Written in 20 minutes. No time for rereads.

Spinelli knocked lightly on the side of Ellie Trout’s work station, and his girlfriend turned to flash a bright and happy smile at him. “Spinelli!”

“Hey. Hope you don’t mind me dropping by.” He couldn’t quite get past how happy she looked to see him. It was still very strange to him that Ellie liked him, but he wasn’t complaining.

“No problem. On the phone you said it was, like, important, and that it had to be during Brad’s break—so…?” Ellie looked at him expectantly.

Spinelli winced, then sat on the spare tool in her cubicle. “Listen, here’s the deal. I have a friend—who is not a drama queen and dumb about this kind of thing—she is pretty sure Brad is acting very weird around her and it started when he ran a DNA test for her.”

Ellie furrowed her brow. “A DNA test? Those are pretty standard. Why would Brad be weird about it? Other than the fact that he is a major league tool,” she muttered darkly. “I hate him.”

“Duly noted. Uh, well, it turns out that my friend—who works here, making it, like, totally above board and all that good stuff—ran this test for a friend of mine—”

“Spinelli.” Ellie rolled her eyes. “Can you just bottom line it for me? You think Brad screwed up a test. You want me to run it again?”

“Well, that’s the other question I have — is it possible he just—left the original tests in the computer or something and just gave my friend the paper results?”

“Uh…” Ellie frowned. “I don’t know. Electronic results go into the database. Did she look them in there?”

“Yeah—they matched the paper, but you guys have different databases down here and I know—”

“Oh—you mean, like when we literally ran the test matching the sequence—can I pull up those results?” Ellie turned back to her terminal. “Yeah, probably. What’s the patient name?”

“I don’t know. I just have the file number.” He slid it across the table to her. “My friend ran it through the standard system, but, um, I think maybe the actual names weren’t attached to the file.”

“Well, we’ll see—” Ellie tapped a few keys. “Man, I’d love to nail Brad for something. He’s just a dink. He was supposed to be laid off, but noooo, Tracy Quartermaine just had to donate enough money—”

She turned back to him. “Okay, so what I have here is the original sequencer. Looks like he ran a marker test on a—four month old male? Does that sound right—”

“Yeah—”

“He ran those markers against three people—” Ellie squinted at the screen. “Two sets of male DNA and one set of female—”

“Two sets of male—” Spinelli straightened his shoulders. “Are there names?”

“Nope. Initials though. J, D, S, and F. Weird. We usually use numbers. I wonder why he did it like this—I mean, every tech has their own thing and it usually doesn’t matter because it’s our internal system but—”

“Ellie,” Spinelli said with a bit of impatience. “What were the original results?”

“Oh, right! Sorry—so, it looks like D is the son of S and F. Does—does that help?” She looked at him. “I mean—”

“Wait—” Spinelli frowned. “He ran a maternal and paternal DNA marker test? How is that possible? Those two male DNAs should be related—”

“Oh, nope. No one is related to anyone—except, S and F. To D.” Ellie pursed her lips. “Is there a point where I get to know names?”

“Uh…maybe. Can you print that out for me? I need to go, um, deal with this.”

——

Jason rocked back on his heels and studied Sam, uncomfortable to have been caught shopping for Elizabeth’s Christmas present. “No, I, uh, just don’t know what—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you need anything?”

“No. No. I just—” Sam bit her lip. “I felt bad about the last time we talked. At Kelly’s, before Halloween.” She folded her arms. “I had no right to ask you that question. We’re—you know, we signed the papers and everything. I just—”

She looked at the lineoleum tile. “I don’t know. I know you saw me that day with John, and you didn’t say anything about it. And maybe I was mad. Because you hated me spending time with him before and now it’s like it doesn’t matter—”

“I didn’t like it before,” Jason said carefully, “because I knew you were telling him things we should have been handling together. I was angry because I knew I wasn’t treating you well. That I wasn’t there for you. I hated him for being able to help when I couldn’t.”

“Oh.” Sam met his eyes. “Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. Um, you know, that’s part of the reason I don’t like Elizabeth. Like—she always seem to get you and—it’s not that I didn’t—but it always took me longer, and that was—I hated it. And I hated her. Then I hated you, and it just—” She exhaled on a huff of air. “It twisted everything inside, and I don’t know if we ever fixed it.”

“Sam—”

“And none of it really matters now,” she continued, “because we are divorced, and I don’t know, I think maybe it’s for the best?” Her voice trailed up—and he knew she was asking him the question.

Was he sorry their marriage was over?

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” he said after a moment. “That we hurt each other. Back then, a year ago, a few months ago. But yeah, I think it’s for the best. The divorce.”

Sam did a slight double take, and he thought maybe—maybe she’d been hoping for something else.

But he was…happy now. Even if he didn’t know what to buy Elizabeth for Christmas, he’d been happy these last few weeks since Halloween, since the day she’d declared herself the Queen of Regrets and offered him the position of king.

He didn’t want to go back. Didn’t see a reason to.

“I’m dating John,” Sam told him. “I just—I thought you should know.”

“I hope you’re happy,” Jason told her. “That’s all I want.”

“Well, then you’re a better person than me,” Sam confessed. “Because I don’t think I’m ready to wish you the same. Not with her. Maybe one day.”

She walked away, leaving Jason at the jewelry counter. He’d promised to tell the truth and he wasn’t sorry for it. He just wish the truth didn’t always seem to hurt someone.

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