Chapter XX: What Are Friends For?

"So, you and Ridge have found your way back to one another?" James Warwick asked curiously.

It was late afternoon and he had stopped by Taylor's beach house to say hello on his way home. She had invited him in for a cup of tea and a chat, obviously dying to talk to someone about the recent events in her personal life.

"I wouldn't say that", Taylor answered hesitatingly. "I wouldn't want to jinx it. But he did kiss me. And there is something different with him. If I didn't know better, I'd say he has finally broken free of Brooke's spell."

"Spell?" James asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is that your professional opinion?"

"I try to keep my work and my personal life separate", she said, smiling. "Not that I'm always so good at that."

"I know what you mean", James said gravely. "And I do think it is not a thing to be taken lightly."

"Of course, I forgot", Taylor said guiltily. "You lost your medical license because of… because of your involvement with Sheila Carter."

"Yes, I did", James said. "It took many years before I got my license back, and even longer before my professional reputation was restored."

"I never did understand that", Taylor mused. "I have always known you to be such a brilliant psychiatrist. How could you allow yourself to be taken in by someone like Sheila? I mean, you knew her history. You had correctly diagnosed her as a psychopath, and you knew she was a threat to herself and others. Even so…"

"Indeed", James said, shaking his head. "I have often wondered the same. Sheila was not capable of empathy, she lacked the boundaries that most of us have, she was violent, ruthless and dangerous. But even so, after months of intense therapy, I thought I could see a different side of her. A side of her that was trying to be a better person, that was struggling to suppress those destructive urges and learn how to do the right thing. She had it in her - I saw it sometimes when we were together. And I saw it when she was with Mary. Sheila tried very hard to be a good mother. She was very protective and loved our daughter very much, maybe a little too fiercely. Her attachment to Mary was always a little unhealthy, but very sincere."

"It nearly cost me my life", Taylor reminded him. "Her warped desire to give Mary a good life robbed three children of their mother for many years."

"I know", James said sadly. "And it has been a lot for Mary to work through over the years. Thank God she is such an intelligent and level-headed young woman that she managed to process those experiences and turn them into a desire to help others."

"It's like I always said", Taylor remarked, "she takes after her father. She is lucky."

"No", James said, "I am the fortunate one."

"Our children are truly the greatest blessing in our lives, aren't they?" Taylor said. "Every day I thank God for Thomas and Steffy. I just wish…"

"Your daughter Phoebe", James said sympathetically. "I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for you to lose her."

"I hope you never have to know, James", Taylor answered. "I thought I would never be able to go on and be happy again. I thought the grief would drive me mad. No parent should even have to know what that is like."

"I'm sorry, Taylor", James said. "I shouldn't have brought this up now. You just wanted to share a positive experience that you had with Ridge, and I…"

Taylor put a reassuring hand on James' arm.

"You did nothing", she said. "Phoebe is always with me, whether I talk about her or not. And I know it's the same for Ridge. I think that's one of the reasons why he understands me, probably better than anyone."

"Then I take it you are hoping for another chance for the two of you, after all?" James asked.

"We'll see", Taylor said noncommittally, "if it's meant to be, it's meant to be."

"What about Thorne?" James asked curiously. "I know you two broke it off…"

"That was not meant to be", Taylor said. "We both realized that, at last. You were right all along."

"I don't recall telling you…" James objected.

"You didn't have to", Taylor said. "I know you. And anyway, I think it was all for the best. This way, both Thorne and I had a chance to figure out what we really want in life."

"Hi, Dad!"

Thorne looked around as he closed the front door. He hadn't expected Alexandria to be home from Hannah's already. But there she was, curled up in the couch, eating ice cream and reading a book.

"Hi, honey!" he said, then added jokingly: "How was your play date?"

"Fine, how was yours?" Alexandria retorted.

For a second, Thorne didn't know what to answer.

"Come on, Dad", his daughter continued, "You've been to see Macy, right?"

"How did you know that?" Thorne said, feeling a little embarrassed for no reason.

"The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior", Alexandria replied in her best Dr Phil voice. "You've been there every day so far."

"Okay", Thorne admitted with a smile. "You're right as usual. I did stop by the hospital."

