For the next two weeks, Sam did nothing but try to come to a decision.

She'd gone back to the clinic a few times—well, to be totally accurate, she'd tried to go back to the clinic. But every time she got within sight of the place, she would start shaking. Her hands, her knees—the closer she got to it, the worse it would get, until it felt like she was about to fly apart into pieces.

It was pretty safe to say abortion wasn't really an option for her anymore.

The problem was that adoption didn't seem feasible either. No matter how hard she tried, Sam just couldn't see herself giving up her baby to complete strangers. She knew her limits, and this was definitely one of them.

But could she actually raise a child? Sam didn't know anything about babies or kids, and what if Jason came looking for them one day?

Her thoughts ran around and around like this, and there were no answers coming.

The treasure was forgotten. It was hard to think about sunken ships when she was staring at her stomach in the mirror, trying to imagine it swollen and actually be able to feel the baby kicking inside.

She was just—stuck. Sam couldn't go back, but she couldn't seem to move forward either. Just—stuck in transition.

She'd been pregnant for about five weeks before Jason finally came.

She was coming down the stairs, ready to go out and get some food. Burger King, maybe, or Subway, when—

"Look, man. I don't have any idea who the hell you're talking about," Coleman was insisting.

"Tell me where she is," another voice demanded, and Sam's heart came to a screeching halt.

Jason.

Jason Morgan was here, in Jake's—oh God, was he looking for her? Why would he be looking for her?

Emily. Jesus. Emily from the clinic—she knew, she might have—she'd been acting so strange, right up from the moment Sam had admitted that Jason was the father, she wasn't supposed to say anything, but if she had—

Oh, God.

There was a loud creak, and Sam realized, too late, that she had shifted her weight, causing the floorboards to groan. Shit.

The conversation immediately stopped, and all of a sudden—there he was, at the bottom of the stairs.

Oh, dear God.

Time slowed down to a crawl as they stared at each other. Sam couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't even breathe...all she could do was stare at him. The sharp cheekbones, the spiky hair, the growth of stubble...those blue eyes.

But with a horrible, sickening rush, she remembered. Who he was. What he did. And what she couldn't let happen.

"Sam—"

Whatever he was going to say, Sam didn't wait around for him to finish. Turning around, she ran back up the stairs, stumbling and tripping, her legs shaking, completely aware that he was right behind her, his footsteps thundering up the steps.

She ran to her room, opened the door, and locked it behind her not a moment too soon.

Sam let her shaky legs collapse, let herself fall to the floor and lean her back against the door.

"Sam?" Jason called out through the door. He tried the doorknob, then knocked when he realized she'd locked it. "Sam, will you come out please?"

She shot a glance at the window. Maybe she could get out through there...oh, who was she kidding? She was on the fourth floor, for crying out loud.

"Sam?"

"Go away," she muttered, then repeated more loudly, "Go away!"

"No," he replied.

"What do you want?" she demanded, deciding to play dumb. Maybe he wasn't here about the baby. But what else would he be here about? Besides, Sam had seen it in his eyes—he knew that she was pregnant.

"Sam, I know about the baby."

Huh. Confidentiality, her ass.

A slight twinge of pain distracted her. Pain...in her stomach...oh, no. No, no, no, no—this wasn't happening, why was this happening? Sam hadn't done anything—she hadn't fallen down the stairs, hadn't smoked anything, hadn't drank any alcohol...

The pain got worse. Much worse. Gasping, Sam lurched to her feet. Almost doubling over, she managed to unlock the door and throw it open. "Jason," she gasped out, not caring if he knew or not, "it hurts—the baby—"

As Jason immediately took her into his arms and ran down the stairs, Sam stopped thinking about abortion. She wanted this child to live, she wanted it to be with her, she wanted the pain to stop, she wanted the baby to be all right...

Sam stared at her folded hands, which were lying in her lap. When that got boring, she stared at the blanket, or her hospital gown.

Dr. Meadows said gently as she came in, "Sam?'

Sam immediately looked up, terrified. "Is the baby gone?"

"No,' Dr. Meadows reassured her. "The baby's fine. You got here just in time."

She closed her eyes. "Thank God."

"I'd like to keep you here for the night, just for observation." There was a slight pause before the doctor said gently, "Mr. Morgan is waiting outside. Do you want him in here?"

Sam's eyes flew open. "No. No way."

