeth didn’t know walked in—a boy around Lucas’s age with dark skin and kind eyes.

“Lucas. I was at the hospital—” He stopped short when he saw Elizabeth standing there and just stood, his hands awkwardly at his side.

“It’s okay.” Lucas squared his shoulders and looked at Elizabeth with a half-smile. “It’s okay. She knows. Elizabeth, this is my boyfriend, Felix DuBois. Felix, this is Elizabeth Webber, a friend of the family.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Elizabeth said. “You came because you heard about Brooke?”

“Yeah.” Felix closed the distance and joined them behind the counter. He touched Lucas’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“No, but I need to be for everyone else. I’m the one they depend on.” Lucas looked at his boyfriend, tears glinting in his eyes. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m going to go find Jason and your mother,” Elizabeth told Lucas. She kissed his cheek. “You have my number if you need anything. Felix, it was so nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Elizabeth left, but looked back through the windows when she was in the courtyard to find Lucas hugging Felix fiercely, his shoulders shaking as he cried.

Luke’s: Bar

For once, the three of them had been enjoying a rare day off from work—the first they’d had at the same time since they’d begun a month earlier. When the call had come, they’d been together, and later, Lucky was grateful for that. He wasn’t sure what Dante might have done if he’d been alone.

Luke’s was closed until the evening, so they’d spent the day playing poker, having a few drinks, playing pool—just relaxing for the first time in weeks. It was a good day—a day when they’d put the stress and horror of their first days on the job behind them and just remembered how good it was to be together, best friends working the same job.

Dante had just lifted a freshly opened bottle of Rolling Rock to his lips when his phone flashed. He frowned at it. “It’s my mom—she’s texting me 911 call me. Damn it—”

He hurried to return his mother’s call as Cruz and Lucky waited, worried about what Olivia Falconieri might tell her son. The call was short, no more than thirty seconds as Dante’s face turned a sickening gray. He promised his mother he wouldn’t drive after confirming he’d been drinking and would wait for her.

Then he closed his phone and held it in the palm of his hand.

“Dante,” Cruz said. “What’s going—”

“Brooke died.” Dante stared down at the phone. “An overdose. They don’t—” He shook his head. “They don’t know if it was an accident or—”

Or if Brooke had been unable to live with the pain of what had happened to her and the media circus surrounding her. Cruz and Lucky traded looks.

He set his phone on the table and lurched from the table where they’d been playing a hand of poker. He went to the bar and took down a bottle of Jim Beam, pouring himself a shot.

“It’s my fault,” Dante said. “I knew. We all knew there was a rapist out there and we shut our mouths and toed the line. And then I leaked the damn story—and they found her—”

“Someone else leaked Brooke’s name to take the heat off of them,” Lucky interrupted. He took the bottle from Dante, afraid his friend would just start pulling straight from it. He poured shots for himself and Cruz. “You leaked the story. The media decided to run with the name of a rape victim. Not you. You wanted to protect the public. I’m just sorry I didn’t leak it myself.”

“I should have checked on her more. Ma asked me to look out for her when Brooke moved here-”

“And our first day on the job, we got thrown a case where we all pulled double shifts,” Cruz reminded his roommate. “We’ve been on the job for a month, Dante. If we knew all the answers, we’d be in charge.” He looked at Lucky. “Right?”

“Right. And look, maybe we can’t—we can’t help Brooke anymore. That pisses me off. But the other women who were attacked—we can still help them. How many women did you already help by leaking the story?” Lucky asked. “We can do whatever is necessary to find this scumbag and make sure no one else goes through this.”

“It’s not going to be enough,” Dante muttered. He threw back another shot.

“Hey.” Lucky waited until his friend met his eyes. “When I was sixteen, I found one of my friends crawling out of the park bushes, bleeding, bruised, and—” He shook his head. “Destroyed.”

“Lu mentioned it. Elizabeth Webber? The Lansing case?” Dante grimaced. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Liz and I don’t—we’re not really close anymore. For a lot of reasons. But back then, I was one of the few people who knew. I had a front row seat to watch her put herself back together, but part of me always knew—I always knew it was my fault.”

“Lucky—” Cruz began but Lucky shook his head.

“We made plans to go to a dance. And I knew—” He squeezed his eyes shut because God, these were some of the few memories of Elizabeth he’d managed to uncover in the last week. He couldn’t remember the good times, couldn’t remember loving her yet, but he could remember this—the brutal flashes of her recovery and anguish. Had she ever thought about suicide? She’d never said, but maybe—

“I knew she had a crush on me, and I knew she saw it like a date. I didn’t see her that way, so when I had the chance to go with someone else, I backed out. And Liz lied about having another date, but I think part of me always knew it was a lie.” He dragged his hands out of his hair. “When she didn’t show up at the dance or at Kelly’s, I went looking for her. If I had been ten minutes earlier—if I hadn’t backed out—”

“You weren’t a cop, Lucky. You didn’t know there was a monster lurking in the shadows,” Dante cut in. “But okay. Okay.” He swallowed hard and bowed his head, lowering it to rest against the bar. “I get it. I can’t wallow in the regrets. I can’t change anything. I just need to make it better.” He exhaled slowly, a shaky breath. “We have to find this guy. We have to stop it from happening again.”

“Yeah.” Lucky dug out his cell phone as it began to ring. “Kelsey—”

“Oh, God. Did you—”

“Dante’s mother called him. We’re here at the bar. Where are you?”

“I’m—” He could hear her crying on her end of the line. “I’m at my apartment. I called Scott, but I don’t—he said there wasn’t anything we could do, but—”

“Hey, I’m gonna come get you, okay? Dante’s going to be with his family, but I’ll bring Cruz, and we’ll just—we’ll just sit together.” He saw Cruz nod. “There’s nothing any of us can do, so we’ll just do nothing together.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

He set the phone on the desk, then sighed. “If your family needs anything, Dante—”

“Thanks.” Dante scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s gonna destroy everyone back home. I don’t—” He looked at them. “We can’t let another family go through this.”

Port Charles Grille: Dining Room

Bobbie pushed her salad around her plate, stabbing at pieces of spinach and strawberries aimlessly. Scott wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it beside his plate, frowning at her. “What’s wrong? You’ve barely said a word since you got here-”

“What—” Bobbie blinked at him, then sighed. “Oh. I’m just…worried about…” She sat back in her chair, placing her fork at the side of her plate. “About Carly. And Sonny. How they’re getting back to normal. And with Elizabeth’s hearing coming up—”

“It should be a slam dunk to get the restraining order renewed,” Scott said, “but then again, that damn judge nearly let him stay in charge of her medical care because he’s a goddamn Puritan—” he grimaced. “I guess I should be relieved for once that Jason Morgan has his own personal security. I don’t need Lansing on the loose going after Elizabeth again.”

“I appreciate how you’ve handled this case, Scott. With both Elizabeth and Carly—they’re my family,” she told him. “And I know how much you loathe Sonny—”

“Yeah, well, the law is the law, and—I still think Corinthos is the scum of the earth, but—” he shrugged. “Morgan’s different. Where he is in his life—that’s not his fault. Corinthos took advantage of him when he didn’t know any better, and this is the only life he knows now.”

“I suppose.” Bobbie sighed. “I’m just—I’m worried about Carly. About them all. Jason and Elizabeth put themselves under such pressure to find Carly—Elizabeth knew how desperate he was, how much I wanted her found—and I know she stayed longer than she should have—”

“Yeah, Corinthos was a real stand-up asshole, wasn’t he? Letting everyone else do the work.” Scott scowled, leaning back as the waiter removed their salad plates. “Worried more about keeping himself out of jail.”

Bobbie hesitated, shook her head. “He wasn’t handling it well, Scott. I think it reminded him too much of what happened to Lily and you remember that she was pregnant.”

“Another one of his victims—” Scott frowned. “Not handling it how? What, did he drink himself into a stupor? You know, if your daughter had any sense, she’d walk out on him. He treats women like crap. I’m not even talking about Karen. What about what he did to Brenda and Lily? To Hannah Scott?”

“I just wish he’d talk to someone—I don’t want it happening again. The next time, it might not be so easy to bring him back to reality,” Bobbie said. She then pressed her lips together. “I shouldn’t get into it. You’re prosecuting Ric. Sonny might be a witness.”

“Right.” Scott’s phone, tucked in the pocket of his suit jacket, jangled. He reached for it and growled under his breath. “Mac Scorpio. His officers probably screwed something else up—” He flipped it open. “Baldwin.”

His brows drew together. “What? Say that again—how—Jesus. Ned and Lois—Okay. Okay. Yeah. I’ll—I’ll be in.” He stared at his phone for a long moment before gently closing it and setting it on the table.

“Scott—”

“I knew about the serial rapist. Did I tell you that?” Scott asked. He met Bobbie’s eyes and she was surprised by the way color had leeched from his skin, leaving his complexion almost chalk gray. “But I figured it was okay to keep it quiet because at least the PCPD had linked the cases, and I was gonna keep on top of them. We didn’t need any more bad publicity.”

“Was there another attack?” Her heart felt heavy, ached as she repeated her question. “Scott, did it happen again—”

“Brooke Lynn. She took all of her pain medication, and by the time Ned and Lois found her—it was too late.”

She pressed her hands against her mouth, stifling a sharp cry. “Scott—Oh, God. Was it—”

“They don’t know. It might have been an accident.” He dipped his head. “Those parents are going through the worst thing that could happen to them because I decided it would be bad for my office if people knew there was a serial rapist loose.”

“Scott—” Bobbie just shook her head. “I should go. I want to check on Lucas, on Maxie and Georgie.” She stayed seated for another moment. “But yes. You’re right. You and the PCPD nearly killed my daughter and Elizabeth because getting Sonny was more important to you. How many more women were attacked and raped because of the PCPD and Floyd? You let it happen.”

She got to her feet. “For all that you condemn Sonny and Jason for their crimes, I wish you’d look in the mirror. Those women didn’t matter to you anymore than Carly and Elizabeth did.”

General Hospital: Emergency Room

Ned was good in an emergency—he thought quickly and coolly under pressure. When his ex-wife had been sobbing, crying, rocking their daughter in her arms, Ned hadn’t broken down.

He had picked up the phone, called the authorities, and waited for them to arrive. He’d let them in, watched with an arm around Lois’s shoulder as they laid Brooke flat on the floor and attempted to resuscitate her. He could see the looks on their faces, understood the emotions and silent conversation the paramedics shared.

His daughter was gone, but they weren’t comfortable pronouncing it on the scene. No, a Quartermaine family member had to die in a hospital, declared by a doctor. By someone who could withstand the might of an enraged family.

They had forced a breathing tube down her throat, loaded her onto a stretcher, and then whisked her out of the room. Ned had taken Lois down to their car, not even noticing when his discarded cell phone crunched under his shoes.

He would have moved faster, would have broken the laws of physics to hurry to the hospital if he’d had even one ounce of hope that upon arrival, his daughter would be alive.

But he’d touched her skin. He’d seen the way her arms moved as Lois rocked her—dangling, without life.

He stood now, outside a cubicle, watching almost passively as Lois sobbed, as Monica embraced her, kept her from sinking to the floor. He felt Alan’s hand on his shoulder but said nothing. His mother tried to talk to him, but he ignored her.

There was nothing to say, nothing to feel.

He felt empty. He felt useless. Nothing in his life experience had ever really prepared him for this. He knew how to solve other people’s problems, navigate his family through their crises.

He simply did not have the toolset for his own misery.

“Ned?”

He blinked at the sound of his name and turned to find his best friends standing just behind him, Alexis’s face tear stained, Jax at her side, like a statue of stone. Neither of them approached him, just kept their distance.

He cleared his throat, looked around and found Lois now on the seats, still sobbing but her tears were silent, her shoulders trembling as Monica and Alan sat on either side of her. Tracy was talking to a shaken Edward near the doors.

He looked back at his friends. “She’s gone,” Ned managed. The words felt wrong. They didn’t seem as if he’d even said them. “My little girl.”

“We know. Alan called us.” Alexis took a gentle step forward, but still didn’t reach out towards him. “We don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing—” His throat closed. Something lurched inside of him, a flutter really. Nothing more than that. It began deep in his stomach, traveled through his lungs and up into his brain. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs squeezed as if they’d been clamped shut.

His knees failed him, and he sank to the ground, blinking rapidly as it finally seemed to hit.

His daughter, his bright, talented, shining beacon of good and light in this world—she was gone.

A hand rested on his back, between his shoulder blades. He looked to find Jax kneeling beside him as Alexis bent in front.

“She’s gone,” Ned repeated. “My daughter is dead.” The first tears slid over his eyelashes, down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. He felt the cool splash of them on the skin of his neck. “I can’t bring her back.”

“No,” Jax said. “You can’t.”

And somehow, that simple truth was all he needed to hear—Brooke Lynn was dead. And nothing Ned could do—all the power and might of his family, all the money and wealth in the world—

Nothing could change it. Nothing could make it not true.

He drew in a shuddering breath, squeezed his eyes shut and let Alexis finally embrace him, burying his face in her neck, feeling Jax’s arms close around him.

He could never bring her back. He could never turn back time and take away all the wrong he’d done in her life and the pain she’d suffered in the park.

But he could stop it from happening again. He could keep another family from being destroyed, another father or mother from feeling this devastation.

He was going to burn down every single person who had put themselves above the people they’d sworn to protect and make sure no one ever forgot Brooke Lynn’s name.

His daughter was gone.

And someone had to pay.

Condo: Living Room

Elizabeth was curled up on the sofa when Jason came back about an hour after she’d left Lucas at Kelly’s. He looked as exhausted as she felt. He dropped his keys on the table and sat next to her, tugging her into his arms, letting his chin rest on the top of her head.

“You stayed at the hospital for a while,” she murmured, closing her eyes as she let herself sink into the warmth and safety of his embrace. “I wanted to stop by, but I wasn’t sure—”

“I stayed for Monica. She’s always taking care of everyone else,” he told her. “But I figured she’d take it hard. She talked about Brooke a few times while you were in the hospital. Brooke was having a tough time after she moved here, and Monica said she’d tried to reach out to her.”

His fingertips trailed up and down her bare arm. “I talked to Emily. She’s flying in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, she called me. I was with Lucas Jones when she called. He was so upset—apparently he, Dillon, and Georgie had stopped by this morning and—” Elizabeth sighed. “Brooke pushed them away.” She tilted her head back to look at him. “Do they know—do they know if it was an accident?”

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Taggert came to the hospital to talk to Ned and Lois. They said they’d sent a crime scene unit, but there was no note. Just the bottle of pills. Empty. That doesn’t mean anything, but—”

“How are Ned and Lois? That’s a stupid question.” She shook her head. “They’re devastated. They’re probably blaming themselves. I blame myself. If I had been here to get that call—I thought about reaching out to her again—”

She appreciated when Jason didn’t immediately tell her she was wrong, only drew her closer again. She tucked her head into his neck, closing her eyes again. “I just—I remembered that I wanted to be alone and I always pushed everyone away. It took a while for me to even really tell Lucky what happened. I mean, he knew. He, Luke, and Bobbie—they all knew that first night, but I couldn’t say it. I wanted it not to have happened.”

Tears slid down her cheek, burning her skin. “I could pretend because no one else knew. Bobbie never told anyone. Luke and Lucky made me feel safe—Lucky always let me know I wasn’t alone. I was in my room one day—I hadn’t gone to school, and he just sat outside my front door, pounding on it for me to let him in. I didn’t. I couldn’t. But he was there, and I just—it made it okay. For a moment.”

“I’m glad you had that.”

“But Brooke couldn’t pretend. Everyone knew. Everyone looked at her, and I should have known that—” She stopped. Took a deep breath. “But I’m going through my own thing. That’s what Gail would remind me. A year ago, I could have thought about nothing but Brooke. But I’m still grappling with what Ric did to me. And it was easy to push Brooke’s trauma out of my head because mine took up so much space.”

“You did everything you could, everything you were capable of.” Jason’s fingers slid through her hair, letting the strands fall to her shoulders. “I’m sorry for Ned, for Lois. They were the first people after my accident that I could manage to be in the room with for more than five minutes. Them, then Lila. They made me feel normal.” He was quiet for a moment. “Monica asked if we’d come to a service at the house if they have one here. She said she’d understand if we didn’t—”

“I just want to do whatever is easier for Ned—I mean—he knows Brooke called me—”

“He won’t blame you, Elizabeth—” he hesitated. “I’ll have Monica put some feelers out. I get what you’re saying. But he won’t blame you.”

“I just want this all to stop. I want them to catch this guy. He may not have forced Brooke to take those pills, but God, Jason, he killed her. I hope he burns in hell.”

The first and final scenes have a trigger warning. The final scene also features music from Angel (Sarah McLachlan)

---

Don’t be mad if I cry
It just hurts so bad sometimes
Cause everyday it’s sinking in
And I have to say goodbye all over again
You know I bet it feels good to have the weight of this world
Off your shoulders now
I’m dreaming of the day when I’m finally there with you
– Save a Place for Me, Matthew West

---

Saturday, July 19, 2003

Gatehouse: Living Room

Telling her story, going through every detail—

It hadn’t helped.

Brooke was curled up in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in a thick cardigan, her legs drawn up under her chin. She had begged her parents to leave her alone. For just a few hours. To just give her some space. Since the moment she’d woken up in that terrible haze of pain in the hospital, she hadn’t been left alone for more than five minutes.

Everyone was staring at her. They knew. They all knew and they all probably thought it was her fault. Maybe she had smiled at the wrong guy, worn the wrong outfit…hadn’t she walked through the park late at night? In the dark?

Didn’t she have it coming?

She could still see her mother’s worried face, her father’s angry expression—they’d both tried to hide it, both had plastered fake smiles across their face. But then one of them would say something to set the other off, and then they’d be screaming at one another.

She couldn’t deal with it. Didn’t want to deal with it. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Everything hurt. Her jaw, her chest…

Between her legs.

She didn’t even know she was crying until the tears soaked through her sweater and hit her skin. Oh, God. It was never going to end. What did Elizabeth Webber say? It would get better one day?

Why couldn’t one day be today? Why couldn’t it all go away now?

She just wanted to sleep. She wanted to sink into dreams, where nothing but darkness waited but even that hadn’t kept out of the terror and pain. She just wanted it over.

There was a hesitant knock on the front door that Brooke nearly ignored, but she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts, and maybe it was Monica up at the main house. Monica had been kind, but not pushy. Probably had known what to do from listening to Elizabeth Webber, Brooke thought darkly as she struggled to her feet and headed for the door.

But it wasn’t her aunt at the door. It was her uncle, his girlfriend, and…Lucas. The trio of them looked worried, uncomfortable, nervous.

Doing the good Samaritan duty, Brooke thought but stepped back to let them in. “You come to gawk at the freak show?” she demanded, her voice laced with bitterness.

“No.” Dillon shoved his hands in his pockets, Georgie hovering just behind his shoulder while Lucas didn’t move far from the threshold. “We just—we wanted to wait a few days before we…”

“Came to visit?” Brooke demanded. She lifted her chin and sneered. “Well, take a look. Here’s the damaged victim. You’re no different than anyone else in the hospital. Another sad little girl raped in—” She broke off, bile rising in her throat as she turned away.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have all come,” Georgie murmured to Dillon. “Why don’t Lucas and I go? You can—”

“No, no.” Brooke turned back to them, flipping her hair over her shoulder.  She spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t need your kindness. I don’t need any of you. So just get out—”

“We’re going. Lucas—” Georgie touched her cousin’s shoulder, but Lucas shook his head.

“You and Dillon go, I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Dillon hesitated another moment, before swallowing and nodding. “I just want to do what you need me to do, Brooke. So, I’m going. I’m sorry.” He took Georgie’s hand and they left.

“You can go to,” Brooke muttered as she turned her back on Lucas and curled back up on the sofa. “You think because we had five minutes of being friends that I need you?”

“No,” Lucas said. He perched on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “I needed to say I was sorry. That I feel like this is my fault. I invited you. And you only left because we were—”

“Oh, God!” Brooke exploded. She shifted and shoved him back, sending Lucas tumbling off the table to the floor. “You came here because you feel guilty! Not one of you actually gives a damn about me! No one does! You didn’t even notice I was gone! If you had, if you’d come even five minutes earlier—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. I want you to get out.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas repeated. He got to his feet and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I came here to make myself feel better and that was selfish. If it makes you feel better to hit me, you—”

“Nothing makes it better!” she cried. She pushed him again, and he fell back a step. “Nothing is ever going to make it go away or not have happened. Everyone knows. It’s all they can think when they see me, do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“No,” he admitted. “Brooke—”

“Get out.”

And this time, Lucas listened though he waited another moment before he left, closing the door gently behind him.

Trembling, Brooke pressed her hands to her eyes. God. It all hurt, and she just wanted to sleep. To make it go away for a few hours. She stumbled into the bathroom and saw the bottle of pain medication that Tony Jones had sent home for her. Hadn’t he said one of the side effects was fatigue?

If she could…could just close her eyes, if she could just sink into the darkness…maybe the pills could keep the demons from chasing her in her dreams, making her wake up in a cold sweat, still lying on her back in the park…

Looking into his face…

Because, oh, God.

She knew that face.

It had to go away.

She had to make it go away.

Condo: Living Room

Elizabeth scowled as she stepped back inside the apartment, kicking the door closed behind her with her foot as she stared down at the paper. “You know, maybe I should have sued the PCPD.” She handed it to Jason who was sipping his coffee at the table by the window. “Clearly they didn’t get the point before.”

Jason scanned the headline. “It’s another story about the attacks in the park.” He cleared his throat, set it on the table. “I thought that was leaked a few days ago…when Ned’s daughter was attacked.” He shifted in his seat.

“Yeah, the dates of the attacks but not the details.” She flicked the paper. “How did they not know it might be the same guy?” She picked up the paper and scanned it again. “It looks like they never even bothered to send out the rape kits after the first two. I can’t believe they’re still pulling the same crap they did on my case.”

