Written in 60 minutes

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Oh. You’re…you’re Baby Boy Roberts’ father. No wonder I didn’t recognize you. I spend more time with your kid than you do.

His day had started in the shit and had gotten progressively worse as the hours had crawled towards midnight — and didn’t it figure that he’d finish the night in a rotten mood?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to check with Nurse Number 2 every damn time I visited,” Jason retorted. “Did I miss the sign in sheet?”

The nurse opened her mouth to respond, her expression positively thunderous, and then something strange happened—her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes. The irritation faded from her face, and she dragged her hands through hair, dislodging something that had it spilling in a mess around her shoulders.

“You’re right. You’re right. I’m an asshole, and that was a cheap shot. I’m sorry.” She pressed the heels of both hands against her eyes. “I’m having a terrible day. Week. Hell, month. And I hate everyone and everything. Nothing pisses me off more than a family who doesn’t visit the NICU, and you know, most of the time, I sort of get it, because God, it’s the most awful thing and so many of those babies don’t survive or they’re so sick—but it’s killing me with this kid because he’s stable. He’s got a treatable condition and he’s always alone—” She inhaled a deep breath, then released it, letting her hands fall to her sides and her eyes open. “But you’re right. I was out of line, and for all I know you’re there in the mornings when I’m not. I’m sorry,” she said again.

Jason’s anger slid away — and evolved into shame. He wasn’t there in the mornings. And it probably was a horrible, difficult job dealing with sick babies all the time. He took a step back, wanting a little physical distance between them. When he’d stopped her from getting in her car, he’d been right up against her, covering her hand on the handle — and with a little distance — and the knowledge she was the NICU nurse — he was unhappy with how he’d handled it. Even if she’d been a plant from Moreno’s men, he’d have screwed that up, too.

He held up both hands. “Yeah, I wasn’t exactly, uh—” Kind, he wanted to say, but didn’t. “And I do come to the hospital—”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me—”

“—but I know it’s one visitor at a time, and I don’t want to mess up Carly from seeing the baby—” he continued at the same time.

“Carly?” the nurse repeated. “Is that the mother?”

Jason stopped, frowned. “You’re the nurse, don’t you know that?”

“I—I don’t always know the family’s names. Especially when I don’t meet them.” She folded her arms, her teeth chattering slightly. It must be cold, he realized. He hadn’t snagged his jacket before leaving the bar, but he never felt the temperatures all that well. Or noticed them. Not until someone pointed out he must be freezing.

“You—” Jason hesitated. “Then she’s going in during the morning?”

“No—I—there’s been no one.” She tipped her head to the side. “The mother signed some treatment forms, and I think you did, too. But there’s no visitors. Why don’t you know that?”

Because he was ignoring the whole situation. It wasn’t supposed to be his problem. He’d agreed to play the role for Carly, but she was supposed to do all the work. Until she’d split, leaving him nothing more than a message on the answering machine.

I’m sorry. I can’t handle all of this right now. It’s too much. I’ll be back. Just—just please keep your promise. I’ll be back. I just need time.

But if he told this nurse that this wasn’t really his problem, she’d just get pissed again. And he really didn’t need her asking questions. Not when Carly had dumped this problem on him and split.

“I—a lot’s happened,” he said finally. “But the baby’s fine. You said so yourself. Stable.”

“Stable, but he hasn’t been responding to the medicine—the duct isn’t—” Elizabeth grimaced. “This isn’t my place to tell you or even my job especially when the doctor hasn’t—look, I’m freezing so if you want to talk about your son, I’m back on shift at 7AM—”

“And you’re out at midnight drinking?” Jason interrupted, and her mouth flatted to an angry line. “That’s none of my business—”

“No it’s not. But since it’s your kid I’m looking after, I’ll tell you I am completely sober. As you damn well know, I never got the damn beer I came for, and I just didn’t want to be at home alone on New Year’s because that would just finish off this fuckass year perfectly—” She broke off when they heard cheers and screams from inside the bar — and firecrackers set off somewhere in the neighborhood. She looked down at her watch, sighed. “And apparently, I’m going to be standing in a parking lot with some guy I don’t even know instead. Damn it. I should have just gone home.”

“I’m sorry?” Jason said, the words coming out more as a question than a statement, and her lips curved into a slight smile. “If you still want a beer, I can—” He tipped his head towards the bar. “I can get you one.”

“No, but thanks, I guess.” She sighed. “Look, could you not mention this to anyone? I mean, you obviously have every right to complain to my supervisor about this, but it’s honestly the last thing I need. Not that you should care about that—” She pressed her lips together. “Never mind.”

“I don’t care about it,” Jason said, and she closed her eyes, flinching. “I mean, I don’t care about any of this. What you said. If I had a problem with it, I’d tell you. I wouldn’t complain to your supervisor.” And he made a face at the thought, because what kind of coward took their complaints to someone’s boss.

“Well, then that makes you unique, because people love to tell Audrey Hardy her granddaughter is acting like an asshole—” She stopped, opened her car door. “Thanks, I guess. Sorry to interrupt your night.”

Jason stepped back even further so she could get into her car. “Wasn’t going much better than yours.”

“Well, Happy New Year, Baby Boy Roberts’ Dad.” She started to pull the door shut, and he stopped it, holding it at the top. “What?”

“Jason,” he said. “My name is Jason.” And it had been a long time since he’d had to introduce himself to anyone.

She smiled again, but this time it was a full, genuine curve that reached her eyes. “Well, Happy New Year’s, Jason. From Nurse Number Two, also known as Elizabeth. Hope it’s better than the last.”

