With A Little Help From My Friends

by her name is erika

"Victoria may not mean anything to you, but she means everything to us." / Or, the aftermath of an attack too senseless to understand. [Victoria-centric, post-stabbing]

With A Little Help From My Friends

—

1.

Detective Thea Campbell parks her car in the gravel driveway of a small house on a rural road.

It's the only one. She's somewhere in Adams County (read: Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin), two hours away from Genoa City. Two hours away from the chaos and aftermath of an attack that leaves her best friend fighting for her life. Naturally, she wants to lead the investigation and hunt Ripley Turner down herself, but Chief gives the case to Rey because he can see how this affects her more than the other cases she works on. Victoria's her friend. Her son is Reed's best friend. Naturally, her mind wonders over to him.

To be so far away from home and have no one to support him through something like this. Johnny and Katie are babies, young children who need mommy home. Her stomach flips, triggering a wave of nausea as crime scenes with circumstances just like Victoria's have tragic outcomes. Innocent people attacked because of mistaken identity, or the unintended target of a drive by shooting and by the time she gets there, the victim is a corpse shrouded in a white sheet.

Chief Williams doesn't accuse her attempting to go rogue and tells her he knows how terrifying this must be for her. Thea, Chief says not as her boss. He touches her shoulder, a kindness and concern in his eyes. Please I understand how close you and Victoria are. This has to hit you personally. The work will be here when you get back, but relax today. Thea recalls all of the ways this department fucks up but damnit, they try. At least, her division tries and someone has to. Someone in this damn place has to do good, thorough police work and understand that "Protect and Serve" aren't just word emblazoned on a police cruiser. A police badger isn't shiny plastic at the bottom of a cereal box.

It's something in the blood, a principle. Either you do the work until it consumes you or you turn around from the police academy and do something else. Thea spends her adolescence fighting the system, being in it and fighting the police until she figures after being grazed by a stray bullet at 17, that she better join. It looks like a fun job, and she's on the ride since.

Thea pushes every protest she has back and merely accepts Chief's words. Fine. She'll step back. She'll pull away and let Rosales take the lead on this case. She'll come back and get the bare facts and never get the major, complex developments. Thea sighs and says she can't live with that but it's not up to her. Thea turns around on her heel and leaves the police station and goes home. Not to rest or call Nick to get updates from him. Not to call Lou right away and fil her son because he loves Victoria like a second mom. He calls her Auntie V, because he respects her and it's just the polite thing to call a familiar older woman. She remembers Victoria laughing and thinking it's sweet. Thea would give anything to hear that laugh. She doesn't even go home to call her own parents in Atlanta because she's so sad and needs to hear her dad's soothing baritone and her mother's wisdom.

She's the oldest of five siblings spread out all over the country, and maybe, it's time for a family cookout because life is fragile, unexpected and sometimes, absolutely cruel.

She goes home, gets the evidence board out and starts mapping everything legally known about Ripley Turner until it takes her to this small house on a rural road in the middle of nowhere, it seems.

—

Thea puts her car in park, opens her glove box to reveal her loaded weapon and badge.

She exhales, staring at the semi-detached house with resolute purpose and rage just simmering in her blood. Thea holds her breath, and counts to ten like she tells Mona when she's frustrated and can't quite vocalize them. Thea has to be patient. To catch a monster, she has to lie in wait like a lioness lingering in the tall grass of a hot savannah before the kill.

Of course, she's going rogue and doesn't have her holster. She leaves home in a hurry and there's just tunnel vision. Find Ripley Turner and continue praying Victoria doesn't die. If she does die and Ripley still breathes and walks free, Thea is melting her badge down and calling it a day. She looks at the suitcase and frowns. Not exactly the route she wants to go, but she can understand Victor's need to watch Ripley burn.

Thea grabs her badge, affixing it to her hip.

Her gun goes in her waist to be used if the situation calls for it. She turns around to deftly grab the suitcase, its cargo making it heavier than it seems. The wind moves through the trees and sounds like a distant yet angry scream, a howling only pain can induce.

Thea mutters a quick prayer, says Amen, and opens the door to her car and stepping outside.

—

Eva Blake is only a voice on the phone. It's a voice she works to get to open up to her and trust her. Still, Thea understands this woman is risking a whole lot. Thea grips the handle of the suitcase as tightly as she does a brick or her gun. Her senses are heightened and she's ready for surprise attacks because operations like this always go wrong. Eva is a woman who holds the key to finding Ripley, she believes, but believes that she's human. She's young, a single mother and lives alone. Thea thinks to offer this woman money is insulting. Victor argues everyone has their price.

Eva Blake is a pediatric nurse with a young daughter named Clementine. Thea discovers she lives in Madison before retreating to this small area of Wisconsin Dells. A community so small it's easy to be found, and can be hidden on a map. Thea knocks on the ivory door with the gold knocker once, and then twice. She waits, heart racing in anticipation.

The door opens to reveal a young woman. She's tall, slender with caramel coloured skin. Her eyes are doe-eyed and a sparkling brown, dark curls a messy bun on top of her head. She opens the door and blinks before her eyes have recognition in them.

"Oh! Hey, Detective Campbell."

Thea feels stupid carrying this stupid briefcase of Victor Newman's money. Trifling ass old man. She waves her in against the cold, invites her in before shutting the door quietly. Eva wears a long cream-coloured sweater and rubs her hands against her black leggings. Thea smiles gratefully stepping in, setting the briefcase of money down by the door.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person although I'm not understanding the briefcase…"

"Honestly, I don't either but I'll be straight with you," Thea explains with a sigh. "I know you're risking a lot, and it's not fun to open up a part of your life you escaped from. The woman Ripley attacked…" she trails off, pushing her own feelings aside. "Victoria Newman. She's my friend. One of my longest. Our sons are like brothers, so I have a personal stake here. That's why I'm leading this manhunt alone because she's fighting her life right now and I'm not a doctor, but I can do this. Well… Her father understands what you're risking too and thought you should be well compensated. I don't mean to insult you, but the money is yours if what you tell me today helps catch him. You can take that money for yourself and Clementine and—"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no," Eva says again, more clearly. She's resolute. "I'm not taking any money, Detective."

"It's half a million. $500,000 dollars."

Eva shakes her head, sniffling. Her cheeks are flushed and when she glances back at Thea, Eva's eyes are shiny with angry tears before they fall down her cheeks. She takes a sweater sleeve and wipes at her face. "I said no," the woman repeats, voice catching. She sobs, and inhales. "Please let Mr. Newman know I won't be needing his money because I won't. I should have done this sooner. Logically, I'm stupid for rejecting that," she gestures to the briefcase, "but I feel terrible. I have been ever since news broke and I saw his face everywhere. If I had come forward sooner, this wouldn't have happened. I'm willing to come forward now so he doesn't terrorize anyone else again. Clementine deserves to live in a safe world… My whole relationship with that guy was a nightmare on top of a rollercoaster. The only thing I got from it is my daughter. After I help you and make sure Ripley Turner is in jail, I'm leaving the country to be closer to my sister. The UK is across the Atlantic," she smiles, softly. "But I have a job lined up there and Clementine will have cousins to grow up with."

A sort of relief washes over Thea and she can't help but smile. She laughs, running a hand through her hair. Naturally shoulder length. She closes her eyes for a brief moment and then opens them, staring at Eva with a sense of awe.

There are people in the world who want to be good because it's the right thing. Simple as that.

But she has to confirm something. Just to make sure she hears it the first time.

"Wait. Eva… you're the mother of Ripley's daughter?"

Eva nods, and takes her phone from the center table. She taps into it until she flips the illuminated screen to her, revealing a little girl of about three years old in a bright red coat and pink snow boots. Soft dark curls, her mother's skin, dark eyes and a bright grin that takes up her whole face. Thea's heart does a somersault, remembering her own children at that age. Louis, who is mischievous and makes her laugh as he did now. Mona, who runs around, is mature for her age but loves to play. Thea looks at Eva's face and then recalls Ripley's face, matching each feature to Clementine's.

"She's beautiful."

"Thank you. She looks like me, but has his eyes. Can't control genes but she's mine," she says with a shrug. "Okay, um," she points a thumb behind her toward the kitchen, "I'm going to put some tea on. You can take your stuff off and make yourself comfortable, Detective."

"Only if you call me Thea."

"Deal."

---

2.

The money is resting in her trunk. Well, the space below her trunk because half a million dollars is far too much to carry. Even with a service gun and knowing how to defend her, Thea learns that robberies are always possible even more so because she's a woman. Maybe it's because she's always just a tad bit paranoid and suspicious by nature. Thea sits on Eva's couch, letting the warm mug of Earl Grey tea warm her palms. Eva sits across from her, carefully blowing over the steaming top before taking a small sip of hers.

"It's good," Thea compliments and appreciates the hint of lemon.

"Thanks. Glad you appreciate the lemon, Thea."

"I'm appreciative of everything, Eva. I mean it."

"You have no reason to trust me," she confesses, "but it's like I said, I'll do everything I can to make sure Ripley is caught. He owes me child support, but I don't want it. Clementine will be fine. I've been fine. Ripley Turner is an animal who belongs in a cage."

Thea smiles, touching her shoulder. "In the interest of self-disclosure, I raised two children. A son and a daughter. It's not easy, so you're unbelievably courageous to do this. Okay," she says, before she gets teary herself, remembering her children, the ugliness of her divorce and the good man that tumbles into her life nearly a year ago when she really isn't interested at the time. Derek Ramsey, a paramedic. Damn the man wears her down and gets her to agree to one date after five attempts – and well, the rest is history. "Let's go catch an attempted murder, girl."

Eva laughs, eyes twinkling and a smile that reaches them.

"Damn right, Thea."

—

She sets the mug down on the table and pulls out her phone to record. For Chief Williams to understand, this has to be by the book, and that means getting Eva's full consent to record. No tricks. No half million-dollar bribes masking as reward money. It's all blood money anyway, Thea thinks with a light shudder. She can hear her mother admonish her, aghast, but how she wishes Billy is the victim instead. The man goes through life playing with fire and other people get burned. How the hell is that possible? How does a man who reminds her of Dwayne Humphries, the piece of shit she married (he's the ex-husband now, thank God) against all sense and the father of her children, manage to become a vortex of blackness and fuck-ups only to taint innocent people around him? She worries for Johnny and Katie.

Thea hits record app on her phone and begin.

"This is Detective Dorothea Campbell of the Genoa City Police Department. The date is February 27, 2020. I am here in Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin at the residence of Ms. Evangeline Blake in regards to the Victoria Newman stabbing investigation," she says, formally. "Do I have your full and expressed consent to continue with this recording?"

Eva nods, certain, "Yes."

"And everything discussed here is the truth to the best of knowledge and ability?"

"Absolutely."

Thea nods, slowly, figuring out where to start her line of questioning until she sees it like a loose thread in a warm comfortable blanket. If she pulls on it just enough, Ripley's blanket of hiding unravels. She clears her throat and continues, "State your full name and state your relationship to the suspect in question."

"Evangeline Annalise Blake," she states, clearly. "I am the mother of the suspect's child… and Mr. Turner's ex-wife."

"You were married?"

"Yes," she says again, hand going to a naked ring finger. She sighs and exhales. Whether Eva is talking to the recording or her, she isn't sure anymore. "We met in high school and dated, so we were high school sweethearts. We lost touch for years after graduation. Then years after college, we bumped into each other at a mixer. You know? One of those for perpetually single people in Illinois. I started dating Ripley that night and it was like no time between us had passed…it was just easy. We were building our life together," she recalls with a soft smile. "I was studying to be a registered nurse while Ripley's construction business was taking off. It was good but something was missing… He always wanted to pass his business down to his future kid one day. He wanted a child and I wanted to wait until I got my certification as a RN. You know… it was an increase in hours and income, but it was worth it. I'd known this dude since I was 13 and knew he was always… dark beneath the charm."

"Dark?"

Eva motions with her hands as if searching for the words until she finds it. "When I mean dark, Detective Campbell, I mean… he was like one of those sweet lollipops that could give you diabetes, and rot your teeth, but were so addictive and you had to lick to get to the liquid center," she explains. "Ripley was a sweet guy and did everything a boyfriend, fiancé and husband was supposed to do, but there was this part of him that was obsessive, possessive, controlling, had to know what you were doing right now at that particular moment. He was meticulous and organized, but got jealous, had a hair trigger temper…" she laughs, but it's not a happy one. "Then again, so did I. I'm a volcano, a monster, a pissed off teenager who had her virginity taken unprotected, a girlfriend who put her bare foot through another woman's car window, a wife who fucked her husband while holding a kitchen knife to his throat inside of me. I still have those parts of myself there, but years of therapy helped. I did that just to see the glimmer of fear in them, but it turned him on more."

"What?"

