Chapter Ten: The Truth and a Cup of Tea

It was enough for Simon and Alan to intervene, and without a word between them, they conspired to separate Tracy and Ned. Alan physically inserted himself between the young man and his target, and Simon took Tracy by the arm, heading for the elevator.

"Come on," he said softly. "Let's get some breakfast. There has to be a coffee shop around here somewhere."

"I can't leave it like this," she said, resisting him, trying to turn back to where Alan was talking furtively to Ned. The older man looked haggard and unfit for such strenuous efforts, but he managed to keep Ned and Skye occupied long enough for Simon to pull Tracy away from the situation.

"He'll still be angry after you've gotten something in your stomach. You're tired and jet-lagged, Tracy, and I don't think you need to be dealing with this in your condition."

"My condition?" She shook her head, her eyes rolling. "You don't know anything about my condition, Simon. This isn't some isolated event. This is my family. This is how we are, how we interact." She paused as Ned turned to glare at her. Simon could see the pain in her eyes, on her face. He didn't know what to believe, who to believe, but he knew damn well that if she had another collapse, in front of her family was not the place he wanted her to do it.

"Then you need your strength if you're going to face them." He put an arm around her shoulder, turning her towards the elevator. "Listen, Tracy, you know I only have your best interests in mind. I know this is difficult for you, but I want you to trust me. You need to step away from this for a moment, gather your wits, back off from it." He looked over his shoulders. Ned and Skye were headed down the hallway, and Alan was looking after Tracy and Simon. He made eye contact with Simon, and nodded, as if to say, yes, get her away for a moment, give us some time to digest the fact that she's back.

He had the feeling he would've liked Alan Quartermaine under different circumstances.

"I need to see my father," she said in a child-like tone.

"He's in surgery, honey. It could be hours before you can see him."

"I want to see my mother," she said.

"Let's get something to eat, then I'll drive you out there myself."

She looked up at him, her eyes confused and tired. "You don't hate me?"

"I don't know the whole story yet, but I'm certainly not going to destroy a twenty year friendship based on the words of a bitter young man out to hurt his estranged mother." He pulled her in close, letting her rest her head on his chest for a long moment before herding her into the elevator. They rode down in silence, his hand wrapped around hers until they got to the lobby level and exited. Tracy led him through the crowd of people straight to the hospital's coffee shop, which was just opening up.

A young woman with long dark hair grabbed two menus and told them, in a thick New York accent, to "have a seat anywhere." There were already a few tables occupied, and Simon could tell it was going to be the start of a very busy morning rush. He led Tracy to a secluded spot, seating her with her back to the crowd. He didn't want her distracted by anyone, and he wanted her to feel safe enough to talk without her voice carrying out over the crowd. They scanned the menus for a moment—basic coffee-shop fare. "Not quite Farinelli's," he said to Tracy. "But it's something, right?"

She said nothing. She was staring at the menu with blank eyes, obviously not reading a thing. Simon took the menu from her, placing it on the table beside her. He was just about to speak when the young brunette returned with two glasses of water.

"Ya know what you want?"

"A Bloody Mary with a vodka chaser," Tracy said glumly, still staring straight ahead.

"Um, we don't serve alcoholic beverages here," the waitress said, the concerned expression on her face showing she obviously expected trouble.

Simon intervened, getting the girl's attention. "Do you have herbal tea?"

"Yeah, peppermint and chamomile."

"The lady will have one of each, and I'll have a cup of coffee." He nodded to the menu and added. "We'll both have the breakfast special. Don't worry about the sides—just throw something on the plate, and we'll be fine."

"How do you want your eggs done?"

Simon really didn't want to deal with this—anything, he was about to say.

"Scrambled," Tracy said, looking at the girl for the first time. She sighed, staring at the young woman's face.

"Okay…." The girl hesitated, then asked, "Are you okay, ma'am?"

Tracy's eyes closed, and she looked like she was about to start crying.

