"Dad?"

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open to discover her father at her hospital bedside. "Hi, honey." She blinked numerous times in an effort to dispel what must have been a dream or hallucination aided by the pain relief. There was no other reasonable explanation for his presence in Port Charles. "It's okay. Here, let me." Jeff carefully buffed the pillows behind Elizabeth's back, in order to aid her as she inched herself into a seated position without any extensive movement.

"What are you - - why are you here?" Elizabeth's tone was one of mild irritation, as if his presence was somewhat of an inconvenience to her. "Aren't you supposed to be in Vietnam?"

"Audrey called me," Jeff explained his unannounced arrival. "She's been worried about you and the boys." Elizabeth avoided her father's eye, as if she were a child whose parent had only flown halfway across the world to scold her poor behaviour. "She told me that you and Lucky are separated." He, too, only received updates about Elizabeth and her children from a secondary source.

"We have been for months," she pointedly remarked.

Jeff offered a sympathetic smile. She didn't need to verbalise the dull ache in her body. "Well, with all you've had to deal with lately, Audrey thinks you could use some support. So, here I am."

The horrors of recent months - the text message killer, the black and white ball, the fire - flashed in her mind and Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Grams didn't need to press the panic button, I'm fine." She forced a brazen smile, "I'm sorry you've had a wasted trip."

"Don't be silly. No trip could be wasted on you." Jeff expertly batted off the anticipated resistance. "Besides, I had hoped that this would be a little more permanent than that. I left the clinic in the capable hands of your mother and my plane ticket is an open return." Elizabeth's eyes widened in disbelief despite her attempt to downplay the surprise. "I booked a suite at the Metro Court Hotel, so I'll be nearby whenever you or the boys need me. Lucky kindly offered to let me stay at his place but I wasn't sure how you'd feel about that," he confessed, and Elizabeth shrunk within herself which was all the answer he needed. "Anyway, I intend to stick around - - until you're back on your feet, at least."


"Did you hear about that explosion on the docks?"

It was the usual harmless chatter at the nurses station; it wouldn't have been a week in Port Charles without another shootout or brutal murder of an innocent bystander. Monica thirstily swilled from her Vodka-filled water bottle. It seemed as if she heard the name Corinthos or Zacchara every other day.

"Dr. Monica Quartermaine." She peered up from the computer screen, the notes from her rounds incomplete. "Well, well, well... if this isn't a blast from the past."

Open-mouthed, Monica eventually matched the face with a name. "Jeff?" Her first and former husband stood tall and handsome as ever before, if not more so since the last time she had laid eyes upon him. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped to a shorter cut and the years had added a few lines around his eyes but his smile remained the same. He looked especially healthy with a sun-kissed radiance about him. "Wha - - I had no idea you were back in Port Charles." She suspected that if she had bothered to attend the weekly round of Gin-Rummy at Audrey's she would have received fair notice but that was yet another responsibility that had fallen by the wayside since Emily's death. "I - uh - - it's wonderful to see you." She stumbled over the appropriate word to describe his sudden appearance. "How long are you in town for?"

"Indefinitely," he answered with an air of confidence. Elizabeth had been less than pleased by his arrival but that did little to sway his intention. "It's up for debate," he truthfully admitted, when the look of confusion on Monica's face undermined his bravado. After all, there had been a time when he swore he would never return to Port Charles. "Listen, I have to run but I would love to catch up over coffee some time."

"Sure," Monica replied in the same raspy voice he had once fallen in love with.


Jason paced the floor of his penthouse in frustration as his seventh attempt to contact Sonny that day forwarded to voicemail once more. Kate's rejection had understandably knocked him off-kilter but it was the worst possible time for him to fall off the radar; a killer remained on the loose, the Zacchara family were on the warpath and Jason was emotionally exhausted from the chaos of the past twelve months. Alan and Emily's deaths, the birth of a son he would never be able to claim and the vicious end to his relationship with Sam had hit him hard in quick succession.

He relented to Sonny's will and left a simple voicemail for him to find. "Sonny, I need you to call me."