Chapter Five

"Why am I here?" Ryan demanded.

Derek Frye bit back his dislike for the tall handsome man in front of him, but just barely. And it wasn't easy. After all, his opinion of Ryan was the product of a thousand little stones the younger man had cast at him and his department since he returned to Pine Valley. Even this moment now, Lavery storming into his office, smug and condescending, demanding answers, echoed in his mind like déjà vu with dozens of others. How many times had Ryan accused him of incompetence? How many times had he been threatened by the Cambius money and power? How many sneering, disrespectful barbs had been thrown his way? Disruptions … disparagements … disrespect. Now those stone were a wall. A wall he could topple onto Ryan Lavery, crushing him in every way that mattered.

He indulged the fantasy for only the briefest of moments. Then, he thought of Olivia. Then, he spoke.

"Please sit down Ryan," Derek Frye motioned to the chair in front of his desk.

Ryan rolled his eyes in exasperation and sat down. "Fine," he snapped, "Now. Why am I here?"

"It's about your brother, Jonathan," Derek began carefully.

Fury immediately overcame Ryan, "Oh my god! There is no depth to which Kendall will not sink." He looked up at Derek, his words coming faster and faster, "She dragged you into this, didn't she? Told you all of her paranoid fantasies. Jonathan is not drugging my wife. He hasn't done anything wrong other than get caught up in Kendall's wrath. She's just using him to get back at me. You can't believe anything she says."

Derek leaned forward. His eyes narrowed, "Kendall thinks Jonathan is the one who was drugging Greenlee?"

Ryan's voice grew even louder, "It's a scam. Kendall's just …," he waved his hands frantically, looking for the word, "Being Kendall. She's just trying to get back at me for moving on with my life without her. Maybe she's covering up for Ethan Ramsey in the bargain, maybe she did it herself. Who knows?" Ryan frowned at the serious look Derek had on his face. Surely he couldn't be taking Kendall seriously? "Kendall's a pathetic, vindictive liar. You can't believe a word she says, especially about Jonathan."

Derek bristled at the harsh words. "This isn't about Kendall," he said as he jotted something down on a notepad on his desk.

Ryan frowned at the notepad, "Then what is this about?" he asked.

Derek stared at him for several long moments before beginning, "There was a incident at your brother's apartment, the one he shares with Maggie Stone."

Ryan leaned forward, "What kind of incident?"

Derek took a deep breath, fighting the urge to snap back, "Look. There's no easy way to say this. From what we could piece together, it appears that your brother and Ms. Stone were having a fight. A bad one." Ryan flashed Derek a look of disbelief, but Derek continued on before he could interrupt, "One of the neighbors actually called the police. But before the police got there, Bianca Montgomery did. We don't know exactly what happened then, but the fight escalated."

"What?" Ryan shook his head, "This doesn't make any sense."

Derek continued on, "Your brother fired a gun at the girls. Because of the way they were standing, the bullet hit both of them. Then he turned the gun on himself."

Ryan popped out of his chair and began pacing in the small space available in Derek's office, "What are you talking about? Jonathan?" He gathered himself, "You're saying that my brother Jonathan shot Maggie and Bianca and then …."

"Killed himself," Derek finished for him.

Ryan slumped back into the chair, "This can't be happening. I don't believe this is happening."

Derek walked around the desk, sat in the chair next to Ryan and put a reassuring arm on his shoulder, "Listen. I know this is shock, and it's a lot to take in. I'm going to try to do everything I can to help you, but you've got to help me too."

Ryan looked up at Derek, confused, "What do you mean?"

"Well, to start with, I'd like you to identify the body." He looked right into Ryan's eyes, "I'm not going to lie to you, it's not a pretty sight. But getting the body identified is the first step in getting some closure on this situation."

"Just cry … if you cry he'll stop,' Ryan heard the voice in his head. It sounded young, scared, like a little boy … like a girl. Ryan suddenly felt sick to his stomach. His head was spinning. He scowled at Derek, "My brother is dead. How much more closure is there?"

"I don't mean for your brother," Derek responded quietly.

