And it’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound
It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you
You’re a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town
And I just wanted you to know
That this is me trying
And maybe I don’t quite know what to say
I just wanted you to know
That this is me trying
At least I’m trying
– this is me trying, Taylor Swift

---

Saturday, January 6, 2018

 Morgan House: Living Room

Jason released her arm, his chest tight, and what felt like heat in his cheeks. He’d overreacted. He saw that now. She was smiling—or she had been—until he’d dragged her inside. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s fine.” Elizabeth forced her smile back.  “I, um, guess I surprised you or something. Did I interrupt something important?” She dropped her purse over the back of the sofa, then unbuttoned her white coat. Her smile was rueful as she tugged off the knit hat, snowflakes clinging to her hair. The hat, then the coat followed the purse.

“No. No. Did you find something in the files?” The medical reports. Had she found another identity—

This time her smile disappeared entirely, and she took a deep breath. “No.”

“I was—” He looked over at the table tucked under the windows. “I was almost finished the with WSB files. Did you—we could do that—”

“Did you find something?” she asked, folding her arms, her tone a bit dull. He frowned, not exactly sure what was happening. “You said you wanted to get through them before Spinelli decrypted another batch.” Her eyes met his, but they were careful. Blank. “That’s why you had to go home last night, right? That’s what was so important.”

“No. Nothing new.” He cleared his throat. “Is—is something wrong?”

“I already told you—” Elizabeth closed her eyes, shook her head. “No. Nothing’s wrong. Nothing that I didn’t do to myself.”

They stood there another moment, a strange, almost tense silence lingering. Jason cleared his throat. “What about the medical records? Did you bring them with you—we can get them from the car—”

“No, I didn’t bring the damn files—is that all you can think about?” Elizabeth bit out, a dark flush staining her cheeks. Then she winced. “I’m sorry. That didn’t—I didn’t—”

She’d said nothing was wrong, but something certainly was. Jason’s arms fell to his side. “We don’t have to do that—”

“No. It’s fine. You know what? Never mind. This was a stupid idea. I’ll just go.” Elizabeth turned, her hands extended as if to snatch up the things she’d just tossed on the sofa, and Jason nearly let her. Whatever was wrong, she didn’t want to tell him, and maybe he didn’t want to know—

But she was angry, and it was with him, and she hadn’t been when she’d arrived. He couldn’t stand to let her leave that way—had to understand what he’d done wrong—

“Wait. Wait,” he repeated, grabbing the hat from her. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

The angry flush had already faded, and her shoulders slumped. “Nothing. This is me. All me. I just—” His stomach clenched when he saw the tears glimmering, just for an instant before she closed her eyes, turned away. “I’m sorry. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. Elizabeth—”

“I wish we’d never found those damned files,” she said softly, almost inaudibly. “Or maybe it’d be easier if New Year’s hadn’t happened.”

New Year’s. The night they’d spent together. When he’d asked her for just one more chance and she’d said yes. He swallowed hard. “Why?” he asked, his tone rougher than he’d expected, but the words had been torn from a place deep inside him, the space where he always kept asking why he wasn’t good enough, why she didn’t pick him—

“It just feels like nothing’s changed. Or that the wrong things have or—” Elizabeth faced him, but her eyes were downcast, her arms wrapped around her middle. “Did you tell me you loved me because you do? Or because of all the times we didn’t work? I just—” She raised her face, stained by tears she hadn’t wanted him to see. “We had that day, and I thought things would be different.”

“Different,” Jason said slowly, still not tracking the conversation. “I don’t—”

“This is so stupid,” Elizabeth muttered, swiping at her eyes. “I’m not some silly girl anymore. And it’s not like we’re in high school. We’re not young—”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Truly bewildered now, Jason tossed the hat he’d still been holding to the side. “Elizabeth, I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I know. I know. I have to stop waiting for you to magically understand what idiotic thought I’m having and just tell you, I know that’s my fault. It’s always my fault, all the way back to Zander and Lucky and lying about Jake—because I didn’t know how to say what I wanted, and I never do. I just wait for you to do it, and then you don’t for whatever reason, and then we always end up back here, with me blowing things up because I’m an impatient, silly moron who lets things built up until something stupid makes me blow up—”

Completely lost, but unhappy with how she’d stopped being angry with him and was now turning it on herself, Jason reached for her hands, drew her closer. “You’re none of those things, and you know it. But I can’t read minds, Elizabeth.”

