Drew slid his key into the lock and paused outside the door. The penthouse had been had been his home with Sam and their children for the last two years. Whenever he felt lost or overwhelmed this was where he'd found himself. Now each time he crossed the threshold he felt like he was trespassing. From the first time he'd stepped into the apartment he'd felt a sense of connection and ownership, but those feelings were a product of Jason's memories. Nothing more. The penthouse wasn't his home. Apparently, he'd never had one as Andrew Cain; the orphan turned military nomad.
He sighed and turned the key, forcing a smile as he opened the door.
His grin faltered. His brows knit.
Sam was standing in the corner of the living room, plucking ornaments from the tree they'd meticulously decorated weeks before. There was no warm greeting or dazzling smile that he'd come to count on at the end of the day. She didn't seem to notice he was even there as she muttered and mumbled to herself.
"Hey," he slipped his jacket off and tossed it on the back of the couch.
"What's going on here?"
She dug her fingers into her hair, a few strands falling loose from the messy pile they'd been pulled into.
"It didn't look right," she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear before ripping another ornament from the tree. Then another, and another.
He took another step toward her.
"Well, I'm sure we can fix it," he reached out to stroke her back but she pulled away.
Her head jerked frantically from side to side.
"No, no, it's all wrong," she protested, ready to attack the tree once more.
Gently, he grabbed her wrist to stop her from dismantling the tree.
"Sam, stop." But he soon realized his pleas were falling on deaf ears.
Drew stepped up, wrapping his arms around her, but that only seemed to agitate her more. His grip tightened around her as she struggled in his arms. For some reason he thought of a bottle rocket falling to the ground just before launch, as he held her tightly and waited for her to burn through the frantic energy. After several minutes that felt like an eternity, she began to lose steam.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, planting a kiss on his arm.
He returned the gesture by kissing the top of her head.
"I know," he soothed, closing his eyes and resting his chin against her. "I know you are sweetheart."
She buried her face in his arm, ashamed of the scene she'd made.
"I don't know what just happened," he murmured gently.
Sam had been the strong one throughout the entire "two Jason's" ordeal. She was the one holding him up while he stumbled through the days of confusion and loss. Not once had she hesitated when he'd offered to let her go. Not once had she shown any sign of weakness or confliction where his supposed twin was concerned.
As she crumbled in his arms he couldn't help but wonder what had changed.
"Something's wrong, and I want to help," he swallowed the lump in his throat. "But I need you to talk to me."
He twisted her position until they were standing face to face. His azure orbs burned into hers with unspoken questions and unconditional love as he stroked her hair and face, waiting for her to say something, anything.
"I don't want to hurt you." Her voice was weak and timid, not at all like the woman he'd fallen in love with. "But I don't want to lie to you either."
Drew felt every muscle in his being tense. He'd been anticipating this conversation since the day the DNA results came out, and simultaneously dreading it.
"I saw Jason today…down on the docks," she paused, watching for a reaction.
The mention of Jason had always grated his nerves, but even more so since he'd learned his true identity. Each time he heard the name, his fight or flight was triggered, and Drew wasn't about to run from him or Port Charles. Not when he had something worth fighting for.
"What were you doing there?"
Instinctively, he squeezed her hand tighter, as if afraid to let go.
Sam shrugged awkwardly.
"I don't know…," She thought it best not to mention her claustrophobia in the office or her cosmic pull toward Jason.
"I was just clearing my head, and I ran into him."
Drew's head cocked sideways, his tone growing accusatory.
"Did he say something to you? Did he upset you?
She pulled back slightly.
"What? No, of course not. Jason would never."
Sometimes it surprised her, how even with all his memories, he could misjudge his twin so harshly.
"Anyway, I got home and you weren't here. Monica called and asked to take Danny last minute Christmas shopping. Apparently, he wanted to get us something and didn't want us to be there when he did."
The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk at the thought of his son's generosity, but fell quickly as he once again reminded himself that Danny and Jake weren't his children. They were Jason's.
"What happened here tonight Sam?"
She raised her hand up in the air, then lowered it, unsure how to proceed, to explain.
"I'd just put Scout to bed. I came down the stairs and the tree caught my eye, and I don't know, I just couldn't look at it like that. I-" she closed her eyes, knowing her explanation wasn't coming out right. So, she decided to start again.
