A/N: Hey guys! Sorry I've been gone so long. School starts at the end of the month and that diploma isn't going to earn itself ;)

As always, welcome to new readers and thank you everyone for your love and support of each chapter! Each view, follow, fave, and review brightens my day. Please keep them coming. I love hearing your thoughts.

Remember when I said Friz was a necessary evil in this story? Well sadly, the time has come for me to write one of their scenes and let me tell you, I struggled doing so. But I did do it and I put it first so we can go ahead and get it out of the way before getting back to our triangle. I wouldn't suggest skipping it though or you will miss something important moving forward.

'Who the hell does Sam Morgan think she is?!'

The nurse fumed as she sped toward the home she shared with Franco and her children.

'And what gives her the right to kick me out of my own hospital,' her venomous barbs continued.

It was no secret that Jason and Sam's marriage had been in the verge of collapse when he'd gone missing or that she had moved on with his twin brother. The only thing that still tied them together was a piece of paper that fed her ridiculous sense of entitlement. Sam didn't even want Jason anymore. She just didn't want him showing interest in her.

'Not that she wanted him,' she told herself. It was the principle of the matter, not the actual obstacle that bothered her.

She huffed and made the turn onto her street, her thoughts wandering back to poor Drew, and the unfavorable position he found himself in.

At least she and Jason had shared a genuine connection; something Sam could neither touch nor accept. But his relationship was built on a foundation of spite. He hadn't gone to Sam out of love, but because he was angry with her for keeping "his" identity from him. The snarky con hadn't chosen him either, not when it counted. But she couldn't resist the opportunity to kick Liz while she was down.

She'd poisoned his mind and seduced him into her bed, and now that he wasn't Jason anymore it was only a matter of time before she tossed him aside.

The car idled as she pulled in the drive and examined her reflection in the rearview mirror. She fluffed her hair until she was pleased with the result.

'Just because she'd had the night from hell didn't mean she had to look it,' she mused and slammed the car door shut.

Inside, Franco was waiting, unusually anxious for her arrival. The house had been cleaned. The table was set and dinner was on the stove. There were candles giving off a subtle glow and a bottle of wine was chilling nearby.

He filled two glasses and sat the bottle aside, then took a large swig for courage.

'Love demands honesty,' he repeated the mantra from therapy to keep from losing his nerve. Though, truth be told, it was nearly nonexistent by the time she stormed through the door.

"You won't believe the night I had," She grumbled, and dropped her belongings at the entrance.

He extended the wineglass which she eagerly accepted.

"Actually, you're one of the few people who knows just how vindictive Sam can be, so you'll probably have no problem believing that she had me booted out of the hospital just to keep me away from Jason."

His brows inched closer in confusion.

"Jason?" His chest filled with unease like fluid, making it hard to breathe. "I thought he was out of town."

His fiancé gave a sardonic smirk before dragging a long sip of wine from her own glass.

"That was before they rolled him into the ER with a fresh bullet wound, and god knows what else."

She took another sip and her dark sapphire eyes glittered with disdain.

"And as usual there was Sam," her hand made a sweeping gesture to the side,"being his cheerleader and refusing to acknowledge the obvious."

A dark nothingness slithered up his spine as she spoke; a void he recognized but chose to ignore.

"But he's alright, isn't he?"

'I shouldn't care,' he scolded himself.

Maybe in a vague "we're all people and this sucks for you" kind of way, but he shouldn't have been taking it so personally. Jason Morgan was nothing to him. What should it matter if the world was short one less mobster?

'Of course I should care,' he corrected his thinking.

Jason may not be anything to him, but he was Jake's biological father and Elizabeth's friend. His death or harm could potentially cause pain to his own loved ones. Only a true psychopath would have no compassion for his situation. Not that he knew Morgan's exact situation. He'd been too busy debating his own reaction to listen.

The perturbed nurse had been prattling on throughout the course of his process and had polished off her glass of wine already.

"All I did was show a little concern for his wellbeing. You'd think she might do the same," she ranted as she walked into the kitchen. If she noticed the romantic atmosphere he'd worked to create she made no mention of it. She did pour herself a refill though.

"But noooo," the glass was brimming as she sat the bottle down on the table. "She had to get all petty and territorial."