Jason furrowed his brows, set his mug on the table, and leaned forward. “I thought you said they didn’t go forward because Baker denied making the confession.”

“Yeah, well…” Elizabeth bit her lip. “They said they couldn’t send my rape kit for testing without a suspect, and then when…after he was arrested, they finally did. Or at least that’s what Mac told me when I called after Taggert closed my case. They said it came back inconclusive. I never asked anything else. I didn’t want to know anything else. I mean, Baker confessed. He was going to prison for what he did to Emily.” She sighed and leaned back. “It just seemed insane to me then that they would refuse to test without a suspect. How do you even get a suspect if you don’t find the DNA? And how could that still be the policy all these years later?”

She got to her feet and wandered back into the kitchen to make herself another cup of tea. “I guess it’s a good sign that I can read that story and talk about my case without freaking out.”

“Yeah.” Jason stared down at the paper she’d left behind and wondered. If Baker hadn’t done it, if those kits had never been processed…what if they were now and came back to link with Elizabeth’s case?

What if Tom Baker hadn’t been lying and this scumbag was still active, nearly six years later? He glanced at her, took a deep breath. He needed to think about this. He didn’t want those other girls going through what Elizabeth had, but he didn’t exactly trust the Port Charles Police Department to take what he might know seriously or not to throw him in jail for meeting with Baker.

And Elizabeth had made it clear that she did not want to know the contents of Baker’s letter or the visit. Jason had already hurt her once putting himself first; he wasn’t going to do it again. But maybe he could still do something that would encourage the police to look into their cold files.

“So, what’s your plan today?” Elizabeth asked, settling across from him with a smile on her lips, looking brighter and happier than she’d looked in days. He put away the dark thoughts and returned the smile.

“Well, I was thinking of taking a ride up through the foothills,” Jason said. He arched a brow. “You know anyone who might want to join me?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

“Great. I just have to make a call before we go.”

Kelly’s: Courtyard

“Lois,” Jax said, his voice taking on a tone even Ned knew would piss off his ex-wife. “Ned isn’t suggesting that suing the PCPD is going to make Brooke’s situation better—”

“Going after people and making them pay—that’s all he ever knows how to do,” Lois snapped, slapping her hand over the newspaper and glaring at Ned. “If he had been a better father, a better husband, we wouldn’t be in this position—”

“And if you hadn’t expected me to change into a completely different man after we got married the second time,” Ned said, through clenched teeth, “we wouldn’t be here. You keep making me pay for something I can’t change—”

“You don’t want to change,” Lois snarled. She leaned forward, her teeth bared. “If you had paid one ounce of attention to our daughter instead of the new one, then maybe Brooke wouldn’t have been alone in that park—”

“It was your bright idea to send her here. You told me I had to set boundaries. I took away her phone. I made her get a job. She was making friends—” Ned threw up his hands. “You didn’t want her in New York. You made that clear. All I want to do is make sure what happened to Brooke never happens again—”

Olivia, still silent, cleared her throat. “I think Lois has a point, Ned—”

“Oh, great. Here comes the reasonable, rational Olivia to bail him out again. You know what, Liv?” Lois demanded as she got to her feet and shoved her purse strap over her shoulder. “You understand him so much, you should marry him.”

She stomped out of the courtyard. With a sigh, Jax followed.

“All she does is yell at you,” Ned said, dryly. “Why exactly are you friends again?”

Olivia sighed and shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. Her ma is my godmother, my ma is her godmother. We’re god sisters. Or so I’ve been told my whole life.” She shifted, uncomfortable. “Listen, you know Lois. She’s a pitbull. Her baby has been hurt and she can’t make it go away. I mean, isn’t that what you’re doing? Going after anyone who might be held accountable because it’s all you can do?”

“I’m not wrong,” Ned insisted. He tapped the headline. “Someone has to pay for this asinine decision. Not running rape kits? Not warning the women of this city that a serial rapist was on the loose? This isn’t even the first time this summer that the PCPD has nearly gotten a woman killed. They leaked a story that ended up with a woman getting attacked by her husband—” He shook his head. “That department is a cesspool.”

“I get you, but it looks like everyone already knows that. It’s in the papers.” Olivia shrugged. “How does suing them change anything?  That’s your answer because you’re a businessman, but it’s not going to do anything.”

“Maybe. It’ll make me feel better,” Ned muttered. He sighed. “But that’s not the point, is it? Going after the papers for leaking her name, after the police for screwing up—it’s not going to change anything. I can’t turn back time.”

“You should go home and be with your kid. Brooke may want alone time, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be in the house, ready if she needs you.” Olivia sighed. “I’m sure Lois is already on her way there and I bet it’d be nice if the two of you didn’t yell and scream with Brooke in the room.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Floyd slapped the Herald down on Mac’s desk. “Who the hell is telling these reporters all of this?” he demanded with a growl.

Taggert leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out in front of him, and crossed his ankles. “I did.”

The mayor glared at him. “Under whose authority? I never agreed to release any more details—”

“You didn’t agree to release any details at all,” Mac interrupted with some heat. He got to his feet and leaned over his desk, planting his hands on the desk. “That’s what got us into this damn mess—you trying to protect your election—”

He looked at Vinnie, slouched next to Taggert. “And why the hell didn’t you bring this to my desk? Once you had a third attack in the same location with same type of victim—”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vinnie retorted, not moving a muscle. “Maybe it’s because up until five minutes ago, I was investigating every goddamn crime in this city while everyone else was chasing after Corinthos and Morgan. I missed it. You think that makes me happy?”

“First your guy Capelli nearly gets Elizabeth Webber killed, and now this incompetent jackass misses the mark on—”

“You told us not to release the story,” Taggert interrupted. He looked at Mac. “I came to you with this link before the granddaughter of this town’s most prominent family was brutally attacked and raped. I begged you. But you refused.” He shoved himself to his feet. “You interfere with this case again, Floyd, and I will walk. I’ll turn in my badge, I’ll walk out of this building and straight over to Jessica Mitchell to give her an exclusive interview—”

“I’ll see that you never work in law enforcement again,” Floyd retorted, but Taggert only smirked.

“You’ll have already lost the election in a scandal. I’m not worried about your leverage—”

“Let’s just—” Mac took a deep breath. He stood up and held his hands out. “Let’s just take a deep breath here. We missed this. Departmental policy, lack of officers, whatever the reason. We’re not going to get anywhere by screaming at each other.” He looked at Vinnie. “You should have said you were overworked, but I’m not recommending any discipline be taken. Your case load has been cut in half and you’ve been reassigned. I think that should satisfy everyone.”

Vinnie scowled. “I swear if he tries to throw me under the bus about these damn cases—”

“The last thing the mayor wants to do with the deadline for candidates to declare themselves so close is talk more about how the PCPD under his care screwed up cases,” Mac said, looking pointedly at Floyd who glowered back at him. “From now on, you bring your complaints to me, Floyd. You don’t talk to my men.” He hesitated. “And you don’t give orders on cases. Ever again.”

Something passed between the two men that Taggert didn’t quite understand. He frowned—there was something there he didn’t know. But for now, Mac was on his side and he wasn’t going to question it. “Great. Glad we understand. You go run Port Charles, Floyd. Let me catch this sick son of a bitch.”

“Whatever you have to do,” Floyd said, his jaw clenched. “Any test. Any budget request. The city council has declared a public emergency. Get this case solved and out of the newspapers.” He stormed out of the office.

“What a dick,” Vinnie muttered as he followed a few minutes later.

Left alone, Taggert looked at Mac with a sigh. “We’ve got a problem, Mac. Brooke Lynn Ashton’s statement…” He grimaced. “I don’t think…I don’t think this guy just started this year.”

“Oh. Hell.” Mac sank back into his chair and put his head in his hands. “Why? I haven’t read the statement yet.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t—I can’t stop thinking about Maxie and Georgie being there. How it might have been one of them—” He exhaled slowly. “What makes you think there are other cases besides the four we have?”

“The location,” Taggert admitted. “The victim profile. And the fact that…” He paused. “Brooke said her attacker grabbed her from behind, dragged her back into the bushes and handcuffed her. He only said one thing to her.” His stomach clenched. “He said ‘not a word.’” He saw the realization slowly dawn on Mac’s face. “You remember the case.”

“I—” Mac sat back. “Of course. It ended up—it was a big trial.” He met Taggert’s eyes. “But we got that guy. We closed that case. Baker confessed, even if we couldn’t prove it.”

“Maybe. Maybe there’s something we don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that four young women with dark hair have been attacked at fountains in the park, Mac. The first one we know about is in February.” He shook his head. “Maybe Baker talked to someone in prison who got inspired. Maybe he had an accomplice.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “God, I wish her rape kit had come back positive for something. Maybe if we ran it again—” He looked at Mac. “Can I pull her case out of cold storage?”

“I—” Mac exhaled slowly. “Are you sure you want to drag it up? I mean, I understand why you think it might be connected, but if you pull it out and it turns out it’s not related—I think this department has put that woman through enough.” He shook his head. “After nearly dying, she’s still got the case against Lansing to deal with.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. I just—I can’t forget the way she looked when I told her we had to close the case.” Taggert rubbed the back of his neck. “What about looking for other priors? Our cases prior to 2001 haven’t been put on computer yet. Can I send the rookies down to look at cold storage? You’re right. I don’t want to put Elizabeth through opening her case again unless I have something better than a phrase.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good.” Mac nodded. “I hope we don’t find anything, but I agree with you that it’s better safe than sorry. Ah, Scott Baldwin already requested a copy of our open files. Maybe you can check with him to see if he’s already done the legwork.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

Taggert returned to his desk and stared down at his notes, tapping his fingers. He knew he’d just been told to leave the Webber case alone, but something about Mac’s expression troubled him. Maybe there was something he didn’t know. And hell, if he didn’t tell the rookies to leave her case alone, they would pull it from cold storage on their own.

He just wanted one more look at the file. He wanted to be sure that the man who had attacked Elizabeth was Tom Baker. After the last few weeks, he owed her that much.

He flipped through the phone messages that had been left on his desk during the meeting. He frowned when he came to the last one, left just ten minutes earlier. From the hot line — an anonymous caller suggesting that the PCPD should link into cold cases of rapes in the park.

He stared at it, then exhaled slowly. Maybe a victim who didn’t want to come forward officially. It just convinced him he was right to send the rookies to storage. And if, for what reason, they didn’t pull Elizabeth Webber’s file, he would.

Condo: Parking Garage

Jason pulled the bike into the parking spot next to her battered Nissan and switched off the engine. Elizabeth was still laughing as she swung her leg over the back of the bike and pulled off her helmet. “That was even better than I remembered,” she said as he parked the bike and set her helmet on the back. She leaned up to kiss him, sliding her fingers through his hair.

“I’m glad you had fun. You’re not mad because I wouldn’t let you drive?” he asked when they parted. Jason rubbed his thumb against her bottom lip.

“No. Monica barely lets me take my own car around town. I’m not ready to drive your bike on those cliff roads.” Elizabeth smirked. “I will be, before you know it.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ll be ready to do a lot of things soon.” She rose on her toes and kissed him again, pressing herself tightly against him.

He groaned and pulled away from her. “That’s not fair.”

She giggled, then reached for her purse where he’d stowed it in one of the side compartments. She dug out her phone and went through her messages. A few voice mails—Bobbie, Emily, even Nikolas—but her final one, left almost an hour ago, had her frowning.

“Brooke Lynn Ashton called me.”

Jason leaned back against the bike. “You think she wants to talk again?”

“I hope so.” Elizabeth pressed play and put the phone against her ear.

The storm keeps on twisting
Keep on building the lies

“Elizabeth…” Brooke’s voice sounded tired, even slightly slurred. “I just…I wanted to ask you why it never stops. Why can’t I close my eyes? Why doesn’t he ever go away.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth murmured, pressing her fingers to her lips. “I missed—”

That you make up for all that you lack
It don’t make no difference

“He’s always there. When I’m awake. When I’m asleep. I wish I had never—why did I wake up—I didn’t feel anything before I…it was better when I didn’t know. I wish I didn’t know. I wish no one knew. But they all…do…they all stare at me…they’re all sorry for me…the sad little girl…who…got…and…then I remembered…oh, God…I remembered what he did to me…I remembered…”

Escape one last time
It’s easier to believe in this sweet madness

Brooke’s voice faded away and then the message ended. Elizabeth took a deep breath and stared at her phone for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what she’d heard.

Oh, this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees

“Elizabeth—”

“Do you have Ned’s number?” she demanded. She grimaced, looking through her contacts. “I think someone should check on her. I just—I have—” She looked at Jason. “I have this terrible feeling, Jason.”

He took out his own phone, glanced through his contacts, and grimaced. “No. But Emily or Monica will have it—let me call them.”

In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here

Gatehouse: Entrance

Ned pulled into the driveway just behind Lois and got out of his car. but it was almost a minute before his ex-wife stepped out of hers. When she did, she stopped at the garage door, and they stared at one another for a long moment, the sounds of the trees rustling around them.

From this dark, cold hotel room

“I know you love Brooke,” Lois said quietly, her face withdrawn. “I know you feel as helpless as I do. It’s easier to yell at you. To make this your fault.” She swallowed hard. “It’s not your fault. It’s not mine. I just—” Tears slid down her cheeks, and despite all the time and the anger that had created that gulf—it still decimated Ned to see this strong woman break.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed, her voice breaking into a sob.

And the endlessness that you fear

“I know.” Ned rounded the car and for the first time since she’d arrived, he drew her into a hug. “We’re just stumbling in the dark, hoping we’ll figure it out. And we can scream and yell at each other, but we have to stop around Brooke. We have to put her first.” He shook his head. “We have to be people she can depend on.” He drew away and tucked her hair behind her ears before gently kissing her forehead. “We’re better than this, Lois.”

You are pulled from the wreckage

“You’re right.” Lois managed a smile for him. “Let’s go in and check on her. I know she wanted some time alone, but—”

“I want to be near if she needs us,” Ned finished. His phone rang. He tugged it from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and looked at the caller id screen. “It’s Elizabeth Webber,” he murmured with a frown.

“She’s the one that tried to talk to Brooke?” Lois asked. She patted his chest. “You take that. I’ll go in and check on my baby.” She disappeared up the front walk while Ned flipped open his phone.

Of your silent reverie

“Elizabeth?” Ned greeted. “Hello—”

“I’m sorry to bother you, and it’s probably nothing. I had my phone turned off for a while and Brooke called me about an hour ago. She sounded…tired. And really upset.” He could hear her voice shaking as his heart dropped down into his stomach.

“An hour ago?” Ned repeated.

“She trailed off and the message just ended—I’m afraid—”

From inside the house, he heard a blood-curdling scream. His phone dropped to the ground as Ned ran.

You’re in the arms of the angel

He took the steps two at a time, the railing shaking under his weight as he all but flew up to the second floor and down the hall where Lois’s screams had been replaced by sobbing, deep heart-rending cries, repeating Brooke’s name over and over again.

He found her sitting on Brooke’s bed, their daughter in her arms as Lois rocked back and forth. Brooke’s eyes were closed, and her arms were lying limply at her side.

Lifeless.

May you find some comfort here

“Wake up, baby, wake up—”

On the ground, next to Brooke’s bed, a phone receiver sat, the dial tone relentless and jarring, a bottle of prescription pills next to it.

Empty.

You’re in the arms of the angel

Almost in a daze, Ned gently hung up the phone, then picked it up to dial 911, not taking his eyes off his daughter. Cradling the receiver between his shoulder and face, he reached out a hand to touch her cheek and a shudder ripped through his body.

She was cold.

They were too late.

May you find some comfort here

Come and see him when she is gone
He’s surprised but knows he is wrong
A simple case of do or die
And now she’s cut and run
Your vision let you down
You almost let her drown
– Liberty, Olive

---

Friday, July 18, 2003

Corinthos & Morgan Warehouse: Main Floor

Bernie had called Sonny just past dawn, passing on a report from a concerned night shift manager. He didn’t have a lot of the details, but something was wrong with Jason—he wasn’t hurt, Bernie said, but Sonny was needed.

So Sonny dragged himself out of bed, murmured something to a sleeping Carly, and came over to the warehouse at six in the morning to find a cluster of his men talking just inside the large bay doors that led to the dock out on Lake Ontario.

He followed their concerned looks and frowned, spying a familiar set of shoulders lifting coffee sacks out of crates and handing them off to the next worker. When was the last time Jason did grunt work in the warehouse?

“How long has he been out here?” Sonny asked. “He looks like hell.”

“Since last night,” Max Giambetti murmured. “The foreman said he was in his office all night going over books and then came out here around three in the morning.”

Sonny sighed and crossed the floor. “Jason—”

“I’m busy.” Jason reached for another sack, but the employee who had been handing them to him was standing with his hands at his side. Sonny had signaled him to stop work. “Sonny—”

“Take a walk with me. The guys got this.”

And Jason followed—not because he wanted to, but because Jason would never countermand an order in front of the men, warehouse or organization. Sonny was in charge, and Jason followed him.

Wordlessly, Sonny led Jason outside, to the pier that set out over the lake. His back to the muddy brown water, Sonny raised a brow. “You suddenly have a hankering for back breaking work on no sleep?”

Up close, Jason looked even worse. His eyes were red, nearly blood shot. His hair was sticking in all directions, his jaw was shaded with a day-old beard. And his t-shirt was wrinkled as if he’d worn it the day before.

“What’s going on, Jase?” He hesitated. “Is Elizabeth okay?” Ah, there it was. The flicker in Jason’s eye. “You tell her about Baker?”

All Jason offered was a short nod. “Just that I went to see him. I never got a chance to say the rest—she was upset—”

“She’ll get past it,” Sonny said, but he was unsure. Jason’s relationship with Elizabeth was fragile, still in the rebuilding phases. Even a light blow could knock it back to its foundations. “I’m sorry it shook out like that.”

“It’s…” Jason rolled his shoulders. “It’s fine.”

“Jason.” Sonny tilted his head. “I know Elizabeth. I know you. You’re not fine.”

Jason hesitated, pressed his lips together, looked away across the lake where Spoon Island rose out of the water, towering over the western landscape. “She threw me out. She cried.”

His tone was even, the sentences short and choppy. Sonny knew that Jason had said it in the order in which it mattered. He was upset Elizabeth had thrown him out, but making her cry—

But all Sonny did was nod.  “Okay. Well, I’m sorry for that. Give her some time, some space. Why don’t you take off for the day? Get some sleep?”

“Can’t. Can’t sleep. Don’t—” Jason swallowed. “If I stop, I think. And I don’t want to think about it.”

“Okay. Well, I’d rather you not be around heavy machinery so if you need something physical to do, Bernie’s been bitching about reorganizing the storage room. He’s in his office.”

“Okay.” Jason disappeared back inside, and a moment later, Max emerged, his expression still worried. “He okay, Boss?”

“I don’t know,” Sonny admitted. “I guess we’ll have to see.” He rubbed his neck. “Give Bernie a call. See if he can talk Jason into going home in an hour or two. He might do it if it comes from someone else.”

And if Jason didn’t go home by the end of the day, if he didn’t get some sleep, Sonny might have to do something more drastic. He didn’t think Jason had slept more than a handful hours since that damn letter from Tom Baker had arrived.

Something needed to be done.

General Hospital: Gail’s Office

She hadn’t had an appointment scheduled with Gail that day, but she must have sounded terrible on the phone because Gail’s secretary had penciled her in for Gail’s lunch hour. And now, sitting in front of her grandmother’s friend, Elizabeth didn’t know what to say to her.

How to explain any of it. How what Jason had done seemed like the worst thing he could have done to her. She was in the process of divorcing an actually abusive sociopath who had nearly killed her, and yet…

“Why don’t you simply start at the beginning, dear?” Gail asked as she handed Elizabeth a glass of water. She did not take her seat on her chair, but rather stayed next to her on the sofa. “Just tell me what happened yesterday. Hilda said you were upset this morning. That you’d had a panic attack last night?”

“Panic attack,” Elizabeth repeated, closing her eyes. “That’s what Monica said. Jason called her after—but yeah. I—I don’t even know where the beginning is, because when I try to explain it to myself, I don’t understand it. How did it—How did it happen—why did something—he didn’t even tell me—” She sipped her tea, more to stop the babbling flow of nonsense than from thirst.

“What did you do yesterday?” Gail asked. “Was Jason the only person you spoke to?”

“No.” Elizabeth sighed. “No.” She set the tea on the table in front of them and clasped her fingers in her lap. “Ned asked me to talk to his daughter. To just…give her advice. And so I did. And I tried—I tried to be honest with her, but I feel like I messed it up. I didn’t—I didn’t really know what to tell her. And I guess talking about it…with what we’ve been doing in here about what happened with Ric—” She squeezed her eyes shut until she almost felt dizzy. “The fact that Ric basically raped me God knows how many times thanks to the pills—”

She pressed a fist to her mouth. “It’s hard to say it out loud, but I need to. But with Brooke being attacked in the park, with that newspaper article about the other attacks, and the letter from…” Elizabeth opened her eyes and leaned back against the sofa, suddenly exhausted. “It wasn’t even what happened with Jason. Not really. Or it wasn’t just that.”

“And what happened with Jason?”

“He didn’t just read the letter.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “He went to see Baker. I still—I still don’t know what he said. I don’t want to know. But he went to see him, and it’s—it’s what’s been bothering him. I guess. He knew how upset I’d be but even I didn’t—” She met Gail’s kind eyes. “He took out the letter and that’s all it was. He just took it out of his pocket, put it on the coffee table, and I—I flipped out.”

