October 10, 1997

In the Inpatient Psychiatry Unit at Port Charles General Hospital, Dr. Ryan Grabler tore the final prescription from his pad and passed it to his resident with a deep sigh. It had been a long morning, at the end of a long week, and he was very in need of a call free weekend. Fortunately, it was only hours away. "I've written my way through all my prescriptions, so, I guess that must mean we're done for the day, right?" he quipped.

Psychiatry PGY2, Dr. Louise Elaine Winters apparently missed his humor. "They keep some spare pads up at the front nurses' station. I can go retrieve one for you if necessary," she offered.

"I actually have another prescription pad, but I also think I've seen everyone on the list unless there are some other patients of Dr. Collins's that didn't get transferred to my list," Ryan said. Sadly, that was a distinct possibility. Apparently when Kevin had needed to leave town abruptly for a family emergency a month earlier it hadn't occurred to him to arrange for coverage for his patients. Eventually, as medications, seclusion orders, and involuntary holds expired, it became apparent that poor planning on Kevin's part was going to have to be considered an emergency on someone's part and somehow Ryan had found himself that designated someone. To be fair their department chair, Dr. Gail Baldwin had taken some of the patients as well but that had still left Ryan with two-thirds of them.

"Dr. Davis made the clerk double and triple check the list to make sure that all of Dr. Collin's patients were reassigned to someone other than him," Dr. Winters informed him.

Ryan decided he could appreciate Dr. Davis's degree of conscientiousness that ensured no patient was languishing in the PCGH inpatient unit without an attending psychiatrist or he could be annoyed by Dr. Davis's refusal to chip in toward the greater good. It was probably best if he focused on the former. "Ok, well on that note then I'm quite confident we truly are done for the day. Dr. Davis is on call tonight and then Dr. Baldwin has the weekend and Dr. Locke has the holiday on Monday. I am going to come in and round quickly on my patients early Saturday and Monday morning and I'll be in very early on Tuesday so we can get through rounds in time for me to make it to career lunch at my son's school."

"You have a son?" Dr. Winters asked.

"Yes, Dylan, he is in fifth grade this year."

"Isn't fifth grade a little early for him to decide he wants to be a psychiatrist?" Dr. Winters asked.

"I don't think Dylan has any interest in becoming a psychiatrist. Basically, I was his fourth choice. Steven Speilberg didn't write back, his mother went last year, and Eddie Maine has a prior commitment to his day job-an FDA hearing on some new Beta Blocker ELQ pharmaceuticals is trying to get final approval on, which basically left me, everyone's favorite overworked neighborhood psychiatrist."

"Eddie Maine? I saw him in concert at Navy Pier right before medical school graduation. It's definitely true what they say about those leather pants," Dr. Winters said. Then she must have thought better of her candidness because she looked down at the chart rack and for a good minute before slowly deflecting her eyes upwards to some neutral point on the wall.

Ryan decided that clarifying exactly what people said about his stepson's leather pants was not his best approach. "Also known as his brother, Ned Ashton -ELQ Corporate Counsel- but I'm sure that his Eddie Maine persona would have been more of a hit with the fifth graders at Lilac Park Elementary."

"Your son is Eddie Maine?" Dr. Winters asked. She picked a different point on the wall for her eyes but still didn't meet his.

"Technically, Ned is my stepson, Tracy was married to an English monarch thirty years ago. Technicalities often just make family more complicated though so he's Dylan and Shannon's big brother which is the most important thing."

"But truly, he would be their half-brother, right?" Dr. Winters asked.

"Yes, but that isn't anything Tracy or I feel the need to emphasize."

"Is it something that Ned feels the need to emphasize?" Dr. Winters asked.

In general Ryan felt it was advisable to keep a degree of professional distance in medicine, perhaps especially in Psychiatry. He definitely upheld that policy with patients. His housestaff were a bit of a different matter he supposed. Or maybe they were.

"I wouldn't say that at all. There is a significant age gap between Ned and his younger siblings which doesn't provide for a typical sibling peer relationship but they still have a very close relationship."

