Written in 62 minutes.

General Hospital: Nurse’s Station

“I have to go to Thanksgiving this year,” Patrick said, slapping a chart down in front of Elizabeth. “So I need you to find a way to get me out of it.”

She lifted her brows, but didn’t bother to look up as she continued to complete the insurance paperwork. “Hey, you decided to go all in. That includes holidays and family celebrations.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Her family likes you.” And now Elizabeth did look up. “Count yourself lucky. I had to marry and divorce twice before Gram decided Jason wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah, well when other options are Ric and Lucky,” Patrick muttered. He leaned over the counter. “But her family liked me before she got pregnant. And now we’re living together.”

“It’s been forty-eight hours since she decided to move in. You said she didn’t even finish moving her things over—” Elizabeth rose from the chair, and picked up the notes for her rounds. Patrick followed her. “Do you think Robert or Mac is going to have a shotgun ready?”

“Do I think the police commissioner and former WSB legend are going to ask questions about marriage? Yes.” Patrick made a face. “So if you could find a way to fake an emergency—”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, stopping at a patient door, and plucking their chart from the plastic holder. “Holidays are part of the package, Patrick. Just smile and nod, divert uncomfortable questions to Robin, and you’ll be fine.”

“Must be nice to be so confident,” Patrick muttered. He leaned against the hallway. “Are you guys going mansion or mob on Thursday?”

“Dinner at the Quartermaines with my grandmother, and then dessert with Sonny.” Elizabeth looked at him. “Patrick. You’re going to be fine. You remember that you used to be charming, right?”

“Yeah, but—it was easier to turn on all that—” He gestured to his face. “You know, you flash the dimples, and you got what you wanted. I could do that before it mattered. Now it matters.”

“And that’s why you’ll be fine.” Elizabeth sighed. “If Robert and Mac want to focus on you and Robin, on the baby, and everything around it, let them. Because there’s going to be an empty chair this year. And every thing they throw at you is going to keep them from remembering that.”

Patrick exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. When you put it that way—” He paused. “You’re going to have an empty chair, too.”

Seventeen days since Emily had died. Only seventeen. It felt like a lifetime since that terrible night — and at the same time, as if it had happened an hour ago. “That’s why we’re going to the mansion. Jason…I worry about him sometimes,” she admitted. She bit her lip. “This stays between us.”

“Like a vault. You know that.”

“When Alan died last winter, it hit Jason really hard. You know, just regretting the time that was lost, and not giving Alan the same chances he gave Monica and Emily. He couldn’t really do anything with that first because, well, there was Jake, and the trial. But then Emily—” She hesitated. “I’m worried that he’s trying to make up for all that too fast. He takes the boys to the mansion every other day to spend time with Monica, which is great. But then he told me about Thanksgiving—”

She put the patient chart back. “I don’t know. It’s like all the regrets he has about things after the accident — he’s on warp speed trying to make up for them. And it’s how he’s dealing with losing Emily.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? So he’s forcing himself to give his family another chance.”

“Well, it’s the Quartermaines, so there’s that. I don’t know. He ran so far and so fast from all of that—” Elizabeth shook her head. “And maybe it’s because I know it’s what I’m doing. I’m spending too much time at work and when I’m at home, I’m obsessing about the boys or Spinelli. Because I don’t want to stop and think—”

He touched her shoulder. “It hasn’t been that long yet, Elizabeth. You gotta give yourself a break.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” Elizabeth flashed him a smile. “And that’s how I know you’ll be okay on Thursday. You know how to listen. Just let Robin take the lead, and follow her.”

She turned down another hallway, and Patrick headed out to his own rounds. Sam slipped around a corner and started after Elizabeth. The PCPD wasn’t moving fast enough to do anything about Jason, she thought bitterly, so she needed something else.

Maybe perfect Elizabeth would screw up at work and Sam could use that to ruin her life—what if she could get the bitch suspended—

“Sam, what are you doing here?”

Sam jolted, turning to find her mother stepping off the elevator. “Uh, Mom. Hey. I could ask the same for you.”

“Just a follow up with the doctor. A scan. Still in remission,” Alexis added. She wound her arm through Sam’s. “I was going to stop off and check in with a client who’s having surgery, but since I came across you, what do you say we get lunch?”

“Yeah. Yeah. All right.” Grateful Alexis hadn’t pushed her on why she was at the hospital, Sam followed her mother back on the elevator.

Wyndemere: Foyer

“Did you swim here?” Nikolas demanded darkly when he found his sister on his footstep.

“No, the launch pilot isn’t the only one who can drive a boat.” Lulu shrugged. “And you just told him he wasn’t allowed to bring me here. No one ever said I couldn’t get myself over here.  Dillon knows how to drive a speedboat.” She followed him into the study. “I just wanted to tell you that I wouldn’t come to bother you anymore.”

“Oh—” Nikolas poured himself a drink. “You came to bother me about promising not to bother me? That’s funny.”

“No, I came to tell you I’m not going to bother you at all. Which means I won’t tell Lucky I’m worried. I won’t complain to Dillon or Spinelli about you. I know what you did to Lucky, and until you figure out how to apologize for it, you’re not worth my concern.”

