Written in 57 minutes.

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Monday, September 8, 2024

Webber House: Front Entrance

Jake trudged up to the front of the house, his backpack half hanging off his shoulder, avoiding the pair of neighbors on their front step, watching him. He ignored them, the way he’d been ignoring everything. The looks from teachers less sympathetic than Mrs. Maguire, the other students whispering, because hey, they knew who his dad was, and maybe he’d done something. Wasn’t his dad the killer? Didn’t he get arrested for killing Jake’s stepdad? Maybe his mother had been threatened to stay quiet and take the rap—

He’d heard it all, trying to discard each piece as the bullshit he knew it was. His dad hadn’t killed Franco. And if he’d killed someone else, well, Jake didn’t know that for sure. And his dad would never threaten his mother—

But would he keep quiet? Would he keep a secret, counting on Diane to bring Elizabeth home on a technicality?

Jake shoved the front door open, then stopped dead when he saw his father and Diane in the middle of the room, in the middle of a conversation. They both turned at his entrance. Just standing in his mother’s living room, doing nothing. Just like they’d done since Friday. No one had done anything to stop his mother from being dragged away, their house ripped apart—

“Why aren’t you doing something to stop this?” Jake demanded, and Jason closed his mouth, the greeting cut abruptly. “Make them stop lying!” He dropped his bag on the ground. “Why aren’t you making it stop?”

“Jake—” Jason stepped towards him, but Jake just shook his head, slammed the door and stalked past his father. “I know this is difficult—”

“Difficult for who? You?” Jake whirled on him, at the absolute limit. “Nothing’s changed about your life, except you’re sleeping in Cameron’s room. My mother is in jail. Okay? Everyone’s calling her a murderer, and they’re talking to my teachers and my friends, and I can handle it, right? I can handle it,” Jake repeated, “but Danny can’t. Aiden shouldn’t. And you’re not doing anything to stop it!”

“The FBI is at the school?” Diane’s lips settled in an unhappy line. “That’s crossing lines. I’ll make some calls—”

“I don’t care about any of that! Make a call and get Mom out.” He glared at his father. “Tell them whatever they want to know and make them bring her home.”

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Kristina took a seat at one of the tables, reaching for a menu though she had it memorized by now, and used the time to consider how things were unfolding.

She knew she’d made the right choice in forcing the cops to search Elizabeth’s car, even though it had been risky to leave that tip — they’d been circling around the other suspects, and if they decided to ask her apartment complex for the security footage, her alibi would fall apart. She needed to delay that as long as possible — at least thirty days.

And the gun wouldn’t trace back to her — her father would never mention it being missing, even if he even knew. He had several guns, after all, and this one wasn’t registered. None of the ones in the safe ever were.

No, she’d really thought of everything except the small chance that Elizabeth would connect Kristina’s visit to losing her key fob. That was probably the trickiest part, Kristina thought, and she’d need to have a story ready if it came up.

She heard the door jingle behind her and glanced up absently, then frowned when Molly kept walking past her. “Really? You’re not even going to acknowledge my existence?”

Molly stopped, swinging back to face her, the paper bag dangling from her hand. “It seemed easier than arguing with you.”

“Why do you think we’d argue?” Kristina laid the menu aside. Adopting a softer tone, she continued, “I know I haven’t…handled anything that’s happened well. I just…I wish you’d give me a break. That we could find a way to grieve this together.”

“I wish we could.” Molly’s facade slipped slightly and she swallowed hard. “But you’ll either talk around saying her name or you’ll call her Adela and we’ll be right where we started.”

“I understand that’s a sticking point,” Kristina said carefully. “I just wish you’d talked to me before you’d named her on the paperwork. We could have had a conversation, made a compromise—”

“No, no! That is—” Molly jabbed a finger at her, her grip on the paper bag with the other hand tightening, the bag crinkling in protest. “There is no compromise. Irene was my daughter. Mine and TJ’s, and it was our right to give her the name of someone important to TJ. Not you. You can’t name her for the grandmother you never even knew. Where do you get the audacity to look at me after I found those custody papers, after—” She broke off, took a deep breath. “And this is why we can’t be in the same room. Not right now.”