She sunk down in a chair and kicked her shoes off with her feet, still sipping between sentences.

"It's one thing for her to be nasty," she shrugged apathetically. "I'm kind of used to that, but for her to try and get me fired just for having an opinion, that's a new low, even for her."

Franco double blinked, attempting to sort through the overload of information he'd just been given.

Sam and Elizabeth would never get drunk and gossip together, but they weren't exactly enemies either. In the last two years they had learned to coexist and even had moments of compassion and understanding between them. What could have possibly happened to have changed that?

The former artist felt his stomach twist.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes were cast down toward the burgundy liquid in front of him.

The brunette looked up at him, perplexed by his response.

"What for? It's not your fault she's bitter and rude."

She sat the glass down and rose to comfort him. Gently, she pried the wine from his fingers and sat it aside.

"Hey," she whispered, touching his face with her hand. "What's going on with you tonight?"

He lifted his chin to meet her eyes with his own tortured gaze.

"I'm afraid I might actually be an irredeemable psychopath," he confessed, looking back down at his drink.

"I just want to be worthy of you," he murmured quietly, his eyes floating back up to see her reaction.

Her porcelain skin glowed in the candlelight and those deep blue spheres were shining with love and concern as she took him in.

For a brief second he wondered if she could see the same endearment reflecting in his own murky orbs.

She smiled that sweet, understanding smile that made his heart flutter.

Psychopaths couldn't feel that, could they? No. They could only imitate what they saw. Then it had to real. His love for the woman standing in front of him wasn't born of some sick obsession with her ex lover. It was clean and tangible; something he could grasp onto in his moments of doubt.

"Franco, you're not a bad person," she assured in the honeyed voice reserved for him and her children. "Yes, you did some bad things, but you weren't in control of your thoughts and actions at the time. Even then, there was goodness in you. I believe that. Otherwise you would have crossed those lines instead of just pretending to."

She believed in him, in his goodness. How could he shatter that illusion with the truth?

'Love demands honesty,' his conscience insisted.

"What if you're wrong?"

His voice was low and thick with emotion.

"What if, hypothetically, I wasn't a good person when I came back to Port Charles? I just pretended to be until the tumor was discovered."

At first her eyes went blank; her expression muted. Then slowly he saw her shock shift into something else. Disbelief.

He reached for her hands as she tried to pull them back.

"But everything else you know and believe is true. I did have a tumor and I did change. The man you know and love, the life we planned together that's all real."

He searched her eyes for compassion and found revulsion instead.

"You-you had Michael raped."

She hissed the last word.

"You- you...with Sam?" The nurse clutched her stomach suddenly feeling ill.

It played on a loop in her head; every time she had defended him, every time she had pled his case of innocence...every time she had forced a rape victim to play nice with her attacker for "the children's sake."

Her hand flew up and struck him across the face. Instantly, she pressed it to her chest, feeling oddly remorseful.

How could she feel anything but contempt, knowing what he'd done?

Her gaze turned to the hall where her children were sleeping. Oh God! She had a rapist under the same roof as her boys.

What was she supposed to do with that?

"Get out," she demanded icily.

Franco stood afraid and helpless, laying his soul bare for her to see.

"I know, I know what I did was awful, and if I could take it back I would. But I can't. All I can do is be a better man, and I have been."

Elizabeth felt her heart wrench, as though trying to separate itself from her chest, but she held her ground.

"I know..."

He reached for her but she recoiled again. His hands fell limp at his sides.

"Doesn't that mean anything," he asked dejectedly.

Did it? She honestly didn't know. Her thoughts were jumbled and her heart was crying out for a man she could barely stand the sight of.

"I don't know," she replied, fighting the urge to vomit. "I just-" she swallowed the bile rising up in her throat. "I just need to think."

Franco nodded and grabbed his jacket from the coatrack by the door. That was when it hit him, he had nowhere to go and no one to lean on. Elizabeth wasn't just the woman who'd stolen his heart. She and her boys were his entire world.

And he'd likely just lost them forever...

Back at the hospital, Sam groaned into her hands and wiped furiously at her tear stained cheeks.

"I need to get it together," she chastised herself aloud. "Drew'll be back any minute and I can't let him see me like this."