Nikolas scowled, looked at his sister. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You threw pills at him, Nikolas. At our brother, a recovering addict who’s trying hard to stay clean. Even though he just got divorced, lost custody of his kids, and buried his best friend. How much more do you want to throw at him—”

“Ah, I see Lucky figured out how to make you feel responsible for him—” Nikolas smirked, sipped his drink. “He’s good at that. Didn’t you listen to Elizabeth on the stand? I paid for his lawyer because I felt sorry for him. We both worried he’d fall back into drugs if we abandoned him. Welcome to the club, Lu.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a real pair of winners as brothers. A martyr and an asshole. And I’m a selfish bitch, so I guess Mom is three-for-three with the kids. Good thing she’s not here to see how we turned out.”

Nikolas rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic—”

“Really? I broke up a marriage last year, Nikolas. Just like you did. Emily and Zander? You could have kept your distance and you didn’t. And you slept with Courtney—someone else’s wife—”

“Shut up—”

“Woes you with the traumatized wife who was raped by a man who looked like you,” Lulu shot back. “Poor little Nikolas who wants to blame everyone else for his problems. Why don’t we all just think about what you’ve lost? Forget Lucky, who knew Emily longer. Forget Emily’s family who already buried Alan this year. Forget Elizabeth who’s been through hell. No, no, let’s just worry about poor baby Nikolas who can dish it but can’t take it.” She sneered. “I’ve been worried about you, but you’re just fine over here, feeling sorry for yourself. But where were you last year when I needed you? Where were you two years ago when Grandma dumped me on Dad who couldn’t bother with me? Where were you when your wife was traumatized and needed patience and understanding?”

She shrugged. “You know what, I think I’m going to be better off without you. Lucky didn’t do a damn thing to you. He asked for your help with the custody case, and you gave it. Suck it up, and admit the only reason you and Emily weren’t together when she died was because you’re a selfish asshole. Until you do that? We’ve got nothing left to say to each other.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Mac dragged his hands through his hair. “Well, we have our link.” He looked up at Robert. “Too bad it doesn’t tell us anything.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” Robert took the DNA report back. “Other than a single killer is responsible. When we find him, we’ll nail him to the wall for all four murders—”

“When we find him—” Mac rose and went to the window. Looked out over the trees with their falling leaves, the mixtures of oranges, yellows, and browns littering the lawn outside the PCPD. “If we find him.”

“We’ve got him. He waited six weeks between the college and the hospital—” Robert grimaced. “I know there’s a chance he won’t wait that long again, but women on alert, aren’t they? The hospital hired extra security. So did the campus.”

“And what about the parking lot by the mall? What about the park? What about the thousands of public spaces in this town? And maybe it’s not about the age of the women. Maybe it’s not about their hair. Maybe it’s not even about women,” Mac muttered. “Maybe it’s just about public killing and the thrill of taking two at a time. What if he escalates to three or more? What if—”

“What if the sky turns orange? You know better, little brother, than to let those kinds of questions drag you down—”

Mac shook his head. “Thanksgiving is five days away. Last year, Georgie spent half the day in the kitchen with Robin, and now—”

“Now she won’t be there. I can’t imagine the depth of your loss, Mac. The thought of losing my daughter—” Robert’s throat tightened. “It’s beyond my comprehension. But we aren’t miracle workers. We have DNA. That’s more than a lot of cases have. Georgie fought hard, and she’s going to help put this bastard away. That’s going to matter one day.”

“Yeah. Maybe. But it won’t be enough.” Mac looked at Robert. “Maxie said something, just before the second set of murders. And it’s stayed with me. Finding out who did this, finding out why he did this—it’s not going to change anything. It won’t ever explain why there’s going to be an empty chair at every dinner for the rest of my life. It won’t ever be enough.”

Morgan Penthouse: Master Bedroom

Jason jolted awake, but then wasn’t sure what had woken him. The room around him was dark, quiet. Elizabeth was curled on her side beside him, her breathing still deep and even, so whatever it was, it hadn’t stirred her. She’d once been a deep sleeper, but the boys had changed her, making it harder for her to sleep like the dead anymore.

Jason closed his eyes, slid closer to hold her in his arms, kissing her bare shoulder, then tried to go back to sleep—

But there it was again—and this time, the sound was louder, and Elizabeth rolled over on her back. “What was that?” she asked, her voice slurring from sleep. “Jason?”

“I don’t—” He looked past her at the monitor on the nightstand, the little black and white images. The camera was aimed at Jake’s crib and he could see their son laying on his back, his head turned to one side, his chest rising and falling. But just beyond that, they could see the outline of Cameron’s bed, and the blanket was rustling.

And they heard it again, louder. A gagging, hacking sound, then crying. Jason sprang to his feet, followed by Elizabeth as they rushed across the hallway. Jason shoved open the door, and Elizabeth flipped on the light.

Cameron was sitting up, his face red, tears streaming down his cheeks, his fingers clutching his blanket. He gagged again, and Jason realized that he was throwing up, the vomit landing on his blanket, his pajamas and around his mouth.

“Baby, hey—” Elizabeth knelt down next to the bed and Jason went to the linen closet just a few steps away in the hallway. He dragged out a stack of towels, plucking the largest. He returned to the room just as Jake woke and started crying. Elizabeth was stroking Cameron’s head.