"You heard correctly. Pain, pleasure, affection, it's all the same to him. He can't separate them. He never could," Eva reaches up and reaches up to free her hair of its confine of a black hair tie. She shakes the thick voluminous curls out over a shoulder. Almost like she's freeing herself. "I will admit that we didn't have any limits of what we would do. I'd known him practically my whole life. He was twisted, but it fed something in me, and it was more of an exercise of pushing the boundaries. I wasn't scared of him."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I had no reason in my mind to go to fear when it came to Ripley. I knew he could be intense and was used to it. Every sexual encounter we had was consensual. There was a never a marital rape situation between us."

"What changed?"

Eva looks at her knowingly. Something that a woman goes through and lasts nine months.

"Pregnancy. That's what changed between us. Now, I couldn't be wild and the rough sex, the bloodplay, the bondage… it all went away because now, there was a third party involved. I gave him my body to do whatever he pleased, and I enjoyed it… that stopped. I didn't want that anymore. Not when our child was in here," she touches her abdomen. "And everything became about protecting Clementine while she was in here."

"Was Ripley excited to be a father?"

"Yes, he was. At first. Things shifted around the end of my second trimester."

Thea forgets her phone is there. When she's unraveling something this complex and intricate, her tunnel vision kicks in. Her bloodhound slash Rottweiler instincts kick in. She needs to keep this momentum going. Don't stop digging, she tells herself. Do not let this go. Not when Victoria's life is on the line and despite how she feels personally, there's another woman with her own Ripley-induced nightmares. For Amanda Sinclair to come to the realization that her life is seen as nothing, something Ripley feels he has the right to toy with before taking, it will haunt her for some time. Thea hates Billy for introducing this woman into Victoria's universe and disrupting it, but Amanda doesn't deserve to be attacked either. Eva is saving both of them.

"What changed?"

"He stopped paying attention to me and well, I knew he had been cheating on me with Amanda Sinclair. I'm not saying she's a homewrecker in case anyone wants to frame it that way. It wasn't this love triangle where I was fighting so hard to keep my husband. The house was wrecked before Amanda Sinclair arrived," she sighs, and tears fill her eyes. "He'd only been nice to me because we didn't know the gender and he so badly wanted a boy. A son to pass on his business, his name. He had names picked out. Ripley Turner, Jr. RJ for short. We left for the ultrasound to find out the gender, and well…"

"It didn't go the way he wanted."

"Exactly. He was going to have a daughter. I remember him staring at the ultrasound, the baby moving on the screen and then at the technician like she was stupid. I still hear him asking to check again. The disbelief that crossed his face," she recounts, hands trembling in her lap. Thea thinks it's from fear, the vivid flashback from a clearly painful time in her life, but it's not. It's rage. "Like… like it was offensive for him to hear he was going to have a daughter. It's funny," she sniffles. "All these years he couldn't hurt me, couldn't trigger me and trip me up. The moment his dream of having a son died, he had a new weapon that would work every time."

Thea nods slowly, remembering all the ways Dwayne uses Louis and Mona to hurt her and all of the ways she wants to kill him for it. It's not criminal. It's a primal instinct to protect these pieces of yourself and keep them safe from all danger possible.

Thea supplies the answer with empathy, and understanding. The pieces are coming together.

"Clementine?"

"Clementine," she confirms, a rage flashes across her face. "My innocent baby girl… Shortly after, his business took a major hit. My income was enough to provide for three of us. I had saved away for maternity leave and my family chipped in. My older brother, Aaron, moved over to Lake Delton from San Diego just to be close to me. Ripley's business wasn't going as well as he had no family around. Who did he blame?" she points her index finger at herself. "I was the reason everything was going to shit. It was the baby's fault too. Then… that trend of at least not touching me while pregnant broke."

"How so?"

"We were arguing. I told him it would be okay, that he was smart and would bounce back because he was brilliant that way… That darkness took over and before I was aware, he had one hand around my throat as he pressed me up against a wall. He had a serrated knife pointed at my belly. He taunted me… wanted me to beg for my life. I wouldn't and that instinct to fight came back. But I couldn't because he'd kill my baby… or at the very least… cut her out of me. Probably sell her on the black market to the highest bidder and throw my body in a ditch somewhere. So… finally, I did…" Eva continues, hand near her throat. "I… begged him. I said everything I had to. Just to survive. He did finally let go and I burst into tears and couldn't stop."

"It's understandable being through an ordeal like that…"

"No," Eva says, quickly. "I wasn't crying because of what just happened. It was terrifying, yes, but that's not where my tears came from. I was crying because in the back of my mind, I was worried he'd succeed in killing Clementine. He didn't. I felt her kicking as if she was telling me not to worry and she was fine," she grins, wiping away the tears at the corner of her eyes. "He realized what he had done and panicked because of the marks around my throat, y'know?"

"Did you press charges?"

"Yeah. Right away. For threatening me and my unborn child. His girlfriend was a high-powered attorney and of course, she bailed him out," she shrugs. "I went to the police station and showed them the bruises around my neck while they were fresh."

"Then, what happened?"

"My attorney put a protective restraining order in right away. He was ordered to stay away from me and our unborn child for six months. He tried to fight it, but they couldn't. Too much evidence against him so Amanda had to let it go. Ripley was to get pictures of Clementine during those six months and ordered to pay child support, but you know… Ripley didn't listen. It was his way or no way. He had to fix it. Whatever it was," she rolls her eyes and waves a dismissive hand. "He broke into my house when Clementine was like two months old. He wanted his family back. Amanda this…Amanda that… he didn't want her. He didn't care about that relationship anymore. She wasn't me. The sex with her was trash so on and so forth. He…demeaned her. It made me angry as a woman more than anything. She didn't deserve any of it. I tried to help her out and warn her when they first got together but when I'm the problematic wife, it won't matter what I say… Ripley was clearly manipulating her and had a hold on her. Anyway, he professed that I knew him, and remember how we were back in the day. He had the fucking audacity to call me by the nickname he started when we first met. He wanted his daughter. He loved Clementine. I wasn't having it," she laughs to herself almost amused but pleased with herself. "Thank goodness I had taken my brother's advice and got a gun license."

Thea can't help but gasp lightly. Of course, she has to use a gun, it's for work.

But Eva carries. Oh.

"You carry?"

"Sure do. I keep it in a secure safe in my room. Clementine is at that age where she's curious and likes getting into…everything. But she won't get anywhere near my gun."

"When Ripley broke his restraining order, what happened?"

Clearly, this is a pattern with this guy. Breaking restrain orders. Break into places he isn't wanted. Not understanding when a relationship is over and the woman who leaves it. An inability to understand his own emotions. A habit of his needs and wants placed above everyone else's. Thea is only a detective, not a criminal profile or a psychotherapist so it's out of her scope to make diagnosis Ripley Turner with a personality disorder or this branch of psychopathy. But the man is dangerous. It's clear as day. There's no space for rehabilitation with this one. Holy shit.

"I shot him," Eva says, breaking the silence. Her eyes bore into Thea's. "I shot him twice to protect my child," she reaffirms, no regret or remorse in her eyes and a new stoicism in her face. "I shot him once here," she says, pointing to her upper shoulder, the point where the arm and the shoulder connect, "and then I shot him again here," she points her abdomen. "Non-fatal, but guaranteed to be painful enough to incapacitate him. I got my phone out, called the police to get here quickly, or I'd kill the intruder in my house. I was lining up the third shot with Ripley staring up at me with this stunned look… like I had done it. I had actually put a bullet in him and he couldn't believe it. Clementine started crying when the police got here. One of them soothed her. Paramedics took him away and after I explained everything – just like I'm doing with you now – I wasn't going to face any charges because of something called The Castle Doctrine in Wisconsin."

Ah. That. Thea is vaguely familiar with it, but that's more Izzy's arena.

"After all that, I moved away from Madison here to Wisconsin Dells and it's been me and Clementine for the most part ever since," she blushes at the last part. "I met someone after my divorce pretty quickly. He's a good guy and loves my kid like she's his. She loves him, and I'm happy. It's quiet here."

Thea leans over and presses the stop function on her phone to stop. She e-mails it to herself to save it. A lot happened here. A lot of important information that Chief Williams and Rosales won't touch because, in her opinion, they don't get it. Let Chief Williams be mad at her. Let that man fire her. She'll fucking quit.

"I know that was a lot."

"Actually, yeah…" Thea confesses even though the default answer is always no. Nothing is ever too much when you're a cop and the job is to help. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, running over the crime scene in her mind but seeing the medium sized spot of Victoria's blood on the floor. "It's a lot to take in, and thank you. I don't have $500,000 to give you myself, but seriously – thank you, Eva. Because of you, Victoria's children may have their mother back."

"I saved my child and work to save other children every day. I only hope that it's enough."

"Me too."

---

3.

Before she goes, Thea does a quick search of the house. Not because she thinks Eva is a double agent and is keeping Ripley somewhere, but Thea will leave feeling better for being thorough. Thea comes down the stairs just as Eva tosses a kitchen towel over her shoulder.

"Everything clear?"

"All clear, and you have a lovely home," she compliments. "However, Ripley is still out there. Is there any chance he'll come back here?"

Eva snorts, "Did you miss the part where I shot him twice?" she pauses, and then shakes her head adamantly. "No, he won't."

"Fine. I understand. But just for added safety, I'm going to suggest you stay pack a few things for yourself and Clementine and go up to Lake Delton for a couple days and stay with your brother. I know… I know… you don't want to leave, but you are his ex-wife. It won't interfere with your plans to relocate to London. On the off-chance that he is headed in your direction, I don't want you and Clementine at risk. I'll feel better knowing you're with people. He has nothing to lose which makes him dangerous and unpredictable. I'll call the Lake Delton Police Department and have them on alert. I've already let Wisconsin PD and Madison PD know. So, if Ripley ends up in any of those places, he'll be arrested on the spot."

"Thea, listen to me," Eva says with an earnestness in her eyes hard to ignore. "Ripley's not coming over here. Not when we've settled the scores between us. There are two bullet wounds on that man. He's not or they'll be a third."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"Thea, I'm not leaving my house."

"Do it for Clementine. Whether he comes around this way or not, he knows of Clementine. Another man is essentially filling the void? Great. That's wonderful," she argues, with the thinning patience of a police officer and mother. She gets Eva wanting to stand her ground and she's incredibly empowered, but she has to be practical. No ifs or maybes. "Ripley may not want to settle scores with you because you are old news. He can be separate from you, but on some level, he'll want to be near Clementine. Protect her, Eva."

She lets out a breath and says quieter after a moment.

"Fine," she relents, jaw clenched, arms folded across her chest. "I'll pack and stay a couple nights with Deanna. She's a colleague of mine and like Clementine's honorary aunt," she covers her face with her hands, brushing her curls back. It reminds her of what Victoria did when she becomes stressed and never forms the words. "You understand I hate this, right?"

"I do. But you know what?" Thea gently touches the young woman's shoulder. She looked Eva straight in the eye. "Victoria has three children. The reason I'm here is for them. I'm here for Victoria's mother. That woman hasn't never left her daughter's bedside. I'm promising you, Clementine and those three kids that I will catch Ripley and make sure he never hurts another person ever."

"I'll hold you to it, Thea," she answers, with a steely gaze of her own. Eva sighs and picked up her phone. "I have a lot of calls to make, it seems."

"I'll leave you to it. Thanks for having me," she says, shrugging on her coat and wrapping her scarf – the wool one Derek gets her for their six-month anniversary, a metaphor for him always giving her hugs when she needs them. Even superheroes need to hang their capes up. She goes into her coat, and pulls out her card. "Here's my card. If anything come up, give me a call."

Eva offers her a small smile, taking the card. "Okay," she takes the card, suddenly pensive. "Wait, there is something that will help you catch Ripley," she rolls up the sleeve of her sweater, and touches her wrist. "He has a tattoo of a flame. He'll lie about it means, but it means me," Eva pauses, wrapping her arms around herself, fighting against nostalgia. "He used to call me Blaze. That's what his nickname was for me."

Thea thanks her and walks into the Wisconsin cold, down the gravel road to her car.

Her eyes linger on the trunk, and then she goes into her car only to get her phone. She sends the recording of her interview with Eva Blake – Ripley Turners ex-wife and the mother of his young daughter, that's a plot twist that still throws her and nothing really does anymore – to Chief Williams and Rey. She feels a sense of satisfaction when she hears the send notification.

Thea adjusts her mirror, starts her car and buckles for the drive home and whatever may happen afterward.

She smirks, putting her phone on vibrate and out of sight.

---

4.

Rey finds himself in two places at once. His mind going to the evidence board he sets up as if he always does when he looks at a new case, or tracking down a suspect. Then he finds himself holding Sharon close in their quiet moments. He finds himself checking in with Lola because her marriage just ends. She assures him that she's fine and ready to go by her maiden name again. Sharon has cancer and it's a battle. He finds himself wishing he can do anything to take the nausea after chemotherapy away. Rey wishes he can make the irritability bearable and the exhaustion non-existent. Sharon is a fighter who runs in the jaws of cancer, determined to beat it despite being just as fearful. He can only be in awe and realized he's a lucky man who has the honour of being surrounded by very strong women: his mother who raises three children, his sister who experiences how painful divorce is but is still the little girl he teaches to ride a bike.