"Well, I guess it works for some families," Dr. Winters said.

Ryan wasn't really sure what to make of his resident's comment. He suspected that she had half siblings she didn't feel connected to but wasn't sure it was appropriate for him to clarify that. "Ok, well, I need to stop at Rose Lawn and see a few patients before this day finally ends. I will be available by pager if you need anything," he said.

Ryan was just about to exit the unit when he saw his brother in law, Dr. Alan Quartermaine, and his usual resident entourage. After the usual exchange of pleasantries, Alan said, "We came up and rounded on Mr. Marlton, is he on your service?"

"No, Dr. Davis picked up that patient." Ryan said. He was still well aware of the patient Alan was referring to. The guy swallowed utensils regularly and got transferred back and forth between Hillcrest, his residential treatment center in Merrimack, and PCGH for the surgeons to remove forks and spoons from his GI tract via endoscopy. Or he had, yesterday as medical director for the Inpatient Psychiatry Unit at PCGH, Ryan had been informed that his residential center no longer felt they were an appropriate facility to care for him.

"Is Dr. Davis here? I just saw the patient and from our standpoint he could be discharged. I'm sorry we didn't get up here earlier but we had to add on a few cases in the main OR so I'm just coming out of the OR now at almost two o'clock in the afternoon. I know you like to get transfers in place much earlier on Fridays especially in the lead up to a holiday weekend and I do apologize for that."

"Somehow, Dr. Davis finished rounds at ten but he is on call and available by pager. Unfortunately, as medical director for this unit I can tell you that Mr. Marlton's residential treatment center has refused to take him back. Dr. Davis was aware of that this morning but I'm not sure if he reached out to case management about alternative placements. I can let case management know that from your standpoint he is suitable for discharge and that surgery is signing off."

"Thanks, Ryan, we appreciate it," Alan said.

"No problem, I'll walk out with you, I'm headed over to Rose Lawn to see a few patients before the weekend."

XXXXXXXX

In his office at ELQ, Ned Ashton turned his computer back on and sat back down at his desk. He had survived another Deception Cosmetics Annual Shareholder's Meeting. As an added bonus his grandfather would be tied up on the golf course at the Country Club for the next few hours so he was guaranteed a few interruption free hours to finish preparing for his FDA hearing.

Ned released a sigh as pulled up the file with the phase III trial data on Carvedilol. The efficacy and superiority studies looked good so it looked promising for FDA approval. Of course, nothing was certain until the FDA issued their approval. As he toggled through the spreadsheet that Dr. Ingstrom had created his intercom buzzed. Absently he hit the button without moving his eyes from his screen. "Yes, Staci," he said as he continued to scroll.

"Your cousin is here to see you, Mr. Ashton. I know you said you didn't want to be disturbed but well," Staci said. Her words trailed off without punctuation as if she felt there was more she should say but couldn't find the words.

Staci's apparent discomfort led Ned to presume it wasn't AJ waiting outside his office. "It's fine, Staci, just show him in," he said. He hadn't spoken to Jason since he had married Carly. Jason had told him it was likely better that way but Ned wondered about that.

Ned's presumptions were correct. Jason sauntered across his threshold then stood in front of his desk, shoved his hands in his pockets, and blinked twice for good measure. "I can come back later if this is a bad time?" he offered.

"No, no, it's fine. Please have a seat. Grandfather will be distracted on the golf course for a few hours and I was just trying to take advantage of the guaranteed peace and quiet to get some work done. I'm glad you're here. I've missed you and have really been meaning to call you," he said.

Jason remained standing. "That is actually part of why I stopped by. I'm going to need to go out of town for a bit and I wanted to make sure you had a way to reach me in case you needed anything."

Ned noted how carefully Jason chose his words. He supposed he had learned that from Sonny. Or maybe he had learned it again from Sonny. Jason had grown up the son of two attorneys and been trained as a Boston Police Detective. Before the accident subtlety and diplomacy had been considered art forms. Art forms his cousin had excelled with.

