Chapter 29 – A Night to Never Remember
At a clinic in an unknown location, a certain doctor was awaiting the arrival of two subjects for him to test his latest research on.
*A man enters the doctor's office*
Dr. Arthur Cabot: Ah, Warrington! About time! I presume you've come with news as to the whereabouts of Spencer Cassadine and Trina Robinson?
Warrington: Brennan has informed me that they have just boarded the plane and will be arriving in Paris in approximately eight hours, assuming that their flight hasn't been delayed.
Dr. Cabot: Excellent!
Warrington: Forgive me, but I thought the memory transfers could only be conducted on identical twins.
Dr. Cabot: After what happened with Franco Baldwin and Drew Cain, I wouldn't go as far as to say they can only be conducted on identical twins, but there can be disastrous results if the subjects are not identical twins. At least, that's how it used to be. Baldwin and Cain were cousins, so that's why the transfer ultimately worked, even though I'm told that Baldwin did retain a few of Cain's memories after the procedure was reversed. However, this showed me that the subjects do not need to be identical twins and gave me the confidence to broaden my research.
Warrington: So you've developed a way to ensure the memory transfers between more distant relatives are a success?
Dr. Cabot: Even better. The subjects don't have to be related to each other at all.
Warrington: But what about your study on identical twins?
Dr. Cabot: This new research of mine takes precedence over the memory transfer project, as I believe it is a major breakthrough. Having said that, I at some point plan on picking up where I left off with Dr. Kevin Collins and his twin brother, Ryan Chamberlain.
Warrington: But Chamberlain is dead.
Dr. Cabot: That is true, he is indeed dead. But his memories live on!
*He holds up a USB flash drive with a label that reads "Ryan Chamberlain"*
Dr. Cabot: And as it just so happens, Dr. Collins is accompanying his wife, Laura, to Paris, in order to keep an eye on her grandson, as he enjoys his final moments with his girlfriend.
Warrington: So you've lured them all this way so you can implant Chamberlain's memories into Dr. Collins?
Dr. Cabot: You are correct in that Dr. Collins being here would give me an opportunity to test my latest research on memory transfers between twins. However, that is not the reason for their visit. As I told you moments ago, the memory transfer project has been put on hold.
*He puts the flash drive away in a drawer*
Warrington: So what is the reason?
Dr. Cabot: As you know, I've developed a new drug, mnemeophrine.
Warrington: That's the drug that people refer to as the Pensieve Pill, yes?
Dr. Cabot: Yes, though as the developer of the drug, I prefer to use its proper name. And while I'm happy to see that it is helping elderly dementia patients hold onto their memories and retain newly-learned information, as well as, from what I hear, aiding in recovering from amnesia as a result of traumatic brain injuries, that's not the initial reason why I developed it.
Warrington: Why did you develop it?
Dr. Cabot: I developed it for the simple purpose of accessing repressed memories. Now, when taken in small dosages, it does exactly that. If you're struggling to remember something important, a small dose of mnemeophrine can help, but it can be quite dangerous for anyone to take it when they're of sound mind, especially at high dosages. And this is the reason why it's a highly addictive controlled substance, as people have been using it to re-live their memories, hence how it got its nickname.
Warrington: I understand all that. But what is it that you're planning on doing once Spencer Cassadine and Trina Robinson arrive?
Dr. Cabot: From what I've been told, they are coming to Paris to spend time together before Trina heads off to the Sorbonne for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study abroad, and, let's just say, if Spencer is constantly on her mind, she's going to have a very difficult time concentrating on her studies. Meanwhile, Spencer is needed back home in Port Charles in order to be a devoted father to his children, and help their mother care for them, which he cannot do if he has Trina constantly on his mind.
Warrington: I beg your pardon, but did you say he has children?
Dr. Cabot: That's right, I did.
Warrington: Children, as in plural?
Dr. Cabot: Yes.
Warrington: I was not aware that Spencer Cassadine had any children at all, let alone multiple children.
Dr. Cabot: The paternity of Prince Ace Cassadine is disputed, but Nikolas Cassadine is in no shape to be the father figure that Ace needs. Spencer is also the only father-figure that Ace has known, so regardless of whether Nikolas or Spencer is his father, Ace will be raised knowing that he is a Cassadine, rather than discovering it when he's older. Spencer's grown to love that little boy. Meanwhile I am told that he has another child on the way with Esme Prince, who is also Ace's mother. So, his family needs him, and since he's coming back to Port Charles once Trina is fully settled in at the Sorbonne, he'll be able to be the father that these children otherwise wouldn't have.