She falls many times, scrapes a knee, an elbow even but she gets up. Soon, she's riding all by herself without him or Arturo around to steady the bike.

"Hey, it hurts," Lola assures him even when she's the one with tears in her eyes. "But you know me," she quietly sniffles, wiping at her eyes. Lola smiles at him, dimple in her cheek and lightly punches his bicep. "I'm a Rosales. We're tough, remember?"

But Sharon's here with him, Mama is in Miami still radiating from the happiness from being Mateo's abuela and Lola moving forward with her life whatever what it would be. Everyone he loves is okay. Then across the town, this stabbing investigation weighs on him. He gets to know Victoria, gets to understand her in the short amount of time they are trapped together. He arrests her because he's bound to the badge and he has to, just as it pains him to arrest Sharon. But Victoria doesn't have the ways of a cold-blooded killer in her. She's attractive – just not his type – but she's funny. She's pretty sharp and it's impressive and terrifying that she can free a door with a little physics, a letter opener and the stiletto of her shoe.

They're something of friends. He crosses paths with Victoria and they talk in ways that don't have her protecting herself and his investigative instincts waking up. She's actually funny and he surprisingly understands this sarcastic, wry, still serious but warm woman in such a short amount of time. There are photos of her family: her parents, her siblings, her children – three of them, he recalls. Rey remembers meeting Reed during the JT Hellstrom case. He looks like his mother, but sometimes like his dad. Victoria's a sister, a daughter, and the mother of three with two young children who depend on her and must be confused despite the assurances of adults. Victoria is an emotionally guarded person by nature but she lights up speaking about her children and for a brief moment, he's reminded of his own mother.

What if it's Lola? What if it's Celeste who ends up hurt? He flashes back to his little sister being hurt because of mistaken identity and for once in his life, unable to make it better. When he's old enough to understand his father and everything Adrian Rosales symbolizes, Rey vows to do everything he can to fill the void of his father's departure even though he can't break the hold he still has a hold on her.

A mother and her children are the most instinctual things. It's one of the natural and no one questions it because it's the status quo. That's why cases where a parent endangers a life she is responsible for ignite a rage in him he suppresses with his persona of Detective Rosales. That's why he decides he'll take the lead on Victoria's case, no matter Thea pushes back and bulldozes her way into this case. Victoria and Thea are close, friends for years and therefore, she has a personal stake. Campbell is touched by the Atlanta Child Murders just as Rey lives around the drug trade explosion in Miami. Rey is methodical while Thea Campbell is the madness, but it works. On any other case, it works. Here, where it touches some part of her and this is beyond anger at the law being breached. Thea's rage is from her best friend in the hospital, attacked with Billy as the one to set Victoria Newman and Ripley on a collision course.

He remembers Thea with a rage that has her with a dark glint in her eye as she seethes, gripping her coffee mug a little tighter. "Even when she gets herself away from Billy, Victoria still suffers," she laughs, hollowly, shaking her head. "That stain is intact and Victoria could die because one piece of shit leads Victoria to a knife wielding one."

That's why it doesn't surprise him in the least when Paul calls him, sounding equal parts stressed, but not surprised. He just needs to put out fires that – yes, Thea starts out of her need to do something. He senses Thea relenting to back off only sends her hurtling into a quest of her own but with her own grit and a kind of madness that is unfiltered and cannot be tamed.

"Rey, I'm going to need you at the station."

"Might it to have anything to do with Thea completely lying to you like I told you she would?"

Paul sighs over the phone, "I told her to stay away from this because her friendship with Victoria is common knowledge. She carries a resentment toward Billy and can't be objective with anything concerning him. She's a top tier detective," the chief concedes, "but… she had strong feelings toward all the players involved. She's put the whole state on alert. That's what APBs are for and there's a recording and it's from Ripley's ex-wife."

He's thrown.

There's an ex-wife? Sharon walks by and mouths what's wrong as she sits on the couch next to him after returning from the bathroom. She's asking him what's wrong when she fights her way through another bout of nausea. She squeezes his hand and he rubs his thumb across her knuckle with enough softness to let her know he's fine, but his case – the one Thea is supposed to stay away from – just takes several twists and turns.

"I'm on my way."

He hangs up and turns his attention to Sharon. Her face is flushed, but still, she's radiant. He reaches out and tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Hey, you."

"Duty calls?"

"Yes. There are new developments on Victoria's case and I'll tell you later, but I have to be there. I just don't want to leave you alone until I can have Mariah come over."

"I talked to Nick upstairs after… I finished throwing up," she discloses, with a slight frown in her mouth before the concern on her face wins out. "Just to check in. He's trying to be the strong one for his parents and you know, he's optimistic and talks like he'll fix his sister through some force of will, but I know him," she sighs. "He's not doing okay with this. Victoria is more just than his sister. You know they're like, best friends, but they're like part of each other," she explains to him. "I…think if Victoria died, it would rip his soul to pieces. When Cassie died, his world became so dark that I couldn't fix it, no matter how hard I tried. We eventually pulled ourselves together, put the pieces together but the wounds are still there in him. Nikki hasn't left her side for the most part. Noah almost didn't go back to London… I'm just praying Victoria's resilient enough to pull herself out of this. So, whatever you need to do is catch her attacker, by all means, go. I'm fine," she assures, getting up to walk over to the chair where his jacket is by the hook beside the door. She touches his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek.

Rey seizes the moment to hold her and be thankful it's not Sharon. It's not Sharon attacked. It's not Sharon stabbed in the dark. It's not Sharon bleeding out through her dress. "I love you," he whispers, into her hair. He says it again, "I love you," and pressing another to her head. Life turns on a dime and he wants to make sure Sharon knows.

Sharon smiles, eyes dancing. "I love you, too. Now, get out of here, Detective," she playfully says with a laugh while brandishing the remote. "I'll have Netflix to keep me company."

Rey shrugs on his jacket as Sharon makes herself comfortable on the couch.

He takes her hand, kisses the back of it, adjusts her favourite pink blanket and finally goes.

—

She absentmindedly stirs her white hot chocolate, staring at the swirling effect it produces. With a sigh, Izzy Marshall places the plastic stirrer in her mouth to sample if the honey is to her liking. It is. Victoria teases that she's a bumblebee in a past life: small, almost buzzing, but with a hell of a sting. How accurate, she recalls with laughing. Pretty astute. Victoria. She would be sitting across from her, sipping on her espresso. It's about that time where Izzy Fuentes Marshall leaves the law firm and Victoria leaves Newman Enterprises under the pretense of important meetings. Well, these morning coffee dates are important. Life gets so busy and it's been forever since a Friday night out with the girls at whatever spot comes recommended.

Izzy admits she's not doing well. Tati sleeping with her may have to do more to with her lack of tossing and turning than monsters in the closet. Victoria isn't going to die. She's too stubborn for that and a world without somebody like that shouldn't exist. But no, her friend isn't the type of lay down and die. But she hasn't been able to see her yet. She will. Maybe later today when she's psyching herself so when Izzy does see Victoria – who moves at lightning speed, squeezes the tasks of a million into one day and has a mind that races so quickly Izzy isn't going to catch up – in a medical induced stillness, it won't surprise her. Brian tells her it's normal. A medical induced coma so Victoria's body can heal.

Brian's not a trauma surgeon although she hears stories of having to be in the OR when circumstances become dire and it's between life and death. Brian is a cardiologist, yes, she marries a guy who fixes hearts – but Dr. Hastings is one of the best. If anyone can patch her up, it's him. Izzy runs a hand through her curls and swears. She can't cry anymore today and her lower back is killing her.

A plate with a chocolate chip muffin in the center comes into her line of vision. She looks at the muffin, and then at the one who delivers it. Brian with his half-smile, deep green eyes and his brown hair which looks auburn sometimes. He sits across her and take her hand, surprised at how badly she's shaking. Izzy tries to get to the hospital, looks for her husband, and then almost makes it to ICU before she hits the close button of the silver elevator.

She exhales taking her hand back. "Either you tell me this partly my fault, or you wasted a trip."

Brian looks at her, leaning back in his chair with a surveying glance as if to question the statement. But it makes sense. Of all the dresses of all the colours, why on Earth does she suggest Victoria go with the white one with the thigh high slit. There's an emerald green backless alternative. White. Why white?

He blinks at her, confused. "Please tell me how on Earth Victoria's attack is your fault?"

"I suggested she wear the white dress. The one she was stabbed in. I can't believe I did that!" she cries, blaming it on the influx of hormones and the glaring truth that an attempt at ironic humor goes south and she's a horrible friend. She's pregnant again for the fourth time. Of course, Izzy is happy and Brian marvels at having another infant in the house. Their fifth child after Corinne, twins Jesse and Gwen and Tatianna. Eight months pregnant with the gender unknown as of yet. Still. She can give birth any time from now, although she prefers her due date six weeks from now. A spring baby. "Jesus, Brian. Reed's father is in jail and his mother is hanging between life and death. Johnny and Katie…" her voice catches. "Those kids are so young and must be wondering why their mom didn't come home. White? Of the dresses—"

"Izzy…"

"Of all the colours…"

"Babe…"

"I'm fucking trash at humor."

"Elizabeth!"

"What, Brian?"

She glares at him through teary eyed glare she doesn't maintain for long when he holds her hand from across the table. "Look, Izzy, I know you're worried. I know having Tatianna in bed with us has more to do with you than her, but this isn't good for the baby. I need you healthy. Victoria would say the same," he stands up and pulls her up, hugging her and feels the baby's kicking. Maybe that's a hand. He smiles, rubbing her shoulders. "See? The baby thinks so too. So, stop blaming yourself. Nobody does. This was set off by a set of circumstances that ended up with an innocent woman caught in the crossfire."

She sighs, and feels a prick of sympathy. "Billy feels terrible and everyone blames him… Thea's gone on what I'm assuming to be a one woman hunt for Ripley Turner because she doesn't trust her own department. I haven't heard or seen her all day, and well, Eleanor," she trails off. "She's not taking this in the best way. How do I prepare for a legal defense for somebody who has outright killed someone and owned up to it? Eleanor's not insane, just out for blood. She'll bury this man at the bottom of a lake…"

Brian furrows a brow. "Surely, Eleanor's…not serious."

"Dismembering him is a possibility," she shoots him a deadpan look. "We both know she means it."

"We'll talk about why you get along with a murderous politician's wife another time. There's just… so much to unpack there. I'm sorry everyone blames Billy, himself included, but his guilt is his cross to bear. That's something he's got to come to terms with. Forgive my callousness, but I don't care. I care about you. The best thing you can do is go see Victoria, and let her know you're thinking of her. Medically, it was touch and go because of the seriousness of her injury and the blood loss, but she's young and healthy. She's strong, and has a bunch of people to love and support her through whatever comes next in her recovery. Things like familiar voices, music, just good energy… it'll help her. There are proven research studies. I'm a man of science, but…" he glances down, and touches the round curve of her abdomen. "Miracles happen every day, big and small."

"I know. I'm not worried about Victoria physically. I'm worried about the inside stuff. Her mental health. The trauma this will cause when she has other wounds. I mean, there's the misconception because Victoria is characterized as strong, she can't break. I see strong mothers break every day because they don't know where the next paycheque will come from or because what they've gone so long struggling to keep her head above water. I see students with dreams leave school because you have the one teacher tells them to pull themselves up by the bootstraps when all they want is care, and for someone to understand," Izzy continues. "She hasn't healed from JT but she's rallied with everything inside of her to continue. I can't count the number of times she's cried on our couch only to profusely apologize. Who the hell apologizes for being human? I'm just worried this attack will break Victoria deeply in a place that can't be fixed. All because she went to a party."

Brian kisses her hand, and wipes away the tears sparkling in her eyes with the pads of his thumb.

Out of her peripheral vision, she spies Billy walk in, place an order before retreating to a booth in the back. It's like he doesn't want to be seen. She swats Brian lightly in the chest and silently tells him to follow her glance. "I'll be behind you," she kisses him. "I love you."

Brian glances at Billy, and then at his wife. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"Okay, I'll meet you there. I was about to finally meet Nate. He wanted to consult with me on something…" Brian grows quiet, and shrugs. "It's probably preliminary. Okay," he kisses her cheek and stares at her. "Before I go, I have a hypothetical question… let's say… he was to turn up missing because oh, Eleanor cut his brakes or shoved him into a pit of wild dogs, and you could save him – would you?"

Izzy glances at Brian and then Billy, who receives his order before the barista goes off and cleans up her table. The chocolate chip muffin remains uneaten because it's not what she's craving right now. Billy's stares into his coffee, physically there but his mind far off. It's clear the guilt is choking him and of course, he wishes it's him in the path of Ripley Turner's blade. She glances back at her husband, and the question has lost its humorous context but it is serious now. She finally answers after careful deliberation, "I guess, it would depend on how destructive he is, and if him being mauled to death now means everyone else is safe in the long-term. But," she pushes down the beginnings of a warmth underneath her skin, a vision of red in her peripheral sight, "Victoria isn't safe from him emotionally, but it's time he knows that if she doesn't get to live in peace and have a life, Billy Abbott sure as hell doesn't get the right to. That's how justice works. There's always balance. That's why lady justice carries a scale."

