Maxie took one look at the atrocious piece of red material and tried to remember how she had gotten roped into this. Well, logically, she knew, but that didn't help lessen the frustration she was currently feeling and her attitude was focused on the dress in front of her. What was it with Lucy Coe and bright, vibrant colors? As if anyone could miss Lucy! Pushing her headband farther up on her crown, swiping her loose bangs off of her forehead, she snuck a glance at Ric.

He didn't seem quite as lost as he must feel. Like anything else, brilliance and determination bounced off of his creaseless suit and rested in his dark eyes. Realizing that he noticed her watching him, she quickly turned her face away, thankfully hiding her threatening smile. His fingers ran carelessly over the silk fabric and she felt a tremor run through her. Really, she chided herself. She was acting worse than a stupid girl with a crush. But this wasn't simply a crush. It wasn't a relationship. It wasn't casual, nor was it complicated. And that's what made it tricky. She was never quite sure what she should do or say, always worried it would be out of line. Then, because she was who she was, she would end up saying it anyway and they would both get a good laugh. Maxie couldn't say anything right now, as her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"You could cut the tension in here with a knife," Ric almost said and knew Maxie would agree with him. He wasn't sure why or how he had gotten into this mess, but at least he wasn't alone. He couldn't imagine having to construct—was that even the right word?—an outfit for a woman whose dressmakers seemed to always forget the important function of the dress: be that it wasn't supposed to slip off mid-sentence when she was addressing a room full of people. It never failed. As long as he had lived and worked in Port Charles, he had attended the annual Nurse's Ball. It was Port Charles' version of Disney World and it wasn't that uncommon for tourists to pour in late June, early July to attend.

He took a few moments to focus on her flaming cheeks, hoping he was at least part of the cause. He wished she would look in his direction again because he wanted to see the smile in her eyes. Blue eyes that could be as crisp as Port Charles' winter or as cool as the water lapping up against the harbor, Maxie Jones was a truly magnetic female. A part of him wanted to pick her apart and see what made her tick; he wanted this almost as much as he wanted to sit back and figure it out on his own. It was his analytical mind that waged this indecision in him.

Balling the piece of fabric in his hands, Ric tossed it over his shoulder. "This would be much easier if you would just agree to be the model," he pointed out.

Maxie scoffed loudly, appreciative that no one else was around to witness his lame come-ons. "I bet you'd just love that." She replied, instantly regretting it. The look in his eyes more than proved that he would.

He picked up the edge of the fabric she was working with and skimmed it over her hand, barely brushing her skin with his. "It would make the day more interesting."

Maxie gave Ric a speculative look. "I bet you're kicking yourself for signing up in the first place, huh." It wasn't a question and she saw no reason to phrase it as such.

"No but it is all your fault."

"My fault?" Maxie's hand flew to her chest and her head dipped. "I wasn't the one going, 'Sure, sure. Whatever you think,' when the committee chose us to put together this costume."

"True but you were the cause for my distracted answer."

"You started it." Maxie rolled her eyes at him. He had. She hadn't only told him to stop she had shot him a hard look. But the big bad Ric Lansing would not be deterred.

"Which you wanted me to." Ric matched her look by moving closer to her. "That was why you wore that outfit today."

"What's wrong with my outfit?" She gestured toward her cream cardigan and straight black shirt.

"Nothing except you know you look gorgeous in it."

When he tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear, she stiffened. "You start that we'll never get this done."

"All work and no play?" Ric winked at her, but made no move to move in closer which he assumed she appreciated.

Maxie chewed on her fingernail. "If you had your way, there'd be no work and all play."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"When we're entrusted with a committee project, yes it is." Maxie reacted, trying to sound dignified despite the tremor in her voice.

"It's a dress that Lucy Coe will most likely fall out of midway through." Ric reasoned. "It's not peace in the Middle East."

"Says you. Hundreds of people are going to see it!" Maxie shot back just as rationally.

"Hundreds of people are going to pay to see if she falls out of it. Now it would be more fun to make sure that happens." Ric winked.

"You wouldn't dare! I'll never forgive you if you—" Her indignant sentence was cut off by his kiss. She placed her left hand to his chest now, intent on pushing him away. She could feel his heart hammering against his ribs and her resolve began to slip. "Umm...no." Maxie whispered, turning her face away.

"What? Why?" He blinked in confusion.

"Because we have a job to do." Maxie shot to her feet, intent on putting a lot of distance between them. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

"It doesn't have to be completed now. We can always work on it later." Ric followed her across the room. "All we have to do is make a deadline. No one said we had to finish this in one night."