“Does he have a fever?”

“No. Cam—”

“Tummy—” Cameron hitched another sob. “Hurt.”

Jason knelt next to Elizabeth, taking in Cameron’s glassy eyes, red face. “Do you want to call a doctor? I can—”

“No, no, there’s no fever—” Elizabeth brushed Cameron’s hair back. “Let’s just clean him up, um, some ginger ale—”

“Can I help?”

Jason glanced to the door, finding Spinelli there, one side of his cheek red from sleep. “Hey, we—”

“Actually—” Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at the crying infant. “Okay. Okay. Jason, can you clean Cam up? He’ll feel better with a warm bath and new pajamas. I can throw all of this in the laundry—”

“I’ll do that, Fair Elizabeth,” Spinelli said. “The Jackal has a very strong stomach. You should  calm Stone Cold the Sequel and get Little Dude his munchies.”

“Oh, Spinelli, you don’t have to—”

“Thanks,” Jason said, interrupting. He wrapped Cameron in the towel and scooped him against his chest. “That would be a lot of help.”

“The Jackal reporting for duty.”

Jason went across the hall, back into their bedroom, and into the master bathroom. He set Cameron down on the counter to start the water running. “How are you feeling, buddy?”

“Throat hurt,” Cameron managed, but his sobs had quieted. Jason touched his forehead, but Elizabeth was right — he was cool to the touch, and she’d know better. She was a nurse and had more experience—

Jason peeled off the pajamas, wrapping them into the towel, and then set Cameron into the tub after making sure he’d dumped some of the bubble bath Elizabeth kept on the shelf. He used a water glass to pour water over Cameron’s head, carefully cleaning him up but making sure the water didn’t get into his eyes or mouth—

“How’s that?”

“B-better,” Cameron managed.

Spinelli appeared in the doorway. “Fair Elizabeth sends clean jammies and a new towel for the Little Dude, and I’m here to fetch the, uh, soiled materials.” He made a face as he set down the pajamas and towel, then picked up the rolled up towel Jason had set aside. “She went to get the munchies.”

“Thanks,” Jason said.

“No worries. How’s the Little Dude feeling?”

“Snelli,” Cameron managed. “Tummy hurt.”

“Less orange soda at bedtime,” Spinelli said, nodding sagely. “The Jackal takes the note.”  He left then, and Jason lifted Cameron from the tub, wrapping him in a fluffy, warm towel. He took the pajamas into the bedroom with him, and sat on the bed, rubbing Cameron’s back.

Elizabeth came in a moment later, holding Jake on her hip and balancing a pack of crackers and a can of ginger ale in her hand. “Hey, baby.” She sat on the bed next to them, putting Jake down in the middle of quickly arranged pillows. She cracked the ginger ale. “Sip slowly, honey.”

Cameron nodded and did as instructed. Then he ate a cracker slowly, in little nibbles. Time passed excruciating slow as Elizabeth repeated the process. A sip of ginger ale, then another cracker, eaten slowly. Behind them Jake fussed, but then fell back into a doze.

Finally, Cameron started to droop. “Feel better,” he said, his eyes closed. “Tummy okay.”

“All right. Let’s get you into jammies and back in bed.”

“Wanna stay here,” Cameron said, opening his eyes briefly. “Comfy.”

“That’s fine with me,” Jason said, brushing his lips against Cameron’s drying curls. “But clothes first.”

“Kay,” he murmured.

Jason handed Cameron to Elizabeth to change, then went to put the towel in with the rest of the laundry. He found Spinelli in the room downstairs, peering curiously at the dials. “Oh, you can hack into any network in the country, but a washing machine defeats you?”

Spinelli made a face. “Lots of buttons,” he muttered. “And Fair Elizabeth does my laundry. How’s Little Dude?”

“Better. Ready to go back to bed.” Jason started the washer. “Thank you, Spinelli. Sorry to wake up.”

“No worries. That’s, um, what family does, right?” Spinelli folded his arms, looking at the washer. “All hands on deck.”

“Yeah. That’s what family does. Go back to bed, okay? You have a paper due on Monday. And no, I didn’t forget,” Jason said.

Spinelli grumbled as he followed Jason up the stairs. “Family is overrated,” he muttered, but went into his room.

Jason returned to his bedroom. Elizabeth had returned the sleeping Jake back into his crib and was tucking Cameron into their bed.

“Go sleep?” Cameron asked, snuggling against the pillow. “Tired, Daddy.”

“Yeah, we’re going to bed.” Jason slid under the comforter, and Elizabeth did the same on Cameron’s other side. He switched off the light. “Good night.”

“Night,” the toddler sighed. “Tummy all better.”

+27

Written in 59 minutes.

Morgan Penthouse: Kitchen

Elizabeth pulled out the tray of chicken nuggets vaguely shaped like dinosaurs. “A few more minutes, Cam,” she told her son who bounced in the booster seat that made him tall enough to sit at the kitchen table.

“Then I eat roshus dinos.” Cameron played with the bright green plastic utensils, banging them against his plate like drums. “Yummy nuggets.”

“Yeah, really haute cuisine.” Elizabeth reached for her vibrating phone in her back pocket, and made a face when she saw Jason’s note that he’d be late. He’d spent the day with the boys while she worked, and then they’d traded — he’d headed into the warehouse, and she’d taken over for dinner.

