Written in 62 minutes.

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Wednesday, September 10, 2024

 James M. Hanley Federal Building: Courtroom

After the judge had completed the hearing and vacated the bench, Diane flashed a smile at Reynolds. “It’s not too late to drop the charges. I’m sure my client will accept your apologies—”

Reynolds lifted his briefcase, returned her smirk with one of his own. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Miller. We’ve got four casings at the site. As soon as the weather conditions allow it, we’ll be back to searching the crime scene. We’ll find that fourth bullet, match it to the gun, and that’ll be all she wrote for your client.”

He sauntered out of the courtroom, and Diane turned to the contingent from Port Charles with a roll of her eyes. “Still can’t put it in her hand,” she muttered.

“Okay, so when can Mom come home? Do we go to the jail now?” Aiden wanted to know, leaning over his brother.

“I have to sign paperwork for her release,” Jason told them. He met Laura’s eyes, and she started forward. “I need you to go back to Port Charles with your grandmother—”

“But we can wait. I don’t care how long,” Aiden insisted.

“We’re talking hours, honey. Not one, not two, but maybe six or seven,” Laura said. “It’s okay. We’ll be waiting for her—”

“I can wait six hours,” Jake interrupted. “I want to—”

“Come over here for a second,” Jason said to his son, and Jake reluctantly followed him a few feet away. As they passed by on their way out, Carly gave Jason’s arm a squeeze, and a gesture to call her. He nodded, then focused on Jake.

“Dad, I don’t mind waiting—”

“I know. But it’s not just the time I’m thinking about.” Jason paused. “Everything has been awful since they arrested her. And I know you and Aiden have been through hell. Especially you with the FBI—”

“It’s fine—”

“But whatever we dealt with, we had each other. Your mom hasn’t had anyone,” Jason continued over Jake’s interruption, and the teen fell silent. “She’s been isolated and alone for days, with only visits from Diane. She’s going to need a minute, and I don’t know if she’ll let herself fall apart in front of you or your brother.”

Jake looked away, let out a huff, then tipped his head. “Yeah. Okay. I get that. Mom might try to put on an act or something. She does that. Okay. Okay.” He turned to Aiden. “New plan. We go home, we make sure the house is clean, you bake Mom’s favorite dessert and we get ribs from Eli’s.”

Aiden opened his mouth to protest, but Laura stepped in. “That’s a great idea. We’ll stop by the grocery store for anything you need. Jason, give me a call if anything changes.”

“I will.” Jason squeezed Jake’s shoulder. “The next time I see you guys, your mom will be with me.”

And then it would be time for everything that came next.

Franklin Street: Federal Parking Lot

“Wait—” Michael put up his hand before his mother opened the door to their car, and both Carly and Joss stopped to look at him. “I want to get this call in before we leave. Now that we’re not in danger of being overheard—”

“Call?” Carly echoed, but Michael already had the phone to his ear.

“Molly?”

“Hey. How did it go?”

“We’re all set. Jason’s on his way to do the paperwork and get her released. Won’t be for hours, but bail’s been granted.”

“Oh, fantastic. I’m so relieved. You ready for the next step?”

“It’ll be my next call,” Michael said. “Text me when you finish your meeting.” He ended the call, and started another.

“I hate not knowing stuff,” Joss grumbled.

Brook Lynn answered before the first ring finished. “How’d we do?”

“Bail granted. Did the lawyer finish the paperwork? Are we ready to file?”

“Last I checked. You want me to give him the green light?”

“Yeah, time to get this going.”

“On it.” Brook Lynn disconnected, and Michael turned to his mother and sister.

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to ruin your life,” Joss said, planting a fist against her hip, cocking it out to the side. “Start talking.”

“I’ll tell you everything once it’s in motion,” Michael said, opening the driver’s side door. “But Mom, you know better than anyone — a scheme only works if no one knows about it until it’s too late.”

Carly wrinkled her nose. “Brook Lynn and Molly get to know, but we don’t?”

“I learned a lot from you, Mom.” Michael slid into the car, started the engine. “Including everything not to do. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“You’re very annoying,” Joss grumbled, then got into the backseat. “But this better work.”

Davis House: Living Room

Alexis scratched out a case citation in her legal brief, then snatched up the phone the second it began to ring, Diane’s face flashing across the screen. “Did you win?”

“Yes,” Diane said, practically singing the response. “Jason is en route to complete the paperwork for release. And the judge was not impressed by the government’s case. I am ready to start slaying dragons.”

“Come by the house when you get back, and you can tell me everything.” Alexis hung up, and went into the kitchen where Kristina was unloading the dishwasher. “Finally, some good news. Elizabeth made bail.”

Kristina straightened, blinking. “What? Oh. That’s great. I’m so glad.”

“It’s such a relief, honestly. And it’s good news for us. Our motion to dismiss is front of the same judge with the same AUSA prosecuting. We’ll benefit from that — he wasn’t impressed with the case. It’s a terrible case,” Alexis added.

Kristina made a face. “What do you mean? I thought they found the gun in her car. That’s—that seems pretty solid. I mean, obviously someone’s setting her up,” she added when Alexis frowned. “But I thought that’s why everyone was so worried—because the case was good.”

“Bail for the murder of a federal agent is almost impossible,” Alexis explained. “But the case is really thin. They can’t match the gun to the bullets from the crime scene right now. The best they can do is ‘consistent with’. And Elizabeth has an alibi witness who also happens to be the 911 reporter and owner of the property, and her motive isn’t that strong. I’m not saying a jury wouldn’t convict on that, but Diane’s got a good chance at dismissal.”

