The Unkindness of Ravens

by Phoenix365

It's been one year since that fateful party, and the anniversary casts a pall over PV's citizens. To get past it, they've gotta go through it.

52. Chapter 52

So…it's been a while, huh? I am sorry for the delay, but I wanted to get all the pieces fit together right before I posted the big - and it is BIG, I know - finale. I thought about splitting this up into parts, but ultimately I think that it works better presented as one unified (and very extended) epilogue.

The inspiration for the final chapter came from something I'd read about the originally proposed ABC finale. The idea had supposedly been to take the characters forward in time. Not necessarily in the way that the online version did, but more as glimpses, or snapshots, into the characters' futures. I aimed for the same kind of result, which will hopefully provide closure (as much as the word can truly apply) to this crazy-chaotic tale.

This has indeed been a crazy ride: a great and rewarding one for me personally. If you've enjoyed this story even a fraction of how much I've enjoyed writing it, then I can say mission accomplished. A sincere thanks for taking the ride with me.

Without further adieu…

####

September 23, 2013

In the marble's surface, she often saw reflections. The first time she had visited Marissa in the darkest part of the night, she'd only seen possibilities: crushed, dissolved, carried away by the unforgiving wind.

And the ghosts, always the ghosts.

In this slab - the fixture, the axis for all the others - images again etched a story. A story with a continuous interweaving rhythm, a chorus infused with the greatest pain, the most profound joy. Continuous, and in some ways unending….

Her story. Her family's story.

This town's story.

She touched the surface, which was never quite as cold as it should be, and smiled. "This is home."

"Yes, it is."

She didn't look up, didn't need to. They had searched for life, for love in the marshlands of Florida, in the glittering streets of Paris. They were travelers who'd ultimately been compelled...home. Bianca draped her hand over Kendall's, and they watched the story unfold, forever harbored and protected within the eternal spirit of the woman who was their cornerstone.

"She gave us the best gift, you know, even though we were too crazy-stupid to see it most of the time."

Bianca didn't so much see as sense Kendall's lips curve into their knowing smile. "And what's that?" she asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.

"Why, each other, of course." Their mother stepped between them, completed the mantra. "Strong Kane women."

Erica knelt, leaning forward and sharing one quiet secret with her mother. The soft words did not carry in the breeze, but Bianca heard them nonetheless.

Strength.

Home.

Unrelated.

Intimately related.

"That's what you taught us. I love you."

Erica breathed in deeply, and when she exhaled, the sparkle around her eyes did not come from the lone tear, but – Bianca knew - from something far more lasting.

Her mother wiped the tear, but the sparkle remained. "Is it time?" she asked, rising and turning to them.

Bianca took her mother's hand, then Kendall's. When a deeper warmth enveloped their hands, securing the bond, she nodded.

"It's time."

####

His life had been spent driving straight into the storm. Many times, he'd been the storm…thriving on that glorious swirl of chaos. All the while, the smaller, still substantial part of him searched for that eye that never brought the calm it promised.

Adam faces the crowd: this large but intimate circle of people that are his pirates, his mutineers: his shipmates. He raises a hand in acknowledgment of his partners. Nina, as per usual, brings forth the smiling face and the amiable wave. Caleb is content to accept the applause with a nod and a fidget. Adam's hand comes to rest on the shoulder of his son...their son. If someone had told him a year ago he would be sharing professional duties - as well as parenting duties - with Caleb Cooney, he might've secured said individual a one-way ticket to Oakhaven.

As the applause recedes, he searches the faces he has come to know so well. He recognizes every hard-won crevice, but his eyes fix on one face that stands apart not for its familiar features or its rapidly developing handsomeness, but for its light. Krystal kneels to whisper something in the boy's ear, and he smiles. Even in its flickering, muted brightness, AJ's smile is the true safe harbor from the storm. It has brought both Krystal and himself to a truce and brought both some measure of needed peace. It also reminds Adam of the true meaning of this day.

A memorial day redefined. A day of celebration, of progress.

Of hope.

Adam picks up the shovel from its place between the four pictures that have taken on a different, better role: guardians.

A collection of hands joins his own and together, they raise the phoenix from what had been smoldering embers a few short months ago.

Together, they break ground on All My Children United.

He can't quite tame that quirk of his lips when Brooke steps beside him.

Quietly, reverently, she places the time capsule that contains the messages and images of an entire town in its temporary home.

"Can you do this?" she asks, just as quietly.

He winks, and that pesky quirk transforms into something else entirely as he approaches the podium.

"I've been told I should say a few words, but if I'm being honest – and it's a quality I've strived to learn - I have never had a way with words that weren't gifted me by a speech writer. A friend of mine did give me a suggestion: a poem. I told her that someone – anyone – else should read it. I am certainly no poet, and this sentiment coming from me seemed like…well, like a bad joke. This friend, though..."His eyes connect with Erica's , and her own sly wink gives him all the motivation he needs. "She let me know in no uncertain terms that I was the appropriate, if perhaps ironic, choice to deliver these words."

All the motivation he needs to move forward.

"The Great and the Least,

The Rich and the Poor,

The Weak and the Strong,

In Sickness and in Health,

In Joy and Sorrow,

In Tragedy and Triumph,

You are ALL MY CHILDREN."

####

September 23, 2014

'I believe that bad moments come into our lives because we are supposed to learn something. Going through dark moments is inevitable, but it's up to you to hit the switch and bring in some light…'

Their flower girl: tiny dimples in full-force.

Their ring-bearer: the young boy who'd become so much more than just a case….the boy whose half-smirk, half-smile could at last be undeniably identified as that of a child.

The bridal party came next, comprised of three women exuding their own brand of beauty. One bore the classic features and the mysterious allure; one wore the luminous radiance born from unending strength, capped off by the dimples passed on to her namesake. The third, a more recent addition to their lives, possessed a quieter beauty empowered equally by innocence and intelligence. She smiled into the crowd, the red bow in her golden waves a tempered pink.

The last member of the procession, the centerpiece with beaming father as accessory, wasn't the figure he'd once pictured atop the wedding cake. Nor was it the face he'd reached out for when his life had literally been blown to pieces. The figure walking toward him, no longer out-of-focus but now crystal-clear, was simply the woman who had -with her sometimes-bristling personality but always-fighting spirit - put him back together.

She was simply his everything.

They'd chosen this day partly because it presented a break in his motivational speaking schedule. Mostly, though, they had selected this day as a chance to create newer, more positive memories….to begin a legacy that would always last.

When Natalia stopped in front of him, Brot took her hand and reached for the future.

'You can make that choice, and when you hit the switch, light will come in.'

(Note: The phrases in italics for this section are the words of JR Martinez (Brot), regarding his own journey)

####

He watched the spitball cut a mean curve and disappear into the muddy puddle.

Not exactly an Empire State Building view.

What the Hell am I doing here?

Good question, Counselor.

Of all the titles he'd slipped , or re-slipped, on in the last several years – son, brother, husband, ex-husband – 'counselor' was the one that could still knock him on his ass.

There were more than a few times he figured he'd be following in the orange-jumpsuited footsteps of his first Pine Valley guardian, Trey Kenyan. Taking the legal eagle' mantle from Jack, that was the real surprise. A surprise that, somehow, some way, had turned into one of the best things in his life.

Yet here he was, Mr. Clean and Respectable with the three-piece and the briefcase to match, straddling the rooftop of his old NY apartment and watching - with moldy bread in hand - for the pigeons that had decided to fly this particular coop long before he did. Since he'd taken the 'trust, justice, etc. etc.' oath, maybe he should be honest and admit that he was waiting for something else.

No, not waiting, because owning that would only make him more screws-loose than he was willing to admit.

Remembering: that's what he could call this…thing. Remembering was okay, right? Even reflecting, if you wanted to use a fancier word.

That's what people did when they were at one of those 'better make a left turn, buddy, or maybe a right, your pick' points in their life. Like, maybe, when you'd just finalized your divorce from your gay best friend. Or when you had, in a twist of fate showing God indeed had a sense of humor, gotten your license to practice law even though you'd been convinced you'd have an easier time gifting Erica Kane with flannel PJs for Christmas.

That's what you did during those moments. You remembered – no, you reflected – on that day when everything was going to Hades in a handbasket back home while the biggest problem in your life was which pizza topping you were gonna order.

You remembered that girl that seemed to materialize right beside you, beautiful enough to be your guardian angel and just intoxicating enough to be the dancing devil on your shoulder.

Reggie hopped off the balcony and snatched his jacket. This wasn't a movie, and he sure as Hell had more important things to do than pine over some girl. Especially when he had halfway managed to convince himself that she was really some fragmented figment: a blip in his imagination that had lifted him up and sent him hurtling back to the ground, bruised but laughing like nothing else mattered.

Only a crazy person would think any different. Grade A-certifiable.

He turned to leave, but his path was blocked.

Widened eyes narrowed, bloomed, and then she greeted him with the shyest, most familiar smile. "I….I thought I was -"

Crazy. The word lodged in his throat, supplanted by a simple greeting. "Hi, Cass."

####

"Don't go."

His hand hovered on the handle. "What did I forget this time, my keys?" He made a show of rummaging through his pockets, forcing a short laugh. At least if he didn't look at her she couldn't see the beads of sweat on his brow. She couldn't ask him why his face was that color she was growing to tolerate, or why his eyebrow was twitching.

Each day, each hour they spent together, it got harder to force himself to go….to train his feet to walk away from her.

"You did not forget your keys." There was a hint of puzzlement in her voice. He'd found that while other people might see her speech and her mannerisms as flat, monotone, he could detect the subtle inflections. He didn't hunt them anymore; he just….listened. And now –

"I want you to stay so we can have sex."

Those keys he'd used as a shield earlier went tumbling out of his hand and clattered to the floor. He might easily follow suit.

No calm, collected, composed 'Excuse me?" or 'Pardon?' found its way from Peter Cortlandt's lips. Oh, no. Instead, he did face her, red face and clammy hands on full display. He managed to eke out a stuttering "What?"

"Did I say it wrong? I know other descriptions exist, such as 'sleeping together,' 'bumping uglies, ' 'knocking boots,' and 'making love.' But I am not sure if we will sleep afterward, I do not think you are ugly, neither of us is wearing boots, and love is not something you can make."

Her words were racing together. So were his thoughts, easily leapfrogging from shock to amusement to something of which he was rapidly losing control.

"'Sex' appeared to be the most logical term to use. Do you not want to have sex with me?"

He managed one forceful step, and it took everything he had 'not' to take her in his arms and show her how much he wanted just that thing. "It's not….that's not…" He adjusted his glasses and studied the same spot where his keys had fallen, fighting everything in him and letting Mr. Logical put on his coat. ""Lily, you haven't done this before, have you?"

"I researched."

The sharp intake of breath morphed into a coughing spasm, but he reigned it in….barely.

"I don't want to do the things that I saw in some of the videos, but I took notes on the basic mechanics."

For once, he was grateful her eyes were cast downward. The burning around his nose, his lips, across both his cheeks felt like it would set him ablaze. He took another step, a magnet drawing ever close to another in spite of its resistance. "It's more than mechanics and diagrams. We should have candles."

"Candles are a fire hazard."

"We should play nice, slow music."

"I like rap music."

"I should cook you a dinner and read you poetry."

"You would burn the food, and I have heard your poetry. It is not very good."

He couldn't help the small smile that emerged at her last refutation. "I want it to be more."

"Surveys with a large random population reveal that most people have sex by the fifth date. We have had many more dates than this number."

"Is that why you want to do this, Lily? Do you think we have to abide by some rule and fulfill some expectation? We don't." When her head rose, he was nearly knocked over again. Looking into her eyes, he saw the key to everything "I won't hurt you," he whispered.

And that was what terrified him, what kept him awake at night.

"I don't hurt when I'm with you. I'm not afraid to feel." The words were simple, light, and they rendered him powerless.

Powerful.

He touched her without thought, without logic, with all that was in him. He laid his hand across her chest, her heart ,and her breath hitched.

He immediately drew back, berating himself for pushing, for letting go of himself and -

Quietly, so quietly she pulled him back, and the hitch settled into a sigh, carrying the sweetest message he could ever hear: "I love you."

Soft knuckles traced his jawline, softer fingers removed his glasses…

And he saw clearly.

It wasn't her fear holding them back; it was his own.

Pete took the hand cupped in his palm and let go.

####

She had a broken heel – and her arms elbow-deep in best-left-unidentifiable goo - when she saw him again. That really should've discouraged the whole heart-stopping thing when he leaned against the door, wearing a tux and that smile.

Typical, though, that while some parts of her had completely lost the ability to function, others took on a life of their own. She stepped from behind the counter and walked toward him with as many dignified steps as she could muster, goo-splattered face and all.

Greenlee cleared her throat, prepped the polite, breezy greeting that would not betray the heavy ping-pong ball boomeranging inside her - that would not give away how she'd spent untold weeks counting the days until he would be back.

He blew it all to Hell in his inevitable, crazy-beautiful way by sweeping her into his arms and lifting her up: a-close-to-miraculous feat considering her current state. When he put her down again, he wore the evidence of her previous activity, along with that smile.