She pressed her hands to her face. “I was in the park. I could literally feel the snow on my skin and how cold it was that night. The sound of his heavy breathing, the weight of him on top of me, inside—” Her voice broke. “I could hear Lucky’s voice—God, if he ever knew how close he was—he’d never forgive himself. I just—I was in that moment again, Gail. Being raped again. It was like living in a nightmare while still being awake, and I couldn’t make it go away. I couldn’t make it stop. I know I was screaming, and Jason tried to help me— I scratched him—”

Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet, too restless to stay in one place. She paced the small room, stopping by the window that overlooked the park. She couldn’t see the fountain from here, but that didn’t even matter. “When I came back to myself, and I saw Jason standing there, I—couldn’t stand it. I blamed him. It was like he’d—God, it was like he’d raped me. Just like Ric. Just like Tom. And that’s insane, because all he did was take out a fucking letter—”

Her voice broke again and this time, Elizabeth couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the sobs bubbling up and breaking free. She wrapped her arms around her torso, her shoulders shaking. “I threw him out. I told myself and him I couldn’t trust him.”

“Elizabeth.” Gail’s voice was closer now and Elizabeth opened her eyes to see her therapist standing in front of her. “Do you really think it happened because of a letter?”

“I—” Elizabeth shook her head, her chest heaving. She shook it again. Struggled to get out the words. “No. No. It was just—it was the last piece. I hadn’t really—I guess I haven’t really dealt with any of it. I keep thinking I have, but I keep falling apart. When does it stop? When do I get to stop having to start all over again?”

She scrubbed her hands over her face. “It’s stupid for me to think Jason and I could work right now. I am a complete disaster and he deserves someone who isn’t certifiably insane.” She turned back to the window, rubbing a fist over her heart. It was the right thing to do. To let him go. She knew that.

“Maybe you’re not in a position to be in a new relationship,” Gail allowed as she came to stand next to Elizabeth. “But is that why you’d step back from him now? Because you’re not ready?”

“No.” Elizabeth’s breath was shaky. “No. But he’s…there’s no way…he thinks I’m strong. And I’m not. And when he figures it out—”

“He’ll leave you,” Gail said when Elizabeth broke off abruptly. “So you’re planning to leave first.”

“Just like last year,” Elizabeth murmured. She closed her eyes. “God. Why do I do that? Why is it so easy for me to walk away from Jason? I stuck with Ric. With Lucky. When I shouldn’t have. But at the first sign of trouble with Jason, I’m right out the door. What is wrong with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s quite the question I would pose to myself, but I think maybe that should be your homework this time.” Gail touched her shoulder. “And remember what we talked about before. You’ve been through a lot these few months. And this is coming from the woman who has known you your entire life, Elizabeth. I remember you running down these halls, hoping your grandfather would chase you, hiding from your parents who wanted to take you back to Colorado.”

Elizabeth laughed, despite her tears. “I always begged them to let me stay here. With Gram and Gramps. They knew me. They loved me. They never wanted me to be anyone else.” She exhaled slowly. “The thing is…I’ve never understood why he would stay. Why would he want me?” she said softly. “After everything I’ve done to him, Gail, and God, it’s been legion. I’ve never done anything except hurt him. Why does he still want me? Why can’t he just…” Her throat burned. “And if he does really want me, he won’t stay. Something will blow it up. Something will go wrong.”

“Something?”

“I’ll do something awful to make him go away.” She used the heel of her hand to swipe at the tears. “I always do.” She laughed bitterly. “I did it last night. I threw him out. It’s not even the first time I’ve hurt him.”

“Oh?”

“I believed Lucky when he said Jason hurt him. I walked away from him—I was so angry with him. And he offered me the world, and I said no.”

“Why?”

“I—” Elizabeth stared at her. “I couldn’t walk away from Lucky. Lucky never walked away from me, and he needed me. I had to see him through that. And then Jason…he went. And he was gone by the time I realized that—And then Zander…” She looked away. “I just…I’m in love with him, and I think he loves me, too. But I can’t believe it. Because I don’t deserve it.”

Gail glanced at her clock. “We only have a few more moments, and I have another appointment, or I would keep you here.” She leaned forward. “So, let me leave you with this. I can’t make you feel like you deserve love. I wish I could flip a switch—that it were that easy. But you are loved. And you are worth it. So, if you really want to know why he’d want you, then you should ask him.”

PCPD: Conference Room

Ned braced Brooke’s elbow as his daughter gingerly lowered herself into a chair across from Lieutenant Taggert and the lawyer lady who had introduced herself as Kelsey. Brooke had only checked out of the hospital a few hours earlier, and Ned had wanted her to wait, but—

She just wanted this over with. She wanted to move on with her life and to stop thinking about this. She’d told her mother to wait back at the gate house, exhausted by her parents and their constant arguing. She didn’t want to go back to Brooklyn with her mother, but she didn’t want to stay here either.

She didn’t know what she wanted.

Except for all of this to just go away.

“We appreciate you coming in, Miss Ashton,” Kelsey said quietly. “We’d like to tape this to make sure your statement is taken accurately. Would you—would you prefer if I took the statement alone or—”

“You mean do I want to talk about being raped in front of my father and a guy cop?” Brooke demanded. She clenched her hands into fists on the table. “Look, he’s gonna hear it. And the way this place works, everyone is gonna read it in the papers, so I don’t care. I just want to answer your questions and then I want you to leave me alone. I’m only doing this because—”

She took a deep breath. Forced herself to breathe more slowly. “Because Elizabeth Webber told me not reporting it as soon as possible was a big regret for her, and I guess—I guess I don’t wanna look back and wish I had done it better.

“So I’m gonna tell you what I remember and then I’ll try to answer any of your questions. But after that, I don’t want to deal with it again, okay?”

“Okay.” Kelsey leaned back and looked at Taggert before looking at Brooke’s father, who hadn’t taken a seat yet. “So, let’s get started.”

Harborview Towers: Hallway

Elizabeth managed a smile for Max who knocked lightly on the door before opening it and announcing her. Sonny was standing by his minibar, a bourbon in his hand. He glanced at her briefly before taking a sip and looking back at the collection of bottles and glasses.

“Hey. I’m—I hope it’s okay I stopped by. Max said Courtney wasn’t here, so—”

“I haven’t seen Jason since this morning,” Sonny told her. He finished his drink, then poured another. “You want anything?”

“No.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I stopped by his place and called him, but he didn’t pick up.” She shifted from one foot to another, feeling uncomfortable. Sonny wasn’t exactly being all that welcoming, and it was a stark shift in how he had treated her since Carly’s kidnapping.

She might as well not even be in the room. He’d treated her this way last year, just before he faked his death and the lying began.

“Well, can you blame him?” Sonny shrugged. “He tries to look out for you, feels bad about not telling you, and you rip his head off when he tries to be honest?” He snorted, took another drink. “I mean, you want honesty, don’t you, Elizabeth? Isn’t that what that crap was about last year?”

She blinked at him, took a step back. “I—yes. It’s—” She took a deep breath. “That’s why I’m looking for him. I need to talk to him. To explain—”

“To explain why you threw him out after everything he’s done for you this last month?” Sonny demanded. He looked at her again and she frowned at him. She didn’t recognize that strange light in his eyes. “I told him to stay out of it. To lie to you. Looks like I was right. You know what your problem is, Elizabeth?”

She folded her arms and arched a brow. “No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”

“You’re just a kid. That’s the problem.” He threw back the rest of his drink. Poured another. And this time, his hand trembled slightly. “You run from your problems. As fast as you can. As soon as things get hard, you run away.”

“That’s not true—”

“Oh, you want credit because you stuck with Lucky Spencer until he slept with your sister?” Sonny sneered. “You were punishing yourself. For whatever the hell you did to Jason that sent him out of town last year.”

“Last year—” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Sonny, Jason left in 2001. Two years ago. He’s been back a year.” Her ire fading, she stepped forward. “Are you…okay?”

“What?” He blinked at her. Cleared his throat. “What?”

“Jason came home last year,” Elizabeth said gently. “After he thought Carly had died in that car accident. He came home and he almost married Courtney.”

“I—” Sonny swallowed hard. Shook his head. “I know that. Why are you—” He looked around the room, looked down at the glass in his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s sit down.” Elizabeth took him by the elbow and led him to the sofa where they both sat down. She was not at all comforted by the fact that Sonny followed her. “I know you had some…when Carly was gone, you—”

“Went crazy,” Sonny muttered, digging the heels of his palm into his eyes. “I thought I was talking to Lily. And then I was—I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” He set the bourbon glass on the table. “I should stop drinking. It makes it worse. I lose track of time.” He met her eyes. “I’m sorry. I had no right to talk to you like that.”

“I know that I hurt Jason,” Elizabeth said carefully. “And I know you’re protective of him. He’s not answering my calls which tells me how much I hurt him. He’s almost smothered me since I got sick. But he hurt me, too, Sonny.”

“I know.” Sonny took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was—you know I think the world of you. I don’t—you’re not—Damn it.”

“Hey.” Elizabeth touched his elbow. “Have you talked to someone—”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone,” Sonny retorted. He shook her hand off and got to his feet. “I know better than to drink. That’s all. It’s not good for me. It just brings back a lot of stuff and I lose track of time.”

She bit back a protest. “Okay. Okay.” She stood up. “Well, I need to find him. So, if you see him, please let him know.”

“I’m really sorry, Elizabeth.” Sonny followed her to the door. “I don’t—”

“It’s okay, Sonny. I’ll talk to you later.”

She managed to extract herself from the penthouse, then offered a few words to Max before getting on the elevator. As soon as the doors slid closed, she pulled out her cell phone and pressed Bobbie’s number on her speed dial.

The Cellar: Office

“Mama?” Carly set her contracts aside and struggled to stand up when her mother appeared in the doorway of her office. “I didn’t know you were coming by—”

Bobbie kissed her cheek and let her daughter lead her to the sofa. “Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but I got a call from Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth?” Carly bit her lip. “Oh, man, did Jason finally tell her?”

“What?” Bobbie shook her head. “Tell her what? No, she called—” She hesitated. “Though that might explain why she was at Sonny’s if she’s trying to find Jason.” She’d track that story down later. Right now, there was something more important to worry about. “She said she was talking to Sonny and he forgot where he was. Or what year it was.”

Carly sighed, leaned back against the sofa, and rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. That’s…that’s not the first time. He had the breakdown while I was gone, and then my first day home, he thought it was 1999 and demanded to know why I was in his house. He couldn’t remember how old Brooke Lynn Ashton was. Did Elizabeth tell you any details?”

“Just that he thought it was last year and that Jason hadn’t come home yet. She said she was able to bring him back around, but—” Bobbie clenched her hands in her lap. “Are you telling me that Sonny is regularly losing track of time and place?”

“Not regularly. Just…not…” Carly wrinkled her nose, defensive now. “I know what you’re going to say, Mama. I know you wanted him to get help after the breakdown. I thought maybe he would, but he changed his mind. And I guess I get it. I mean, it’s not the first time it’s happened, and me and Jason are always able to talk him out of it. He’s just stressed because of the kidnapping and Ric’s case—” She shook her head. “We’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine,” Bobbie repeated. “You know, Jason drove himself into the ground because he had to handle everything himself. Keeping the PCPD from arresting him, looking for you, trying to keep Elizabeth alive. And worry for Jason kept Elizabeth in that damn house long enough for Ric to attack her and drug her more. You were held hostage in a dark, cement panic room for a week. Why the hell is it your or Jason’s job to keep Sonny sane?”

“Because he’s my husband. He’s our family,” Carly snapped. She pulled herself to her feet, her hand braced over her belly. “And we’ve always kept him safe.”

“Whatever he said to Elizabeth today had her rattled enough to call me, worried about Sonny, worried about you and Jason.” Bobbie stood, planting her hands on her hips. “Tell me, Carly. When Sonny has these nervous breakdowns, have you ever feared for your safety?”

When her daughter looked away, didn’t answer, Bobbie nodded. “It’s one thing for you and Jason to sign on to be his nursemaids. But you are raising children with him. Elizabeth is planning a future with Jason. Do your children deserve this life? Does Elizabeth?”

Carly rolled her eyes. “Spare me your concern about precious Elizabeth. She’ll be just—” She stopped. Took a deep breath. “When exactly did you get so damned worried about Elizabeth Webber?”

“Because she’s part of my family, too,” Bobbie snapped. “And don’t give me that look, Caroline. She risked her life to save you—”

“She risked her life because she’s obsessed with Jason,” Carly retorted, but her shoulders hunched. “And maybe some of that was about me—”

“I will not let you belittle what she did. How—with nearly her last breath—she found the button that set you free.” Bobbie stabbed a finger at Carly. “You like having Jason to yourself because he’s there at your beck and call to save Sonny. To keep him sane. That’s why you wanted him to be with Courtney. Because you knew he’d never go far. It is not fair to ask that Jason keep saving Sonny. One day, that man is going to have to save himself and stop depending on the rest of us to carry the weight.”

And with that, Bobbie stormed out.

Kelly’s: Lucky’s Room

Kelsey sighed in relief as she dumped a pile of folders on Lucky’s battered desk and turned to him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He opened the paper bag he’d brought up from the diner downstairs and started unpacking the Styrofoam containers on the table tucked into the corner. “We both have to work. There’s no reason we can’t do it together.” Lucky managed a weak grin. “Second date, right?”

A laugh escaped her lips as she rubbed her temples. “This has been the worst day, I swear. Did you read Brooke Lynn’s statement yet?”

“Not yet,” Lucky admitted. “Taggert just got us copies before I signed out for the day.” He pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit down. “But it must have been hard to sit through.”

“She says she won’t sit for another interview.” Kelsey sat down and unpacked the burger she’d ordered, then stared at it. “She only talked to us at all because Elizabeth Webber said it was her biggest regret.”

Lucky frowned at her. Shook his head. “I don’t—”

“Ned asked Elizabeth to talk to Brooke. And I guess Elizabeth said something about not reporting right away, and how it made it harder to get Tom Baker when he became a suspect.” Kelsey studied him for a long moment. “It was smart of her dad to go out and try to find someone who could help her. Support her. Elizabeth told Ned Taggert could be trusted and had been kind to her, so…we benefited from that.”

“Yeah.” Lucky shifted in his seat. “Yeah, Taggert didn’t like me much back then, but he always liked Elizabeth. Garcia didn’t do much with her case, but every time Elizabeth came to Taggert with some—” He squeezed his eyes shut.

Kelsey reached over to cover his hand with hers. “Hey. Something else coming back?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. She didn’t remember a lot at first. But details came back. Just small ones. He smelled like soap and he’d said something to her—I don’t—” Lucky grimaced. “I can’t remember all of it yet. But I will. Anyway, every time, Taggert sat down. Wrote it up. Had her look at mugshots. He knew it was a long shot, but he always took the time for her.”

“I can tell this matters to him.” Kelsey cut her burger into quarters, hoping she could eat at least something. “He was kind to her, but Brooke didn’t remember a lot. Her details are similar to the attacks from this year. She remembered handcuffs and that he smelled her hair. He also said something to her. She thinks it was just him telling her to be quiet. Then beat her when it was over.”

Her stomach rolled. “They think they might be able to get DNA, though. He didn’t wear a condom.”

“Risky or dumb?” Lucky asked.

“It probably means his DNA isn’t in the system, or if it is, it’s never been attached to a name.” Kelsey sighed. “She just—I remember the girl we met last week. She was so vibrant. And today—it’s like night and day. This guy—men who do this—they steal something that we can never give them back, you know? It doesn’t matter if we find this guy. We can’t ever make it right.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Lucky nodded towards the files. “Do you think she gave us anything we can use?”

“Taggert is trying to get the other three victims to do a follow up, but they’ve refused. The press coverage—they don’t have a lot of faith anything can be done.”

“Maybe if the forensics come back and give us a link, they’ll reconsider.” Lucky shoved his dinner, mostly untouched, aside. “But the hair thing. That’s interesting.”

“Smelling her hair? Maybe. They’re all brunettes. Maybe he’s looking for something specific. Scott managed to convince the city council to give the PCPD emergency funding to cover overtime and testing. You guys can now carpet the park with officers and test every single kit in storage.”

“I guess that’s something.” Lucky grimaced. “We’re not really eating, are we?”

“No. I guess we should get back to work. I want to read over her statement again, and there’s a couple of cases I’m going to court for in the morning. I’ll be relieved when Scott can manage to get a few more ADAs in my office.” She twisted to look at the stack of files on his desk. “It’s going to be a long night. Maybe I should just head home—”

“No, hey—” Lucky stood, grabbed the files, then set them down. “We’ll go through them together. I probably worked some of them.”

“Well, I’ve got three vandalism cases, one simple assault from a bar fight, and two burglaries—all of which are guilty pleas, so at least that’s more cheerful than a serial rapist.” She reached for her briefcase with her stationery and notebooks. “Let’s get started.”

Condo: Hallway

After looking for Jason in a few other places, Elizabeth finally gave up and returned home—only to find Jason sitting outside her door, his back against the wall with his legs stretched out. When he saw her, he got to his feet.

“I know you said not to come back—”

“I’m glad you’re here—” she said at the same time, throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifted her slightly in the air as she kissed him hard. “I’m sorry,” she murmured against his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“You never ever—” He tightened his arms around her torso, holding her against his chest. “I’m sorry. I can’t stand how much I hurt you—”

“It’s not—” She sighed and waited for him to release her. When she was back on her feet, she unlocked her door and invited him in. “I’m not sorry I was angry about what happened. That you not only took the letter, read it, and then went to…see him…I didn’t want you to do that.”

She dumped her purse on the table and turned to face him, taking in the fact he was wearing his shirt from the night before, wrinkled now. He had a day’s growth of stubble lining his jaw and his eyes were rimmed with red. She bit her lip. “Have you slept?”

“I went to the warehouse. I packed coffee until Sonny sent me to the office. Then Bernie sent me home.” Jason shook his head. “I went for a ride. I didn’t even know you were calling me, but—I’m sorry.”

“Come here.” She took his hand and led him to the sofa where he sat down and she curled up against him. “I saw Gail today and she…helped me understand what happened last night.”

“I did that—I made you—”

“Not—” She laced her fingers through his. She’d always liked the way their hands fit together, her much smaller fingers against his larger ones. “Thank you for calling Monica. Part of it was a panic attack, but it was triggered by something else. It was like…” She rested her chin on his shoulder, waited until he turned his head slightly to meet her eyes. “It was like I saw that letter—and just that was enough to put me back in that moment. It was like I was there. And it was happening again. And that—” She bit her lip. “Gail said I was re-experiencing the trauma.”

He closed his eyes. “Because of me—”

“Ric did that to me,” Elizabeth said softly. “Ric, Tom Baker, and whoever attacked Brooke Lynn Ashton and those other girls. They created the conditions, and you just lit the match. It was always going to be something. I’m so sorry it was you.”

She bit her lip. “While I was with Gail, I started to think that I was a complete mess. That this is the wrong time for us to be trying this—that I don’t even understand my own brain, how could I ever hope to have a healthy romantic relationship right now?”

She could feel his muscles tense as he exhaled slowly. “Are you—Do you want—”

“And Gail asked me if that was really why I would step back, and I realized…” She drew back slightly. “I guess I realized that’s usually what I do when it comes to you. When it gets hard, I run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. With Lucky, with Ric, I dug in. I stayed.”

Jason frowned, shifting on the sofa, turning slightly to face her more fully. “Why?”

“Because you’re not like them. You see me. You’ve always seen me, and I think…” Her throat burned as she forced out the words. “I think I’m afraid one day you’ll see that I don’t deserve it.”

“Deserve…” Jason shook his head. “You don’t—deserve what?”

“My parents. They left. As soon as they could. And even my grandmother, as much as she loved me, I knew she was disappointed in me. Lucky left. He never came back. And you left. Everyone leaves. And after that first time, Jason, when you left and I was crying, begging you to stay, I knew it would happen again. So, I left first. I sent you away when you offered me the world, and I walked out on you last year—”

He took her hand in his, shaking his head. “That’s—what did you say in the hospital? About telling yourself stories that make you out to be the bad guy?”

“Yeah, but that’s what happened—”

“Elizabeth, you—” He sat up straight and took a deep breath. “You have to stop taking on the weight of the world. You threw me out last night because I didn’t listen to you. You knew you weren’t ready to deal with Tom Baker or his letter, and I decided what I needed was more important. I was selfish. You had every right to be angry at me, but now we’re here and you’re telling me that you don’t deserve me, and I just—” He shook his head. “I’m supposed to be the one apologizing here.”

“I—” She bit her lip. “I guess. But—”

“When I left that first time—after I got shot. I told you that I had to go.” Jason tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers trail down her jawline. “The thing is you were the only reason I would have stayed. If you hadn’t left first, I don’t know if I could have gone through with it. But I knew Carly was on the warpath and she was determined to make my life a living hell. I had to get away from her. I had to force her to fix her own problems. But I didn’t want to leave you.”

Something deep inside of her loosened and she managed a smile. “Really?”

“And when I—how did you put it?—offered you the world—” Jason shook his head. “You’re making it sound like I got down on one knee and begged you to leave with me. You didn’t spit in my face, Elizabeth. I knew how hard all of that was for you. I asked you to leave, and when you asked me if it meant with me, and I didn’t—” He grimaced. “I didn’t say the right words. I knew it even as I was saying them. I told you that it didn’t have to be with me.  Just as long as you were safe.”

She closed her eyes. “I didn’t—I forgot—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “You’re right. I have to—I need to be kinder to myself. Gail tells me that all the time. And you do, too. It’s just hard. I’m trying.”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about the letter.”

“I’m still not ready to know what he said or what happened when you saw him.” She leaned back against him and he put an arm around her. “Will you stay here tonight? I didn’t sleep last night. And I don’t want to be alone.”

“I missed you.” His fingers slid through her hair. “We’re going to get this right this time, Elizabeth. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Please note that the final scene has a trigger warning. See Content Notes for more information.