Simon stepped in, putting his hand over Tracy's. "Her father had a heart attack last night. She's a little shaken," he added gently.

"Aw, man, I'm sorry. My great-grandfather had a heart attack, too." She shook her head, a tired expression crossing her pretty features. "In fact, I wasn't supposed to be working today—it's wacko in here. But the thought of hanging out there with all those Quartermaines…"

"You're a Quartermaine?" Simon asked, noticing how Tracy's expression changed from deadened apathy to sharp curiosity.

"Barely, according to Great-Grandfather." She shrugged. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I'd rather be here than up there anyway. I volunteered to work this morning, mainly because I can't stand to be around all the fighting." The young girl stopped, obviously remembering that she was supposed to be working and not talking. "Hey, I'm sorry. You don't need to know that, right?"

"Edward Quartermaine is your great-grandfather?" Tracy's voice was low and calm, her words evenly spaced and cautious.

"You know him?"

Tracy's expression faltered, a shadow of regret crossing over her. "I…used to know him."

"Yeah, he's my great-grandfather." The waitress stared at Tracy. "How weird is it that you knew my great-granddad?"

"I thought everybody knew Edward Quartermaine," Simon prompted.

"Well, yeah, there is that certain degree of notoriety…"

"Are you A.J.'s daughter?" Tracy was staring at the girl openly, not even trying to hide her curiosity.

The young woman, her hair was covering her name tag, laughed. "If you know the Quartermaines, then you should know that if A.J. was my father, which he's not, I sure as hell wouldn't admit it."

"Then you're…what was her name? Skye. Your Skye's daughter?"

"Ha! Uh, no, I sure as hell wouldn't want to be that shrew's daughter either." She made a gesture of moving her hair, revealing a name tag that read Brooke Lynn Ashton. "I'm from the Black Sheep's side. You know, the Other one."

Simon saw Tracy's face go white, saw her hand clutch the glass of water tightly as she digested this bit of information. "Um, miss, perhaps you should go put our order in. My friend has really low blood sugar, and I think it would be a good idea—"

"No problem," Brooke said, smiling. "I'm really sorry. Not exactly cut out for waitressing, you know, but my dad wants me to learn responsibility. I'll get this in, and have your tea and coffee out in just a minute, 'kay?"

"Thank you," Simon said as the girl left them alone. He turned to Tracy, who looked as if she couldn't quite digest what she'd just seen. "You okay, Boss Lady?"

"I'm going to be ill."

"No you're not, Tracy." He used the tip of his finger to nudge her water glass toward her. "Drink something."

She took a huge sip of water, downing it like she might have chugged a Scotch back in her drinking days, and put it down hard on the table. "Oh, my god…."

"You have a grand-daughter."

"I have a grown-up grand-daughter," she corrected, her jaw slack, her eyes blank and staring forward. "How the hell did that happen?"

Simon began to chuckle. "Um, well, it's pretty straightforward."

She glared at him, then took another swallow of water, emptying the glass. Then she grabbed his and downed half of it in one shot. "What the hell is my grand-daughter doing shlepping food in a diner?"

"It's not a diner. It's a coffee shop, and she told you what she's doing. Her father wants her to learn responsibility."

"In a coffee shop? Why not ELQ? Why not a job in the mail room, or maybe answering phones? She's a Quartermaine, for gods sake! She shouldn't be—"

"Tracy, calm down," he said, trying to get her attention. She took a deep breath, her face contorted with anger and confusion. "How about we just sit here for a minute, and try to get our bearings?"

"Fine." She reached for the glass of water, remembered it was empty, and put it back down. "This isn't happening," she muttered.

"Try to stay calm," Simon responded in his most calming voice. Honestly, though, he'd spent a net time of maybe fifteen minutes with the Quartermaine family, and he was ready to pull his hair out. He had no problem understanding why Tracy had cut herself off from them. "We'll figure this out."

"I knew I shouldn't have come here," she whispered, staring down at the place setting in front of her. She picked up a fork and started toying with it, balancing it on its prongs and twirling it one way then another. "It was a horrible mistake."