Always that smile.

"So, how did it go with David?" She should probably care about David attempting to make something good come from the whole Orpheus dream/nightmare, should probably care about the science that had saved her life and its potential for saving many more….in a legally acceptable way this time, of course. She should probably want the answer to her question more than she wanted to hear the sound of his voice.

HIs smile shifted into its natural default setting: a charming grin. "He's got me as his number-one representative, his wing-man, so how else could it go but awesome?"

"That's great. I'm happy that everything is working out the way it should." And she meant it. Every word.

Leo took a moment to soak in the surroundings: the large vat, the odor that was currently a suspicious combination of carnations and kerosene, and her…head-to-toe.

And there was that damn ball and its damnable bouncing dance again.

"I see the great Battle of the Cosmetics Queens is still in full-swing."

She crossed her arms and quirked a brow. Business stance. "I guess you can say Kendall and me are returning to our roots. Amanda and Randi have gotten some traction, I'll admit.t The competition might even be a good thing. You know how much I love my….fights."

He waggled his eyebrows, a twinkle underneath. "My bet's on you. Always."

"Will you be around to see my victory lap?" Her hand darted to the back of her head…to scratch a sudden itch, to pick a particularly stubborn bit of green goo from her scalp….to block his view of the furious blinking she had to do to keep her eyes clear, calm.

He retrieved the goo for her, capturing her hand in the process.

Damn it.

"In case we need to reestablish…" He titled her chin until she could see every subtle streak of color in his ever-changing eyes. "I'm staying." Just as the kaleidoscope drew her closer, he stepped back, hands in his pockets. "Of course, you know what that means. I'm like practically a totally hopeless newb around here now. I mean, no more BJs?" His light tone took on an edge of mock-horror. "Where's a guy gotta go to get his chili-cheese fries fix now? I'm really gonna need somebody to reacquaint me with all the places to be, and definitely the places 'not' to be. You up for the challenge?"

No one else could ever make her cry one minute and laugh the next, or pair the desire for a swift kiss with a swift kick in the… "Leo DuPres, are you asking me on a date?"

He straightened his tie and brushed his coat. "I know my budget's gonna be a little out of the champagne bubble bath and weekend trips to Paris zone for a while, but I think dinner and a movie might make for a good start."

She tapped her chin. "Throw in some ice cream and bandanas?"

His eyes danced, his grin tipped upward at the memory. "Naturally."

"Then it's a date."

A start.

####

September 23, 2015

"Your Honor, the facts of this case…"

Jack slammed said 'facts' on his desk and tried to rub the real facts out of his temples.

It didn't matter that this girl's parents weren't fit to raise a potted plant. It didn't matter that she'd managed to find a precious shred of security and happiness for probably the first time in her life. It didn't matter that his client had become a part of his niece's family…a part of his family. And it most assuredly didn't matter that this case was a farce cloaked in 'family values, best interest of the child' rhetoric.

He'd spent the past four years building his career around precedents and large-scale movements. This, though, was bringing him back – showing him once again every outline of every face, every story behind the statistics.

He had to break it down. Had to find that one kernel, that one irrefutable truth, and maybe, just maybe…

The tell-tale knock – three perfectly spaced raps on the door – was a welcome distraction that brought an even more welcome smile.

"Come in," Jack said, freeing himself from his desk.

It wasn't one welcome sight that greeted him, though. It was two.

"We really gotta do something about this whole hand-on-hip deal. It kinda makes you –"

Although he really, truly would have loved to hear exactly what wise observation his son was going to make, Jack opted to cut Reggie off with a bear hug instead.

"Jeez, Dad, dial it back." The admonition was accompanied by a smoothing of the young man's suit and a wide grin to match. Jack wasn't entirely sure the latter could be attributed to their latest reunion.

He pulled back, hands in mock surrender, and turned his attention to his second guest, who wore a more subdued – but no less radiant – smile. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi, Dad." When she gently placed her arms around him, he was glad that his hands had found a home in his pockets. Otherwise, they might have squeezed the wonderful girl in his arms for everything she was worth.

After he released his daughter, Jack placed a finger above his lip: a steadying motion that curtailed the tremorous sniff threatening to overtake him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, finally able to control his voice enough to ask the question.

Lily's fingers were brushing her brother's: their version of holding hands...of unconditional support. Two smiles grew against-the-odds bigger as Reggie cleared his throat, that swagger abandoning him even as he tried to keep the words casual. "Well, Lily and me were just wondering if you might be up for a double wedding. You see, she's gonna need somebody to walk her down the aisle to that guy whose butt I've promised not to kick, and I—I'm gonna need a best man. Tradition and all. So, whaddya say?"

Jack watched the two people before him: the scared, confused kids who had transformed into happy, confident adults...minus Reggie's current fidgeting.

My kids.

This time, he couldn't entirely hide the hitch in his voice. "I say that I'd be honored."

When he sat back down an hour later, the mountains of paperwork were stacked into neat hills, thanks in large part to his daughter. Atop the highest hill sat a frame that captured himself and his two visitors in an unguarded moment.

That captured everything, really.

Jack picked up his pen and began.

"Your Honor, what is the true definition of a family?..."

####

"Can you give us a minute?"

"Sure thing."

His lips lingered on her cheek, reminding her that no matter what may come, some things were constant.

When Jake left, Amanda looked into the eyes of her mother, wondering which woman would greet her: the shadow-reflection, the source of community legends and personal tragedy, or the odd, overbearing, but fiercely devoted woman that she once knew. That she still loved.

"Hi." That one word, by necessity, had to carry so much weight, so muck unspoken. It was their bridge across days, weeks, months….lifetimes.

"Hi, sweetie." In the small wave, in the smaller, unsure smile that accompanied the word, Amanda had her answer.

"How did—" When Janet spoke again, her voice was clear, focused, her eyes unwavering. "How did it go?"

Amanda couldn't say, even now, why she had told her mother about the screening. She'd convinced herself it was a way to make Janet see that her daughter was nothing like her.

The deeper part, the part with the little-girl voice that spoke to Amanda most at night, insisted that she just wanted - needed - her mom. Too often, she'd wondered if that voice was the approaching call of an enemy that would conquer her, just as it did her mother.

She'd thought it bitterly funny that one of the "tools" used to determine the course of her future contained the word STEP. She knew exactly what she might be stepping into, and she knew all too well that she was at the right age for the symptoms to begin.

Undergoing the assessments, though, was a needed step. Sharing the results with – reaching out to - the one person who could understand better than anyone, even Jake, was a step Amanda wanted to take.

Gazing directly into eyes full of hope, full of fear - full of herself - she took the step. "They didn't find any indicators of schizophrenia. It looks like maybe I'm gonna be okay."

Lips pursed, Janet looked down, nodding her head softly, repeatedly. Familiar dread coursed and spiked through Amanda. Her hand tensed, paralyzed, on the hard table. "Mom?"

Janet answered the summons, her forever-title, and her lips fortified into a steady smile. Her watery, wonder-touched eyes spoke the simple message before she ever uttered a word: "You're so much more than okay. And you always will be."

Still feeling that pull, that need, that connection with every fiber in her, Amanda asked the question that she had always feared: the one that might help her understand. "What's it like?"

Janet didn't need clarification. She straightened in her seat and folded her hands, as if she'd just been waiting. And the woman that began to speak had never been more real. "I think the main thing is the loneliness. It's so hard to let anybody get too close because you know, you just know with every fiber in you that they'll only hurt you. All my life, that's been the one life lesson I lived by – with Mother, with Nattie, even with…with your Daddy. But the real backstabber, the person that I could never really trust, was me. Maybe that's why I spent my entire life trying to be somebody else. For so long, I couldn't look at myself. And worse, I couldn't look at you, my baby girl, without feeling, without knowing that I would break you too some day. I would destroy the one good part of me. That's my real monster in the mirror. Every day, though, that monster gets further away. Today was the first time I couldn't even see her. But that scares me, too. She's my-"

"Your constant," Amanda finished. When her mother nodded, she added, "Maybe it's time for some new constants."

The hand that covered Amanda's did not feel cold, clammy, alien. It was a comforting blanket.

Brushing a thumb under her eye, Janet attempted to snap back into her sunny-smile, crafts-loving Oak Haven shell. "I guess it's time to say goodbye, huh?" That shell didn't quite fit anymore, though.

Amanda shook her head, turning to Jake. He disappeared through the door.

"Not yet." She turned back to her mother. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Some untold time later, Amanda studied her reflection as warm arms wrapped around her. "What'cha see in there, beautiful?"

She saw two figures in the corner of the mirror. No looming specters, no shadows—just a grandmother and her new granddaughter engaged in a care-free, spirited game of checkers.

Amanda settled back into Jake's embrace. Her answer was only one word. All that she needed.

"Hope."

####

She regarded her empty hands before watching the large round object that had been in them a second prior travel through the basket.

"When you suggested a basketball game, I was thinking more a nice, simple round of Horse. "

Her sister, who had easily swiped the ball back into her lap, smirked up at her. "Would that've really helped?"

"Hey, I've got a handicap of my own here." She pointed at her current footwear. Okay, maybe they weren't high heels per se, but close enough. Bianca nevertheless looked unimpressed. "I'll have you know I was a boss on the basketball rinks in Florida."

"I believe the term you're looking for is 'courts.' And boss? Really? I think that expressions took its bow about ten years ago." An arm arced, and the ball did a dance this time before taking its bow inside the net. That smirk made a reappearance. "I'm sure your expert eye identified that as a three-pointer."

Kendall rolled her eyes and flopped on the nearest bench. "You really are entirely too good at this."

Bianca wheeled up to her, but not before stopping to let her little pet bounce into her hands. "Gotta lead my team to victory at the charity invitational. Let Yasmin try and teach me some moves again. The student will—"

A head and an eyebrow raised in unison., which brought an abrupt halt to her sister's little tirade.

"What?" she asked, the red creeping into her cheeks a surefire indicator that she knew exactly 'what.'

"Oh, nothing," Kendall offered innocently. "It just seems somebody's really rubbing—"

"Don't start," Bianca groaned, the red getting a shade deeper.

"OK, OK." Kendall straightened, her voice light but losing the teasing edge. "Are you sure you're not trying to take out some frustrations on that poor net, though?

It was an invitation to open up: one that they could both answer easily in the past. It had taken time, but they were getting there again. She hoped this could be another step.

Bianca scratched her knuckles before taking a deep breath. As her eyes met Kendall's, she released it.

"You want to know how the case is going? Let's see. I'm single." She ticked off one finger. "I'm disabled. I've been involved in some 'less-than-respectable' cases in my career." A bitter smile accompanied the last finger tick. "And don't forget that I'm just looking for an impressionable young girl to seduce with my evil lesbian ways."

"That's—"

"Crazy?"

The word was uttered with too much….resignation. Kendall would be damned if she would let that stand. "Yes. They can't possibly know how much you've done for that girl." Kendall moved closer, taking her sister's hand. "They don't know you."

The sigh rushed inward, and the hand beneath hers tensed. She held tighter.

"That girl? You mean my catnip? Lonely, confused – no, let's call a spade a spade - f'd-up in the head?"

Kendall offered a smile and a head tilt. "Well, I am the template."

"And look what I did to you." Bianca attempted to jerk her hand away, but still, Kendall would not let go.

"Sure, you can heal those broken wings, and they adore you. They need you. Nothing makes you feel better, more worthwhile. The ultimate rush, especially when you put all your chips in. But you know what you're left with in the end of all that glorious connecting? You break, and you're broken." With a final, forceful tug, her hand slipped free. "You should know that better than anyone, Kendall."

Kendall surprised herself with her laugh. There was a time that laugh would've just been a nice cork for the scream that really wanted to wrench its way out of her throat. Not now.

"Is betrayal and mutually assured destruction the new joke du jour?" Her sister had clenched her waist: a shield they shared.

With a final chuckle, Kendall rested her head against the bench. "Haven't you ever 'noticed' how it can never be in between with us? We're either at rip-up-the-wedding-dress levels of 'disagreeing' – and all of our less-fine moments seem to happen at weddings, but I digress. We're either at each other's throats or we're so freaking together that total strangers have assumed we're, well….'together.'"

The smile returned when Bianca shot up in her seat. "What?"

"Yep," Kendall confirmed, never moving her eyes from the family of ducks that decided to set up shop nearby. "We were having dinner once and you went to do the whole powdering nose thing. This old lady – serious Mother Goose potential here – comes up to me, pats me on the arm, and says -"

"OK, OK, I think we can leave it there."

Kendall shrugged, grinning, while her sister visibly shuddered.

The grin disappeared at the quiet whisper. "You were willing to die for me," Bianca said.

"And I'd do it again." The resolve came without hesitation. She raised up, elbows on knees. In perfect alignment with her sister.

"Look, my point before was that we do extremes because we can't do it any other way. We're two sides of the same Erica Kane commemorative edition coin. What happened with Gabby, it hurt, but not for why you might think. It wasn't jealousy, despite what I thought or said then. It's just – did you really think, after everything we've been through, that I wouldn't have been your number-one supporter if we just talked it through?"

