Note – Long lyric. But hey, come on, it's freaking Death Cab for Cutie.

-Mean-

-36-

I want to live where soul meets body

And let the sun wrap its arms around me

And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing

And feel

Feel what it's like to be new.

'Cause in my head, there's a Greyhound station

Where I send my thoughts to far-off destinations

So they may have a chance of finding a place

Where they're far more suited than here.

-- "Soul Meets Body," Death Cab For Cutie

.: 234 Cherry Blossom Lane :.

"Hand me the wrench again?"

Elizabeth picked it up off the towel and passed it to him. "You didn't get it?"

She could see him shake his head. "Nope. Damn rusted pipes – that's it. I'm calling someone to have these replaced by tomorrow morning. Soon as I get this out…"

It was after dinner and her son had emptied out the little cabinet under the sink, braced a small platform in front of it for his back, and crawled under to fiddle with the pipes. His tools sat on the floor next to him, and Elizabeth was also seated cross-legged on the tiles by his feet.

"So…" She drummed her fingers on her knees. "I saw Jason at the hospital today."

Jake's knee continued to sway back and forth rhythmically as he worked the elbow joint. "Did you?"

Elizabeth nodded even though he couldn't see her. "He told me what happened to his arm. What you did for him."

His socked toes tapped the clean tiles. "Ah."

"That's it?"

The clinking under the sink stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Monosyllabic answers." She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. "Weren't you going to tell me what happened?"

The platform slid against the tiles as Jake came out from under the sink, his brows furrowed. "Why? What happened, happened to him, not to me, so why would I say anything about it to you? What's he to you, anyway?"

Of course, she had no answer for him. Jake knew this, and he slid back under the sink when met with her silence.

"It was just a shock to see him," Elizabeth shrugged, continuing on. "With his arm in a sling and everything. He said that you saved his life, and I had no idea…"

"Well, I don't tell you everything, Mom. I can't."

"I know," she sighed. She'd been there before with his father, and now history was cruelly repeating itself. "So…can you tell me now?"

"It's probably the same thing he told you." His voice filtered out from the cabinet. He tossed the wrench out and grunted. "I was walking to the warehouse, heard shots. Doubled 'round back, found him on the floor. He hit his head and was shot in the arm. He told us where to take him, and once we were there and safe, I called Cam. He fixed him up, then we took him back to his place. That's all."

She could almost hear him hesitate, and the clinking stopped. "He took us to your old studio."

A soft smile touched her lips, and Elizabeth couldn't believe it. "My studio? He took you there?"

"Yeah." His knee, the one that swayed idly as he worked on her sink, stilled. "…You never told us about that place."

"Well, I don't tell you boys everything."

His laughter echoed in the confined space. "Touché, Ma."

"I can't believe…" She shook her head, still smiling. "I let the lease lapse when you were about a year old. I could barely make payments on the house and take care of all of us – I didn't need that old place, anyway. He still has a key to it, then?"

"I think he owns it," Jake replied, tinkering around some more. "Broken windows, rusted fixtures, red couch, crumbling bricks, stupid hot plate and all."

He couldn't see her eyes fill with tears. "The red couch – it's still there?"

"Yeah, it's still there. He bled all over it."

"Twice before, too," Elizabeth murmured.

Jake's hand came to a rest on his stomach. "Mom…how come you never told us about that studio? That you had to live there, that awful place-"

"Awful?" She let out a little laugh despite herself. "Oh, honey, I loved that place."

"Ow." He got up too fast and hit his head on the plumbing before sliding out and gaping at her. "How could you love that place? It's – It's a hole in the wall! There's no heat, the floor's not finished, you barely have room to turn around. How could you love it?"

Elizabeth shrugged, still smiling at the thought of her little hiding place. "Because it was mine. Because I was free there."

Her son's eyes were guarded. "With Jason?"

"With Jason," she allowed. "With your father. By myself. It didn't matter what the studio was like, I loved it all the same because it was mine. I was so used to be shuffled around all my life, from place to place, and that studio was the first place that I picked out. I was inspired by it, that's why I painted there. It didn't matter if it was a hole in the wall, it was my hole in the wall, and that was more than enough inspiration for me to paint and be free and live my life. I spent some of my happiest years there, before you boys came along."

He was biting his lip just like she was wont to do sometimes. "…How come you never painted here? Never painted again after that?"

Elizabeth felt herself flushing. "Well, there wasn't any particular reason, honey. I was just…busy. I had given up on my dreams of being a famous artist. Those dreams carried me when I was younger, sustained me. I didn't need anything else. I made some choices when Cameron came along, when you came along. I decided to settle down, get a regular job, one that would help me hold down a house. I don't regret those decisions."

