Again, regarding the medical junk in this installment, please remember that I'm just a hyperactive kid. So I hope all you doctors/nurses will excuse any errors I may have made. :)

Chapter Seven

Courtney slowly opened her eyes, greeted by the harsh flourescent lighting of the lounge. Next to her, her sister-in-law was quietly humming to herself while filing a stubborn nail.

She slowly got up from her slumped position, stretching her shoulder and shaking the tingles from her arm. Carly looked over at her, smirking at the young blonde's tangled hair.

"Mornin', sunshine."

Courtney ignored the chipper tone, stretching her neck and glaring at her Movado wristwatch. "What time is it?"

Carly snickered. "It took you long enough, kiddo. I thought you were going to sleep all day."

"Mmm," Courtney sighed, running her manicured fingers through her long blonde tresses. "Where's Sonny?"

Carly sighed, her good mood dimmed. "He went to check on Elizabeth's condition again."

Elizabeth. Courtney straightened, biting back a yawn at the mention of the brunette. "How is she doing, do you know? She was just rolled in to the ER when I got here yesterday afternoon. Is she any better?"

"Well, she just went into surgery about half an hour after you came," Carly reiterated. Puzzled, she quirked an eye at Courtney. "And, hey, what took you so long, anyway? I thought you were coming with Marco."

"I was," Courtney answered quickly, flicking a lock of hair out of her face. "But I, uh, didn't feel too well, so I told him to go on without me. And then it took me, like, fifteen minutes to find the freaking Motrin. So I took some, grabbed the keys, and got here as fast as I could."

"Oh," Carly nodded, satisfied. "Yeah. Well, anyway, she was brought into the ER and they were working on her for a little while. Sonny and I waited in here, and Jason was with the Quartermaines. Then we went to see how it was going, and Monica and Alan were in Emily's room."

Courtney cocked her head to the side. "Wait, weren't they operating? I thought they usually handled the majority of the trauma cases."

Carly nodded. "Yeah, they do, but I guess it was just a little too close to home for them. You know, the old addage that doctors never operate on their kids?"

Courtney scoffed. "Elizabeth wasn't exactly their daughter, Carly."

Carly rolled her eyes. "Look, you weren't here a couple years ago, so you obviously don't know. Elizabeth and Emily have been friends since they were fifteen, and they were always together. Elizabeth was always hanging out at the Q estate, and Em was always at Audrey's house. Those two were inseparable, and Alan and Monica started to say they'd gained another daughter."

"Uh huh."

"Yeah, anyway," Carly continued, tossing her short blonde hair. "So we asked them what was going on, and they said that Dr. Mulrow – he's the cute blonde one we saw when I came to see Dr. Meadows – was operating on Elizabeth, and that Dr. Gandhi was being called, too."

"Who's Dr. Gandhi? Do we know him?"

"He's the neurosurgeon," Carly informed her matter-of-factly. "They think there was some swelling in the brain, apparently, so they needed him."

Courtney scrunched her brow. "Swelling? What does that do?"

"Well, when she was hit, her brain apparently smacked against her skull," Carly explained, making elaborate motions with her hands, "and the front and back part were hurt. So there may be swelling, and that was enough to put her in a coma."

"So she's in a coma?" Courtney asked, cringing.

Carly shrugged. "We don't know."

"Huh." Courtney leaned back against the couch, succumbing to another yawn.

Carly smirked at her. "What, still tired? You've been asleep practically since you got here. You're not hung over, are you?" she teased.

Courtney allowed herself a weak laugh. "No," she replied. "Just dead tired."

AJ reached for the phone on his father's desk, his elbow brushing against an old family picture. Setting the photograph straight, he punched in a telephone number and spoke in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, it's me. Did you move the car?" He listened intently, glancing warily at the door. "Good. Just leave it in the warehouse." He paused. "No, I know it's safe. The family hasn't used that facility in years. No one will find it. Yeah, use the truck. OK. Just call me if there are any problems. And remember to lock up good; I don't need any nosey kids playing cops and robbers getting involved in this. Yeah. Bye."

Dropping the phone back in place, AJ quickly got up from the leather armchair and rushed out the door, locking it behind him.

He glanced around, then calmly rounded the corner and made his way to Emily's room.

The man's eyes followed his every move. He had rushed to the Daily Bulletins board right after he heard the young Quartermaine end his phone conversation, and now reached into his pocket for his own cell. Flicking it open, he pressed the first speed dial button and quickly caught the first empty elevator.

Pleased with the privacy the tiny compartment afforded, he loosened the belt of his trench.

"Boss. It's me. The pieces are all fitting together nicely. He's arranged for transportation of the incriminating vehicle. Yes. To an old warehouse storage facility intended for use by ELQ. Yes, sir. The phone records are in the file Kenneth gave you this morning. All right, sir. Yes. I'm on my way now."