---

She wants to go home
But nobody’s home
That’s where she lies
Broken inside
With no place to go
No place to go to
To dry her eyes
Broken inside
– Nobody’s Home, Avril Lavigne

---

Thursday, July 17, 2003

General Hospital: Brooke’s Room

That morning, Brooke’s doctor had agreed to move her out of the ICU with its clear, transparent walls, and into her own room. She’d begged to be released, begged to go home, but then her parents had just argued again about whether Brooke would go home to the gatehouse or to Bensonhurst—and though Olivia had managed to quiet them both—Brooke stopped asking to leave.

She was tired of her parents arguing. It was the dominant memory of her childhood and had been the reason she had never believed or even hoped her parents would get back together. She had no memory of them being together and couldn’t imagine them ever being in love enough to create a child.

She refused all visitors, refused to talk to the police. This just needed to be over. She wanted to close her eyes, go to sleep, and just never wake up. Every time she was conscious, there was pain. Her head. Her arms.

And inside. Sometimes she woke gasping for air, the stabbing pain of being held down while someone forced himself inside her—

Brooke couldn’t even curl up, couldn’t even disappear into dreamless sleep. Her ribs pained her, her dreams haunted her—

Every second of her life was a waking nightmare, and sleep provided only minimal escape.

Her father lightly tapped on the door and pushed it open. “Brooke, I know you said you didn’t want to see anyone—”

“And that’s still true,” Brooke muttered, but she couldn’t force any anger or heat into her words. All of that took too much energy.

“I just—I thought you might want to talk to someone—”

“I already told you, I’m not talking to a shrink—” Brooke turned her head to face the door, then blinked because the woman standing next to her father wasn’t a shrink. She’d seen the woman’s face all over the newspapers for the last few weeks. “What—”

“I can go, Brooke,” Elizabeth Webber said. “The last thing you need is someone forcing you to talk to anyone. I—I know what that’s like.”

Brooke fumbled for the remote on the left side of her bed slightly. “How?” she asked with suspicion. She furrowed her brow. Why would her father bring this woman to see her?

“Because when it happened to me, I spent the next three days in bed, and then a few more weeks pretending it had never happened,” Elizabeth said, meeting her eyes. “And when I finally told people, it felt like it was all they ever saw when they looked at me.”

Brooke looked at her father, but Ned’s face remained expressionless. She knew her father hated being powerless, of not being able to fix this for her. So clearly, he’d gone out to find a way to fix it.

He was trying, and Brooke so desperately wanted to believe this was something that her father could make go away.

“You can come in, I guess. Just you,” she said quickly. Elizabeth turned, flashed a half smile at Ned, then let the dark wooden door fall shut behind her. “I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth looked around the room, exhaling slowly. “It wasn’t so long ago I was stuck in a room like this,” she murmured. “I hated the ICU, too. Hated the way people seemed to stop and stare at me. I mean, maybe it was in my head, but it just felt like I was some sort of circus show.”

She sat in the chair near Brooke’s bed and folded her hands in her lap. “Do…do you want to ask me anything?”

“I—” Brooke bit her lip. “When did it happen to you?”

“I was sixteen,” Elizabeth said. “Valentine’s Day, 1998.” She rubbed her hands together, staring down at the chipped nails. “It’s been five years.”

Brooke leaned her had back against the pillow. “Did you—did they get the guy?”

“Eventually. Not for what happened to me. They couldn’t prove it by then. I did—” Elizabeth shook her head. “I guess people would say I did everything wrong, you know? I took a shower. I waited to report. And by the time I did, there was nowhere to look. I mean, I did a rape kit right after and gave them the dress I had been wearing, but I still didn’t officially file a report.”

“Is that why you’re here? To tell me to talk to the cops?” Brooke demanded with a scowl. “I’m not going to. Some asshole already told everyone about me, and I just—maybe if the world didn’t know—but—” The pressure building behind her eyes released and tears slid down her cheek. “I can’t. I can’t say it out loud.”

“I get that,” Elizabeth said softly. “I’ve never really—I locked it away for a long time. At first, I could only—I could only give some details. I couldn’t face it. Even when I did face it—I still only did it halfway. There’s no right way to handle something this big, Brooke. You have to do what’s right for you, you know? I can wish I did things differently. Hindsight gives me that ability to see everything I could have done to make it easier for me, but that’s me.”

She bit her lip. “I was in a survivor’s group for a while as part of my therapy, and God, the stories broke my heart. I started to tell myself I’d been lucky to be attacked by a stranger. At least it wasn’t my boyfriend. Or my father, or my brother.” Her fist clenched in her lap. “But that was me trying to make it less awful, trying to minimize what happened to me.”

Brooke closed her eyes. “I don’t want to say it out loud,” she managed. “I don’t want it to be true, and I don’t want anyone to know. But I guess…I guess that ship has sailed on that. I belong to a prominent family, so I guess I don’t have a choice—”

“You always have a choice, Brooke. He didn’t take that from you.” Elizabeth hesitated. “When it happened, I had never been with anyone. I hadn’t even really been in love. I couldn’t imagine ever letting someone touch me because then—then they might see how broken and dirty I was.”

Brooke choked as a sob pushed its way up her throat. “I don’t like boys. I never ever wanted—” The tears came fast now. “I knew someone whose guy friend found out she was gay, and he—he forced her to prove she really wanted boys. And I was always scared—and now—” She managed a deep breath. “Does it ever stop being the worst thing that ever happened to you? How do you sleep and not think about it? How do you stop?”

“Time. Nothing but time,” Elizabeth admitted. “And sometimes…sometimes, the dreams come again. I wish—I wish I could give you sunshine and rainbows, Brooke, and promise you there will be a turning point where it stops being something that you think about. For years, I thought of myself as the girl who got raped, and while I don’t give myself that label anymore, there will never be a time when I don’t see that day as…”

Elizabeth hesitated. “It’s like this giant thing in the middle of my life. There will always be a before and an after for me. A time before I got raped, and everything that happened after.”

Her chest ached as Brooke tried to take another deep breath, tried to stop crying. “B-but it got better.”

“It did. I started to let people in. I didn’t have a choice about Lucky Spencer. He found me that night and took me back to his house where his father and his aunt took care of me. Bobbie became someone I could say anything to. I eventually told my grandmother and my sister. And others in my life if it became relevant. I fell in love—with Lucky, and then Jason. For a long time, I thought of myself as two people. Lizzie came before, and I used to blame her. That wild child who lied, broke the rules, and stayed out late. I did everything I could to drown Lizzie’s voice out.”

Brooke sniffled and took the tissue Elizabeth offered. “You don’t anymore?”

“No. Lizzie wasn’t to blame.  I wasn’t to blame. I walked through the park one night and I sat on a bench, and that was something I had the right to do. It didn’t matter what I wore, where I was, or how late it was. Someone came in and tried to steal that from me, and eventually, it became easier to blame him and not myself.”

Brooke blinked at her. Bench. Park. “Y-you said they caught him. H-how did you know?”

“He admitted it. It’s—complicated.” Elizabeth shook her head. “He denied it later, and they couldn’t make a case against him.”

“There are other girls. That’s what the papers say.” Brooke met Elizabeth’s eyes. “Maybe…talking to the police…that could help them, right?”

“It could.”

“I should—I should try to help so that it doesn’t happen to anyone else. I—I can do that. I guess. Tell them what happened. Once,” she added quickly. “If I just say it once, then maybe it won’t hurt so much.”

“Maybe,” Elizabeth said softly. “But don’t expect miracles, Brooke. This—this isn’t going to go away tomorrow or if you wish really hard. This is something that’s going to stay with you. Expecting to put it in a box in your head and lock it away—I’ve tried that.”

“Can—if I wanted to talk about it again, could I talk to you?” Brooke asked hesitantly.

“I’ll leave you my number,” Elizabeth said, looking at the table for a pen and paper. “You call me any hour of the day or night. I will be here for you if you need it.” She scribbled something and handed it to Brooke. “That’s my land line and my cell phone.”

“Thanks. Um, I guess I should tell my dad to call the police and tell them—”

“There’s no rush,” Elizabeth said, getting to her feet. “Brooke—”

“If I don’t do it now, I might never do it.’

General Hospital: Conference Room

Taggert could see, even before Ned took a seat across from him at the table, that Brooke’s father was boiling with rage—that it lay simmering beneath the surface, threatening to bubble over given even the slightest opportunity. His ex-wife, Lois, didn’t bother to sit, though the woman who had traveled with Lois—Olivia Falconieri—gingerly took a seat next to Ned. Taggert was a bit mystified to see Lois throwing angry looks in her friend’s direction.

“I appreciate you meeting with me,” Taggert began.

Before he could continue, Ned leaned forward and pointed a finger at the table, all but stabbing it. “Let’s get one thing straight. The only reason I am in this room with you and not with Alexis preparing a gigantic lawsuit is because my daughter has decided to make a statement and Elizabeth Webber said you could be trusted.”

Taggert exhaled slowly. He had shown Elizabeth some kindness all of those years ago, and now he was benefiting from it. After the way the department had screwed her over, he hadn’t expected that. “Ned—”

“Are the papers right?” Lois demanded, her face mottled with red, her dark eyes molten with fury. “Is my daughter a victim of a serial rapist?”

“Yes,” Taggert said.

“How long have you known?” Olivia asked quietly. Lois threw her another dirty look, but Olivia ignored her. “My son is thinking about quitting. You know that, don’t you?”

“I started to suspect about two weeks ago when I transferred to Major Crimes,” Taggert told the trio. “I took a look at the open case files. The officer assigned had reasons to doubt it, but there were too many similarities. The DA’s office is on board with linking the cases. We were held back from issuing a public alert.”

“By who? The mayor?” Ned demanded. “Why?”

“A few reasons that don’t matter,” Taggert offered with a shake of his head. “But more likely because it’s an election year.”

Olivia raised a thin brow. “Should you be telling us that?”

“Why the hell are you even here?” Lois exploded, and Olivia looked at her now, mystified. “Brooke is my daughter, not yours—”

“Because I asked her to be,” Ned snapped at his ex-wife. “Because we’re both too angry and upset, and I wanted someone else Brooke trusted to listen to an investigation update. Her son works for the PCPD, Lois. You asked her to come here to Port Charles. Let her help.”

“I’ll go.” Olivia got to her feet. “I don’t want to make things worse—”

Lois scrubbed her hands over her face, digging her heels into her eyes. “No. No. Ned is right. I’m sorry.”

“There isn’t much Floyd can do to me,” Taggert said, answering Olivia’s question as if the intervening argument hadn’t happened. “Scott Baldwin has assigned an ADA to this case full-time, and Kelsey Joyce is already getting us the extra funding we need to test all the rape kits we have as a backlog. We should have those results back in a few weeks.”

“My daughter’s life has been destroyed,” Ned said. “And you don’t have a single lead?”

“We have leads,” Taggert said, a bit defensively. “But, no, we don’t have any suspects. But based on the types of women this asshole targets and the way he targets them, we have places to look. I’m putting the entire unit on this, and I’ll be in charge—”

“Why should that make me feel better?” Lois jabbed a finger at him. “Did you find Carly Corinthos? She was locked behind a damn wall in the house of the man her son told you kidnapped her, and you still couldn’t find her. His wife had to nearly die in order to make that happen.”

“I—” Taggert shook his head. “I’m sorry. I wish I had more to give you—”

“You tell Mac and the mayor that I don’t care what asshole I have to pick up off the streets,” Ned began as he shoved himself to his feet. “I am putting the full force of the Quartermaines behind who ever runs against that son of the bitch in the fall. He sacrificed my daughter for his fucking election. You and the rest of the PCPD—”

He sliced his hand through the air. “I am through accepting the bullshit this town has for police protection. You couldn’t protect my daughter, my fiancée last year—and you have no problems throwing innocent women to the wolves to cover your own asses—it has to stop.”

He stormed out of the room, Lois and Olivia on his heels.

Brownstone: Living Room

Lulu dropped her bags on the chair and scowled at the police officer in the foyer. “Why are you here bothering my cousin?” she demanded.

Dante Falconieri rolled his eyes at his friend’s younger sister. Apparently, according to Lucky, Lulu had taken the first flight home when she found out Brooke had been hurt and was now acting like a guard dog for Lucas Jones. “We just have a few follow-ups—”

“Because the only thing you assholes definitely know is that Lucas, Dillon, and Kyle didn’t do it.” Lulu lifted her chin. “So, go find the piece of shit who did—”

Dante held up his hands. “Hey. Knock off the attitude. Your brother is one of us, remember? And I just started this job a month ago.”

None of the fire was extinguished from Lulu’s angry dark eyes. “Oh, yeah? You think I’m not pissed at my brother either? That could have happened to any of us—Brooke walked through the park like I’ve done a thousand times—” Her voice wavered slightly. “She never would have done that if we’d known—”

“Brooke’s my friend, too,” Dante returned, more gently. “We grew up together in Bensonhurst—”

Lulu perched on the arm of the chair and sighed. “Right. Shit. I’m sorry. I forgot—” She chewed on her bottom lip. “If I hadn’t been in London, I probably would have been with them that night. We do a movie night every month, and it was Dillon’s turn to pick the movie.” She folded her arms. “Last month, we invited Kyle for the first time, and it was a major drama because Lucas is like a five-year-old who can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Dante tilted his head. “Why does everyone hate Kyle Radcliffe?”

“Oh, we have legitimate reasons. He seduced Maxie in the spring and then broadcast their first time on a webcam. Complete asshole.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “But like Maxie tells us, that’s her shit to forgive, not ours. Whatever. Anyway, if I had been there, I could have done something. Maybe I would have seen her leave. I could have stopped her. Or I could have—” She shook her head again. “Lucas isn’t here. He’s at Kelly’s. Trying to keep his mind off of things.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Dante hesitated. “Did Brooke go last month? Was she part of the group then? I know she moved here early in June—”

“No, she was still having a temper tantrum. And I don’t even know her that well. She only visited a few times when we were kids, and sometimes Ned had me and Maxie and Georgie to come play with her. We weren’t that close. And we didn’t even go to the Harwin, if you’re wondering if maybe the group was targeted. That’s why you’re asking, right?”

“Yeah.” Dante lifted his brows. “How did you know?”

“That’s how this works. These are the questions.  Was Brooke targeted? How did the asshole find her? Was she random?” She shrugged. “So, no, that was the first time at the Harwin for the group at large. That’s Dillon’s favorite theater. It shows all the old movies. We usually hit the Loewe’s or AMC out at the mall. We went to AMC last month.” Lulu hesitated. “Hey, is my brother okay with all of this?”

“Lucky?” Dante asked. “Yeah. I guess, why?”

“Oh. I just worried it might bring back bad memories.” Dante’s mystified look must have read on his face because Lulu continued. “When he was sixteen, he found Elizabeth in the park after she’d been raped. I was just worried about him, that’s all. Can you tell him to return my phone calls when you see him?”

General Hospital: Administration Suite

Alexis shifted uncomfortably in her chair and watched as Ned paced the small office she occupied as the hospital’s attorney. Her ex-fiancé had been on the phone for the last twenty minutes trying to find someone willing to run against Garrett Floyd before the deadline at the end of the month.

Ned tossed his flip phone onto the glass conference table with a grimace. “The Barringtons have already promised their support to Floyd.”

Alexis pursed her lips. “They weren’t swayed by the recent reports?”

“They think it’s too soon to assign blame.” Ned rolled his shoulders. “I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?”

She shook her head. “Uh uh. Don’t ask me. I’ve been a mother for less than a year and I’m pretty sure I’m messing it up.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t fix this, Alexis. I wouldn’t let her have a car. I took away her phone—”

“You were disciplining her—and you never would have done that if you’d known there was a serial rapist targeting young brunettes.” Alexis leaned back in her chair. “You could always file suit against the city—”

Ned hesitated. “Maybe, but…the whole world already knows this happened to her. Elizabeth told me Brooke is struggling with that. She wants to make a statement to the police and move on with her life.” He grimaced. It burned at him, though, that such callous decisions had been made without even an of ounce concern for all the damage that could be done.

Someone had to pay.

“It’s good that she’s ready to make a statement, and I’m glad Elizabeth could be there to help her.” Alexis hesitated. “Ned, it doesn’t matter what happens with the investigation, with the election—this is always going to have happened. Don’t be so hard on yourself for not having all the answers yet.”

“I’ve never been able to be there for my daughter,” Ned murmured. “I’ve never been a good father. I just wanted to be better this time.”

“Maybe you haven’t been the world’s best father.” Alexis rose from her chair and rounded the desk to step in front of him. She put her hands on his cheek, framing his face. “But you’re a good man, and you’re going to do the best you can. That’s all you can ask of yourself. Be there for Brooke, listen to what she needs. Everything else can—and should—wait.”

Elizabeth’s Condo: Living Room

Elizabeth managed a tired smile when Jason came over that night. She brushed her lips against his. “Hey. I hope you don’t mind Kelly’s again.” She gestured towards the counter in her kitchen where takeout containers sat. “I went by the hospital today and I wasn’t really up to anything else.”

“No, no, that’s—” He swallowed, slid his fingers through his hair. “I forgot you were talking to Brooke today. I should have called.”

She opened a drawer to pull out some utensils. “It’s so different for her,” Elizabeth murmured. “No one knew about me. No one I didn’t want to know, anyway. But someone leaked her name, and she had to go to the hospital—it’s been a circus.” She sighed. “Kind of like this summer when I was in the ICU and all the papers, you know? I felt like I was on display.”

“Why would they leak her name? Because of the Quartermaines?” Jason took the food from her and set it on the table. They both sat down but neither started eating. “To sell papers?”

“Bobbie told me it was two separate leaks. Brooke’s name and the serial rapist—” Elizabeth pushed her chili around in the plastic bowl. “Justus called from Philly—he thinks we should go after the PCPD after all because of the negligence—and I just—I don’t know. I can’t do it.”

“They put you in danger. They didn’t warn people about the park,” Jason said. “Do you think that’s something they should get away with?”

“No.” She sighed. “But I just keep thinking about that poor girl, looking at me and asking me if it gets better. If it would all go away.” Her throat thickened and she swallowed hard. “I should have lied to her. I should have told yes, of course. It gets better. It goes away, and you’ll never have to think about it again.” She turned to look out the window. “It gets better, but it never ever goes away. And you never know what will trigger the memory.”

She looked back at him, at the untouched dinners in front of them, and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I feel like every time we see each other, I’m crying again, or—” Elizabeth shook her head and shoved away from the table, crossing to the sofa. She folded herself up into the corner. “I don’t know why you bother.”

Behind her, she heard him sigh and get up. He sat next to her on the sofa, at the other end with space between them. “I bother,” he said, stressing the word, “because I love you. I’m sorry about what Brooke’s going through. What it’s brought back for you—”

“I told you—it was already in my head.” Elizabeth leaned back against the sofa, tilting her head up to the ceiling. “That last day with Ric, when he was coming after me—I’m not even sure if I had time to realize that the fear I felt—that it was familiar. That it was something I had lived with for months after I was raped. It took me years to walk through that park alone without breaking into a sweat or a panic attack. And then when I started to think about being drugged—” She bit her lip. “And of course, that letter.” She looked at him. “Did you get rid of it?”

Jason hesitated.  And there was something in his eyes, in the way the muscles in his cheeks twitched slightly. Her heart started to pound. “Jason.”

“No, I didn’t throw it away,” he said finally. He reached into his back pocket and took out the letter which had been folded several times over, then looked at her. “I told you that I read it.”

“What else did you do?” she asked. She shoved herself to her feet, her heart pounding. Because she knew—she knew what he was going to say next. Her mouth dry, her head screaming, she swallowed hard. “Did you go to see him?”

He winced, closed his eyes, and everything inside her just exploded.

“I shouldn’t have,” Jason acknowledged. “I wish I hadn’t. But I couldn’t get it out of my head. I told myself I would go and keep whatever he told me to myself. If you ever wanted to know, I could…I could tell you then.” He stood. “I had a friend in the prison let me in to see Baker a few days ago. I wanted to warn him to stay away from you. But then he said something—so I read the letter. After Brooke, I realized if what he said was true—”

“Stop! Don’t say another—” She broke off abruptly, her mouth dry, her heart racing so fast—the room started to spin. Elizabeth moved hastily around the back of the sofa. Wanting something between them. Needing something between them. She couldn’t…she couldn’t breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make it all go away—but instead—

Don’t say another…

Despite the artificial cold of the air conditioning unit hanging in one of her windows, the air felt more bitter than that. That was all it took—just the mention of his name, the closing of her eyes, and she could still summon the sensation of bitter February winter, the wetness of the snow after he’d stripped her of her warm wool coat.  It had seeped into her dress, drenching her skin.

Not a word.

Even taking hot showers every day for more than a month hadn’t been able to banish that feeling from her mind.

“Elizabeth?”

Jason’s voice came from somewhere far away—as Lucky’s had that night. She’d heard Lucky calling her name, then the vanishing of the weight from above her. The bright burst of pain as he’d taken a hunk of her hair and slammed it one more time against the frozen dirt—

“Elizabeth—”

Something touched her shoulder, and Elizabeth’s eyes flew open. She stumbled back, her hands flying out to push against whatever was next to her—she could sense that weight more than see it.

And then she was back in the present. In July 2003, not February 1998. Inside her small living room, with the warm yellow light filtering through the lamp shades and the humming of her air conditioner.

Not outside. Not on the ground. Not in the snow.

“Elizabeth—”

She looked at Jason. He stood a few feet from her, his hands up in surrender, a scratch on his forearm already beginning to drip with blood. She looked down at her hands, at the blood underneath one of her fingernails before looking back at him. His eyes were bright with worry, with sorrow.

He’d done this to her. He’d brought this feeling back. Hadn’t she told him not to do it? To leave it alone?

“I just wanted it to stay locked up,” Elizabeth murmured. She looked at the letter sitting on her table as it weren’t a ticking time bomb. “I wanted it to stay away.”

“I know. I’m sorry—”

“I asked you to not to do anything.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I—I already have nightmares. I see the panic room every night. I see Carly and I can’t get to her, and he comes home, and he stops me. He puts me in there with her—”

Jason said nothing, only swallowed hard, but now his eyes were damp. What right did he have to cry? This was his fault.

