My time with this show began when Erica was in her Phantom of the Opera phase. (let's see - and Ryan was on the lam, Greenlee was just beginning to stir up trouble, and we had the epic love story of Scott and the Pigeon Hollow Virgin). It was quite an introduction, to say the least. I came in a little late and right in time for some of the more controversial periods of the show, and I wish I could've seen it in its golden era. But even though I wanted to throw something at the TV more than a few times, I was moved just as many times. I really connected with this show and do still miss it, as I'm sure we all do.
It's finally a new day in PV…..
####
Cara put the sharp instrument down and turned to the head guard, who'd finally seen fit to come in for the morning. "He was supposed to be in protective custody. How did this happen?"
The man just shrugged. "Can't be everywhere at once. Things happen, especially here. Besides –"
"He's been in and out all night." Something wasn't right, but she couldn't think about that now.
She settled for addressing a rare clean spot on the wall, not being able to decide which of the surrounding sights or faces disgusted her more. "He got hysterical, and I could barely keep him still."
Cara chanced a glance at her newest patient and ground her lip until she tasted blood. "Given his circumstances, we've got no choice."
####
Sometimes, she'd felt like the stranger, like some impostor or party crasher that had snuck into the postcard family moments. Watching the two man-boys jostle each other while one talked over the other; laughing and sometimes joining in on their goofy jokes and pranks only they could really understand: those kind of things weren't supposed to be for someone like her. And she sure as hell would never be the cookie-baking talk-to with the apron.
"….and there he was, in all his blue-haired glory. If I-"
"Hey, it was just the latest shade of black."
"In Smurfland, maybe."
"You were just jealous that you couldn't pull it off."
She smiled as maybe the only other person who could appreciate the challenges in becoming an expert on Martin-speak squeezed her hand and gave her a good-natured eye-roll.
Fresh from her latest miracle – the older woman was gaining quite the reputation for having nine lives – Dixie had sat her down one day amidst a mauled turkey and a cranberry-smeared table. Amanda had gotten the real low-down on all the things she'd only heard about through town lore, vague memories, or Opal's ever-churning gossip mill. Since then – since the time she'd been more than assured that Martins did not, in fact, have a halo hiding in the sock drawer and that they did, in fact, like their 'angels' with a little dirt on the wings – Dixie and herself had settled into a nice rapport. Amanda might call it a friendship, even.
With a glance and without a word, they rose and joined their respective Martin men as the two grew serious in their talk with their dad.
Jake interlaced his wife's fingers and his voice lowered in that way it did when all the wise-cracking was gone. "The agency finally got back to us. It's gonna happen soon, Dad." His eyes lifted to hers. She smiled and nodded. "We're gonna get our little girl. With her mom's spunk and my –"
"Tragic dancing skills, poor kid."
Jake gave his brother a look that let the former know that particular observation would be paid back in kind later. "My totally awesome sense of humor, she'll be set for life." He tilted his head, giving her full view of that twinkle in his eye that nothing could quite extinguish. "All she needs is the gramps with the candy in his pocket and the motivation to spoil her rotten. Think you're up to the task?"
The kind eyes, one of the first set she'd felt acceptance from, remained closed. It still got to her, watching her father-in-law - his face frail but still so remarkably full of life - continue his 365-day and counting sleep. Unexpectedly, just a look or an offhand word brought back memories she'd rather forget. This time, the buzzword was 'gramps.'
Amanda leaned over and brushed a kiss against her husband's clean-shaven cheek. She still missed the stubble burn, but the agency rep had told them both to themselves as 'polished' as possible, so said stubble had to go. "I'll be right back," she said. " I'm going to get us some drinks from the cafeteria."
He winked at her (his lingo for OK), and she tried not to feel guilty about the fact that what she really needed was a time-out.
"Just coffee for me and the lug," he said, motioning to Tad.
"Hey, now I've been called a lot of things, some I can't mention in the company of these fine women, but I draw the line…"
Amanda left the brothers to their light bickering, grateful for Tad's distraction. She sensed her brother-in-law might've just understood.
