Dr. Monica Quartermaine stepped out of the cardiac catheterization suite, removed the heavy leaden apron, and yawned. To say she was exhausted was an understatement. Since Dr. Dorman's death they had one less cardiologist on staff at Port Charles General Hospital and everyone was feeling the strain of that. Beyond that, by the time her former colleague, a man who had kidnapped and tried to rape her, had been found dead in the morgue, where the police eventually had determined it was likely he had been hiding his drug stash, it had been hard for Monica to have felt anything but relief that his reign of terror had finally ended.

She wouldn't exactly say she was glad he was dead, because she believed in the value of life, even a life as depraved as Pierce had made his. Yet, his death had given her some closure, some security that it was really over, that he wasn't still lurking out there somewhere preparing to strike again when she, or even worse one of her young daughters, least expected it. Closure was good, but it still left her to question how, or perhaps when, she had become such a poor judge of character. Once she had considered Dr. Pierce Dorman a respected and trusted colleague, even a friend. That had all changed one night the previous December when she had realized he was looking for a lot more than professional collaboration.

It had started off innocently. Or perhaps she was just naïve. Either way she had been focused on the relative merits of streptokinase and TPA when she stepped into the Olive Branch for dinner and monthly Cardiology Journal Club.

December 5, 1996
Dr. Monica Quartermaine felt uneasy as she slipped into her coat in the entry way of the Olive Branch after a cardiology journal club meeting.

"Why don't you just ride with me and I'll bring you back to pick up your car later?" Dr. Pierce Dorman offered.

"I don't really need that journal back tonight. You can just bring it to the hospital tomorrow."

"Well, I was hoping to get your input on a patient as well. They really should have surgery, but they refuse so it's a salvage procedure. I have a copy of the films at home and I'd like a second opinion on my approach."

"You really shouldn't get in the habit of bringing cath films home that could be considered a breach of patient confidentiality," Monica said.

Dr. Dorman gave her a slick smile. "You really are a stickler for playing by the rules aren't you, Monica?"

"I just think you should be a little more cautious. I'm sure you wouldn't want to compromise patient confidentiality. But, alright, if you have the angiography at home, I'll look at it. I have a full schedule in the cath lab tomorrow, so I probably wouldn't have much time to go over this with you then. Let me just call Alan and tell him I'll be later than I expected."

"He really does try to keep you on a short chain doesn't he? Come on you can use my car phone," Dr. Dorman said.

Somehow his last comment made her uncomfortable, but she tried to dismiss that as she followed him across the town square to his car. It appeared that several inches of snow had fallen while they had been having dinner. Several public works staff were running snowblowers over the paths. "Maybe we really are going to get the dumping of snow that the weatherman promised. I suppose we are into December it's time for snow. The kids will be thrilled, I'm sure Kirk plans on wearing his pajamas inside out tonight."

"What?"

"Oh, you know, the superstition that if you wear your pajamas inside out there will be enough snow overnight that school will be cancelled in the morning."

"I suppose I missed out on that growing up in Miami," Dr. Dorman said.

That was odd because Monica distinctively remembered him telling Emily all about growing up in Boston. He had joked about their connection via their place of birth and even offered to take her to a Red Sox game. Emily had declined, politely of course because she was and would always be Paige's daughter. Monica blinked a few tears and forced a bittersweet smile at the memory of her friend.

"Is something wrong?" Pierce asked as he unlocked his miata and then opened and held the door for her.

"I was just thinking of a friend," Monica said as she sunk down into the car.

"You're too kind, if you're still feeling sorry for Dr. Collins. I always knew he was a few fries short of a happy meal," Pierce said after he got in and started the car.

"Pierce!" Monica admonished.

Apparently Pierce missed the discomfort in her eyes because he laughed as he pulled away from the curb. "That's a good one isn't it. I picked that up from the little kid of my housekeeper. His mother is too, if you know what I mean."