"You know what we need?" Maxie exclaimed suddenly, snapping her fingers as if a light bulb had just clicked on in her head.

"I do but I bet it's not what you're thinking." Ric muttered to himself

Maxie ignored him. "Dinner. I haven't eaten and I'm guessing you haven't either."

"Dinner would imply you want to be seen with me in public." Ric cocked his eyebrow in her direction and used his finger to trace the curve of her face.

"I think we need to be around a bunch of people." She didn't let herself daydream about what would happen if they, say, ordered in and spent the rest of the night alone together.

"So some place secluded? Private even?" Ric teased her. If he had his way they would just order in and see what would happen.

"Down Casanova." Maxie smiled and Ric realized she wasn't looking at his face at all. Trying to find a safe subject to talk about, she went on. "So, what are you hungry for?"

"Besides you?"

Gulping, Maxie turned her back to him. "Chicken? Italian? A burger?" She wondered, her voice impossibly tight.

"You choose."

"Do you have any allergies?" She sounded like her mother. Cringing, she placed her hand to her forehead feeling feverish.

"She does care!" Ric moved to spin her around so she would face him. "Nothing can hurt me." He promised.

"I don't care." Maxie argued. "I just don't want to carry your heavy butt back to the hospital halfway through a plate of ribs."

"In that case maybe we should just stay here and order in." Ric smirked at her.

"Maybe we should." Maxie shot back, never able to back down from a challenge.

Ric took his cell phone out of his pocket. "Requests?"

"Just messy. I like messy." Maxie crossed the room and sat on the edge of the stage, leaving him to interpret her statement.

"You seem to be doing well." Robin tried not to read too much into the good doctor's welcome as she sat down and got comfortable. It was still a little strange, coming here week after week, and still, without anyone else knowing. She wasn't sure what brought her back today, especially when her life was as close to perfect as she could ever remember it being. Maybe it had to do with consistency and routine. Hopefully Gail would leave it at that and not make her delve into feelings and hidden fears. She didn't dislike the psychiatrist, just wished she didn't dig quite so deep. Robin had scars, some that no one else even knew about. Being her scars, she wanted to keep them to herself.

"I have nothing to report. Negative that is." Robin clarified, catching the doctor before she could respond to the first part of her answer.

"Well why don't you talk about the positive?" Gail encouraged.

"Patrick, Morgan, and I have been living together harmoniously for the past week. They've finally stopped acting like adversaries. I think Morgan's beginning to trust that Patrick's around for good." Robin piped up, smiling warmly.

"That is very encouraging. How are you adjusting?"

"Better than expected." Robin reported.

"Would you care to elaborate on that?"

"Patrick and I have a tendency to come up with problems out of thin air and, when he first suggested the change, I had my doubts." Robin explained.

"Well that would be expected given all the other changes you have experienced recently." Gail reasoned gently.

"Would you care to elaborate on that?" Robin asked just as cautiously.

"Motherhood, your uncle getting married, your cousin moving to France, a new career." Gail ticked off and then carefully approached her main point. "A divorce and a new relationship within a relatively short period of time."

"It's finally coming together." Robin whispered in absolute awe. "And I have you to thank for it."

"You did the work. I just listened."

"But you gave me advice too." Robin assured her.

"Again, based on your work." Gail shook her head. "Why can you never accept a compliment Robin?"

Robin laughed. "Patrick asks the same thing."

"And what do you tell him?"

"I usually distract him with something else. Usually something shiny." Robin joked.

"Jokes aside, why do you have difficulty accepting that you are strong Robin?"

"Because I'm not. Strong, that is." Robin's smile faded and she stared at her hands.

"Despite all the evidence to the contrary? Not many people would have survived all you have Robin."

"Survived." Robin repeated glumly.

"Yes survived. It's what you did."

"At the cost of something I always wanted though." Robin whispered quietly.

"Which is what?"

"A normal life." Robin sniffed. "I'm sorry." She reached into her purse for a handkerchief and blotted her eyes with a corner of the cloth.

"Nothing to be sorry about." Gail reassured her. "Please define a normal life for me. What does that include for you?"

"I told you about Thanksgiving." A nod was the response Robin received. "It's just another example of how one bad decision can mess it up for everyone around you. When Patrick got sick..."

"An understandably scary time for you."

"And for him and his family." Robin added.

"Which I think he would say includes you."

Robin blushed. "Yes, he probably would. Sometimes I wonder if I cheated him out of what he deserves."

"You still have to explain that statement."