The answer didn't come immediately. When it did, Kendall heard - and felt - every word.

"I remember this theory from psych class that stuck with me. It says that there are basically two types of people: 'moving toward' and 'moving away.' Basically, your clingers and your runners. It's taken some time to see the obvious, but I've spent most of my life not exactly moving, but 'sprinting' toward some ideal that I think will make everything better. It's a rush to get there before that dream, that bit of perfect….shatters. I can't ever excuse what happened, just like I can't ever regret Gaby. But the circumstances, they could've and should've been different. I was so caught up in that rush toward perfect that I didn't realize I was really running away from these ghosts; I couldn't let myself think about the collateral damage. About how I was shattering the one thing that's been consistent since the day I found out I was pregnant with Miranda: you. I am so sorry that you ever doubted how incredibly essential you are - how much you mean to me."

"Maybe we should put a damper on the mushy proclamations, for the sake of old ladies everywhere." Kendall swiped at an eye, feeling the sting of old wounds. The thing was, though, all they were now was stings. Not fresh cuts, but scars. Battle badges, smoothed over by new skin. "Correction first: scuffed and bent, maybe. but never shattered."

Bianca's hair tuck and returning smile spoke her understanding.

"I guess if you're Ms. 'Moving Toward,' that makes me Ms. 'Moving Away.' Maybe I've got it backwards, because usually what I'm doing is driving myself nuts looking for something that's right there in front of me. I did it with my mom and dad. With Alice, especially. They loved me so much. They wanted me, but all I could see was our differences…all I could think about was the woman that didn't want me. When I came here, well, I don't think we really need to rehash that, but same pattern, different town. I liked to blame everybody else when things went south, but at night, mostly, that's when I'd hear the truth I'd made for myself: It's you. It will always be you."

Over time, that voice had faded, but on the blackest nights that cracked, aged echo still lingered: the voice of her father.

Before Bianca could say anything, Kendall held up a hand. She had to finish. "When I found out that the two people that I would trust with my life – the two people who'd made me stop believing in that voice – had kept something so monumental in both their lives away from me, that voice came back full-force."

"You -"

At Kendall's pointed look, Bianca stopped the thought.

"I know. That's what you need to know. I'm not saying that I don't still have my moments, but I don't get so, oh, what's that word –" She snapped her fingers, the smile making a comeback as Bianca let her supply the word. "Neurotic, I think that's it. But when that voice starts up, it's drowned out by all the voices of the people who've shown me in so many unspoken ways that they do believe in me…that they love me: Zach, Mom, my boys. You."

She took her sister's hand again, and this time she met no resistance. "Our screw-ups, our mistakes…our insecurities…" She gently nudged Bianca's shoulder. "They can't cancel out what matters. We didn't get past everything, we got through it. And I happen to think we're better for it."

Bianca's hand squeezed hers. "Kane power, huh?"

"Damn straight."

Bianca gave her a brief but fierce hug, which Kendall returned in full. Screw etiquette and decorum. As they broke from the embrace, she dramatically fanned her eyes. "OK, enough of the sister-power stuff. It's time to come up with a game plan for kicking some legal eagle ass. That is, right after I finish kicking some bootay with this thing." Kendall threw the basketball.

"Dream on." Bianca followed its path. Her eyebrow lifted when the ball hit the ground directly underneath the basket. "Or game on."

####

"That one team's not very coordinated."

"Well, it's not figure skating, so they're not really about the –"

"I mean, who would be caught dead wearing those two colors together?"

"Indeed."

"And that other team's outfielder –"

"Wing forward."

"Yeah, him. He's really, really….not hot."

"So he won't be the next contestant on 'The Bachelor' ? He must be crushed."

"Oh, please. Uncle Zach. that guy would obviously be a better fit for a mugshot."

"Well, he is making a home out of the penalty box."

Zach glanced at his niece who, in contrast to his faded Wings jersey, sported a perfectly fashionable knit cap and matching sweater. It was the first time since the precocious middle-schooler had stormed through the door an hour earlier— demanding with all her exasperated Kane 'charm' to talk to Aunt Kendall – that the other, quieter fire (the one he had sensed brewing underneath) had cooled. He took the opening.

"I acknowledge that I'm missing that whole shopping guru thing, and I've got a hard head and two certified left feet."

This provoked a giggle out of the girl. "You're cool, Uncle Zach. But please, no dancing. I've seen your Electric Slide."

He offered his best gentleman's bow, which instigated another laugh. "I thank you for the compliment, m'lady. And the advice is duly noted." He made his hands into a leaden ball before placing them on his knees. This was the part he wasn't so good at. "I'm just saying that one thing I happen to be is a pretty good listener. You tell me something, it won't even pass the ears of my lovely wife. If she'd let me get a word in, that is. And don't tell her I said that."

The broad smile crinkled at the edges. Family trait. "It's just –"

The moment their front door opened, another one closed. When Kendall and Bianca entered the room, he could hear the lock click on that second door, louder than any door slam.

"Hey, Mimo, what are you doing here?"

"Please don't call me that." The girl's perfect posture had gone rigid. "I wanted to talk to Aunt Kendall, but she wasn't home, obviously." Those eyes that normally met their target full-force would not seek out anything but the floor. This was a more familiar family trait that Zach intimately recognized.

Kendall shrugged her satchel off, moving toward him. "Oh, I'm sorry about that. And I'm really sorry I left you in the clutches of HockeyGuy here." She swept her lips across his cheek, a teasing promise time would never temper. "Your mom spirited me away so she could continue on her quest to become the wheelchair league's version of Michael Jordan."

No response. That flashing 'warning' sign, especially when coming from a member of this family, was also too familiar.

Bianca approached her daughter, hand extended, and all Zach wanted to do was set off his own warning flare.

"Miranda, if you wanted to talk –"

Her hand snapped back with force as her daughter bolted from the seat.

"What, I should have scheduled an appointment? Maybe when you're not too busy with your replacement daughter. Why don't you go talk to her? She's the one you want anyway, the one who's not -" The young girl bit her lip, fighting the tremble. She turned away then, because the one lesson they had all taught her – for better or worse – was to never let them see you weak.

Exposed.

"Where is this coming from?"

His sister-in-law's words brimmed with shock and…inevitability. The answer, the one they'd always secretly awaited, silently lingered before it found its form.

"Why don't you just admit that you regret it?"

A little girl's plea cloaked in a whisper much older, much wiser.

"What?"

One word, soon joined by another, equally quiet.

"Me."

"How can you ask me that?"

I though you understood. He could hear it in Bianca's words. But they all knew that a nine-year-old's understanding – if such a thing even existed – would be quite different, and infinitely more complex, than an emerging young woman's.

Miranda did face them then, because that, at the end of the day, was what Kanes did. They confronted, even if it killed them inside-out.

"Tell me, Mom. Look me in the eyes and tell me you'll always remember that day….that it was the best day of your life. That you're glad you got a lifelong reminder of the guy who hurt you worse than anyone else ever could...who took everything away." The force in her voice dropped, free-fell. "Is that why you killed him?"

The silent chasm extended endlessly, punctuated only by the brawl flickering on the screen.

Penalty box.

####

"Binks, can I talk to Miranda for a few minutes?"

"Sure, okay. I'll just…I'll be in the kitchen." The shuddering sigh that stood in front of her sister's answer told its own story.

"I'll join you. I need some comfort food after that game." Zach waved awkwardly at the TV before attempting to rise from the couch, but an ever-softening voice - scarcely a whisper - stopped him.

"Can you stay, please?"

Kendall had never heard her niece sound so…vulnerable. The quietly lingering word had paralyzed her husband, and he looked to Bianca, who nodded gently before wheeling out of the room.

Even as Kendall motioned Miranda to retake her previous seat beside Zach, she could almost feel those recognizable walls going up. She intended on knocking them down before they had a chance to make their prison. Taking the seat opposite Miranda, Kendall constructed a different kind of wall around the girl. She pushed a loose hair back before Miranda had a chance to do it herself and uttered their code-breaker: "What's up?"

"It's nothing, really."

"It doesn't seem like nothing, Miranda. Come on, you braved hockey pucks and your mom's wrath to come talk to me, so -"

"They're just jealous because the boys like me better than them. Can I help it if I'm more interesting and have a much better fashion sense?"

She couldn't help the chuckle at that very Erica turn of phrase. "Who?"

"Just some of the 'people' at school. They're not worth my time, anyway. I told them so." A mini hair-flip capped the assessment. "They were only looking for something to…to get to me."

A million and one – that 'one' the most lingering – emotions, reactions, expectations, and questions filled Kendall. "And they found out about -"

"Yeah, they know it all, from AJ"s mom and dad playing house with me when I was a baby all the way back to the day I should have - " She forced those words back again. "What details they didn't know, some of their parents were happy to provide. It doesn't matter, though. I overreacted. It's just that…"

Kendall supplied the words her niece could not. "It made you think about things?"

"I don't see how she could look at me and not see him every day, how anybody could love something like –"

"You?"

Miranda's silence was answer enough.

"You know some of 'my' history, but I never told you the more messy parts." The past was before her, laid bare. "When I first came here, I hated. That was my grand talent, and by God I was going to use it to its fullest. I hated my adopted parents. I hated your grandma. I hated your mom. Most of all, I hated myself. The things I did, the way I felt, it was always about lashing out. It was about cutting everyone else before they had a chance to cut me. I was going to be the monster that my father made."

She gingerly wiped away the tiny tear that had escaped down her niece's cheek before swiping at her own traitor.

"What happened?" Miranda asked, struggling so hard to maintain that twenty-year-old trapped in a twelve-year-old's body front. For once, failing miserably.

And for once, Kendall's tears weren't born of regret. "You did," she said.

"Please don't say that what 'he' did was the ray of sunshine that lit all your lives."

The hurt all wrapped up in a nice blanket of snark. That, she understood intimately. Only one counter.

"No, it was one of the hardest times of our lives."

Honesty.

"We fought, we raged, we cried until we didn't have anything left to give. But you know what we also did? We got stronger. We got to really know each other. To….love. When we were at our absolute lowest, your grandma looked me in the eyes and told me that she saw me. Not my father, but me."

"Grandma loves you." It wasn't a question, just a 'well, duh' statement delivered as only her niece could.

"I know." The truth – that absolute conviction - resonated.

"And I know a little something about letting fear cover you up."

Kendall watched another wall thankfully crumble. Zach now had his niece's full attention.

"Your father's family – my family – it's not something anybody would ever want on their ancestral tree. My brother….he was a sweet kid but I never knew the man he became. Our father killed something in him, something that he needed to help that sweet kid find his way out of the dark. I'm so sorry for that. And I spent a good percentage of my life running away from that legacy, believing that if I never stopped moving then I would never be claimed by it I was terrified to be a dad. A father maybe, but a Dad: that's a title you've got to earn. .I didn't think I was worthy."

"You're a great dad." Another simple, undisputed truth spoken by Miranda. "I wish…"

She didn't finish the thought, but the gruffness mixed with the gravel indicated that Zach heard every unspoken word. "C'mere," he said, enveloping the girl on his chest. He rested his chin on Miranda's head, eyes shining at Kendall. "You're not ever getting rid of me, kid. I hope you know that."

"Yep, you're stuck with both of us," Kendall added.

"I don't wanna get unstuck," Miranda replied, her words muffled against Zach's jersey. That brought an easy laugh from all three.

Zach put his hands on the girl's shoulders, drawing her back. A light took over her face when he tucked that phantom strand of hair behind her ear. "You keep running and you only get sore feet. That's my great pearl of wisdom. Took me a while to realize that." His eyes shone at Kendall again before returning to his niece. "But it's something I'll never forget."

Miranda looked between them and then nodded once, resolutely. "I think I'm gonna go haunt your kitchen now."

Kendall winked at her niece. "Sounds like a plan."

"Thanks, guys, for the pearls. For everything."

"Any time," they proclaimed together. It was kinda scary how in sync they were getting. Just like an old married couple.

In it for the long haul.

Kendall watched Miranda leave. "They're gonna make it."

"Yep, they're made of the strong stuff."

Before, those words might've been BS meant to cover up his belief that the outcome for all of them would be anything but 'okay.' Now, though, when Zach slid an arm around her and squeezed, Kendall knew the words were all truth.

"I think we should make that visit now," she said, motioning to the door. "Give them some alone time."

Zach nodded, taking her hand and leading them onto and off the porch.

When Bianca had first told her about seeing Zach at the graveyard, Kendall hadn't known what to think, or feel. When Zach later reluctantly confirmed that he had been the source of those faithful flowers on Josh's grave, she had felt too much: sadness, anger, the guilt that had nibbled at her since the day she had woken up to her new reality. And deeper, powering all else: love.

It hadn't been easy, and sometimes it had been nearly crushing. Day by day, though, they had gotten to that place they were meant to be. Not moving away or moving toward.

Moving forward, together.

Now those graveside visits, where so much had been laid to rest, were theirs to make, together.