With that, he closed his phone and stepped out from the elevator onto the solid pavement of the garage parking lot.

"AJ Quartermaine, you're in for quite a ride."

John Mulrow emerged solemnly from the operating room, his long fingers wrapped around a medical clipboard. He had exchanged his scrubs for his normal khakis-and-polo uniform, a clean white coat billowing around him with each step.

Elizabeth Webber had been released from the ER half an hour ago, and was now in her own room in the Intensive Care Unit. She was in fairly critical condition still, but was being attended by several nurses every hour, so he had reason to believe and hope that things would look up soon.

But now came the hard part, the part they never prepared you for in medical school.

Now was the time to break the news to family members. Or in this case, friends.

Upon entering the Port Charles medical community a little more than six years ago, John had formed an especially close bond with the Drs. Quartermaine, even revering them as his mentors. Growing up on the wrong side of Chicago in a broken home, John had learned early on how important friendships were.

In those six years, he had become fairly close with the entire Quartermaine family as well. He knew AJ as the charming black sheep of the family; the well-loved yet well-despised heir to ELQ. Emily Bowen was a lovable and elegant young woman of enormous character, and her illness had hit the family hard. Ned was the Wall Street savvy peacekeeper with little in the ways of independent personality, while Edward and Lila were the undisputed monarchs of the family, although everyone knew Lila was often the one cracking the whip.

But besides knowing the immediate family, John had also gotten to know the extended family, the people not related by blood, but family regardless. He knew Reginald as the sarcastic and loyal young man that actually managed to spend all his waking moments with the family without going senile. Cook was the temperamental kitchen elf whose crepes were to die for, much like her volatile temper. He knew most of the characters associated with the vast estate, and greatly admired how the Quartermaines respected them.

And in those years, he had also become marginally familiar with young Elizabeth Webber, a fiery girl with abundant charm and compassion. He only saw her fleetingly, for she rarely stopped by the hospital as long as Emily or the others did, and she was in and out of the mansion as quick as a hare.

Around him, she had always been quite reticent, and he doubted hearing more than a sentence or two from her at a time. His surprise was apparent once he had recognized her after she had been brought in, but he had been schooled to behave professionally, and so he did. He did exactly what his professors had told him to do, and operated on her as if she was just another patient, refusing to let his emotions show until she was safely out of reach of his scalpel.

But there was one thing his professors hadn't taught him, one thing John knew they had wished their professors taught them.

It was how to deal with the family of a victim. And he knew there were no guidelines on the subject, no Grief for Dummies books out at the nearest Barnes&Nobles.

He reached Emily's room and knocked gently before twisting the knob open. Poking his head inside, his gaze met that of the assembled family members.

"If it's all right with all of you," he began quietly, nodding at Alan and Monica, "I have some news on Elizabeth Webber's condition that I'd like to share with you. We can talk in my office."

With that, he pulled out of the room, walking slowly back to his office to await the family.

Alan was the first to get up. "Who else is coming?" he asked softly, glancing around the room.

Monica rose quietly, linking her hand with his. AJ rose as well, wiping his puffy eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief, and all three went to the door.

From her seat, Skye perked up. "Jason's not here. Aren't you going to call him?"

Alan turned back. "Do you know where he is?"

Lucky answered from his perch in the corner. "I saw him going into the chapel."

Luke snorted, unmindful of the dirty looks from Alan and Monica. "Chapel? Wow. Morgan's hardly the resident God-boy."

Alan rolled his eyes and left the room, motioning for Monica and AJ to go to John's office. He himself turned and headed down the hallway for the chapel.

Jason allowed himself a yawn, stretching out his shoulders and neck. His yawn must have been contagious because next to him, Johnny yawned as well, stretching out his legs from under the wooden bench.

"I need a shave."

Francis' low mumbling got a chuckle out of Max, who had stood up and was pacing at the back of the small church.

"I know what you mean," he answered, running a hand over the dark stubble that was forming on his chin and neck.

"Me, too," Johnny agreed, scratching at the brown hairs that pricked up on his chin. "I feel like a freaking porcupine or something."

Jason remained silent, his gaze not wavering from the small red glass candleholders.

Johnny gently nudged him with his elbow. "Come on, Jason, snap out of it," he demanded. "You've been in a god-damn-" he nervously looked around, then amended his statement, "You've been in a freaking trance ever since you got here."

Jason just nodded, looking down at his clasped hands and not even noticing as Francis groaned in frustration.

"We've got to snap him out of this," Max declared, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "It's not healthy."

"And what do you know about healthy, Mr. Burritos and Booze?" Francis demanded, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at his friend.

"Bite me, Frannie. It's better than those spinach and dandelion salads and freaking bottles of Evian you inhale every day," Max returned crossly.