"Do you know something I don't?"

Izzy shrugs, hand resting comfortably on her big baby bump. "She told me things. Has some directives in places. Really boring legal stuff. Things within the realm of attorney-client context, sure, so I can't break Victoria's confidence or attorney-client privilege. Not even for you, my love," she mimes, zipping her lips. Her baby stretches within her, movements like a dancer or a martial arts artist. Maybe the music heard is her heartbeat and her child's enemy seems to be her bladder. She sighs, staring into Brian's hazel eyes. The eyes Jesse and Gwen both inherit. Brian's fingers, part of the hands of a healer, intertwine themselves in her hair. "Wow. Did you just stall me long enough so I didn't fight him and make me calm down?"

"Yes. Because I know you. You have that look in your eye. I admire it and fear it. I dated and married a Concrete Jungle bred lioness with the deceiving disposition of a warm, affectionate house cat. Communication – we promised we'd always be open with each other. With our words, and with this," he says, with a chuckle and kisses her.

Izzy smiles, against his mouth, kissing him back. "Mmm," another one and yes, she's making out with her husband in the middle of a public coffeehouse. "Concrete Jungle bred… That's good."

"Yeah?"

Izzy pulls away, flustered. "Yes. Very witty," she giggles. "Stop that. I need to go see Victoria, and…" she takes his hand in hers, intertwines the fingers. "…we can make a pit stop to see Dr. Ali first. I know you've wanted to know the gender, so let's find out. Corrine was not an easy pregnancy, and now, our little girl is an adult. I nearly drove myself crazy with not knowing whether Tati wasn't a boy or girl. Gwen was always there, but Jesse was our little stowaway. This little guy or girl… well, we're veterans at this. Maybe this pregnancy will actually be a normal one…?"

"…and maybe going to legal war in the name of sisterhood should be aborted."

"Tabled," Izzy corrected, with a finger. He grabs her hand and kisses the tip of her finger.

"Yes. Fine. Tabled…" Brian takes her hand and it reminded Izzy of its warmth. The same kind of warmth that been underneath his skin, and shines out through his eyes. Hazel like the sunrise of a fall morning. Izzy gazes at him and marvels. How does he grow up in the same state as her, three hours in Greenwich Village only to never met to never meet until a party both of them find themselves at by circumstances? She's the gregarious, law school student from Brooklyn on the dance floor all night and he's the middle-class Jewish kid in the background, holding the attention of a group of scholars debating medical things. She's slightly drunk when she accidentally bumps into him. She profusely apologizes, she recalls, slurring her words. Brian with his easygoing demeanour, his New York accent lighter than hers, tells her it's okay and they don't stop talking since. Izzy runs a hand through emerging salt and paper by the hair by his temples. "Let's go."

Izzy put on her jacket, steals Brian's scarf just because of his smell and they walk out together. She knows how immensely lucky she is, that not everybody in this town can make it work and build healthy relationships with an even balance of wars and concessions. Izzy's relationship with Brian is not perfect, not roses and rainbows and certainly, not always a dream. But here they are together, pregnant with a child who will make their medium-sized family of seven complete, and her heart full.

She only wishes that kind of fulfillment for Victoria, whatever forms that takes. Brian's right, she realizes, stealing a final glance at this dejected man watching the world go by without him not fighting to rejoin it.

The burden of culpability does fall on those shoulders. If Billy crumbles under the weight, then it's his own affair. He's not looking so emancipated anymore, it seems, and that looks like justice enough for now. Anything else incoming Billy's way can't come soon enough.

Authenticity, my ass.

—

"Billy Abbott. Amanda Sinclair. Any move they make, you will inform me immediately. Pictures, recordings. Dates, times, locations. I will be appraised. Billy is persona non grata for now, but Ms. Sinclair, she seems to have formed other friendships? Who's been with her in the aftermath of this?"

Sebastian speaks up. "Phyllis Summers," he moves his jacket, revealing a discreetly hidden weapon, loaded with hollow point bullets. Hollow points are her favourite kind. They do damage upon entry, but expand on the inside like a flower that blooms beneath the soil instead of above it. He stares at her with cold slate grey eyes. "If she'll be a problem, I can personally see to it that she doesn't."

It's tempting, but she's the mother of a Newman. It's too messy, and if her contact at Memorial is correct, Phyllis may be handled with another kind of bullet. But one nuisance at a time.

"That will be at my discretion, but your initiative is much appreciated."

Sebastian nods and moves his jacket back. "Of course."

She glances at Xavier with a raised brow. "Do you wish to voice anything?"

He blinks, surprise crossing his face and then disappearing. "Uh, no… Mrs. Sterling. Not at this time. The original orders will suffice."

Eleanor continues, "Very well then. Are they understood? I hate repeating myself."

The two guards nod, say nothing because they know her well enough by now. Sebastian and Xavier are discrete when needed. They are alleged murders, rumored attempted ones and corporate disasters here and there. Surely, not on her orders. But either way, they work for her, not her husband. They move out of the foyer like shadows into the winter night. Eleanor waits for the door to close before she picks up her favourite Merlot and downs the whole glass in a couple gulps. Her phone buzzes and she slides the phone screen with a finger and answers it. Listening, she's intrigued. Mildly amused, but feels like she has a weapon at the ready. It's the reward of waiting and never exposing one's whole game plan to a world, waiting to render it useless. The caller tells what she needs to know, and she can't hold back the smirk makes her lip curl with satisfaction and the feeling that it's game over.

"Well," she pretends to ponder this information because the first lady of the state truly cares about its citizens. Eleanor Forsythe, however, does not care about most people. Victoria Newman is not most people, "thank you for informing me. Wisconsin will be safer for it." A pause. Genuine sadness. "Yes, Ripley Turner will face justice. Like any other citizen, Ms. Newman and her family deserves that. Anything else is unacceptable. Thank you, again, Mayor Finley. It's nice that political allies can work together."

"We're not allies."

"It saddens me that it's your inclination to feel such."

"I did what you asked, Eleanor. Endorse me in the next election. That was the deal."

"What? I didn't ask anything of you, Mayor. Just this follow up call which is much appreciated. The Newmans will be just as appreciative," she replies, purposely aloof. The man is terrified of his job – that people won't find the incumbent idiot so appealing anymore. Not when Nicholas Newman's philanthropy, pedigree, quite impressive work with the vulnerable population of Genoa City, and his good looks is a threat for the mayoralty.

"Wait. We're not done—"

"It's late," Eleanor says, tone clipped.

"Damnit, I had my people give you what you wanted. I compromised myself! The information's legitimate. Please," the mayor switches to a hurried, almost pleading tone. "Don't you fucking screw me over and endorse that privileged, empty headed piece of—"

"Rest well, Mayor Finley," she says, as cordially as she can before hanging up. She tosses her phone on the glass table with a slight clack, looking at the phone in distaste. Eleanor will slit that man's throat with her great-great-great grandfather's dagger one day. Giles Forsythe, 12th Earl of Bridgewater is a blood thirsty man who kills his pregnant wife and throws her body into the canal of the ancestral property. According to the family legend, the woman's body floats away with the unborn child long dead in her womb, her blood turning the waters red. No matter. It's all lore, passed down the bloodline and manipulated differently every time, it seems. Eleanor muses to herself, smiling to herself. "Hmm. A plea deal on an attempted hit-and-run that was contingent on therapy and a still unknown revenge romp with Victoria's niece. Interesting."

Eleanor is in the mood for another drink. After all, it's a celebration of Billy's whole life suddenly falling into her hands and Victoria recovering hers at the same time.

She wins. Like she always does in the end.

—

If it all goes to plan, the security cameras should be out of working order. Malfunction. One of those moments when you love technology, but they don't love you back. They roll their eyes at how overrated this place is. The Grand Phoenix is secure, but a bird's wings can be clipped off if done right. It's tight and hats off to Phyllis for the encrypted software, and the complicated passageways. She's good, but they're better.

A short window of time and just enough strength in a sleeper hold to knock this damn cop out. Enough to cut off oxygen to the brain causing lack of consciousness, but not death. That's not the objective. They want to create the illusion of murder. Not murder itself. The cop's scream is silenced before it can be released and they drag her to a hallway closet, locking it from the outside. They're a shadow. A phantom doing what is right.

A short window of time to deftly pick the woman's lock and get into her hotel room. They bend, working the tools in the keyhole and twisting them just so before the proverbial click grants them access. A leather gloved hand twists the doorknob and they step in, shutting the door quietly. This won't take long. Not much has to be done, really. Just enough to get the message across. An anger sparks at the stillness of this room, but they stuff down quickly. The anger is misplaced. Be objective. Be quick, they tell themselves. Create the worst psychological nightmare in the shortest amount of time.

They sweep over the room quickly with their eyes, aware of the hourglass in her mind and the feel of cool metal of a gun complete with screwed on silencer against their back. They reach into their pocket and retrieves a hollow point bullet. Silver body with a copper tip. They flip drawers open, scatters her clothes all over the room until their eyes land on a white blouse in her closet among the others. They pull miscellaneous garments of their hangers and drop them, break a pair of expensive shoes by the heel before going into the pocket of their leather jacket of the pièce de résistance – a type written note. One done on an old typewriter, easily dismantled.

The white blouse becomes strips of white material and they leave the folded note, bullet upright beside it. They open the door, close it just as quietly as if with wind. Quick feet leave the hotel through the stairs that seem endless before meeting the exit door. Of course, it's tied up with chains. How amateurish.

"Shit."

Even with a silencer, the gun will draw too much attention – rather, the shell casings will. There's already a bullet upstairs. Best not push it and leave more. They examine the chain with the heavy-duty lock. They step back and then run at half speed, putting all the force on their dominant foot and kicking it until the chain splits in two. Quickly, they unwrap the chain and push the door and leave.

They run all on a secluded path they remember because cars will be a hindrance and people offering to help may force them to shoot an innocent bystander for being decent. The cold actually helps. Helps make them more aware of space and distance than usual. All it takes is a climb over a back fence before they walk briskly up a hill on a grand property, a grand manor house in the distance. They twist the knob and close it, and finally exhale against the door. Only then is Stephanie Sterling aware of her heart hammering in her chest and how badly she need a smoke.

—

She takes off her leather gloves, throws them on the center table of her lair, and then pulls down her hood revealing hair, dyed a dark plum purple colour. She pulls the firearm from behind her back and quickly puts it back in the safe, masquerading as a framed photo of a black and red horror inspired abstract art. People are scared to stare at it much less question why there's a gun behind a painting anywhere. It's a monster with claws and fangs that blend into the scenery, but is ready to jump out to cause carnage all because of a trick of the eye.

He just has to lay low for a few days. Her mother knows he's here. She's fine with it and doesn't care enough to tell, or care at all. Besides, Stephanie knows, in her own way, her mother is not the picture of rationale in crisis. Friendship, loyalty and vengeance all bleed together and she's the middle baby tasked with juggling it all. Eleanor Forsythe doesn't know what a happy medium is. It's just cold indifference on one end and soul-shattering retribution on the other. Stephanie sees it, unwittingly learns at her mother's knee and sees the consequences.

Stephanie Sterling grabs her phone from the table beside the leather gloves. No messages. She peels off her boots, stepping out of them tossing them by the door of her guesthouse. She's not about living room cleanliness, the décor the same as her high school hangout. She drapes her leather jacket over the single living room chair and then takes the stair case two at a time to find him.

Her room in the renovated guesthouse is both sleek and modern but old gothic charm. Walls with white, black and dark red motifs. A chandelier of onyx and diamonds against regular lights. Her walls carry picture and things of people she loves and the recesses of a mind not many people journey into. The atmosphere of the room makes it seem as if she comes home to a warm fire, or a raging fire of the underworld on the River Styx. Fitting, Mother, Stephanie thinks with a light smirk. She hops a discarded pair of leather ankle boots, and then gets to the bed to her visitor. He takes a drag of a joint, releasing a stream of smoke and offers it to her.

Stephanie looks at him, and takes it, lounging out on her bed. He turns to look her, blue eyes glassy yet curious. But he knows. He knows best and she hates that sometimes.

"You actually went through with it."

"Mhm," she answers, taking a hit. She holds it in her lungs, lets it settle and then releases it. "Easiest shit ever," she confirms, resting her head against his shoulder. "Your hoodie's soft, dude. I can live with all this. Can you though? Like, are you going to wake up tomorrow with some sense of guilt I have to take you out of?"

There's silence, and then his answer.

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "My mom's in a coma. I'm going to do whatever I want to Billy's new girlfriend because the wrong one was stabbed. Billy's new…girlfriend has a dangerous ex and can't even stab his target?" he sighs and swears under his breath. "I'm just tired of this bullshit notion that nobody can be angry about this. I am."