“You used to,” she murmured, almost wistfully. “Before I ruined things. Back in the beginning—you used to know when I was lying—”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he corrected gently. “And I wasn’t in love with you then. It got harder to know what you were thinking because it mattered so much.” She closed her eyes, but he could feel some of the tension draining from her shoulders. She sighed, her breath shaky, then rested her forehead against his chest. Jason slid his hands up and down her arms. “What’s wrong? Tell me how to fix it and I will.”

“It’s going to sound stupid when I say it out loud.” Now her voice sounded sullen, almost like the younger woman she claimed she no longer was, and a smile tugged at his lips. The storm had passed, and now she just had to tell him what she needed so he could give it to her.

“It won’t, but if it makes you feel better, you don’t have to look at me.”

She remained quiet so long Jason thought she might not say anything at all. “I needed you to be happy I was here,” she said softly, and his hands, still stroking her arms from shoulder to elbow, then back again, stilled.

“I don’t—” Jason stopped. Mystified.

“I told you it was stupid. It is. I just—I wanted to come over here because the boys were going to be gone all day and tonight—and I wanted it to be a surprise, and I wanted you to be happy it was me, and maybe you’d hold me like this but it’s not the same if I’m upset, and I told you it was stupid, but you insisted, and now I feel like an idiot and you probably feel bad and I am so mad at myself—”

The words said in such a rush that it took Jason a moment to process them—when they’d sunk in, when he’d absorbed the meaning—the simplicity of what she’d been looking for—his breath caught.

“I—”

Elizabeth gently tugged away, and he let her, still unsure how to navigate the tricky situation. Had he thought the storm had passed?  She’d wanted him to be happy to see her, to treat her like the woman he loved, and instead, he’d just started demanding to know what was wrong—he’d grabbed her, yanked her into the house—hadn’t even said hello.

“I’m sorry. It was stupid, and I know better, and I’m sorry,” Elizabeth repeated. She took a deep breath and finally looked at him again. “We’ll just forget it happened, okay? Let’s read the files or something. They’re important. I know they are. So let’s go do that.”

“It’s not stupid,” Jason said, and she shook her head, the flush rising again in her cheeks. “Elizabeth—”

“I’m not a girl, okay? I’m an adult. And I’m not selfish. I worked so hard not to be selfish, so I’m not anymore. You brought these ones to the house, so they matter, right? So let’s look at them and see—”

If he went along with it, if he let her push this away, if he didn’t find a way to really fix this—he’d never get the chance again.

“I don’t care about the damned files, Elizabeth.”

Webber House: Living Room

Cameron spread out a few books, set up his laptop, flicked the television to the Spotify app, and selected a random playlist. With some sodas and a few bags of chips, Cam figured he was ready for a day of studying.

He was only halfway through his French study guide when the doorbell rang. He glanced towards the door, then froze when he saw Emma peering in the window, then smiling and waving when she spied him inside.

“Oh, you’re busy,” Emma said when he let her in, and she saw the cluttered coffee table. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was bored hanging around the house, so Grandpa said he’d drop me off—I should have called—” She bit her lip. “Maybe I could go watch a movie or something—”

“No, no, it’s cool.” Cameron closed the door. “It’s just—I’ve got the house to myself today. Probably until tomorrow,” he admitted. “Jake and Aiden went to friends’ houses, and Mom said she was going to Jason’s.”

“Oh. Oh,” Emma said, widening her eyes. “So that’s—that’s happening.”

“Not thinking too much about it.” Because absolutely not. He wanted his mother to be happy. He just had zero interest in the how. As long it wasn’t with another serial killer, Cam could live with just about anything else. “New Year’s, I think.”

“That’s nice. You know, I always shipped them—”

“You can’t ship real people,” Cameron grumbled, returning to the sofa. Emma curled up in the armchair, just the way she’d done at the old house, in a different chair. Emma always liked to settle in, to make herself comfortable. “We talked about this when Selena and Justin broke up the first time.”

“I believe in true love, and their time is coming. I never liked Sam anyway.”

“That’s not remotely true. You liked her just fine when she was dating your dad.” Cam tossed her one of the sodas he’d put aside for himself. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I never cared that you liked her. I didn’t think about her much until that stuff happened with my brother, when we lost the house.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s coloring some of it now. She was just—she was different with us, you know. She and my dad were happy, and I liked having Danny as a brother. Or at least I thought I would get to have him. But Mom and Dad are, like, better than ever,” she continued, “and now we have Noah, so it all works out.”