Warrington: And how does mnemeophrine factor in?
Dr. Cabot: Simple. Mnemeophrine works by tuning everything else around a person out so they can focus on their memories free of distractions. And if there's a particular memory that a person is trying to recall, taking the mnemeophrine causes the memory to, shall we say, "bubble up to the surface." In other words, they can remember it so strongly that it's all they can think about, and everything else is ignored until it wears off.
Warrington: Well, I follow you so far, but what's this got to do with Spencer Cassadine and Trina Robinson? From what I've heard, they don't seem like they're having trouble with their memories.
Dr. Cabot: Well, as I said, I developed mnemeophrine for the purpose of accessing repressed memories. Once the memories surface, there are so many things that one can do with them.
Warrington: Such as?
Dr. Cabot: Remove them!
Warrington: Wait, are you telling me you're going to remove their memories?
Dr. Cabot: Not all of them. Just the ones they recall about each other. And lucky for us, from what I've been told, Spencer was able to successfully recall his repressed memory of his fornication with Esme Prince and the drunken aftermath, thanks to that single pill that Betty Rutherford obtained for him. This memory is likely going to constantly be on his mind, and hence will be easier to retrieve and remove. No doubt his other negative memories about Esme will resurface, as well as nearly all his happy memories of Trina.
Warrington: So you're telling me you're going to be removing most of his memories regarding his love life?
Dr. Cabot: Exactly! Once I'm through with Spencer, the only memories he'll have of his love life will be of happier days with Esme.
Warrington: And what about Trina?
Dr. Cabot: Hers will be a bit trickier. Not only is she very torn as to how she feels about Spencer, but going to the Sorbonne is weighing so heavily on her mind at the moment that these other memories of hers will be more difficult to retrieve.
Warrington: And you're sure about this? How they feel about each other?
Dr. Cabot: There's no way of knowing for sure how either of them are feeling until they get here, and we are able to do a scan of their brainwaves which we will easily be able to do, but I'd be surprised if this wasn't how they feel about each other.
Warrington: So what's your plan on getting them here then?
Dr. Cabot: Let's just say their little journey down the Seine will take them far north beyond the English Channel, to a place where one wouldn't be able to reach via boat.
Warrington: Won't they notice that they're being taken somewhere that isn't on their itinerary?
Dr. Cabot: Not if they're both asleep during the trip. And, once we're through with them, they will have been returned to where they're supposed to be. Trina will wake up in Paris, well-rested and ready to go off to the Sorbonne. As for Prince Cassadine, he'll be back in Port Charles, reunited with his family.
Warrington: I hope you're right.
Dr. Cabot: The widow of the late Shiloh Archer has insisted that we put our trust in her.
Warrington: Wait, you don't mean Janelle Benson?
Dr. Cabot: Well, she goes by Janelle Clayton now, but yes, that is indeed who I am referring to. Not only is she Shiloh's widow, but she's the new leader of the organization formerly known as Dawn of Day.
Warrington: The new leader? Isn't she a bit young to be taking on such a responsibility? The woman is barely in her 30s.
Dr. Cabot: Maybe so, but that's what I've been told. She married Shiloh when they both were incarcerated in Pentonville Penitentiary. When Shiloh died, he left her everything. No doubt this included all his money, but it seems he also left her his tools of the trade.
Warrington: How is this possible? Once Dawn of Day was exposed for what it was, people wanted nothing more to do with it! Even Shiloh's right hand woman Harmony Miller turned against him.
Dr. Cabot: And Janelle took her place! She was the last person to join Dawn of Day before Shiloh was killed, and she did so willingly when she married him. No drugs or brainwashing required, which was lucky for them seeing how they were both in prison at the time. The only thing left was "sealing the deal" if you know what I mean, which they somehow were able to do without the guards noticing. She knew exactly what she was getting into, and exactly what she needed to do, and when Shiloh died, while she could just as easily have had the organization die with him, she instead decided to carry on its legacy. Her organization is a "spiritual successor" to Dawn of Day. It has a new name, a new home, and a new way of attracting members, and I must say that so far, it's been a major success. Janelle wants everyone there to think that she's not their leader and instead just another one of them, when really she's the one calling the shots. But she emphasizes strongly the importance of trust, which is what she insists we must do now.