Steph takes a final hit before putting it out on the cover of her journal in her side table drawer. Nothing to worry about. Her father is plotting state-wide domination while her mother wants to rule the world. Her siblings have different lives from her while she's preoccupied with the dead. She lifts her head and surveys him. She doesn't care who she hurts because in hindsight, Amanda Sinclair is nothing to her and will continue to be nothing. However, Reed will always be something to her.

"Besides," Reed adds, tone faraway but edgy. Anger will come later. She knows Reed and his temper well enough. She saves him from it in high school. She appreciates it more in college – her at Harvard, him at Berklee only a 10 minute drive away. He writes deep ground music with it and it's a more righteous kind of temper. If Reed is pissed off, there's a reason for it. "I'll make sure he suffers."

"You're way too stoned to plot anyone's pain and suffering," she says lazily, rolling her eyes.

"No, I'm not. I'll kill him."

She lifts her head and immediately, grabs his face toward her face with one hand just get his attention and confirm this isn't a dark mood that comes and goes in between grief. This is different. Steph stares at him, her blue eyes piercing but somewhat soft. Not enough to see the simmering rage in his eyes even as stoned as they both are.

She slaps him across the face. Or, slaps whatever homicidal tendencies want to appear and linger. That's not him. Steph has enough people that linger between delusional, twisted, and demented in her life. On some level, she is too. Steph is legitimately comfortable with dissecting a cadaver on a slab of metal. She can examine the empty, hollow eyes of an actual person who is complex with a rich story of love, loss and a family who teeters between both, and determine strangulation before the ligature marks confirm it. Stephanie can see the stab wounds spread out from head to toe, count them and determine the fatal ones. Maybe the one by the jugular. Maybe the one by the heart with the aorta runs. Maybe a defensive one seals this person's fate.

Stephanie looks at Reed and sees a shining black pistol in his hand or a rope wrapped around his hands just stretched enough.

"Okay. What the fuck was that?"

Stephanie narrows her sharp, light blue eyes, "You don't have that in you. You're not a killer."

"Scared I'll go through with it?"

Stephanie sighs, exasperated. "You want Amanda Sinclair scared? She will be. You want her looking over her shoulder? It's done. I don't even to tell you all the ways my mom will put her in all circles of hell and probably break her," she grabs his hands. "See, these hands? They're meant to make music. That shit makes you happy. Not happy for a while," she softens just a bit. "That permanent shit, Reed. If you take a life, it'll change you."

He stares at her like she doesn't understand, a small smirk on his face, sadness in his eyes. "My grandfather is one of the best people in the world, one of the closet people who could understand the stuff with my dad. Grandpa Tom went to sleep and died, just like that. My dad is in jail for four counts of attempt murder and is dealing with bipolar 2. My mom could die… so I've already changed," he shrugs, almost resigned. "I have musical talent. I'm a good kid. I'm a good big brother. I'm a great son and I have my shit together. I'm serious with my music and my music… according to everyone else. But…" he plays with her hair, tucks a lock of it back behind a multiply-pierced ear. "…I have dark shit inside of me, too. It's taken a year but I can co-exist with them. I just have to push this far back enough to be the Reed my family needs, and be DJ, Becca, Johnny and Katie's big brother. You know, the guy who won't stomp on Billy's head and make his brain matter come out of his ear."

Blunt force trauma to the head doesn't become fatal that way, but Steph will let him have it.

"If this had happened a year ago, I would have grabbed my baseball bat and beat the shit out of Billy's car. I'm not doing that."

"You care about him."

"Cared," Reed emphasizes. "Past tense."

"I did this for the little ones. Johnny and Katie need their world stable," she confesses plainly, distant from her sense of remorse. "The lawyer doesn't do that for them. I did this for my mother because she'll have Amanda Sinclair killed otherwise, although I don't think it will matter either way. In her own way, she values your mother's friendship, and my mother does not do well when she loses things or people she values or remotely likes. The possibility of it pushes her into an even darker place. Makes her almost feral which means she's already dangerous and no one can really stop her," Steph lets a moment pass before continuing. "I did this for you too," she places a hand over his, the one that causes a warmth on her face. No, it's not a blush of any sort. She looks him directly in the eyes. "I did this for you. So, you wouldn't have to."

"That's cool of you, Steph. I like you, and you like me."

"So?"

"I didn't want to call out your blushing either. As your friend, I felt I had to."

Steph frowns and slaps his hands away, both irritated and flattered. "Ugh. Fuck you."

She shoves at his shoulder. He pulls her and tells her he's getting his hoodie back. Steph shakes her head and with all seriousness whispers against his mouth, her tone low with a natural raspy quality, "Not a fucking chance, Hellstrom," against his lips before she kisses him and he returns it with just as much intensity. Reed isn't her boyfriend and she isn't his girlfriend. Realistically, they're eighteen-year-old college kids who will be drawn to other people. That's how human attraction works. But Steph now knows that in theory and in practice, Reed is the only person she has sex with in whatever context, and it won't get weird. Guys and girls just can't be friends, but then again, they're the outliers. The misfits.

She's at Harvard with the long-term goal of being a coroner – listening to the stories of the dearly departed – while he has dreams of fame and musical acclaim. She is sure they will lead very different lives, but it's like she's the moon and he's the sun. They're in the same orbit, but appearing at different and never quite together.

Every few years, there's that phenomenon where a lunar and solar eclipses occur so brightly, it's not safe for the naked eye but awe-inducing. For a brief moment, silvery lunar light and solar flares intertwine until the sky breaks apart and so do they.

—

"Hey."

"What?" Reed whispers, running a thumb over her back where her carpe noctem tattoo is. He has one on his wrist etched in his grandfather's – his dad's father – cursive hand with the words, "The Show Must Go On". Her hand traces his side where the matching carpe diem tattoo rests and is etched into his skin. She lifts her head, pushes back a curtain of dark purple back to meet his eyes.

"I may like you, too," she says, softly and kisses him. "Say that out loud and I'll hurt you," she narrows her eyes. "Not one song lyric."

Reed laughs, and run a thumb over her bottom lip. "Not. One. Song. Lyric," he repeats, making her blush for the infinite amount of time in this moment. Stephanie will deny that too.

"Asshole," she mutters with a hidden, yet satisfied smile.

Steph rests her head against on his chest, her legs intertwined with his.

---

5.

Thea isn't used to be being home during the day, or early in the evening. She's still expecting to be called or radioed in because there's always something illegal going down in Genoa City. Genoa City at night carries a fatal kind of energy. There's about something about the darkness of night that illuminate the worst of the human condition. There's something about shadows that make people tap into the worst parts of themselves and she isn't immune. She can just manage it more. Angry and annoyance is her natural setting and when she cannot directly lie. Hers is indifference. Cool indifference that says she doesn't care what happens to the other person. She can receive news of Dwayne's death and be there for Louis and Mona, but she knows herself. She'll react with relief-induced laughter instead of the nostalgic tears of an ex-wife who remembers that it's not all bad.

Derek prepares a meal of chilli for her, is available to help Mona with her homework while getting to know her and she really does like him. It makes her happy. She certainly isn't used to having to sit on a couch being the recipient of a foot rub Thea certainly needs and welcomes. She closes her eyes and lets herself enjoy the sensation of Derek working his thumbs into her arches. That…feels amazing. Almost as good as sex. Derek works to save the lives of others as a seasoned paramedic while she runs into danger. Their year long relationship is a process of two people meeting by accident. She finds him attractive, and being from the south, Derek's gentlemanly demeanour appeals to her. He's from a large family like her and also her, has two children from a previous relationship that doesn't end as explosively as hers. Bennett and Lela are wonderful kids and she doesn't have any issues with Derek's ex-wife. In fact, Clarisse is really nice to her.

Thea's relationship with Derek is a journey of understanding the other's quirks and pet peeves, of innate flaws and perfections that work. Derek is learning to fight against the grain and Thea is learning to compromise and pick her battles especially when the war ahead is just as fruitless. Thea Campbell is a towering volcano that simmers before she erupts even though it does get shit done while Derek is cool under pressure.

Thea tells him all about Ripley, Victoria's stabbing – even though he's aware of it and her injuries because paramedics talk – all about Ripley, Eva, and their younger in between, Billy and Amanda and how in the end, it's Victoria paying with a currency that is too damn high. She's been through so much in such a short amount of time, and it seems endless. She's one of the smartest people I know, but put someone as poisonous as Billy in her orbit, and it's like she loses all sense. I just spent hours listening to a woman who suffered horrendous domestic abuse. Victoria has suffered just the same. It's just senseless and infuriating.

She tells Derek she spends the whole two-hour drive back, confiding her fears to a God she knows exist as the daughter and granddaughter of a minister. God won't allow an innocent woman to die and leave her three children behind. Of course, he's not so cruel to have Nikki and Victor lose their daughter. Nick is his sister's keeper, her protector even though she doesn't need one, and it makes Thea ill to think he can lose her. If a world without Victoria Newman becomes a reality, then what is her belief system all these years? Then Thea might as well be an atheist and live with no religion.

Thea sighs, weary in Derek's arms. His heart beats in her ears and she's grateful for his safety even though he knows the risks and loves his job. He holds her from behind, and she absentmindedly touches his forearm. The skin is a chocolate tone and soft. Her eyes travel to the drawer upstairs. She recalled the night he proposes.

At first, she laughs and thinks it's a joke until Derek pulls out a black velvet box with a ring with a stunning pear-shaped rock. It glints at her, the band covered with smaller stones. It's a beautiful piece of jewelry and of course, she wants to say yes. How can she not? But then old ghosts come by, old scars become raw again. The last time she becomes someone's wife, she's young and impressionable. She has two children and is in a marriage and that has in the eye of a storm she is normalized to after a while. With time, Dwayne hardens her and forces her to be militant. Always waiting. Always bristling. Always that little girl learning to fight. Always the angry teenager where the streets and the church are extracurricular activities with conflicting ideas. In Derek, she learns what to means to rest and stand still. She learns what it means to uncurl the fists that do so on their own out of instinct. If she's an erupting volcano, Derek is the calm stream. Time is short. Life is even shorter. She can walk into a raid and die in the line of duty tomorrow without ever telling her children how much she loves them, how much she wants to see Zahra grow up and find her place in the world, and how much she wants to be Mrs. Derek Ramsay (read: Detective Dorothea Campbell-Ramsey, really).

She turns around to look at him with tears welling up in her eyes, and Derek's eyes are full of concern. "Hey, Victoria's injuries are serious, but she ain't dead, baby," he reassures, his slight Southern accent coming through. She touches his strong jaw, facial hair and all.

"Nah. Of course not, and thank God," she shakes her head. "I mean, yeah… she's my friend. Her children are family to me and no matter what, I got 'em. But I don't want to talk to you about that," she glances down, readies herself and then looks at him again. Thea positions herself so she sits upright and holds both of his hands in hers, silver Rolex bright under her house lights. "You asked me a question two weeks ago, and I said I needed time. Wasn't a yes, or no. Just a hold on let me think about it type answer. Well," she offers a smile, "I've thought about it."

"Yeah?" Derek questions expectantly.

Thea nods, and laughs, "Mhm. I wanna wake up next to you when we come home from hard days. I want to watch you walk around the house in your wave cap and Dallas Cowboys jersey. I want to cook with you and show you that my mac and cheese trumps your collard greens any day."

"I love you enough to let you have that lie, Thea."

"I know. But it's the truth. I want you to continue loving my daughter like she's yours and getting to know Louis, Ava and the cutest grandbaby I ever knew. I can handle shit myself. you know that… but it's nice to know I come home to a man that's got me. Has my back and has such a gentle, sweet soul, I wonder how I got so damn lucky," she sniffles, and her voice cracks. "Thank you for getting to know me and still deciding that my nutty ass was worth the trouble. For so long, I had thought being someone's wife was done for me – that I was just content with being a mother and grandmother. Or, being a dedicated detective… but you know God is tricky. I am content. Being a mother and grandmother is everything to me. We make all these plans and he flips 'em to be something else," a tear streaks down her face and Derek wipes it. "I don't ever wanna live this world without telling you how much I love you, how grateful I am that you took a chance on a woman who stupidly turned down a date with you…five times."

"Can you believe she curved me like this?" Derek feigns surprise.

Thea plays along. "The nerve of her, right? But," she holds his face between her hands, his eyes shining with unshed tears himself, and softens, "I have it on good authority that she accepts," she declares, nodding. She answers it again, a confirmation of forever and always. "I love you, Derek Clarence Ramsey and I would be honoured to be your wife and marry you… that is, if you'll still have me."

"Yes," Derek kisses her once. "Hell yes," he kisses her again, longer and lingering than the first. "Absolutely, yes!" he kisses her and sweeps her up in his arms, and twirls her once before setting her down. He smiles fully, and brilliantly. "I'm about to marry your ass. For real. Okay," he separates from her. "Don't move. I'mma put that ring on you properly. Stay."

