Monica walked into her living room and collapsed on the couch, closing her eyes. She had rounds in four hours and just wanted to sleep.

Tracy was being observed for a few days and then would be home. Monica would take a couple days off over Tracy's recovery if nothing else to keep the patient from driving out her house staff. She chuckled at the conversation she had with Dr. Monro. Rules don't apply to Quartermaines when it came to other Quartermaines. Monica suddenly recalled another conversation she had with Tracy.

"I didn't think you liked your brother at much."

"Monica, he's my brother. I've tortured him all my life. I don't like him. I love him."

Monica found herself torn between crying and laughing.

"Alan, it's not fair dying and leaving me your family."

"Aunt Monica? Do you know when Ned's coming home?" Dillon lingered in the doorway.

Monica took the opportunity to study her nephew. The time away with his brother had gotten rid of her nephew's baby face and Dillon gained a surprising thoughtfulness. The trait must've skipped from Lila to her grandson. Lord knew it wasn't in Alan or Tracy.

"I don't know when Ned is coming in. I've sent the ELQ jet for him."

"Oh. I guess I could call him. Aunt Monica?" Dillon bit his lip.

"Yes, honey?"

"Mom's not like going to die, right? Cause she's too mean to die. So she's not going to die..right?"

"Dillon, as much as an immoral Tracy Quartermaine scares me and all of Port Charles, I don't believe she is currently dying. Come over here, "Monica patted a spot next to her on the couch. She kissed the top of her nephew's head, after he sat down.

"You know I've been a cancer survivor for twenty-one years. We do exist. We aren't unicorns," Monica pulled out a necklace that she had been playing with on and off for a week. "Your uncle gave ,me this five years after my first clean scan. Five years is supposed to be the limit for a recurrence but they happen. But if you would count the pearls, it would add up to twenty-one."

Dillon ran his finger over the pearls.

"You didn't answered the question," he said, quietly.

"I don't know. I don't know a lot of things right now," Monica sighed.

"If Uncle Alan got you this, who gave you the pearls after he died?"

Monica chuckled.

"Well, at first it was Emily and then your grandfather, believe it or not. But now for some reason, your mother has taken over the tradition."

"I thought you and Mom hated each other," Dillon said.

"Mmmm...there are times I could kill her, but we've been family for over forty-five years," Monica smiled. "I think we're each other's longest relationship."

"I don't like Mom's doctor."

"I know. I'm micro managing the case. I invoked the Quartermaine rules."

"Ah, when a Quartermaine is involved, it becomes all other Quartermaines' business," Ned said, walking into the den.

"Ned!" Dillon jumped up. "You're home." Dillon's relief was visible.

"Hey, baby brother. Monica," Ned said, hugged his brother.

"Hello, Ned. I'm happy you're home. I'm going to shower and then go back to the hospital," Monica said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You needed to sleep and I kept you up," Dillon felt horrible.

"Don't worry about it. You needed an aunt and I was happy to obligated."

Dillon nodded and hugged Monica.

"Tracy's going to be fine. If they know what's good for them, tumors are going to be scared of her."

Dillon smiled as his aunt walked upstairs. The tumors had no chance.