Carly reached into her purse and pulled out a packet of travel tissues, which she extended to the brunette.

"Why not?" She challenged. "This is the real you Sam. This," she gestured to her friend's sorrowful expression, "is how you really feel. Why should you have to hide that from him?"

She shrugged, took a tissue and blotted beneath her eyes.

"Because he'll want to fix it, and he can't."

She sniffled and rubbed her nose with the wadded paper.

"He just wants so badly to make this okay for me. They both do, and I want to do the same for them, but I can't."

She hooked the dark curtain of waves behind her ear.

"You know, the situation is what it is, and nothing any of us do seems to make it any better."

She glanced cautiously up at the blonde next to her, silently begging for answers. Unfortunately, Carly didn't have any.

"I don't know, Sam. I've been in a lot of crazy situations in my life."

She couldn't help but crack a smile as she said that, and her amusement was contagious. Sam returned her grin with a half-hearted quirk of the lips.

"I do know what it's like to love two very different men and feel caught between them. You want to be fair, you know, you want to keep everything even; not just because you don't want to hurt their feelings but because if you're being honest, you don't want to make that choice, but that juggling act," she paused and looked Sam squarely in the eye. "It's exhausting, and it's a waste of time and resources that could be better spent working through the problem instead of avoiding it."

Her chocolate gaze fell to the hands gathered in her lap.

"I don't know how."

The blonde laid her hand over her companion's.

"You could start by being honest," she suggested with a sympathetic stare.

She'd been so caught up in her own emotions of joy and guilt when Jason returned that she'd never stopped to put herself in Sam's shoes. Carly had been free to run into his arms and beg his forgiveness, but the woman sitting next to her didn't have that luxury. She had vows to honor and a lost man leaning on her for all her love and support, who refused to believe the truth until he was forced to. She'd been so focused on Jason's pain and Jason's loss, that she'd completely missed what her other best friend was going through. Now that she had a firm understanding of the turmoil broiling within, she'd give anything to take back her careless words from months prior.

Sam looked up and her lungs constricted as she caught sight of Jason's doctor whispering conspiratorially at the nurses desk. Epiphany peered over in their direction and then peeled herself from her seat with a sigh. Her chocolate gaze followed the head nurse until she stood before them, a pillar of strength and professionalism.

Both woman rose to meet her.

"Mr. Morgan is stable. He's been moved to a room in the inpatient wing. I took the liberty of having a pillow and blanket left for you," she nodded toward the brunette.

Usually this was the portion of the speech where she explained visiting hours and went over guidelines, but that wasn't necessary in this case.

"The rest you know," she said emphatically. "I can show you the way, if you like?"

Sam glanced over her shoulder to the blonde at her side.

There had been a time when they would have battled for the privilege of seeing Jason first, but not anymore. After years of butting heads and a few good punches thrown in, Carly had come to accept that Sam's place was at Jason's side, and vice versa.

"Go," She nudged playfully at her shoulder. "I'll wait for Drew, just...give him my love, okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Sam replied, trying to smile. Then she followed Epiphany down the hall, each step filling her feet with lead.

'I don't want to do this,' she thought as they moved further down the corridor, the walls closing in.

'You have to,' the omniscient voice persisted.

'What if I can't,' she argued, but kept putting one foot in front of the other until she found herself outside his door.

She peeked through the small rectangular window and her heart sunk. Physically, Jason was a large man; tall, muscular, and towered above many. He had a generous heart and a strong will. In every aspect, he was the epitome of strength. But even he looked small and weak when laid in a hospital bed surrounded by tons of medical equipment.

Quietly, Sam tiptoed to his bedside, gently brushing the surface of his hand with her fingertips. Some part of her had hoped he would feel her touch and reach for her, but that didn't happen. He just laid there, silent with closed eyes, breathing.

"Hey," she greeted meekly, and sunk into the chair behind her. "Guess what? We made it home. Well, not home, home. You're at General Hospital."

She scooted to the edge of her seat.

"It's not the greatest homecoming, but it's better than the alternative, right?"