Jake nodded and carefully slid back under the sink. It was just as he thought: he and his brother had been the reason for all that. He knew well enough that his mother would never even come close to resenting them for that, such a thing was impossible, but all the same it didn't sit right with him that he was part of the reason why she gave up what was once such a big part of her life.

"Maybe you should start again. You know, if you're…I don't know, inspired."

Elizabeth smiled sadly, watching him work. "Maybe."

She knew she wouldn't.

"Aha!" Jake slid out from the little cabinet with a triumphant grin. "Got it!"

Elizabeth held out her hand and he dropped the ring into her palm. "Oh, thank you, honey. I don't know what I would have done if I lost this. It belonged to your great-Gram, you know. She gave it to me before she died."

"It's the one Aunt Sarah always had her eye on," he grinned back, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "But she gave it to you instead."

Elizabeth slipped the ring back on her finger as her son used the wrench to once again tighten the elbow joint and stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He wrapped his tools up in the towel and picked them up, reaching out to snatch the phone from the counter.

"I'm calling someone to replace these pipes," he announced. "You need new ones. Brand new ones."

She didn't, but Elizabeth didn't argue. She just smiled.

"Okay, honey."

.: Penthouse 2, Harborview Towers :.

"So what are you going to do now that you've been cleared by Cameron?"

Jason rolled his eyes, smirking along with Sonny. "I don't know. Same thing I've been doing since…you know."

They didn't have a whole lot to do since Morgan and Jake took over. Sonny had various seats on town organizational boards, and he had his own hobbies like cooking and gardening, so he kept busy with that. Jason had his seat on the board of ELQ, so he still attended his meetings with Edward. Though he and his grandfather never saw eye to eye, Jason knew that the old man had been running ELQ very successfully since he started it, and Edward in turn knew of Jason's sound business sense concerning less than legal activities. On the few occasions they worked together, now that their old rivalry ceased to be of any relevance with the grandchildren all grown up and everyone else deceased, they made a good team.

"I was thinking…" Sonny paused and rubbed the corners of his mouth. "You could travel. You used to travel all the time before you worked with me full-time. You love traveling. Now there's nothing stopping you. You could get out, see the world again, just wander around like you used to."

"I don't think I could," he replied quietly. A lot had changed since those days. The last time he traveled the world like that, he was young and unattached. Now, he couldn't imagine leaving Port Charles, especially since Elizabeth, Cameron and his son were still here. "Don't really wanna go anyplace, anyway."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and both men looked over to see Jake and Morgan poke their heads in.

"Hey, Dad." Morgan didn't waste any time. "You wouldn't happen to have the information about the hospital's expansion project, would you? I was trying to find mine and thought I remembered lending it to you."

"You did," Sonny nodded. "It's in my office upstairs. You need it now?"

"Yeah. Meeting next week and I've gotta finish reading it. I'll be in D.C. almost all of this week, so I need to take it with."

"I'll get it for you," he replied. "And one more thing – I wanted to talk to you about this before you leave. Proposition 209."

Morgan arched a brow as Jake politely nodded hello to Jason. "What about it?"

"How could you not support it?" his father demanded. "I was at the town council meeting and someone told me you were fighting it tooth and nail and I didn't believe them."

"It's true, I'm very much opposed."

Sonny gaped at him. "It delivers funding to the local schools! Without it, the arts and music budget is halved, a full class is dropped from the schedule, and funding for sports is down by a third."

"There are other ways to structure that tax," Morgan informed him as Jake and Jason shared bland looks. They were more than used to father and son arguing about various town-related legal measures that Morgan was a very big part of. "The way it stands now, that 6 increase is only being demanded of those homeowners whose property is valued below 300,000. That's abominable."

"That's a miscalculation. And you got a solution, or you just planning to tear it down?"

"I'll have my associate fax you the calculation," his son retorted. "The figures are dead-on. And we do have a plan to fix it. Show up at the town meeting on the thirtieth, when we'll be opening this up for a debate. The vote will be the following week. Hopefully, you'll have all the information you need by then."

Sonny rolled his eyes. He liked it much better when he got to talk down to people instead of the other way around. "I'll go get your papers."

"Thanks, Dad."

"No problem. We were about to go out for lunch, me and Jason. You boys want to join us?"

"Can't," Jake replied. "We've got work to do. Have a good afternoon, though."

Morgan frowned when his phone buzzed. "Excuse me. I'll take this in the kitchen."

Sonny watched his boy retreat, already on the phone with his associate, and took one last look at Jason and Jake before climbing up the rest of the stairs.