At the entrance, Kendall turned to Zach, taking the hands of the man that she had hated and loved. Always loved. She gazed down at the life growing between them. "The one thing I want for her most is to never be afraid or alone. I want her to know that she's got us, her brothers, Bianca and the girls, and two grandmas that would take on the world for her." Kendall smiled, thinking of Erica and Alice: two women who couldn't be any more different in many respects, and two women who couldn't have been more similar in the ways that mattered. "Miranda's right, you know. You are a great dad, and we're gonna give our little girl the greatest family she could ask for."

Zach placed his hand – a hand roughened, yet a hand with the gentlest touch – on her stomach.

"I know," he said.

Their girl, in true fashion, joined in with an affirmative kick.

"I hate to break it to ya, Daddy, but I don't think we've got a future hockey player on our hands here…this girl's gonna get her golden bling in soccer."

Zach groaned, that twinkle in his eye eclipsing the dark night.

####

It was this moment. The one she'd known would come; the one for which she could never truly prepare.

They'd begun the conversation after she got Miranda back for the second time. After her heart was restored for the second time. She'd known then it was just a warm-up, however. Looking into those eyes that mirrored so much, all of the carefully chosen words fell away. All that remained was what was in her heart.

Her truth.

"I had nightmares every night, every moment. For weeks, I didn't tell anybody, I didn't let anybody in. I retreated as far as I could inside myself so nobody could reach me, touch me. Hurt me. There were a few people, including your aunt, who cared enough to pull me out. One of them pulled me off a ledge."

When her little girl sucked in a shuddering breath, when her lip trembled in that familiar way, Bianca wanted so badly to stop …to say different, easier things

She knew that she couldn't.

"The day I found out I was pregnant was the same day I killed him. That look in his eyes after I told him, that ''look' that hadn't changed at all…it wasn't just me anymore. I couldn't let him hurt you, this tiny idea that grew more real every moment. I felt that connection from the start. I need you to know that. Most people would probably call it mother's instinct: protection. But it was more. And for me, it was always, 'always' there." The numbness she had wished for then had a way of laying its own trap. It was a lesson hard-earned. "After…after it happened, there were so many things, so much confusion. I ended up in the waiting room of a clinic. Do you know what stopped me, what made me listen to that connection between us and realize what it meant?"

Miranda had braced her shoulders, masterfully controlled that renegade lip: the defense mechanism was coming. "Obligation? Or a few protesters waving signs outside?"

Bianca's response was instant. "Your aunt."

"She made you feel guilty."

"No." She smiled at the memory of how that other connection had started: the other connection that defined so much of her life "She told me to do what I needed to do. She told me that she loved me no matter what." When Miranda stood up and faced away from her – those shoulders a continuous fort – Bianca still continued. "I had my first real conversation with you that day. We talked for hours. We talked about your Aunt Kendall and how you were gonna grow up to be that same incredibly loving person. We talked about the moments big and small we would experience together. We talked about how I finally realized what created that connection - what would always help us build the future we wanted: love." Even as the shoulders began to shake, even as that fortress crumbled, Bianca continued. "You were my reminder…my reminder that light can always get through the dark. You were my hope." The tremors in her voice somehow made the next words stronger. Solidified the truth. "You always will be, and I know for too long I lost sight of that hope. You and your sister will always be my purpose. My motivation. My everything. We're strong separately: it's in our genes. But we are infinitely better together. If you need time, I understand." Part of her felt compelled to leave. To give her daughter that time. "I want you to know that I will always be here."

She remained, steadfast. She wouldn't leave, not as long as there was breath left in her body.

When a weight settled in Bianca's lap, she held tight.

Not ever.

####

September 23, 2016

The last surprise party had befallen her when she was 16; it had ended with her crying in the bathroom.

Evaluating the collection of mostly smaller guests , she could admit a change in her stance on surprises. Two of those guests came strolling up to her, with an additional surprise: both were smiling—as in simultaneously, as in at the same time.

As in together.

Yes, some surprises were pretty damn good.

"OK, spill. How'd you two manage to pull this off?" Bianca crossed her arms, on high alert at the positively conspiratorial look the two shared.

The older girl shrugged, while the younger busied herself with evaluating her suddenly intriguing fingernails.

"With a little help from our friends," Jun said. "Gabs was all about the decorations, as expected. And Brot and Natalia loaned us Logan. He bakes a mean cake, I must say." The tenderness that completely took over Jun's whole stance spoke of her still-strong bond with the boy. They'd been each other's lifelines, and Bianca was grateful for that.

She also couldn't help but notice how the girl's eyes took on a decidedly different glint when her gaze shifted slightly to the left.

"Would one of those helpers be the young Mr. Porter, by any chance?" Bianca chided. At Jun's blush, she added, "It's okay to admit that you like him."

Miranda, in her breezy-bulldozer way, decided to enter the conversation. "Maybe she'll admit she likes Ty at the same time you admit that you've totally got a thing for Yasmin."

"What—who—that's…." The undignified splutter withered away gracelessly.

The smirk now being exchanged by two of her daughters –and when exactly did they become such bosom-buddy co-conspirators anyway? – did nothing to quell the heat currently lighting up her cheeks.

"Real smooth, Mom," Miranda observed.

They couldn't possibly know about that…arrangement. And besides, it wasn't –

"It's okay, you're just afraid to take the chance. You'll get there," Jun said, almost reading her mind. The simple words recalled a memory: a transformative moment in their relationship. Those words mirrored the ones she had spoken to Jun after the girl had shared her story of abuse…after she had asked the teenager to officially become what she already was: a part of this nutty, twisted, but loving family.

"It looks like Gabby could use some help," Jun said, clearing her throat and pointing to her sister.

Bianca's youngest had indeed gotten a bit too enthusiastic with the confetti.

When Jun bent down and hugged her, the embrace tightened as the girl whispered "Thank you."

With a quavering smile, Bianca nodded and released her eldest girl's hand..

After Jun went to Gabby's rescue, Bianca's eyes were again compelled to an image that in its own way had overpowered the room: a photograph that captured and froze in time a perfectly mundane, perfectly perfect moment between her girls and herself. In the image, eight hands simultaneously dove into the contents of their basket at the Miranda Center's Labor Day picnic. Each wore a contrasting but fundamentally similar smile the black and white rendering did not mute, but rather enhanced.

As she focused again, she noticed Miranda studying her with a wise look that invoked the wisest woman Bianca ever knew. It still amazed her how her firstborn could fully embody both her grandmother and great-grandmother. Then again, although those two women were polar opposites on the surface, they possessed a common spirit that united them and sustained them: the Kane fire.

Bianca returned the favor by studying her daughter. "So, I owe this wonderful little set-up to you and Jun? You make a pretty good team."

Miranda shrugged in an almost identical manner of the way Jun had earlier. "Eh, she's okay. I mean, the hair's totally hopeless and the wardrobe, less said about that the better. But otherwise…."

Miranda was truly an Erica Kane original, cloaking her compliment in a quick dismissal, still not quite willing to concede a bond that, despite a years-long struggle, had been forged. "And she's right about some things."

"Oh, about what?" Bianca really wasn't certain she wanted to hear this particular bit of insight.

Miranda moved beside the picture. "About you…and her." The girl cocked her head toward the picture, arms crossed in another stance that was entirely too familiar. "You know who took that, don't you?"

Of course she did. Even if her mind refused to acknowledge it, other parts could not. "Was she here?"

Cool-casual was failing miserably, and her daughter's slight head shake said as much.

"She helped us out, gave us this. She said it was you in a nutshell, but I think the exact words she used were 'shellnut.'"

The parts you don't like to show so much anymore. The real you. Those words, that mirror, crumbled the light joke.

"Oh." Funny how her hands, and more specifically the lines etching her palms, grew infinitely more fascinating. "She, uh, she…left ?" And there it was, her finger sweeping one lock of hair behind one flushed ear…that weakness she could never quite conquer.

"Yeah, she did. And if you don't wake up, Mom, one day she might decide not to come back."

She looked up in time to see her daughter offer a different hair flip, this one patented by a different Erica Kane: the all-business shark.

"I wasn't aware that you were such a fan of Yasmin. in fact, I distinctly remember when—"

"That was forever ago." Her daughter almost leaned against the wall before catching herself, apparently deciding that such a posture was not quite an acceptable level of chic. "I've matured since then. I just….I think I could see that thing you two have." Her daughter raised up a finger before she could even utter a word . "And please don't deny that there's a thing. Everybody knows it."

So much for discretion. But it was just sex, just—

"It scared me. I didn't want …" Miranda couldn't finish the thought.

"To get hurt?" To get invested. In some respects, she'd taught her daughter too well. "I know I've made promises before about being a family, and I know I've never been good at keeping those promises. I'm sorry."

More than you could ever know.

Miranda let her weight shift to her heels, all thoughts of 'chicness' forgotten. "I already 'have' a family, Mom. Sure, we're screwed up and dysfunctional, and we could probably wipe the floor with most of those actors on that old guy Jerry Springer's show, but I think our family's pretty awesome. Never boring. And I wouldn't trade it for anything."

There was that thing in her eye again, that pesky thing that was burrowing deeper.

"This family. You know what it taught me?"

"To be strong and fearless." It was the one reliable lesson, the one had always given them a hell of a chase.

Miranda's hand had slipped into hers. It was the hand of her little girl, but also the hand of everyone before her—more sure and certain than Bianca could have ever imagined.

"That it's okay to be scared…that the bravest thing you can do is admit you feel like peeing your pants sometimes. And even if you do, it's okay. " Her daughter had quite the interesting way with words, for sure. She had to smile at that.

" I didn't want you to get hurt all those times. I was scared. But now I kinda get that the real faith is being willing to take that chance….being willing to get hurt…to be scared….otherwise, you might miss out on something really great." She shrugged again, settling on an easy-complicated summary. "It's better to feel than not feel."

Bianca swept her daughter's hair back, running a thumb along a porcelain cheek. "How did you get so wise?"

Miranda winked, her grip getting stronger. "It's in the genes." Smiling, she moved both their hands to the picture. "Go get it, Mom."

Through a hazy veil that grew clearer by the minute, Bianca asked, "Can you make my apologies to our guests?"

Sophistication and wisdom flew out the window, trumped by unbridled tween enthusiasm. "Totally." Before releasing her hand, Miranda tugged it, her voice lowering to a whisper. "And Mom, ditch the scarf. It's so…retro."

With a roll of the eyes and a wink in kind, Bianca answered her daughter in kind. "Totally."

####

She adjusted the straps on the pint-sized backpack until Dora's smile was as fully on display as the little girl's who idolized her.

"Are you ready, angel?" Randi asked with a smile teetering threatening to give way to full-blown blubbering. At this point, she realized the question could probably be better applied to herself.

A comforting touch fought off the chill of the air-conditioned hall, and within seconds Frankie kneeled beside her. He gave his daughter a knowing nose pinch that always induced a full dimples-on-display grin.

"Ready and roaring," they said together, quickly followed up by the required roar, high-five, and cheek-to-cheek hug that made every doubt vanish.

"Can Uncle Ty come too?"

Randi patted those priceless dimples and said with proper wide-eyed wonder, "I don't think the teachers would like that very much. Uncle Ty might break the chair if he tries to sit in it." She laughed as that very image filled her mind. If anyone would test the patience of a preschool teacher, it would be her brother….especially if it meant honoring the request of his favorite niece. "He did give me this, though." Randi tucked a small brown object into her daughter's grasp.

"It's me." Angela held the tiny stuffed tater-tot before her like it was precious china.

The figure, with its simple eyes and mouth, had admittedly seen better days. After all, it had survived the eager exploits of one rambunctious Tyrone Porter. Randi would never forget the day she brought the toy home for her brother, who had been jealous he didn't have a Tater-Bro to complement her Tater-Gal. The admittedly offbeat toy had been the prize in a hard-fought bout with the local market's crane machine. Even though the toy barely even cost a dollar, one would have never guessed it judging by Ty's reaction. He carried the thing around faithfully in his pocket every day, as if it were some kind of good-luck charm. When he pulled it out of his pocket a few days ago, with a sly-shy smile plastering his face, Randi had been amazed, amused, and touched beyond measure. The fact that her brother would give up the one thing that had connected him to home for all of those years…

Watching her daughter's sparkling eyes, which invoked Ty's even now, the surprise faded away.

Their Tater-Tot, as Ty called his niece, had that effect on people.

She always would.

2011

"The tests are not conclusive, but they do indicate an elevated risk."

'Risk.'

Even then, the word pulled at her. Should she smile and say 'thank you' to this man who watched them with indifference and an 'I'm so sorry' underneath? Should they fulfill his expectations and hug each other, maybe cry?

She knew that word – risk - had very concrete, very real numbers and facts behind it. Frankie had spoken of them, in his own struggling-for-detached doctor's voice. It was the default voice for when risks were just theoretical and tests were simply precautions.

Lower IQ. Slurred speech. Impaired breathing. Heart problems.

Shorter life spans

They were words that could never summarize.

Randi had known risks before. They were measured in drug dosages and unaffordable treatments and dark cars and darker rooms.

With Frankie, she had known rewards.

Were those rewards worth ever-defying risk?

When the man with the white coat and the poker face approached them again: a delicate list of options all led back to one question: Is this worth the risk?

Locking hands, they'd known their answer.