Dr. Meadows nodded. "All right, I'll tell him."

He didn't stay away, of course. Had she really been expecting him to? "Sam?" he called out gently as he stepped into the room about five minutes later.

She kept staring at her hands. "Please go away," she whispered.

"I'm not going to do that," Jason stated, coming closer. "Sam, will you please just look at me?'

Reluctantly, Sam met his gaze. God, he looked so calm. "The baby's mine, isn't it," he said. Not a question, not really, more like a statement.

Sam stared back at her hands. "No, it's not." Trying to make the lie sound more plausible, she added, "My, um, my boyfriend and I have already had a paternity test done, and—"

"You're lying," he said evenly.

"I'm not lying," Sam said feebly, still staring at her lap.

"Look at me, Sam," he ordered, and she did so. Jason's eyes seemed like they were on fire, they were that intense. "Look me in the face, and tell me that child's not mine."

She opened her mouth, ready to lie—and she just couldn't. The words lodged in her throat, withering away. Sam was bewildered, confused—she was a con artist, for God's sake. Lying came to her as easily as breathing—or at least, it was supposed to.

God, what the hell was with this guy? He'd managed to stroll in and turn her entire life upside down—look what had happened to her! She couldn't even lie now!

Furious, both at him and herself, Sam turned her face to the window. "I want you to leave."

"Not without a paternity test."

Sam whipped her head back to glare at him. "You cannot be serious."

"You're five weeks pregnant, Sam," Jason said coolly. "I did the math. And I don't care how many guys you say you slept with, there's still a chance it could be mine."

"It's not yours," Sam repeated, and she didn't attempt to meet his gaze this time. She glanced at him.

Jason shrugged. "Then there shouldn't be a problem confirming it."

Sam was restless. The test had been performed, and right now they were waiting for the results. Not that Sam didn't already know what the stupid test was going to say...

Jason came in, again, this time with Emily, the snitch.

Sam glared at her. "How much did he pay you?"

Emily looked surprised, whether it was at Sam's rage or her accusation. "He--he didn't--"

Jason sighed. "Emily's my sister," he explained.

Sam really didn't give a damn. "Oh, great. And I suppose there's a clause in that whole matter of confidentiality that says you can blab to siblings. Great. Just—great."

"Sam—"

"Get out," she ordered.

Jason squared his shoulders. "Not until I find out the results of the paternity tests."

"Then wait in the hall!"

Jason opened his mouth, but his sister laid a hand on his arm. "Jase, maybe we should..."

"Fine," he muttered, and turned and left. Emily hesitated, then turned to Sam. "Sam, he had a right to know—"

"Get out," Sam repeated dully.

Emily bowed her head and left, and Sam fumed.

Unbelievable. That little snitch—and the paternity test was about to come back any second, and she had no idea of what to do now—God only knew what Jason was going to demand once the tests were back. Maybe he'd demand an abortion. He probably would. What would he want with the kid of a woman he didn't even know?

She heard voices in the hallway, and slid out of the bed to investigate. Cracking the door open, she saw Jason and Emily talking to a short man in a suit with black hair that was slicked back.

"Do we know if—if the baby's yours?" the man was asking.

Jason shrugged. "Not yet."

"But there's a good chance," the man pressed.

"Yeah, Sonny, there's an excellent chance. I mean, the timing's right, she told Emily I was the father..."

Sonny Corinthos seemed to be contemplating this. "I understand that—that she's being hostile."

Sam shivered. Oh, God. Sonny Corinthos was less than five feet away from her. She was in big trouble.

"If there's one thing I'm gonna teach you, Sammie, it's to stay away from the mob, any mob. Hear me?"

Sorry, Dad.

Sam continued to listen. "I think she's scared," Emily was saying.

She wanted to laugh at that. The twit thought she was scared? Sam wasn't scared, she was terrified. Terrified for the baby, for herself—

"She's—she's confused, she doesn't know what to think—" Emily continued. "I see this all the time at the clinic. I mean, she barely knows Jason, and God only knows what she thought when she found out that he works for the mob..."

Well, what she'd thought was that she was completely and totally screwed.

"All right," Corinthos said, nodding. "So—so, we've got a girl in there with a baby that might be yours. Have I got that right?"