“Yeah.” Cameron paused. “You…stopped being mad about your mom going away for so long?”

“Well, I didn’t know she didn’t have a choice for most of it. We all thought she just went to Africa. But then she came back, and we found out Helena was behind everything.” Emma picked at the cuff of her sweater. “What an evil bitch. I’m glad she’s dead. She hurt a lot of people. Especially your brother. And your mom. Mine. All these other people we probably don’t even know about it.”

“I’m glad she’s dead, too. Hope it sticks this time,” Cameron muttered. “Cassadines suck at staying dead.”

“I know. And the ones that shouldn’t be dead are, like Spencer’s dad. Valentin—he’s, like, the last one out there, right? I mean, the last bad buy.”

“That we know of. I think that’s what my mom and everyone else is trying to figure out. They’ve been more careful not to talk about much around us since Christmas.”

“But Spencer’s getting to read files, so—” Emma paused. “Oh, what’s that look for?”

“I don’t have a look.”

“I know your face, Cameron.” She tipped her head. “Did you and Spencer fight? I thought you were past all of that.”

“We are. We were,” he corrected. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But he’s still the same jackass he was back then. He wasn’t allowed to read those files, Emma.”

“He wasn’t? He didn’t tell me that. He just said his grandmother wasn’t happy—”

“Yeah. Of course he would.” Cameron scowled. “He didn’t tell Jason he wasn’t allowed, and then Grandma Laura found out. She yelled at Jason, and he sort got mad back, and then when he told my mom, they had a fight—”

“Oh, no.'”

“I mean, it’s fine now, obviously. She went to his house today. But Spencer doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He didn’t even consider that Grandma would find out or what she’d say. And now he’s mad at me for some dumb reason, and he thinks I don’t care what happened, but of course I do.” He slumped in his chair. “He called me a coward,” he muttered. Just like when they were kids.

Emma wrinkled her nose. “Why? Because you’re not charging out on a horse in full white knight armor? Honestly. He never changes, does he?” She sighed. “He’s wrong, you know.”

“I know he is.”

She studied him. “Do you? Because I know how you sound when you’re lying to yourself, and this feels like lying—”

“Em—”

“You’re not a coward, Cam. You and Spencer just approach life differently. You always have. Spencer goes full-throttle. He acts first, acts later, and if there’s time, maybe he asks a few questions. But that’s never been you.”

“And now I sound boring,” Cameron said, leaning his head back against the sofa, staring up. “Because I just sit and play video games all day.”

“Is that what you think?”  Emma sat next to him, and he could feel her eyes on him. “I always liked that you were thoughtful. That you cared about people. Spencer was six hours ahead of you in London, and I was three hours behind you. But you came up with a schedule so we could play those video games. So Spence and I could feel connected to home.”

“It’s not that hard.”

“And you sit with your brothers and let them help you with the games. How many times did you die in Assassin’s Creed taking Aiden’s advice?”

“Too many,” he muttered. Kid had no sense of strategy.

“But you made him feel so awesome every time, I bet. And Jake. You used to do origami and all these cool paper art projects. But Jake got into art, and you dialed back because you wanted him to shine. You knew he needed to shine at something after everything else he’d been through, and it wasn’t that important to you.”

“Em—”

“The world needs people like Spencer, okay? Because you need someone to go forth and do reckless things. Sometimes they’re brave, a lot of the time they’re stupid. Nothing gets done without a little risk. But we also really need people like you. Kind, thoughtful — someone who unfortunately spends a lot of time cleaning up the mistakes of the reckless ones.”

She smiled. “Don’t let Spencer chase away what makes you sweet, Cam. It’s not weak or cowardly to look after people. The world might need both kinds of people, but we don’t have nearly as many of you as we should.”

Morgan House: Living Room

Even if the Grand Canyon opened in the middle of the Jason’s living room, it would still not be deep or wide enough to swallow her whole. What a colossally stupid moron she was. She’d just wanted to take Felix’s advice because it was good advice—

But she hadn’t counted on Jason opening the door and looking at her like she was a ghost—or worse, like an uninvited guest—because something had to be wrong for her to just show up, didn’t it? She couldn’t just drop in on the man she loved, and hope he was in the mood—stupid—

“You do care about the files,” Elizabeth said, carefully. “We both do. And I know we’ve got more important things to worry about. I’m fine. It was just a moment of insanity, and it’s over now. I felt better saying it out loud, actually, and we’ll just forget it happened—”

“There’s nothing more important than you—” Jason began but her mortification, still simmering just under the surface, shifted into bitter resentment and fury before she’d realized it, but instead of unleashing it, Elizabeth found herself laughing, so richly and genuinely, that Jason closed his mouth, baffled.