2016

Randi shook the hand of Angela's Learning Support Assistant. She bent down one final time and relayed a simple message to her daughter: "I love you."

A hesitant hand slid into the other woman's.

Randi and Frankie watched their daughter merge into the stream of children. After the last kids had entered the classroom, two figures remained silhouetted against the door. One was a dark-haired, adorable little boy Randi immediately identified as Alejandro Hayward.

The little girl beside him – her little girl – raised a no longer hesitant hand and waved.

The mist in her eyes now unashamedly a steady stream of water, Randi waved back as a larger but no less loving hand slipped around her waist, drawing her closer.

"Our family," Frankie mused. He reached to wipe away the tear that outed him as the true softie of the family.

Randi entwined their hands together. "Our family," she affirmed.

####

He thumbed the plastic razor before stepping up to the sink. It was the same brand, same no-frills but reliable he had used for years: the same brand his father had introduced to him.

"Here, try this."

Young eyes – so much their mother, too much their father – met his in the mirror. They enlarged only briefly, providing a window into the boilerplate of anxiety and anticipation currently swirling inside them.

After a beat, a hand reached for the durable razor and the shaving cream.

"Did you hear about the nurse who swallowed a razor blade? She gave herself a tonsilectomy, an appendectomy, a hysterectomy, and circumcised three of the doctors on her shift." Tad picked up the fancier, bells-and-whistles model that had been discarded. "Don't let this thing fool you. It might have the shine and the polish, but in the end, that one's the real deal."

He cleared his throat, feeling a familiar fidget. A silent SOS went up to the one person whose voice always miraculously burrowed into his head in situations like this. He might not have always taken Grandma Kate's advice to heart, but he always listened. In the mirror, a reflection now beamed back. A newly clean-shaven face and a pair of lips curved into an easy-cheesy, every-bit-the-Martin-boy grin.

"Thanks, Dad."

Tad matched the grin cheek-to-cheek.

"One more thing." Tad turned the boy toward him, dabbing on some aftershave and fixing an errant tie. "You too old to give your even older man a -"

Before he could finish the thought, Kenny answered the question with a veritable bear hug. Strong boy

Pulling back, and somehow managing to keep the sniffle out of his voice, Tad grabbed shoulders that refused to ever sag. "OK, mushy time over and out. You ready to roll?"

Those eyes – those eyes that would never change– supplied the answer before Tad's boy spoke a word.

"I'm ready, Dad."

####

Her first day of high school, she'd walked through the door in a stitched-together patchwork dress, mismatched socks, and a simple braid.

And even when she walked home, wishing the ground would swallow her up, she had wished more for her Mama and Daddy to be there…to tell her that everything would be alright.

Dixie watched the trees melt into blurs outside the window. Marching on, as was their forever custom. Fixating on the task at hand, she rummaged through the satchel – still patchwork –and removed the small package. She touched the fisted hand beside her; it spasmed, but soon relaxed, and the palm opened. Dixie placed the small box on top of it.

"Here's a present from your grandparents. I hear all three of them agreed on it. Minor miracle right there."

Despite the vastly contrasting lives Joe, Ruth, and Opal led, Dixie knew they would forever find common ground in their unconditional love and support of every person in this car.

The apprehensive eyes that gazed at the jewelry-sized box did not go unnoticed. Those eyes that had witnessed loved ones experience their own journeys of transition carried maturity beyond their youthful appearance. They also carried the slivers of doubt that came with that maturity.

Dixie didn't even realize she had been fortressing her own doubts until a shallow sigh freed them as the box opened.

The slight but unmistakable smile that shone at her provided the glow that the object in the box didn't quite possess. Not yet.

"It's -"

"A rainbow sapphire, uncut," her youngest finished, swiping at a stubborn eye.

Dixie nodded, feeling the gem's rough, but perfect edges. "They say it's made of some of the strongest stuff out there. No matter what, it endures. And if you hold it just right –" She tilted the hazy, brilliant kaleidoscope. "—you can see all its colors. Every one."

Even from the front seat, Tad silent spoke to Dixie through the brief gaze they shared in the driver's mirror. They had that way of finding each other.

They also knew that once they reached the school, they couldn't go any further. It was a path Kenny would have to walk himself. But he wouldn't be walking it alone. Dixie squeezed the hand that held a family's love inside it.

They pulled into a secluded parking space Jack had arranged for them, far out of reach from the cameras and the microphones.

As Tad rolled down the window to greet their waiting lawyer, the growing chants of the gathering crowd greeted them.

"I am required to give you a brief overview of the school's amended policies. First, in regards to the restroom and the locker rooms…."

With each rule and each affirmation, Dixie's grip resisted its natural urge and loosened.

A gentle tug pulled her from the statistics and the anecdotes and the crippling, crushing worry compounding it all. A pair of gentler eyes made a quiet plea.

She let go.

Jack opened the door for his youngest client. "Hey, kiddo. If you want to use a side entrance, the principal has made arrangements-"

"No." Kenny got out of the car, his gaze moving to the growing mob collected around the school's entrance. He stood straight. Proud. "I'll go in front."

####

It was the one thing - the only thing - left untouched after the bombing. Innocence, beauty: the very parts that should have been destroyed first, for good.

Sole survivors.

"It's name is Faith."

She didn't turn. She preferred the faint flicker of light playing against the photograph. "Actually, it is called Silphium laciniatum. In more general terms, it is a compass flower." A thread of silence followed. "It withstands a great deal."

"It endures. Compass is very appropriate too, I think."

Yasmin didn't so much hear the other woman move closer as she felt the diminished distance. It was always palpable. It had its effect. "Shouldn't you be at the party?" she asked. Her hands were doing an admirable job of gripping the table, of resisting their more natural inclinations.

"I wanted to thank you." The sincerity, the softness that mixed so very provocatively with other things. "Why didn't you stay?"

Why couldn't she stay away? That was the much better question. She'd spent three years alternately seeking and running from the answer.

"I thought it would be best. The gathering was a means for your children to help you celebrate the center's expansion." Those words were easy enough. So why were her hands gripping the table tighter? "Besides, your date—"

"Date?"

"Yes, the singer who is visiting you…"

"Zoe?"

The sudden clench in her jaw that matched her vise on the table made uttering another word difficult. She settled for a nod.

"Zoe is here because Tad and Dixie Martin contacted her. They asked her to talk with their child because she can relate."

"You do not owe me an explanation." Her jaw had relaxed, so why was forming the words still so hard? "We do not owe each other anything."

"Don't we?"

A stronger grip overpowered Yasmin's own, guiding her around, toward eyes that did not flicker but shone….eyes that were robbing her of speech, of rational thought.

"It's just….nice. Really nice, uncomplicated." The final word barely took tenuous form.

The lips that her gaze could not avert ticked upward ever-so-slightly, in that way that always pulled her forward. Like the compass.

"Uncomplicated, if you weren't in love with me."

The harsh chuckle, the scoff that wanted to wrench its way from a dry, defiant throat only managed one strangled sentence.

"What do you want?"

Bianca released her hand then, and Yasmin had to stifle every compulsion to reclaim the contact. "Five years ago today….that was the last time I said those words to her. It was the last time I said them to anybody. The last time I wanted, needed to say them to anyone. …until now."

Yasmin now averted those eyes, for preservation. She craned her neck until all that filled her vision was that flower: that amazing, frail, paradoxical pillar of strength.

"What I want, what I need is to say one thing. Maybe it won't matter, or maybe it will matter more than any words I've ever written." One breath repaired the breaks, the cracks in Bianca's voice. The next words were unwavering, achingly quiet but so strong, and they hit Yasmin with the softest of sledgehammers.

"I love you."

Yasmin turned from one compass to another. "Why?" she asked.

"You were there when we helped bring down the worst human being this town's ever seen."

"You were grateful."

"You were there when I adopted Jun, when I made my family nearly complete."

"You were happy."

"You were here in this room every time we—"

"You were…." Her lips performed their own quirk. "in need of warmth."

"You were there the day I felt the first sensation in my legs."

"You were hopeful."

"You were there the day I could feel this again."

A gasp escaped Yasmin as a more affirmative warmth surrounded her hand, guiding it – and guiding her – forward.

Resting her palm over a resilient, persistent heartbeat.

"You make me feel. I can't say I'm not scared. I can't say I know what will happen in the future. But I can't wait to find out." Eyes that were fixed past her began a smile that bloomed on full lips. "I have faith. Do you?"

Yasmin answered not with a word or a nod. She answered by capturing those lips in a kiss…sealing a promise that they would fulfill.

Together.

####

September 23, 2017

Spaces.

She'd covered them, stuffed them, and filled them with a chipped veneer of fading papers and dusted relics and broken pieces. She'd filled the emptiness with fervor. Discarding was just a fancy word for throwing away, after all.

Forgetting.

As. Liza finished packing the last box, her mother taped the center. The box bulged at the seams, but it held.

The hand beside hers madel patterns in the box's surface. That hand hesitated, then rose, resting on Liza's cheek. The wetness stinging her eyes this time was not brought forth by that flight from emptiness, but from something more -

"I love you, darling. I don't think I have ever told you that enough."

The lone tear fell on a tentative smile. Liza shifted and held the woman who had defined so much of her life, for better and for worse. "I love you, too."

A soft clearing of the throat eased them from the moment they both would stubbornly deny they needed.

Stuart's own smile - subdued but never dulled - greeted them. "Would you lovely ladies join me? I have something I"d like to show you."

Marian straightened her shoulders and patted her daughter''s cheek. "That, darling, is an invitation we cannot refuse."

When Marian's hand dropped again, Liza slipped a tissue into the waiting palm. Discreetly dabbed eyes spoke a thank you. Replacing the tissue with her hand, Liza allowed her mother to lead the way into her newly renovated living room.

Renovated and enhanced in a way that stole her breath. The sight before Liza created fresh tears. These tears, though—these tears she had no desire to wipe away.

Stuart stepped beside his wife and daughter-in-law, the light seeming to radiate from his face and directly into the portrait now adorning the wall.

""I started painting again a few months ago, with a bit of encouragement." The light softened and brightened as he stole a glance at his wife. "It's a housewarming gift, if you will accept it."

The ache in her throat subsided, allowing Liza an answer with the most undeniable conviction. "It's the best gift I have ever received. Thank you."

His response did not come in words, but in the gentle reassurance that enclosed her other hand.

"This is their legacy."

Liza studied the lines and contours that had official names, that represented time-tested techniques...that embodied two beautiful spirits.

Two spirits bonded not by blood but by the links, the connections…the love that would never die.

Scott's legacy.

Colby's legacy.

Never forgotten.

####

She took a seat in the last row of a nearly empty chamber. The vultures were long gone, banned and otherwise on the prowl for new prey. It was ironic but perhaps fitting that the hearing should fall on this day. Two trials would take place today: two defining moments. Cara couldn't say why this was her chosen moment. She had spent the entire walk in a kind of shuffle. One step forward and two steps back: a litany that had once characterized her life. And this town.

Even when her hand reached for that final door handle, it hesitated. She'd known about the commutation of sentence hearing for a long time. Sometimes she had dreaded it; other times she had anticipated it. Always - her fingers closed around that handle - always she'd known she would be here.

Three figures were at the room's center: the final actors in the final act of this unexpected play. Her eyes were drawn to the hunched figure immediately in front of her. She hadn't seen him in so long. His hair was more closely cropped and his build more slim. She didn't need to get a full glimpse of his unshaven face or his drawn eyes to recognize that neither food nor sleep had been in plentiful supply the preceding days. It was a condition with which she was well acquainted.

He rose as the committee addressed him, and she couldn't help but smile as the shoulders drew back and the legs steadied. When nothing else was ever certain, she had known that he would one day take his own steps forward.

"Do you believe, Mr. Chandler, that you are no longer responsible for these crimes?"

"I believe that there's a guy inside of me that would've jumped on what they did…taken the easy way out. Taken no responsibility. That guy would've said, 'Who, me? It's not 'my' fault. It's theirs.' Because that's always what life used to be to me: somebody else's fault. I didn't lay awake at night hearing the sounds of the people I'd hurt. They deserved it, after all."

The words inflicted their wounds: for her and, she suspected, for him. She knew of how he had refused the initial clemency aims after the degree of Espinoza's experiments had come to light. She knew why he refused - why even now he would only go after his freedom on the condition of an extended stay in a mental health facility.

He still carried the weight, just as they all did. Just as they all would.

"The people that tried to help me, even when they walked away – when I pushed them away….they had hope. Trust. Faith. I betrayed that trust over and over, and for six years, all I've had is time: time to regret, time to want to take another easy out and make a noose of my bed sheet. And, even though I don't even come close to deserving it….time to hope. Am I responsible? Yes. I can never erase that. But I'm going to spend the rest of my life – whether it's in here or out there – becoming that guy they believed in. I owe them that much."

Each word hammered, coaxed her to get up, to leave, to retrace those steps –

The committee, meanwhile, was busy quantifying those words, shuffling stacks of papers.

"Several individuals have provided impact statements. Tad Martin, Dixie Martin…" Each paper settled softly on the table. "Jesse Hubbard, Liza Colby, Natalia Monroe, Bianca Montgomery, Krystal Carey, Adam Chandler…." And sometimes thudded.