"And how is your girlfriend doing?"

"Better", Thorne replied. "And she is not…"

"Right, whatever", Alexandria said. "She is your long lost friend slash ex-wife."

"Exactly", Thorne said, trying to sound convincing. "But, Ally, there is something I would like to discuss with you…"

"What?" Alexandria said, a little worried.

"Well", Thorne began, not knowing if he should even be mentioning this idea of his, "they will be releasing Macy from the hospital soon, and it's going to be tough for her. Her family is out of town, she has no memory of her past, she has just stopped drinking and then of course there's the baby…"

"Dad, where are you going with this?" Alexandria asked, suspiciously.

"I was just thinking…" Thorne said, hesitantly,"how would you feel if we offered Macy and the baby to stay here with us for a little while? Just until she gets back on her feet."

"I don't even know her!" Alexandria objected. "I only met her once, and then she went all weird and passed out."

"I know", Thorne replied. "That is why I wanted to talk to you first, Ally. I haven't mentioned this idea to Macy yet. It's your call. If you're not comfortable with it, we'll just forget about it, okay?"

"I'm not sure…" Alexandria said.

"I was also thinking it might be a good idea for you two to get to know each other. After all, she was your mother's closest friend and probably one of the people who knew Darla best."

"But she doesn't remember that, right?" Alexandria pointed out.

"No", Thorne answered. "At least, not now."

"Do you think it would help her get her memory back if she sees things that could remind her of her past? Or if you tell her about things that happened?"

"Maybe", Thorne said doubtfully. "I guess nobody knows for sure how it's going to turn out…"

Alexandria sat silently for a while, finishing what was left of her ice cream. Would it really be so bad, she thought, having Macy stay there for a few days? But what if it wasn't just for a few days? "Until she gets back on her feet", her father had said. That could mean anything. And suppose once she got used to staying with them, she wouldn't want to leave again? What if she would make Thorne "behave" and turn him into a different person, just like he had been when he was with Taylor? At least she couldn't be worse than Taylor… or could she?

"What's she like?" Alexandria suddenly asked. "Macy, I mean. Since she was friends with Mom, does that mean they were anything alike?"

"Yes and no", Thorne said thoughtfully. "They were both very kind and loving people. But I would say Darla was more carefree than Macy. Goofier, if you know what I mean, her head filled with all these crazy ideas. Macy was always more serious, more levelheaded and subdued. Then again, she almost had to be, with a mother like Sally Spectra. You remember her, right?"

"Grandma Sally?" Alexandria said, laughing. "How could I ever forget her? That hair! She is awesome!"

"She certainly is", Thorne agreed. "That lady is one of a kind. Just imagine, going on a world cruise, at her age!"

"Shouldn't we try to find her, though?" Alexandria said, struck by a sudden thought. "I mean, with everything that's happened… And everyone else probably wants to know too."

"You're right", Thorne said. "I've tried to reach her, but I guess she's off somewhere really remote. And I haven't managed to get hold of CJ either. As for the rest of our family, well, they'll need to find out what's going on of course, I just didn't want to spread the news until I'd spoken to Macy and made sure she was okay with it. I mean, maybe she'd rather explain this to everyone herself."

"Yeah…" Alexandria mused. "Dad, why do these strange things always happen in our family?"

"What things?"

"You know, people showing up alive even though everyone thought they died. Didn't you say this happened once before with Macy? Everyone thought she was dead when she was really living in Italy with her Dad, hiding from the mob, right?"

"Yes, that's right", Thorne confirmed. "And it also happened with Taylor, twice. Both times she was supposedly dead but in fact she was living with a Moroccan prince who saved her life. How about that?"

"That's crazy!" Alexandria said, laughing. Then, quickly turning serious, she added:

"Sometimes I just wonder if…"

"What, honey?" Thorne asked.

"If everyone could be wrong about Taylor and Macy, why couldn't they have been wrong about Mom?" she said quietly.

