Author's note: I know, it's been a while, but I have an excuse. My first version, which I was almost finished with, got corrupted and I couldn't access it. Then I wrote another version, which is also now lost, along with a bunch of other stories. So. I'm going back to the beginning, where I wrote shorter chapters, but with faster updates. The next few chapters will occur all on the same day. Also, if anyone knows of any important things I should know about the Quartermaines, don't be afraid to let me know. It'd be a major help if you could point me towards any video clips or transcripts too.

"You sure you're going to be all right?" Ned asked for the millionth time at L&B. "I mean, the Quartermaines are a handful on a good day and-"

Sam looked up from the paperwork. "Come on, Ned, how bad can it be?"

Ned and Dillon shared a look at this. If Sam was asking questions like that, there was no way she was ready for the clan. "Oh, boy," Dillon muttered. "Sam, I don't think you understand-"

Sam looked up again and sighed. "Dillon, I live next door to Sonny and Carly Corinthos. I've drifted all over the country working as a con artist, and I've seen practically everything there is to see. Now, given the life I've led and the neighbors I've got, are you honestly telling me to be worried about a little yelling?"

She had a point. Still, Ned countered, "There's no 'little' about it, Sam, we make it into an Olympic sport-"

Sam started putting the files away. "Fine by me," she said breezily. "I could do with a few family feuds. They liven things up."

Dillon blinked. "Wow. You might actually fit in after all."

Jason wasn't afraid of a lot. He wasn't afraid of dying, of being hurt, of the police, of the D.A...Jason snorted at the thought of being afraid of Ric Lansing. And he wasn't afraid of Sonny.

That still didn't mean he wanted to go in there and tell Sonny what he and Sam were planning to do. Because Jason knew Sonny, and he knew Carly, and he knew they wouldn't be happy with this.

And at that thought, Jason's back stiffened slightly. What the hell did they have to be upset about? It wasn't like Jason was leaving town, or quitting the mob. He was just moving out of the penthouse.

He remembered the look on Sam's face when he'd suggested it, the look of...incredulous relief. He hadn't seen her that relaxed, that happy and relieved in a while...it meant a lot to her, leaving this place, starting fresh. And if Jason was honest with himself—and there was no reason not to be-he was kind of looking forward to a clean start himself. There was too much history in that building, too many ties to different women—Jason was realizing more and more that if he really wanted to make this work, start a family with Sam and their baby, it couldn't happen here.

Standing nearby, Max cleared his throat. "You going in?" he asked respectfully.

"Yeah," Jason said slowly. "Yeah, I am."

He turned the doorknob and went in.

"Well...somebody told me...you had a boyfriend who looked like a girlfriend...that I had in February of last year...it's not confidential...I've got potential..."

Sam sang along tunelessly to the song with Georgie, then stopped after the chorus. "I'm hungry."

Georgie just nodded, used to Sam's sudden cravings by this point. "Want mango juice? We've got some in stock in the mini fridge."

"No..." Sam mused.

"Chocolate?"

"No."

"Chocolate-covered octopus?"

Sam frowned at her. "It was just that one time…" she pouted.

"It was still disgusting," Georgie said with a shudder. "Well, if you don't want mango juice, or chocolate, or octopus—then what do you want to eat?"

"Chili," Sam decided. "I want chili."

"Aren't you going to spoil your appetite?" Georgie wondered. "You are going to dinner in a few hours—"

Sam snorted. "Please, I'm pregnant. I could spend half the day at a buffet and still have room left over."

Sonny was staring at Jason as though he had started speaking Sanskrit. "You want to move?" he echoed. "Move where?"

Jason kept his cool. "We're staying in Port Charles…you know, get a house—"

"The hell for?" Sonny demanded. "That apartment's your home, what do you need to move for?"

"I told you, Sonny, Sam doesn't feel safe here—"

"So let her move!" Sonny yelled, clearly at the end of his rope. "Set her up somewhere, and when the baby's born, you know, you can move for sole custody, problem solved—"

Jason's mouth almost fell open. "That is not going to happen," he said heatedly. "And if you think I'm taking my daughter away from her mother, you're out of your goddamned mind—"

Carly came down the stairs, dressed in a turquoise kimono. "Hey, what's going on?"