Warrington: Trust her?
Dr. Cabot: Exactly.
Warrington: And what if she leads us astray?
Dr. Cabot: We'll cross that bridge if we get to it.
Esme lay in bed in a lot of pain, both physically and emotionally. Nelle came into her room to check on her.
Nelle: Hi Esme!
Esme: Hey.
Nelle: How was your first day back at PCU?
Esme: Absolute hell.
Nelle: Okay, well, um, would you like to talk about it? If not I understand.
Esme: I was expecting for people to not react well to my being there again, and sure enough I heard everyone whispering about me as I went around the halls looking for my creative writing class. I mostly ignored it, though I heard somebody say that I should be handed off to Sonny Corinthos and he'd know what to do with me. Or something like that. So to me that felt like they were threatening me.
Nelle: That definitely was uncalled for. Especially since Sonny has killed multiple people over the years and is guilty of other serious crimes on top of it, yet hardly anyone seems to care. Some people even say they'd trust him more than they'd trust the PCPD to handle situations. I'm guessing the person who said this was one of them.
Esme: Maybe. I chose to ignore it.
Nelle: Good.
Esme: But then this guy came up to me and made all these creepy remarks about "the revenge-porn-girl" has returned to the scene of the crime and how I "bedded my boyfriend's father" and his father was more of a man than he was. And yeah, it's true that I think Spence still has a lot of growing up to do emotionally, even for someone his age.
Nelle: It's understandable why he'd know about the revenge porn, since you distributed the video to everyone at the university.
Esme: I know, and that's what I hate! I didn't just send it to everyone's phone, but the video ended up appearing on the projector in the classroom during the middle of a lecture! At the time, I remember feeling a big rush, but now I look back and wonder why the hell I would do something like that? So, I guess him saying that to me was justified.
Nelle: Something else must have happened though, since you say he was creepy.
Esme: Yes. He made this remark about showing me how he was much more of a man than Spencer was. And I turned around and told him that Spencer was more of a man than he was and to leave me alone.
Nelle: And did he leave you alone?
Esme: Well he stopped following me around the halls, but then again we weren't far from my classroom. I was worried I'd have to be classmates with him throughout the semester, but thankfully he wasn't.
Nelle: Esme, you handled that perfectly! You stood up to him despite everything weighing so heavily on your mind.
Esme: I know. I was really tempted to turn around and slap him, but I'm glad I didn't. I still feel like comments like that directed at me are justifiable given…what I did.
Nelle: Trust me, you don't. They're not justified in harassing you. That's straight up wrong.
Esme: You're right. But that's not even the worst of it.
Nelle: Okay, so then what happened?
Esme: Well I ended up hating my creative writing class and I don't think I'm going to be able to express my thoughts, as the teacher is very strict about "standards" that are unrealistically high, so it defeats the purpose of being creative, and writing for the sake of writing. I shouldn't have waited so long to apply. I actually looked up this instructor on Rate My Professors, and she gets terrible reviews, but hers was the only class that had an opening. I guess this is the reason why.
Nelle: That's what sucks. Not just about school, but about life in general. My philosophy is that if you see something that you like, whether it's signing up for classes at PCU or buying an outfit at a clothing store, claim it before someone else does.
Esme: I learned that the hard way, I supposed. So it looks like I'll have to wait another semester for another creative writing class with a better instructor.
Nelle: You don't need to take a class in order to write. I'd say get your ideas on paper, or type them up on the computer, and then later when you take a class with a different instructor, they can show you what you can improve in a more realistic way to help you be a better writer, as opposed to insisting that you have to conform to anything really. Creativity is all about pushing boundaries.
Esme: I suppose so. But that's just one thing that happened today that I'm upset about.
Nelle: Okay, what else happened?
Esme: Well, I ended up really liking my psychology instructor. I'll admit he was rather vocal about his beliefs regarding certain things, but they line up with mine, so it didn't bother me at all. He of course gave us homework, which I was expecting, and he offered multiple ways of earning extra credit, one of which was to donate to All Our Children!
Nelle: Really? That's wonderful! I'm glad we're making a difference.