“I know it’s not funny—I know—” But wasn’t it absolutely, positively hysterical that this man could stand in front of her with a straight face and say that statement?  “But, oh, man, I can’t help it.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I could make a list of all the things you’ve made more important than me for the last two decades, and I’d run out of fingers. Something is always more important than me,” she bit out, her mirth finally fading. “Sonny and Carly are good places to start, but, hey, you could counter that with Lucky. We’ll call it even on that, I guess. But don’t you stand there and pretend you’ve always put me first.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “No, I can’t. But, like you said, neither can you.”

“No, I can’t.” And that was that. Too much water under the bridge—they were practically drowning in it. “Look, this was all a mistake. We’ll just go back to how things were before—” She’d just get her things and go. Should have it left alone. Was she ever going to learn not to push and push—

“I told you I wasn’t letting go. Not this time.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Jason—”

“No. Not this time,” Jason repeated. “I said I’d hold on, even if you wanted me to let go. That’s what I’m doing now. You’re afraid we’re going to hurt each other again. So am I. And we’re not as young as we used to be. I don’t know how many more times we’ve got to get this right. But it’s not going to work if one of us always has a hand on the door, ready to run. Today it’s you, but it’s been me, too.”

“Sometimes it feels like it’s all we know how to do,” Elizabeth murmured, pressing a hand against her chest. “Maybe it’s what we bring to each other—”

“I don’t believe that. And neither do you.” He reached for that hand, took it between his own. “Let’s leave the rest of that alone for now. We both messed up. At different times. At the same times. There’s no point trying to decide who hurt who worse, okay?”

For now. Sure. They’d put it away for now. Elizabeth forced a smile. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. Fresh start—”

“No, that’s not—” He stopped. “Look, today, I’m sorry. I hurt you. I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to apologize for not living up to my expectations, I told you—”

“I do when the way I treat you doesn’t make you feel good about yourself. About us. I love you,” he said for the second time, and she just looked away, “but that’s not how I acted when you came to the door. And I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology. Let’s just forget it—”

“Let me finish,” he said softly, and Elizabeth closed her mouth. She’d made enough of a fool of herself, but if he wanted to extend her embarrassment and prolong the humiliation, well, she’d earned that, hadn’t she? “Before you got here—I was looking at Lucky’s files.”

She frowned. “Lucky’s—”

“And I watched one of the videos.” He paused. “I just—it took me back. To Russia.” He flexed his hand, stared at it.  “I woke up in that clinic eight months ago. Almost a year now,” he murmured, more to himself than to her, and now she focused on him, not thinking about her own silliness. “I woke up, and I couldn’t move. I spent months trying to get my strength back. Every waking moment, I only thought about one thing. Home. I had to get home.”

“Jason—”

“Survival mode, you know what that’s like. You’ve been through it. You keep moving forward, but you can’t look down because it’ll just paralyze you. You just focus on the goal. On waking up. On moving a finger. You can’t think about how it shouldn’t be that hard just to move one damned finger.”

He still held one of her hands, so she raised the other, touched his chest, her fingertips brushing against his heart, comforted by its beat. “I do know what it’s like. Not to that extent, but I do.”

“I focused on getting here. On coming home. But home wasn’t there anymore. I’m not talking about Sam,” he added, and she grimaced, hating that he’d guessed what she’d been thinking. “I’m talking about the penthouse. I’d never lived anywhere else as long. Ten years, Elizabeth. Almost all of the life I remember, that was home. My pool table. The view of the harbor, the travel books. My bike in the parking garage. I just wanted to come home. But it wasn’t there. Not because Sam didn’t want me to be there or because she’d remarried. But it was the wrong colors, and there was a dining table now—she said she put it all into storage, but it was gone. A broken pipe in the basement, they said—”

“You never told me that,” Elizabeth said, her chest aching.