.: Penthouse 2, Harborview Towers :.

Jason hated it when Sonny and Morgan argued politics. Not because they were at each others' throats, just because it was boring. It was awful of him, but he participated very little in local politics and it boggled his mind how Morgan could want to be anywhere near that scene.

Jake looked similarly bored, but Jason knew better. His son was already planning on soon having his hand in almost everything in town. He was very much a part of the local political scene, mostly due to Morgan, and always took his best friend's advice about which council to join and which measures would best service their town. Though he was bored now in the discussion of it, Jason already knew that on voting day, Jake would not be supporting the measure that Morgan was so opposed to.

Morgan's phone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket, frowning. "Excuse me. I'll take this in the kitchen."

Jake nodded and watched him leave, then slipped his hands into his pockets. "So. You got the sling off."

Jason nodded. "Yesterday."

"How's the arm?"

"Good, good."

Jake nodded and looked around the room. "Good."

He looked down, relieved, when his phone rang. "Excuse me. I'll, uh…" He looked around and gestured toward the balcony. "Be right out there."

Jason turned away as he headed toward the doors and stepped out into the sunshine to take the call. The door was still open a crack, so he could heal Jake's voice.

"What's up? Oh. Who'd your father try to introduce you to this time? Uh-huh. He owns what? Gee, high-class. What are you complaining about? He's tall, dark, somewhat handsome, and he owns a media empire. You two would be a good match."

It must have been Amalia, and Jason was surprised to hear Jake talk that way. He had been under the impression that the two of them were seeing each other, how ever casually, and this was strange.

He could hear his son laughing. "Don't forget to send me a Save the Date, okay? Shit, you're not going to make me be your maid of honor, are you?"

She must have gotten mad, because Jake's voice dropped, became gentler. Jason listened in, only feeling a little guilty. He hardly ever had a chance to hear Jake be gentle. He'd been good while he was shot and they were waiting for Cameron, but Jason had been in and out and only remembered that Jake was trying to keep him awake.

"Look, don't worry. He'd never make you do anything you didn't want to. Come on, he adores you. I know, I know it's frustrating. Tell you what, you got anything going on this weekend? We'll take the car up to Canada, find one of those hokey bed-and-breakfast places…yeah, just you and me. It'll be fine, it'll be okay. Yeah. Friday afternoon. Okay. Bye."

Jake stayed out on the balcony for a long moment after he hung up, and when he finally came back in Morgan still hadn't wrapped up his phone call, so he and Jason had no choice but to stare at each other.

"Sonny still-"

Jason nodded. "Yeah."

"Ah." He slipped his hands into his pockets again. "And Morgan's-"

"Yeah."

"Hm." He leaned against Sonny's desk, wincing, and rubbed his temples. "So…bet you're glad to get rid of the sling."

Jason smiled. "Yeah, it was a pain in the ass."

"Aren't they?" his son shuddered. "My God, I couldn't wait to get mine off. Did everything I could to get Cam to give me the go ahead to burn that damn thing."

He winced again and shook his head, and Jason's brows furrowed. "You okay?"

"Headache," Jake muttered. "I get them sometimes."

"Yeah, you said." Jason studied him, still concerned. "You gonna be okay?"

"Get 'em cause I can't sleep," he grumbled. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It'll just take a minute to pass. Fuck."

"Don't you have any of those pills? The ones Cam prescribed you?"

He shook his head. "Ran out last week, never bothered to refill."

They looked over as Sonny came down the stairs, Morgan's papers in hand. "What's going on? You okay?"

"You got any painkillers around here?"

"Bottle in the desk drawer," he replied as Morgan came out of the kitchen, now texting on his fancy new phone. "You see it?"

"Yeah, thanks." Jake shook three pills loose and dry-swallowed them as best he could. He was clearly in pain, but that didn't stop him. "You ready to go or what? What were you doing, dictating the Old Testament?"

"Quit whining," Morgan replied, finally putting away his phone. He was about to continue when he noticed the way his best friend was rubbing his head. "You okay? Another headache?"

"Yeah," he ground out. "I'm fine. Fine."

"You got your Vicodin with you?"

Jake glared at him, hating the hen-pecking as much as Jason hated it when Sonny did it. "No. Ran out. It's fine, let's just go."

"We'll stop by the hospital and get the script from Cam," Morgan announced, taking the papers from Sonny and shoving his best friend through the door. "Thanks, Dad, I'll see you later. Move it, asshole, we're getting you those damn pills."

"Drug dealer."

"Just move."

.: Morgan's Escalade :.