Jason almost groaned, but restrained himself. Carly. Shit. His plan—not that he'd really had one—consisted of tackling Sonny first, then facing Carly. Facing Sonny and Carly at the same time had not been in Jason's plan.

"Carly," he said, keeping his voice calm and casual with an effort. "You're back already?"

"Yeah, I got in late last night," Carly said slowly, looking from him to Sonny. "What's going on?" she repeated again, wary.

Before Jason could answer, Sonny said shortly, "Jason's moving out."

Carly's jaw dropped. "What? Why?"

"Look, Carly—" Jason started, but again, Sonny answered for him.

"Because Sam told him to." Even though Sonny had hardly listened at all to what Jason had to say, he'd seemed to have already formed his own opinion of how this had occurred.

Carly now looked furious. "That little—"

"Okay," Jason said loudly, cutting in, "that is not what happened—if you would just listen—"

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Carly raged. "I know you want to make this work, Jason, but come on, she's just mooching off of you and probably using the baby as a bargaining chip—"

A part of Jason snidely thought that Carly was one to talk, given the way she'd used Michael as a meal ticket in the past, then pushed the thought down in shock. What the hell was going on with him? He'd never thought like that before…or maybe hadn't allowed himself to think like that before…

"She is not mooching off of me," Jason said as evenly as he could, given the way his anger was starting to coil up in his stomach. "She's got a job, unlike you," he added, unable to help himself.

Carly's mouth fell open again, and Jason thought idly that it wasn't really a good look for her. "Hey, I run the Cellar—" she protested.

Sonny decided to put his two cents in. "Look, Jason, if you want me to talk to Sam for you, set things straight—"

Jason's eyes widened. "No," he said firmly. "Absolutely not."

Back after the coma, Jason had been prone to violent outbursts. They'd come without warning. The angry coil in his chest would just get tighter and tighter until finally it let loose and wreaked havoc.

Jason still had a temper, but he hadn't lost it like that in a long time…

"For the last time, Jason, there's no need for you to move—"

And with that simple sentence, Jason let loose.

"Of course I have to move!" he exploded. "How the hell am I supposed to start a family, living across the hall from the two of you?"

Finally—finally—he'd gotten them to shut up. Sonny and Carly stared at him, stunned. But Jason wasn't finished.

"Come on, Sonny, since you've got all the answers, tell me how I'm supposed to manage," Jason said, a bitter sarcasm twisting his mouth and tainting his words. "Tell me how I'm supposed to take care of my family with you and Carly coming over all the time with your constant demands."

"Jason," Carly protested, "that's not true—we don't—"

He laughed bitterly, and he saw Carly flinch slightly at the sound. "Give me a break Carly, you do it all the time. I'm the one who gets shot for you, who gets arrested the most, I'm the one who has to fix your screwed-up lives, I'm the one who has to explain things to Michael when the two of you don't feel like being parents." He stared at both of them, and was glad that neither of them could deny the truth that he was spewing. "And you know what? I'm sick of it. You hear me? The two of you just—just came in and invaded my life—and I'm done. Do you hear me? I'm done."

He stalked towards the door, then turned. "I don't care if you like Sam. I don't even care if you approve of what I'm doing, or if you hate it. But shut up about it already. It's happening whether you like it or not, so back the hell off."

He walked out, closing the door none too gently. In fact, he slammed it.

Jason hadn't lost his temper like that in a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that he'd forgotten…what a relief it felt.

"So, are you going to ask Lauren out or not?" Murphy asked.

Lucky barely repressed the urge to groan. They were back on his partner's favorite subject: Lucky's love life. Or to be more accurate, Lucky's lack of a love life. "I'm not asking Lauren out," he said wearily, referring to Mac Scorpio's curvy assistant.

Murphy looked disappointed, but not that surprised. "Oh, man, why not? There isn't a guy in the force who wouldn't kill to go out with that girl, and for some bizarre reason, she seems to want you."

"Murphy, it's not happening," Lucky said as firmly as he could. "Let it go."