“Oh.” Kristina hesitated. “That’s good. Is that the next step?”

“I think so. And getting Spinelli in to investigate the crime itself. Find some evidence that points at someone else.” Alexis’s phone beeped, and she looked down, tapped a few times. “Sam’s hoping to jump on, which I think will be good for her, and for Danny.”

“Sam and Spinelli are great. They’ll figure this out. Elizabeth couldn’t be in better hands,” she told her mother, who nodded then returned to the living room with her own work.

She’d already been happy to hear Spinelli was going to be investigating — but Sam would be even less likely to look at Kristina. The feds would spend all their time trying to pin this on Elizabeth, to get to Jason — just as she’d planned. And it was unlikely any security footage had picked her up—

As long as no one ever traced the gun back to her father, everything was going perfectly. Like it was meant to be.

Port Charles Municipal Building: District Attorney’s Suite

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Molly said, closing the door behind her, and striding towards the desk of Robert Scorpio, the district attorney.

“Well, I didn’t have much of a choice,” Robert said, getting to his feet. His words might have seemed harsh, but he had a glint in his eye. “I spent the weekend fielding calls from an angry daughter and granddaughter, insisting I do something to help Elizabeth. When you said you wanted to speak about the case, I was relieved. I hope you have some ideas I can reassure them with.”

“Well, I suppose that depends on your reaction to my idea.” Molly held out her memo, and Robert took it with one hand, sliding his reading glasses on with the other. He skimmed it, then looked at her.

“This…this is a serious step, Molly. If we do this, we’re setting a fire to a bridge we might very well need again in the future—”

“An innocent woman is prosecuted for a murder that she could not have committed. I’ve read the witness statements. They’re consistent in all the right ways to suggest they’re accurate. Furthermore—”

“Molly, you don’t have to sell me on this. The only reason I gave consent to jurisdiction is I’d hoped it would clear things up quickly. If I’d realized the FBI intended to harass those boys in their school—” Robert grimaced, then looked down at the memo. “Still—”

“I know it’s big. And I know it’s a risk. For the future of other cases where we need cooperation, for publicity, but I want to do good things in the world. I need to do right by the people who live in this town. Someone murdered that man while my nephew was within earshot. It wasn’t Elizabeth.”

“No, it certainly wasn’t.” Robert took a breath, then nodded, returned the memo. “This is the right thing to do. And if you’re prepared for what happens next, I’ll stand behind you. So will this office. And if you need the commissioner to agree, you let me know.” He arched a brow. “I can still work a little magic on my ex.”

Molly smiled. “I appreciate that. But I think I can handle Commissioner Devane. Thank you, Robert. You won’t regret this.”

“No, but you might. You’re about to go to war with the FBI, Molly. Revoking cooperation, restricting access to the evidence, opening your own investigation, cutting them off from the state labs, depriving them of office space and local PCPD resources—” Robert tipped his head, and grinned. “It’s precisely the kind of bold move I’d have done at your age. Good luck.”

Jamesville Correctional Facility: Lobby

The paperwork alone had taken hours — waiting for someone to come into the conference room, walking through every single piece of paper, repeating himself over and over and over again that he understood the risks, that he was prepared to guarantee the bail conditions—

Jason finally signed the final piece of paperwork and slid it across the desk. “That’s it, right? I can take her home now?”

“Ankle monitor still being attached. And she has to report to Pretrial Services within 48 hours of her release.” The clerk popped her bubble gum, almost seeming bored. “She’ll be out when she’s done.”

Jason grimaced, turned, catching the glimpse of the sun setting through one of the small windows. He’d wait as long it as it took—

But he just wanted to see her. The screen hadn’t been enough—she’d been on display for everyone, her features a mask with only hints of what might be going on underneath.

With his stack of paperwork in hand, he reluctantly went to sit on one of the plastic, uncomfortable chairs.

He didn’t know how long it was — only that he’d had enough time to grow restless, getting to his feet, pacing the small space, and then sit again—then repeat the process. She shouldn’t be here. She should never be locked behind doors and bars.

Had she felt this way when he’d been locked in Pentonville all those years ago? When she’d stolen Lucky’s badge to gain access in those days after Jake’s birth—he’d been so frustrated with her for taking reckless risks, and so pathetically grateful that she still deemed him worthy of the risk at all.

Finally, the door buzzed, and then it opened, a guard holding it for Elizabeth as she shuffled  towards him, dressed in jeans and a pink tank top, layed over with a thin cream-colored sweater — both top layers rumpled and creased — the clothing she’d likely been wearing the day they’d arrested her.

Her hair was tied back, pieces falling around her cheeks — but not in the styled way she might have done on her own, but clearly from a lack of styling tools. She was pale, and almost seemed to swim in her clothing—her lips cracked, dry, and peeling.

He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. Just the sight of her, her physical presence—the relief that flooded him was almost dizzying.

She stopped when she saw him, swallowing hard, then continuing to walk forward with the awkward shuffle—and he realized, painfully, that she’d grown accustomed to being shackled in just six days, and couldn’t quite move as naturally, fluidly, as she always did, always so light on her feet that she might have floated, flying from task to task, managing them all without breaking a sweat.

Jason came forward a few steps so that she wouldn’t have to walk all the way, and she just kept coming—straight into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist, her hands fisting against his shoulder blades, her cheek pressed against the white button-down shirt she’d worn to the hearing that morning. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and held her, breathing her in, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“I want to go home,” she said, her voice muffled. “Take me home. Before they change their minds.”

He kissed the top of her head, stepped back, his hand sliding down her arm until he could lace the fingers together. “Let’s get the hell out of here. The boys are waiting for you.”

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