December 1, 1989

Manhattan, NY

It was after eight when Alexis finally made her way to the elevator and wearily pushed the down button. Her whole body felt heavy and achy and she dreaded the walk back to her condominium apartment in Lenox Hill. Of course, it wasn't like she had a choice, so she exited the building and began trudging up Park Avenue.

When she finally reached the front door to her building she lost her footing and nearly fell except the new doorman reached out and caught her.

"Are you alright, Miss Davis?" Marcus O'Reilly asked.

"I'm just tired…it has been a long week," Alexis offered quickly. But her head swum as she struggled to regain an upright posture.

"Are you sure?"

Alexis felt less and less sure of everything and anything and then suddenly everything went black.

"Should I summon an ambulance?"

Alexis struggled to pull herself back from the haze. "That is hardly necessary," she snapped.

"Well at least let me help you upstairs and make sure you get into your apartment."

"Alright, thank you," Alexis said with resignation.

XXXXXX

Clammy and weak, Alexis clung to the bowl as she emptied the contents of her stomach for the third time. Her back was throbbing as she collapsed back onto the bathroom tile drenched with sweat. Perhaps she was coming down with the flu. Yes, that was definitely it, the flu, she would be fine by Monday.

Alexis needed to believe that. Except she couldn't, not really. There was definite irony there. Sometimes knowledge could indeed be power, but, unfortunately, sometimes knowledge could merely interfere with effective denial and Alexis was quite certain that the latter was most relevant in her case.

November 25, 1989

The bright blue tip of the Advance Colorstick taunted Alexis Davis as she peered down at it. She struggled to find her breath as she collapsed down to the cool bathroom tile. She was pregnant, with Julian Jerome's baby no less. She supposed she had always known it was possible. Perhaps she should have even presumed it to be probable…she had been mid-cycle…Julian's condom had broken. Regardless, she had clung to the cloak of denial until the tip had turned blue in true mocking fashion.

As she released another shaky breath, Alexis debated her next move. Although she hadn't spoken to Julian since the morning after, he had remained in her thoughts. Perhaps she remained in his because she was quite certain that the potted shamrock delivered to her apartment had come from him. No card had been enclosed but that had always been typical of Julian's gifts even during the brief time their relationship had been in the open and they had seen each other daily. Then it had been symbolic of their connection. Julian had never felt the need to sign his name. Perhaps he still didn't. For a moment Alexis needed to believe that.

As she lay helplessly on her own bathroom floor Alexis saw the irony of it all.