“Where do I get the audacity? Maybe because it was my egg that created her. That I carried her, nurtured her for eight months,” Kristina bit out. “You were her mother on paper, sure. But where it mattered, in the blood—Adela was my daughter.”

Molly stared at her, her throat working hard, tears shimmering. “You begged me to be the surrogate. Begged me to let you help give us our family. TJ didn’t want it, he argued about it. He knew it was a terrible idea, and he was right. Because you’re too selfish to do something so generous. You wanted to be the center of attention. To make yourself the star. You threw yourself in your dad’s custody battle, confronting Ava—” She curled her fist against her heart. “I’m only sorry Mom will win her motion, and that once again, someone will rescue from the consequences of your own action. Because I think you’re lying. I don’t think Ava laid a hand on you.”

Kristina got to her feet, her nostrils flaring in outrage. “She pushed me!”

“That’s not what those pictures show. You went there to confront her. You were aggressive, probably rude, and whatever happened after that is your fault. You killed my daughter. Everything that happens because of it, Kristina, is on you. You are your own worst enemy, and you make everyone around you worse for it. I am done enabling you. Go to hell, and rot there.”

Port Charles Park

Danny slouched against the picnic table, his back to the table, resting on his elbows. “You know if our parents catch us, we’ll get our asses kicked.”

Rocco snorted, then passed him the vape pen. “You’re the only one who’s been caught.” He drew in a long drag, then passed it back to Danny. “Finish it off and then we’ll go. We need to be home and change before my dad gets home or he’ll smell it.”

When they’d finished, they stowed the pen in its safe spot — the inner pocket of Rocco’s backpack which Dante never touched because, as Rocco said with a snort, his dad trusted him. And why not? He never did anything wrong.

“The perfect son,” Rocco reminded him with a smirk as they left the clearing and came out onto the path. “If you hadn’t gotten nailed for curfew so much last year, we’d have more freedom. Like Frankie’s party this weekend. We’re never gonna be able to go with the way your mom’s cracked down on you.”

“We just have to figure out—” Danny came to a stop on the path as it emerged into the parking lot. A pair of suits were leaning against the SUV, talking to the guy who’d come to the Quartermaines the day of the murder, who’d dragged them to the station. Who’d questioned Danny on Saturday.

“Ah, shit, I thought they were supposed to stay away from us,” Rocco muttered. “Don’t do anything dumb that gets us searched—” He sighed when Danny stalked over to the SUV. “Like that. Oh, man, we’re so dead.”

“What you are doing here?” Danny demanded, fisting his hands at his sides. “Are you following me?”

Caldwell arched a brow. “Do you have something to hide?” He sniffed, looked at his fellow agents. “Do you smell that?”

“Sir?”

Danny’s cheeks heated. “I want you to leave me alone! I told you what happened!”

“I understand,” Caldwell said, his tone remaining calm. “You’d do anything to protect your dad after all that time you lost. You might even be telling the truth.”

“Man, come on—” Rocco came up, tugged on Danny’s sleeve. “Let’s just go.”

“No, no!” Danny yanked away from his stepbrother, incensed. “I am telling the truth! My dad was in the house! We’re not lying! So leave me and Jake alone! Stop following us, stop asking questions, just stop!”

“Maybe your father was in the house,” Caldwell continued, ignoring Danny’s outburst. “Maybe he planned it that way.”

Danny went still. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Well, Agent Cates was making life difficult for a lot of people in your life. He arrested your aunt Kristina, did you know that?”

“I—”

“And he was the man your father reported to at the FBI when he was working as an informant.”

Danny closed his mouth, uncertain now at the direction of the conversation. “W-What?”

“Dude, what is going on?” Rocco demanded. “Your dad was a snitch? Holy shit!”

“You don’t think it’s a little bit of a coincidence that your father came out of the house just after the gunshots?” Caldwell pressed, sensing his advantage. “Almost as if he was waiting so he’d be seen.”

“Even if that were true, he’d never let Aunt Liz go down like this,” Rocco said. He tugged Danny’s shirt again. “Dude. We need to go.”

“Well, maybe Aunt Liz isn’t in any real danger. After all, Miss Miller seems very confident she’ll get released on bail. Perhaps your dad knows that, too. Maybe he doesn’t mind putting people in uncomfortable positions to save himself.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Shut up. Stay away from me and my brother. We’re telling the truth a-and that’s just it.” He stalked in the opposite direction, and Rocco jogged after him.

