Written in 20 minutes. No time for typos or rereads.

Elizabeth made a face when her pen rolled off the desk at the nurse’s station. She ducked down to grab it—and then because it was a Monday, and this was her life—it rolled underneath a table.

“Damn it—”

It took her nearly two minutes to drag the stupid thing out, but if she’d left it on the floor, she’d end up tripping on it.

Because it was a Monday.

She finally straightened up—and Brad Cooper, standing just on the other side of the nurse’s station jumped nearly a full foot in the air, his eyes bulging out of his face. “Where the hell did you come from?” he demanded, clasping his charts to his chest.

Elizabeth frowned at him, looked around her as if to check to see if Helena Cassadine or someone terrifying had popped up — but no, he was talking to her.

“Uh, I dropped my pen. Where did you come from?” she asked pointedly. Strange little man.

“I have test results to drop off.” Brad dropped them in the basket, then walked very quickly towards the elevators, looking at her again as he jabbed the button.

“Scaring the lab techs again?” Patrick asked as he came up behind her. They both watched Brad jabbed the button two more times in quick sucession before giving Elizabeth another look, then stepping on to the elevator.

“No, that’s your job,” she said. “I think I just scared him, and he’s jumpy as it is.”

“I try not to talk to the people who work in the lower levels,” Patrick murmured. “It gives them ideas.”

She rolled her eyes, leaving the moment light as he knew he’d appreciate. Of course, Patrick had once been married to a woman who worked in those lower levels.

Robin had died only eight months earlier, in a ghastly explosion that had devastated them all. Patrick had really struggled in the first six months, but since they’d all nearly died in the water poison crisis, he seemed to be getting better.

“Hey, I was thinking about Halloween,” Patrick told her. “It’s in three weeks, but Emma’s got a party—”

“So does Cameron,” Elizabeth said. “He asked me to bake brownies. Do you want me to toss a batch Emma’s way?”

“It would save me from from running to the store in the middle of the night and ending up with candy corn.” He grimaced. “She still brings it up like it was some kind of terrible crime.”

“Candy corn is a war crime, and should be treated as such,” Elizabeth returned with a roll of her eyes. “Yeah, sure, I can double up the brownies. You still coming over for dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah, thanks for the invite.” He hesitated. Lifted his brows. “Is Jason going to be there?”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, but his expression remained bland and innocent. She didn’t believe it for a minute, but still answered him. “Yes. He’s going with us to Cameron’s pumpkin carving thing in the park, and Cam asked him to stay for dinner. Is that a problem?”

“It should be,” Patrick said darkly. “He’s the reason—”

“No.” Elizabeth touched his arm. “No. It was his medicine that Robin went back for, but he’s not the reason. You know that. She would have done it for any patient.”

He exhaled slowly, looked away. “I know that.” Patrick waited a moment. “I know that,” he repeated. “But it makes it easier to blame someone. If I can’t blame him, I’m stuck with Maxie, and she’s been through enough.”

“He never would have asked her to sacrifice her life for his, you know that.” Elizabeth sighed. “Look, it’s not—we’re not dating, so if—”

“You can say that, and he can say that, but we both know that’s not true—”

“We’re not—” She huffed. “But if we were—which we’re not—if it bothers you enough you and Emma won’t enjoy yourself, I can ask Jason to stay home tomorrow—”

“No.” Patrick picked up a chart. “No. You’re right. Robin would have gone back for anyone. It’s just Jason’s bad luck it was him.” He tipped his head. “A few years ago, you would have jumped at the chance to call this dating. What’s the deal?”

“The deal?” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Oh, you mean, the fact that his divorce was finalized a month ago? A divorce from Sam, the woman he forgave and married despite everything she did to me and the boys? Yeah. I can’t imagine why I don’t want to trust he’s really done with her.”

“People forgive the insane all the time, Elizabeth. Robin forgave me,” he told her simply. “And no one would ever say she wouldn’t have been right to drop me off the cliff.”

“Lisa Niles was a psycho—”

“Not when I—” Patrick pressed his lips together, irritated with himself. She knew he didn’t like remember the hurt he’d caused Robin by having a brief affair with the crazy doctor who’d tried to kill them both. Robin had been away, had been gone for a long time—but it didn’t make it right.

“Patrick—”

“I don’t like Jason, and you know you can do a lot better,” Patrick told her bluntly. “But—I also know he’s been around a lot, and you’ve been happier. I think—” He met her eyes. “I think we’ve both had a handful of bad years. We both know life is too short not to take chance when we can.”

“I liked you better when you hated Jason.”

“You only have yourself to blame,” Patrick called over his shoulder as he took his chart and walked away.

And then her pen rolled to the ground and Elizabeth threw up her hands.

Mondays.

——

The next afternoon, Patrick’s words continued to drift through her head as she and Jason walked towards the spot in the park where the third grade was having their fall picnic. She hadn’t really thought about it’d mean for Jason to be going with her to the picnic—to be attending as her friend when it was mostly families. Parents.

“You okay?” Jason asked. She glanced at him, then sighed as they crossed the gazebo and wound their way towards the lake. “You’ve been quiet since I picked you up.”

“Long day at work,” Elizabeth said finally. She smiled up at him. “One of the lab techs is easily spooked, and every time someone walks up behind him, he jumps in the air. He’s already done it to me twice this week. Today, he jumped, hit his head and I had to stitch him up.

“Weird.” He flashed a smile at him, then laced their fingers together as they turned a corner. “But it’s not boring.”

“Not it’s not that—” Elizabeth drew up short as they came across a cluster of benches and—just in front of them sat Sam McCall and John McBain, lost in a conversation.

Sam turned her head and saw them.

And Elizabeth didn’t want to look at Jason. Didn’t want to know what he was thinking.

“We’re going to be late,” Jason said after a moment when neither Sam nor John moved. He tugged on her hand and she finally looked at him. “Cameron’s waiting.”

“Right.” She smiled, then they walked away. But she knew why she couldn’t take Patrick’s advice.

She didn’t know how to believe in dreams anymore.

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