“It’s been better the last few months. I don’t think about any of it much, and I haven’t needed to worry about survival. Jake’s alive, which was a miracle I never could have dreamed. He’s here, and I get to be a part of his life.” His gaze held hers, those beautiful eyes glimmering with his own unshed tears. Jason swallowed hard. “I don’t think about it—I wasn’t thinking about it,” he corrected. “I wanted answers, sure, and there were difficult moments. It hasn’t been easy. But I had you. And the boys,” he added, “but it started with you. And with Sonny knowing me the second he saw me. And Carly, as crazy as it sounds, pulling her crap. I got to feel like myself again.”

“And reading Lucky’s files—it put you back there,” Elizabeth murmured. “You’re back in survival mode.”

“Part of it. Constantly reading and thinking about all the terrible things the Cassadines and the WSB have done—” Jason exhaled slowly, looked back at the table. “Knowing that it stretches so far back—I don’t care much about the man Lucky grew up to be, but damn it, I liked the kid he was before the fire. And they played with his head the way they did to Jake. What else did they do? Who else did they hurt? And Valentin’s in Turkey, and the only people we have to look for answers are Spencers—”

He grimaced. “So, yeah, when you showed up, instead of just being happy to see you, I thought of all the terrible things that could have happened to bring you over. All the people they could have hurt.”

“Don’t apologize again,” Elizabeth said, and he closed his mouth. “I get it. I do. It’s okay.” She meant it that time, and hoped he could see it. “It’s overwhelming, sometimes, to think of the damage and destruction Helena and Victor were causing while we were here living our lives. And now, knowing about Lucky—” She sighed. “It just makes me feel more guilty. We thought we finished it back then. When we killed Stavros. The first time,” she added with a mutter. “But we left Helena alive. And she had time, she had resources. She was able to regroup and cause more chaos. Even dead two years, she’s reaching beyond the grave. It kills me to think if we’d just finished it right, if we’d cut off the damned head of the snake back then, maybe Jake would—” Her voice broke. “Maybe Drew would know his own son, and you wouldn’t have had five more years stolen—”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, shook her head. “But she’s not getting one more minute from me. She’s dead. Actually dead this time. I’m not going to let her haunt me. And I don’t want her to haunt you, either.”

“I won’t.” Jason bowed his head so that their foreheads met. “I am happy to see you,” he murmured. “I always am.”

“Good.” She cleared her throat, slid both her hands to rest on his chest. “Unless you really want to spend the day reading those files—”

“Absolutely not,” Jason said immediately, and she laughed. “Not even a little bit.”

“Then maybe we can just start over again.” Elizabeth tossed her hair over her shoulder, arched a brow. “You know I had a plan for today.”

“Did you?” he murmured, lowering his hands until they rested at her hips.

“I did. The first time you brought me to this house, we only had a few hours,” she reminded him, “which I think we used pretty efficiently.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Jason said, but now he was grinning, and his eyes sparkling. “Sure.”

“There’s a few rooms we didn’t get to, including the second bathroom.” Elizabeth stepped back, bracing one hand against the sofa to unzip her snow boots. She kicked them both off.

“I remember how you feel about testing the showers—”

“Well—” Elizabeth reached for the hem of her sweater and got to enjoy the stunned look in his eyes for a moment before she tossed it at him. “Race you.”

And took off for the stairs.

Devane Manor: Living Room

Anna paced the living room, listening as Robert and Luke conferenced in the background. She didn’t participate or offer any of her own conclusions — she wanted to hear what Luke was saying, and how he was saying it.

To what he wasn’t saying.

“All right, keep in touch,” Robert said. He closed the top of the laptop then looked at her. “I hate to say it—”

“But Jason and Drew aren’t entirely wrong to suspect we’re not being told everything.” Anna wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hand stroking her chin, considering all the information that she’d taken in. “I talked to Aydin in the Istanbul office. They did give him two low-level agents to help with reconnaissance, but that’s all.”

“No list of information.”

“Nothing that should have taken precedence over Spinelli’s intel.” Anna frowned. “You worked with Luke more than I did in the old days. He was gone by the time I came to Port Charles. You said he’d always been reliable, even if he did things his own way.”

“The auction held back in the day for the Ice Princess. It disappeared that night, and so did Luke. He resurfaced a few weeks later — without the Princess but he never told us where or why he’d gone off the grid.” Robert leaned back, crossed one leg. “I didn’t question it much at the time, but you know what it was like with him in the Markaams. He’s always flown solo. He took Laura along for the ride from time to time, but he plays everything close to the chest.”