“Mommy mad?”

“Mommy tired,” Elizabeth said, then slid the phone back in her pocket. “Daddy’s going to home late, so he’ll miss bedtime, okay?”

“Okay.” Cameron wrapped both hands around his sippy cup, then tipped it back. Elizabeth filled his plate with dino nuggets, then tucked the extras away in the oven to keep warm. She set the child lock on the oven door.

“I’m going to go get your brother up from his nap so he can eat dinner. You okay to eat by yourself for a few minutes?” she asked, turning on the monitor they kept in the kitchen.

Cameron bit into one of the nuggets, ripping off the head of the dino, then growled. “Grrr!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Elizabeth jogged up the stairs, then paused when she realized Spinelli’s bedroom door was ajar. She thought he was out with Dillon and Lulu—but then realized his lamp was on, and there was a lump on the bed. “Spinelli?” she tapped the door. “Did you want something for dinner?”

“The Jackal ate,” he said glumly.

She hesitated, then pushed the door open a bit more. “Are you all right? It’s not like you to go to bed early.”

Spinelli sat up, his hair mussed from spending most of the day beneath a beanie cap. He looked a bit pale and clammy. Worried, she perched on the edge of the bed, pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Are you sick?”

“No. No. The Jackal had an unpleasant experience,” he muttered. “Confrontations make him sick.”

“Confrontation…” Elizabeth tipped her head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spinelli glanced away, traced a seam in the comforter with his fingers. “At Kelly’s. There was—” He paused. “Sam.”

The one word name without any type of nickname didn’t make Elizabeth feel any better either. “I’m sorry. I know you were close with her. You can still be friends with her if you want—”

“No, no!” Spinelli’s eyes widened. “The Jackal couldn’t. Fair Elizabeth does not understand. He—” He closed his eyes. “Adult,” he muttered. “I am an adult.”

“Spinelli?”

“I…knew,” Spinelli managed, his face twisted. “About Maureen Harper. And Sam.”

“Ah.” Elizabeth nodded. “Jason told you?”

“N-no. Well, y-yes. But I investigated for Stone Cold. He suspected something,” Spinelli admitted. “And then she tried to hurt him at the trial, and then she wanted you to lose the custody. But she was there today. And wanted to be friends. The Jackal had to tell her no.” He drew his knees against his chest. “Don’t like bad conversations.”

“I’m sorry, Spinelli.” Elizabeth touched his shoulder. “It’s hard when you think you’re friends with someone and they do something to hurt you. And it can be really hard to tell them. I don’t like to do it either. I mean, that’s how this all got started, you know? Lying about Jake. I was afraid to tell anyone, and I didn’t until I was forced. It’s brave to do it willingly. Without a perjury charge hanging over you.”

Spinelli’s smile was faint. “But Stone Cold is very happy you did. And so is the Jackal. This is the nicest place he’s ever lived.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Why do you refer to yourself in the third person? You almost never say I or me. You don’t have to answer it, but I was just curious.”

He considered the question for a long quiet moment. “When I was a kid,” he said softly. “My parents were gone. My mother died when I was a baby, and my dad was never in the picture. Granny raised me, but I liked computers and science and cartoons and silly things. The kids teased me a lot in school, and it was hard to—I never had any friends.” He paused. “Going to school was the worst but I had to go every day because Granny didn’t believe in quitting.” He bit his lip. “At night, I used to lay in my bed and tell myself stories where I was the hero, but it wasn’t me. Couldn’t be me. And the Jackal was brave. He was funny and handsome and had many friends. Family. Good things never happened to Damien, but they could happen to the Jackal. But maybe Damien could just go away and bad things wouldn’t happen anymore.” He shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Spinelli.” She squeezed his knee. “I hope you know that we love you here. Not just me and the boys. Jason does, too.”

“He puts up with me.”

“If that was true, he wouldn’t still let you live here,” Elizabeth said. “He never let Carly live here, did he? And he definitely just puts up with her.”

His smile was faint. “The Valkyrie is an acquired taste, he tells me.”

“Well, Dillon and Lulu like you. Georgie liked you,” Elizabeth said softly, and he nodded. “You have friends now. If you want to still be the Jackal, that’s okay. We’ll always love him. But Damien is part our family, too. And I hope you feel safe enough to let him out more.”

General Hospital: Lobby

Robin tugged her tote bag over her shoulder, tired down to her bone marrow. She stepped out of the elevator, waiting for Kelly and Lainey to follow. “I’m going to sleep for a week when I get home,” she told them.

“We’ll drink your share of the wine, don’t worry,” Kelly promised, putting an arm around Robin’s shoulders.

“You should always call Patrick. I bet he’d give you a foot massage,” Lainey teased. “But then he’d just ask you to move in again, so maybe going home is the best idea.”

“Yeah, talk about running hot and cold,” Kelly said. “Do you know how many messages he’s left me about the next appointment? I told him to write the questions down, but—”

They turned a corner, heading for the lobby and the exit. Robin’s steps slowed when she saw a familiar dark head on a bench, bowed over a book.