"I told you about what the doctor said after the accident. So far, you're the only one who knows about that."

"Robin we've discussed that your worth as a woman is not solely defined by your ability to have children."

"I had another nightmare. I wake up covered in sweat and Patrick asks what's wrong, but I never tell him. He holds me and then I fall back to sleep."

"Why don't you just tell him Robin and let him make his own choice?"

Robin felt her gaze lift. "Because I'm not sure I'd like his reaction."

"Why do you fear that?"

"We're at such a good place...finally. I don't want to ruin it."

"Doesn't it have the same potential to enhance this place you are in? It would relieve your concerns and Patrick would understand what has been sparking some of your anxieties."

"I don't want him to know." Robin shook her head.

"Then you are content to live with this anxiety and fear?"

"If it means I get to keep Patrick..." She let her voice trail off.

"Until he presses you on what you are hiding from him."

"He'll look at me like I'm damaged." Robin insisted.

"Have you even broached the subject of children with him?" Gail asked reasonably.

Robin laughed humorlessly. "He thought I was pregnant right before Christmas."

"I'm assuming there is a story behind that?" Gail was reasonably sure her patient would have mentioned a pregnancy scare sometime before now.

"There was some confusion. You see, it's really Elizabeth...she's the one who's pregnant, but he found an appointment card and jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"I see. And how did he react?"

"To finding out I wasn't or thinking I was?"

"Either."

Robin laughed again, her voice still flat as ever. "He knew a mere day, and already he went out and scouted for a larger apartment for the 'four' of us."

"And after he found out you weren't pregnant? Did you discuss what children would mean to your relationship?"

"We had a fight and then he suggested we still move in together."

"It sounds to me like Patrick wants a committed relationship with you. Pregnant or not."

Robin shook her head. "He was covering his tracks."

"Robin, he's going an awfully long way to cover his tracks."

"I'm wary of too much happiness." Robin admitted. "I'm sure his motives were completely honorable. Turns out, he knew what he was talking about. Cohabitation has worked out better than either of us realized."

"Happiness scares you." Gail stated.

"I don't trust it to last." Robin explained.

"Happiness is an emotion. A state of mind. It is a choice we make."

Robin didn't respond to that.

"You don't have to answer me but think about it. We can talk about more next week if you wish. If happiness is a choice you make, then maybe what you don't trust is yourself Robin."

Robin nodded. "Maybe."

Alexis tapped her pen furiously against the desk in front of her, waiting impatiently for the defense attorney, Landon Keats, to wrap it up. "So, it's possible that this neighbor of Mary's saw a man who looked like you climb over the back fence and break in through—?"

"Objection!" Alexis shrieked. "Leading the witness!"

"Overruled. Continue Mr. Keats, but get to the point, will you?" Judge Edgecroft suggested in a grumble. The man was almost a foot taller than Alexis, but his hair was white as snow...what was left of it. He was a force to be reckoned with, but fair. She couldn't ask for more than that.

"Yes Your Honor." Landon Keats nodded. "Mr. Willis, were you at Mary Stringle's home last Thursday night?"

"No." Gregory Willis shook his head. "I was not. Last Thursday, I was out drinking with some friends."

"And yet, not a single alibi amongst these so-called friends." Alexis grumbled, winning a warning look from Judge Edgecroft. "I apologize Your Honor."

"You'll have your turn, Miss Davis." He assured her. "Mr. Keats, proceed."

"Thank you, Your Honor." Landon looked positively smug and Alexis wanted to stab him in the eye with her pencil.

"Would you mind carrying us through the events—?" Landon began.

"Your Honor!" Alexis all but whined in protest.

"Miss Davis, one more outburst from you, and I'll hold you in contempt."

"Yes Your Honor." Alexis ducked her head in embarrassment.

"Maybe you should let me—" David Korals suggested, but Alexis raised her hand to cut him off.

"You're here to assist upon request." Alexis reminded him.

"As acting A.D.A.—" David Korals pointed out.

"Are you throwing titles at me? Because, last time I checked, I was still your superior. The only reason I'm covering this case is because you fucked it up beyond reason." Alexis growled at him.

"Miss Davis, the floor is yours." Judge Edgecroft announced, interrupting them.

"Thank you, Your Honor." Alexis shot up to her feet and instantly regretted it. Reaching for her files to steady her quivering knees, she drew nearer the defend/witness. He was guilty. She knew he was guilty. His slimy lawyer knew he was guilty. He had broken into Mary Stringle's home, bound and gagged her, raped her, and then slit her throat. The evidence might seem circumstantial, but she had a secret weapon that even her A.D.A. didn't know about. She would use it if she had to. She'd rather rely on her own brilliance.