"Thank you, I appreciate that. We're family, Jase, we should always be there for each other."

Jason laid a card down on the desk. "This is the best number to reach me," he said.

"Am I allowed to ask where you're going?" Ned asked.

"It's probably better if you don't. I already went by the house to say goodbye to grandmother. I left a letter for Emily and one for Allison," Jason said.

Ned decided not to point out that Emily and Allison were not Alan and Monica's only children. He could kind of see they were the two at just the right age to understand what had happened, just accept Jason as he was, and not be confused by the frustration and even apparent anger that replaced gentleness. AJ was far too analytical and Kirk and Katelyn were really just too young.

"Ok, well stay safe, come back home to us," Ned said.

"I'll do what I can," Jason said simply and then he turned and walked out of Ned's office.

XXXXXXXX

Dara Jensen parked along the curb in front of 300 Pine Boulevard. The house in front of her was mostly made of stone and probably around twenty-five hundred square feet, both of which appeared typical for the neighborhood. Unlike most homes in the neighborhood it was not an owner-occupied property. No, the property in front of her was owned by the London Family Trust which was administered by Lee Baldwin. Trust documents granted lifetime tenancy of the home to Faye London Peterson and any of her direct descendants. Dara could only conclude there was no love lost between Roger Peterson and his in-laws, Harvey and Estelle London.

Dara released a frustrated sigh as she got out of her car and made her way to the Peterson's front door. She depressed the buzzer and waited. Just as she was about to press the buzzer again the door was pulled open and she stood face to face with a blonde-haired woman in her mid-forties. She was overweight but seemed to believe that if she crammed herself into the next size down she would appear svelte rather than like an overstuffed turkey, which in Dara's opinion she did.

"I'm sorry but we don't accept solicitations," Faye Peterson said.

"I'm not soliciting. I'm Dara Jensen from the Port Charles and Chapparal County Combined Prosecutor's Office. I need to speak with your daughter, I tried to reach you at the hospital but I was informed that Tiffany was discharged this morning," Dara said.

"Alright, come in," Faye said as if she was doing Dara a large favor.

Dara stood in the small foyer while Faye closed and then locked the door.

"I can't imagine why you would need to speak to Tiffany again. She already spoke to two different detectives. Don't you people ever talk to each other?" Faye asked.

"I assure you that I have gone over all of evidence of this case with Detectives Garcia and Jordan but that has left me with some questions I think only your daughter can answer," Dara said. She chose her words even more carefully than usual as it seemed that Faye Peterson was already on the warpath.

"I can't imagine how. The way your office has mishandled this case from the beginning has just made a horrible situation even worse. I am warning you, if Scott Baldwin does not spend the rest of his miserable life in jail, we will be suing."

"I understand that you want to see justice done. I assure you that our office has the same goals. You don't have to allow me to speak with your daughter but I don't see how we can successfully prosecute this case without her full cooperation."

Faye seemed to be considering Dara's words. "Alright, fine you can talk to her but I want to be present."

"That is of course your right, and I will certainly honor that if it is your request. Let me just say that in my experience often adolescents are uncomfortable giving details of the assault in front of their parents. It is thought that they want to protect their parents as of course all parents feel completely helpless when someone hurts their child."

"Fine, you win, you can speak to her alone but I'm telling her that it is up to her when the conversation ends."

"Mrs. Peterson, I assure you this is not about winning. I just want to see justice served," Dara said.

XXXXXXXX

The knock at the door startled Tiffany Peterson. "Just a minute, mom," she called quickly as she started stuffing wads of cash back into her bag. She zipped the bag and then tossed it into her closet and pulled the door shut. Then she crossed over to her bedroom door, undid the lock and opened it.

"Did you have the door locked? You know I don't like it when you and your brother lock your doors," her mother said.

"Sorry mom, force of habit, Ali always locks her door," Tiffany said.

"We don't lock doors in this house. This is Ms. Jensen from the DA's Office. She needs to ask you some more questions so they can put Mr. Baldwin away for good. I told her as soon as you say the word she needs to leave. I'll be downstairs," her mother said.