Her cocoa orbs were fixed on his face; the one she'd stopped allowing herself to miss years ago. Then her gaze lowered to his hand. The hand that had held her up in moments of weakness and brushed her hair back as they danced together in her dress and veil. She'd thought that was a moment only they would share, but thanks to Helena and Faison, Drew now shared that memory too.

Gingerly, she slipped her hand under his, palm against palm, and locked their fingers together.

"Carly's here too," she said, her lips curling upward. "I'm sure you already knew that, but she made me promise I'd tell you. The doctor said he expects you to make a full recovery, but you know me. I'm not going to be able to believe it until I see it for myself."

Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes.

"I want to beg you to wake up but I don't feel like I can, or like I have the right to. You kept all our promises and I broke them. You fought to come home to us and I gave your family to someone else."

She shook her head as the silent tears trickled down.

"I married someone else. I had a child with someone else. And it doesn't matter that I didn't mean to. I can't ask you to come back for me...but Jason there are so many other people who need you, starting with your children. Danny loves you so much, and Jake, God Jason he's been through so much. He needs your guidance, your patience, your understanding. And Scout," She sniffled again and rubbed her nose, this time, with her free hand. "She's not yours, but you're her uncle. Look how much better off Michael is for having you in his life, the impact you left. You think my daughter's not going to need you? She will. Michael's a grown man and he still does."

Sam got up from the chair and seated herself on the empty space at the side of the bed.

"Then there's Sonny and Carly, and your mom. The list goes on for days, and yeah if I'm being selfish, I'm on there too."

She planted a kiss to the back of his hand.

"I told you once that if you died my world would go dark, and when I thought you had, it did. Danny was the only light I could see. And yeah, I learned how to live without you and love without you, because I thought that's what you'd want, and for awhile it seemed like the darkness was gone but when I saw your face that night you saved me, it was like the light turned back on and I knew. I couldn't say it, but I knew that you were you and that you were alive, and it made a whole world of difference. I mourned you once Jason, I can't do it again."

Her eyes turned heavenward.

'Please, God, don't make me do it again,' she prayed.

Meanwhile, Carly sat in the waiting area of the ER waiting for Drew to reappear from wherever he had gone.

Despite her love and loyalty to Jason, she understood what Sam meant by a different and real connection. From their first introduction, she had felt drawn to the man walking toward her. He was a good person and a good friend. And he didn't deserve the heartbreak that had been thrust upon him.

Her thoughts fractured off as he rounded the corner.

"Hey." The greeting was direct and informal, but not unkind. "Where's Sam?"

He extended the tray of, what was probably by now, cold coffee and she cautiously reached out to take the closest one.

"With Jason."

She sipped cautiously on the beverage, surprised to find it cool enough to drink.

"He's being admitted."

The blonde scrubbed at his jawline and blew out a deep breath.

"That's good- that's..." he trailed off, unable to focus on the conversation.

His heart was broken but still racing at twice it's normal rate. So was his brain. The past and present bled together, knowledge and memory, until he could no longer separate the two. He'd always drawn a line between himself and Jason's memory, and believed himself to be a man of his own making. But as the pictures in his head flashed out of sequence and time it was difficult to tell where his brother ended and he began.

"Are you okay," Carly asked, rising from her seat to meet his eyes.

'No,' he wasn't, but Jason was in the hospital and Sam was in tears. He wasn't about to make this situation about him.

"Can you stay with her awhile?"

His gaze drifted down the inpatient corridor and back to his current company.

"I just have some things I need to take care of."

'Like getting the hell out of here before I go into cardiac arrest,' he thought to himself.

She nodded curtly. "Yeah, of course. I'll pitch a tent in the lobby if I have to."

The mental image caused him to smirk. Carly had many talents, but he doubted camping skills were among them.

He thanked her and cast one last glance down the hall before exiting in the opposite direction. There was only one place he could think to go, under the circumstances. It was the one place where he never felt isolated or unwanted, and would provide him with some much needed perspective. He needed to see Scout and Danny, to remind himself what he was fighting for.

Carly finished the cold coffee and went off in search of Sam. She found her at Jason's bedside, clinging to his hand, her heart undoubtedly in pieces, even if she wasn't ready to admit it.

The blonde slipped in unnoticed and sat down in the abandoned chair. When Sam opened her eyes again, Carly was there, watching her.