“I can’t stop thinking of that summer he brought little Jake home. He and Lucky went to do that without telling a single soul what they’d suspected, and then dropped him off like a parcel they needed to deliver. Luke’s in it for Luke. Even when he says he’s doing it for family.” Anna paused. “I believe he’s keeping something from us. I just can’t quite understand what. Or why. To what purpose?”

“I don’t know, and frankly, I’m a little worried to find out.”

Morgan House: Hallway

He caught her before she reached the bathroom, swallowing her giggles and laughter with a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of the frustration and want he’d been holding back into the embrace, dragging her against him and pressing her against the wall in the hallway.

He’d always wanted her, for weeks, for months, years, for what felt like the better part of his entire life—Jason had thought about Elizabeth, about the way she’d taste and feel beneath his hands—he’d just had to lock it away. She didn’t want him when he’d wanted her—or they weren’t supposed to let the world see how they felt—

But it was different now, and he didn’t have to pretend. The whole world could know—could see—and he was allowed to touch her whenever he wanted—and she’d come here for this—

“You wear this every day?” he murmured, sliding one finger under the delicate, lacy bra, so sheer that he could see the skin beneath.

“Not every day,” Elizabeth teased, her fingers fumbling with the snap of his jeans—she’d been smarter, he realized, and had worn black pants that just needed a light tug before she wriggled out of them—then her arms were around his neck, and he didn’t know if she’d boosted herself up or he’d lifted her first, but her long legs were locked around his waist, pressing everything up against him.

He stumbled—they hadn’t quite manage to remove his jeans as smoothly as she’d shed her pants—and Elizabeth giggled again, sounding like the carefree girl she’d sworn had grown up.

Jason scowled at her, but kissed her again, holding her tight against him as he leaned against the wall and shook his legs, freeing the trapped denim from his ankle. He managed to get to the open doorway and through it to the bed where he dumped her almost unceremoniously.

Elizabeth sat up, her hands flat against the mattress behind her, legs pressed demurely together, and her hair—all the thick, loose waves his fingers itched to dive into—cascading down her back. He swore, then stripped off his shirt and covered her, kissing that wicked smile from her mouth—she’d pay for this, he promised, and they’d both enjoy every minute.

Jones-West Apartment: Living Room

“Not I don’t love having you over here all the time,” Maxie Jones-West plopped onto the sofa next to Spinelli, swirling a spoon in her pint of gelato, “because I know the hotel is so boring, but have you thought getting your own place?”

“It’s on the list, fair Maximista,” Spinelli murmured, tapping a few keys. When yet another fail screen came up, he scowled, smacked the laptop. How could such a simple encryption key elude him? He was the frigging Jackal—

“You know, Nathan loves you, and I’m not mad at the oodles of time I get to spend with Georgie, but seriously—”

“The man is nothing more than a common peasant,” Spinelli muttered, “and he thinks to outsmart me—”

Maxie rolled her eyes. “Nathan’s not trying to outsmart you, he just wants the sofa back—”

“What—” Spinelli blinked, his eyes clouded with confusion. “Oh. No. Not the Determined Detective, the Dastardly Doctor—”

“Wait, wait, I know this one—” Maxie set her gelato aside. “Dastardly Doctor is that Maddox guy, right? The one who put the whammy on Jason and Drew and little Jake—”

“Yes, yes—” Spinelli sat back, drumming his fingers against his jeans. “I cannot seem to free these files from their cages—”

“You’re working too hard. I recognize this. Not from me, of course,” Maxie added hastily when Spinelli swung her a skeptical glance. “I know how to balance life. No, from Uncle Mac. He used to get like this on the big cases. He’d get all huffed and puffed, and Georgie would—” Maxie took a breath, forced a smile. “She’d tease him about something and make him smile. Or talk him into watching just a half hour of something on television. Or go out for a dinner. Just something to take his mind off it—”

“What if these files hold the key to Drew’s memories?” Spinelli asked.

“No nickname for Drew?”

“No. I ran out of D adjectives,” he muttered. “I’m working on it. They don’t come as easily as they used to.”

“Because you grew out of them. You stopped needing to create a fantasy world with a cast of characters. You’re using them again because of Jason.” Maxie tipped her head. “Because you wanted him to feel okay, like things haven’t changed so much—” Maxie shrugged when he just stared at her. “It’s sweet, you know. Jason secretly probably loves it even though he complains. That can be your brain break, you know. Let’s come up with a name for Drew.”

“It’s—” Disgusted, Spinelli glared at her. “That’s not how this works.”