Patrick. Reading another book with a pregnant woman on the cover. He didn’t know what time she was leaving today — couldn’t have known she’d see him. So he really was reading this books — and leaving Kelly’s messages.

“I’ll talk to you guys later,” she said to her roommates.

“Uh huh, sure.” Kelly took Lainey’s arms in hers. “Come on. Let’s go get a security guard to walk us to our cars.”

Robin sat next to Patrick and he jerked his head up, snapping the book shut. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing. I thought you worked this morning.”

“I did. I had a surgery that ran late, and I’m waiting to hear from the ICU in an—” He checked his watch. “Five minutes. If the vitals are good, I can head home.” He furrowed his brow. “Why are you alone? You weren’t going to the parking garage were you?”

Instead of answering, Robin reached for the book he’d been reading and flipped through it. Pages were highlighted — and there were post-its, tabs—notes in the margins. She opened to eight weeks. “A raspberry seed,” she said. “That’s how big the baby is right now.”

“You know, you go to medical school,” Patrick said, “and you learn this stuff, but it’s different when you’re actually talking about a real baby. Raspberry seeds are barely visible. But organs are developing—the baby has eyes—”

“Retinas,” Robin corrected. “And then tail is nearly gone, so there’s that.”

“Good thing. Would make diapers hard. I’ve seen them — not really a good place to put the tail.” But he smiled, took the book back. “You’re eating enough fruit? That’s what the book says about this week.”

“Plenty.” Robin tipped his head. “You’re…really into this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I am.” Patrick took a deep breath. “But I talked to Elizabeth and I get it. You need to be sure, so I’m not pushing you. I just—I want to be what you need. So if what you need is me to back off—”

“What I need…” Robin tipped her head back, considered the question. This baby had been conceived on a night she’d been at her lowest, desperate to stop thinking and feeling. Her sweet little cousin was gone forever. And now so was Emily—

Life was short. How many times did Robin need to learn that?

“What I need right now is a bubble bath and a nap.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m tired all the time. And it’s hard in the morning. Do you really want to be there for morning sickness?”

He slid his arm around her shoulders, tucking her more firmly in his embrace. “I want to be there for everything, Robin. Whatever you’re ready for.”

“You might regret that tomorrow when I’m hanging over the toilet.”

His arm tensed. “Robin?”

“You’re getting shades for the windows. I can’t be woken up like that every morning. It’s not negotiable.” She lifted her head. “I love you. And you love me. And I think we both already love this baby. That’s enough for me. Let’s go home.”

Spencer House: Living Room

“I’m just worried about him,” Lulu said, pacing in front of the fireplace. “He won’t return my calls, he banned me from the island, and you’re probably right there, too. And if that’s not enough, Spinelli’s acting weird, and Dillon’s pretending everything is normal, and I’m—” She frowned, looking at her brother sitting at the table by the chairs. “Are you listening to me?”

“Sure.” Lucky crossed off another name from the campus access list. “Every other word. Sometimes I get two in a row.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You told me earlier that you were going to help—”

“And I tried.” Lucky leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. “I went to the island, and it didn’t work. So we’re just going to have to let this play out—”

“You went over? What happened? Did it look like he’s sleeping or eating?”

“He’s definitely drinking.”

“Lucky.”

He sighed, set down his pencil, and looked at her. “Listen. I don’t want to get into it with you. You love him, and you’re concerned. I’m not doing anything to get in the middle of that.”

“But—” Lulu bit her lip. “Is he still blaming you?”

“He—” He grimaced. “He threw a bottle of pills at me and told me that was all I was good for.” And it had taken everything in him to set those pills aside. To push away the chance for it all to go away. To lose himself in nothing.

If he went under again, he’d never drag himself back out. Couldn’t give in.

Lulu’s hands fell to her side. “He—he threw pills at you.”

“I didn’t take them. You can call him. I left them on his desk—”

“Lucky. Don’t act like this isn’t important—”

“It’s—” Lucky rose. “Lu. This is who Nikolas is. Who he’s always been. When he gets angry, he lashes out. He always apologizes later. He’ll let you back in soon, okay?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Lulu’s eyes were dark with concern. “That was a cruel thing he did to you, and I’m sorry. You lost Emily, too. He’s not even thinking about that.”

“No, he’s not. Because Emily was his one true love.” Lucky’s smile was wry. “Just like Elizabeth was mine. We sure have a hell of a way of treating the women we profess to love, huh? We both cheated on them.”

Lulu folded her arms. “Are you, um, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I went to a meeting. I’ll probably go to another tomorrow. It’s fine, Lu. I’m not going to crack. Not this time.” Lucky flexed his fingers. “I don’t have much else to lose, you know? I lost my wife. My kids. My best friend. My brother. If I can lose all of that, and still stay clean, that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a very good thing. And I’m proud of you—no, don’t do that. Don’t like it doesn’t matter. Like what you did wasn’t hard,” Lulu said. He met her eyes. “Every day you stay clean is important. It matters. You had pills in your hand, Lucky, and you put them down. You walked away. A year ago, you wouldn’t have done that.”

“A year ago—” Lucky sighed. “Yeah, okay. I guess I would have.”

“I love you. Can I—can I go to a meeting with you, or something? Is that allowed?”

“Yeah.” He went to her, drew her in for a hug. “Yeah, that’s allowed.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too.”