"Would you like anything, Dixie? Or to come with?" She softly nudged the other woman, who had a far-away look in her eyes and a tense posture that Amanda had seen on a couple of other occasions. "Dixie?" she said louder, but not enough to drown out the telenovela providing proper background noise.
Dixie started, rubbing her head. The dazedness that masked over something Amanda couldn't quite identify was quickly fading.
"You okay?" Amanda asked
Dixie smiled, less broadly than before, but still with that same reassurance that must've worked wonders on her school kids. "I'm fine. I think I'll stay here. Just a coffee for me, too. Milk -"
"No sugar," Amanda finished. "Got it."
Just as easily, she knew that her husband would -
"Babe?"
Right on cue, summon her back for a quick kiss.
Just as easily, her lips curved against her husband's at the expected response from the other side of the bed. "Get a room."
Raising her head, she responded without missing a beat, "We're already in one."
"Touche."
Amanda smiled to herself as she left the hospital room. Maybe she was getting the hang of this Martin schtick, after all.
Within minutes, she was gathering her loot from the cafeteria. She stopped to let the steaming cups cool off a bit. Truthfully, she stopped to let herself cool off a bit as well.
"I'll see your four and raise you five." The tell-tale voice from behind made her jump slightly. It could only belong to one man.
"One for myself and Kendall, three for Erica."
She turned to find Zach Slater lounging and nursing his own steaming cups at the next table. "Well, I know from experience that you don't want to keep Erica Kane waiting," she observed.
He shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. "Long line, what can I say?"
They both observed the empty line a few feet away. "How's Joe?" Zach asked.
Amanda hesitated. She'd never had anything against Zach, per se. In fact, this was probably the longest conversation they'd ever had. Still, given how things with Greenlee and his wife were…
"Not to worry, I'm not a spy for the enemy, though I might have the look for it."
Damn, she envied his ability to keep that 'blank face with a sarcastic slant to it' thing of his going at all times. It did relax her, though. "The same," she said, twirling her cup.
The very same as the day that the boy she'd played in the mud with and later slung the mud with put a misplaced but nevertheless effective bullet in his chest.
She still couldn't reconcile that boy with the man that was locked behind electric fences and steel bars now.
Then again, maybe she could, better than anyone.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Zach offered sincerely.
"JR-" It was like the unmentionable name, the cursed word fit for Harry Potter. She sensed Zach got it, though: the need to maybe not make sense of it, but just to acknowledge. "Sometimes, I'm not sure he ever really had a chance." She tapped the cup's rim. "Families can really and truly suck."
"That I do know. The ones you make, though, they're the real crapshoot. You go all in, and you either go home broke or a millionaire."
He was contemplating those swirls equally as hard as she had been.
"No guts, no glory, though. Especially for a couple of fighters like us, right?"
His fingers drummed the table, and his eyes studied her. He must've known that little trick wouldn't work on her, so he settled for just shaking his head and offering one of those rare half-smiles, half-smirks. "Just gotta hope you don't get smashed in the face by the puck in the process."
"But that's half the fun, right?" they finished together.
Amanda chuckled for the both of them. She liked the guy. He was…blunt. Her style.
The equally blunt and angry face striding swiftly their way had her rethinking that assessment.
She gathered the cups in a neat circle and casually crossed her arms, raising to meet Greenlee Smythe. with a smile.
Nah, she decided. Blunt worked just fine for her.
####
He supposed he should do something.
The two women glared. Hands clenched and eyes squinted, but hey, at least the hot cups of Joe hadn't been used as –
"Hey, hey." He artfully stepped between the adversaries. Just another day in Pine Valley.
Well, the silent stare wasn't going to have its effect here.
"The emergency room's that way, so at least you can save yourselves the gas. But I'd really rather not have to take either of you lovely ladies on a field trip, so let's just take our coffee and be on our way, huh?" He grabbed his own tray for emphasis.
"She -" Greenlee raised a finger.