Thorne looked at his daughter. She was earnest, sad. There were tears of disappointment in her eyes. He pulled her close and hugged her as she started crying. Thorne realized that with Macy's reappearance, the wound that Alexandria had been carrying inside her ever since Darla's death had been torn open again. The impossible had happened. Death itself had been proven not to be definitive, but a mere false assumption in this case. For years, Alexandria had been secretly praying for a miracle like this. But it had happened to the wrong person.

"Why isn't it Mom?" the girl sobbed. "I don't want Mom to be dead anymore!"

Thorne only held her, without speaking. There was nothing else he could do.

Macy woke up with a scream and sat up in her bed. Gasping for air, she found that the sheets were soaked with sweat and that the moon was shining in through the window in the hospital room, filling it with an eerie bluish light. She had been having a nightmare, but now, she couldn't remember what it had been about. The only things left of it were her pounding heart and an unspecific feeling of dread she couldn't shake.

She was alone. Thank God - when she first opened her eyes she had had a feeling that someone or something had been in the room with her, a malevolent being. Luigi? Was he looking for her? Maybe he had already found her and was waiting in the dark to make his move… No, there was nobody there, she told herself. Nobody. Just down the corridor, the nurses were working night shift. All she had to do was call for them and they would come and tell her so, too. Then they would give her something to make her sleep, like they had the night before, and they would go away, leaving her alone again, as if nothing was wrong.

But her fears were real. She knew where she had been, and what she had seen. The man who didn't hesitate to sacrifice a child's life in order to keep his business running smoothly would certainly not have any mercy on her. Not after she had run away. And even less if she went to the police with what she knew. They had been there to see her today, asking questions she couldn't or wouldn't answer. About where she had come from, and whose the baby was. She had tried to explain to them as well as she could that Noah's mother had been an orphan who had died giving birth to him, and that she had asked Macy to look after him. Should she have given them Diana's full name? Maybe, but then they would have ended up in the right town, searching for the girl's body, and Luigi would know for sure who had provided them with that information. He might leave her alone if she just stayed quiet, but never if she turned informant.

Besides, now it wasn't just about her and Noah anymore. There were other people involved, people who knew who she was and where she was. That information could be dangerous for them, too. Dr Meade. Dayzee, the young woman whom she vaguely remembered from the coffeehouse and who had been looking after the baby during Macy's hospital stay. And Thorne. Dear God, Thorne. The man who had been by her side every day, even before she was aware of his presence, holding her hand and speaking reassuringly to her. Most of all, she was afraid for him.

But what could she do, in her current condition? She needed to stay put for the time being, since she couldn't manage on her own - she had finally realized that now. Dr Meade had told it to her straight, in no uncertain terms. Alcoholism. If she had continued drinking, the alcohol would have ended up killing her. And when she had stopped abruptly on her own after Noah's birth, the withdrawal could have killed her as well.

The doctor had gone over her test results with her, talked to her about treatments, going to AA, counseling… Her heavy drinking over the past few years had been harmful to her liver, but the damage was not yet irreversible, thankfully. However, Dr Meade had warned her - she had to give it up immediately, if she wanted to stay alive. Her body couldn't take it any longer. At first, Macy hadn't wanted to believe him. She wouldn't take in that it could be as bad as all that - after all, she had been going on like this for years and still managed to function, more or less. But he had been adamant, insisting that those were the facts. Finally, she had had to reluctantly accept his medical expertise.

So why did it feel like the only thing that would make her feel better right now was a drink? Just one, to take the edge off this anxiety, this constant fear. It was what she needed, her whole body and mind were screaming for it. Could they really be deceiving her? Did Dr Meade really know what he was talking about? If alcohol was poison to her, why did she feel so bad without it? Why did she have this urge? Did it even matter? She had to have that one drink, if it was the last thing she ever did! Looking around, Macy weighed her options. Where could she find alcohol at 2:30 in the morning, in the hospital?

Suddenly, her eyes landed on a sink by the wall, just a few feet away. The doctors used it to wash their hands when they entered. Running water, soap… and a bottle of hand sanitizer. Eagerly, Macy crawled out of bed. When she tried to stand up for the first time since her collapse, she noticed that she was weaker than she had expected, and sat down on the bed for a while to gather her strength and wait for the dizziness to subside. The she made another attempt. Leaning on her IV stand, she made her way to the sink. She picked up the hand sanitizer and tried to read the label in the moonlight.