“I had nightmares last year. Of the dark. Of never getting back out of it. Bad things come in the dark. They happen in the dark, when you can’t see to stop them. They grab you—” She choked off the words, pressed her hands to her mouth. “I can’t…I can’t…I have them, too. I’m locked in the dark, and I can hear Carly screaming. And now I’m going to think about the snow. About lying on that ground and not being able to stop him. How I felt like I was being torn in two—”

Jason took a single step towards her, and Elizabeth backed up until she hit the wall and then slid to the ground. She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t be that girl. She wasn’t even put together yet, and he was breaking her again.

“I thought it would be different,” she managed. She raised her eyes to look at him as he stood across the room, holding one hand against the scratch—probably to stop the blood from dripping. “I thought you could be someone I could trust.”

“That’s why I had to tell you. I didn’t want to lie to you.”

“I guess your epiphany came too late,” she retorted. “I asked you to not to do anything. Because I can’t—I don’t want to know what he said. I need you to go. I can’t…I can’t have people I don’t trust in my life. Not ever again.”

He exhaled slowly. “I’ll go because you’re asking me to, and I’ve done enough to hurt you. I know that, but Elizabeth…I know it was wrong to go when you’d told me not to do anything. That was your decision to make, not mine.”

“Too little, too late.” Elizabeth forced herself to rise but remained against the wall. “I want you to go.” When he still didn’t move, she screamed it this time. “Go! Get out!”

He went, taking the letter with him. She should have been angry about that, but she didn’t want it in her house. Didn’t want to have to look at it. Touch it.

When the door closed behind him, she slid back onto the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs, tucking her head down.

And cried.

Outside her door, Jason made a call and then waited until the elevator at the end of the hall opened and his mother stepped out. She carried a black bag and hurried towards him.

Monica frowned at him. “Why—”

“She threw me out.” Jason shook his head. “I can’t—I can’t talk about it. The door’s open. Please. Just make sure she’s all right. That it was just—Please.”

“Okay.”

“I have to go.”

He left then, afraid if he waited until Monica was done, he might not be able to go at all.

And she wanted him gone.

But you can’t walk in my shoes
Every mile just feels like two
I won’t keep explaining
I won’t keep on trying
So what if I’m hiding
You’re giving me a headache
– Please Don’t Shout, Billie Myers

---

Wednesday, July 16, 2003

 General Hospital: ICU

She could hear the voices first. They were whispers, murmurs, sounds. She wanted to stay in the darkness, in the softness and bliss of nothing. Nothingness seemed better.

But then the voices shifted—in tone, in volume. Brooke opened her eyes, turning her head slightly to the side. Where was she? Why did she still feel like she was floating?

And…why were her parents arguing? Why were they together?

“I want to take Brookie home today!” her mother snarled, and blearily, Brooke could see her mother stabbing her finger into her father’s chest, her face screwed up in furious lines, tear stains glinting on her cheeks. “I don’t want her in this godforsaken city another minute—”

“The doctors say it’s more important to let her wake up on her own,” her father retorted. “To say nothing of the police who want to take her statement—”

“The police? You have the nerve to bring them up? The PCPD isn’t getting through that goddamn door—”

“I may not like them very much, but I want this animal caught and that can’t—”

“Hey!” Another voice snapped. “The both of you. This is a hospital—” Brooke knew that sound—her mother’s best friend, Liv. Level-headed Aunt Livvie.

“Brooke?” Olivia murmured, as she approached the bed. “She’s awake.”

“Oh, Brookie—” Lois pressed her fingers to her lips. “Baby. How are you feeling?”

“I—” Brooke cleared her throat. Looked at her parents before looking at her aunt. “What’s going on?  It’s hard to—” Why couldn’t she finish a sentence? Why couldn’t she think? “Am…Am I in the hospital—Ma, what are you doing here?”

“Baby, we’ll talk about this later.” Lois whacked Ned in the chest. “Go get a doctor.”

“Hey, we’re not married anymore. You don’t get to order me around,” Ned muttered, but nonetheless obeyed.

“We’re going to take you home to Bensonhurst, just as soon as you’re up to it,” Lois promised, perching on the edge of the bed.

“Lois,” Olivia murmured. “This isn’t the time—”

“Home?” Brooke repeated. “I—I’m going to school here. I got a job—maybe even friends—”

Oh, God, oh, God.

 It slammed into her with the force of a freight train—the terror, the tearing pain, the desperation—oh, God. “Ma…” Her eyes filled with tears. “Ma.”

“Oh, my baby…” Lois slid up closer, touching Brooke’s cheek. “Baby…”

Ned returned, with Tony Jones on his heels—and Lieutenant Taggert. “Brooke…”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. Get out. Get out, get out!” Brooke screeched. She thrashed on the bed. She wasn’t going to talk about it. She was never going to think about it again. She didn’t want to even know about it. “Get out!”

“Go!” Lois snarled, launching herself off the bed at Taggert. “Get out! You’re upsetting her!”

“Call me if she changes her mind,” Taggert murmured to Ned before leaving.

“Aunt Livvie, make them all go away—” Brooke whimpered. She reached blindly for Olivia’s hand. “Make it stop. Make them all stop.”

“All right, baby girl. All right.” Olivia turned to Brooke’s parents and the doctor. “She’s not going to talk to anyone—”

“I need to examine her,” Tony protested.

“That’s my daughter—” Ned added.

“Brookie—”

“And the first thing she hears when she wakes up is her parents goin’ at each other. Let’s just give her a minute, okay?” Olivia put an arm around Lois’s shoulder. “Go get some coffee. Kill each other in the parking lot for all I care.”

Ned pressed his lips together, looked at his crying daughter and took a deep breath. “Okay. If Brooke needs me to go, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Wait here,” Olivia said to Tony once Ned and Lois had reluctantly left. “Brooke, baby, you were hurt pretty bad. No one is going to talk about why, but can you let the doctor check on you? The faster you heal, the faster you can leave.”

Brooke’s tears continued but she nodded. “Okay. Okay. But I don’t wanna see anyone else.” She grabbed Olivia’s wrist. “Do-do they all know?”

“Don’t worry about any of that, baby girl.” Olivia took Brooke’s hand in both of hers. “Let—” She looked at Tony.

“Dr. Jones,” he supplied.

“Let Dr. Jones look at you. And maybe he can give you something that might make you feel better.” She met Tony’s eyes as he hesitantly approached. “Dr. Jones?”

“Sure, sure, if that’s what Brooke wants.”

“I just want it to go away. It didn’t happen, Aunt Livvie. Okay? It never happened—” Brooke continued to cry even as Tony started on her vitals. “Please don’t make me think about it.”

Brooke haltingly got through Tony’s examination, answering his questions in one or two words. With a sigh, Tony reached for her chart. Olivia followed him into the hall. “Doctor—”

“I’m writing her an order for some lorazepam,” Tony told her. “It’s an anti-anxiety drug and it should calm her down—” Lois and Ned rushed up to him. “Brooke is doing as well as can be expected. I think she can leave the ICU in a few more hours — I want to monitor the concussion a bit longer.” He patted Ned’s shoulder before going down the hall.

“He’s going to give her some anxiety medication,” Olivia told the parents.

“Who are you to make decisions?” Lois demanded. She shook her fist at her best friend. “She is my daughter not yours—” And with that, Lois went back into the hospital room where they watched Brooke crying through the clear glass walls.

Ned exhaled slowly. “Let me guess. Lois is hard on Brooke, but you’ve always played mediator.”

“And then she does the same for me and my son. It’s easier when it’s not your kid to see both sides,” Olivia said with a half-smile. “Lois loves too hard sometimes. I get that—that’s how I feel about my Dante.” She looked at Ned. “How are you holding up?”

“I don’t matter,” Ned said softly. “Thanks for stepping in. Brooke’s lucky to have you.”

Port Charles Municipal Building: Kelsey’s Office

 Lucky rubbed his tired eyes as he entered Kelsey’s office, unsurprised to find her seated at the conference table, surrounded by casefiles, and sipping from a mug of coffee. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She sprang up, setting the mug down. She crossed to him, putting her hands on his upper arms. “I wasn’t expecting you this early—”

“Taggert wanted me to update you while he went to the station to talk to Mac.”

“Yeah, Scott is there with him.” She gestured towards a table in the corner of her office where a coffee pot sat. “There’s coffee if you need it.”

“Thanks.” Lucky went to pour himself a cup. “Brooke woke up a bit ago—Taggert called me on my way over. She’s not talking yet.”

“I figured.” Kelsey frowned at him as he stirred sugar into his cup. “You interviewed the kids who found her, right?”

“Kids.” Lucky snorted as he leaned back against the table, sipped his coffee. “Brooke’s nineteen. They’re all round that age. It’s not much younger than me.” He stared down into the black liquid. “Or you.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Anyway, they didn’t have a lot more to offer except to tighten the time frame.” Lucky looked at her. “He’s either following them or lying in wait, hoping someone will walk into the clearing.”

“I think he might be following them.” Kelsey turned back to the statements. “I looked over Watson and Norton — both of these statements are pretty basic. It looks like they gave an initial interview when asked, but then there wasn’t a lot of follow up.” She looked at him. “You’re listed on the second Norton interview. Do you know why she didn’t give more information?”

“Because Vinnie opened the conversation by asking why she was wearing such a revealing outfit that late in public,” Lucky muttered. He sat the conference table. “Wendy Morris refused a follow-up altogether. None of the victims liked him much.” He frowned at her. “But you think they were followed?”

“Unless he picks a different fountain to hang out,” Kelsey said as she sat next to him. “I’m hoping Taggert will be able to get the victims to do a follow-up interview that’s a bit more thorough. It doesn’t look like Vinnie asked any of them why they were in the park but—”

“Why can’t you do the follow-up? Or Scott?”

“I wish I could.” She sighed and shuffled through some paper. “I can be in the room when Taggert takes the statements. I probably will be. But I can’t take them alone. Not when their initial statements are so bare. Because then I turn into an investigator, and I can’t try the case.”

“If he were following them from one of the shops on Quartz Lane, that would make sense. The timeline is pretty narrow with Brooke’s attack.” Lucky pulled out his notepad. “You’ll get the official copies, but basically — Dillon says they went to a double feature at the Harwin. It started at nine, but they were kicked out around 10:30 PM.”

“The call came in at 11:03.” Kelsey tossed one dull pencil aside and grabbed another, already sharpened. “Is he sure about the time?”

“He said they were almost done the first movie. I’m checking with the theater—they keep exact times of when they start films. Dillon can point out the scene where they left.”

“And they left because of a fight?”

“Yeah. Maxie Jones has a boyfriend the rest of them barely tolerate. He was there that night. It seems like it was small stuff — Maxie didn’t like the movie, Lucas insulted her and Kyle, a soda got knocked over, and another patron punched Kyle.”

Kelsey stared at him. “And the movie theater kicked out them out, but not the guy who actually committed the assault?” She shook her head. “Figures.”

“Yeah, I interviewed all three of the boys when Lucas and Kyle got to the hospital. I asked Kyle if he wanted us to look into it, but he was more concerned with Brooke. The fight continued outside. None of the kids are sure how long they were arguing before they noticed Brooke had left.”

“Any idea why she went off alone?” Kelsey asked, scribbling furiously.

“She’s new to the group and probably got annoyed by the fighting. She doesn’t have a car or a phone—”

“Really?” Kelsey interrupted, frowning. “She’s a Quartermaine—”

“Who got into trouble back in New York. This was part of a punishment—she needed to earn those privileges back or pay for them herself.” He shook her head. “But she’s familiar with the bus system from living in the city. There’s a bus stop on Central Avenue that goes past the Quartermaine house. She cut through the park.”

“Okay. So, we have a half hour between being kicked out and the call to 911. How long do the boys think they were searching?”

“Ten minutes,” Lucky offered. “They were able to pinpoint that because the boys split the park in three. Kyle gave his numbers to both Lucas and Dillon by texting to them. That gave me a time stamp. They started walking through the park at 10:50 PM. Figure in maybe five minutes to figure out a search plan. Maybe two or three minutes of talking about Brooke being gone.”

“That’s…” Kelsey sat back. Set the pencil down. “That’s a very tight timeline. If she gives them five minutes of fighting, it’s only about five minutes before they notice she’s gone. To get to that spot in the park, when you’re not looking for someone—”

“Maybe seven minutes. Ten at most.”

“We’ll have a better idea once you get me the exact time they were kicked out, but if Dillon is right — if they’re kicked out at 10:30, Brooke takes off around 10:35, and it takes until 10:45 to get to that spot—”

“Fifteen minutes before Dillon finds her.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Kelsey repeated. She looked at him. “To beat her unconscious, rape her, and flee the scene. That’s not a lot of time.”

“He followed her from the movies and waited until she got to the fountain. Because that location means something. We can’t rule out the lying-in wait, but—”

“We need to know where the other victims were before the attack.” Kelsey rubbed the back of her neck. “But this is just more proof it’s the same man. He has this down to a science. No way this is the first time.”

“Yeah, that’s definite.” Lucky hesitated. “There’s—there’s something else I need to tell you.”

Kelsey shoved her chair out slightly so she could angle herself towards him. “What’s wrong? I know these kids are friends with your sister. You mentioned it—”

“It’s more—” He looked at her. “I told you about Elizabeth Webber, right? That we dated?”

“Yeah?”

“She was raped in the park, too. When we were teenagers. Valentine’s Day, 1998. At the same fountain.”

“The same—” Kelsey’s eyes flared wide. “Lucky, do you think it’s—”

“No, no. I just—they caught the guy. He confessed. He’s in prison for an unrelated crime, but that’s not—” Lucky rubbed a hand over his chest. “I found her like Dillon. She wasn’t hurt as badly. And she didn’t report it right away. That’s not—that’s not why I’m telling you this. I told you that I was kidnapped and brainwashed.”

“You told me that night at Luke’s.” Kelsey put a hand on his arm. “Lucky, I don’t want you to think you have to tell me anything you’re not ready to—”

“She removed memories of Elizabeth, I told you that.”

“Oh.” Kelsey pursed her lips. “I thought you meant recent ones—but…all of them?”

“And not just Elizabeth. I had trouble remembering my family. I remembered more about them, but Elizabeth—that was almost completely gone. It started coming back last night. While I was interviewing Dillon. Like it was happening all over again.” Lucky shook his head. “It’s…I can do the job, but I think—”

“This one hits home more than the other cases because it’s so similar.” Kelsey tightened her hand slightly on his arm. “Hey. I get it. These kids—they’re not much older than you guys were, I guess. And in the same location. And you’re just remembering it again, so it feels like it’s now. I get it, Lucky. And I can tell you’ll be fine doing the job. You finished the interviews. And we’ve put together a good theory.”

She leaned in closer. “But if you want me to tell you if I think it’s affecting your work, I will. I promise.”

“Thanks. I…I really like you,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing just a bit. “I want to keep seeing you. I just—I thought you had a right to know.”

“I appreciate it.” She leaned forward, kissed him, sliding her fingers through his hair. “We’ll get Brooke justice. Like you and Elizabeth Webber got. We’ll put this guy away so he can’t hurt anyone else.”

Corinthos Coffee: Office

 Jason squinted at the rows of numbers in the latest batch of invoices and rubbed his eyes. Sonny wanted to open this place in two weeks—a new legitimate business and place to meet—but everything had stopped while Carly had been missing. The builders had continued their work, but without a business manager on the paperwork—

Sonny had a habit of starting projects that ended up being Jason’s problem.

The door opened and Carly entered, a large book of fabric and patterns in her arms. He got to his feet and rushed to take it from her. She frowned at him. “I’m pregnant, Jase, not dead. It’s not even that heavy—”

But he’d already set it on the table serving as a temporary desk—that was why Carly was here. One of her “getting back to Carly” projects was finishing up the design of the coffee house and furnishing their office. She settled herself in the lone chair he’d vacated, and he stood by her side.

After they’d gone through a few pattern choices, Carly closed the book they were looking at and set it on the table. “I have a confession to make.”

Jason frowned, then leaned against the table so he was facing her. “What’s up? Is anything wrong?”

“I was upstairs when you were over yesterday. I didn’t mean to listen—” She bit her lip. “Okay, I meant to listen. I thought you might say something about Ric—”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Carly—”

“I know, I know. I know better. The thing is, I only kind of heard what you and Sonny were talking about. But I know he wanted you to keep something from Elizabeth.”

“Carly—”

“And then I see you today—the first time I’ve seen you in a few days mind you—and you look like you haven’t slept. I’m just—” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I feel like I owe Elizabeth since she helped find me. And I know you love her.” She smirked. “I may not understand it, but I know it.”

Jason looked away, sighed. He knew what Sonny thought about this topic, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a bad idea. “You probably saw the papers about Brooke Lynn Ashton.”

“Yeah. I know her a little from when I lived at the mansion. She visited Ned a few times.” Carly leaned back against the chair, rubbing her belly. “What does that have to do with anything—” She tilted her head. “I know Elizabeth was raped when she was younger.”

Jason blinked at her. Shook his head. “How—”

“It came up when she was in the running to be Face of Deception,” she explained. “She had trouble with some of the photoshoots, and I guess we’d rented the same studio where she’d been held with Emily. That photographer, right?”

“Yeah.” He reluctantly told her about the letter, his visit, and Elizabeth’s reaction to his reading the letter. “Sonny thinks I shouldn’t tell her. That if it is related, the PCPD knows about her case—”

“But you feel like you’re sitting on this evidence that her rapist is still out there, and she doesn’t know it,” Carly said. “You have to tell her—”

“I just—she’s going through so much, and she begged me not to bring it up—”

Carly leaned forward. “I know that, and I’m sorry. But you have to tell her. Because she thinks you only read the letter. You already went to see this guy. You know what the letter says. What it might mean for this investigation. I get that it’s going to be hard on her. And I know it’s hard on you. But think about—”

She saw a copy of the Herald buried under some of the paperwork. SERIAL RAPIST STRIKES AGAIN. She picked it up, held it so that Jason could see it. “Four women this year. All of them in the park. Like her. The woman who nearly sacrificed her life to help you? To find me? She’d want the police to have all the information they need.”

Jason exhaled slowly, looked away. “Carly—”

“Not talking to the cops when I was missing—that’s one thing. But—” She raised her brows. “How are you gonna feel if you stay quiet, and someone else gets attacked? What if the PCPD doesn’t make the connection in time? What if this guy hurt other women and they don’t know?”

Carly pursed her lips. “But beyond that, it’s not up to you to decide what Liz can’t handle. You already went to see this guy. You hold on to what you think you know, and it’s going to eat you alive. You think she won’t see it in your face? That she won’t know you’re holding back?”

“Sonny said—”

“Since when do you take advice on women from Sonny? I love him, Jase, but his first instinct is always to keep the secret.” Carly looked at the paper again. “Elizabeth and I are never going to be best friends, but I just—if you keep this to yourself when this guy could be out there raping other women and she finds out? C’mon, Jase. You know her better than I do. How’s that going to shake out?”

She sighed. “You’re going to hurt her either way. This is not a secret you can keep forever. You already know that. You know you have to tell her. So, stop pretending it’s going to suck less a few weeks from now.”

General Hospital: Conference Room

 Ned collapsed into a chair at the long wooden table and put his head in his hands.

It had been hours since Brooke had woken up, crying, refusing to talk to anyone, and Ned simply didn’t know what to do. How to keep Lois from taking his daughter out of the hospital and taking her home.

How to get her justice.

How to make it so that this never happened. He just wanted to turn back time, give his daughter a damned cell phone.

Another Styrofoam cup of coffee was placed in front of him as his two best friends in the world sat down at the table. Neither Jax nor Alexis looked as though they had slept, and Ned was ridiculously grateful to them. His mother and grandfather were trying to run to damage control at ELQ and demanding retractions from the media, threatening them with lawsuits if they didn’t stop using Brooke’s name.

Victims of sexual assault were typically not identified, Alexis had told Ned quietly, but apparently, Brooke’s case was now the symbol of a corrupt and negligent police department, and even the normally staid Herald was trumpeting her case as a need for reform. She was over eighteen, and hey, her name had been leaked, so it really wasn’t their fault.

Ned just wanted them all to go away.

“No change?” Jax murmured. He slid a few packets of creamer and sugar across the table. “She still isn’t speaking to anyone?”

“No. That—that’s not good, is it?” Ned asked. He hated how his voice sounded—high-pitched. Desperate. He needed someone to tell him what came next, and he hated that feeling.

Ned always knew the next step, always knew how to make things better. He was the fucking gatekeeper for the Quartermaines—it was his job to make things better. To protect his family.

Why couldn’t he do that this time?

“I really couldn’t say,” Alexis said, with an almost helpless glance at her ex-husband. “The police are going to keep asking her for a statement unless you bar them—”

“The police,” Ned scowled. “I swear to God—” He pressed his fingertips to his temples and took in a deep breath. “Right. I don’t give a shit about the statement to the police right now. Lois just wants to take her home to Bensonhurst. Pretend none of this ever happened.”

“That might be for the best,” Alexis said, but Jax pressed his lips together, furrowing his brow.

“I think the best way forward is research,” the corporate raider declared. Ned glared at him, but Jax continued. “When I don’t know something, I find someone who does. You can’t know what’s right for Brooke. Or even what might be a good idea. None of us have ever been through anything like this.”

“No, I guess not,” Alexis murmured. “Research, huh?”

“I think we ought to talk to someone who has some experience, and this…” Jax tapped a copy of the Port Charles Sun’s latest edition. “This gives me ideas.”

“Burn down the offices?” Ned asked dryly. He took the paper and skimmed the cover. “It’s just another headline about the PCPD—” He hesitated. “It’s a list of their most recent scandals. Elizabeth Webber.” He frowned. “She was—she was hurt once, wasn’t she?”

“She used to work for you and Chloe, remember?” Jax said. He tapped Elizabeth’s picture. “Chloe said something to me then about her.”