"Well maybe I don't want closure, or your help getting it," Ryan growled at him.

"This isn't just about you," Derek replied, a bit of disgust now in his face, "It's about the girls."

Ryan sat deep in thought for several long moments before suddenly bounding up, "The girls," he practically shrieked, "I have to talk to Maggie and Bianca. We have to," he motioned for Derek to get up out of his chair and follow him out of the office. "This is all wrong. They'll tell us what really happened. My brother loved Maggie. They were getting married. There has got to be an explanation for all this. We have to go talk to them … to the girls. We have to go now."

"We can't," Derek replied calmly, motioning for Ryan to sit back down.

Ryan's face reddened, "God, it's always the same with you guys." He paced in a small circle before continuing, "Maybe you can't go, but I can. I'm going to talk to Bianca and Maggie."

"Ryan," Derek said with more force, "That is not going to be possible."

"What? The police finally decide to do something, and it's stop me from learning the truth about how my brother died," Ryan's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Derek's temper threatened to flair. He walked to the door, shutting it firmly. He took a deep breath before turning and addressing Ryan. It was the voice of authority, the voice of cold, hard facts. "The girls can't talk to you Ryan. Bianca is dead, and Maggie is in a coma. You and I are going down to the morgue to identify the body, and then we're going to have a long talk about your brother." Derek paused, giving Ryan a moment to digest the words. When he continued on, there was even more cop in his voice, "You don't want my help? Fine. You're on your own. But I am getting closure for those girls. I've already promised. And if I need your help to get it, you'll give it … one way or another."

"I would like to be alone with her," Erica said, looking at no one in particular. She didn't wait for an answer. She just turned and headed into the hospital room. Before anyone could react, she was gone.

Jackson breathed an audible sigh of relief at finally hearing words ... any words ... come from Erica. He still wasn't sure that she had heard anything that Joe Martin had just said, but at least she had spoken. Three hours ago, back in her office, she had said, 'Take me to my daughter,' in a voice that ripped out his heart. But since then … nothing. Erica was silent on the drive over to the hospital. She was silent while Derek Frye told them what few details the police knew. And she was silent afterwards. She was silent in the morgue. Perhaps she had spoken later, when they had left her alone with the body, but Jackson didn't think so. Her silence made her unrecognizable to Jackson. Was that to be the legacy of Bianca's death? The thought haunted him. Would she be changed forever? Lost to him? Would they all?

As horrible as it was, Jackson knew that he could survive Bianca's death. Even the worst of this day – the phone call from Aidan, waiting in the office to tell Erica the truth, Kendall wailing on the floor of the morgue, the blood still pooled on Maggie's floor – these things would fade, replaced by images of the girl he loved. But only if he had his family. He thought about all of the strength and patience it had taken to cobble them together into a family, and all of the screaming and arguing and jealousy along the way. It was his life's work – this family – but it didn't work without Erica. And so he prayed that those words were the beginning of her recovery. He needed her. They all needed her.

Derek Frye was waiting outside the door to the morgue.

"I know this is terrible," Derek said compassionately, looking first at Erica and then Kendall, "But it needs to be done. It's the first step in getting closure."

Kendall's eyes flared, "Jonathan Lavery murdered my sister and then killed himself. He ran away like a coward, and he took our lives with him I don't want closure!"

Derek's demeanor remained calm, but his voice got ever-so-slightly more businesslike as he turned and looked Kendall in the eye, "This is how we make it official. It's how we tell the story for Bianca." His lip curled up into what was almost a snarl, "This is how we tell the world what Jonathan Lavery was and what he took from all of you."

Kendall's eyes grew wide, but never wavered, even as they filled with tears. She did not feel better. Nothing could make her feel better. But she did feel shored up by Derek's words … and by his sincerity. She reached out and grabbed his hand, "We'll do whatever you want. Anything."

A small smile appeared on Derek's face as he nodded his appreciation..

Kendall nodded back.

"Let's go in then," Derek announced to the group.

If Erica heard Derek's words, she didn't acknowledge them. She just continued to stare through the small square pane of glass in the door of the morgue, utterly still and utterly silent.

