Queen of the Elven City- Plots, dear girl, not just a singular plot, but many plots, woven into the overall thread of the story. I think if I decided to go with just 'one' plot it would be a much shorter story, and probably a lot less interesting. Glad you continue to enjoy.

Samsonlove- I can count two moments where Dillon and Jason have intermingled on the show. Once, when Jason went to the mansion to help Emily prepare for Nikolas's 'funeral,' and the other time after Sage had died and Dillon wanted to see about getting protection from Lorenzo. There might have been another moment or two, I think Dillon might have been warned about Lorenzo when he was working for him by Jason, but I can't really remember all that much. Rest assured, my love of the potential between the two of them is what makes me write the scenes that I wish the writers would write themselves. As far as Brook and Lois being like Rory and Lorelai… I don't think so, because the connection between Rory and Lorelai is really strong, or at least it was before the end of last season, whereas Brook and Lois have a strong relationship, but it also has moments where it is very strained.

Corinthos Household, Morning-

There were times when he just wanted the world to stop spinning. Times when he wanted nothing more than to just sit there and be silent for a little while, let everything that was happening around him sink in. And then there were times when he knew that if he took the time to actually think about his life he would probably drive himself insane. For Damian, it was not certain which time he was going through. He wanted to have the everything stop itself, but at the same time he wanted to have something worth going on for… but what would that something be? He'd lost the one thing that he cherished the most, the one thing that he loved even more than being around his father and the rest of his family, he'd lost the person who he thought he had a shot at making a life with. Yes, it was a little premature to think that he would ever have anything serious come from his relationship with Maxie, but, in time, he did see himself with her for the rest of his life. He knew it as soon as he said that he loved her, he knew that he would always stay true to those words… and he was staying true to them, even at that moment. But, the same couldn't be said for her apparently. Maxie may have thought herself to be someone who was pure and righteous, but it wasn't true. She had given in to some sort of primal need for something… something that he wasn't willing to give.

That was something that Damian had thought about, something that he had pondered. Was it his fault? Was his inability, his unwillingness to have sex what pushed her into the arms of another man, one who would give her what she wanted without the emotional attachment? They had spoken about it many times in the past, many times in their relationship. He never wanted to have sex with anyone until he was married, didn't want to give up on the vows of celibacy that he had taken himself when he was young and still believed in the good grace of God. His religious convictions may have been destroyed over time, but some of the things that he learned still remained, some of them had become so ingrained in his being that they weren't just things about the religion, they were aspects of his personality. The question that he wanted answered was simple, at least he thought it was: if the reason that she did go and have a fling with the guy, whoever the guy was, if it was because of him and his choices, did he really have any right to blame her for her actions? Should not the blame have been placed on his shoulders for refusing to give her something that she wanted? Something that she should have gotten without really needing it. Damian understood why it meant something to her, he truly did. For both of them, sex was like the last gift that they could give each other, that final moment where they pledged something that would forever be theirs and theirs alone… but he wasn't ready for it yet. No matter how many other people were doing it, no matter how much the media hyped it up, he wasn't going to allow anyone to make him do something that he felt uncomfortable with. He was born out of a relationship that was forced. The motives would have been different, but Damian knew more than most people what it meant to be that type of person, the type of person who wasn't born out of a truly blessed decision.

Although he had been attempting to sleep for most of the night, the events of hours before kept him up until the wee hours of the morning, and, even when the sandman did at last claim him, his dreams were still filled with the horrific images that would forever be engraved in his mind. In his dreams he dreamt of the same moments that had happened before, and, when he saw the way that she looked at him, with eyes that were completely unapologetic, with eyes that seemed to scream at him that it was what she wanted, he tore himself out of the bed and looked over at the clock that was on the counter. It was still early in the morning. Seven-thirty. The fatigue of sleep had yet to be stripped from his person, and he doubted it would come any time soon. If it wasn't for his training and the fact that he had dealt with many similar situations before, he probably would have been much worse off than he was, but, while feeling some mild discomfort due to his anything but restful sleep, he could function… at least in that aspect. It was going to be something else to see how he would manage to face the world after losing something that was so important to him.

He'd been through the feeling before, when his mother died. He would never forget the way that he acted after that particular event had happened. The way that he refused to do just about anything, the way that he would only come down to eat about once a day and the rest of the time he would just be in his room, fighting back tears at times or just letting them crash out of his system and onto his bed or his floor or wherever it was that he happened to be at that particular moment. It would have been easier if she were gone. He knew how horrid it was to even think that, but he couldn't help it. Damian did not wish Maxie dead, and never would, no matter how much it hurt, but he had dealt with the death of someone that he cared about so much before, and he knew how to get himself through it. He was stronger now, he would be able to cope easier, or so he told himself. But to deal with something like betrayal, something that he had never felt before? He didn't have any sort of training for that, he didn't have any sort of clue as to what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to react. Damian didn't even know if he could do anything.

The warmth of the bed reminded him of that moment they spent together at the hotel in New York City, the night before he took a step that he had never thought he would take. He may have woken up being haunted by the decisions that he had made in his past, but before that, when they were in the bed together, when he felt the warmth of her body under the sheets, the way that they rubbed up against each other… the one thing that he would always remember about that night was how right it felt, just like when they kissed after they told each other how much they cared for one another. That overwhelming feeling that seemed to tell him that there was nothing wrong with what he was doing, where it was exactly what he was supposed to be doing, like he was being led by the hands of destiny itself.

He lingered under his sheets, the security of the black silken cloth fighting against the cold of the world that was right outside the bed. A losing battle, to be certain, but a battle that he was glad something was fighting. Damian scooted backwards and then placed his head on the headboard of the bed. Small strands of his hair, mangled from a night of tossing and turning in the bed, fell forth into his face.