"It is mine, Sonny," Jason said firmly. "Now, I don't know why she's trying to deny it, but she knows that the baby is mine. I can see it in her eyes whenever she looks at me. Hell, she couldn't even deny it when I asked to tell me the truth to my face—"

"Okay, okay," Corinthos said, holding his hands up in a "stop" gesture. "First thing that we gotta do is confirm the paternity. Then we go from there." He paused. "You do realize that—if this child is really yours, you are gonna have a hell of a time trying to explain this to Carly, let alone Courtney—"

"I can handle it," Jason said, cutting him off.

Corinthos shrugged. "All right."

At that moment, Dr. Meadows showed up. "I have the results—"

Feeling as if she was about to faint, Sam quickly hustled back to the bed and got under the covers. Two seconds later, Dr. Meadows came in, along with Jason, Emily, and—holy shit—Corinthos.

Sam was shaking, whether from the news about to be imparted or her close proximity to a mobster, she didn't know. Corinthos was eyeing her, and he asked, "Should I go?"

Everyone looked at her, and she laughed. "What, now I get to have a say?" Okay, so she was just a little bitter. Considering that no one seemed to listen to her, even though she was the one carrying the baby that had started this in the first place, Sam felt pretty justified.

Jason bowed his head. "Sam, don't—"

She waved her hand. "Fine, whatever. It doesn't matter."

Dr. Meadows flipped the folder open, glanced down, then looked up. "Well, then. Congratulations, Mr. Morgan. In less than eight months, you are going to be a father."

Emily and Sonny Corinthos had both left, for which she was incredibly grateful. Emily had glided out, after trying to be solicitous and kind to Sam. Turned out she was a Quartermaine, which made no sense because how the hell was she related to Jason then? But whatever. Sam still despised her.

Corinthos had left as well, giving Sam one more once-over, and giving Jason a significant look that Sam couldn't even begin to decipher.

And she was alone with him. Alone with Jason, and trying to fight back the memories.

she was eleven and the dress made her look like she was nine, but dad said that was a good thing because nine was a lot cuter than eleven and this would make the job easier.

sam still didn't fully understand how everything worked, but she did what her father told her to do. She always had, ever since her first job in maryland--no, wait. First there had been that tiny town in oklahoma, then it had been maryland. it was kind of hard to keep track of all the states she'd been through. sam's jobs were usually to stand there, look adorable, say the right lines to the moms, and play nicely with the kids of the people they were about to work over.

and now her job was to stay in the motel and wait for her father, while he visited those men in dark suits that had come over yesterday.

so she would wait. just like dad had told her to.

"Sam?" Jason was sitting on the bed, facing her, and how had she missed that? "You all right? You spaced out there for a minute."

She shook her head irritably. "I'm fine," she snapped. "And would you stop acting like you care?"

Jason's face closed over. "You're carrying my kid. I care."

God, he was confusing. This wasn't part of the script. He was supposed to be an asshole. He was supposed to not give a shit. He was supposed to throw money at her and tell her to get an abortion.

He wasn't supposed to stare at her with wounded blue eyes and act like she was carrying the most precious thing in the world.

But he was.

Sam made herself recall the facts. Jason Morgan worked for the mob. He was the bad guy. Sure, Sam was no saint, but she didn't break people's kneecaps. She didn't put people in the emergency room. She didn't deal in violence and terror.

There, the anger was back. Sam stared at him, and making sure her voice and eyes were filled with loathing, said venomously, "If you tell me to have an abortion, I swear I'll kick you in the teeth."

He leaned back like she'd struck him. "Why the hell would I ask you to do that?"

Now he really wasn't following the script. Sam leaned back, just as surprised as he was. "Because—you're in the mob, and I'm a one-night-stand that got pregnant." Jason just stared at her, and Sam grew panicky. "You can't seriously expect me to believe you want this kid!"

He just looked at her. "Yeah, I can, because that's the truth."

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm getting a headache," she whimpered. She leaned her head back against the pillows. "I don't even know you."

Jason laid his hand on hers. His hand was warm—strange, she had expected it to be cold. "Listen, visiting hours are about to end...I'll come back tomorrow to pick you up, okay? Then we can really, you know, talk about this and decide what we're going to do together."

She nodded, not looking at him. "Okay."

Jason got up and walked towards the door. As he was about to leave, he turned and said, "You know...you don't need to worry about me loving this child. I already do."

Sam's eyes filled with tears. He sounded so sincere...

Jason shut the door gently behind him.