Greystone: Living Room

“Hey, sorry for the late night—” Sonny said, tossing a folder on the desk. “A few more things, and you can head out—”

“It’s fine.” Jason checked his phone, but there wasn’t anything new. “Shipment was all set, and we’re good for tomorrow, too.”

“Yeah, this one just needed your hand on it. Zacchara was getting bitchy about letting my underlings handle it.” Sonny rolled his eyes. “I hope he has another stroke,” he muttered. “Anyway—uh, I wanted to let you know that I checked with our guy at the PCPD. About the case.”

Jason grimaced. “And?”

“Nothing. They’re working some leads, but they don’t have much more than they did before. The guy’s DNA isn’t in the system, and there haven’t been any good sightings of him.” Sonny shook his head. “I was hoping we could get something we’d be able to work with. A way to help track something down, but—” He looked at Jason. “I’m sorry. There’s a chance they don’t catch this guy before he gets someone else.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “What about motive? I mean, they don’t have any idea why he’s doing this?”

“No, and the profile of the victims is too broad for them to do anything else,” Sonny said. “Otherwise, they’re telling every women between the ages of 19 and 40 not to travel alone or even in pairs. How do you do that without scaring the shit out of everyone, you know?”

“Yeah.” Jason scrubbed a hand over his face. “Elizabeth has a guard when she goes out with the boys, but she really don’t go anywhere else. Ford won’t let her have a guard in the hospital, so Cody meets her in the parking garage by the elevators. I don’t love it, but the alternative is having her driven to work and dropped off and picked up—”

“Which still gives someone an opening if they want it. No chance we can get her to quit her job? Tell her to go back to her art or something.”

“She likes nursing,” Jason said. “And I’d rather save that kind of question for when we need it. Like if Anthony Zacchara goes crazy again, like the time he killed his own wife.” He shook his head. “Plus, why would this guy hit the parking garage again? He didn’t go to the college again.”

“Yeah, there’s that.” Sonny nodded. “Okay. Well, it was worth a shot.”

“Yeah, thanks for checking on the case.” Jason paused. “I asked her that night, you know. To marry me.”

“I wasn’t—” Sonny paused. “I knew you were planning it, but I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t want to ask. I figure the answer was positive?”

“Yeah. Um, I’m brining it up because we’re going to—December 21 is the date. You know usually you’d be my best man, but—” Jason’s chest was tight. “Elizabeth doesn’t want a maid of honor. Because…”

“It was supposed to be Emily.”

“Yeah. So if she’s not going to have anyone—”

“That makes sense. I’m sorry. You’re sure you don’t want to wait until you’re feeling a bit more…” Sonny squinted. “I guess happier isn’t the right word…”

“The divorce is finalized at the end of this month, and Elizabeth and I just want to move on. I don’t need anything but her at the wedding. She might—” Jason sighed. “She might regret it later, but maybe she won’t.”

“Then you renew your vows or something. Throw a party.” Sonny went to the door, opened it. “But right now, maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s enough to just have each other. You’ve definitely earned it.”

+27

Written in 59 minutes.

General Hospital: Locker Room

“Okay, you need to explain women to me, because I’ve clearly lost my touch.”

Elizabeth didn’t even look up from tying her shoe. “Women or pregnant women?”

Patrick dropped onto the bench beside her. “Both. Robin and I love each other. We knew that before we broke up. We said it. So it was accepted and understood. But then she decided she wanted kids basically now, and I wasn’t there, so we broke up.”

“Yeah, and?” Elizabeth straightened.

“Well, now we’re having kids and we still love each other, so—” He made a gesture with her hands. “Why does it feel like we’re still broken up? Shouldn’t it be null and void?”

“Ah. I’m starting to follow.” She rose, closed her locker, and pinned on her staff badge. “Did you propose or something?”

“No. I thought that would be too fast. I asked her to move in with me. Because you know, I need to be there. Every day. And she’s going to need me—”

“And she said no.”

“Yes.” Patrick raked a hand through his dark hair, disheveling it. “Can you tell me what I did wrong?”

“You know, Jason proposed to me when I got pregnant last year.” Elizabeth frowned. “He asked me to marry him three times, actually. And I said no every time. Even though all the things you just said were true. I was pregnant. It definitely would have been nice to have someone with me because I mostly did that single. But I still said no. Even though I loved him.”

“Women.” Patrick muttered. “You’re different—you were married to someone else—”

“I wanted to say yes,” Elizabeth said wistfully. “But I knew he wasn’t asking for the same reason I would have said yes. You’re asking Robin to move with you because she’s pregnant. She wants to be asked because you’re in love.”

“And both can’t be true at the same time?” Patrick said skeptically. “Yeah, women are the worst.”

“Patrick.”

He exhaled slowly. “I don’t mean that. I just—I messed everything up so much. I should have just said yes when she wanted kids, and then we’d be in a different space. But I messed up. I never get it right the first time with Robin, and I guess she’s out of patience now.”

Elizabeth sat down again, next to him. “Did you know you wanted kids when she brought it up?”