"I'm not going nowhere," she laughs as he goes upstairs two at a time. Thea watches until he disappears, realizing Mona isn't home. She's at a sleepover with Gracie, a friend from school so it's easier to head to track practice in the morning. But she makes a note to grab her phone and text her daughter the good news. Mona texts with a thank god but congrats mama. derek's cool. love you, completed with kissing face emoji. She's about to text back when her phone vibrates with a call. She answers, as politely as possible, but the annoyance can't help but creep in. "Yes, Chief?"

"We need you down here, Thea."

Thea rolls her eyes, "I'm taking the day off like you suggested. I'm going to see Victoria at Memorial later."

"It's nice to know that you listened after you went behind my back and conducted a whole interrogation without my go-ahead. In any case," he relents as if weighing the pros and cons, "we were able to verify everything with Ripley's ex-wife and it checks out. Because you put the entire state on alert, I felt it was necessary to tell you Ripley Turner was apprehended at a truck stop."

"Was he coming or going?" Thea knows this man is dangerous and can only head in two directions – either toward Eva and Clementine, the family he leaves behind or toward Amanda, the one he tries to kill if he can't reconcile with her.

"Coming. Headed toward Genoa City," Chief Williams confirms, while she feels a flood of relief. She's right. She's actually right. It takes a two-hour trip to light a fire under this department's ass. She sighs, a pressure in her head. Thea still doesn't trust this police department and it's sad that the intuition that never steers her wrong is telling her to leave. Maybe go for a promotion on a federal level, still within the state of Wisconsin. She's getting married. Why not start a new chapter professionally too?

"Are you telling me I was right?"

"It doesn't make breaking protocol okay."

Thea shrugs, "Refer me to Internal Affairs, or let me go back to my evening. Look, I'm glad this guy is off the streets. He will be for a very long time. But I'm not coming down there. I just got engaged tonight, Paul," she reveals, seriously. "I want my dues and you can name drop me when you call your press conference announcing this, but my mind is on Victoria right now. My mind is on Ms. Blake and her young child and I have a fiancé now."

Paul grows quiet. "Fine. You're not in trouble. You were instrumental in this arrest. I'll give you credit on one condition."

"I should get credit regardless, so I'm not hearing your condition."

"Thea, I'm going to be very clear with you. While Ripley was being arrested, someone broke into Amanda Sinclair's hotel room at the Grand Phoenix, damaged her belongings, and left a hollow point bullet and a note behind to threaten her. Whoever did this made sure to leave nothing behind. There is no camera footage Kevin can dig up, and they knocked Daley out with a sleeper hold."

Thea is genuinely surprised. "Daley…is one of the strongest guys we have. How…?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

"I know you and Victoria are close. I know you carry some resentment toward Billy, and blame him for her attack and some of that blame has transferred over to Amanda as well."

Thea says honestly with a slight deadpan, "No. I didn't trash this woman's hotel room."

"I wasn't blaming you."

She quirks an eyebrow, "It was implied. I don't have the motive. Surely, don't have the means. I've been here with my fiancé the majority of the day after coming back from Wisconsin Dells. I don't like Billy Abbott. That's no secret. I'm telling you straight up that I don't care what happens to him as person. As a police officer, I have to care. But my motive isn't there and I don't know Amanda like that. Lots of people blame him. A lot of blame rests with Amanda for bringing her abusive ex into Victoria's world. I'm furious but it wasn't me."

"I know. I hated asking but I just had to be sure."

"Okay. Anything else you need from me?"

"No. Rey's investigating this with Eddie."

"Alright, Chief."

"Goodnight, Thea," Paul says, light-heartedly even though with the tension there. "Congratulations on the upcoming nuptials."

"Thank you."

Thea hangs up and her anger re-awakens itself. Then again, it never goes to sleep, does it?

—

Derek returns, slides the ring on her finger with a perfect fit.

She can't stop staring at him and she kisses him in gratitude, but her heart sinks. The police officer in her is sickened someone threatens Amanda with some macabre symbolism and prose. Clearly, the suspect is a writer. A very good one. However, the same part of her questions why Amanda should be surprised. The Newmans close ranks. An attack on one of them is an attack on them all. Victor Newman is a powerful man. He's a father who loves his daughter. Most parents would flip over burning cars to save their trapped children. This man would set someone's universe on fire and watch them burn alive in some kind of retribution. It's not surprising that Amanda Sinclair would have the full force of the Newman family on her head. Amanda deserves to have her sense of safety, but when they're done with Billy, Thea won't act shocked when she's the target of the Newman family's ire next.

"Hey, you good?"

"Yeah. This ring is gorgeous. You did good," she reassures him and then frowns. "But… the Chief just called. Ripley Turner was arrested as a direct result of my police work, so Chief Williams really couldn't be mad at me. However, someone broke into Amanda Sinclair's room at the Grand Phoenix and threatened her life. Left a bullet on her desk, broken her things…" she shakes her head. "She's the other woman. The one Ripley mistook Victoria for."

Derek blows out a breath. He's thinking through this. Assessing. Like he always does.

"Oh. You don't like Billy because he left your friend and their kids for her, right? Mistaken identity. Victoria gets knifed and all of a sudden, Amanda is caught in the same Newman crossfire because while she's a victim too, there's some blame on her shoulders…" Derek surmises before he looks at her seriously. "Well, from the perspective of just pure logic and having nothing to do with being a cop, do you have an idea as to who could have done this?"

It's not her.

Clearly, not Izzy. The woman is eight months pregnant and is the most level headed where Billy is concerned. Then there's Eleanor. Somewhere between friend and foe. The woman is her friend, yes, but Eleanor does not do well when things are about to change. If Victoria dies, it means Victoria is not around to fulfill their group of four. Thea is sure that regardless of legalities, Billy is halfway to being placed in a casket next to his daughter or being buried alive. Eleanor's sense of friendship and loyalty is different from hers. Very different and very dark. Thea is pretty sure her friend is a sociopath but then again, she's not a criminal profiler with the scope to make that diagnosis.

"I do," she sighs, with a confirming nod. She raises her eyes to Derek. "But I'm not the investigating officer on this and frankly, I just want to go see my friend. I haven't been there all day. I really haven't… I'm exhausted, and I haven't seen her all day…"

Thea feels Derek pull her in and presses a kiss to her head.

For reasons unknown, Thea finds herself crying and unable to stop.

"I got you," Derek soothes softly, rubbing her back as she sobs. "I got you…"

—

Hospitals are interesting places. It's where doctors are ghosts, where life and death happen one floor apart and those who linger in some kind of purgatory make their own fate or have it decided for them. Medicine is the same as law – careers full of law and logic, but sometimes, the odd medical anomaly happens and one ancient statute is implemented, changing the whole face of a case. She grins down at her belly while holding Brian's hand. She's been pregnant before but she knows her child. The baby isn't abstract. The newest member of their family is incoming any day now, more than she anticipated. The sonogram picture is another moment for Izzy to see her child with the strong heartbeat, healthy development and the way the baby seems to wave back at them to sucking a thumb and going to sleep in the comfortable world inside of her.

The silver doors of the elevators to the ICU open and Izzy scans around for one familiar Newman. She won't blame them if they're taking breaks, or resting at home. But being here feels intrusive otherwise. Brian starts to move toward the ICU desk but she catches Nick from far away and touches his arm.

"Hey," she says, looking up at him. She inclined her head over to the waiting area where she sees Nick's reclining form. Izzy looks closer and he appears to be asleep, exhaustion settling on his body like a blanket. "I think I see Nick over there."

"Oh," Brian follows her gaze. There's a crease in his brow. "Yeah. Okay. I'll get on that consult with Nate," he offers her a half-smile, rubbing her shoulders. "Smile. Today's a good day," he turns attention to her swollen abdomen, their child reacting to his voice and her laugh. "Alright, Little One, take care of your mama for me. Daddy has to go, but will be right back. I love you."

"Bye," he kisses her and they go separate directions.

Brian goes to that place where all heroes and miracle workers go while she goes to be one of many who wait, and pray. She walks into the waiting area, Victoria's room just down the hall where a guard stand by his post in a dark suit. Izzy sits next to Nick's sleeping form and gently touches his shoulder to wake him. He wakes slowly like Jesse and then sits up straighter expecting news, or a white coat, a nurse in scrubs, but she's sorry to disappoint. He blinks and rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand. It's like if he rubs hard enough, this is all a dream.

"Hi, Nick," she greets.

"Oh, hey Izzy," Nick greets, recognizing her. He's one of the good guys. A lot of people from New Hope works with her firm on cases that require advocacy and social justice rights on behalf on the underdog and the underprivileged. It doesn't hurt that he's a good dancer.

"That chair can't be comfy," Izzy looks down the hall and back at him. "Any change?"

"It's fine…well, as fine as can be expected," he reaches up, rubbing his neck. "As for Vick," he sighs, shaking his head, "there's no change. Medical induced coma. It's up to her body to do the work."

A pin prick of guilt hits her and it feels physical. "Sorry, I haven't been here. I wish I had a reason for it, but really…" she sighs, apologetic. If she can go back and ignore that white dress altogether… Victoria's white dress will haunt her for a long time like the ghost of the clinical depression with her since her adolescence, but closely monitored into adulthood. "I don't know. I told her to wear the white dress," she confesses. "I know it's not my fault. Victoria would have worn that dress, or something else altogether. It's the mistaken identity aspect that seems unfair…"

He tenses up in his chair, and looks away. "This whole thing is unfair."

Izzy offers a reassuring smile. "Your sister is too restless to be still for too long. She'll be back to helping me pick out baby names because I don't have one picked out yet," she says, recalling that list of names just last week. Boys and girl ones. Ones that honour her Dominican-American heritage and Brian's Jewish roots at the same time. "She'll be back to… trying to dance when she goes out with us."

Nick chuckles, "I love my sister, but she has no rhythm whatsoever," he laughs and so does she. She really doesn't, but the beauty of it is Victoria doesn't care. Nick softens towards her. "You're a good friend to her, Izzy. I'm telling you with certainty, that no one blames you for whatever dress choice she made that night. You shouldn't blame yourself either."

"That's kind of you to say."

"It's the truth."

Izzy thanks him before noting that he looks exhausted. She can see it up close now.

"Have you ate something or actually slept?"

"No. I'm not hungry, and I did sleep… in these comfortable chairs."

Izzy gestures at her swollen figure. "Pregnant lady here. Ready to pop any minute," she shifts her position as her baby starts its movement. This kid clearly wants to know what is happening, wants to be always part of the action. "You're going to have to sleep eventually. These chairs aren't…great."

Nick's face has a flash of concern. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, me? Yeah. I'm okay. Baby just doing swimming laps in here. I just had Lamaze classes and an ultrasound to finally find out the gender," she explains, with a grin. "I just figured I should swallow my fear of seeing Victoria comatose and see her. Let her know I'm thinking of her. Brian just went to go consult with Nate. I mean, as her brother, you should. Brian just wants to make sure her cardiac activity is okay. It most likely is, but it doesn't hurt to be thorough."

Nick exhales, "Thorough," he says, and then grows silent. "Sounds like Vick."

"Anyone been in with her?"

"My dad, but of course, he had to go," Nick answers, annoyance crossing his face. He rubs at his face, the tiredness seeping into his tone. "My mom is in there with her. Abby's been here. Adam a few times," he adds, muttering under his breath, "but he doesn't care about her… I'm going to grab some edible from cafeteria downstairs. Excuse me."

"Yes, of course."

Nick stands and wonders away from her. The silence between them stretches into an awkwardness that she can't get over. Then he walks away, turns a corner and then Izzy can't see him anymore. Nobody is saying it. Or, rather they all yell it into the universe, but she knows who they all blame. He doesn't drive the knife into her side but no matter how many ways she twists the Rubrik Cube of events in her mind, the pieces line up clearly and show her the culprit.

Like she tells Brian, Lady Justice carries the scales of justice in one hand, a gleaming sword in the other. She won't be denied.

—

Izzy reflects on her four older brothers and is grateful. She's happy her big brother, Hector, uproots his metropolitan, fast-paced life in New York to work with her at the newly christened Marshall & Fuentes law firm. Hector is sweet, but protective and there's no one she wants by her side. She wants to reassure Nick but sometimes, he's too wound up. Ricardo is like that. When her big brother is wound up and in the throes of his temper, reason and rationale go out the window. Izzy stands feeling the ache in her back more strongly. It's not bothersome because, according to Dr. Ali and Brian, it's just her pelvic floor preparing for childbirth. She's exercising within limits, and eating for two well enough.

Izzy winces as she stands, feeling the need to walk. She gets out her phone, trying Thea one more time. She knows better than to convince Eleanor to do anything. If she knows her well enough, Victoria has a mini forest of flowers in her room, a gift basket of Victoria's favourite things and discrete protection for Johnny and Katie. But it's not an if. It's a matter of fact because Eleanor does tell her all these things are indeed true right down to keeping Johnny and Katie's safety as "most paramount". Izzy digs into her purse, unlocks her phone and dials Thea's number.