"I don't think mental illness is something to be mocked. The whole situation with, and surrounding, Dr. Collins really is nothing short of a tragedy. He wasn't even who I was thinking of though."

"You and Alan must have been comparing notes. That sounds distinctively like what he said at the press conference after Kevin's arrest. Doesn't it ever get stifling to toe the family party line?"

"If you knew my family very well you would understand that independent thought is highly encouraged and lauded, even if only so my father in law has an opponent for debate."

"That sounds positively scintillating, really."

"We have our moments. Edward's bark is a lot worse than his bite," Monica said.

It was. Of course, the thought brought her back to thinking of Paige and Emily. Saying that adjusting to life in the Quartermaine household had been a process for Emily would be an understatement. There had been many moments over the past two years since Paige's death when Monica had wondered if they would ever get there. Was there a way that Emily might become her daughter as well? Honestly, they still weren't quite there but they were close enough that Monica could start to believe it would happen. She drew a lot of hope from that. She smiled a little at the thought as she reached into her purse for her cell phone and started to dial her own home number.

"I said you could use my car phone, of course we can play this however you want," Pierce said after she had disconnected her conversation with Alan.

"Oh, don't worry about that, I always have extra minutes at the end of the month," Monica said.

In retrospect the whole conversation made her uncomfortable and she could see that there were several innuendos she had just missed. At the time she had truly believed that Pierce just wanted to discuss angioplasty approaches. Even when they had reached his cabin on Mt. Kisco and she saw the roaring fire, the chilled champagne, and the roses she had tried to convince herself that Pierce hadn't set all of that up for her, for them. Except he had.

She had been willing to pretend she hadn't noticed any of that. She had been willing to allow him to save face. She hadn't wanted to compromise their professional relationship. She hadn't been willing to compromise her marriage vows either though. That had shocked him.

December 5, 1996
"What I don't see is what exactly there is to betray. You and Alan are married in name only. You can't deny that you return my feelings!" Pierce challenged.

Monica shivered at his words. She and Alan had drifted apart, she wouldn't deny that. A lot had happened in the past three years-her tumor, the autoimmune nightmare that followed that, Paige's death and Emily coming into their family. Then there had been Hal and Jan's death, Jason's determination to pull away from their family, and Steve Hardy's death. None of that had been easy and although she and Alan had somehow come through all of it was hard to say they had really come through it together. Yet, Alan was still her husband. "This is ridiculous, Pierce! I'm married to Alan and I love him," she finally said.

Pierce raised an eyebrow as if he couldn't possibly believe that. "Do you? " he asked.

Dr. Alan Quartermaine was a complex man. In spite of his goofy sense of humor he was really a brilliant surgeon. Beyond that he was a wonderful, gentle, kind compassionate man. He was the father of her children. He was a good father, he really was. He was a good husband too, when she let him be.

"Yes, I do! Now, I think you should take me back to pick up my car . We can discuss that patient tomorrow, at the hospital," Monica said. She reached for her coat that Pierce had draped over the back of the couch and started to slip into it.

"So, now you're running away from your feelings?"

"I'm not running from anything. It's been a long day and I'd like to get home and check on my children, now, will you please take me back to pick up my car?"

Pierce looked incredulous. "So, you're going to lie to my face now? Or is this your idea of foreplay?" Pierce smiled. "Antagonism is like foreplay for you, Monica, isn't it?" he asked.

Monica gasped involuntarily. It wasn't so much the comment, although that was clearly inappropriate. It was more the evil, almost psychotic gleam in Pierce's eyes. That scared her. She reached for her purse and clutched it tightly. "Perhaps I should call Alan for a ride. I'll just tell him you had car issues or something," she said.

"I think you're just afraid that once you've had a Pierce Dorman experience everything, and everyone, else will pale in comparison. It is a common fear, but we can work through that."