"Is picking up some coffee for her family, who happen to be waiting for her right now."
The smaller woman's face immediately dipped. She was capable of the occasional 'kick yourself' moment, although it never lasted too long. Zach could see that inner debate raging inside: should she ask? Offer support? Do the truly unthinkable and say 'I'm sorry.'?
He decided to rescue her from the effort. Ever the dark knight, he was. "Maybe you should catch up with your friend, Amanda." He motioned to the entering Randi Hubbard. It was quite a party in the café today.
The other woman considered her options. Snappy comeback? Graceful exit? Fist-fight? Thankfully, he knew this personality type well enough to correctly guess that her concern for her friend would tip the scales.
With a sigh, Amanda nodded. "See you later, Zach. Say hi to Erica and Kendall for me." The small smile evaporated as she left. "Greenlee, always a pleasure."
Greenlee waited until her former employee was a safe distance away before asking, "Has Joe –"
"No," he said. "They're just visiting."
He waited expectantly, and she didn't disappoint. Ms. Smythe had a natural aversion to silent spells. "And Erica? That's why you and Kendall are here, right?"
Taking a sip of the coffee, he didn't flinch at the steam, although it could still burn. "She's waiting to resume her treatments. Kendall's with her."
"Waiting with her usual wonderful bedside manner, I'm sure."
He grinned. "Certainly."
"Maybe I should –"
"What? Triple-team the poor nurses?" he chided her. "Just give them some time. Kendall knows you support her, and Erica does, too, even though she'd never admit it."
"She may have this annoying habit of looking like a million bucks despite everything, and she might be, well…Erica….but I don't want to see anything happen to her, Zach. This town would have more than a pint-sized hole in it. And Dad –" she trailed off.
Zach admitted the one thing Erica would not. "It'd be nice if he was here."
"It'd be nice if he knew," Greenlee shot back. "I'm sorry, I know I promised not to say anything."
"Do you know when he'll be back?"
She shook her head. "He says the case in Georgia is taking up 24/7. If he knew he had a reason to come back -"
"The new wife should be good enough reason."
Greenlee shuddered. "Don't mention her."
"Duly noted." The subject change was a nice cover, but it didn't quite account for the…differences he now noticed in her. "So, what brings you to this fine establishment?"
She shook her head, as if shaking away a dream. When she looked up, the Greenlee he knew was back, but still not quite. "Just a routine check-up." She waved it off. "But…I think I'm gonna reschedule. Jake's obviously got a lot on his plate anyway. So, see you, tell Kendall I'll cover today, don't brood too much, and goodbye."
With a hug and a quick flourish, she was gone. He'd become accustomed to the whirlwinds, though. One had even seen fit to play smash-em-up with his car once.
In the wake of the latest whirlwind, he made his way to the elevator. The coffee had cooled considerably. Just the way he liked it. His lovely wife, on the other hand –
Amanda's words played in his head.
Families…
They could either be the best thing that ever happened, or the worst thing. Look at Junior. Conventional wisdom said he had all the advantages growing up: nice house, nice bank account, a stable family some of the time, and a father that despite all his faults, loved the kid. Yet…
There was the dark legacy.
Just moving the finger ever-so-slightly. A fraction, really.
No mercy, no remorse.
He knew that feeling. That ritual. And he knew equally that given the chance, he wouldn't change a step.
Junior had always been someone he could read a little too well. The story was old and well-worn. Familiar.
Reaching the wooden door, he peered through the window, and there she was: Erica Kane unplugged. The sparsest of hair, tired, reddened eyes, and, yes, skin that free from the glamorous glaze, dared to show a wrinkle.
One year ago, one flesh gunshot wound, one trip to the ER, one clean bill of health…save the advisory to come back for 'a few more tests.'
Just as he had those few days later when Erica had received the diagnosis, he gave them their moment, because he knew that when he pushed through that door, THE Erica Kane would be back in full force again…the Erica that thought she could overpower the breast cancer with one simple, "I am Erica Kane!"