"Do you want me to give you a minute," the brunette asked, but made no attempt to disentangle herself from her husband.

Her friend smirked and shook her head.

"No, this is the most peaceful I've seen him since he's been home. I'm just sorry he's not awake to enjoy it," she added sassily.

Sam smiled weakly and she instantly regretted her choice of words.

She leapt from the chair to tend to the wounds she'd accidentally created. For the second time that night Sam crumpled in her arms and Carly held her until she found the strength to compose herself.

"I'm sorry I keep doing that," she said, untangling herself from both blondes. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I used to be so much stronger than this."

'You still are,' the voice whispered but she found that hard to believe given all the evidence to the contrary.

Carly eyed her carefully.

"Sam, even strong women have breaking points. In less than a year you were thrown off a bridge, gave birth in conditions no mother should ever have to. You almost died twice. Your hus- Drew was shot right in front of you, Jason came back and you just saved his life. No sane woman wouldn't be reeling right now."

It did sound like a lot when she put it all together that way.

"Why don't you get out of here for a little while?"

Sam's eyes immediately went to Jason.

"I can keep him company," the blonde insisted.

"And before you say no, let me remind you that you've been wearing the same outfit for at least two days, you smell like the jungle, and not in a good way, and most importantly," she held Sam by the arms, "you can't take care of Jason by not taking care of yourself. If he wakes up and sees you like this the first thing he'll do is try to send you home."

She looked down at her v-neck and jeans, the same exact ones she had been wearing since their first night on Tetepare

"Three actually."

Carly nodded.

"See, you need a shower, and a nap. You probably didn't sleep the whole way back, did you?"

How could she with Jason slipping in and out of consciousness the whole time and her fearing for his life?

She watched as Carly dug something from her purse. Keys.

"Go home. Eat, shower, sleep. If there's even the slightest change in his condition, I'll call."

She should take the offer. The brunette knew that. Not only was she neglecting herself by staying, but she was also being unfair to Drew, who needed her too.

Her gaze lingered on the keys with sudden clarity.

"Drew left without me, didn't he?"

Carly's hesitance spoke volumes.

"He said he had some stuff to take care of. I'm sure he just wanted to see the kids or check in at Aurora. He promised he'd come back, but you shouldn't be trapped here until he does."

She placed the keys in Sam's hand.

The brunette looked back at her with shining eyes of gratitude.

"What did I do before we were friends," she asked wondrously.

The blonde smiled with a small half-shrug.

"You were lost, of course," she responded playfully. "Now get out of here," the blonde ordered gently.

Sam stepped over to the bed and hovered over her husband, a faint smile on her lips as she wrapped her fingers around his hand. According to the doctor, there was no reason to believe he wouldn't wake up, but she was still afraid.

"I have to go now," she explained, touching his face with her other hand. "Carly's going to stay with you." She glanced over her shoulder toward their mutual friend. "She's probably going to talk your ear off."

Carly chuckled.

"I am, until you wake up and tell me to stop you're my captive audience."

Sam shook her head with a smile.

"I'll try to hurry," she bent down and whispered in his ear.

As she pulled back she could almost see his lopsided grin of amusement. Hopefully, it would be there greeting her the next time she came through the door. But she couldn't let herself think about that. Otherwise, she'd never have made it to the parking lot.

Drew stared up at the dark windows of the penthouse floor, his heart heavy. For two years, he and Sam had shared that home, built a life and a family. For two years, she had looked into his eyes with complete confidence and promised her undying love and commitment to him and their life together. And after all of that, somehow, she had looked him in the face and lied. Maybe not outright. Not once had she actually said she believed he was Jason or that she had no feelings for his brother. But there had been an implication in her choice to stand by him all that time, a deliberate deception.

When Carly had walked into the church on his wedding day and declared him Jason Morgan, Sam shook her head with pain filled eyes and screamed no. Even when the dna and the facial deconstruction program seemed to prove it, she argued that there had been some kind of mistake. But not with his brother. Like everyone else, she had instantly believed his story and accepted his claim, despite all evidence to the contrary, and the life they shared together hanging in the balance.

Whether she knew it or not, she had already made a choice, and continued to make it repeatedly each day that followed. It was only a matter of time before she realized it too.