Monica resisted the urge to laugh. She knew Pierce was cocky, some of that just went with the territory for interventional cardiologists. She had told Alan that when she had been trying to smooth over what she had, at least at the time, believed to be a true misunderstanding. Alan had argued that good physicians had a confidence to competence ratio slightly below one. With that thought she turned away and started to open her purse for her cell. As her fingers curled around the phone she felt warm breath on the back of her neck as Pierce wrapped his arms around her shoulders and spun her around to face him. His lips met hers.

Monica pulled back from the kiss. She saw anger flash in Pierce's eyes and adrenaline carried her across the room and out the door. As she was running down Pierce's driveway she briefly wondered if she was overreacting, but her instincts only caused her to run faster. She came out on Mountain Road and turned to head down the mountain.

Eventually about a mile down the road she became somewhat assured Pierce wasn't following after her. She slowed, then stopped, caught her breath, and pulled out her cell phone. She frowned when she realized it had no signal. To make matters worse it was still snowing and Mountain Road was really an access road to the scenic overlook at the peak of Mt. Kisco. The few houses along it were sparse and spread out. She might be trudging miles in a snowstorm. It was a minor miracle that she had selected a pants suit and flats when dressing earlier.

Five minutes into her trek she heard the sound of an engine. She tensed as she worried she had been too hasty to conclude Pierce would just let her flee into the snowstorm. Yet when she turned her head slightly she saw a motorcycle coming through the snow. She was quite certain Pierce didn't own a motorcycle, but she still took a step back almost into the road ditch as the bike slowed and then stopped beside her.

"Jason? What are you doing out here?" she asked when she saw her nephew who was really technically not her nephew. He was the son of her husband's cousin who had lived with her inlaws during his teens. For that reason Alan and Hal had always had more of sibling relationship . Hal and his wife Jan had made Alan Jason's godfather, and Edward Quartermaine had always considered Jason as much a grandson as he did the children of his three children. Unfortunately, all of that had changed after Jason's parents were killed by a drunk driver. The accident left Jason with traumatic brain injury and without any memories of his connection to the Quartermaine family. It had been nearly nine months since Jason had stormed out of their home for the final time.

Jason shrugged his shoulders in his leather jacket. "Do you want a ride or not?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, a ride would be great, thank you."

That night, as she had ridden on the back of Jason's motorcycle, she had tried to reassure herself that it was over. Except she had known it couldn't be. She would still have to face Pierce in the morning. They would have to continue to work together and she would have to tell Alan what could have, but hadn't, happened. Somewhat surprisingly the latter had been the catalyst they had needed to make a real effort to put their marriage back together. She and Alan had been through a lot in the ten months that had followed but, unlike the preceding three years, they had not only come through it, but they had truly come through it together.

She smiled at that thought as she made her way back into the Cardiac Care Unit and sat down to write post procedure orders for her patient. Just as she was signing the orders she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head to look up into the eyes of her husband.

Alan smiled. "I'm done for the day and about to go change over to Dr. Breslin. Do you need me to take care of anything on my way home?"

"No, AJ said he would pick up Alli and Em after their practices. Perhaps he will get them in the right frame of mind for tonight," Monica said.

Alan raised an eyebrow. "Which would be what?"

"That we will always support Ned and, by extension, his wife. AJ said that was the gist of your sister's speech at the reception," Monica said. Their oldest son had been Ned's best man, as well as the lone representative from their immediate family, at his recent wedding. If her nephew had announced his impending nuptials even forty-eight hours before they happened she might have felt badly about missing the event. But he hadn't, and she and Alan had both been on call part of the previous weekend so flying off to Florida to witness Caroline Benson becoming Ned's third wife hadn't been an option.

"Perhaps the third time will be the charm for Ned," Alan said.

Monica couldn't really believe that somehow, but she decided not to verbalize that. "I really should make my afternoon rounds so I can get out of here and get ready for tonight," she said.

"I'll see you at home then. If you're efficient, perhaps we can honor one of our favorite traditions," Alan said.

Monica closed the chart she had been writing in and stood. "I think I've been provided with excellent motivation. I'll see you at home," she said.

Alan winked. "I'll be waiting," he said.