He listened to their soft whispers instead, giving the quieter, no less forceful Erica her time.
"I think we're close, Mom. By this time next year –" Even in the muted softness, he could hear his wife's fierce emphasis on the 'next year.' "You'll be a—well, I'll be a mom again."
He smiled as his wife quickly corrected herself. In sickness or in health, some things never changed, including the Kane aversion to certain words.
"That's wonderful, honey."
"I was thinking, I haven't run it by Zach yet, so you're the first to know."
Another thing that didn't change: secret-keeping and eavesdropping. But the actions that had characterized too much of their relationship - on both ends – at least maybe they were for a good cause now.
"If we have a little boy, I'd like to name him Josh."
His hand went numb. Looking down, he realized the fierce grip on the doorknob had cut off circulation.
####
"Just lift, and steady. Steady."
He almost said 'like at the shooting range' but, thankfully, resisted that slip.
His hand slid up her wrist and the slight trembling abated. Or maybe he'd just absorbed it, because he was certainly feeling tremors himself now. "And curl the finger."
The pen hit the desk with a too-quiet clatter. Brot pushed away the faint sound and forced a smile. "The doc said that we could try –"
"Don't castle me!"
He didn't look away this time. They wouldn't ignore it. As the trembling moved to her face, he simply moved his hand in turn. The fingertips rested on the most amazing cheeks he'd ever laid eyes on, even to this day. They were rivaled only by the beautiful eyes that rested above them. Softly, he massaged away some of the turmoil in those troubled eyes.
"I….I meant please don't coddle me." Natalia took her own deep breath, drawing out each word. "I can do this."
His smile was genuine this time. "We can do this, and we will."
Her determination to get back on the force had not been set back by yesterday. It had only strengthened. She'd demanded that they come to the appointment with the occupational therapist early. They should be done in time to meet the speech therapist later.
Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to the two familiar faces looking through the window. "I think you've got a cheering section today."
Natalia followed his trajectory, and the shudders vibrating his hand diminished just a little more. "Go stay…go say hi."
He turned back to her, and she graced him with a sight that helped him believe today was truly a new start: her smile. "The doc and I…got some work to do when get she here."
Brot listened to the lingering scars. In some ways, the two of them were a perfect match. His beared crosses were evident d in the angry marks on his face. Her face was just as stunning as ever, but the gnarled gashes were buried deeper. Hidden, but still visible, still audible. And the shared emotional scars - they would heal those together. Brot moved forward. As their lips found solace, his fingers stroked her hair and settled on the only physical trace of the bullet that had changed all their lives one year ago.
One year and one day. Today was a beginning.
Reluctantly, he pulled away. She mouthed 'Go' with that mischievous smirk that let him know the love of his life would not be taken down by a perp, a hovering family, or a steel plate in her head.
He met Jesse and Frankie down in the lobby. They had subtly made themselves scarce to give he and Natalia a private moment. Randi and Amanda were beside the drink machine, talking. The mini-family reunion was interrupted by the sharp cling of the ER entrance. It should've been a routine sound by now, but something still compelled them as, in unison, they turned toward the new arrivals.
####
An icy grip seized her wrist. When Cara tried to pull away, the vise only tightened.
JR Chandler spoke his second sentence in 24 hours. The first had only been an endless litany of one word: Babe.
"What happened?"
The calm glare –the sure mask – she was giving him had its desired effect. He released his hold on her.
She let the seething anger the mask hid sharpen her words. "We're saving your life, Mr. Chandler."
His eyes were unblinking. Unreadable. And they fastened on her own. "You should've let me die."
She couldn't argue the point. The hospital doors opened, stripping away the chill outside. Inside was still sub-zero. As she observed the five gathered individuals who would likewise not argue the point – including the man who had already put one bullet in the once-Chandler heir – she thought that her patient just might get his death wish.
Seeing some of the many faces that would want to hurt the beaten man below her (her own face surely included), she couldn't deny that last night was no accident.
And someone just might want to finish the job.