He released the door. “Yeah, you too.”

“Couldn’t get worse,” was all he heard as she pulled the door shut finally. The engine roared to life and he moved out of the way so she could back out of the parking lot.

Wasn’t the worst way he’d ended a year, he thought. And then headed back into the bar.

—

Since the accident, he hadn’t needed much sleep and didn’t like to linger in bed once he’d awakened — not alone, anyway. Robin used to tell him that it was probably from all the time he’d spent in his coma — or being forced to lay in bed during rehab. His brain had hated it so much it had literally rewired itself not to need it.

Either way, Jason didn’t much question it. He was up with the sun around seven, and by nine, was in the living room of Sonny’s penthouse, lifting his second cup of black coffee to his mouth. His lawyer, Justus Ward, set his briefcase on the desk, and removed a file.

“You have more rights than I thought you might,” he told Jason. “In addition to her answering machine message, Carly left a note in the hospital room. I guess she wasn’t planning to call you.” Justus handed it over to him. “The hospital’s attorney faxed me a copy of it. It’s nothing new — other than asking you to look after the baby until she gets back.”

“And that’s enough?” Jason asked, skimming the short note. More apologies, but Justus was right — nothing new. He set the coffee cup on the mini bar. “Everyone just accepts I’m this kid’s dad because Carly said so?”

“Well, you haven’t denied it. And  you’re paying the hospital bills. They really like that part,” Justus added with a smirk. “But, yeah, essentially. Without anyone else stepping up — that’s where we are. The hospital will consult with you and you can make decisions — but you can’t sign treatment paperwork. You need official temporary guardianship. At least until Carly files a birth certificate with your name on it.”

Jason grimaced. She hadn’t done that or named her kid. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No. I mean, everyone keeps calling the kid BBR — Baby Boy Roberts — ” Justus added. “But it’s apparently not that uncommon.” He paused. “Jason, is there something I should know?”

Jason took a few steps back, leaned against the sofa, crumpling the letter into a ball. He could tell Justus the truth — at least partially. No point in making him feel guilty for keeping it a secret from AJ. But if Jason was going to keep his promise to Carly — and keep this kid out of the Quartermaine’s controlling clutches, Justus should probably know a little bit.

“Tony is not the baby’s father,” Jason said after a moment, then met his cousin’s gaze. “But neither am I. Carly doesn’t want to involve the biological father, and I’m honoring that choice. I promised to help her.” He frowned. “You don’t look surprised.”

“I’m not. But that’s because I know you. Most people think they do, but most people are also idiots.” Justus set the file he’d pulled out on the desk. “It still doesn’t matter. As long as no one challenges paternity with Carly out of the picture, you’ve got de facto custody. You need some legal paperwork to give you some more power. I put it together for you to sign, and I’ll file it today.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jason straightened, came towards the desk, then hesitated. “For this to work, I should probably look more involved right? I haven’t…I haven’t really seen the kid. Is that a problem?”

“It might be. Do you want the wrong people to ask questions? Tony believes you’re the father. If he changes his mind, demands a paternity test—” Justus lifted his brows. “That could complicate things. You’re sure it’s not his?”

“If I trust Carly, then yeah. And I do trust her on this,” Jason said when Justus made a sound. “Either way, I promised her I’d help her keep custody.”

“I’m not sure I understand any of this, but whatever.” Justus tapped the paperwork. “Sign it, and I’ll get started. We should get a hearing pretty quick with a newborn involved. And let’s hope Carly gets back sooner rather than later.”

—

He definitely wanted Carly back quickly, because if she was going to be gone — and Jason had to come to this hospital on a daily basis for a while, he was going to lose his mind.

He was admitted into the NICU, then taken to wash his hands, given a protective gown to wear over his clothes — and then taken down a hallway where a doctor was waiting outside the room.

“Baby Boy Roberts’ father?” the doctor asked, extending a hand. “I’m glad you came in today. I was hoping to talk to you and the mother—”

“The mother isn’t available,” Jason interrupted, and the doctor closed his mouth. “I’m all there is. I know there’s an issue because of the birth certificate, but I’m getting the court to get me whatever paperwork I need.”

“Good. Good.” The doctor hesitated. “We’ve been monitoring your son very closely since he was diagnosed with PDA—” When Jason looked mystified, the doctor squinted. “Were you not aware of that? I know we haven’t consulted yet—”

“I thought the baby was here because of Carly’s C-section—” Jason grimaced, dragged a hand down his face. “She didn’t tell me—no, what’s going on?”

“Ah, well, your son was diagnosed with patent arteriosus ductus—this is an artery that is supposed to close on its own after birth, but Nurse Webber observed symptoms that this wasn’t occurring very early. We were hoping that would give us a good chance of the medicine working, but unfortunately the duct isn’t closing on its own.”

Okay, that didn’t sound good at all. “What happens next?”

“The vessel is still open and the echocardiagram shows that it’s letting too much blood back into the  lungs.”

That sounded awful, and Jason swallowed hard, looked towards the room, through the open door and the plastic warmer. “Okay.”

“It’s hard for him to  breath, and its putting stress on his heart. We need to consider surgery—”

Jason turned his head back to the doctor, startled. “Heart surgery? He’s barely a week old.”

“Not open heart surgery. We’ll make a small incision on the baby’s chest, and close the ductus for him. It’s a thirty minute procedure, but it’s not without its risks. All surgeries have them. So if you’re getting paperwork from the court, then we need to get it done quickly.”

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