"It was the right thing to do. You can't keep running from this."

"You saw how they reacted to me, Simon! You saw them. And those are the ones who like me. Or don't know me. What do you think my father is going to do when he sees me? Welcome me with open arms?" She dropped the fork, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. "What was I thinking?"

"You were thinking you love your father," he said honestly. She couldn't meet his eyes, so he just continued. "You were thinking this feud's gone on long enough, that you can't bear to carry the burden of it any longer." He reached out for her hand, holding it softly in his own. "The nightmares you were having—were they about your father?"

She nodded, not saying anything.

"About what happened, twenty years ago?"

"Please…don't ask me just yet. I can't…I can't talk about it." She bit her lower lip, her eyes downward, unable to look at him, unable to control the trembling in her hands. "I'm sorry, Simon. I know what you must be thinking."

"You have no idea what I'm thinking," he said with intensity. She was hurting, he could tell, and all he was thinking about was how to protect her. How to care for her. He didn't know if what Ned said was true; he doubted it was a complete fiction, but suspected that the truth had been warped to make Tracy look as bad as possible. "I'm not going to press you, baby," he added. "But sooner or later, I think you're going to want to tell your side of the story."

She looked up at him gratefully and was about to speak when the waitress, her granddaughter, returned with their drinks. The girl lingered there for a moment after placing down the coffee and teas, obviously wanting to say something, but not quite sure how. "Um, ma'am?"

Tracy steeled herself, looking up at the young woman with a tight smile. "Yes?"

"You know, I don't mean to be a bother…but…" She hesitated, embarrassed. "Um, your food will be up in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Tracy said, a hint of dry amusement in her voice. "Anything else?"

The girl, Brooke, blushed, smiling shyly. "You said you used to know my great-grandfather, right?"

"Yeah. A very long time ago," Tracy added.

She hesitated, nervous, looking almost guilty. "Did you, um, know my grandmother? Tracy Quartermaine?"

Simon swore he saw Tracy gulp. She blinked her eyes hard, the words not coming. "Uh…"

"Hey, it's okay. I know. I've heard the stories…."

"What stories," Simon prompted quickly.

Brooke Lynn grinned. "Well, from everything I've heard, the woman was hell on wheels, a real trouble-maker. Great-Granddad says I'm her spitting image, and that I'll probably come to no good."

"He shouldn't say that," Tracy said softly.

"Yeah, well, Great-Granddad isn't really big on "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts" unless they apply to other people."

"You said a mouthful."

"I saw a picture of her once," Brooke continued, her eyes getting this faraway look. "She couldn't have been more than nineteen. Wow, talk about perfect features, you know? High cheekbones, pretty eyes—really gorgeous. But she just looked so sad." She shrugged. "You probably heard the rumors about her—about what a bitch she was, how vicious she could be to anybody who got in her way. But I always thought…"

"What, Sweetie?" Tracy was looking at the girl now, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "What did you think?"

"I'm a screw-up, too. I guess I always thought maybe she wasn't so bad. Maybe she was just different, and didn't fit in to this family like she was supposed to. And believe me, not fitting in is a sin in the Quartermaines."

Tracy nodded, her face gentle and relaxed. She looked up at the girl, not saying anything for a long moment. "You know something? I did know your grandmother. I…think she would have liked you. A lot."

"Yeah, well, according to EddieQ, we're gonna have adjoining suites in Hell, so that's probably a good thing." She laughed, her face pretty and bright for one carrying the burden of such a family. Simon heard a bell in the background, and turned along with Brooke. "Hey, sounds like your specials are up. I'll stop bothering you and get your breakfast."

"You're not bothering us, Brooke," Tracy said, but let the girl go do her job.

"Pretty nice kid, huh?" Simon said.

"Yeah. Too bad she's gonna hate me like all the rest of them when she finds out who I am."

Coming in Chapter Eleven: God Bless the Child Who's Got His Own