“No—”

“Then you did the right thing. I did the right thing last year. And now—” She held out her hand. “Now I have everything I ever wanted, and I know Jason loves me the way I wanted to be loved. You want everything right now. And Robin isn’t there. She doesn’t want to live with you because she’s pregnant. Because she’s going to get cramps and cravings and have trouble sleeping. If that’s the only reason you want to live with her, that’s not enough.”

“It’s—” Patrick furrowed his brow. “But I want to take care of her because I love her. Why can’t that count?”

“It can and it does, I’m sure. You might just need some patience.” Elizabeth stood again. “How are, um, feeling about the kid thing? Now that it’s had time to settle.”

“I don’t know.” He leaned against the locker. “I’m mostly focusing on the pregnant part of it. What comes after — that feels almost too big to think about. Thinking about having a whole person to take care of. But sometimes I think about it. You know, what will the kid look like? Will it be a boy or girl? Do I care which? And personality. Will they be like me or Robin, or a mix? Or maybe completely different—” He broke off, laughing a bit nervously. “Sorry. I didn’t meant to ramble.”

“I think maybe you’re a little excited about this,” she said, tipping her head.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Terrified. But yeah, thinking about the baby is kind of cool. This whole person that didn’t exist before, but they do now, and you got to be part of it. Like—” Patrick held out his hands. “This human wasn’t here before, but now they are, and they’re a piece of you, and a piece of Robin, and it’s like, almost proof. That you can bring something good into the world that isn’t about being a doctor. I want—I don’t know if I’ll be a good father, but I want to be. That counts.”

“It absolutely counts.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m happy for you, Patrick. And for Robin. You’re both going to be amazing parents.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

“DNA should be back early next week,” Robert said, knocking on Mac’s slightly ajar door. “We’re lucky. Getting it in before the lab shuts down on Wednesday for Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving.” Mac blinked. “I forgot about that. It’s next week.”

“Yeah.” Robert came into the office. “I talked to Robin last night. About the baby. What are you thinking about this?”

“Cautiously optimistic,” his brother said. “You?”

“Not entirely sure how my little girl got old enough to drive much less bring life into the world, but—” Robert sat down. “It’s a bright spot. Something good to focus on. And you and I will make pretty good grandfathers.”

“I would never—” Mac shook his head. “I’m her uncle, Robert. I would never—”

“You’ve raised my daughter. Finished off the job I didn’t get a lot of time to do,” he admitted. “And helped her navigate through some of the toughest pieces. Anna and I are in debt to you for the rest of our lives.” Robert sighed. “I had my reasons for not coming home, I promise you that. And I still mostly think they were good ones, but it cost me time with Robin I can’t ever have back. I thank God you were here.”

“Taking care of her—of Felicia’s girls—it was a privilege. An honor. Patrick—” Mac paused. “He’s a good guy. I didn’t always think so, but he’ll look after her. And he’ll be a good father.” He looked at the photo on his desk of his three girls. “You’re sticking around though, aren’t you? Not going back to the WSB or—”

“No. I don’t want any more regrets. I want to watch my daughter continue to move forward in her life and be part of it.” Robert got to his feet. “I was, however, thinking of reaching out to some old friends at Quantico. In the Behavioral Sciences Unit. We might want to get a profile to help us sift through what we have.”

“Anything to get this done,” Mac said. “I don’t want to bury another woman.”

Quartermaine Estate: Family Room

“Gammy—” Cameron raced past Jason’s legs and straight at Monica who swept him up in her arms, kissing his face as he giggled. Jason remained at the doorway, smiling faintly. Cameron’s shyness a few weeks ago had disappeared, and now Monica was one of his favorite people to visit.

“This is a wonderful surprise.” Monica tucked Cameron on her hip, then beamed as Jason held Jake out so she could kiss his cheek. “All three of my favorite people!”

“Then I guess I don’t have to apologize for just dropping by—”

“Never.” Monica squeezed Cameron again, then set him on his feet. She hugged Jason briefly. “How are you? Elizabeth?”

“Okay. The boys keep us distracted. Elizabeth wanted me to thank you again for watching them the other day when we finished Spinelli’s room.”

“Oh, more than happy to do that. Did he like it?”

“He seemed to.”

“I thought I heard voices—” Edward came into the room behind them, rubbing his hands together. “Is that my great-grandson I see there?” He reached into his suit pocket, and had a piece of candy ready as Cameron raced over to him.

“Hi, Grampy.” Cameron unwrapped the piece of chocolate and shoved it in his mouth in one quick gulp. Jason just shook his head. His grandfather was definitely conditioning Cameron to associate Edward and chocolate with each other, making Cameron thrilled to see him. Smart old bastard.

“Well, you’re welcome whenever you want to come over, but I’m sure that packing up two kids isn’t really a social call.” Monica sat down, and Jason put Jake in her lap. “You know I’d come to you—”

“I know. But elizabeth’s at work, and I don’t like to keep them in the penthouse all day every day. Cameron—” Jason looked over to find the toddler reaching for a knick knack on the shelf by the desk. “What are the rules?”

“Look, no touch,” Cameron grumbled. He came around the sofa and started to go through the bag Jason had brought with Jake’s diapers and found a set of cars. “I play right here. You see me.”

“Thank you.”

Cameron heaved a sad sigh at Edward who sat on the sofa next to Monica. “Daddy and rules. Too many.”