“I remember this now. She was raped by the man who blackmailed Emily,” Ned murmured. “I was there the day at the courthouse when she made her outcry. Edward was upset—he wanted me to see if anything could be done for her. But there wasn’t enough evidence, they said.” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know if I should ask her.”

“She’s been through a lot this summer, Jax,” Alexis told him. “Between a miscarriage in May, Ric’s assault, and then her pulmonary embolism. She nearly died a few times thanks to Ric. I don’t think we want to ask her to revisit this kind of experience.”

“Fair enough,” Jax said. “But you wouldn’t have to ask her for details. It would just be asking her how to talk to Brooke. Should you leave her alone, for example? Push her? She might have some ideas.”

“I guess.” And still, Ned hesitated. He’d already used Elizabeth once as a pawn in his misguided grudge against Sonny Corinthos. He hadn’t done anything really to push her towards Ric Lansing—but he had given Ric support and cover a few times.

He didn’t want to ask her for anything—didn’t feel like she owed him any help at all. But this wasn’t about him—it was about his little girl. And there was very little he wouldn’t do for Brooke.

Brownstone: Living Room

 When Lucas got home from the police station, Bobbie was waiting for him.  She’d been unable to talk to her son since receiving the phone call from Felicia the night before—Lucas had gone to the station, then to the hospital, and then back to the station—and Bobbie hadn’t wanted to hover.

Hadn’t wanted Lucas to feel smothered.

But she called in a favor at work and waited for him to finally walk through the door. She got to her feet. “Lucas.”

“Mom.” Her little boy stared at him, his blond hair disheveled, his dark brown eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. “I thought you—I thought you had to work—”

“Felicia called last night when she picked the girls up from the station.” Bobbie couldn’t stop herself anymore and put her arms around him. Lucas hugged her back. “I didn’t know if you’d want me to come—”

“I’m okay,” he told her quickly. He stepped back. “Really, I mean it didn’t even happen to me, and it’s stupid for me to be upset. I didn’t even do anything wrong. We found her, didn’t we? It’s not—” He swallowed and looked away, his lower lip trembling. “I thought she was dead, Mom.”

“Oh, baby—”

“I thought she was dead, and that it was my fault because I invited her and I let Kyle goad me into a fight, and then we all—we all missed her walking away. It wasn’t that long, but it didn’t matter. She looked like a broken doll laying on the ground, and I—” His voice trembled, and he swallowed again. “I checked her pulse, and I was so damn scared—”

She hugged him again, his words fading away as she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp as she had done when he was a little boy. “I’m so sorry, Lucas.”

“How can a man do that to a woman?” Lucas demanded. “And how the hell can he keep doing it and get away with it?” He drew back with a sharp shake of his head. “It’s just bullshit. I wanted to go to the hospital again when we were done, but Dillon said she wasn’t seeing anyone. Refused to talk to anyone.”

“It’s going to be hard for the next few days,” Bobbie murmured. “You have to just listen to her. Let her set the pace. She knows what she needs. You just have to follow her.”

“I ever find the asshole who did this—” Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he admitted. “But I suddenly understand men like Sonny and Jason today.’

He started for the back of the house where his room was, and Bobbie squeezed her eyes shut. She’d never wanted her little boy to know the horrors of the world up close, but there was no protecting him or anyone else from the evil that walked the Earth.

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

 “I swear to God, the level of incompetence is really starting to piss me off,” Scott seethed as he threw the latest copy of the Herald on Mac’s desk. Behind him, the mayor quietly removed his suit jacket and set it on the back of the sofa. “First I got motherfucking Ric Lansing trying to get the charges dropped—”

“Is that a possibility?”

“This is the same justice system that let him have control of his wife’s medical care less than twenty-four hours after he assaulted her, so I’m not putting anything past these bitches.” Scott all but tore folders from his briefcase. “And now—now I got this serial rapist fuckery—what the hell is this bullshit, Mac?”

“I don’t know where the paper got their information,” Mac said, his expression all but blank. Scott was going to shove his thumb in that bastard’s eye in a minute. “We hadn’t officially linked them—”

“Bull-fucking-shit. I linked them—my office linked them two weeks ago,” Scott said with a stab of his finger. “I called you after the third—an investigation, by the way, on which your boys fucked up protocol again. Lazy ass Esposito wasn’t supposed to be working sex crimes, and yet he grabbed the case and didn’t put it on the report—”

“Taggert took over all three last week—”

“And is the Herald right? Not one of these cases have had their rape kits processed?” Scott demanded. He slapped his hand on the paper. “This is amateur hour, Mac! We’ve talked about trying to get back on the right track and every time we come close—”

“Scott,” Floyd said, but his voice was quiet, so the raging district attorney didn’t hear him.

“We don’t test rape kits without a suspect,” Mac said, but this came with a heavy sigh. “That’s been the departmental policy since it even became an option to process them—”

“What, because of budgets? Fuck that shit, Mac. How the hell can you find a suspect if you don’t test for DNA? How many unprocessed rape kits do we got in this damn building?”

“We don’t get that many rapes, believe it or not,” Mac said dryly. “Maybe ten.” He hesitated. “Fourteen if you count these four.”

“I do count these four,” Scott said, his teeth clenched. “How many of those ten are within the statutes of limitations? Jesus, Mac, if we get DNA profiles, we can stretch out the statutes—don’t you pay attention to the change in the laws? The DNA puts a hold on the statute, but you have to process the kits and get the profile!”

“Scott, there have been budget issues,” Floyd tried again, but this time Scott heard him. He whirled around and shook his finger at him.

“Then you go hold a press conference and you tell this city that quibbling over fourteen thousand lousy dollars, a serial rapist was able to go—”

“He isn’t responsible for all fourteen,” Mac interrupted.

“How the hell do you know that?” Scott shook the paper. “Your idiot detectives couldn’t even link three cases with young brunettes in their twenties being raped at night near fountains in the park. Jesus fucking Christ, Mac! Don’t tell me that these four are the only cases we have in the park—”

Mac glanced at Floyd, who shook his head. Scott narrowed his eyes. “What is this? Do you want me to pull the cases? Because I can—”

“I think there are…” Mac shook his head. “One or two. I’d have to look—”

“Don’t bother. I’m assigning Kelsey to this. She’s going to personally look over every single sexual assault case run by this office since you took over—”

“You don’t have authority.” Mac lunged to his feet. “Who the hell are you—”

“I’m the fucking district attorney, and I can look at whatever case I want. You get them on my desk by the morning, Mac, and you send all the rape kits you can in this building for processing now, or I swear to God, I will leak this to the press myself.”

Scott grabbed his briefcase and files, then stormed out.

Floyd exhaled slowly. “It’s a pity I can’t fire him,” he murmured. “Don’t send the Baker case, Mac—”

“Oh, yeah, because I’m going to get away with holding out on one case,” Mac retorted with a dismissal of his hand. “Taggert worked that case.”

“Her case is officially solved, Mac.” Floyd raised his brows. “Baker confessed. Her kit wasn’t processed, but there’s no reason to.”

“Her case fits the profile—”

“And we have a confession,” Floyd pressed. “You send her case down to Baldwin, he’s pissed off enough right now to see we didn’t process the kit and start asking questions. Don’t send it. You can always tell him later her case was solved.”

Mac sat back down, put his head in his hands. “But Taggert knows it wasn’t supposed to be listed that way. It was supposed to be put on the inactive list. I listed it as solved.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mac. At the end of the day, you made the decision not to investigate Baker and hold up the trial. You and Dara Jensen.” Floyd put his jacket back on, buttoned it. “Which will be the statement I release to the press if this should blow up in our faces.”

Mac scowled as the mayor left, but knew he’d been left with no choice. He had two girls in college—he couldn’t afford to lose his job right now, and that’s exactly would happen if the Baker case went public before the election.

After all, Tom Baker had confessed. Elizabeth had gotten her justice. Even if hadn’t happened in the way it supposed to—

This…the fact that her case seemed similar was just a coincidence. It had to be. She was in his head because of what had happened this summer. He called his secretary into begin collecting the case files.

Elizabeth’s Condo: Living Room

She was almost grateful when the doorman in the lobby telephoned her to say that Ned Ashton was downstairs to see her. Elizabeth honestly couldn’t think what Ned would want from her, but she was happy for the distraction.

Jason had had to go to work, leaving Elizabeth alone with her thoughts. She’d thought about calling Lucky a few times, just to ask about the case. Or to call Bobbie and check on Lucas. She’d tried to sketch, she’d tried to paint. She’d tried watching television and even had attempted to do some reading. But nothing distracted her.

She was starting to get her energy back and struggled to find something to do with it— should she be looking for a job? Some way to fill her hours?

She pulled open the door when Ned knocked, and her chest ached at the sight of Emily and Jason’s cousin, a worried and exhausted father, as he stood on her doorstep. “Ned. I’m surprised to see you.”

“I’m sorry to just show up here,” he said. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat. “Can—Can I come in?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Do you—do you want some water? I keep coffee for Jason, if you want some.”

“No, no, I’ve been drinking my weight in coffee thanks to Jax and Alexis.” Ned rubbed the back of his neck. “Now that I’m here, I’m reconsidering why I came. I don’t have the right to ask you anything—”

“Because of Ric?” Elizabeth tilted her head to the side as she sat on her sofa. She gestured for Ned to sit in the armchair and waited until he did so. “Jason said you helped us figure out it was the house, which led us to the real estate agent. I don’t care that you worked with Ric. I know how hard it must have been when Kristina died last year.”

“You’re…too generous.” Ned rubbed his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve heard what happened to my daughter, Brooke, last night. She was attacked and—” He struggled to get the words out. “Raped.”

“Emily called me.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Did she tell you about what happened to me?”

“Oh. No. I—Jax remembered Chloe saying something, and I remembered the Baker trial. I—” Ned shook his head. “I don’t know what to do to help her. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to act. I just want to make it better, and I know I can’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be asking—”

“Do you think it would help if I talked to her?” Elizabeth offered almost before she had even realized it. “I was a little younger than her, but I remember those first few days. They were…they were the worst of my life. And eventually I went to a support group. I could—if you thought it would help.”

Ned looked stunned. “I had only thought to ask you for some advice, but—” He swallowed hard. “God, yes. I think if Brooke could look at you and know it doesn’t have to mean the end of everything—” He got to his feet. “I would be profoundly grateful.”

She also stood. “Of course. I’ll come by the hospital tomorrow. She might need some time to process and just…be alone. The first twenty-four hours, I was mostly in denial. I didn’t want anyone to look at me.” Elizabeth managed a half smile. “Eventually I let people in.”

“Thank you,” Ned reached for her hand, folded it between both of his. “Thank you. You have no idea—”

“It’s good to know you’re not alone,” Elizabeth told him. “I can at least let Brooke know that.”

I am so ashamed,
I am so ashamed of all the trouble I have caused
I am so ashamed of all these unopened doors
I am so ashamed of what I have become
– You Will Leave a Mark, Silent Film

---

Wednesday, July 16, 2003

General Hospital: Conference Room

Lucky pressed a mug of bad hospital coffee into the younger man’s hands and took a seat across from him. “Are you ready to give a statement now?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Dillon took a deep breath. “Sorry. I know that you guys are just trying to help. I—” He shook his head. “I’m such a fucking coward,” he muttered. “I let her sit in those bushes because I couldn’t do it alone—”

“Hey.” Lucky looked at the miserable brown eyes of the boy sitting across from him and…God, he knew what Dillon was feeling. Without even trying to pull at piece of his memory—

Lucky could remember that shock of discovery, that crushing guilt, that miserable feeling of knowing that no matter what you did, you could never go back. You could never make it unhappen.

He dipped his head, trying to focus. Hell of a time to have memories and emotions rush into his head, into his heart. Use them. Make the connection.

“You waited, what, two extra minutes, Dillon?” Lucky said quietly. “What did that change? Did it make it less awful? I can tell you—” He hesitated. “You’re what, eighteen?”

“Almost nineteen,” Dillon muttered. “Why?”

“I was a little younger than you when I found Elizabeth.” Dillon’s head snapped up at that. “About sixteen, I guess. It was winter. Valentine’s Day. I’d promised that I’d go to the dance with her, but we’d meant it just as friends.”

Lucky managed a half smile. “I knew better. I knew she had a crush on me. But I wanted her sister. When Sarah asked me, I abandoned Elizabeth without a backward glance.” He’d never been able to tell Elizabeth before—that part of the reason he’d agreed to go with Sarah was that he hadn’t wanted to lead Elizabeth on.

“Elizabeth decided to save face, I guess, and made up a date so it would all work out. I don’t know if I believed her. I know I wanted to.” Lucky tipped his head. “But she never came to the dance, and it turns out the Sarah I wanted existed only in my head. All I could think about the entire night was Elizabeth. I got worried about her—she always knew how to get herself into trouble, so I went looking.”

“And you found her—” Dillon swallowed. “Like Brooke—”

“Not exactly. It was actually—” Lucky rubbed his chest, remembering that horrible moment, that stunned terror as he realized the whimpering sounds were Elizabeth as she crawled through the brush. “She was still conscious. He hadn’t—he hadn’t hurt her the same way.” But he sure had destroyed her. “She crawled out of the bushes, and she didn’t even recognize me. When she did, she tried to pretend nothing happened. Like she wasn’t bruised, her dress torn, her shoes broken—” He drew in a shuddering breath. “Anyway. For a long time, I lived with the knowledge if I had just gone to the damn dance with her—”

“Yeah.” Dillon closed his eyes. “Does that go away?” he asked. “You don’t still feel guilty?”

“I got brainwashed by the Cassadines a few times,” Lucky admitted. “And it played with my memories. The way I think about things. And until this minute…I hadn’t been able to remember what happened to her. Not the same way.” And it felt freeing to say that out loud. “But looking at you, knowing what you’re thinking, it’s coming back for me.”  He paused. “I don’t know if the guilt will ever go away.”

“Brooke was a real pain in the ass when she moved here six weeks ago,” Dillon said after a long moment. “Just a raging jackass who never had anything nice to say and got pleasure out of making everyone else miserable, you know? I avoided her like the plague.” He sipped the coffee.

“That changed a few weeks ago. Monica kind of snapped at her, something I don’t think anyone else had done. And I guess—it made Brooke decide to try harder. She got a job at Kelly’s, and Georgie and Lucas were coming around.” Dillon paused. “So Lucas invited her to the movies tonight. This was supposed to be our chance to just hang out. To have fun. But Maxie’s boyfriend is an idiot—” He looked away. “He was a stand-up guy tonight, though. So maybe Maxie’s right. Maybe we just don’t know him that well.”

“You were at the Harwin?”

“Yeah, it was a Bette Davis double feature. Jezebel and Of Human Bondage. I’m kind of obsessed with old movies,” Dillon confessed. “Georgie tries, but I know everyone was bored. And they were in black and white. I should have picked something else, but it was my turn, you know? Lucas and Kyle were arguing even before we went in, but we got almost through Jezebel before Maxie started complaining, then Lucas said something, and Kyle spilled his soda on some guy who punched him—” Dillon shook his head. “We got kicked out.”

“Brooke wasn’t in on the fight?” Lucky asked, scribbling something on his notepad. “This guy who punched Kyle—”

“Oh, he got to stay,” Dillon said sourly. “Because he’s an adult. Whatever. Um, we kept fighting outside. I don’t know how long we were out there when we noticed Brooke was gone.” He managed a weak smile. “I was defending Bette Davis’s honor.”

“Do you think Brooke left on purpose?” Lucky asked. “Could she have seen someone she knows?”

“I doubt it. Brooke really doesn’t know a lot of people here. I know she’s been working at Kelly’s, but—she’s not a really friendly person.” Dillon winced. “That sounds bad. What I mean is—she’s not immediately friendly. Once you get to know her, it’s better. No, I’m pretty sure Brooke went off on her own. There’s a bus stop on Central Avenue, a few blocks from the hotel. She’s taken it before—it goes right past the mansion.”

“Which explains why she was on the south side of the park.” And so close to the bus stop. “Okay, so walk me through realizing she’s gone.”

“It was Lucas who realized it,” Dillon said. “He looked around and she wasn’t there. Um, we got worried right away because Brooke hasn’t lived here long. I mean, I’ve only been here like four more months, but still, it’s longer.” He cleared his throat. “But I figured she’d head for the bus stop. Maxie and Georgie didn’t want to walk in the park, so they volunteered to drive to the bus stop, to see if Brooke went around.”

Lucky hesitated. “Was there a reason they didn’t want to walk in the park?”

“I don’t know, I think their dad—their stepdad, I mean—he said something about the park after dark or something.” Dillon frowned. “I don’t know. They didn’t say anything. Why?”

“Just trying to get a better picture. So, you split up.”

“Yeah, then me, Lucas, and Kyle took the park. Brooke didn’t have a phone on her, so we just kind of walked the paths—separate areas—and I got to the fountain and I saw her shoe.” Dillon’s jaw trembled slightly. “I didn’t—I froze. And I just—I was so goddamn scared I was about to find her dead, and I didn’t want to do that alone.”

“I don’t blame you, Dillon.” Lucas looked down at his notepad. “What time you do think you got kicked out?”

“Oh. Well, the movie started at like nine. We got kicked out at around ten-thirty.”

And the call had come in at 11:03 p.m. that evening. “How long you do think you were fighting outside the theater before you noticed she was gone?”

“Maybe five minutes,” Dillon said with a shake of his head. “But I don’t know. I don’t know the time, but I can tell you what scene we got kicked out at, and maybe theater knows exactly when they started it. Would that help?”

“We’re just trying to narrow down time frames for security footage.” Lucky tapped his fingers against the pad. “Is there anything else?”

“No, um, but is Brooke…” Dillon trailed off. “I just want to go check on Brooke. Can I go?” He got to his feet when Lucky nodded. He waited a moment though. “How did you deal with the guilt?” he asked, avoiding Lucky’s eyes, staring at the ground.

“I decided the best way to make it better was to help Elizabeth. I did whatever she needed when she needed it. I made her my number one priority.”

“And that helped?”

“I could sleep better at night, but for the rest of my life, Dillon, I’ll wonder if I was just a little bit quicker…if I could have prevented it.”

Dillon swallowed. “You said it happened at the same place—at the fountain—”

“Coincidence,” Lucky assured him. “The guy who attacked Elizabeth confessed and is in prison now.” He got to his feet, put a hand on Dillon’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He stepped out into the hall, leaned against the wall, and took a deep breath. He tried to calm the swirling thoughts, the ache in his chest. The flashes in his head. He’d kept it together. He’d gotten through the interview, but, oh, man.

It had started in the park. When he’d walked into that clearing, and he’d just—he’d gone back. Back to the terrible, freezing night when he’d trekked through the snow, his breath white puffs of air. He could remember his irritation at annoying Lizzie Webber who never told the truth if a lie was more interesting.

And then the sound of the bushes rustling—he’d heard her first, her soft whimpers, the crunch of snow as she’d dragged herself back to the clearing—

The look in her eyes, the tear in her dress—

Lucky exhaled slowly, then took out his cell phone and dialed.

“Lucky? Hey. You’re at the hospital, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked as he spoke, so he cleared his throat. “You heard already?”

“Yeah.” Kelsey’s voice was thick. “Yeah. I’m on my way into the office. Scott and I are meeting tonight—Mac’s supposed to come with the details. Damn it. I knew—I knew we didn’t have a lot of time, but I didn’t think—”

“Yeah.”

“And Brooke Lynn—the girl at Luke’s last week—she’s a kid—” He listened as her voice broke. When she spoke again, Kelsey sounded stronger. “I’ll be here all night, but if you can—I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

He closed his phone and slipped it back into his back. He felt better just hearing her voice, but knew he’d have to tell her tomorrow why finding a young brunette in a park had hit him so hard. Lucky knew now it wasn’t fair to go forward without admitting just how much of his previous life Helena had destroyed—

And how he now had to cope with the fact that it was coming back.

General Hospital: ICU Waiting Room

 It was nearly two in the morning before the hospital was able to move Brooke from the emergency room to her own room in the ICU—a precaution, Tony had assured Ned when it was time to make the move. They were concerned about the head injury, the cracked ribs, and Brooke’s unconscious state.

Ned thought, and his mother had agreed, that this sounded more like the hospital trying to cover its ass with the niece of the Chief of Staff and granddaughter of members of the hospital board, but he wanted Brooke to have the best care.

They sat with her in shifts—Dillon and Tracy were taking this half hour as Ned sat in the waiting room, trying to draft a press statement. Alexis, representing both the hospital and the family, had left to find out exactly how Brooke’s name had been leaked to the press.

So far, only the Sun had run her name because the Sun had zero journalistic principles, but Brooke was a Quartermaine and the other media would eventually run with it.

And the fact that he had to run damage control before his daughter was even conscious—

The door to the room opened, and Ned was relieved to find Jax on the other side, with two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. “I thought Alexis said you’d be here tomorrow—” Ned rose to his feet. Jax set the coffees on the small table next to one of the chairs and embraced Ned tightly.

“I turned the plane around over the Atlantic,” Jax told him. He drew back, keeping his hands on Ned’s shoulders. “How is she?”

“Ah—” Ned had to struggle to think straight. “Still hasn’t—she hasn’t woken up. Tony doesn’t seem to think that’s unusual. It’s been about—” He checked his watch— “God, it’s been about five hours. Concussion, sprained wrist, cracked ribs—” His voice faltered. “He beat her within an inch of her life—her face is—” He collapsed onto the seat, his head in his hands. “It’s my fault.”

“Ned—”

“I brought her up here, didn’t care what she thought. I took her phone away, I wouldn’t let her have a car—she was only walking in that park because she was trying to take the bus—”

“Hey, you know better than that.” Jax shook Ned’s shoulder. “This is about the animal who did this to her. No one else.”

“Yeah. Yeah, well, they better hope when they get him, I’m not left alone with him.” Ned looked at his friend. “Someone at the department leaked her name. The press was at the house—Alexis only just managed to get them away from the hospital.”

