Written in 61 minutes.

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General Hospital: Lobby

By the time physician appointments ended at seven and visiting hours at eight, the lobby of General Hospital was so quiet that every whisper and even the lightest of footsteps on the linoleum could be heard.

Tonight was no different, though the security guard at the front desk was joined by a handful of uniforms. Elizabeth used her security badge to get them through the front door.

At the desk, one of the cops turned and Jason recognized him—he’d worked with Lucky before. He focused on Elizabeth as they approached.

“Hey, Liz. Mac said you guys were coming by.”

“Cruz.” Elizabeth touched Jason’s shoulder. “Jason, this is Detective Rodriguez. Um, so you know why we’re here.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Uh, let’s head on down.” He signaled towards the elevators, and Jason followed him, his hand in Elizabeth’s. Once in the car, Rodriguez pressed a button for one of the basements, and it began to move.

The doors opened onto a long hallway, with doors every few dozen feet. Rodriguez led them into the first one which had a small room with a large picture window and door to a larger room with a wall of small, rectangular doors arranged in rows and columns.

“You don’t have to go in,” Jason said roughly. “They just need—”

“We’ll do this together,” she told him. Her lips trembled but her eyes were firm. “We’re ready,” she told the cop. He nodded, and knocked on the door to the doctor waiting.

Jason forced himself to keep walking, to keep moving forward. To walk into the room where he would identify his sister’s body.

Wyndemere: Study

Nikolas had stopped crying, but remained on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. His eyes were swollen, the light from the fire burning nearby cast shadows onto his face.

Lulu sat next to him, stroking his hair, her head on his shoulder. Lucky still across the room, unsure how to offer his sympathy. How to process his own grief. He’d forced it down at the garage, had kept it at bay until he’d come into this room.

But just the memory, the quick flash of Emily in this room, smiling at him, had stolen his breath, and brought it all back, like a rush of wind passing through a tunnel, and how did you hold it back when it was roaring past you like a freight train.

“How?” Nikolas finally managed, his voice hoarse and raw. “What happened?”

“We don’t—” Lucky took a moment. “We think it was strangulation,” he admitted, and Nikolas flinched. “Like Georgie Jones and her roommate.”

“The same guy,” Lulu murmured. “A serial killer, isn’t he?”

Lucky hesitated. “That’s not for me to say, Lu.” He knelt down. “But yes. It fits the definition. Three or more people over a period of a month.”

“Six weeks apart.” Lulu looked at him. “Do you know anything you can tell us yet?”

“No. I’m sorry. I wish—”

“You know more.” Nikolas looked at him now, his eyes burning. “You knew there was someone out there murdering women. But you didn’t stop him.”

“No. We didn’t stop him.”

“She should have been here,” his brother muttered. He fisted his hands. “She would have been here—”

“She was working, Nikolas,” Lulu reminded him gently. “She wouldn’t—”

“Then I would have been there,” Nikolas said. And now something else crept into his gaze. Loathing. “It’s your fault I wasn’t. You did this. You made her choose sides, and she chose wrong. Now she’s dead.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Spinelli opened the door to Elizabeth’s grandmother, still frowning at her arrival. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hardy. Stone Cold and Fair Elizabeth did not say when they’d be back.”

“It’s all right, darling.” Audrey came in, touched Spinelli’s hand. “I’ll wait however long it takes. I woke to get a glass of water—” She set her purse on the desk, her hand trembling. “And I’d left the television on — oh, it’s so terrible.”

“Yes.” He closed the door behind her. “A terrible tragedy for all.” Spinelli leaned his head against the door. “Stone Cold said it was the same as Georgie. At least they thought so.”

“Georgie was such a lovely girl,” Audrey murmured. She folded her arms, hugging her torso. “Such a light. And Emily—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Leyla. She was one of the last students I admitted into the program before I retired. She was so smart, so passionate.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hardy.” Spinelli looked at her. “The Jackal did not realize you knew the other…the other woman.”

“Not well. But I feel for her family. She’ll be lost in this, you understand. Just as Georgie’s poor roommate. Lord, I’ve already forgotten her name—”

“Chelsea. Chelsea Rae.” Spinelli’s smile was wistful. “She was quiet, but tenacious. Loyal. She and Georgie were very close. She wasn’t from Port Charles. She wasn’t the Commissioner’s daughter.”