JR's shoulders did not sag, although she could see the struggle. Nor did he look away. "I understand.," he said. And she knew that he meant it, just as he meant his final, simple statement. "I will abide by their wishes."

The lead judge removed his glasses and focused his attention directly on JR. "Those wishes were quite thought-provoking and at times quite complex, Mr. Chandler. But I believe that they may ultimately be summarized in one word: forgiveness."

No sudden movements or sharp intakes of breath or shaky sighs. No more words. Just stillness. Quiet.

Perhaps even peace, whatever may come.

"One witness has requested her testimony be recorded today."

"Ms. Castillo…." As the man in the rimmed glasses nodded in her direction, Cara moved. Her eyes locked with JR's as he turned, visibly stunned. A thousand images, thoughts, feelings passed like lightning in those few seconds. A thousand plus one.

Cara stepped forward.

####

He read over the list of indictments: an endless repetition of words that could never truly cover the devastation, then or now. Kidnapping, attempted murder…

His eyes stopped on the final name in the list: Ryan Lavery.

Murder.

Jesse shoved the papers back into the file and roughly wiped his hands on the tailored suit that never quite felt like it fit. The domestic charges might be swept away here, ruled as inadmissible, but he would do his damnedest to make sure that every voice from home was heard. The tangle of trials over the past four years had exhausted the town that Espinoza had terrorized. When Vanessa Bennett, Espinoza's only living co-conspirator, had offered up testimony in exchange for leniency, it had helped close the case. Jesse had no doubt, though, that the untold power of a town finally ready to stand united had truly sealed the bastard's fate. No matter the outcome of this trial, they had ensured that Espinoza would spend the rest of his life in a dark cell. Today was about giving names and faces to the rest of his victims….no, not victims. Survivors. Today was about finding justice for everyone whose bloodstains Espinoza's diamonds carried.

Taking a deep breath, Jesse lifted his face up. Even when the carved ceiling now before him had been replaced by a spilt-ink, starless sky, even when phantom rocks and brushes had cut into him, bled him little by little, he could always gaze up and see a tomorrow.

A future.

The door opened and Jake Martin stepped out. Although a film of sweat and ruffled hair indicated that the testimony he gave was neither short nor easy, Jake's wordless exhale indicated release.

We're finally free.

When the guard motioned, Jesse followed him into the international tribunal.

####

She held an arm out for the expectant doctor. Her physician, with full concentration, secured the monitor just above her elbow. After she shifted slightly, Dr. Martin gave her a properly chastising expression. Angie immediately stilled.

Following a few moments, she received her diagnosis. "You need to take your vitamins. And this is for being a good patient."

Angie accepted the lollipop with a grin. "Thank you, Doctor."

The elder Doctor Martin scooped up his young protégé and gave her a decidedly unprofessional, but completely adorable, kiss on the cheek. The little girl wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the gesture.

Angie had been a consistent presence during every step of Jake, Amanda., and Adia's long road to becoming a family. She had advised Jake as he worried about the lingering scars from the physical and mental abuse the young girl had endured. She had listened while Amanda confided her own fears and frustrations. She knew how much these small moments really meant, and just how much that long and winding road they had travelled had ultimately rewarded them in the end.

When her phone began vibrating, Angie excused herself from the family and found an unoccupied corner of the court's waiting area.

She pressed the button, and an enthusiastic, vibrant voice filled her heart.

"Gramp, .Grammy. Come back home soon. We love you."

Frankie and Randi had joined their daughter in finishing the greeting. Broth and Natalia had also squeezed into one side of the screen while Cassandra and Reggie completed the picture-perfect video.

A presence settled into the seat beside her. Without turning, Angie rested her head against Jesse's shoulder.

The world melted away until only one image remained.

Family.

####

September 23, 2018

2013

Tad would encourage him to come back for the gala honoring AMC United's biggest contributors. Jesse and Angie, his closest PV friends, would invite him to stay at their home. He would refuse, of course, but Angie would work her magic and have him feeling guilty for turning down the invitation in no time. Then they would have a quiet dinner the first night and ease him into the topic of the national news crews' latest fascination: Project Orpheus. With the non-stop coverage of the recent happenings, it was only a matter of time before 'every' detail was made public.

This was her only reason for revealing herself. It had nothing to do with the flutter she still got in her stomach – in her heart - when someone even dared hint at his name. She just had to spare him the shock….spare him any more pain. She would make him understand why they couldn't go back. She would ignore Jesse, Angie, Tad, Mama's insistence that he still loved her. She wouldn't remember Jesse's recollection of his last words to her at her gravesite: 'A part of me can't help wishing we'd have our own miracle…I'll see you again someday.'

They were wrong; they had to be.

She knew what she needed to do. They would reveal her to him calmly: as calmly as could be achieved in these circumstances, anyway. She would explain, then she would leave. He would understand.

The best laid plans…

Jenny didn't know what drew here there. Maybe it was to once and for all bury the past, in every sense of the word. Maybe it was to pay her respects to everyone who had lost their lives in this whole nightmare, none of whom she had ever met. Or maybe it was the novelty of seeing her own grave - touching the cold carvings and validating her own existence.

It was the latter she did first. She sat in that position for untold minutes, hesitant to break the connection between who she had been and who she now was. But it had to be done. That girl – that naïve, optimistic girl - no longer had a place in her life.

Had they truly won? Had they killed her as surely as if her bones were resting underneath this hard ground? Her hand wavered. Compelled and repelled. Caught, even as dried leaves crackled underneath soft footfalls.

"Jenny?"

It was just her name. Just her name full of every color, dimension, every sorrow and hope. Just her coaxed to life by the only voice that could: the voice she had not heard in decades.

The voice she would never forget.

2018

Greg joined her on the couch, and Jenny eased into his embrace. They watched the remainder of their 5th new-anniversary gift. When Greg came on screen again, that voice – confident, wistful, hopeful – carried another message:

'Your hometown, it's with you for life.'

####

"So, can I now introduce myself as the brother of the Nobel Prize winner in Medicine & Philosophy?"

"Actually, it's Physiology. I'm a 'laureate,' and the answer is no. Besides, I don't think this little escapade you and Greenlee have gotten yourselves mixed up in would lend itself to that kind of declaration."

"Got me there, but I prefer the word 'adventure' to 'escapade.' At least say you mentioned me in this whole lecture deal. You know my presence would spice the thing up."

"Oh, I'm sure it would, but 'spicing things up' wouldn't have been in my best interest. I'm lucky they let me get away with giving the lecture so far past the ceremony. "

"Hey, breaking the rules is in our blood, bro. Seriously, though, I'm proud of ya. Who would have thunk it five years ago? You almost shuttered the whole thing."

"At the risk of shedding our masculine image even further, I just want you to know that none of this – NONE of it – would have been possible without you."

"Number one guinea pig at your service."

"Number one brother…eh, too much?"

"Mmmm, yeah. But David, I –"

"I know, Leo. Me, too."

#

"How'd it go?"

"A couple of hours of mind-numbing geek-speak. These things have a way of making even a major, revolutionary medical breakthrough sound boring. "

"I'm sure you kept things interesting. You always do."

"Angling for a story, huh?"

"I wouldn't complain. That banquet was a veritable hotbed of gossip."

"You'd be surprised. The chemicals aren't the only thing cooking in most laboratories."

"Wow, David, that was—"

"Bad?"

"Don't tell me they're squeezing that special brand of snark out of you. I've gotta confess that I would miss it."

"Well, I am a fine, upstanding citizen now. Gotta look the part sometime."

"No more world domination?"

"Taking a hiatus. If you should ever need a partner-in-crime, though, I'd make an exception."

"I'll keep that in mind. Speaking of partners-in-crime, Mom says 'hi, and congratulations.'"

"That's nice. Thank her for me."

"I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"You've never described anything or anyone as 'nice' in the whole time I've known you. I think I'll just let you thank her yourself and leave it at that."

"Look, Bianca, I don't know what you think -"

"If you're happy, David, that's what counts, right? And if my mom should happen to be happy around the same time, well, even better. That's all I'm saying, OK?"

"…OK. And thank you for, well, for…being there."

"Any time."

"Oh and before I forget, I've got my own 'hello' to deliver. I had an unexpected but welcome guest at the lecture. Maggie says 'hi.'….Bianca?"

#

"I just wanted to thank you – on behalf of Cortlandt and Chandler – for your donation."

"Ms. Cortlandt-Montgomery, if you wanted to talk to me, you didn't need a courtesy call to do it."

"Doctor, using your earnings from your achievement to help fund AMC United was a thoughtful action. I am simply –"

"Assessing my motives?"

"I did question them."

"I understand."

"Do you want to reassert your stake in the company?"

"And work with such wonderfully…energetic colleagues again? How you tempt me, but I think I will have to pass. As for my motives, haven't you heard? I save lives."

"Although I don't think you need any help in this regard, you should feel proud, Doctor. Your contributions to stem cell therapy advancements are a wonderful thing, and the research is fascinating."

"I didn't know you were such a student of the subject."

"I…I have read up on it."

"Well, I'm glad to know that my work and perhaps I myself have a new fan. And Nina?"

"Yes."

"Thanks."

#

"Dr. Hayward….congrats!"

"Kenny, my man! My favorite call of the day. How did the meeting with the endocrinologist go?"

"It went. I'll tell you about it later."

"I'm holding you to it."

""By the way, Mom and Dad wanted to congratulate you….Dr. Hayward, are you still there?"

"I'm here….I'm here."

#

David ended the last of his surprisingly robust list of calls. Sliding the phone into his pocket, he let his hands find a home there as well. He rocked back on his heels in full appreciation of his approaching guest.

"I would say you look beautiful, but that is a given. You are beautiful."

"Always the charmer."

"I try."

"And succeed, too often. Should I be worried?"

He considered a well-placed quip, but opted for the truth instead. It was a concept he was still feeling out. "Possibly. But right now, no." The smirk eased at the corners. "Thank you for coming."

She shrugged, clutching her purse and scanning the crowd as the last guest departed. "I'd like to think I played a small part."

"More than that."

'You're my best friend.'

The thought - quite unbidden - would have them both laugh quite raucously not too long ago. That he even had friends among which he could appoint a 'best' was a minor miracle in itself. That this woman - with whom, try as he might otherwise, he still felt the vibration of a once nearly-invisible thread – had that title? Even more miraculous.

Striving for lightness, he added: "I hope I didn't bore you too much."

"Impossible."

"So no regrets?"

Cara looked past him, the smile gaining force. "No regrets."

The sting pricked his eye a second too late. Before he could fully turn away, she had moved a finger to capture the tear. "Careful, wouldn't want people to think Dr. Jekyll's completely taken over."

A whirlwind of energy hit them both, and the moment David gazed down, the tear fell. Funny thing was, he didn't much give a damn about reputations in this moment.

"Daddy, why are you crying?"

The newly anointed 'laureate' scooped his son up and placed the gentlest of kisses against jet-black hair.

His response was an echo of the least formal, but most truthful, words in his lecture: "Because I finally got it right."

####

Clips from 'I am Erica Kane': Season 2, Episode 4

The scene is Erica's celebration to mark her fifth year of being cancer-free. The event is doubling as a fundraiser for the American Cancer Society. Among those in attendance are Erica's daughters Kendall Hart Slater and Bianca Montgomery, their dates Zach Slater and Yasmin Al-Sharani, Erica 's close friend Opal and her husband Caleb Cortlandt (a former flame of Ms. Kane's), and ex-husband #10 (give or take) Jackson Montgomery and his wife, Nina.

Clip 1:

The diva herself is in deep conversation with Jackson Montgomery. The cameras catch this exchange:

Jack: Just be careful, OK?

Erica: I used to live my life by the mantra 'caution to the wind.' I can't do that anymore. I won't do that anymore. If I were still that person, things…would be different.

Jack: David Hayward would never be accused of being anyone's safe choice.

Erica: He's anything but. I can tell you what he is, though. He is someone who I can have fun with, someone who I can be me with: no questions. No expectations. No –

Jack: No what, Erica?

Erica: This is none of your business.

A patented Erica Kane hair-flip follows the exchange as the diva turns to leave. Jack touches her arm. Although the touch is slight, it has the desired effect. Our star has stopped in her tracks.

Jack: I wish to God that was true.

The words trail away even as the duo draws closer. A screaming party streamer interrupts the moment, however, and Erica and Jack quickly separate…each moving their separate way.

#

The camera pans to Jack's significant other, corporate executive Nina Cortlandt-Montgomery, who is immersed in her own conversation via phone.

"You're welcome, Dav - Doctor. Goodbye."

The executive studies the phone, her face turned away from the camera's appraising eye. She, too, seems jolted from a moment when the party favor informally announces an end to the mingling portion of the event. The phone disappears back into her purse and Nina takes leave from her private corner. The unreadable expression on her face shapes itself into a smile as she joins the other party-goers.

#

Erica approaches the center of the room. Although there is no podium, Pine Valley's most famous – and most faithful – citizen has no problem drawing the attention of friends, ex-lovers, family, and enemies alike: her PV cohorts.