“Ironic to watch you enforcing rules in the same room where you rode your motorcycle,” Edward told Jason. “God certainly has a sense of humor.”

Jason made a face, but Edward had a point. “Don’t tell him that story until he’s at least thirty.” He sat in the chair by the sofa. “Uh, we came over because—” He paused. “Elizabeth and I set a date. For the wedding. We want it to be small. Quiet. She’s not—neither of us really want anything big. And she doesn’t want a party or anything. Just the ceremony, and maybe dinner or something.”

“I understand. Is it soon?”

“December 21, a few days before Christmas. You’re both invited,” Jason added. “Uh, Ned and Dillon, too, if they want to come.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Monica squeezed his hand. “I’m very happy for you both. And grateful that you’ve—” She pressed her cheek to the top of Jake’s head. “This has helped so much. They’re a godsend. And having you. It doesn’t—it doesn’t replace what we’ve lost, but—”

“But it helps to have some light and joy,” Edward finished, a bit gruffly. “I’m sure they’ve been a comfort to you and to Elizabeth during these last few weeks.”

“It’s easier than it would have been.”

“I need to—” Edward rose. “I’ll return in a moment.” He left, and Jason talked to Monica about Jake, and how he was starting to move around. Once he told her that, Monica insisted on moving the coffee table to see it for herself.

Edward returned a few moments later, and they all enjoyed watching Jake wiggle his little boy and Cameron tried to demonstrate walking again, as if that would help.

Then it was time to leave, to be home for Elizabeth’s return from work. Edward followed them into the foyer.

“I wanted to—you obviously don’t have to—” He reached into his suit jacket, drew out a velvet ring box. “This was your grandmother’s.”

Jason shifted Jake to one side, and took the box, flipping it open with just one hand. Inside was the slim gold band that he’d seen on his grandmother’s hand once. She’d stopped wearing it a few years before she’d died, her hands a bit too swollen to fit it anymore. “Her wedding ring.”

“She always liked Elizabeth, and you were—well, she’d never have admitted, but you were her favorite. Before and after. You don’t have to use it,” he repeated.

“No. I mean, of course.” Jason exhaled slowly, his throat tight at the memory of beloved grandmother. One more person he’d lost. “I’d be—thank you.” He met Edward’s gaze. “It will mean a lot to us both to have it.”

“And—” Edward looked at his hand, then slowly slid off his own wedding ring. He stared it for a long moment. “I wasn’t always the best husband. But our marriage endured many difficult days and tough times. The day Lila put this on my finger was the best day of my life.  She bought it herself.”

Jason slid his grandmother’s ring box into his pocket then reached for the one his grandfather held. “I’ll ask Elizabeth. I don’t know if she has something from her grandfather, or—but thank you.”

“All right, we cleaned off all the chocolate,” Monica said, emerging from the bathroom off the foyer, Cameron’s hand in hers. “He’s ready to go.”

“One more?” he asked Edward.

“Uh, I think that’s enough candy for the day.” Edward ruffled Cameron’s curls. “Next time.”

“Never enough candy,” Cameron grumbled. “More rules.”

Kelly’s: Dining Room

Spinelli spooned up the last bite of his chili. “The Jackal protests the choice of any class where he must read another book. The Blonde One must take that into account.”

Lulu glanced up from the brochure with PCU’s spring semester schedule, then looked at Dillon. “What about you? Thinking about re-enrolling? You can help me outvote Spinelli, and we can take German Lit. It’s supposed to have the weirdest readings.”

“If it’s anything like German cinema,” Dillon said dryly. He folded his arms on the table. “But no. I’m still heading out after the holidays.”

“Spoilsport.” Lulu fluttered her eyelashes. “Please—”

Spinelli scowled. “The Blonde One must not use that look. The Jackal—” He stopped when the bell over Kelly’s door jingled, and Sam came in. She spotted the trio, and smiled brightly.

“Spinelli! It’s been a long time. How are you?” Sam came over to the table. “Lulu, hey. Dillon, right?”

“Right,” Dillon said, then pulled out his phone, pretending to very interested in it. Sam frowned, then looked at Spinelli.

“How are you? How’s school?”

“It is fine.” Spinelli shoved the uneaten spoonful of chili.

“What classes are you taking? Are you still—”

“The Jackal regrets that he must leave,” Spinelli said abruptly. He snagged his bag from the side of the table. “Much homework to do.” He started for the door.

“Spinelli,” Lulu called after him, frowning, but he’d call her later. He’d explain then.

But he wanted to go. He had to go—

Sam followed him into the courtyard, snagging his arm as he reached the parking lot. “Hey. What’s the problem? We used to be friends—”

He turned to face her, swallowing hard. He did not enjoy confrontations. “The Jackal—” No. No. He didn’t have to do this. “I know what you did, and I don’t want to talk to you.”

Sam stepped back, her mouth falling open slightly. “Spinelli—”

“I know what you did with Maureen Harper. And I know you tried to hurt Stone Cold by working with Detective Dingus—” No. No, he could handle this like an adult. She had to take him seriously. “You tried to make Lucky hurt Stone Cold and his family. We are not friends.”

“Spinelli—”

“Goodbye.” He nodded, then hurried out of the parking lot, leaving her speechless in his wake.

+29