“And Leyla isn’t a Quartermaine, so she won’t get the press. But I will certainly remember her. I’m so sorry, Spinelli, for your loss.”

“I’m sorry for yours.” Tears stung his eyes. “It seems very unfair for someone to get away with this. Public paths, public parking garages. What kind of demon inflicts this kind of harm?”

“We can only hope that they find him before he hurts someone else.”

Patrick’s Condo: Living Room

Patrick sat in the dark, the light from his television flickering over his face. Robin laid stretched out on the sofa, her eyes closed, red and swollen from crying. The murders were on the news, and it was—

It was surreal to see WKPC reporting live from the hospital, to be standing in front of the place where Patrick spent the majority of his waking hours, discussing the deaths of two unidentified women, though Emily had been speculated about as being connected to the Quartermaines. Irresponsible, Patrick thought bitterly. What other young woman connected to the family was at the hospital?

He thought about Monica Quartermaine being told that her daughter was dead, in a year when she’d already lost her husband. And Leyla’s family getting the call in London—

Two more families mourning daughters who had done nothing but take a walk after dark. How did you let your kids walk around in the world without you?

He’d be finding that out now. In a year, he’d have a kid. Boy or girl. And they’d need to grow up to go to school and work and breathe and how did you do that? How did you bring a life into the world when you knew it would be hard and terrible? He hadn’t wanted that responsibility. Had been terrified of it.

Now it was here. And there wasn’t a thought of letting Robin walk this path alone. He’d loved her enough to let her go when her dream hadn’t been his, and now he was going to love her enough to be part of that dream. He didn’t know how to be a good dad, but he’d learned how to be a good friend and a good boyfriend, hadn’t he? These weren’t skills he’d been born with.

He looked at Robin, who had shifted in her sleep, curling into a fetal position. He loved her enough to try to be what she needed. And maybe she’d be open to making their child live in a bubble. It was worth a shot.

General Hospital: Morgue

The room was a few degrees colder than the hallway. Kept this cool, Elizabeth thought dully, to preserve the bodies until they were transferred to a funeral home for burial or cremation.

She’d only been here once before when Manny Ruiz had dragged her down here and made her hide in a body bag, to smuggle them both out of the hospital without triggering security.

She walked beside Jason as they followed the forensic pathologist to the wall of doors. The man stopped at one and put his hand on the handle. Oh, God. Oh, God. She was in there. She curled her hands into fists so tightly, her nails dug into her palms.

There was a squeak as the doctor pulled the handle out, and it opened —

There she was. Laid out, her skin already taking on the chalk gray of death, blue tinge around her lips. Emily lay there, naked except for the sheet covering her up to the chest. Her shoulders were bare. Her hair pulled back—

Her neck with a long thin, dark line that told the story of her death.

Jason’s voice was low, nearly inaudible. “That’s…that’s her.” He cleared his throat. “Do I need to say her name—”

“No,” Rodriguez said, quietly. Respectfully. He stepped around them so that he was next to the doctor. “That’s all we needed.”

Elizabeth laid a hand on Emily’s chest, the fingers trembling as she absorbed the lack of the heartbeat. The cold of the freezer. The way her skin had lost its softness. She forced herself to look at Emily’s face. At the eyes that were closed — they’d never sparkle with laughter, ignite with fury—she’d never smile again. Her lips would never pinch with disappointment.

This was Emily’s body. The shell of who’d she been in this world, but all the pieces that had made Emily were gone.

“I love you,” Elizabeth said softly. “I will always love you. I will make sure my boys remember their Aunt Emily.” Tears blurred her vision and she had to step back, to turn away.

Beside her, Jason exhaled on a shaky breath.  He leaned down, kissed his sister’s forehead, the way he’d done so many times in life. Then rested his forehead against hers just once more. His baby sister who had clumsily wormed her way back into his life after the accident, becoming one of the bright spots.

He stepped back, looked at the doctor and cop with eyes that didn’t see them. “That’s it. Right? We’re done.”

“We’re done,” Rodriguez said, nodding to the doctor. The drawer closed, and Emily was gone. Out of sight. “Thank you.”

Jason nodded, then turned and left the morgue without another word. Elizabeth, startled by his abrupt exit, didn’t follow for a few moments, but then hurried to catch up before he got on the elevator.