"I am Erica Kane, and I am a survivor…"

With her daughters and grandchildren by her side, Erica Kane once again captivates a room.

#

And they all lived a happily-ever-after, drama-free existence…

This bunch?

To Be Continued

####

September 23, 2019

The booth was his secret. It was a tiny nook just off the kitchen, and his knees were always just shy of knocking against the table. Out of view, yet in full view. It fit his purposes, though. If ever discovered, he might say those purposes were to get the inside track on business rivals enjoying a casual lunch or gaining necessary intelligence on enemies exchanged during hushed conversations. It wasn't the maddeningly addictive, grease-soaked sandwiches, and it surely wasn't the even more maddening sense of community…of home….that had kept him faithfully coming back to his hidden booth Oh, no, it was assuredly not that, slthough he did put Pine Valley on the map. He'd said so once himself.

That tug at his lips grew more pronounced when two familiar voices drifted over from the nearby counter.

"I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new?"

"No, I'm one of the prodigal children, in a manner of speaking. I just didn't think I'd ever come back here. So much has changed, yet -"

"So much is the same. I hear ya. The thing I've found about this town, though, is that it never really lets you go. I used to think that was a bad thing, the worst thing. But now…"

"Change of philosophy?"

"Let's just say older and wiser."

"Well, time's been kind to you in many ways."

"I think I'm gonna leave that one alone, for now. If you don't mind my asking, though, what brings you back?"

"Let's just say I'm here to honor the past, and maybe look to the future, if I'm lucky."

"So you'll be sticking around a while?"

"Yeah…yeah, I think so. Like you say, there is something about this place. "

Another familiar voice – this one instigating a whole new set of memories – interrupted the conversation between Krystal and the self-proclaimed 'prodigal child.'

"The family will be glad you could make it, Ross."

Adam peered over the booth just in time to see one ex-wife take possession of his nephew's arm, while shooting another ex-wife an all-too-forced, icy smile.

"Krystal, if you will excuse us, my client and I have a meeting."

Tapping the menu in front of him, Adam's grin widened. Some things never changed indeed, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

####

"I don't think I can do this."

Her shoulders relaxed when his hands rested on them. No massage needed. ""Come on, the lady who broke the biggest news story in the past five years, the one who's about to break another – yes, I've heard. The woman who could always put me in my place: no small feat, mind you… That woman can do anything." His arms moved down to a waist that shivered. The gasp gave way to a sigh.

"Do you remember what you said our first night together?" The tenseness had left her words as well as her body.

He chuckled lightly into her shoulder. Another shiver.

"How could I forget?"

The words were still etched in his memory, and every bit as true today as they were then.

"It was inevitable."

She poured a small amount of amber in the flute that still bore its badge. She placed it, untouched, on the papers she had been poring over all night.

"I don't..."

Her palm ghosted her chest, closing around the pendant that protected the strongest heart he would ever know. When her eyes turned in his direction, they radiated that inextinguishable strength. "I can," she whispered. "I will."

Gathering only her keys and her coat, Brooke headed out the door.

Adam read the words that still lay on the table with an appreciative grin before following her.

Adam Chandler: Complicated.

####

"I'm not drinking again. That can't be what 'this' is." His gaze remained fixed on the stone.

Adam should have been startled, but somehow, it made sense. "It isn't, I can assure you," he said.

"I'll leave. I know I don't belong here."

When Adam gripped JR's arm, they both stopped. His son's eyes moved from the hand upward. Directly into his father's own eyes. The muscles underneath Adam's touch tensed, then loosened. Those muscles felt the contact Their owner felt everything.

"Why are you here?" Adam asked, testing the words. They were…real.

JR looked back to his sister's grave. "I needed to be. I never…I never got the chance –" The tremor could not completely temper the raw ache in his voice. "Before I left, I came here. Couldn't make it past the gate, though. They thought they were releasing me, but –" He swiped roughly at his cheeks. "It was still me. Those peoples' plans, their experiments, their hatred. My hatred made it possible. How could I ever make up for that? How could a thousand sorrys ever be enough for them?" He swept a hand around the graveyard, and beyond this space to the rest of Pine Valley. "For her?" A shaking finger steadied on Colby's carved name. The finger dropped. "Or for you" JR lowered his head, and Adam knew that his son was biting already-cracked lips until they bled: his small lifelong means of self-punishment. "I thought the best thing I could do for my son - for everybody in this town - was to let them forget that I ever existed."

"But you were wrong." The question became an affirmation.

The quiet nod grew in intensity as JR's shoulders began to tremble. Adam didn't know the moment when he'd stopped thinking, the moment when he knelt and took JR in his arms. It was only when he did, however, that he could hear the soft whispers that escaped those cracked lips over and over. "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry."

Please forgive me.

Adam did something he had not done since he had cradled this tinier body in his arms. He brushed damp hair and burrowed his face into soft skin.

A different softness surrounded them, providing tender life to Adam's own whisper.

"I forgive you."

The softness lingered long after the two had separated.

"I'm going to stay," JR said, his fingers brushing over the small stone that still radiated. "I'm going to make it matter."

"I know." Adam spoke one more unyielding truth. "You are my son."

####

"Who are you talking to?"

For one moment, JR looks directly into Adam's eyes. He nods, then turns back to his son. "Myself. Bad habit."

AJ has bunched his hands in that tattered jacket that Adam once hated, but now understands. It was the only possession the boy's maternal great-grandfather had to his name when he died. It is the relic of the humbler legacy that lays claim to AJ on both sides of his family tree.

Adam's grandson's eyes are unwavering. Those are pure Chandler.

"You don't seem surprised to –"

"To see you here?"

The perfectly contained edge might have averted JR's gaze at one time. Not now.

"I expected it," AJ continues.

"You…" JR straightens his sagging shoulders, bites his lip again in that way that his son has unconsciously acquired. "You look well." The safest step in the minefield.

"I was visiting my family. Most of them are here now." And the youngest of the Chandler men has also inherited that unique ability for casual grenade-tossing. "Will you be going back after?…" He let the thought trail off.

JR takes a step forward. Unhesitant, and straight into the field. "I'm not leaving, AJ. Not this time." The words were equally unhesitant. And, for the first time in so long, Adam believes every one.

"I –" AJ does not back away. Another Chandler classic: the standoff. "I don't know how to feel …about you."

JR turns only slightly, staying rooted. Just enough, just enough to complete their circle. "You feel what you need to feel. I'll be here."

AJ blinks, breaks the solemn silence with the slightest head tilt.

Adam mirrors the gesture that he has passed to son who has passed to grandson, then smiles.

This is the end.

This is the beginning.

####

Hayley went straight for the hug, but Skye - she was not that easily persuaded. Blood or not, she was still a Chandler.

She would only greet the brother she was meeting for the first time with a strained half-smile. But then Miguel did something that reflected his own Chandler genes. With quite a bit of decorum, he extended his hand for a proper and polite handshake. The resulting buzz reverberated off the window, quickly accompanied by light laughter.

Skye kept up a good front, but the half gained another quarter. Adam knew it was just a matter of times, as all things were.

He touched the window's glass just once, holding his family close, and stepped back into the shadows. The imprint remained even as the laughter faded.

####

It was true that time and circumstance had eased his temperament (or his 'crustiness,' as others were fond of saying) and perhaps elevated his status above that of town pariah. Yet he had to admit his surprise.

He might have been secretly expecting Scrooge pre-Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come, but the collected assortment of former enemies, ex-wives, and prodigal family told a bit of a different story. Adam took his seat, quite aware of but unwilling to forsake the grin that had gotten him into more than a few harried situations: both amenable and not-quite-so-amenable.

Who would have guessed that the funeral of one Adam Chandler would be the most attended event of the decade?

He scanned over the guests, committing to each face one perfectly preserved memory.

The first speaker was called and Adam winced as David Hayward walked through him. Not because of any pain. He was well past the point for physical distress. He winced because he knew that the 'good' doctor would deliver one of the more…interesting eulogies.

"He was an unapologetic bastard most of his life, then he became a semi-respectable member of society. One way or another, he was my aspiration."

A veritable parade of Pine Valley's finest followed suit.

"My co-parent, my enemy, my first…hmm…truly my introduction to Pine Valley."

"You know the old tried-and-true image: angel on one shoulder pointy-tailed guy on the other? He square-danced with the devil, but Mr. Wings - you never could tell when he was gonna make an unexpected appearance. Yin and yang, I guess. That's him to a tee. .One thing you can say is that he always kept it lively. Never thought I'd say it, but I'm gonna miss him."

"He always said I deserved better: a better job, a better husband, and even though he never said it outright…a better father. And what I always said, what I always felt, remains the same today: I'm happy, complete…and I owe that to the blessings in my life. One of those blessings will always be you, Dad."

"We, uh…we never had that relationship you see on the old shows. We were never that postcard of the father and son happily tossing a ball back and forth. What we did have was enough screw-ups between us to keep the family counselors busy for years. What we did have were moments when we wished more than anything we had different blood flowing through our veins. And what we had, more than anything, was this crazy, twisted, loyal devotion and connection that try as we might – and by God did we ever try – we could never break. We had it…deepest and darkest depths sometimes….but we had that love. No, we have it."

"Since we were little boys, he called me the good one. The better half. The part he never understood was how much he taught me: about confidence, about courage, about dedication and drive, and about love. My first friend, my fiercest champion, my brother…we made each other whole."

"Infuriating, mischievous, ruthless, passionate, devoted, and yes, complicated. Adam Chandler: the love of my life."

When the person standing behind him touched his shoulder, he smirked. "My own welcoming committee? I'm touched."

"More like a goodbye committee, technically." That voice that had driven him to extremes in a different time and place now seemed…tolerable.

Adam turned to Ryan and the figures gathered around him, each wearing a wistful smile as they watched different faces in the lingering crowd.

At the sight of one of those figures, Adam'st heart - the one that many doubted existed - jolted one final time.

When he forcefully pulled himself from her embrace moments later, he kept an arm wrapped around his daughter. His guide.

Taking her hand, Adam asked,"They'll be okay?"

Colby watched over the group: Pine Valley's past, present, and future. " They'll be okay, in their own PV way, of course." The grin, with that hint of a certain silver fox's glint, was eternal. "They've got to honor the legacy, after all."

####

September 23, 2020

"Well, I'm not doing it."

"Should we ever expect Ms. High and Mighty to lower herself? I've got an idea. You can just be the ass – the donkey, of course."

"You little -"

"Hey, there ain't nothing little about me, sweetie."

"Not what I've heard. Besides, is it my fault you picked now to go through your poser-rapboy stage? What's the matter? Regular play-acting not enough for your Pine Valley to Llanview-sized ego?"

"That's rich coming from you. You know I can multi-task. Hell, I could do this whole damn thing single-handed. How else do you think I've taken these suckers for their lunch money."

"Oh, you mean the just-so-happens-to-be-against-school-policy gambling scheme you've cooked up? I should've known such an obvious play for attention could only be the handiwork of you."

"Sorry I can't bat my eyelashes at lunkheads like Enzo to get things done."

"I've never had any complaints about my manner of getting things done."

"Shouldn't he have passed his expiration date already?"

"He's perfectly fine."

"Until you get bored out of your skull because he's not a challenge."

"Who is?"

AJ really shouldn't have drawn closer at the question that was already a whisper teasing his lips. He really shouldn't have had the almost, almost overpowering urge to answer that question without saying a single word. He really shouldn't be wanting a lot of things.

So, for once, he was gonna go against family tradition and do the non-impulsive, totally rational thing. He took a step back.

"Let's just get this thing done. We're stuck with each other now, but once we're done, you'll never have to see my poser face or listen to my massive ego again."

"Sounds great."

And he wouldn't notice the totally un-great, totally un-Miranda way she said those words.

####

She was so still that when he turned her around, he though her eyes might be closed.

He wished they were.

She wouldn't give anything up; he knew she wouldn't, so he opted for grabbing the box of tissues on the desk. How many, he didn't know. Didn't exactly have precedents for this one. Foregoing the desks, he led her to a carved-out nook in the wall furthest from the door. It was cramped, uncomfortable…

In a word, perfect.

She didn't offer any resistance while he worked, blotting and wiping until the steady stream had stopped. It left behind two straight lines meeting at an intersection: the red "L" contrasted her pale skin, branded it in a way the long, dark sleeves she wore would only let her see.

AJ rested his head against the wall.

"I'm not-"

Suicidal.

"I know."

"I just want to —"

Feel.

"I know."

Emma moved to push the sleeve down. His hand reached out, touched the fresh wound. She dropped her own hand, her fist tightening around the sharp object still in her palm. Still slicing.

"And I know what you're thinking. Crazy chick just honoring the family history, right?"

The twitch of his lips was the closest AJ had gotten to a smile lately. "Then I'm in good company. People are still waiting for me to shoot this place up, become the next five-minute mugshot on the national news."

"That's not…"

The smile grew in full when she couldn't quite bring herself to spit out the half-hearted reassurance that the other kids – hell, even the teachers – still gave him the wary side-eye when they thought he wasn't looking.