'And then what?'

Thanks to the memories jammed into his brain, the picture was alarmingly clear. Sam would stay by Jason's side until he was released from the hospital and once he was released she'd find reasons to stop by, never for herself of course. She might need his perspective on a problem or plan a play date for him and Danny. He'd probably need help moving with his shoulder recovering from its latest gunshot wound. The excuses were limitless, as were the opportunities for them to grow closer. Slowly, the gap would dissipate until she remembered everything she loved about his twin and forgot everything she resented. At which point, her confliction would become a distant memory.

All the way up the elevator and to the front door, he ruminated on this. He replayed every moment of significance in the last two months with this newfound perspective as he turned the key and entered the empty apartment. His hand groped for the light switch and with a flick of his finger the darkness was gone and Sam had materialized on their couch; somber and patient.

She sat criss cross on the middle cushion, clinging to her ankles. Her hair was still damp in the middle but dry at the roots and already kinking at the ends.

"I didn't think you'd come back tonight." He tossed the keyring on the desk by the entrance.

The brunette appeared confused by his greeting, but shrugged it off.

"I wasn't planning to," she mumbled, as though working through an equation aloud. "I was in the shower."

Her dark eyes sparked for the first time since his arrival.

"There's just something about the shower. I don't know if it's the hot water or maybe the solitude, but I seem to do some of my best thinking in there," she babbled anxiously. "It's like time slows down," her hands rotated backwards in a circular pattern, "and then all my thoughts and feelings just kind of, catch up?"

Her hands made the same gesture in the opposite direction.

"I don't know if that makes any sense or not-" she paused and scratched the back of her head.

"Anyway, I was going to go back to the hospital, but then I realized I couldn't. Not until I talk to you."

His heart leapt and fell with her declaration. For a split second he'd thought maybe her choice had been different, until he'd heard the ominous tone and a variation of the phrase "we need to talk."

The blonde trudged over toward the sofa to take a seat next to her while she uncrossed her legs and planted her feet firmly on the floor.

'The perfect position to drop a bomb and run,' he couldn't help thinking.

He sat with a sigh, and instinctively reached out to lay a hand on her knee.

"If this is about what happened with Jason back on the island, I already know."

He watched as her dark eyes flashed with shock and remorse.

"And I've decided that it's okay," he forced the words past his lips with great effort. "Maybe okay isn't the right word. It's...understandable, under the circumstances."

She sat silently listening as he pulled his hand back and fidgeted with the ring on his left hand.

"We've talked a lot about what his coming back means for me, and how it effects our life and the people in it, but we never discussed what it meant for you. Maybe because I was afraid to admit that everything might change, but I see now that it has."

He looked up into her eyes and she was reminded of the ocean; stormy and unpredictable in all its glory. It was one of the subtle differences she had noticed between them; his impulsive nature. While Jason always thought things through, Drew had a habit of leading with his heart.

"You love me, but you also love him. You always have, and you always will. And now that we both know that I'm not him, I think we're both trying to figure out where I fit in this new scenario."

Sam wanted to deny that. Like him, she had tried to ignore the immensity of the situation, but there were forces at work greater than her stubbornness of will. Something was pulling at her and it wasn't just Jason or her sense of loyalty.

"That's not it," the brunette blurted suddenly, surprising them both.

"I'll admit I'm a little confused." The dark curtain of hair shielded her face as she hung her head. "Okay, a lot confused. But it's not for the reason you think."

He fought the urge to push her hair back and was relieved when she did so herself and met his gaze.

"It's me," her head tilted slightly. "I'm the one that doesn't fit. We made a decision together to live a certain kind of life; and I thought I made that choice based on what I wanted, but when I look back on that time it seems more about what I didn't want, you know?"

Her chocolate spheres searched his for understanding, and came up empty.

"I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want the kids to grow up without their father, and I didn't want to be afraid anymore and I think I thought running Aurora would give me that."

"Hasn't it though?" He asked, clearly still not getting the point, but trying his hardest to do so. "There's no more shootouts or legal indiscretions, we're a legitimate business now, with no ties to that world anymore."

Sam raised a skeptical brow.