“It never gets easy,” the doctor murmured. “You know, you see him on the news and you forget—”

“He’s a human like the rest of us.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

“I came as soon as I got your message.” Robert embraced his brother. “Talk to me. What do you need?”

“I—” Mac sat at the desk, put his head in his hands. “I don’t know how to do this, Robert. I keep just…looking at the next item on the list, but now there’s nothing left. Not tonight. Notifications are done, uniforms are canvassing, medical examiner is coming in the morning to do the autopsy—” He looked at him. “It could have Robin. It was supposed to be her.”

Robert frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She was supposed to leave with Emily tonight at the garage.” Mac rubbed his chin. “She changed her mind at the last minute. Sent Leyla Mir instead. It was my stepdaughter, then my niece.”

“Mac—”

“I’m not saying I think that’s the connection, just that—” he grimaced. “We can’t ignore it.”

“No.”

“I, uh—” Mac cleared his throat. “I called you because—I talked to Floyd. We both agreed that something—I can’t be in charge of the investigation. And after tonight—I didn’t tell Spencer yet, but he’s too close to Emily Quartermaine. He can still work it, but—”

“You need someone who isn’t as tightly connected,” Robert said. “Are you asking me?”

“Special assignment.” Mac smiled grimly. “Yeah, I’m asking you to take charge. Because there’s a serial killer out there, and I don’t think he’s done yet.”

General Hospital: Roof

Jason didn’t send the elevator up two flights to the lobby — but instead for the top floor. He needed air, and he didn’t want to see one more damn cop tonight—

Elizabeth said nothing as he stalked out onto the top story of General Hospital, making his way towards the roof access. She used her security badge to clear it and they both climbed the short access steps.

Once outside, hundreds of feet above the street, with the wind rushing in from the lake — Jason had nowhere else to go.

Nothing else to do. He’d identified his sister. Her broken, empty body. Nothing else he could do for her.

There was a trash can by the metal steps that led up to the helicopter pad level. Jason gripped it in both hands, threw it against the steps, the metal clanging almost satisfactory to his ears. He wanted to hurt something, to destroy it —

He’d felt this rage before, years ago, after the accident, when he’d destroyed Jason Quartermaine’s room and his mother had cried and yelled at him to stop. But there was no room to destroy here. No one to check his anger.

Only Elizabeth, standing by the door with her sad eyes. He looked at her. “I can’t do this. I can’t—I can’t do this. I don’t—” He stopped, shook his head, swallowing the ripple that rose in his throat. “She was just—” He threw the trash can again, and wished there was someone for him to hit.

Abruptly, he dropped down, to sit on the hard concrete roof. His legs slightly bent, he rested his elbows against his thighs. “I can’t do it.”

There was a small, quiet scuffle as Elizabeth sat cross-legged next to him, but she still said nothing. Because what could you say? What was Jason even refusing to do? To grieve? To accept it? The world didn’t care. It would keep turning. Emily would still be dead.

Dead. He was sitting on top of the building where his sister’s dead body was being kept, in the building where she’d been brutally murdered.

He looked at Elizabeth, said nothing. Tears slid down her cheeks, but she made no sound. Didn’t try to touch him. To soothe him. To offer comfort. He wouldn’t have accepted it. He didn’t deserve it.

“I remember the first time I met Emily,” Elizabeth said, and he frowned at that. “At school,” she continued. “I stuck up for her when some other girls were being rude.” Her smile was wistful. “Emily told me once she always knew I’d done it because I wanted to impress Lucky. But that it had given her the courage to stay that day. To keep going to school. It was after she’d come back from rehab,” she added. She took a deep breath. “I loved her so much. Even when she drove me crazy. Even when I wanted to…” She paused. “I think she knew that, right? Just like she knew you loved her. Even when you argued. Even when she did things you didn’t support or understand, she knew you loved her, Jason. I don’t know if that’s going to be enough to get us through this, but she knew we loved her.” Her voice faltered, but she said it again. “She knew we loved her.”

“Yeah.” He felt the tears start to fall, sliding down his chin, dropping from his jaw. “She knew I loved her. After the accident, it was just her and Lila that I could stand. I loved her so much.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “She knew that. I made sure she did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth scooted next to him, rested her head on his shoulder. “She knew.”

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