"I told you, I don't need the pills," Jake insisted as Morgan came to a stop at the light a few blocks away from General Hospital. "I got some ibuprofen from your dad. I'll be fine."

Morgan watched him take a swig from the water bottle out of the corner of his eye. "Look, the hospital's on the way, and we have some time. We'll get the script from Cam, stop by the pharmacy and get it filled. It'll take fifteen minutes. He's working in the clinic today, right? He'll be right on the first floor. Even better."

"I don't need the-"

"You're the last person I trust when it comes to your pills," Morgan informed him. "You always lie about how bad they are. I've seen you, man. You're getting those pills if you need them."

"But I don't," he insisted. "They always pass. It'll be fine."

"We're one block away," he informed him. "Oh, look, too late. I just pulled in."

Jake rolled his eyes as Morgan parked in the twenty-minute parking spaces not too far from the front door. "You're just like my mom – getting worried over nothing."

"Better safe than sorry," Morgan told him. "So shut up and deal. Come on."

Jake heaved a heavy sigh and reluctantly got out of the car, following Morgan as he walked briskly toward the doors. The air conditioning hit him square in the face as he walked in, and they headed immediately toward the free clinic where all General Hospital doctors and nurses were required to put in their requisite weekly hours.

Cameron stood leaning with his arms on the counter, talking to Molly. The clinic's computers were on the fritz and she was scanning the hard drive as the nurses milled about around them. He looked up when the two men entered and smiled, despite being a little confused.

"Hey, guys. What are you doing here?"

"Hey, strangers," Molly beamed, her fingers flying over the keys as she worked.

"Hey." Morgan tipped his head toward his best friend, who was scowling. "Jake needs his prescription. He ran out last week or something."

Cameron nodded and reached into the large pockets of his white coat, fumbling around for his book. "Sure, sure. Hang on – here it is. You get another headache?"

"A little while ago," Morgan filled in for him. "We were at my dad's place and he took an ibuprofen for it. We can get this filled right away, right?"

"Yup," Cameron nodded. "You know where the pharmacy is – Jake? You okay?"

He had seen his brother wince, his eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression one of pure pain, and Cameron had just reached out to him when Jake bent forward and vomited on his shoes.

.: Chloe Morgan Memorial Clinic, General Hospital :.

Pills, pills, pills.

Jake absolutely hated running to his brother to write him a prescription for his pills. It made him feel like a fucking invalid…or at least someone with a pathetic chemical dependency. There was a reason that he cut his pills in half. A half-dosage just took the edge off his headaches, leaving him to deal with the dull throbbing for the better part of the day, but he didn't trust himself to take more.

He knew the effects of Vicodin. Aside from the damage it did to the liver – Jake had already been jaundiced as a baby, according to his mother, and he really didn't feel like going there again – it created a pleasurable, floating feeling. He had taken a full pill once just out of curiosity and lost almost half a day, just floating in and out of his own head. It was a very addictive feeling, and he didn't trust himself not to abuse that.

So he took to only taking half pills, never more, even if the headache was bad. He just required assistance in getting past the worst of it. He didn't need to be one hundred percent better; he just needed to be able to function without feeling like a metal spike was being driven into his head. Besides, a little pain was good. Pain made him feel alive.

But Morgan never listened. He knew that his best friend kept an eye on his Vicodin use. He glanced at the bottle every time Jake had to take it out, always taking a quick mental picture of how full it was and judging that against how full it had been the last time Jake had taken it out. Morgan probably worried about the possibility of addiction, too, and Jake didn't blame him.

He watched how many Jake took, but he also knew that Jake needed them. So when he saw that the bottle was empty, he always pushed Jake to go get it refilled. His headaches were bad enough as they were; he didn't need to try to get through them without anything.

"Jake needs his prescription filled," Morgan was saying. "He ran out last week or something."

Cameron reached into his pocket for his prescription pad, no questions asked. He was very careful about the dosage he prescribed, but he never needled Jake any more than that. "Sure, sure. Hang on – here it is. You get another headache?"

Jake nodded weakly and thankfully, Morgan took up for him.

"A little while ago. We were at my dad's place and he took an ibuprofen for it. We can get this filled right away, right?"

His last word coincided perfectly with a sharp jab of pain right behind Jake's eyes, and he closed them tightly against it. It felt like something was being seared right into his brain, a brilliant explosion of light and pain and white.

"Yup. You know where the pharmacy is – Jake? You okay?"

His head was swimming, and Jake could barely see straight. And even as he leaned forward and emptied the contents of his stomach onto his brother's shoes, he was barely aware of it. And as soon as it happened, the darkness hurtled in at him and everything bled away as he collapsed on the floor at his brother's feet.