Ethanol. This was alcohol. 62%. More than vodka.

She squirted some of the clear gel into the palm of her hand. It even smelled like alcohol. She wondered what it would taste like - probably not too good. But she had had her fair share of bad booze at Luigi's.

Then, momentarily, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the sink. There she was, Macy Alexander, standing in a room at Cedars in the middle of the night, wearing an ugly hospital gown, hooked up to a bunch of IVs, her eyes frantic and her face a sickly white, ready to devour a bottle of hand sanitizer.

With a cry of disgust, she threw the bottle away and wiped her hand clean on a paper towel. This was not her! That person in the mirror, that pathetic, desperate creature, couldn't be her!

But it was.

When the realization hit her, she sank to the floor and just sat there, crying, for a long time. She had seen it now - what Dr Meade had seen, what Pearl had seen, what everybody must have seen all along. Macy the alcoholic. That sorry drunken good for nothing excuse of a woman, who couldn't even control her own impulses! How could they even look at her with those helpful, friendly faces, when all they must really feel for her was contempt?

At least, that's how she felt about herself. The doctor had said she needed to struggle to stay sober, to get healthy, to get herself back on track. Was she even worth fighting for? What did she have to keep her going? In the eyes of the world, she was already dead. In her own eyes, she might as well be. It should have been her, anyway. Not Diana. Not an innocent child. And she had been unable to save her. Why? Because of this! Because she had been too drunk to think straight! She should have got Diana away from that place a long time ago, long before… Anyone in their right mind would have seen that. But Macy hadn't been in her right mind, had she?

Was she in her right mind now? The thoughts were racing through her brain so fast that she could no longer keep track of them. She feared that she really was going mad. Where was it, that last straw of sanity, of mundane reality, that anchor that would bring her back to her senses before it was too late? Could anyone help her if she couldn't help herself, or was she in fact, ultimately, alone?

An object caught her eye in the faint light. The phone on the bedside table. She rose and stumbled back to the bed. Sitting down, she looked at the phone and the little piece of paper that way lying on the table next to it. Something was scribbled in pencil on that paper. Thorne's number.

He had written it down before leaving earlier today (or was it yesterday?), with the express instruction that she should call him if ever she needed to talk, "day or night". But, of course, he couldn't have meant that literally. He would be asleep by now and she didn't want to bother him with her personal demons.

Macy looked at the number again. "Day or night…" Maybe she could make a quick call, let the phone ring just once. Then, if he was awake he would pick it up, and if he was asleep he probably wouldn't notice, or he would wake up briefly and just turn in his bed and go back to sleep.

Feeling a little guilty, she picked up the phone and dialed the number. The first signal hadn't even finished ringing before Thorne answered.

"Macy?" he said immediately.

"Thorne, I… I…" Macy stuttered, not really prepared that he would pick up the phone so quickly, "I'm sorry to wake you up like this…"

"You didn't", Thorne said reassuringly. "I was waiting for you to call."

"You were?" Macy said, dumbfounded. "How did you know…?"

"Well, it's just before 3 AM. That's the time when you would usually wake up at night the first time you went through withdrawal, many years ago. I would hear you pacing the floor in the living room of our apartment, back and forth, back and forth. Finally, you would come back to bed looking like you'd seen a ghost, and I would do my best to help you calm down."

"Did it work…?" Macy asked.

"Of course, every time", Thorne replied. "A little while with me is enough to put anyone to sleep. I have that effect on people."

"I don't necessarily want to sleep" Macy said. "I just want to get through the night."

"It's that bad, is it?" Thorne said in a serious tone.

"Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Not really. I'm just… I feel so ashamed. I shouldn't be bothering you with this, Thorne. I'm sorry. You must think I'm so weak…"

"No!" Thorne objected. "I don't think that at all! On the contrary. You're one of the strongest people I know, Macy."

"I don't feel too strong right now", Macy said. "If I were, I wouldn't be here in the first place."

"Strength isn't about never falling", Thorne said. "It's about getting up again. And that's what you do. It's what you've always done. You may not remember it now, but I've seen you fight this disease before, and come out on top. And you've already proven you can beat the odds time and time again, or you wouldn't even be alive today. You're a survivor. Don't forget that."