"Look at us. Two delinquents having our own after-school special moment. Good thing that Sterling's subbing for The Warden. Got the place all to ourselves." He waved at the otherwise-empty room. "What are you in for? Let me guess, you and Kenny had a fight and you took it out on the poor, way-past-its-prime soda-spitter. "

"That's over." Emma pulled her arm away, scooted about five feet in the other direction.

AJ cupped a palm over his ear."Wanna run that one by me again? It's kinda hard to hear way over here."

"Sometimes it's better to just 'cut' your losses. Let go." Her finger softly, absently touched her wound.

"Come on, you guys aren't ever gonna be 'over' over. After what you did for him –"

"You mean like when you used your 'connections' to neuter that dumbass jock that was spreading rumors about a certain someone?"

"Hey, just honoring my family legacy: the 'lesser degree of illegal' part of it, anyway."

"Or just honoring the hots you so obviously have for said someone."

"Off-limits."

"Oh, you can pry into my life,.but God forbid I mention M -"

"Final warning."

"Why are you here? Get in another fight about….she who shall not be named?"

"Please. She's arrogant, entitled, stubborn, and -"

"And you love it. You love -"

"Not hearing this."

"Come on, you have the whole cosmic 'soul-twin' thing going. Born on the same day…"

"Right before I got shipped off to another town and she got stolen by my mom." God, his family really did set the standard for f.'d up-amplified. "Right before my dad almost killed her mom…twice. I think if the universe is saying anything, it's more like 'stay the hell away.'"

"So it's a little Romeo and Juliet."

At his pointed look, she finally shifted gears – from explosive to nuclear, of course. And in her own uniquely blunt way.

"So you know my mom and your dad are doing it again, right?"

Oh yeah, he knew, even though they'd tried hiding it. That worked out about as well as last time. Family secrets had a way of playing peek-a-boo in this town.

"They've got this weird connection. Always have. Maybe they'll, I don't know, cancel each other out."

Emma gave him her first smirk of the day. "You mean balance the crazy out? That might work, if my mom didn't have a thing for Uncle Jon."

And if my Dad didn't have a thing for the woman whose brother he killed.

Yep, fairy tales and true-blue love at its finest.

"Why do they do that? Hooking up, running away, when they obviously wanna be with other people?"

"Sometimes I think there's something in the water in this place." AJ shrugged. "Or maybe it's everybody's destiny: crazy-confused, screwed up to the max, but hey, never boring."

"Yeah, we can at least say that. And sometimes there's even a pot of gold at the end of that Aisle of Doom." Her grin settled into something else. "But we wouldn't ever do the things they do, right?"

We're not them. The affirmation shone in each of their eyes.

When he unfolded his hand, palm-up, she studied the lines: wealth, career, love…stupid things he'd long forgotten, or at least made a hell of an effort to forget. Emma dropped the razor onto his lifeline.

That line he remembered. That he would never -

Her thumb pressed into the steady pulse that quickened as she fully bridged the gap.

The kiss was soft, urgent.

She needed to feel something. He needed to not feel anything.

Her body pressed closer.

Safe abandon.

####

"I can handle it."

That look coming from Miranda told another story.

"Seriously, Meems. They're just a couple of dicks. I'll take care of them."

The rapidly swelling lip wasn't exactly selling Spike's case.

"OK, Spike, OK." Miranda threw her hands up in the air, turned, and shot Kenny her best one-eyebrow raise. Poor Spike really should've known better. "We'll do it your way. Set up a time at the gym and get Uncle Zach to give you some boxing lessons because -" She pinched her cousin's cheek just below the eye. "You're gonna need it. Or maybe you should just ask Aunt Kendall. I hear she can throw a mean -"

"You wouldn't."

Of course not." Miranda smiled sweetly. "Just as long as you talk to Kenny here. Now."

The freshman eyed him warily, so Kenny tried to disarm with his best shrug. "It is in the job description. " The truth was, though, since he had joined up with the student mentors, the biggest problem anyone had come to him with was how to properly prank Mr. Foley. "No sermons about the evils of fighting, OK? Just listening., and we'll take it from there."

With a sigh, Spike pushed from the locker and moved toward the empty lunchroom. Miranda winked, satisfied that her special brand of persuasive powers was still intact. She couldn't quite hide the softening that hit her eyes the instant she began to follow her cousin, though.

They took seats across from the slouched boy, who was studying his hands. "I don't know what you want me to say. We were in the pool. They took off with my headset and processor. It was just a stupid way to get a few laughs."

"A few laughs that left you on the wrong end of a fist or two." Miranda's tone did not match the sarcasm of her words.

Spike sat forward, rubbing his cheek. The fact that his fingers now avoided the device above his ear did not escape Kenny's notice.

"I just get….tired sometimes. JV football started last week. I was at that first game, and you know what I thought? I could kick any of those guys' asses."

Kenny and Miranda shared a smirk. Whoever said that confident cockiness was as a Kane Woman-exclusive trait?

""I can't, though. I never will, because of—" He yanked at his ear. "They think I'm weak, but I'm not." His palm stopped short of slamming into his forehead. It settled instead. "I'm not."

"You want to feel in control of yourself, and sometimes you don't."

Spike didn't answer, but his hands had stopped fidgeting.

Kenny's own hands had taken up the mantle. "Today, I told somebody that I…somebody that I care about that I was ready to do something important to me. " The conversation with his parents had actually been easier. But he couldn't even tell them just how much he counted down the days until he was 18 - until he could finally have the option he'd researched over, agonized over, thought about.

Dreamed about since he could remember dreaming.

He could only say those words to Emma.

"It's funny because I'd always thought of this thing - this decision - as finally taking back control of my life. But she, this person, I think she sees it as losing control."

It'll change things.

What if it changes us?

"She's scared," Spike whispered.

Kenny nodded to Spike, to himself. "Fear, even anger, they're not weaknesses. They just go with the territory of being human. Anybody who tries to say they don't feel either one is either high or FOS."

Six eyebrows simultaneously lifted.

"He's right, you know." At Miranda's observation, some of those raised eyebrows turned to her. She waved it off. "Don't act so shocked. I'm capable of admitting somebody else might have a good thought on occasion. Mine are usually better, but what can you do?" The easy tone shifted as she turned to Spike. "I've been scared and mad more times than I can count. Still am sometimes. You know what I've maybe finally figured out, though? It's not me being someobody I think I'm destined to be. It's not me living up to some legacy, some expectation, that matters more to me than it ever did to anybody around me. It's not things like this." She ran a finger over the small bump near her cousin's temple. "It's not that we have those feelings. .it's what we do with them. .Run away, back down. Or face 'em. Look at 'em and say -"

"You are a filthy beast."

The two busted into laughter then and even though Kenny was confused as hell at the joke, he hadn't heard a better sound all day. He joined in.

After a couple of minutes that could have easily lasted a couple of hours, they wrangled a promise from Spike to try working things out with more talk and less bruised knuckles.

"Oh, and Kenny," As Spike was leaving, he glanced over his shoulder. "My sister should be busted out of time-out any time now. Just thought you'd like to know."

Kenny turned back to Miranda, who wore the same feces-eating grin that her cousin had picked up. "That kid's picked up the best and worst traits of both sides of the family."

Miranda batted her eyelashes. "And you just can't help yourself from loving him for it. And me, of course. So, where are you headed?"

Kenny slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Well, I haven't had the honor of visiting detention in a while."

Miranda rose, trying uncharacteristically hard to appear bored and uninterested "Mind if I go with?"

Oh-so-very-interested.

Kenny bumped her shoulder. "Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain other detainee, would it?"

Miranda gave the patented complementary eye roll and hair flip. "Maybe it's time we had a more civilized discussion. You know, without the usual."

"Let's do it."

He imagined the words that might come easily, not so easily when he saw her again.

He draped an arm around his friend, dreaming of Emma.

Dreaming of his girl.

####

"I told you it was here, so whaddya say now?"

He glanced around the circle of faces, feeling pretty justified in his righteousness.

Didn't mean others appreciated his impressive detective skills. Jenny's eye roll – which she'd never admit she'd picked p from her Mom.—couldn't escape notice. Neither could the arm-fold Ian was currently directing his way. Not a word needed there.

Only his sister truly appreciated his genius. "You did say it would probably be at the cornerstone."

"Thanks, Ad. Good to know somebody recognizes my skills. " The tightness around Trevor's mouth immediately went away when he smiled at Adia. Cheesy as it sounded, she was his' cornerstone. Well, her and somebody else….when that somebody else would actually admit that she'd be pretty lost without him.

"So you've proven that you're a master eavesdropper. Applauses all around," Jenny mused, clearly unimpressed.

Logan shot a worried glance back at his cousin and her pint-sized shadow Alejandro. ""What if they bust us? You know Angie can't keep a secret."

Trevor had it covered, though. Most of the time, anyway. "Hey, I know this thing's not supposed to be opened till like 2050. We'll put it back. I'm just borrowing it."

He was fully prepared for Jenny's next wise-ass remark. If she wanted to play that game, though, he could totally let Ian in on the fact that she practically ogled him every time his back was turned. In fact, number one preoccupation was currently in effect.

But it wasn't Jenny who spoke up, or his sister, and sure as heck not broody Ian Slater. It was the one person who always managed to cut through all the….

"Why?" Gaby asked.

He tapped the stainless steel. "Will an 'I'm just curious about what's in here' do?"

She took the time capsule from him. "Curiosity did kill the cat."

Trevor took the other end, imagining the contents. His jaw set. "It's just important. Can you trust me?"

Will you help me?

When he looked up at her, he knew the answer before she said a word.

"Let's do this."

Always.

####

Her skin was warmer that the sunlight filling the shadows. He took in that warmth as his lips lingered on her hand. Smiling, he replaced those lips with his own hand. Together, they captured their own slice of heaven.

"Beautiful," he said. This simple truth wasn't in admiration of the gold and red treasures the trees had reluctantly revealed. It wasn't an observance of how the sun was fashioning a lake of gold, reflecting shimmering beams on the pond's surface. The word came without hesitation as he reverently studied each contour of the face that had been his home for decades.

When Ruth didn't respond, Joe's grip only strengthened. He would hold on to those decades, those precious memories, for both of them.

A familiar figure – so much the ghost of two other rambunctious figures, so much its own brand of energetic confidence – waved at them from a diminishing distance.

Joe returned the wave, powered by another ghost….one that would always stand guard over this house. He wiped the mist gathering around his eyes as Trevor crossed over the spot Kate Martin had forever branded with her own welcome mat.

"Hey, Grandpa." Their boy didn't miss a beat, turning to Ruth and simultaneously turning on his best Martin charm. "Hi, Gramma."

Although his wife may not have given a visible response, the slight shift in Joe's hand would not be dismissed. It was a constant whenever one of their grandchildren, especially Trevor, appeared.

"So, what brings you here today? Are you ready to finally catch that fish that's been eluding you?" Joe alternately cringed and chuckled at the memory of his grandson's less-than-impressive (or, as he would say, mad) outdoors skills.

The boy let loose that full-force grin that he'd picked up too naturally from his uncle. "It's just playing hard to get, Grandpa. I've actually got something for you." With that, Trevor brought out the package he'd had tucked under his arm. When he handed it to Joe, the first thing the older man felt was the weight.

The book wasn't heavy, but it carried a different kind of weight.

Simple, shining gold etchings – matching the brilliance of the sun that day – embroidered the cherry-red casing. Each bold lined formed a letter that in turn created a word….a meaning.

Joe traced each of the three words, gazing up at his grandson with that recurring mist in his eyes.

"We…" Trevor cleared his throat, all of that poise and swagger taken over by something he rarely let others see: the quiet devotion and love that Ruth, above all others, always invoked. "We thought Grandma and you might like it. It's kinda like a memory book."

"Where did you get this?" Joe asked.

"Someplace...special." That roguish grin returned, as it always did. "It's a loan, you might say."

Joe only had one response. "What I might say is thank you. Thank you, and I love you."

Trevor shuffled his feet, clearly out of his comfort zone. Scratching his head, he shot a glance toward the door like it was an oasis. "Well, I'm gonna raid the kitchen. Give you guys a chance to browse through it."

After letting the boy make his graceful escape, Joe put an arm around Ruth With his other hand, he opened the album.

Images – some faded, all vibrant – reached past his eyes, into his heart: favorite community gathering places that time could not age: some long gone, none forgotten; chubby smiles that introduced the town's most beloved citizens to the world; young, couples who may not have all endured, but who always embraced the hope; bold headlines preserving triumphs and tragedies intertwined with the small, captured slices of everyday life; the diverse bundles of combative, devoted individuals that comprised Pine Valley's past, present, and future. A three-dimensional backdrop for the final image: the largest family of all.

It wasn't a grand Crystal Ball or a dazzling fundraiser. It was simply…

Their hands met at the cornerstone that unified the sea of smiling faces surrounding it.

His compass – his Ruth – gifted Joe her most beautiful, most knowing smile.

"Home."

####

THE END! In a sense, anyway. I'd like to think that everyone in PV continued 'honoring the legacy' for years to come.

If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to drop me a line or two. For everyone who read or reviewed, I'll sign off with one final

THANK YOU!