Lifting herself from the couch, she took a few steps toward the tree. Her eyes falling to the ornaments she'd stripped from it.
"The night Scout was born…I was so scared we wouldn't make it. I was trying to call for you but you couldn't hear me. I was so cold and she was coming so fast…" she rubbed the sides of her crossed arms, as if the memory itself made her shiver. "I thought we might die under that bridge."
Finally, she turned back to meet his tortured gaze, and she knew he'd had the same fears. For good reason.
"Do you remember what you said to me that night?"
She didn't wait for an answer.
"You called me your phoenix. You said that I always rose above, that I gave you the strength to do the same. You gave me the strength to push through the pain and exhaustion and together we brought her into this world. I think about that whenever I see this."
Sam lifted the phoenix ornament up to be seen, hoping he would understand what she was trying to say.
"But it's also a symbol of my life with Jason. The dragon and the phoenix…double happiness."
His traitorous mind played through the memory of their wedding, and the vows they'd spoken that night. He still felt as though he were the one standing across from her, watching it play out in his head, but he knew the truth, and it haunted him.
He rose from the couch and brushed the silent tears that had trickled down her cheeks.
"The memories we made together, me not being him, doesn't make them any less real. Those things happened Sam, and we got through them together. Everything I said as Jason, I still mean as me."
She nodded, her chin trembling.
"I know, I did too!"
She placed her hands over his chest and leaned her forehead against his.
"It's just…Jason and I gave them to each other…it feels wrong using them for our tree, knowing that.
He cupped the back of her head in his hands, staring into those soft, chocolate eyes that he adored. She'd once told him to look into her eyes and he'd find the truth there. He had that night, but over the last two years he'd found such more.
"It's okay, I get it. I have symbols I struggle with too."
His hands slipped from her head and down her arms, taking her hands in his.
"How would you feel about moving?"
Sam was stunned. Of course, it made sense to move, but for some reason the thought had never occurred to her.
Drew peered down at their connected hands. At the rings on their fingers that now meant nothing because their marriage wasn't legal. Every document he'd ever signed as Jason Morgan was now null and void; their marriage license, their divorce agreement, Scout's birth certificate…
"This place has been good to us, you know, we've had some good times, made some great memories," he sighed, lifting to meet her gaze. "But at the end of the day, it's not ours. It's his…and I just don't think I can live here anymore."
She nodded, slipping instantly into the role of dutiful wife eager to reassure him. A pang of guilt flooding her veins as she took his face in her hands, the same way she'd fought doing with Jason just hours before. Drew hadn't asked for this either. And while one brother was coming home to everything he had lost…well, almost everything, the other felt everything he knew slowly falling away with only her to ground him.
"You don't have to," she promised, pushing down her own feelings about the apartment. "We'll find a place of our own. Somewhere that's just ours."
She ghosted her lips over his, sealing her vow with a kiss. He returned the kiss, whispering his thanks for her understanding.
"How about I go upstairs and get that big box of ornaments? We can redecorate the tree."
Her gaze shifted over to the mess she had made during her meltdown.
"I did kind of mangle it, huh?"
Drew chuckled and held up his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart.
"Maybe just a little, but it's nothing we can't handle together."
He planted a quick peck on her lips and headed up the staircase.
Sam glanced around the apartment, a heavy feeling in her chest.
The penthouse had been her first true home, and for that reason it was a part of her. She'd prepared for her daughter Lila in those walls, fallen in love for the first time, and had it returned. It was Danny's first home, and Scout's. Leaving would be hard. It always had been. But she couldn't expect Drew to live in the shadow of those memories for the rest of his life. That wasn't fair to him.
It wasn't fair to Jason either.
The penthouse was his home long before it was hers, and he might want it back. She didn't know where he was staying currently, probably with Sonny and Carly, but eventually he would want his own space back. She, at least, owed him that much.
Drew returned with the ornaments, eager to repair the tree.
She forced a smile and removed some red and silver balls from the box, knowing this would be one of her last memories in the penthouse. Soon she would be nothing more than a visitor at the door, picking up and dropping off Danny when he visited his father.
Her lips curled into a genuine smile. At least Danny would have many more memories there. The penthouse would always be home for him.