"Except for the part where I was a known mob widow and the mother of Jason's child. Not to mention," she raised a finger and wagged it in his direction, "having Julian Jerome as a sperm donor."

Drew could delude himself from the reality of their situation, but she couldn't. She knew all too well what happened when a member of "the business" attempted to walk away. They never got very far without someone trying to drag them back in. And if, by some miracle, they did make it out, it wasn't long until they were followed and forced to defend themselves. They were no safer by pretending those connections didn't exist. They were only less informed and less prepared.

"Then maybe we should leave Port Charles," he suggested, but she shook her head at the proposal.

"And go where? This is our home, Drew. This is where our family is. And even if we did, there's nowhere the mob or the fear couldn't follow. We live as safe a life as we possibly can here, and I'm still afraid all the time."

She watched as the former SEAL grit his teeth.

"You have good reason to be. Jason's business is brutal and dangerous-"

The brunette squinted at him in disbelief.

"That's not what scares me," she snapped impatiently. "Jason puts his life and his freedom on the line to do what he believes is right. I understand and respect that. What scares me is the car crashes, the freak accidents, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm not afraid of the danger surrounding the business. I'm afraid of the danger that comes with living, and that terrifies me because it paralyzes me. Whether I'm in the office at Aurora or the middle of the jungle, I'm afraid to move, to breathe, to just be, because if I do something bad might happen."

Her hand combed recklessly through her tangles.

"Having Jerry at gunpoint is the most in control I've felt in I don't know how long, and I liked it. A lot. I could see the horror in your eyes and I didn't even care because I needed that sense of power over him. That's what I'm afraid of, that that's who I am now. And it doesn't help when you keep placating that fear."

He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but she didn't give him the chance.

"I know you love me, and you're just trying to make it better, but changing our lifestyle hasn't fixed me. If anything, I've felt less like myself and more out of control than ever."

For a moment she allowed her confession to hang there between them, uncertain how to continue.

'Maybe I should apologize,' she thought.

'For being honest?' The voice asked, 'because I thought the whole point of this conversation was to stop lying.'

It was...

Sam heaved a sigh, knowing there was still more to say, and that he wouldn't like any of it.

"I promised you when we found out about Scout that I wouldn't lie to you in order to protect you, and I broke that. I knew you weren't Jason the second I woke up in his arms, and I didn't tell you because, well, you begged me not to. Not that that's an excuse. It isn't. I should have told you the truth from the start and I wish I had, but I didn't feel like I could. So I just kept avoiding the question and trying to support you the best way I knew how."

He could have let her keep going, sat there and silently listened while she confessed all her sins, but that seemed cruel to them both, given what he already knew.

"I didn't exactly make it easy for you to tell me," he mumbled remorsefully. "But the more I go over it in my head, the more obvious it becomes. You didn't look surprised when Andre told us. You looked torn, and you've looked that way every day since," he added hesitantly. "I knew you wanted to investigate the switch and that you weren't happy at Aurora, but I guess I convinced myself that would change with time, that you'd grow to love our new life as much as I do, but you don't..."

The brunette laced their fingers together with a sympathetic smile.

"I wanted to. I tried... I told myself that my hunch would be meaningless and that I could walk away after that-"

"But it wasn't." He realized now why Sam had felt so guilty about Jason's disappearance. He'd been following the lead she had given him.

Oblivious to his epiphany, she continued.

"No, it wasn't. And I can't tell you how good it felt to know that I was onto something." The corners of her mouth fell. "Or how how guilty I felt for feeling that way. It went against everything we agreed on, and I wrestled with it for days, but in the end I had to share it with Jason and Spinelli."

He nodded stoically and turned his head to face her.

"But why not come to me Sam? Why is your first instinct always to run to him?"

It didn't make any sense when she thought about it. For the last three years, Drew had been her partner. In any situation, he was her first call, her husband, her confidant. Shouldn't he be the one she leaned toward, if for no other reason, out of comfort or habit?

"You didn't want to know," she reminded gently. "I talked to you more than once about looking into your history and you shot me down every time."

Her tone was a bit more forceful at the end.

"So you went to him instead," he grumbled, earning a look of disapproval from her.

Instinctively, her hand pulled away.