"But what if I wasn't supposed to survive, Thorne?" Macy asked. "What if I survived… and someone else didn't? Someone who should have?"

"Then you go on living. For them. Who died?"

"Noah's mother", Macy replied quietly. "Thorne, she was just a child. Fourteen. I was there. And I couldn't… I couldn't…"

Macy burst into tears. Thorne was silent - his daughter was thirteen.

"But how…?" he finally said, trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"I can't… please don't ask, Thorne", Macy pleaded. "I shouldn't have… it's better that you don't know. Believe me. I don't want any of this to touch you. It's too…"

She stopped. There was no way she could explain it to him, she thought. The horrors of that day, the danger that still might be very real. She shouldn't have said anything. She shouldn't have called him at all. And she shouldn't have allowed him to come and see her every day.

"Macy, are you still there?" Thorne's concerned voice asked. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm afraid."

"It'll be all right", Thorne said gently, but he was still obviously shaken. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Macy didn't tell him that that was exactly what she was afraid of.

"Look, Mace", Thorne continued, "you'll get through this. We'll figure out a way to deal with it. You'll see. I'll be over first thing in the morning, and we can take it from there, okay? It will be all right. I promise. Just try and get some rest now. Let it go for tonight. There is nothing you can do at the moment, so try not to drive yourself crazy thinking about this."

"Okay, I'll try", Macy said, making a brave face.

"I'll tell you what", Thorne continued. "I won't hang up, so you can just put your phone down on the table and anytime you feel like talking I'll be right there, okay?"

"Thorne, you don't have to do that", Macy protested. "I don't want to keep you up all night."

"I didn't promise to stay awake", Thorne said. "So if you hear me snoring…"

Macy couldn't help smiling despite all her worries.

"You really mean it?" she said.

"Sure", Thorne insisted. "You've got the hospital paying your telephone bill at the moment, it's their phone, so I say go for it!"

Macy chuckled.

"If that's your philosophy, you must be the dinner party guest from Hell", she said.

"Maybe so", Thorne said. "But I'm a pretty good host, if I may say so myself. And I still make the best chili in town. Someday soon I'll show you, when things have calmed down a bit."

His voice sounded so warm, so reassuring. When things had calmed down… would they ever? It sounded so simple when he said it. Everything would be okay, just like that. And maybe he was right. After all, nothing bad had happened since Macy came to LA. She had been sure that Luigi would come after her, but in fact, he hadn't. Could she be making too much out of it all? Could it be that she actually had escaped him, that he didn't know where to look for her? Were her fears if not unfounded, then at least exaggerated? Maybe if she just lay low for a while, things really would calm down on their own. God, she hoped so. Because she couldn't run very far like this, not with the baby. And she couldn't bring herself to leave Noah behind without knowing for sure that he would be taken care of by someone who loved him. He needed a real home, a permanent, stable one. No foster care - that was what Diana had made her promise.

"I wish I could just start over", Macy said, thinking out loud. "I want security, peace and quiet, for myself, for Noah, and for you, too…"

"You can", Thorne said encouragingly. "You will have all those things you wish for. Just promise me something, will you?"

"What?"

"That you will let me help. You don't have to do this on your own. I am here, for as long as you need me. Okay?"

"Okay", Macy said, hesitating a bit.

"Feeling a little better?" Thorne asked.

"Yeah", Macy said. "I think I'm going to have another go at trying to sleep now."

"Good thinking", Thorne said approvingly. "Good night, then."

"Good night, Thorne", Macy said with a smile. "Oh, and by the way…"

"Yes?"

"What you told me the other day about how our marriage ended… well, as bad as it was, I have to hand it to you, it took some guts coming clean about that."

"Macy, I know what I did was unforgivable…"

"No, I didn't mean to bring it up again", Macy continued. "I just wanted to say that even if you were a lousy husband, you are also one heck of a friend."

Thorne and Macy couldn't see each other and they were in different parts of the city, but they could both sense that the other was smiling in the dark. Friendship.

Yes, that was a good thing.