Tiffany saw the African American woman standing behind her mother. She had been on tv when Lucky Spencer's mom had been on trial for the murder of Damian Smith. "So, what questions do you have?" she asked.

"Perhaps it would be easiest if we just went back to the beginning."

Tiffany sensed the distrust. For a moment she wondered if the questions from the second detective had been an attempt to catch her in a lie. Then she wondered if they actually had caught her in a lie. "I can't keep retelling this! I thought being raped was bad but good grief the police basically raped me all over making me tell and retell this story. How am I supposed to heal?"

"I'm sorry, I am sure this is hard for you and I am sorry but we have new evidence which basically proves that Scott Baldwin couldn't have raped you," Dara said.

"Yeah, well I was there, my body says different!"

"No one is suggesting you weren't raped, Tiffany. We're just saying that it can't be the man you implicated originally."

"You're accusing me of lying!"

"No one is accusing you of lying. Sometimes things can get confused in our minds. Perhaps your rapist looked a lot like Scott Baldwin."

"My rapist was Scott Baldwin! That is my final story and I will stick to it. Now either you leave or I tell my mother that you're being mean to me. She won't like that and since her father is one of Mayor McClintock's campaign donors that won't exactly be good for you."

"I'm going to just leave you my card. If anything else comes to you please call or have your parents call," Dara said and then she started out of the room.

Tiffany smiled. She wasn't sure that the annoying Ms. Jensen had believed her story but at least she was out of her face.

XXXXXXXX

"Eureka! I think I found it!" Officer Fred Johnson exclaimed aloud. There was a black jeep registered in Pennsylvania with the plate ACE009. It appeared to be registered to Chandler Enterprises in Pine Valley, PA. With a few more clicks he printed out the registration and went to go talk to Detective Garcia.

XXXXXXXX

Danielle Ashley's cell phone started to ring as she and Amy stepped off the elevator at Deception.

"Go ahead and answer it if you want. Seriously you've already gone above and beyond for the week," Amy said.

With trepidation, Danielle pulled the phone from her oversized tote bag, and extended the antennae. "Hello," she said uneasily.

"Is there a reason you have been ignoring my calls?" Rex Stanton's angry voice boomed back at her.

"I'm at work now, this isn't really a good time," Danielle said.

"I'll determine when it's a good time. I need your help with something and the only acceptable answer is how can I help Uncle Rex," Rex said.

Danielle rolled her eyes. "What do you need?" she asked.

"I'm marrying Lucy," Rex began.

"Yes, I know, she called me after you proposed. I hope she passed on my congratulations to you. I probably should have called myself but I've been busy at work. Today was the Deception Cosmetics Shareholder's Meeting," she said.

"No, I mean I'm marrying Lucy Coe tonight."

"Uh Lucy didn't mention that."

"Everything at the Port Charles Hotel was booked so I had to reserve the banquet room at Chez Nous on the Square. I am going to need you to meet the florist there at six o'clock so they can decorate. Make sure they do something tasteful. Then it is your responsibility to get Lucy there by eight o'clock. Bring Jake and make sure he wears a tuxedo, we will need extra attendants."

Danielle was still trying to wrap her mind around the instructions when the line went dead. As had become typical Rex had finished barking his orders and thus was done with the conversation. Why had she ever believed he might actually genuinely care about her?

"Is everything alright," Amy asked.

"My uncle is about to marry Lucy Coe."

"Wow!" Amy said.

"Yeah, basically, I haven't quite figured out if I'm meant to support her or if I should try to convince her she is making a mistake."

"You mean because it's so sudden?" Amy asked.

"I suppose that could be a diplomatic approach if I decide to convince her she should wait. It is rather sudden. They have only known each other since July and they only got engaged two days ago."

"Tracy recommended a long engagement after Ned proposed to Jenny Eckert. He wasn't deterred. They got engaged sometime in March and married on May Day. Continuing the holiday theme, they were divorced before Labor Day."

Danielle raised an eyebrow. "All in the same year?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Amy said.