“Dude, don’t let it get to you,” Rocco said, when he caught up to Danny near their bus stop.
“You know your dad would never use you like that—”

“He did, though.” Danny looked at Rocco, miserable. “When he got shot last spring. He told me to keep it secret. From everyone. Even my mom. No one could know. Mom was so mad about it. She said I could—I could have gone to jail, too. For hiding him.”

“Oh—” Rocco hesitated, thrown. “Okay, but like, that was different, right? Wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” Danny stared hard at the walls of the bus stop. “I didn’t think about it being against the law. I just—he’s my dad, and I thought he was dead, but then he wasn’t. And that’s all I cared about.”

“Right. Your dad would never use you and Jake as alibis, so that someone else could get that guy. It’s just not true.”

“Right.” Danny exhaled slowly. “There’s our bus. I wanna go home.”

Webber House: Living Room

Tell them whatever they want to know—

Jason took a deep breath. “What is it that you think I know that could bring your mother home sooner?”

“Maybe I should go,” Diane began, edging towards the door but Jake darted in front of her, blocking her exit.

“No, no, you should hear this, okay? You should her about the secret meetings Dad’s having with Sonny—” and now Jake turned his fury back on his father. “About how if me and Danny just stick to the story, you’re in the clear. Okay, so why do you need me to stick to the story? What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything,” Jason said, holding up a hand, palm facing out. “I don’t—” he repeated when Jake just scoffed. “Jake, do you think I’d let your mother sit in jail if I could get her out—”

“If you thought Diane would get her out for sure, maybe—” Jake lifted his chin, even as his lips trembled, his face red, angry tears in his eyes. “You let me think you were dead, didn’t you? For years and years, I thought you were dead, so maybe you’d let Mom sit in jail for a few days.”

He had no defense for that, nothing to say that could rebut that statement, and the weight of his choices only seemed to get heavier. “I know I’ve lost your trust because of what I did, and that I have to work to get it back—”

“Then tell them what they want!” Jake cried. He dropped his bag on the floor with a thud. “Tell  them! What does Sonny know? Why aren’t you making them let Mom go?” His voice broke. “I want her to come home. Make them l-let her go—I just want it to be over—make her c-come—” He crumpled, his shoulders shaking, and Jason took the chance, gave into impulse, pulled Jake into his arms, as his son started to cry in earnest, just repeating it over and over. Make her come home.

 He held Jake, his son that was now taller than him, stroking his hair the way he might have if he’d had the chance to hold as a child, reassuring him after a nightmare.

Diane stood behind them, her own eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her hand fisted at her mouth.

When Jake started to pull away, when he was just shuddering, and his face was flushed with embarrassment, Jason kept a hand on his shoulder so that Jake couldn’t flee.

“I need you to look at me, okay? Look at me, Jake.” When his son finally met his gaze, the mixture of misery, anger, and embarrassment radiating back, Jason took a deep breath. “If I knew something that could bring her home today, I would tell anyone who wanted to know—”

Jake started to shake his head, pull away, but Jason kept his grip tight to lock his son in place. “No. We can talk about Sonny’s visit. I’ve got nothing to hide. Nothing,” he repeated, when Jake heaved a shaky breath. “There is nothing I want more than to bring your mother home. Nothing. She has no business being locked up, taken away from you and the boys, and if I could, I’d trade places with her to get her out. I’m the criminal, not her. But I didn’t do this. I don’t know who did.”

“You—” Jake dragged a hand over his eyes. “You really don’t know?”

“I promise you, if I did, I’d give them up without hesitation. Even if it were Sonny,” Jason added. “I don’t know who did this,” he repeated. “But when I find out who did this to you, to your mother, to all of us, they’re going to wish they’d never been born.”

“I’m—” Jake struggled to take in a normal breath. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize. Don’t.” Jason hugged him again, relieved when his son hugged him back. “We’re going to bring her home, Jake. I promise you.” He made eye contact with Diane as  he continued to speak. “Whatever I have to do to make sure she’s free, I’ll do it. Whatever it costs.”

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