"Hey," Francis warned, rising from his seat. "Just because I want to take care of myself doesn't mean I'm some sort of-"

"Pussy."

"You god-damn-"

"Hey!" Johnny exclaimed, his brown eyes flashing. "Cool it, will you? Try to remember where you are for a second." He turned back in his seat, shaking his head.

The door opened with a slow creak and all men instantly turned to look. Alan stepped partially in, his eyes searching for his son in the dim light.

"Jason?"

"Right here."

"Elizabeth just came out. John has some information he'd like to share with us."

Wordlessly, Jason got up from the first pew and followed his father out the door. Johnny sighed and leaned back on the hard bench, with Max soon joining him. Francis got up and began to pace slowly around the church as Max had been doing, his rosary beads back in his hand.

John ruffled the papers he had pulled out of the clipboard, uneasy under the impatient stares of the Quartermaines. And the Morgan.

What made this experience even more daunting and awkward was the fact that the infamous Borg was finally in his company. John had heard many things about Edward's prodigal thug, and none of them good. He'd never met Jason personally, probably since the young man avoided his family and the hospital at all costs.

But now the hitman was in his office, sitting on his green leather couch, and all John could think was that he didn't want any of them to be here. If they weren't here, he wouldn't have to break the news.

Hell, it shoudn't even have been his news to break. It should have been Dr. Gandhi's. It was the neurosurgeon's field more than it was his. But where was Mr. Most Well Paid Doctor in GH? Hiding. Freaking coward.

John sighed deeply, not missing Jason's growl of impatience. Deciding the best way to approach the situation was to spill his news, he plunged forth.

"As you know, Elizabeth Webber was rolled into the ER yesterday afternoon as a result of a hit-and-run accident. She was unconscious upon arrival, with multiple head and body wounds. The ones sustained in the cephalic region were most likely caused by glass from the windshield, and only one was deep, for which she required stitches. The rest were fairly superficial, as were the ones sustained on her torso, brachium, and antebrachium."

Jason leaned forward on the slick couch, glaring at the doctor. "How about this, John?" he sneered. "You tell us exactly what happened and skip the damn medical terminology."

John raised an eyebrow at the man, refusing to say anything either of them would regret. He knew this was difficult for the family, and was willing to excuse Mr. Morgan's rudeness.

"We have reason to believe," he continued, ignoring Jason's outburst, "that Elizabeth hit her head on the wheel as she went into a state of unconsciousness. Combined with the effects of the rapid deceleration of the vehicle, and consequently her body organs, and you can understand that her brain sustained considerable damage."

Alan nodded, clasping Monica's hand in his lap.

"When the vehicle stopped as suddenly as it did," John went on, trying to keep the explanation simple for AJ and Jason, "her innards were still traveling at the velocity of the vehicle. Thus, her brain hit the inside of her skull, right at her forehead." He pointed out the area on a skeleton standing vigilantly near his desk.

"From the force of impact, her brain then hit the posterior side of her skull. Because of this, the dendrites in the neural pathways of her brain were severed. This severing resulted in an inundation of the chemicals, passing through the neurons, to be released into those areas of the brain."

He paused, his gaze meeting those of both brothers. "Because of the sudden release of these chemicals, the brain began to swell. Fortunately, she was already in the ER when this began, so the swelling was minimal and we were able to get it under control before it got out of hand and caused serious damage to the cerebrum."

AJ nodded, shifting closer to the edge of the couch.

"In cases where swelling has already commenced, portions of the brain may die. In some cases, total brain death occurs." Seeing their shocked expressions, John hastily explained himself. "I'm not saying that happened to Elizabeth. I'm just trying to add in some background information."

Jason glowered at the young doctor as he continued his explanation, handing charts and x-rays to his parents. Prick. He had no business bringing up brain death if it wasn't relevant to Elizabeth's condition. What the fuck was he trying to do – give them all a freaking heart attack? What the hell did they teach in med school?

He turned to look at his parents, both of whom were clutching the charts and x-rays in their hands. From their expressions, Jason could tell something was drastically wrong. Something even they hadn't planned on.

His chest constricted, his breathing borderlining on painful. The blood rushed to his ears and successfully drowned out John's words, his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure everyone could hear.

He clenched his hands into fists, his neatly trimmed nails threatening to bite through the flesh of his palm once more. His blue eyes frantically searched for the doctor, who appeared alarmingly downcast.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down in order to hear whatever it was that John was saying. His parents sure as hell didn't feel like explaining anything.

His breathing slowed and became less shallow, his hands unclenching and settling on his knees. Jason slowly raised his gaze to John's caramel eyes, his ears trained intently on the young doctor's words.

"We fear Elizabeth may have suffered memory loss and possible brain damage."