“Why—why would they do that?” Jax demanded. His eyes flashed. “She’s a child—”

“To cover their asses. The PCPD has been under a lot of criticism for handling Carly’s kidnapping and putting Liz Webber in danger from her violent husband—this shifts it away from their screwups.” Ned shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. Lois is going to come through those doors in an hour or two, and she’s going to be angry with me, and I deserve it.”

“We’ll take this one step at a time—”

The doors opened again, and this time it was his grandfather, looking impossibly old and worn. “I got a copy of the Herald delivered express.” Edward blinked. “Oh. Jax.”

“Edward. Is there anything I can do for you? Get you? Some breakfast?” he asked, turning to Ned, but Ned just shook his head.

“Grandfather, tell me the Herald didn’t publish her name—”

“No. Only the Sun, and believe you me, I already have Alexis drawing up a lawsuit. I am going to buy that rag and burn it to the ground,” Edward growled. He tossed the paper down on the seat next to Ned. “The Herald has another story that might interest you.”

Ned picked it up and just stared at the two-inch banner headline. SERIAL RAPIST STRIKES AGAIN

“Serial…” he swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the paper hard. “What the hell is this—”

“Brooke is the fourth young woman attacked at a fountain in that park since February,” Edward revealed, jabbing his finger at the paper. “According to the Herald, the department refused to make a connection after the first two attacks in February and May, and then asked the paper to hold the story after the third—”

“Two weeks ago,” Ned breathed, the fury rising inside like a volcano. “If they had just said something about this before—this didn’t—” He stared at his grandmother. “That goddamn department is so concerned with saving their own asses—”

He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His little girl was lying in the hospital, bruised and broken, because the PCPD hadn’t bothered to warn the public.

He looked across the room, at the notebook where he’d been scratching out a draft of a press statement.

Ned was going to destroy the career of any man who had held back this story and make them regret the day they’d pinned on a badge.

Port Charles Airport: Arrivals Hall

Dante moved from one foot to the other, his eyes studying the arrivals board closely. The chartered flight from New York City had landed ten minutes ago, so where the hell were they?

Cruz nudged him and offered a cup of coffee he had bought from one of the stalls nearby. The arrivals hall was basically deserted this early in the morning—Port Charles saw its share of international and domestic flights, but few of them arrived in the hours between four and seven.

“You know, if Mac tracks the leak back to you—”

“I didn’t tell them her name,” Dante muttered. “They must have gotten that somewhere else. I just wanted them on the serial rapist. I wanted the city to know—” He shook his head. “I didn’t look out for Brooke when she got here. Not like I should have.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Doesn’t matter. I could have done more.” Dante clenched his jaw. “So now I will. The PCPD isn’t going to sweep this story under the rug anymore. They’re going to do this right, and the only way they’ll process those damn kits is if they have to.”

He saw the two women walking briskly towards him—both dark haired and petite, but the anger and despair radiated from Lois Cerullo even from fifty feet away. With a large handbag over her shoulder, her almost black hair cropped short to her chin, Lois’s expression was set in battle mode.

Behind him, Dante’s mother, Olivia Falconieri, looked tired and simply sad. Her streaky caramel hair pulled into a messy tail, pieces of it falling in her face and around her neck. She carried a duffel bag and pulled a smaller travel carry-on behind her.

“Hey, kiddo,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his cheek. “Has there been anything? We couldn’t get any service in LaGuardia—”

“Brooke was moved to her own room in the ICU—” At Lois’s muffled gasp, Dante hurried to explain. “Lucky Spencer has been at the hospital all night monitoring her, and he says it’s just because of her concussion—”

“And the fact that she’s a Quartermaine,” Olivia said dryly. She sighed and looked at her old friend. “Why don’t you let Dante drop you at the hospital and I’ll check in our things at the hotel.”

Dante shuffled his feet. “I’m supposed to remind you that the Qs have offered—”

“I’m not staying in that house.” Lois rubbed her forehead. “Yeah, yeah, that’d be great, Liv. I want to see what’s going on, and how soon I can take Brookie home.” Her eyes were glimmering with tears. “This was a gigantic mistake, sending her here when I damn well knew that Ned was too worried about himself to look after her.”

“Lois,” Olivia murmured. She touched her friend’s shoulder. “C’mon. Don’t start with that tonight. I always thought he was a good guy who didn’t know what the hell he was doing. I don’t want you to fight with him.”

“Yeah, okay.” Lois looked at Dante—who was also her godson—and nodded. “Let’s—” She seemed to notice Cruz at his side. “Who’re you?”

“My roommate and another rookie,” Dante told her. “Cruz just—he wanted to keep me company while I waited.”

“Yeah, you can drop me at the hospital, too,” Cruz told Dante. “I’m supposed to relieve Lucky. I’m very sorry, Ms. Cerullo. Brooke seems like a great girl, and I know that we’ll work hard to find this guy.”

Dante wanted to argue with his friend—they were only rookies and what could they really do—but this wasn’t the time, so he took the bags from his mother and started for the parking lot.

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

It was rare to see Garrett Floyd in a full-fledge rage, and to be honest, under other circumstances, Mac might have enjoyed it. But right now, he just sat back in his desk chair, his hands clasped in his lap, and waited for him to wind down. It was just past seven in the morning after a long night, and he was more interested in finishing his coffee than trading insults.

Floyd raged about the incompetency of the officers, the inability to control leaks, protect victims, and keep the streets safe. He fired Mac six times during the rant, but that was normal. Floyd usually fired Mac once a month, but then remembered why he kept Mac on.

For better or worse, Mac played ball when Floyd needed him to, and that made him more valuable than anyone else who might take over.

“Who the hell leaked the girl’s name?” Floyd demanded. He shook the newspaper in Mac’s face. “I got not only Edward Quartermaine threatening me, but a state senator—and goddamn Hilary Clinton contacted my office, worried about victim’s rights.”

A former First Lady and current sitting United States Senator. Mac raised his brows. Edward was bringing in the big guns. Not that Mac blamed him—the PCPD had sat on a serial rapist for at least the last two weeks, hoping that they could apprehend the guy before they had to terrify the public.

Taggert had argued, but Mac knew the company line. Alerting the public to danger in their midst months before a mayoral election was not even an option. Without convincing evidence that they were linked, and with a direct order from the mayor—Mac’s hands were tied. In a twisted way, he was glad one of his officers had leaked the information and relieved him of the decision.

“I don’t know which one of my guys leaked the name—and before you throw Capelli at me—he’s still on suspension for two more weeks,” Mac reminded him. “I told you that my guys wanted to put out a warning. You vetoed it.”

Floyd bared his teeth with a growl. “If I have to sacrifice you and throw you under the bus—”

Calmly, Mac reached into his desk, pulled out a tape recorder and pressed play. After getting the notification from Taggert about Brooke Lynn Ashton, Mac had come into work, gone into his office, and cued this tape up.

I don’t want any goddamn people talking about a serial rapist—you issue that warning, and I’ll replace so you damn fast—

Floyd narrowed his eyes. “You recorded me.”

“Since the Tom Baker case and the first time you tried to sacrifice this department for an election, yeah. I also have the memo you sent out. So does the DA’s office.” Mac looked at him. “Brooke was with my daughters last night. It could have been one of them. For years, I’ve done what you asked. I’ve pushed on suspects, made some things less of a priority—I’ve done what you asked.” Mac leaned forward. “I will eat this story, I will personally take the blame, but this is it. This is the last time you push me around and threaten my job.”

“I can put anyone else in your job—”

“And I’ll release this tape. You think Edward Quartermaine is crawling up your ass now? The deadline to register for the election is July 31. You think the Quartermaines won’t throw their weight behind any goon on the street if I tell them you’re the one who pushed back on a public warning?”

Floyd yanked his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “How long have you been waiting to pay me back for the Baker case?” he demanded.

“You asked me to ignore protocol and close a rape victim’s case so that Baker could go to jail faster. I did that because I honestly thought Baker was the guy.” Mac shook his head. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Listen to me—”

“In the last six months, four young women have been attacked and raped in the Port Charles Park. Near fountains. Five years ago, Elizabeth Webber was raped at the same location as Brooke. We never ran her rape kit—never knew if there was DNA to be found on her dress.”

Floyd’s face paled. “Are you going to run it now?”

“What do you think it would do to the election if we did?” Mac murmured. “If that kit came back with DNA that matched the new victims? You think anyone is going to care that we thought Baker was the guy? No. We run that rape kit now, you’re not the only one who will pay. I’ll go down with you.”

He looked at the photographs on his desk. On one side, he stood with both his girls at Georgie’s high school graduation only last month, and on other side, Robin and her father, Robert—the last photo of the two of them together. They all looked at him, accusing.

He’d done the wrong thing five years ago and he was terrified that the same man was at work now, but if Mac could catch this guy now—if he could make it right—

Then no one would ever have to know what a terrible choice he’d made. He’d had his reasons, and maybe some would believe him. Forgive him.

But it wouldn’t ever take the horror away. It wouldn’t ever erase the guilt.

“Not unless I have to,” Mac said finally. “But I’m not the only one who knows about that case. Taggert worked it—he thinks the rape kit was already run. That we had a negative return. Lucky Spencer found her that night. They both work for me. And Elizabeth Webber is about to be the star witness against Ric Lansing.”

“Mac—”

“I can spin it if I have to. We thought we had the guy, Baker confessed. Closure. I might take a hit—but it wouldn’t be fatal. But you better hope Edward Quartermaine doesn’t make the connection. You wanted that case to go away so the Quartermaines would stop pressuring you, but you and I both know that he never wanted us to throw Elizabeth away with it.”

Floyd gritted his teeth. “Mac—”

“She’s dating his grandson. And the Quartermaines are even fonder of her now than they were before. If it comes out that we didn’t run the rape kit, Edward Quartermaine will put the entire force of all his connections against someone in the fall.”

“You’ve made your point. We’ll just agree that I was perhaps…hasty…in my decision not to issue a public warning. I’ll have my office draft a statement.” Floyd hesitated. “I know that you hate what we did in the Baker case, but we had no way of knowing Baker didn’t do it—we still don’t know—”

“If we had investigated it properly, maybe we would know.” Mac rose to his feet. “I have a briefing with my guys. You know the way out.”

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

Sonny carefully folded the Port Charles Sun and exhaled slowly. He hadn’t been close with Lois Cerullo or anyone in the Bensonhurst crowd since he had migrated up to Port Charles to work the clubs for Frank Smith in his early twenties. There hadn’t been much to stay around for after Connie Falconieri had dumped him.

He and Lois had briefly resurrected their friendship when she’d been married to Ned, but it brought back too many memories and Lois had never been comfortable with his criminal tendencies. But he knew Brooke Lynn, had seen her around town as a child—

He’d been, literally her godfather, along with Brenda.

And now, according to the tabloids, she’d been brutally beaten and raped in the park. Just like three other women.

Max knocked on the closed door, then opened it. Sonny looked up to find Jason standing in the hallway, looking again as if he hadn’t slept. He knew why, of course—

The visit to Tom Baker had suddenly taken a new, horrifying meaning. If he hadn’t been the one to attack Elizabeth—if the animal was still out there—

Could it be the same man?

Jason closed the door behind him and just stood there. Silently.

“I saw,” Sonny said. He scowled at the tabloids. “I thought they weren’t supposed to print names, but then again, this is the same damn paper the PCPD leaked the affair to.”

Jason sat on the sofa, put his head in his hands. “I tried to tell her last night. I just—I just started with something small. That I had the letter, that I’d read it—”

“Jason—”

“And she was angry with me. Hurt. It was just like you said. I put it back in her head, and then Emily called her last night—it happened at the same place, Sonny.”

Sonny nodded, gesturing towards the Herald laying underneath the Sun on the coffee table. “Yeah, the paper said it was in the park—”

“No. The same exact place. Sonny, they found Brooke Lynn Ashton at the same fountain where Elizabeth was attacked.” Jason shook his head. “I can’t—I can’t ignore that. Baker says he didn’t do it, and now apparently, there’s someone raping young women in the park. They said all of the women were in the same age range, all with brown hair—”

“I get it, Jason. I know what it might mean. What did Elizabeth think about it—”

“We didn’t—I didn’t ask, and she didn’t say. I couldn’t.”

“That’s smart.” When Jason looked at him, surprised, Sonny continued, “Don’t bring it up. The last thing she needs now is to think it’s the same guy, Jase. It’s bad enough that she’s thinking about it. You said she was upset just at the thought of you reading the letter—what—”

“It’s not just about not lying to her—I mean, it’s that. But it’s—if this is the same guy, Sonny, then it’s not just these four women. It’s Elizabeth. Her attack was more than five years ago.” Jason swallowed hard. “How many other women are there?”

“Yeah.” Sonny got to his feet. “Yeah, but you’re not the only one who knows about her attack. Taggert worked her case, didn’t he? He’s still there. And Lucky Spencer—they were friends. He’s on the force now. Her case is a matter of public record. What’s it gonna serve for you to turn that letter over to the police and force Elizabeth to confront something that might not even be true?”

“Come on—”

“And even if you did tell the PCPD, what makes you think they’ll handle it right?” Sonny shook his head, crossed to the minibar and poured himself a glass of water. “They couldn’t find Carly. If you believe the press, they didn’t even notice they had a serial rapist. You gonna put Elizabeth through this for something that might not be worth it?”

“Sonny—”

“I just—” Sonny hesitated. “I don’t know.  It’s up to you, Jase, but what does it change? It’s been five years. They might not be able to open her case again. Why do you have to be the one that drags this up for her? She has closure right now, Jason. You want to take it away?”

“No. But—”

“And is there any reason it has to be today? Right now? Why don’t you give it a few days? Let all of this settle.” He put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Give her time to settle. Isn’t her protection hearing coming up next week?”

“Yeah.” Jason nodded. “Yeah, I guess you have a point. I just—I don’t want to hurt her, Sonny. But I’m not sure there’s a way to avoid it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go home, shower and change. I have to be at the warehouse in a bit.”

“Okay.” Sonny watched him go, then shook his head again. Man, he did not envy Jason this dilemma.

“You told him to lie to her.”

Sonny turned to find Carly standing at the top of the stairs, one hand braced on the banister. “Carly—”

“I don’t know what secret Jason’s keeping,” she said as she slowly made her way down the stairs. “But if it’s about this attack on that poor girl—if he knows something, he should tell someone.”

“You know, what happened to not cooperating with the police?” Sonny muttered. He grimaced, his head starting to spin.

“I get that lying and keeping secrets is your favorite thing to do, Sonny, but believe it or not, not every woman finds it charming,” Carly snapped. “How can you want Jason to keep quiet about something like this? You know Lois. Her daughter has been attacked—”

“When?” Sonny demanded. His skin felt pale, clammy. He could feel a bead of sweat sliding down his face. “How? Brooke’s in New York. I haven’t seen her since she was christened.”

Carly blinked, her mouth falling open slightly. She gestured at the papers. “Last night, Sonny. Brooke moved here to go to college—”

“That’s not possible. She can’t be more than ten,” Sonny said as he yanked the papers up. “She—” He closed his eyes. “No, no. I remember now. She’s…she’s nineteen. I—I—think Benny reminded me to send her a card last year.” He laughed, a bit uncomfortable now. “I can’t—I’m sorry. They just—kids grow up so fast, you know.”

“Yeah.” Carly squinted at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sonny rubbed his chest. “I’m fine. I, ah, have work. I have to go to work.”

General Hospital: Gail’s Office

“Where do you want to start?” Gail asked as she leaned back in her armchair, a notepad in her lap, a pen in her hand.

“I got a call from Emily last night,” Elizabeth confessed, then told Gail about Brooke and asking Jason to come over. “He encouraged me to talk about why things with my rape are—” She sighed. “In my head.”

“It was on your mind before the letter?” Gail asked.

“Sort of, yeah.” Elizabeth waited a moment, trying to find the courage, the energy to do this. “When I found out Ric had been drugging me since January, I thought about what had happened then. Was there some reason he started it then, you know? And I remembered that after my grandmother’s reception, I was so tired and just…not ready to go back to my studio. I had put off the grieving because I kept planning—and then it was over, and she was buried.”

Elizabeth stared at her clasped hands. “Ric said he’d taken a room in the hotel for me because he’d thought I might be too tired, and he wanted me to be comfortable. I remember thinking—God—I remember thinking that I was so lucky to have him. He had helped me with Gram’s estate. He’d been there when I found out—he’d explained all he estate paperwork to me, and—he kept putting me first.”

Her eyes glittered and her voice thickened. “And I hated myself because I kept thinking—I kept wishing he was Jason. That I wished that I loved Ric the way he seemed to love me, but I couldn’t. And I thought I was pathetic because it was clear Jason didn’t. I told myself that I was going to make it work with Ric. That’s why I didn’t—I didn’t really—”

She bit her lip. “We went upstairs and inside the suite, he offered me a glass of wine. I was grateful to have company, and I drank the wine. I had another glass—and then I didn’t really remember anything else.” She met Gail’s warm eyes, filled with concern. “I woke up the next morning, naked under the sheets, next to Ric. I just—I thought maybe I had been tipsy, or God, maybe I’d had another panic attack like I had with Zander.”

“So, you didn’t think about it much,” Gail said quietly.

“No—I just…I got dressed, left him a note, and went home. I just—I thought maybe I had rushed it, and I wanted to pull back, because I still didn’t quite—” She bit her lip. “It’s the only time I really don’t have any memory of having sex with Ric. The other times we were together, I know he always fed me something he’d made or brought some wine, but I can honestly say that I didn’t think much of it. That maybe he put more in my glass that first time—enough to make me black out.” Her lip trembled. “The way he must have done to Carly.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t remember resisting. It was usually his idea, and I just—I went along with it because I didn’t really care. I—we weren’t even together after I found out about what he’d done to Carly, and then what happened with Courtney and learning about Sonny—even after I went back to him—I shied away from him and I wasn’t drinking any more wine.”

“You think Ric drugged you the first time to get you to sleep with him, and then after that, maybe to just make you less resistant,” Gail said slowly. For the first time, Elizabeth was able to read the disgust and anger in her grandmother’s old friend.

“I’m pretty sure. And if it’s true, then I know it means Ric raped me.” Her voice faltered, and Elizabeth closed her eyes against the rush of tears. “And I just don’t know if I can really—I don’t know if I can deal with this. If I can even allow myself to accept it.” She accepted the tissue Gail offered her. “I had to claw and drag myself back the last time—and how can I accept it’s happened again?”

“I don’t know,” Gail said honestly. “But I think just addressing it is the first step.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Knowing that you’re not alone is also important. Have you told anyone else?”

“I told Jason last night. He encouraged me to talk to you. That’s—that’s good, right? That I opened up to him before you assigned it for homework.” Elizabeth managed a smile. “He was so angry, but he tried to hide it. Tried to make me the focus.” She sighed. “I guess it makes sense that I’m thinking about all of this now. I told you about that letter from Tom Baker, and then Jason told me he’d read it—”

“He did?” Gail repeated, her brows lifting slightly. “When?”

“He grabbed the letter the day I tried to throw it out. I guess he thought I’d change my mind. I don’t know what it says, and I don’t want to know. He’s up for parole, and I just—I mean, is it wrong that I don’t want to deal with it?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s wrong. I think you should just be aware of why you don’t want to deal with it. You do have a great deal going on, and it can often feel overwhelming to tackle all your trauma at the same time.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of what I figured. I mean, it doesn’t matter. Tom Baker is in jail. He—hearing about Brooke was hard because she was…raped in the park. Like I was.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Apparently at the same place in the park.”

“Really?”

“It’s in a quiet area. Just the fountain with a few benches and lot of bushes and trees. I mean…I don’t—” Elizabeth shook her head. “Tom Baker confessed. I have my justice. I hope Brooke and the others get theirs. It’s hard enough for me to wake up with what Ric’s done to me.”

“Okay.” Gail pursed her lips. “Are you all right with what Jason did? That he read it?”

“I don’t know. I guess, I understand it. And part of me—” She tilted her head towards the ceiling and blew out an exasperated breath. “As irritated and upset as I was with him last night, there’s part of me that is relieved. Because he didn’t want to lie to me. Even when it might hurt me, he didn’t want to lie to me.”

“And that matters?”

“It’s everything.” Elizabeth met Gail’s eyes. “Being honest, being open—that’s the thing we’ve both struggled with. He’s trying as much as I am. He started to tell me, but then he listened when I told him to stop. It’s just…it means that we’re on the same page. Finally. After all these years. It gives me hope that I can stop saying my goal is to be okay. That one day, I can actually hope to be happy. With Jason.”

Why’d you have to wait?
Where were you, where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
Why’d you have to wait
To find me?
To find me?
– You Found Me, The Fray

---

Tuesday, July 15, 2003

Port Charles Park

If anything happened to Brooke, his brother would make his life a living hell.

This had been the reasoning that Dillon offered to Kyle and Lucas when they had stopped fighting long enough to notice Brooke was gone.

Kyle had smirked, and Lucas had rolled his eyes, because that was clearly Dillon’s problem. Well, bastards, it was going to be their problem, because Ned was a Quartermaine.

And Quartermaines were really good at revenge.

Maxie and Georgie had agreed to get into Maxie’s car and drive around the park while the three guys had split the park into thirds, planning to meet on the sidewalk at the other side.

“You got your cell phones, right?” Dillon asked as they stood at the entrance of the park and at the division of the pathways. “They’re charged?”

“How dumb do you think I am—” Kyle held his hand up as Lucas opened his mouth. “Don’t say it. Never mind. We’re in a crisis here. Let’s knock this shit off until we find Brooke.” He checked his watch. “Maxie and Georgie should be at the bus stop right now—”

“And they haven’t called yet, so she’s probably in the park,” Lucas said, craning his neck with a grimace. “It’s a big park, do you think she got lost? I mean, how often did she visit growing up?”