Derek finally reached around her and opened the door.

As soon as Erica entered the hospital room, she leaned back against the door, closing it firmly. She was reluctant to move her body and expose the large rectangular window behind it. If there had been a way, she would have drawn a curtain across it. She didn't want anyone looking in. They meant well. They all meant so well. But they couldn't help her. Not now … not just yet. The only person who could help her was in this room.

Erica walked along the side of the bed then, finally sitting on the edge. She reached out, as if she might grab the girl's hand, but stopped herself, settling for pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. She looked so peaceful, like she was sleeping. The thought bolstered Erica. Sleeping people woke up.

"I know you can hear me, Maggie," Erica began softly, "It's Erica. And I need you to wake up." Erica paused as if Maggie might obey her command immediately, "Please wake up darling."

Silence followed, and Erica studied the girl, as if deciding whether to go on. She looked over at the heart monitor, listening to the steady, mechanical beep as she watched the line representing Maggie's heartbeat spike over and over. Maggie's heart sounded strong.

Erica leaned closer to her, "You see, Maggie. Here's the thing," her tone was hushed, conspiratorial. "You're the only one who can help me. You're the only one who can tell me what really happened. Jackson and Derek and Aidan … they're all trying to help. But they're just guessing really. And they're trying to protect me." Erica grabbed Maggie's hand then, "And I don't want to be protected." She looked down at the comatose girl – such a good friend to Bianca – and continued, "And I don't think you want to be protected either. You need the truth, and I can give it to you." Erica stopped then, turning back to the door. She stared at it for several long moments, daring an intrusion, before finally turning back.

"I was worried," Erica began, her voice cracking, "I was so worried. I was worried she was down there, cold and alone with a hole in her heart." The tears started then, silently running down her cheeks. "I went into that room to see her … to be with her. So at least she wouldn't be alone. It seemed so important. I thought it would matter." Erica paused again as she struggled for the right words. "And I was so angry at Jackson for waiting to tell me what happened. I felt like all of those moments were more moments when Bianca was alone and scared."

"But I was wrong, Maggie. I was so wrong. I waited and waited down there, down in that room. I waited to feel my daughter … to feel anything. But there was nothing. And I thought, 'This is what it is going to be like now. There will be nothing. A forever of nothingness in my heart where Bianca used to be.' But then I went back up to the E.R. waiting room to find Kendall and Jackson. I went back to where there were people and voices and life, and then I could hear her."

Erica scooted closer to Maggie, grabbing the small girl's hand with both of her own. Her voice dropped further, "I heard her, and then I knew. It wasn't Bianca in that cold lonely room, Maggie. She wasn't there. Not really. She was already gone," Erica nodded at her own words, "She was never there." A broad smile now shone across Erica's face. "So you don't have to worry either, Maggie. Bianca's not cold, and she's not alone. She's already with Mona." Erica nodded encouragingly, as if the girl were actually reacting to her words, "And there's more, Maggie. I could hear her voice then. She wanted so much to talk to you back there. She loved you so much. And she wants you to know that she's safe, and she's loved. She doesn't want you to worry about her any more. She wants you to wake up. She wants you to live. She wants you to be happy and to know her daughter. That what she needs Maggie ... what she needs to have peace."

Erica stopped and wiped away the tears, "And she's sorry. She says she's sorry that she wasn't there sooner. I don't know what that means, Maggie. But I'm guessing you do. So that's why you need to wake up. I want to do this last thing for my daughter, Maggie … to fulfill her last wish. We can do it together."

Erica looked at all of the tubes and wires pouring in and out of the small girl. Was she scared? How long had she been alone? Maggie seemed so very small to Erica then. So small and so alone. Who would be there when she woke up? Who would tell her that Bianca was dead? Who would look out for this girl that Bianca loved so dearly? Why was there only Bianca's family outside that door? Where was Maggie's family? The realization hit her mercilessly.

She stood then. And her words to the comatose girl were harsh, almost steely, "You're not part of that family anymore." She made her way to the foot of the bed and looked down on the still form. Her face was steady ... tearless ... resolute. "You're my daughter now. And it's time to wake up."