Murphy, of course, didn't listen. When did he ever? "Look, man, I've got to tell you, some of the guys are starting to wonder if you're, you know, playing for the other team—"

If Lucky were taking a sip of his coffee, he would have choked and spit it out all over the table. "What the hell? Murphy, I'm not gay—not that there's anything wrong with that—but for the record, I'm not!"

Murphy held up his hands. "Hey, man, people wonder. I mean, you're a decent guy, with a respectable job, and you're good-looking, or so the ladies tell me—and you haven't been out on a date in forever. What's going on?"

"None of your damn business," Lucky muttered, casting a look around to make sure Lulu was still at the jukebox. She was. Good. If she heard this, she'd never let up about it.

"Hey, I'm your partner and your friend, man, of course it's my business," Murphy insisted. "I'm just looking out for you."

Lucky knew that. He even appreciated it, sort of. Didn't mean that he wasn't annoyed by it. Really annoyed. "Look, can we just drop it?"

"No, we can't just drop it," Murphy insisted. "Look, why won't you go out with Lauren? She's hot, she's got fantastic legs, and I have a pretty good feeling you haven't been laid since the last millennium, and my friend, that is just sad."

Lucky was drinking on his coffee that time, and he did end up choking. At least he didn't spit it out all over the table. "Jesus, Murphy! My little sister's right over there—can you at least whisper?"

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Come on, man, she's way over on the other side of the diner!"

Lucky sighed. "All right. Lauren is—very attractive. And yeah, I haven't been on a date in a while. But come on, man—there's got to be some chemistry there, right? And there isn't with Lauren, and I can't manufacture it just to make you happy and to prove my heterosexuality to the other guys."

Murphy looks resigned. "All right, all right," he said, giving in. "But do yourself a favor, and find a girl that you've got chemistry with already."

Lucky grinned, waving a hand. "Yeah, yeah."

Later, Lucky would tell himself that it was just a coincidence that Sam walked in at that precise moment.

She looked good. Well, she always looked good. But today her hair was down and it was shiny and all over the place, and she was—smiling. At him.

"Who's that?" Murphy murmured.

Lucky motioned Sam over. "Hey, Sam, what are you doing here?"

Sam smiled again. "Just here to get some chili."

Lucky nodded, understanding immediately. "Nobody loves the chili here like pregnant women."

"Well, this pregnant woman would have it delivered to her place by the truckload, if it were possible," Sam laughed, and looked at Murphy.

Lucky made the introductions. "Sam, this is James Murphy, my partner. Murphy, this is Sam McCall."

"Hello," Sam said politely, shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you," Murphy said, giving her the once-over. Lucky spotted the glint of amusement in Sam's eyes as she observed Murphy observing her. Murphy didn't notice, however, and stood up. "See you around, Lucky. And think about what I said, all right?"

As Murphy walked out, Sam sat down in the chair he had occupied. "What was that?" she asked curiously.

"Oh," Lucky said without thinking, "just Murphy obsessing over my lack of a love life." He heard the words and could have kicked himself. What was he thinking, talking about this in front of her—

Wait. Why was it such a big deal anyway?

Lucky ignored his malfunctioning brain and focused. Sam was muttering, "I can't blame him. How on earth a guy like you could still be single is beyond me—"

"Oh, God, not you too—" Lucky groaned.

"Hey, it doesn't make sense!" Sam insisted.

Just then, Lulu came up to them. "Lucky, can we go to the movie store after this?"

"Sure," Lucky said.

"And get junk food?"

Lucky raised his eyebrows, but sighed and said, "Okay, as long as you brush your teeth afterwards. Grandma and Aunt Bobbie'll kill you if you get a cavity."

"Haven't gotten one yet," Lulu said smugly, and ran off back to her friends. Lucky shot a glare at the freckled kid who seemed a little too happy to see Lulu. He'd have to talk to Bobbie and his grandmother later, see if that kid was hanging around a lot.

Lucky turned back to Sam to find her staring at him speculatively. "I don't get it," she declared.

"Get what?"

"You," she said simply. "You're fun to be around, good with kids, you have a job, have absolutely no physical flaws that I can see—"

Lucky knew he was turning pink. Dammit.