“No, no, I can do this. What about a nickname you used for Jason but he made you stop using? You don’t always use Stone Cold.”

“Sometimes I go with Yoda,” Spinelli said reluctantly. “But Drew should get his own name. He doesn’t need more hand-me-downs.”

“Fair. Fair.” Maxie tapped a finger against her lip. “Drew’s in business. He has an office. Wears suits. He was in the military, too. You could go with Lieutenant Suits.”

“You know, I used to call you The Evil Blonde One,” Spinelli muttered, pushing himself to his feet. “And Bad Blonde One—”

“I lived such a rich, full life before motherhood,” Maxie said wistfully. “I think I was Mouthy One, too.”

“You had a long list.” Spinelli made another face.

“How about Brave Business Guy?”

“Now you’re just insulting me.”

“Banging Business Dude.”

“Did you—” Spinelli broke off and rolled his eyes. “You did a search for adjectives that begin with B.”

“I did indeed.” Maxie brightened, waved her phone. “Ooh, oh, I have it. Brawny Business Dude.” When he just glared at her, she continued. “Do you like bodacious better?”

“No. No, I do not. But I will take your advice on something else,” Spinelli muttered, opening a new tab on his computer. “Finding my own place.”

“Ha. You’ll miss me. Business is out. And maybe military isn’t a good idea when he doesn’t remember anything yet. Oh, oh! Delectable Drew—wait, that would be more for me.”

Spinelli opened his mouth to protest, but there was a beep and notification from one of the programs running in the background. He clicked to bring up the window.

“What’s that?” Maxie asked. She leaned forward. “It looks like a map. But I don’t recognize the places—”

“It’s Istanbul—” Spinelli exhaled slowly. “And those dots are times and places that the Spencers looked at files I put in the shared folder. I, ah, put a trace on them so I could track their devices.”

“The Spencers? Like Luke and Lucky.” She frowned. “Why did you have to do that?”

“Because they’re not telling us everything they know, but we couldn’t prove it.” Spinelli zoomed in on the device locations, and a chill slid down his spine.

“Can you prove it now?”

“I need to make a call.”

Morgan House: Master Bedroom

Still panting, Elizabeth lay on her back, sweat glimmering from the hollow of her neck. “You know, when I said we weren’t that young anymore—it wasn’t meant as a dare.”

“You didn’t sound unhappy about it a few minutes ago.” Jason leaned up on one elbow. “Or maybe my hearing needs to be checked.”

She closed her eyes, drifting on the languid bliss. “Mmm, no. No complaints. Not even one.”

“Good.” He grunted, then laid back. They lay in silence, just content to hear each other breathe. “One day a week.”

Elizabeth blinked, turned her head towards him. “What?”

“I know it can’t be nights. Not a lot. Not with the boys,” Jason added. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the palm. “But, you know, they go to school. And I set my own schedule.”

“So do I.” She cuddled close to him, tucking herself into his embrace. “One day a week.”

“One day when it’s just us. We don’t talk about the files or Cassadines or memory experiments.” His fingers dipped into her hair again, letting a few silky strands wind around the tips. “You deserve more than that, but—”

“So do you. And maybe we’ll have weeks when it’s more. But I like it. It’s a good promise. One day a week.” Elizabeth smiled, then leaned down to kiss him. “But I still have the rest of tonight.”

“Then we better not waste any of it.”

Spencer House: Living Room

“Spinelli, this is a bit of surprise—” Laura stepped back to let the tech through the front door. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes. I hope it’s okay I just dropped by like this.” Spinelli removed his bag and went to the dining table where he set up his laptop. “I called Stone Cold and Elizabeth, but they weren’t picking up—”

“Neither of them?” Laura asked. “But—”

“I drove past his house.” His ears itched and his cheeks were warm as he continued, “And the Fair Elizabeth’s car was there. I, ah, think they’re taking a break from…” He gestured at the computer. “This.”

“A break—oh. Right.” Laura pressed her lips together. “But you thought there was something that needed to be talked about?”

“Yes. I…” He hesitated now. “I don’t know if anyone really talked to you about the call we had on Friday. With, um, Luke.”

“Elizabeth left me a message about it.” Laura sat at the table. “Luke hasn’t found anything. Has that changed?”

“It’s hard to say.” Spinelli rested his hands on the back of a chair. “Stone Cold—” He paused, thinking of his conversation with Maxie about nicknames. “Jason and Drew have both expressed, um, worries that perhaps Luke and Lucky weren’t being, well, entirely up front with us. About what they were doing in Turkey.”