Taking a shaky breath, Sam reached for the phone.

Coleman shook his head at her as he walked in. "Darling, are you ever in trouble."

"No kidding," Sam muttered. She swallowed. "So, can you do me a favor?"

Coleman shrugged. "What is it?"

"Tell me everything you know about Jason Morgan," Sam said. "And how the hell is he related to Emily Quartermaine?"

Coleman grinned. "Sweetheart, he is a Quartermaine. That's his legal name, Jason Quartermaine." He wagged a finger at her. "Tell anyone I called him that, and I'll deny it."

Sam blinked. "He's a Quartermaine."

"Yep."

"As in silver spoon in the mouth, prep school, the family that runs the hospital—those Quartermaines?" Sam's voice ended in a near-shriek.

"Yep," Coleman said, seeming to enjoy her reaction.

Sam's headache was getting worse. "I'm sorry—how the hell does a Quartermaine end up working for the mob?"

Coleman looked around. "Does this place get delivery? Cause this is gonna take a while."

"Spill it," Sam ordered.

"Ooh, bossy." Coleman flashed her a smirk. "Is that the hormones talking?"

"Coleman—"

"All right, all right," Coleman pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. "About...lemme see...eight years ago, Jason was the Quartermaine golden boy. He was pre-med, a decent kid, about to follow in his parents and grandfather's footsteps, and he had a pretty girlfriend to boot. Trouble was he had an older brother, AJ, who was a raging alcoholic."

"Okay," she said slowly. "So how does he get from being pre-med to breaking kneecaps?"

"I'm getting there," Coleman said, holding up a finger. "The story goes, that one night there was a huge blowup at that big mansion up there, with AJ and his drinking right at the center of it. AJ ends up storming off, gets behind the wheel of this fancy sports car. Jason runs after him, and get this—goes in the passenger seat of the damn car in a last-ditch attempt to stop his brother." Coleman paused. "Didn't work."

"What happened?" Sam whispered.

"Well," Coleman said meditatively, "AJ started to drive, and of course, he ended up wrapping the car around a tree. He was fine, but Jason...Jason ended up in a coma, with permanent brain damage and absolutely no memory of his life before the accident. It's been eight years, and he still doesn't remember, and probably never will."

Sam was absolutely still as she tried to absorb this. "Okay...but I still don't understand how he ended up working for the mob."

Coleman shrugged. "Well, apparently he couldn't deal with everything. His family, his old friends...the way they looked at him, like he was nothing but a painful reminder of the person they'd lost. Having everyone tell him how wonderful he used to be didn't help matters. He got madder and madder, until he finally broke all ties with his family and decided to work for Corinthos. Changed his name to Morgan, declared his birthday would be the day of the accident, pushed his family away...and there you are, darling. That's how Jason Quartermaine became Jason Morgan."

Sam nodded slowly. "Wow."

"Yep."

"So...the father of my child is not only a mob enforcer...he's brain-damaged and has a plethora of deep-rooted issues with his family?"

"Yep," Coleman said. "You sure know how to pick 'em, don't'cha?"

Sam looked up at him. "Can you help me?"

"Help you with what? Painting the nursery? Picking out your coffin? Because, baby, let me tell you, hanging around Morgan and Corinthos is only gonna end up with you buried six feet under."

Sam bristled. "I can take care of myself."

Coleman laughed at that. "Darling, I'm guessing you've never heard of what happened to the first Mrs. Sonny Corinthos, have you?" Sam just stared at him, and he laughed again. "That would be a no. All right, so the first Mrs. Corinthos was blown up in a car bomb years ago. And get this—she was pregnant."

Sam's heart stopped. "Oh God," she said blankly.

"That's what you've gotten yourself into," Coleman told her. "And if you want my advice—get the hell out if you still can."

"Can I?"

He shrugged. "Would be risky. You'd have to leave the country...and even then, it wouldn't be a sure thing."

Sam nodded. Flee the country. Okay. "Okay," she said. "Can you help me? If you do...I'll tell you how you can become a millionaire."

Coleman perked up at this. "I'm listening."

Sam quickly told him everything she knew about the sunken ships and the treasure they carried inside their rotting hulls. When she was finished, Coleman whistled. "Whew. Wow."

"Yeah," Sam said impatiently. "Now, help me."

Coleman grinned at her. "All right. Let me ask you something. You ever been to Costa Rica?"