"I'm serious, Lucky, you could have any girl you want," Sam was saying. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled up into a slow, dangerous, Cheshire-cat smile.

Lucky didn't know whether to be turned on by that smile or terrified.

"Stand up."

"Ex-excuse me?" The stammering might have been from the look in Sam's eyes, or the way her voice had dropped—and what was he, fifteen? Jesus Christ.

"Stand up," Sam said, her voice now brisk and businesslike. "Come on."

And because his brain had turned to mush, Lucky complied and got out of his chair, despite the fact that they were in Kelly's and that there were people probably watching—oh, who was he kidding? This was Port Charles, for Christ's sake. There were shootouts and resurrections on a regular basis.

Sam's eyes flicked up and down his body. "Uh-huh. Turn around."

He choked. This could not be happening. Sam was—was ogling him. "Say what?"

Her Cheshire-cat grin only intensified, and so did the turned on/terrified feeling. "Turn around," she repeated. "Slowly."

Unable to believe she was asking this, and even more unable to believe he was actually complying, Lucky did as she asked and turned around slowly. When he was finally facing her again, he knew that his cheeks were bright red. "Well?" he asked, embarrassed.

Sam grinned. "Lucky, you'll be happy to know there's nothing wrong with you from a physical standpoint."

"Glad to hear it," he said sarcastically as he flopped back down in his chair. Thank God Lulu was still occupied with her friends, otherwise she'd never let him hear the end of it. And if Bobbie had been here…oy.

"Of course," Sam said musingly, "in order to be completely sure, I'd have to…"

Lucky's eyes widened. No way. She wouldn't. Oh, who was he kidding, of course she would! Lucky had no idea if this was because of the pregnancy hormones or if it was just Sam's personality, but she definitely would—

"But then, Jason wouldn't probably approve," she finished, her voice tinged with regret. "Too bad."

"If you're done humiliating me—" Lucky said through gritted teeth, although he had to admit, he'd had worse days.

"Oh, no, I'm not finished yet," Sam said breezily, and turned to a nearby table where two women were sitting. "Excuse me?" she said sweetly.

The women turned towards her. "Yes?" a brunette with glasses asked.

"Are either of you lesbians?" Sam asked innocently.

"No, but why would you—"

"Are you married or significantly involved with someone?"

At this point, Lucky's jaw was hanging open. And to think he'd thought his dad could be a handful. Yeesh.

"Is this a survey?" the brunette demanded, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"Would you go out with him?" Sam finished, pointing at Lucky, who immediately sunk into his chair and wished fervently the floor would swallow him up.

The brunette looked him over, much the same way Sam had done. "In a heartbeat," she said without hesitation.

Her friend, a strawberry blonde with freckles and a button nose, nudged her friend fiercely. "Are you crazy? You don't even know the guy!"

The brunette snorted. "Please. Look at him. That is all I need to know."

Lucky could have died. Sam beamed at him. "See?"

"And just for the record," the brunette said throatily, leaning towards him, "I am definitely available."

Right before Lucky put his face in his hands, he saw Mike give him a thumbs-up from behind the counter.

Sam had a couple of hours to kill until the dinner at the mansion, so when Lucky had asked if she'd wanted to come along with him and his sister to the video store, she'd decided to go.

"Okay, no PG-13 flicks," Lucky declared the moment they stepped in.

"Come on, Lucky," his sister whined. "Please?"

Lucky remained firm, despite the lethal dose of puppy-dog eyes Lulu was shooting his way. "Not a chance, Lu."

"Oh, come on, Lucky," Sam said casually. "She's 10, how bad can it be?"

"Thanks a lot, Sam," Lucky muttered. "No way. Go pick out something nice and tame to Grandma and Aunt Bobbie don't eviscerate me later."

Lulu rolled her eyes, disappointed, and took off. Sam smiled. "You really are good with her, you know."

"I try to fill in as much as I can, you know," Lucky explained. "What with my dad constantly being missing in action for one reason or another, and my mom being…well, the way she is."

In a flash, Sam saw the reason she'd been so drawn to Lucky Spencer from the beginning. It was because he was just as lonely as she'd been. Which made no sense because he was surrounded by family and friends—but there it was. He was lonely. And—tired, although she couldn't say why.