She answers on the third ring.

"Where the hell have you been?" Izzy asks, exasperated. Honestly, she misses her friend and Eleanor is terrifying when she freezes out the world, retreated to that grand mansion.

"Wisconsin Dells with Ripley Turner's ex-wife."

Izzy is stunned, "His what?" she rubs at the sore space at the small of her back. "How?"

Thea answers, dismissively, and sounds almost weary. "Girl, I'll tell you later. Look, I just got home, ate and then had to swing up over to the Grand Phoenix for preliminary police work."

Izzy moves away to her own bubble of privacy and nearly whispers. "Spill."

"Investigation."

"Okay…"

Thea sighs and Izzy hears the jingling of key cars, "Investigation of the 'Amanda Sinclair's hotel room got trashed with a threat and side of property damage' kind. Chief questioned me because I don't like know He Who Won't Be Dragged At Least Today, but no. It wasn't me. I know it wasn't you. So, we're clear. I shouldn't even tell you, but I'm… I only know one person capable enough to leave a single bullet with a note that's being investigated as a death threat. Whoever did this was good. Elusive as hell. The kind of good only Eleanor hires…" Izzy hear her opening her car door, and then closing it. "Actually, no. I'm not focusing on him. Fuck him, truly. It's not my case," Thea changes the subject entirely. "I'll be there in ten. Something good actually happened and I want to tell you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Thea replies, sounding happy. "I'm in a genuinely good mood. Eleanor did something. It's not my case. Chief and Rey will update me later, but I think us being positive will be good for our girl. I think we just have to let the woman process this in her own…demented way."

"Even if it means she ruins a man's life? How can we be complicit in that?"

"Easy," Thea says, and Izzy imagines her shrugging. "Think about Johnny, Katie and Reed facing life with their mother. Think about your children and Brian facing life without you because of someone else's choices. I think about Louis and Mona without me and it's pretty damn easy for me to step back," the police officer explains, conviction in her logic. "I know… We're officers of the law, but if Billy is grown enough to show up at party drunk and uninvited just to put Victoria in this catastrophic situation, he can deal with whatever Eleanor and these Newmans do to him. I can care so much today. I'm choosing to care about Victoria. Speaking of whom, have you seen her yet?"

"No," Izzy sighs, shaking her head. "Nick just left for the cafeteria. The poor man is exhausted, and Nikki is in there with her. Victor was, but he's nowhere to be found right now."

"Good. Hang tight. I'll be there in 10. Just had to wrap up some loose ends. Frankly, I missed your ass. Sorry I fell off like that."

Izzy laughs with tears in her eyes. "No, it's okay," her voice cracks, and she imagines Victoria being amused at her crying even when happy and Thea's welcome bluntness. "I missed you too. I even miss…Victoria getting drunk quicker than any of us because she can't handle her liquor."

Thea answers with a groan and a laugh. "Ooh, girl. Do you remember that night we went to Allure and…Victoria got so drunk she dragged that poor bartender to hell because he cut her off and she yelled at him for oppressing her?"

"Oh, God…yes!" Izzy recalls, remembering the night that has Thea howl with laugh, her choking on her non-alcoholic drink – she's about 4 months pregnant at the time – and Eleanor cracking a rare smile behind her martini glass. "That bartender was nearly six-foot-three and this tiny woman was almost fought him in the name of…alcoholic oppression because it was a social injustice. She has to wake up, Thea. The trauma she'll face afterwards, she has bounce back from it, right?"

"Hey," Thea sounds sure. "She will. If she can prepare fight a bartender a foot taller than her, then a coma is nothing. Trust. This is Victoria Newman we're talking about."

Izzy taps into the infinite amount of optimism she's known for and believes that. She has to.

—

She leaves the hospital parking lot after leaving the Newman Ranch to return the half a million dollars Eva Blake turns down. It starts to feel a little heavy and a little bit like blood money. She weaves her way through the basement floor. Even being here looks pristine. The elevator to the main floors open and Thea presses the floor to the ICU. Of course, she tells Derek she's fine and to go home and sleep since he works the night beat. She will be fine, she tells herself looking at her new piece of jewelry. Thea smiles, anticipating being married and not just in a relationship because it's the right thing to do. Thea anticipates being someone's wife and partner and not just the baby mama slash pseudo-wife stuck on a rollercoaster she rides since 14.

Her stomach rolls in her as she glances upwards. The elevator is moving floor by floor, a smooth ride. But like all things perceived smooth, the elevator's sharp dings snaps her out of her reverie. Thea puts her hands in the pockets of her coat, her hands clenching inside as he steps in beside her.

"Thea."

She swears loudly, and punches the emergency stop button with the hand without the engagement ring. Thea turns to him and laughs, because his penchant for being where he isn't supposed to be is massive. Billy being where he isn't supposed to be is what causes this.

"Okay, no," she snaps. "Are you lost?"

"No," he snaps back with defiant eyes. "Victoria is the mother of my children. I have a right to see her and know how she is, so Detective, move," he goes for the red button and she deftly steps inside of it folding her arms. "Thea. Move."

"Did you just say you have rights? Because what you won't do is use those children as a way to worm your way in and act like you care now. Where was this energy when you left her and chose to chill in some dingy bar with someone else, huh?" she questions, almost shouting. Thea sees both Billy and Dwayne in the same space and it burns her. The only thing reminding her not to slap him is the fact that her badge is affixed to her hip with her service weapon. God forbid this man cry police brutality and on top judgmental attitude. Her heart races nonetheless with her blood boiling. She inhales to center herself. "I don't care what journey to authenticity you feel you're on because it's not that. Authentic," she sneers. "Being full of authentic poison is totally you, Billy."

"You don't know me!"

"I know the guy who left a woman confused and in the dark to have an emotional affair with another woman!" she volleys back. "And hey, I might as well may as well say it. You're worse than JT! Congratulations, you selfish ass bastard! You actually topped him!"

Holy shit. She wants to slap him.

"I didn't have the knife in my hands. I didn't stab her. I still see her blood on my hands and you know what? I've never put my hands on Victoria or any woman for that matter," he says, quietly with an angry simmer of offense. It's the only time she believes him.

"No. You didn't. You know why I said you were worse than JT? Because…at least when JT physically hurt her, shattered her confidence and then emotionally twisted her up in knots, she was clear on what was happening. She was scared to death he'd kill her, but she knew. She was aware. You?" she looks at him, up and down and swears she will never get the appeal behind Billy Abbott. But Dwayne would get along with him. "You chased her to Vegas, wore her down, asked her to marry you in some bullshit non-wedding… all of a sudden, she's suffocating and annoying to you? Adam came back. You're a grieving parent but you know, we all have our stuff. It's all you because it's your miserable ass world and one of the strongest, smartest people I know stumbles around in your darkness because you can't open that hole on your face and communicate?" she warns, hitting the red button to start the elevator again. She points a finger at him. "One of us has the badge here. Turn around. Go home. You're not seeing her. You don't get to worry, and hope with people who actually love her. Victoria may not mean anything to you, but she means everything to us."

The elevator dings. She's at the ICU floor with this guy she wants to shove down an elevator shaft, but she's a cop and murder is a crime. Murder may allegedly come easy to Eleanor but not her. Still, Billy needs to go away. She strides out of the elevator, Billy hot on her heels.

"She means everything to me, Thea. Don't ever question that."

"Bet you didn't tell Amanda that. You're even more garbage for dragging her into this, by the way. Does she mean everything to you or is Victoria tone deaf to your struggle – the shit you ultimately start yourself? Which is it, Billy?" she says with an edge in her tone. Dwayne tells his side pieces she doesn't understand him either until the language barrier in the marriage because too hard. Derek understands her without no effort at all. A touch. A glance. His smile and when she smiles and walks by with an extra swing in her hip and it's refreshing. Exciting. She wishes that for Victoria one day because this, too, has to pass.

"I'm going to see her."

"If you try, and these Newmans touch you, I swear on my kids… I won't intervene. I don't care about losing my badge! I'm more scared she will die because that is the reality of the situation here!" Thea yells, and then adds with a tremor in her voice she can't hide. Either she yells and continues the tirade, or she'll burst into tears again. "That's what you do. You drain people until there's nothing of them left! Leave. Home. Another gutter. Another bar to drag Victoria all over so you can cast yourself as troubled and deep… I don't care. Just…go," she rubs at her head. "Just you being in my space is draining."

Billy deflates, taking whatever she throws at him. He doesn't get to play the martyr. Not here. Not now. Not ever. I don't care. This is what you've wanted. You've wanted to rip me to pieces since I entered Victoria's life. But you need to deal with the fact that I am the father of her children. Johnny and Katie need to know."

"And those innocent children have family for that. That includes me. Her children are good. All three of them," she stops in her tracks, prompting Billy to do the same. "Now that it's come to me. If you think her family blaming you for Victoria's attack is bad, I don't know what the hell you will tell Reed because his father is in jail and his mother could die. Instead of pushing your way through another place where you don't belong, reflect on how you will face Reed because if God forbid, that boy loses his mother because you're an idiot, then I don't know. God help you."

—

Thea strides over to spot her colleague, standing by Victoria's door from the corner of her eye. Billy is like a fucking rash where Victoria's concerned. Well, more herpes and less tolerable. He meets her gaze and nods. Hennessy is known as the drill sergeant and one of the best when it comes to keeping things and people safe. She trusts him. Thea swats his broad shoulder to get his attention. His dark brown eyes, eyes of a hawk, sees her and he offers a familiar half-smile. Mona loves him and he's pretty soft for her. He has the disposition of a giant dinosaur, but is really a huggable teddy bear.

"Hey."

"Hey, Hennessy. See that guy hanging around?"

Hennessy cranes his neck to get a look to see Billy's black coat and his outline. "Yeah," he creases a brow and asks, his voice a natural low baritone, "what about him?"

"That's Billy Abbott. Keep him from Victoria's room. If he resists, place him under arrest for trespassing. That guy?" she inclines his head in the direction of a long hall and rolls her eyes. "Hospital security will remove him if nothing else."

"Oh. I arrested him at the Empty Glass for causing a disturbance," Hennessy recalls from memory. He never forgets an arrest or a face. "Got it, Campbell."

Thea smiles, but it slips when she catches a glimpse of Victoria hooked up to machines and her form so still. It's expected because yeah, she is comatose but she still can't believe it. It makes chasing down Eva and engineering Ripley Turner's arrest worth everything.

"Hey," Hennessy says, a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. "I know you're close. Sorry."

"Thanks," she touches his shoulder with her ring-free hand with warmth. She strides away, boots clicking against the white linoleum floor to a waiting room full of Newmans. Some linger around. Others sit around watching time unravel. She finds Victor and discreetly tells him Ripley has been arrested. The ex-wife is cooperative and without the need of his money so it's back at the Ranch safe. She greets Nikki with a warm hug mother to mother, finds a moment to acknowledge Adam and Chelsea, then check in with Abby and embrace Nick as two people as the brother and the longest best friend. Brian and Nate brief everyone on Victoria's condition which is as Izzy tells her on the phone, is preliminary. Something about cardiac this and that. She's not listening.

The family listens though. Thea takes her chance to step away from this Newman bubble – they make a show of united to push Billy out of it – to find Izzy. She takes a turn toward the nurse's station only to find her very pregnant friend, glowing and fresh from the bathroom.

They meet each other and hug. Maybe if they hug warmly and tightly each other just enough, Victoria will somehow feel it wherever she lingers. Maybe Eleanor will allow the darkness she's comfortable in to dissipate and allow clarity.

Ripley Turner is gone. Billy will leave Victoria alone, for now, and all the Newmans can do is wait. Thea hears her father's deep baritone tone in her mind. The one he uses when being lectured for being hot in the ass. Her father's eyes are intense, with disappointment in them but in with fatherly love in them all the time.

When are you going to be patient and be still? Be still, Dorothea.

Izzy pulls away and grabs her hand. Her jaw drops when her engagement ring sparkles at her under the hospital lights, brown eyes widening in surprise. "This is gorgeous. You said yes. Derek proposed and you said yes?"

"I said yes," she confirms and notices how pronounced Izzy's pregnancy is. "You're huge."

Izzy playfully chides her Spanish, swatting her arm. "Well, I am carrying my second son in here," she says and then states simply. "It's a boy. Brian cried more than I did."

"See now Victoria can't stay here. She has a wedding to be a part of and a new baby to meet."

"Well, she's going to do more than meet him. Brian and I talked it over. Our kids are so intertwined. All because they met at different places in time. I think Reed, Corinne, Lou, Steph… Johnny and Tati are a thing, I think... I don't know. What I do know they're going to drive us crazy until the end of the time when we're old and grey. Eleanor, too, and I heard her protest. I'm going to ask that Victoria be the godmother to this little guy," Izzy smiles down at her belly and cradles it gently. "But the caveat is that she has to wake up."