Willis withered under her callous stare. "Mr. Willis, you keep changing your story."

"Your Honor!" It was Keats' turn to whine in protest.

"I'm simply trying to verify Mr. Willis' story and, seeing as it's changed twice already, I'm just wondering if he's going to fabricate another one and waste the court's time." Alexis defended herself.

"Thanks so much for your concern, Miss Davis." Judge Edgecroft replied sardonically. "Will you please rephrase in a question form?"

"Certainly, Your Honor." Alexis smiled. "Mr. Willis, if you were where you said you were on Thursday wh-why can't anyone verify that?"

"People lie." Willis offered.

"Thank you for that brilliant assessment." Alexis muttered. "Is it possible that you weren't really at the corner bar when your ex-girlfriend was being brutally raped and murdered?" If she closed her eyes, she could still see the crime scene photos. It was enough to turn her stomach.

"Hell no!" Willis almost shot to his feet in indignant rage. "I would never—"

"The bartender doesn't remember seeing you there." Alexis read off of her notes.

"He was probably just as drunk as we were. Guy couldn't hold his liquor any better than we could." Willis reasoned.

Alexis beamed and asked her next question before Keats could stop her. "Should we add violent drunk to your list of attributes, Mr. Willis?"

"I would never hurt Mary!" Willis shouted.

"Maybe not when you-you're sober, but that wasn't the c-case was it?" Alexis ground her teeth in frustration as her words started to jumble together.

"I would never hurt Mary." Willis repeated, this time quieter.

"You know what I think, Mr. Willis? I think you used your key to get into her home—I'm sure she didn't even remember that you still had one—and then faked the break-in to put yourself above reproach."

"Miss Davis' wild guess is entertaining sure," Keats growled, "but I was under the impression that we were here to get my client's side of the story."

Alexis shot him a dirty look, but she couldn't ignore the 'sustained' response that boomed from Judge Edgecroft. "I'll rephrase." Alexis promised.

"You'll leave it alone, Miss Davis." The judge argued.

"Your Honor..." Alexis practically whimpered.

"Miss Davis." He replied sternly.

"Did...?" Alexis cleared her throat and tried to start again. "Did?" Struggling to get her words out, she pressed on. "Did your decision to visit Mary's have anything to do with her alleged new boyfriend?"

"What new boyfriend?" His surprise was totally fake.

"Mr. Alan Dasher." Alexis clarified for him. "Did you, say, interrupt a lover's moment—?"

"What? No, of course not!" This time, he was on his feet, his fists poised at this side.

She smiled at his reaction. "Which is it?"

"Which is what?" Her plan to confuse him had worked.

"Miss Davis, rephrase." Judge Edgecroft demanded.

"I apologize, Your Honor." Alexis blinked, trying to clear her vision.

"Are you alright, Counselor?" It was the judge's concern that caught her off-guard.

"Perfectly fine." Alexis assured him. "Did you interrupt a lover's moment," she began again, turning toward the accused, "or did you stumble into Mary's home inebriated with the intention of inflicting bodily harm?"

"Neither." Willis countered with a smooth smirk.

"Need I remind you that you are bound by law to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"Your Honor, my client answered the question. It's not his job to make her job easier for her." Keats insisted, on his feet.

"Overruled." Judge Edgecroft snapped. "Maybe he needs reminding."

"Your Honor?" Keats' voice was laced with panic.

Alexis braced her right hand against Willis' chair half afraid she would accidentally touch him. Her legs were wobbly again. Maybe she should give the case over—NO! No, she wouldn't do that! "I'll ask again, Mr. Willis? What was your intention for stopping by Mary's home on Thursday night? You see, I assume you did, since no one remembers seeing you, your eyes are twitching, and you're far too calm for a man who just attended his ex-girlfriend's funeral."

"As I told you already, I wasn't at Mary's." Willis' answer was demobilizing but she wasn't sure why.

"Miss Davis, do you need to take a recess?" Judge Edgecroft again.

"No." Alexis lied.

"Then proceed so we can get to lunch." His gruffness was lost behind a kind smile.

Alexis thought she smiled back, but there was no way to be sure. "I have no more questions, Your Honor." She informed him, turning around too quick. Her legs began to tremble furiously and it was all she could do to cross the room. Her seat was within reaching distance. But she never made it there. Her knees buckled and she went crashing, her face slamming into the unforgivable floor.