"Sorry about what happened back at the diner," she said awkwardly. "It's just—I get these ideas in my head, and I act on them without thinking and end up putting my mouth in my foot, and I didn't even realize how completely embarrassing that must have been for you—"

"Sam," Lucky said gently. "Breathe, before you faint and I have to give you mouth to mouth."

Sam laughed. "Sorry. But you know what I mean, right?"

Lucky grinned. "Yeah, I know. And it's not a big deal, really. You were just trying to give me a push. Granted, it was more like a big shove—right over a cliff—"

Sam punched him in the shoulder. "Thanks!" she said, laughing.

"Your intentions were good," Lucky said, then squinted at her playfully. "I think…"

"I plead the Fifth," Sam said loftily, and he laughed again.

"All right, let's see what's here…hey, Gladiator!"

"Oh, God, Russell Crowe is gorgeous in that one—" At his look, Sam said defensively, "Pregnant. Hormones. Do I have to keep covering this with you?"

"Oh, is that why you were ogling me in Kelly's?" Lucky asked innocently, and was rewarded with another punch to the arm.

"Don't flatter yourself," Sam mock-growled.

He grinned cockily. "Don't need to. You do it enough for me." Lucky got out of the way of her punch just in time. "Now," he said thoughtfully, "what was it again? Oh, let's see…I'm good-looking, funny, charming, great with kids—"

Laughing, Sam clapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh my God, I've created a monster! Watch out, before your ego starts to rival Sonny's."

"That's impossible," Lucky stated with certainty. "Nobody has an ego as big as Sonny's. Why do you think he owned those huge apartment buildings? They were the only place big enough for him and his ego."

Sam laughed even harder at that, and a nearby patron glared at her. "Do you mind?" he hissed prissily. "I'm trying to make a selection here."

Sam and Lucky looked at each other, then lost it and started giggling madly.

"Worried about the dinner tonight?" Lucky asked casually as they waited in line at the counter.

"No," Sam said. "I mean, everyone keeps telling me how insane the Quartermaines are, but my life's gotten so crazy since I moved here I can't help thinking things can't get any worse."

Lucky smiled. "I'll be the first to admit the Quartermaine dynamics are—unusual, but I think you'll do just fine. You've got nothing to worry about."

Sam grinned, believing him. Then she glanced at her watch. "Oh, crap, I can't believe how long we stayed here—"

"My sister's picky."

"Yeah, but I wanted to get in some baby shopping before the dinner. Hey, give me your number and I'll give you the lowdown on the dinner."

It was the first time in ages a woman had asked for Lucky's phone number. (And no, the prostitutes they would bust at the PCPD did not count.)

And as he scrawled his number on Sam's palm, Lucky told himself fiercely that he wouldn't wait around for her call. He had other things to do, like spend time with his all-too neglected sister.

He told himself this, knowing all the time it would be a lie.

"We're here," Max said. "You can leave the bags in the limo if that's what you want."

Through the tinted glass, Sam stared. The Quartermaine mansion was, for a lack of a better word, huge. Sam had known these people had money, and Jason's penthouse was nothing to scoff at either, but still—damn.

She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. Her lower back hurt, her feet were killing her, despite the comfortable flats she wore, and the baby inside of her was kicking as though she was in a soccer match with Mia Hamm.

But she was going to be fine. She was going to be fine, because from what she'd heard Dillon and Ned whispering about earlier today, the Quartermaines were apparently worried about impressing her.

Sam grinned. The most influential family in Port Charles, worried about impressing a nobody like her.

Her father would have never believed it.

Her confidence back, Sam stepped out of the limo and made her way to the front door.

"If you'll just come this way, miss," the maid said, but Sam held up a hand. She could hear—yelling. Arguing.

Ooh, they were fighting already? "What's that?" she asked.

The maid's eyes widened. "Um, I don't hear anything?"

Clearly, the woman had her orders, but Sam wasn't prone to imagining voices. "They're fighting already, aren't they?" Sam asked, not bothering to curb the delight in her voice. Holy crap. Finally, she had a chance to witness a legendary Quartermaine fight. Well, techinically, she'd already seen one before, back at the benefit months before, but that didn't really count, since she'd stopped it before they'd really got going.