"That's a good idea," Thea surmises as Izzy loops her arm through hers and they walk back to the waiting room and toward Victoria's room. "Understated, yet thoughtful. She'd love that."

—

Eleanor Forsythe Sterling doesn't abide by rules and anyone who does, is simply foolish. Neither optimist or pessimist, she resides in the middle. Realism. If something has to go, she makes it disappear. If someone is more asset than liability, she takes care of them so they aren't much of anything ever again. It's always better to be predator than prey, always better to be apex predator than something lower on the human food chain. After all, Eleanor reflects while curled up in her chaise fresh from a bath in a black satin robe while nursing a glass of red wine. She isn't overly emotional because there's no use in it. After the tears and the anger are released, what else is there? She isn't one to seethe either. Either, she seeks vengeance or doesn't. It's not about picking her battles. It's about ending all of them, multiple victories at once. The bloodier, the better.

Friends aren't ones Eleanor makes. Allies, if they mean something and prove useful. Acquaintances for the sake of appearances. But close friends? No, not those. At least, not until Dorothea Campbell, Elizabeth Marshall…and Victoria Newman. Yes, they are parental allies and she will never understand why Stephanie chooses public school over a prestigious private school. Although, she is her most level headed child and has no hesitation in making decisions perceived to be difficult. Pierce and Amy choose boarding school out of the country. They are young and wrapped up in youthful bliss. Bobby has tunnel vision of political aspirations like his father and Sara is in Californian bohemian bliss, going wherever the currents take her. It's a source of exasperation for her but her daughter is an adult, though Robert cannot bear to see their daughter fall into an LSD induced trip of her own making.

Ah, but her Stephanie. The thinker. The militant one. An equal disposition of being as quiet as a shadow and as loud as a bomb. This child born in the middle. This one fears nothing, cowers to no one and just the thought makes Eleanor smile. The future of the both Forsythe and Sterling families will thrive on her shoulders. Her daughter is a knife, beautiful to the hilt and fatal in her blade. But her child still is human in that she is navigating what it means to feel, to love, to care. It seems Reed Hellstrom finds some place in her daughter's heart as closed off it is whether it is friendship or more, she doesn't know and does not care to ask. He's a good lad, talented young man in his music and has an innocent quality about it, but is as stubborn as his mother and as temperamental as his uncle. Maybe even has his father's temper without the horrendous domestic abuse.

Victoria. The first person to understand her on a deep level and does not react. The woman has steel in her eyes, just as Eleanor has it in her blood after years to getting used to how cold it is. Victoria understands what it is have the will of a man but never the anatomy so one adapts. Why stab another in the back when it's easier to strike it in the front and twist? It's much more satisfying. That's when she understands what people really want.

Victoria wants to live her life, be a mother and finally sit on a throne she fights her life for. Eleanor knows what it's like to have a younger sibling who is not as qualified receive accolades and praise that they aren't particularly deserve. But, Eleanor frowns, absentmindedly toying with the toying with the emerald ring – originally owned by her great-great grandfather – on her index finger, but when the old man passes away, her younger brother, Stephen, with no heirs to carry on the bloodline shall be Lord Forsythe of Ellesmere and that's that. For now.

Eleanor looks into Victoria's eyes and sees something akin to steel and ice, yet the woman is unbelievably warm. Victoria's a walking contradiction, a rare person and people like that aren't supposed to be attacked and left to be comatose. It's unnatural, and it's wrong. It's why she agrees to have Reed close to his mother but far enough to process this tragedy. According to her security, Johnny and Katherine are safe, simply being children and none the wiser.

Steps head toward her parlour. Measured ones and quick, hurried one.

Yvonne, her housekeeper, appears and stands at the doorway, demure.

"Mr. Sterling will be home shortly after taking care of that issue with the Grand Phoenix and a press conference with regarding the Ripley Turner arrest."

Of course. He's as charismatic as he is corrupt, but he is on the same wavelength as her. Ripley Turner. That animal will be dead by mysterious circumstances within the confines of the Wisconsin Department of Corrections in 48 hours. If that is the case, he's out protecting their daughter with one hand and soothing a shaken Genoa City with the other for re-election.

"Reed and Stephanie are settled in for the night. Binging on Netflix when I checked," Yvonne informs her with a polite smile. Eleanor glances up at her with cool assessing eyes. She becomes pensive, curious of Victoria's current condition since she last visits this morning, leaving flowers and well-wishes behind.

"Excellent."

"Oh, Thea and Izzy have both called numerous times."

Eleanor shrugs, hiding a smile behind her glass. "To inform me of Victoria's condition since her attack, I'm sure."

"Yes. Which is the same as this morning," Yvonne answers. "But to check on you as well."

Eleanor stares at the housekeeper who merely looks at her knowingly. She glances down into her glass, unsure of how to feel. She does not need anyone to check on her because she survives and adapts. It is all about Darwinism. The strong survive and the weak do not. A lump develops in her throat, almost painful, and her vision becomes as misty as a body of water too deep to see the bottom. Eleanor clears her throat and sips more of her wine, more tart on her tongue.

"Well," she clears her throat, and fixes Yvonne with an impersonal gaze, "anything else?"

"No. May I replenish your wine for the night?"

Eleanor lets a shadow of a smile grace her lips and waves Yvonne away with a dismissive hand. "No," she says, with a grateful nod. Yvonne is nothing but diligent and loyal. She appreciates that if not for anything else and the woman has a mysterious air in her mousy appearance that Eleanor can't stray away from. "That will be all."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Sterling."

"Sleep well."

Yvonne turns on her heel and walks out in the direction from where she appears.

—

Eleanor stands from the intricately carved yet comfortable chaise, a piece of furniture passed down from the generation of one Sterling to the next. She strides over to the fireplace, no blaze roaring in it because it's not needed tonight. And of course, she can't have one of several copies of her leverage quite literally go into up in smoke. Eleanor throws her head back, draining the rest of a tart yet sweet red that reminds her of Victoria well. It also reminds of the blood. Eleanor is reminded of the blood she's sure is stark against the white material of her dress.

She bends and feels around for the underside of the fireplace. One of the many hiding places in the nooks and crannies of her house. Eleanor grins in satisfaction when she finds the small black thumb drive containing something akin to a grenade. It'll go off and set of shockwaves that will not only shatter Billy Abbott's life but changes it as he knows it. The Newmans will protect Summer from the shrapnel because it's what they do. But Billy will have no protection and when she is done, he will multiple stab words with no doctor, no surgeons and no relief to stop the bleeding out. Metaphorically, in his case. Right. Metaphorically.

She twirls the flash drive once and then twice in her hands and makes a decision.

Eleanor grabs her purse and digs around for her iPhone before she taps a number. It rings and goes straight to voicemail like she expects it to.

"Victor, Eleanor Sterling. It was kind of you to stop by and keep me appraised of Victoria's condition earlier and of course, your grandson is always welcome here. When he is ready, he will arrive to see his mother and reunite with all of you. You know how they are at this age... In return for your forthrightness, I would like a moment to be forthright with you," she says, vaguely on purpose. "It is of utmost importance. Please do give me a call to discuss it further."

She hangs up after the voicemail and for some reason, scrolls through her pictures. Eleanor lands on one of them. A publicity photo of her and Victoria from the Newman Enterprises anniversary photo. She grins, radiant in white. Eleanor herself stoic yet regal with a soft smile on her lips, painted a matte dark red. She wears a sleek, form fitting black gown that accentuates her curves. A necklace of dark red rubies – a loan from Victoria because she loves the cut and colour of it under light – adorn her neck while Victoria's jewels and accessories with the white dress are, in turn, from her as a gift. It's your night, not your father's despite the fanfare x

Light and dark. Black and white.

Two powerful women of steel and ice who rule the world.

A tear slips down Eleanor's cheek as anger wells up inside her because she realizes it: Eleanor does not want friends. She needs them. She needs Dorothea's boldness. She needs Elizabeth's sunshine and she needs Victoria.

A woman who is the kindred spirit Eleanor cannot bear to lose.

She never loses anything and will not start now.

—

Eleanor goes back into her purse for her cigarettes and lighter, fetching a crystal ashtray where the decanter of Robert's brandy is. He'll be expecting it and well, he can bloody make it himself. Eleanor goes back to the chaise, her perch to have a moment and cease all thought of destruction and wreckage. Until at least sunrise. A small flame is brought to the end of the cigarette and it illuminates the dim lighting of the room.

She takes a drag, relaxing and then releases the smoke through her lips like a prayer never said. Shaking off the ash, she takes another.

"Securi dormite, amica," Eleanor says softly to no one but a vibrant, effervescent Victoria somewhere in the confines of her mind and waits for tomorrow. Sleep well, friend.

---

EPILOGUE

Eva pulls the Winnie the Pooh covers up close to Clementine's sleeping form on the king sized bed in Deanna's guest room. She wears her pink purple pajamas, her head a mass of her curls and little splayed up on the bed. Her little girl is in this state of a peaceful dream state and Eva smiles with gratitude, running a hand over the soft curve of her cheek. Pressing a kiss to her daughter's curls, she whispers, "Sweet dreams, baby," turns off the light aside from the butterfly nightlight plugged in the wall, emitting a soft light. Eva glances out the window, the temperature cold enough to leave a frame of frost. The wind weaves itself between the barren tree branches as a scream is somehow unleashed into the firmament. It sounds desperate and ringing, reminding her of the sharp scream she lets rip from her throat when Ripley squeezes her throat. She'll die. He'll snap her neck and not think twice.

"You burn me," he whispers roughly, his breath hot against her. "I'll burn you back, Blaze."

She remembers the few times she does become fearful of a man she knows nearly her whole life. She recalls one of the few times she can't manage it or handle it with anger of her own. Eva recalls, more than anything, be genuinely scared for her child. Their child. Then she remembers the prick of bitterness because of course, there's another woman. For a lawyer, she's stupid in abundance and can't see the hold Ripley has on her. But now, there's no Ripley. No threat. No much of anything now. Thea calls her and lets her know before any other cop that he's been apprehended and isn't headed for her in the first time. Her first instinct is to be annoyed but she understands staying at Deanna's house for the day or two in something, in hindsight, she needs. Deanna's son, Nolan, is with his father for the night so the timing's perfect.

Clementine shifts from her stomach to her side, lazily rubbing an eye across her face. That tea before she, herself, retires to go to sleep. Deanna beats her to it.

"Mama?" Clementine says, in a small voice, still thick with sleep. "Monsters…"

"Shh," Eva soothes, climbing into bed and pulling her daughter close. She allows Clementine's body to curl into hers, her head resting on her chest. It reminds her of when Clementine is much tinier than this and still, it is still the same. Her daughter situates her head on her chest close to her heartbeat. Heartbeats in between Clementine's breathing. Eva rubs small circles on her back. "Go to sleep, baby. Mama's not gonna let the monsters get here, okay?"

Clementine nods against her chest and yawns, "K…" There's a pause and then a softer. "Daddy?"

Eva fights to steady her voice. She doesn't know if Clementine is perceptive enough to mean Ripley. Or, if she really means Henry, her boyfriend. The guy with the wicked gleam in his eye, but gentle and affectionate with her. Henry looks like at Clementine like she has taken his heart, but she doesn't mind sharing. Henry is a sane rational person who teaches her that it doesn't always have to about chaos, and she doesn't have to be used to it. He's a goofball who has tea parties with Clementine and her stuffed animals, throws dance parties and is protective of her. He sings her into a dream filled sound sleep and makes her squeal with giggles and laughter. Eva knows she's asking for Henry, the only father she knows – even though Eva knows when Clementine is old enough, she will want to know of Ripley. But Henry Donahue is her father in every way.

"I talked to him today, and you know what he said? He told me to tell you, he loves you forever and a day. And guess what? He's coming by here to take us home tomorrow when our sleepover with Auntie Deanna is over," she whispers to her sleeping child. London is so close, tangible and more than anything, possible. "Everything's going to be okay."

Eva isn't as good as Henry but she starts You Are My Sunshine softly caressing her daughter's curls. She sings it for herself, the living, breathing piece of sunshine she is lucky to have, and as a lullaby for the three children who don't hear it from their mother tonight.

She can only hope that there's more sunshine after cloudy days. Eva Blake falls asleep knowing she has nothing to fear anymore. She's truly free.

Eva hopes Amanda Sinclair and Victoria Newman can know the same.

—

fin.

—

note: I've popped up with a oneshot – a long one – but I'm here, nonetheless. With all this time I have on my hands and not leaving the house for a few days, I managed to finish it. I thought I'd write about Victoria's attack and how those around her process this, rather than Victoria herself. It's a different style of writing for me, but I hope you liked it. I just wanted to give Victoria a more complex, richer world. If you were curious and managed to read through this, and liked it, thank you. If you don't like Victoria or anything Victoria adjacent and you managed to read it, thank you. I don't own anything except characters you don't recognize and the plot. That's all. The title is from The Beatles.

Feedback is appreciated, and always, thank you for delving into these parts of my imagination. Enjoy the weekend. Stay safe. Stay healthy.