"This isn't about the stupid competition in your head, Drew. It's about me." She gestured toward herself. "It's about a decision I made. I chose to investigate behind your back instead of telling you that's what I wanted to do. Just like I chose to lie to your face instead of standing my ground back in Tetepare. I knew when I told you to go that I had no intention of staying behind, and that's not on Jason. That's on me."

The blonde leapt up from his seat on the couch, eager to separate himself from the woman he loved.

"Then why did you do it?!" He shouted angrily.

"Because it made sense to me," she countered as she rose to stand. "Because I didn't want to fight with you, and I knew no matter what I said you would never understand that. You see things the way you see them, and that's all you see."

Her hands gesticulated each verbal accusation.

"You keep saying that you trust me and your trust what we feel for each other, but you've been waiting for me to leave you since the second we found out you aren't Jason! You think everything I do is either a step toward him or away from you and if I had dared disagree or shown any sign of doubt or discontent you'd have twisted it into a sign of abandonment just like you did with Sonny and Carly," she spat.

"How can I," he growled in frustration. "How can I trust anything we shared together when the foundation," he pointed to his head, "belongs to someone else! How can I believe it's me you love when I can remember you telling him the exact same words while looking at him the exact same way, and making him feel the same way you've made me feel every day of our life together? How am I supposed to believe that your love for me is any different than what you felt for Lucky or Patrick or any of the other men who lost you because they couldn't compete?"

Sam remembered those relationships from the inside and knew the circumstances surrounding those breakups weren't nearly as clear cut as Drew was making them out to be. Yes, her love for Jason had been a factor, but Lucky had his own soulmate that he couldn't move past. So did Patrick.

'Did he,' she wondered.

He seemed convinced that his life was empty before her because his military file didn't list a wife or children, but what about a fiancé or a girlfriend. Relationships came in many forms and not all were recognized by the military or the legal system. It was entirely possible there was someone out there who loved him the way she did.

"Can you look me in the eye and honestly say you have no doubts that what we feel for each other is real or that it will last now that I'm not him."

His ocean orbs peered down into her, searching for assurance he knew he wouldn't find.

"That's what I thought."

Panic struck her spine as she felt herself once again losing control of the situation she found herself in.

"It's not you I don't trust," she snatched his face between her hands, desperate to keep him from walking away. "You are the same strong, brave, loving man that I have always known you to be, even before I thought you were Jason. And I know that there is something real between us." She touched her forehead to his, as they had done so many times before. "But I don't know if you're mine to have, or if that love is enough."

He placed his hands over hers and slid them down his cheeks until his face was free of her grasp.

"You want me to decide who I want and I don't even know who I am."

His intense eyes settled on their joined hands.

"Then maybe that's our answer," he replied sullenly. "We got the house." The sentence brought a faint curl to his lips but it vanished with the following statement. "I'm going to move out as planned, but I think you should stay here."

"Are you leaving me," her voice broke at the end and her eyes pooled with tears.

Drew pushed her hands back toward her chest.

"I prefer to think of it as preparing for your arrival," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'm not giving up. When you're ready to be a family again, I'll be there waiting."

He planted a kiss to each hand, then released her and walked up the stairs to begin packing. He wouldn't spend another night in the penthouse that had once felt like home, hoping Sam would eventually join him. He wouldn't keep clinging to a life that was already gone. All he could do now was build anew and pray they would find their way back to one another, happy and whole.

Sam stood alone in the living room, surrounded by pictures and memories of her life with both men. The penthouse was the first home she had ever known and while it wasn't exactly neutral ground, it was equally haunted by both relationships. She looked down at the ring on her hand; the one she had promised Jason would never come off her finger again. The one Drew had slipped over her knuckle just over a year ago. Which one was she wearing it for? Her husband or the man she had married? They were supposed to be one and the same. Jason was supposed to be the only man she ever gave all of herself to or whose child she had borne, but he wasn't and now she had to decide what to do with that.

She thought back on Carly's words as she watched him come down the stairs with his duffel bag in hand.

'You don't want to make that choice.'

By walking out that door, Drew could be making it for her. He said he wasn't giving up, that he would be waiting for her, but she knew what he was really doing. He was giving her the freedom to walk away guilt free. The only question was why, and whether or not she would take advantage of the opportunity.