Laura exhaled slowly, looked at the laptop. “And you’re here now, so am I correct in thinking that you have some proof that this is true?”

“Yes.” Spinelli tapped some keys, and the map came up. “I sent a new batch of files to them, embedded with a trace. As soon as they opened it up, I was able to see everywhere they’ve been. Every device that’s accessed these files. Luke told us he’d been working with a WSB list of addresses. Anna and Robert were surprised by that—which sent up the first red flag. My list had included a lab in Maslak where Joseph Klein worked prior to Russia.”

“He ran the lab in St. Petersburg and was holding Jason hostage there.”

“Yes. That’s why I was certain this address was our best bet. But Luke didn’t go there until today.” Spinelli zoomed in so that Laura could see. “His cell phone. It’s at Maslak last night. Well, last night in their time zone. He went straight from our phone call to the lab. And then stayed there. All night.”

“This just proves that he listened to you on that call, Spinelli. He took your word—” Laura stopped. Looked at the map again. “Wait. I don’t understand. These other devices—”

“They don’t have locations. All I can see is that they accessed the files. But their location is cloaked. Whatever network they’re accessing the net from? It’s blocked. But as soon as they leave it, I can see it.” Spinelli hesitated. “And there’s more. Luke and Lucky aren’t the only people who’ve accessed these files. A third computer has access. I planted another trace in the files to gain remote access so I can see who this person is. But I’m troubled that Lucky—and it has to be Lucky—is cloaking his location but doesn’t bother to do the same when those devices leave wherever they are. Why cloak that and not all of it?”

“That…does raise some red flags.” Laura leaned back. “I suppose we should talk to Robert. And keep our eye on what else these devices do. I don’t want to believe that my son is keeping secrets, but…” She rubbed the side of her face. “I know from experience that Lucky follows Luke’s lead in these things. I don’t know if this proves they’re keeping something important, but it does suggest some questions.”

She cleared her throat. “I’ll call Robert. He can come over, look at your information. And we can determine what to do from there.”

“And, um, Stone Cold?”

“Let’s call Drew,” Laura suggested, rising from the table. “Jason’s earned himself a day off. If we learn something concrete, we’ll loop them in.”

Morgan House: Kitchen

Elizabeth rose on her toes to open a cabinet, then made a face. “Do you ever go out for food?”

“No.” Jason’s arms encircled her waist and she leaned back against him, closing her eyes as his lips trailed down her neck. “We could just call for pizza—”

“Not at ten—” But she cut off her protest, turning and sliding her fingertips up his bare chest. Two could play that game, she decided with a grin. “You know, you can get groceries delivered now. There’s an app for that.”

“You sound like Spinelli,” he muttered, but sighed and stepped back, looking at the sparse contents of his cabinets. “There’s probably some pretzels somewhere.”

She rolled her eyes and went back to searching the kitchen, her stomach growling. “Hey, I tried to take a break for food earlier.”

“You did,” Jason said. “But you also suggested we take a shower first.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, okay. That’s on me.” She turned her attention to the fridge—specifically the freezer. “You have one bag of frozen vegetables. That’s it. Why?”

“I think that was left over from Sonny—” Jason took the bag from her and examined it. “He stocked the kitchen when I first got home. But I don’t spend a lot of time here. Other than sleeping,” he added. “I don’t usually eat breakfast, and Spinelli orders at the garage for lunch,” he added.

“And I guess you’ve been with us for dinner most of the time. Fine. But you need frozen pizzas for emergencies.” She put the bag back in the freezer, tapping a finger against the handle after closing the door, considering their options. “There’s nothing open twenty-four hours. Not for delivery. I could run to my place—I’ve always got pizza.”  But she didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to leave or do anything to pop the lovely, happy bubble they’d spent all day enjoying.

“We could just go to sleep,” Jason suggested, tugging her back against his chest, sliding her hair out of the way so he could nibble at her ear again. “Wake up early, go for a ride, get breakfast—”

“Mmm, that sounds like a really great idea. And you know, Jake and Aiden won’t be home until late tomorrow, so I don’t even have to rush away anywhere.” She turned in his arms. “Because you know, tomorrow is Sunday. And that’s a whole new week.”

“I did promise you one day a week.” He dipped his head down to kiss her, and she sighed happily.

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