The door to his room was slightly pushed open. He would have yelled for the person to stay away, but he didn't have the energy to do it. Damian wasn't even sure that he would be able to talk to whomever it was that was on the other side. And then he saw just who the person was, the boy's red hair reflecting softly in the pale light of the hallway. He was dressed in his school uniform. "Damian?"

"Michael… what are you doing here?" That could have come off as more intrusive than it should have. He still loved the boy, and had no quarrel with him. In fact, seeing such a bright and happy face made Damian see things just a little less bleak, something that Michael wouldn't understand.

"Did… did I wake you up?" Michael found it odd that his older brother was still in bed. Damian was almost always up before he was, very much like his father in that respect, although is big brother tended to dress in clothing that was a little less strange than Sonny did.

"No, you're fine."

"Are you all right? Are you feeling sick? Do you want me to get Leticia? I know she's supposed to just be me and Morgan's nanny, but she can do a lot of other things, too! Once, when I had a stomach ache, she made me something to drink, and even though it tasted really yucky I felt better once I drank it."

"Baking soda and water?"

"How'd you know?"

The young man smiled. That was the joy of Michael Corinthos, just the way that he would say things that would make a person smile, because of the way that he said them, the youthful tone that lifted even the most somber of spirits. "Leticia's a lot like me. We grew up in families that were very similar, and, when people get stomach aches, they usually drink baking soda and water."

"I don't like it!"

"Nobody does, but it helps, right?"

Michael nodded, but his queries would not end with such a short conversation. "So, if you're not sick, if you don't have a tummy ache, why are you still in bed? Don't you know that it's almost eight in the morning? I have to be at school soon."

"I don't sign in for my shift until noon… I can afford a little time to sleep in if I want it."

"I wish I could sleep in…"

"But you like school."

"Yeah, but I like sleep more. I can't wait until I'm a college student like you are, then I can pick when I want to be in class and I can sleep until whatever time I want! It's going to be great!"

"Don't grow up too fast, Michael."

"But I want to be older already," the boy replied with a slight pout. "I'm sure to a baby like Morgan being nine years old seems so old, but when I look at people like you and daddy and mommy… I want to be your age. I want to know the things that you know."

"Trust me, kid… you don't want to know everything that goes on in the adult world. Take what you have and go with it, because when it's gone you're going to regret it, especially when you know that you can never get it back again." Michael was immune to the pain of heartache, at least the type of heartache that Damian was going through at that particular moment. He would be crushed if something happened to his family, but that was different. Even Damian knew it was different. The way that he felt when Ana-Maria passed away and the way he felt at that moment were similar, but they had a lot of differences as well.

"You're going to be gone for awhile, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I have to do my internship with the hospital today… but you know that you can always visit me when you want to. You might need to wait a little while to see me, because I could be doing something, but if you need me, I'll come."

"I hate the fact that you're gone so much."

"I don't like it either, but I need to do it, Michael, you know that. You know how important doctors are. You know that people like you and I need doctors so that when we get hurt they can make us better. Without doctors what would happen? When Morgan got sick… nobody would have been there to make him feel better…"

"Or when you got in that accident…" it was still painful for Michael to think about that particular moment. When he thought of horrible things, the first thing that flashed into his mind, the first still of life, was the moment when he saw his brother get hit by a car, pushing him out of the way so that he wouldn't get hurt.

"I thought you were mad at me…"

"I was," Michael admitted. "And I still hate the way that everyone around me thinks that I can't understand things, that I'm too young to really get what is going on, because it isn't true. I might not know everything… but I like to feel like people aren't hiding things from me."

"You are our father's son." Damian finally pushed himself out of bed, the sound of the sheets moving with his body creating a noticeable sound alongside him. When he stood, his sweats dropped down, hanging over his heels only slightly. "Michael, I know that sometimes you don't understand what people do, trust me, that's not something that goes away once you get older… but you have to understand that sometimes… sometimes the people who do the things that you don't understand do them because they care about you, because they think it is the best thing to do."

"But shouldn't they ask?"

"Ideally, yeah… but there are times when people can't ask. Like, if you're asleep and we don't want to wake you up because we know how much you love to sleep…"

"That's not the same."

"No, you're right, it isn't… but it's the best that I've got right now, and that's all you're going to get." Damian smiled and leaned against the desk. "You'd better go, if you're late your teacher is going to get mad at you."

Michael walked over and hugged his older brother, arms wrapped around Damian's waist because of the height difference. "Whatever is bothering you, I know you're going to find a way to get over it, because you always do…"

Damian watched Michael go out of the room and heard the door slam. He lowered his head a moment later, "Don't ever change, Michael." But he knew that would not happen, knew that there would eventually be a moment where it had to change, something had to change inside of him. The frail innocence that was inside of Michael seemed all the more tender, and all the more important at that particular time.

The phone was on the counter as well, on vibrate as well as ring. The sound of the vibrating phone hitting the wooden counter pulled him away from his thoughts, and then he looked over to see who was calling. It was Maxie. He fought the urge to pick it up… fought it as hard as he could, and he just continued to let it ring.

On the other end of the line, Maxie waited in her own bedroom, having been up much like him throughout the night. "Come on, pick up… please pick up." But her pleas would remain unanswered. The only thing she got was the voice message machine. Most of the time she didn't leave any message, but there were many factors that needed to be taken into account, and she couldn't just leave with only an unanswered call. "Damian… it's me. We really, really need to talk about what happened last night, and about what happened before that. Please call me back as soon as you get this message, I know that you still use this phone… even Sonny can't change the numbers that fast." That last claim may have been easily disputed, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to talk with him, to explain herself… to ask for forgiveness that she knew she had no right to request.