“Not a lot. Okay, I’ll go straight down the middle,” Dillon told them, feeling better that the other two were more concerned. “Kyle, take the far left, Lucas, the far right. We’ll meet at the bus stop.”

“Okay.” Lucas took a deep breath. “She’s probably lost,” he repeated.

The trio divided and Dillon started his trek through the center of the park. He called Brooke’s name every few minutes, irritated that he’d allowed the night to end in complete disaster. He’d tried to be the good guy, hadn’t he? Tried to make peace between Maxie and her boyfriend and the rest of the group. He’d tried to make Brooke give his friends a chance, but what did it get him?

Searching the damn park at eleven at night for his niece who had decided to go off on her own. When Dillon found her—

The pathways met one another at the center of the park before splitting again, and Dillon sighed when they all three reached it at about the same time. “No sign?”

“Not a peep. Did you try her phone?” Kyle asked.

“Her parents took it as a punishment,” Dillon said. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be bringing that up in some great detail when Ned is blaming me for losing his kid.” He gestured to the path. “Let’s keep going.”

Five minutes later, Dillon reached the fountain that rested near the south entrance to the park—just twenty feet from the bus stop. He stared down at the ground—at the single sneaker laying on its side near the bench.

He knew that sneaker—the bright electric yellow high-top—Brooke had worn those shoes that night, and he’d pointed out it was so bright they would get kicked out of the theater. She’d just rolled her eyes—

Dillon’s heart started to pound—could you actually hear the sound of your own heart? He fumbled in his pockets for his phone and shakily—he found Lucas’s number in his contacts.

“Lucas.”

“You found her?”

“I don’t—I found her sneaker.” Dillon swallowed hard. “I haven’t—I didn’t look any further.”

“Where?”

“The south fountain—”

“I’ll meet you there.”

He placed a similar call to Kyle, put his phone back in his pocket and just stood there, listening to the water trickle down in the fountain. “Brooke?” he called, his voice trembling. “Brooke?”

Nothing.

Maybe she’d lost the shoe and was now, limping her way to the bus stop, cursing—but Dillon couldn’t think of any way someone could lose their sneaker that didn’t end in…

He’d watched too many movies. That’s all this was.

Lucas appeared, running towards him, breathing hard as he drew to a stop. He cleared his throat as he, too, saw the sneaker. “Dillon—”

Kyle arrived and the three of them stared at the sneaker for another long moment. “The girls haven’t called, have they?” Kyle asked, his voice subdued.

“No.” Lucas squeezed his hands into fists. “Should we call the police—”

Dillon took a deep breath. “No, I just—I didn’t want to be alone if I—” He met their eyes, these two men who had been at each other’s throats earlier. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

“So, let’s look,” Lucas said, putting a hand on Dillon’s shoulder. As a group they began a search of the bushes and trees around the fountain—

It didn’t take them more than two minutes to find her.

Her jeans tossed beside her, her t-shirt in shreds, and her other sneaker peeking out from under a bush.

Her legs with scratches and blood—Dillon’s heart seized. Her legs laid open. Oh, God.

“Is she—” Kyle asked with a waver in his voice.

The pre-med Lucas took a deep breath and moved forward. With shaky fingers he reached for Brooke’s pale slim arm, placed two fingers at her wrist. After a moment, he nodded. “There’s a pulse. Call—call 911.”

He backed away and stopped Kyle as he started to approach. “Don’t touch her. Don’t touch anything. You’ll mess up the scene.” He met Dillon’s eyes as Dillon put his phone to his ear. “Tell them she’s unconscious, her pulse is faint, and that she’s been sexually assaulted.”

Port Charles Park

It was Taggert’s worst nightmare. Another attack in the park before the city council had had a chance to approve extra security. After the mayor had denied them the chance to warn the public. Taggert had hoped for more time, for a longer cooling off period.

But this guy had gone from eleven weeks to five to two. Would there be another victim this week? Next? How was Taggert supposed to protect the public if he wasn’t given the tools?

And the identity made everything worse. The granddaughter of the town’s most powerful and ruthless family. Not that it mattered to Taggert, but it would matter to the Quartermaines. It would matter to the mayor, to Mac, to the press—

Even if Brooke’s name was kept quiet, he knew the shit had hit the fan. They’d never be able to keep the Herald from printing the story. Which might be the only sliver of good news he’d find in this tragedy.

Taggert pulled the car to screeching halt at the south entrance to the Port Charles Park, his siren still wailing. He switched off the ignition, looked at the pale countenance of Lucky Spencer in the seat next to him. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Lucky nodded. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. We need to—we need to get this guy, Taggert. Four women in six months—”

“Yeah, I know.”

They got out of the car and hurried the short distance between the entrance and the fountain, where they found a group of teenagers clustered. Taggert recognized the commissioner’s daughters standing with a trio of boys. Georgie had buried her head in Dillon Quartermaine’s chest, as her sister clung to a boy he didn’t recognize. Off to the side, Lucas Jones stood somberly, staring at the bushes.

Taggert’s attention was drawn to the stone bench and something rolled in the pit of his stomach. He glanced at the fountain, at the bench, and then at Lucky, who seemed to be coming to the same realization.  He hadn’t made the connection when he’d gotten the call, had only heard the bare details.

But now he remembered another young girl’s life destroyed in those bushes.

Beyond them, the crime scene unit had already arrived along with paramedics. Brooke Lynn Ashton had been loaded into a stretcher, a white cotton sheet pulled up to her chin. Behind her, a tech had plastic bags filled with cloth that resembled clothing, sneakers, and a purse.

“I want to go with her,” Dillon said. “I didn’t call Ned yet, but I want to go with her.” He stared at Taggert, almost defiant. “I’m her family—”

“Lucky,” Taggert said. “Take Dillon to the hospital. Get me a statement, okay?”

Lucky nodded. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, okay. What about the notification—”

“Mac is already on his way to notify Ned.” Taggert put a hand on Lucky’s shoulders. “I know where we are, man. Put it away for now.”

“Yeah.” Lucky cleared his throat. He looked at Dillon. “C’mon, I’ll drive you in the car. We’ll probably beat the ambulance there.”

Dillon murmured something to Georgie who nodded and then broke away from her, following Lucky out of the park. Lucas stepped forward to put an arm around Georgie’s shoulder.

Taggert approached those who were left. “What happened tonight?” he asked. He generally didn’t like group statements, but there was little doubt that none of these kids were involved, and they needed to stick together.

The dark-haired boy with Maxie cleared his throat, stepped forward. “I’m Kyle Radcliffe. Um, we went to the movies—the Harwin—” he gestured behind him, in the direction of the theater. “It was a double feature. It started around nine, I think. But we, ah, got kicked out around ten-thirty.”

Taggert lifted his brows. “Okay.”

“We were fighting outside,” Maxie said, miserably. Her voice sounded thick as though she’d been crying. “All of us, except Brooke. I guess she got bored or mad, and decided to go. We didn’t—” she sucked in a deep sob. “We didn’t notice.”

“She knows all the bus stops in Port Charles,” Lucas offered, dully. “She doesn’t have a car, and she’s used to them from being in the city. She’s taken the bus from Central a lot because it has a route past the Quartermaine estate.”

“So, we thought maybe she’d gone through the park,” Kyle picked up the story. “Maxie and Georgie got in the car, went looking on the sidewalks, and we divided up the park.”

“How did you end up here together?”

“Dillon saw Brooke’s sneaker out here.” Lucas gestured. “And he didn’t—” He swallowed hard. “He didn’t want to find her alone. He called us both, and we came to meet him. And then we found her.” His voice faltered. “Um, her clothes were torn and scattered all around her. Her other sneaker—and she had bruises and cuts—um, her—” He shook his head.

“We thought maybe she’d been hurt…” Kyle continued another swallow. “Because her jeans were off—and her legs were…anyway, we called 911, and then I called Maxie. I didn’t want them out there alone.”

“We came here and waited for the cops,” Georgie said. She sniffled. “Can we go? I want to go to the hospital. I want to check on her.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll probably have to sit down for a more formal statement, but yeah.” Taggert watched as the group filed out of the park, then turned to the crime scene techs. “Frankie, what do we got?”

“We got clothes, we got sneakers. Not much else.” Frankie shrugged. “Kids are right, though. She was likely raped or there was an attempt. We found her underwear in shreds near the jeans. He really did a number on her.”

“Fantastic.” Taggert scrubbed his hands over his face, a sour feeling settling in his abdomen. It was only going to get worse.

Quartermaine Estate: Study

 Ned grimaced and looked at his mother’s tired face as she stared at the report he’d just handed her. He looked at his grandfather, who looked impossibly old. They were surrounded by paperwork, similar reports. All of them with the same results.  “We’ll have to do an immediate recall.”

“I know.” Tracy leaned back, folded her hands in her lap. “I wish I could say we only used the latex in the one product, but—”

“If we get out of ahead of this—” Edward cleared his throat, but he looked every bit his of eighty-five years. “So far we’ve only located one damaged shipment. One batch of faulty latex. You’ve already tracked the lot numbers, the products that have been shipped?”

“I have,” Tracy said. She looked at Ned. “It’s not a lot, but I’m worried if we don’t do a full recall of all the products, we might miss something. This isn’t something I want to play around with.”

“I know. Neither do I—” Ned glanced up as there was a knock on the door. He frowned, then traded troubled looks with his mother and grandfather. Every member of the family knew they were closeted in here on dire ELQ business.

To interrupt them meant an emergency.

Ned left Edward and Tracy at the conference table and crossed to the door, finding a sleepy, worried Reginald. Their butler retired when Lila did, keeping the same schedule as the woman he cared for. “Reggie?’

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ashton, I know you said you couldn’t be disturbed, but Mac Scorpio said it was an emergency—”

Ned’s hand, wrapped around the brass doorknob, tightened. He knew Mac, of course, but they were not friends, and there was no reason for the commissioner of the Port Charles Police Department to be visiting him this time of the evening. He swallowed hard and followed Reginald into the foyer where a somber Mac Scorpio was waiting.

He was only dimly aware of his mother and grandfather following him.

“Brooke,” he managed. “My daughter.” Because why else would Mac ask for him after eleven at night?

Mac took a deep breath and nodded. “Dillon and a few friends found her in the park. She’s alive—” he hastened to add when Ned started forward. “But she’s hurt.”

“Hurt—”

Monica stepped out of the family room, followed by Alan where they usually shared a night cap before retiring for the evening. “What’s going on—”

“Brooke’s been hurt,” Tracy said quickly, putting a hand on Ned’s arm. “You said Dillon found her in the park—”

“They were supposed to be at the movies,” Monica murmured. “They—” She gratefully gripped Alan’s hand when he offered it to her. “What happened?”

“We don’t know yet,” Mac admitted. “She was unconscious, and she’d been beaten.”

There was a sharp inhale of breath as Edward pushed forward. “How can you not know anything—”

“Father,” Tracy murmured. “Hush. Because it’s just happened.” She looked at Mac. “Was she—was she—” She couldn’t force the words out, and Monica paled. Ned frowned at his mother, saw that his grandfather and Alan also looked mystified.

“Based on the initial report,” Mac said slowly, “we think so.” He looked at Ned, shook his head. “We suspect, in addition to the physical assault, your daughter was—”

Ned threw up a hand. “No. No. Don’t—you don’t—” Because now he knew what why Tracy and Monica had looked so concerned. His little girl. His baby.

Tracy closed her eyes. “Okay, Ned, we’ll go to the hospital. Right now. Father, you should be here when Grandmother wakes up.”

“I’m going to the hospital, too,” Alan declared.

“I have to—” Ned shook his head. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think straight. His little girl. Attacked. Hurt. Violated. “Lois.”

“I’ll call Lois,” Monica said immediately. “I’ll help her make arrangements to get here.”

“Okay.” Ned nodded. “Okay.” He still didn’t move, couldn’t until his mother pressed gently on his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Cruz & Dante’s Apartment: Dante’s Bedroom

Dante had just drifted to sleep after pulling a double shift when his door swung open and the bright lights of the living room woke him.

“Hey, what the fuck man!”

“Sorry—” Cruz grimaced. “But I wanted to—Lucky just called because you—you know her.” He paused. “Brooke Lynn Ashton was just found beaten and unconscious in the park.”

Dante jackknifed into a sitting position. “What? What? What are you—” He shook his head trying to clear the fogginess of the sleep. “What are you saying?”

“She’s on her way to the hospital,” Cruz told him. “I figured—”

Dante just stared at him for a long moment before taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I know her,” he managed. He got to his feet. “Beaten and unconscious in the park,” he repeated. “Wait.”

“Yeah, Lucky didn’t say for sure because he was with Dillon Quartermaine who found him, but it was near a fountain.” Cruz paused and nodded.  “Like the others.”

“Fuck me.” Dante fell back onto his bed. “I gotta call my ma. She’s close with Brooke’s ma and—Christ. A fucking serial rapist and we’re not allowed to tell anyone, hey don’t walk through the park if you’re a young woman with brown hair—”

He lunged to his feet and slammed his fist on the dresser, cracking the cheap plywood. “This fucking city!”

“You want to go to the hospital?” Cruz asked after a long moment. “Be with the family—”

“No.” Dante shook his head. “No. I want to go down to the station and rip my fucking cousin’s head off. That lazy son of a bitch refused to say they were one guy—refused—and Mac insisted on waiting for permission—” He clenched his jaw. “And now Brooke is paying for it. Well, fuck this.”

He reached for his phone and dialed for information. “Yeah, I need the number for the Port Charles Herald.” He reached for a stub of a pencil and started to write.

“Dante, think about this,” Cruz said, crossing the room rapidly, trying to stop Dante from dialing the number he scrawled out on a napkin. “If you tell the press—”

“What, I’ll lose my job?” Dante demanded. “Did Capelli lose his damn job when he nearly got an innocent woman killed? Fuck this. I got into this to protect people, not cover asses.” He jammed every number in. “This city only understands pressure. Change ain’t gonna happen if we shove our heads into the sand. We gotta make it happen.”

“Dante—we don’t know anything—”

“Yeah, I need Jessica Mitchell,” Dante said, naming the reporter on the crime beat. “I know it’s late. Can you just see if she’s still there? I got an anonymous tip for her.”

Wednesday, July 16, 2003

 Condo: Bedroom

It was just after midnight when Elizabeth’s cell phone began to chirp, pulling her out of a fitful sleep. She sighed, sat up, and reached for the phone charging near her bed.

“This better be good,” she grumbled.

“Liz? I’m so sorry for calling this late. Maybe I should have waited, but I was worried you’d hear about it in the papers because I bet the press is already sniffing it out—”

“Em, Em—” Elizabeth folded her legs underneath her. “Slow down. What’s wrong?”

“My cousin Brooke? She was just…I don’t know if you know her.”

“Yeah, she’s been my waitress a few times at Kelly’s—” Elizabeth rubbed her eyes. “She’s okay, right?”

“God. I don’t think so. I’m stuck here, can’t get out of here—I am so sick of this program—”

“Emily.”

“Dillon found her in the park. She was unconscious and hurt pretty bad.” Emily swallowed hard. “And Mom said they think she’s been sexually assaulted.”

“In the park,” Elizabeth repeated. She closed her eyes. “Where in the park?”

“Near the fountain on the south side. Mom said the press already knows somehow—they’re not supposed to report Brooke’s name, but they’re already at the house—I was afraid it would be in the papers—and I just—I wanted you—”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth cut in. “I appreciate it. I’ve been—Thank you.”

She and Emily spoke for a few more moments before they hung up. Elizabeth switched on the lamp next to her bed, unable to handle the shadows in the corners.

The fountain at the south side of the park. The same place where Elizabeth’s world had been broken into pieces only five years earlier.

She didn’t think about it too hard as she pressed a speed dial on her phone. It took a few moments, but a voice came over the line—Jason didn’t sound groggy, and she wondered if he’d had problems sleeping, too, after their conversation at the bridge.

“Hey. I’m sorry—”

“Are you okay? Don’t worry about it—”

“I, um—” Her tears spilled over now. It was in her head now, and she was terrified she might never ever be able to get rid of it. To put it away again. “Ned’s daughter, Brooke—she was raped in the park. At the same place—”

“I’ll be right there, okay? I’m coming over.”

She didn’t even bother to argue with him. She wanted to feel safe, and right now, that meant Jason.

General Hospital: Emergency Room

It was almost surreal, Ned thought, as he sat on a hard plastic chair in the emergency room. He felt as though he were floating above his body. Was he really there? Was he really waiting to hear about his daughter?

Was this really happening?

“Ned…” Alexis rushed in, clad in jeans and a gray sweatshirt. He rose to greet her, and Alexis wrapped him into a tight hug. He buried his face in her hair, but he couldn’t lose it. Not yet.

He had to keep it together.

He drew back from her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Who—”

“Monica called.” Alexis glanced at Tracy, nodded absently in greeting. “She thought you might need someone who wasn’t family. I called Jax—he’s on his way back from Europe. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Ned exhaled slowly. “They don’t know anything yet. I haven’t been able to talk to Dillon—he’s still with the police—” He drew back further and started to pace the small space, dragging his hands through his hair, clutching at the strands. “No one has told us anything about her condition—”

“Does Mac know anything yet?”

“No,” Tracy said with a shake of her head. “Not yet. Monica was supposed to contact Lois—”

“Edward already arranged for a charter flight out of LaGuardia,” Alexis murmured. “She’ll be here in a few hours.”

Tony Jones stepped out from behind a curtain, clearing his throat. Ned turned to face him, Alexis leaving a hand on his shoulder for support.

“Ned, Brooke is—” He hesitated. “She came around in the ambulance and they had to sedate her.”

Ned closed his eyes. “But she’s awake—”

“It was heavy sedation,” Tony said awkwardly. “She has a fractured cheekbone, a concussion, and sprained wrist. She also sustained a cracked rib, so we’re keeping an eye on her for internal bleeding.”

“Was she—” Tracy managed a deep breath. “The police suggested she may have been—”

“There is evidence of a sexual assault,” Tony said with deep regret. “Bruising on the thighs—the PCPD is arranging for our S.A.N.E nurse to take a preliminary rape kit.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ned managed as his knees gave out and he sunk back onto the chair. “Oh, God. Oh, God. What do I do?”

“I don’t mean to make it worse,” Alexis murmured as she sat next to Ned, rubbing his back. “But press is already outside, and Monica said they’d showed up at the house.”

Ned’s head snapped up, flames in his dark eyes. “What?” he demanded. “I thought the identities of sexual assault victims were protected—”

“They are, but I imagine someone leaked it,” Alexis said with a heavy sigh. “I can make some calls—”

“Do it,” Ned ordered. “I don’t want anyone—” He put his head back in his hands. “How is this happening? How can I—What do I do?”

“I wish I knew.” Alexis closed her eyes and rested her forehead on Ned’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ned. I’ll make those calls, and I’ll get them away from the house.”

“When I find out who is responsible for this,” Ned said, lifting his head to meet Alexis’s eyes. “They are going to wish they’d never been born.”

Condo: Living Room

Elizabeth had jerked the door open almost before Jason could knock, throwing herself into his arms. She just wanted to feel safe and warm.

She wanted it to go away—to never think about her rape again.

“Hey,” Jason murmured as he gently steered her back into the apartment and closed the door behind him. He ran his hand up and down her back, his fingers warm and smooth against the thin cloth of her tank top.

“I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy—I mean this didn’t even—” Elizabeth choked out a sob as her voice faltered. She pressed her forehead into chest, covered with a gray t-shirt. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Couldn’t really sleep,” Jason admitted. He took her hand and led her to the sofa where he sat down and she curled into his side. “You said Ned’s daughter was hurt?”

Elizabeth nodded and related the phone call she’d received. “I know Emily was trying to help,” she said. “But at the same time…I don’t know…maybe I could have avoided it.” She grimaced. “But probably not. Brooke works at Kelly’s. She knows the same people. But God, Jason, she was attacked at the same place. How is that possible?”

Jason seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “It probably didn’t help that I told you tonight that—”

“I wish I could blame it on you,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “But the truth is that I’ve been thinking about the rape since before I got that letter.”

Jason frowned at her, shook his head. “Why? What—” He clenched his jaw. “Ric.”

“I think the first time he drugged me was the night I—” Her stomach rolled as she tried to continue. “I don’t—I don’t remember wanting to—but he had been at the viewing and I was tired. I didn’t really want to go home, and he told me he had a room upstairs in case I hadn’t wanted to go home. He gave me some wine, and then—I don’t know. I woke up the next morning, and I just—” She winced as she saw the banked fury in Jason’s eyes. “I knew we’d slept together, but I just…didn’t remember why. I thought I was just sad and lonely. We weren’t together a lot, but I always remember wine or something else he’d brought to eat.”

“He drugged you to—” The muscles in the arm around her tightened until it felt like she was being embraced by concrete. And then, as if it cost him, Jason took a deep breath, relaxed his arm. “Have you talked to Gail about it?” he said finally.

“No. I guess I just—I wasn’t ready to think about it—because I know that’s—” Elizabeth pressed her face into his side, trying to find the courage to say it aloud. “I know that it means Ric raped me.”

She felt his hand clench into a fist. She leaned up, unwound his arm from around her, and took his clenched fist between her own hands. “I’m sorry, Jason. I should—”

“No, this—it didn’t happen to me,” Jason said after a moment. “I’m sorry. I just—I know he went after you because we’d been together. That doesn’t make it my fault, but I wish like hell—” He drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled it. “You should talk to Gail. It’s not that I don’t want to hear it,” he added. “It’s just—”

“You love me,” she murmured, “and it hurts you to hear me talk about things that hurt me.” She kissed his knuckles until his hand loosened. “Yeah. I think between admitting that out loud, the letter, and what happened with Brooke—I think I should talk to Gail.” She waited a long moment. “Will you—will you stay tonight? Not to—I just don’t want to be alone.”

“Yeah…” Jason nodded with a raspy tone to his voice. “Yeah, I can stay.”