This time, she was determined to get a good look. Ignoring the maid's protests, Sam opened the door and quickly slipped into the study where everyone was gathered. Staying in a dark corner of the room, Sam remained unnoticed by everyone and could observe to her heart's content.

"I will not have the company I built become overrun by—mobsters!" Edward Quartermaine thundered.

An older woman Sam recognized as Ned and Dillon's mother, Tracy Quartermaine, was sitting on the couch. She merely rolled her eyes. "Oh, give it a rest, Daddy," she said. "He's a member of the board, and there's nothing you can do about it, so let it go!"

"Let it go?" Ned repeated, clearly incredulous. "You bring Lorenzo Alcazar into the fold of ELQ—Mother, have you lost your mind?"

Monica snorted. "Ned, do you even need to ask that question at this point?"

"Tracy, really, what were you thinking?" Alan demanded.

"That's what I'd like to know!" Ned burst out. "Jesus, first Lois, now you, what next?"

"You know, he's really not so bad," Dillon put in.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Says the teenager who used to work for him! My God, what am I going to tell the shareholders?"

"Please, this is Port Charles," Tracy said, waving her hand dismissively. "They're used to it. And if they're not, they should be."

"We'll have to wear Kevlar vests to the board meetings!" Alan declared, throwing up his hands. "Walk around with bodyguards…Good Lord, we'll need to put the Bomb Squad on speed dial!"

"We're already connected to the mob, Alan, in case you hadn't noticed!" Tracy burst out, finally starting to sound irritated. "Or had you forgotten the little matter of that robot son of yours—"

"Okay, Jason is not a robot—" Emily cut in.

"Really? Could've fooled me—"

"This is not about Jason!" Monica interrupted loudly. "This is about you, and your insanity in bring Lorenzo Alcazar, the South American drug lord, into ELQ!"

"Am I the only one here with a head for business?" Tracy asked of no one in particular. "The company is floundering, and we need his help—or would you rather have gone to Sonny Corinthos?"

"I'd have rather not gone to either one of them," Edward said shortly, "and if you had only consulted me in this matter—"

"Oh, get over yourself!" Tracy burst out.

"It's absolute madness—"

Tracy laughed. "Madness? Please? Unlike some members in this family, I never tried to kill my spouse by dropping a roof on their head!"

Sam's jaw dropped. Say what?

"You want to go there, Tracy?" Monica asked dangerously. "I swear to God, if you don't quit it right now, I'll—"

"You'll what?" Tracy sneered. "Give me a lobotomy?"

As the fight went on, Sam laughed quietly to herself. Ned and Dillon hadn't been joking. This was what the Quartermaines were like. Loud and dysfunctional and insane—and Sam was loving every minute of it. Because as insane as the Quartermaines were—and they were really insane—Sam wasn't afraid of them. They didn't freak her out the way Sonny Corinthos did.

Sonny, with his dark, cold eyes, and his penthouse that was always a few degrees too cold. The way he and Carly walked around, like some vital lifeforce inside of them had been leeched out, little by little, until they'd been turned into empty shells.

For all their faults, the Quartermaines weren't like that. You could tell, just by looking at them, that these were people that had lived. That laughed and argued and cried and fought—a lot—and loved and lived. Really, truly lived.

If Sam had ever been nervous or apprehensive—which she hadn't been—it would have ended right here.

There was nothing to be afraid of. Jason had been wrong, Sonny had been wrong, Ned and Dillon's constant warnings had been all for nothing, and Sam was so relieved that she'd trusted her instincts on this one.

Deciding this was as good a time as ever to make her presence known, Sam cleared her throat.

They didn't hear her. Considering the noise level everyone's voices were now operating at, that wasn't really a surprise. Sam did it again, more loudly, and finally they noticed her.

Sam just grinned, enjoying the hell out of the sight in front of her. Nothing but huge shocked eyes and open mouths, and it wasn't every day a girl could say that she'd shocked the entire Quartermaine clan into utter silence.

Sam felt her grin getting bigger. "Hello," she said simply. "When's dinner?"