Esme: Not everybody sees it that way though. As I was walking out this one girl came up to me and went on this long rant about how it's unethical to ask us to donate money for extra credit, and I could see her point if it was the only way, but it wasn't. But the thing that really upset me was…
*She finds herself crying once again*
Esme: She said that our organization is a place for unfit parents to either sit around doing nothing or else going off partying while the sponsors look after our children, and that we're leeching off people's money! *Sniffle* She also said that people under the age of 25 shouldn't have children, and if they do, the children should be taken away and put up for adoption, and this really hurt. She made it sound like adoption is such a wonderful thing, and that people adopt children to give them better lives than what they would've had if they were raised by their biological family. I told her this isn't always the case, that my adoptive family mistreated me, and…
Nelle: It's okay, you can tell me.
Esme: *Sniffle* I didn't mention your name, but I told her that I had a friend who was like a sister to me, who grew up with an adoptive piece of garbage "father" who sold parts of her body on the black market to pay his debts, and I also told her what you shared at our meeting the other day about how you eventually moved to a one-bedroom apartment and were forced to sleep on the sofa, and you didn't even know he wasn't your biological father. And she was like "Well, you're in the minority!" when I know this isn't the case at all!
*She sniffles and cries for several seconds while Nelle rubs her shoulders to comfort her*
Esme: Even before I came here, I knew that not everybody who adopts children does so because they want to give them a better home. And sometimes adoptions fall through, and the child is forced to grow up in foster care. Leann was telling me about how nobody wanted to adopt her because of her heart condition, so she was forced to grow up in that clinic.
In any case, I told that bitch that I'm a member of All Our Children and that it's nothing like how she described, and I'm not sitting around on my ass all day and partying all night, and in fact I'm going to PCU because you encouraged me to do so and are covering my tuition fees.
Nelle: And?
Esme: She walked away.
Nelle: Esme, you handled all of this perfectly!
Esme: I know, but if this is what I'm going to have to put up with every day that I'm there, then I want to drop out!
Nelle: Esme…
Esme: It's not worth it.
*She sobs into her pillow*
Nelle: Esme, I don't think you should rush into making a decision so soon. It's literally only been one day. It's understandable why the students might be difficult to deal with. Many of them are in their first year of college, and for a lot of them it was their first day, so it's not surprising that they would be extremely overwhelmed and use anyone as a scapegoat to deal with their own insecurities. I've seen it many times with the other members of our group.
Esme: I know, but it's different with me. Everybody knows about what I did. Even though it was two years ago, people are still talking about it. The people who are new there probably heard about it from their older siblings. Hell, people will probably still be talking about it ten years from now! Anybody who goes to PCU will know about it. *Sniffle*
Nelle: I still think you should give it a few more days. If you're still feeling like this when the deadline approaches to drop the classes without a penalty, then yes, it would make sense. But until then, I think you should give it a chance. What you told me just now proves that you're stronger than you give yourself credit for.
Esme: Even the strongest people have limits, and if I'm constantly having to put up with being harassed, Ace is going to tell that something's going on with Mommy. And the stress can't be good for the baby.
*Nelle recalls an incident from several years earlier when she was pregnant with Wiley, and Carly had tried to provoke her*
Carly (flashback): Tell me, how crazy does one have to be to spend a year in a mental hospital? How crazy are you now?
Nelle (flashback): What happened to me is none of your business Carly.
Carly (flashback): Well, I disagree because you're carrying my grandchild, and I care about that baby.
Nelle (flashback): Then back off because stress isn't good for the baby!
Carly (flashback): And the baby isn't an all-purpose excuse for you to do whatever the hell you want. And it's clear from your behavior since you came to Port Charles that you are volatile, and your judgement is very questionable. It's not really "mommy material," you know?
*Tears begin streaming down Nelle's face*
Nelle (flashback): So what, you're going to take me to court and try to prove that I'm an unfit mother?
Carly (flashback): *Laughs* No! God no! But you know, if Michael were to think that you were a danger to-
*Nelle reaches out her hand to slap Carly across the face, but Carly manages to stop her before she does*
Carly (flashback): Oh! *Laughing* Oh, wow! That was not good. Oh no.
*She releases Nelle's arm*
Carly (flashback): You shouldn't have done that.
Nelle (present day): Well, it's up to you. I'll support you in whatever decision you make. If you feel the stress is too much, then perhaps for the baby's sake it would make sense to drop the classes. At the same time though, you shouldn't isolate yourself, because if you do, you're letting these people win. You're better than them, Esme! I've seen it.
*Esme hugs Nelle*
Esme: I hope you're right.
Spencer and Trina were on the flight to France. The pilot announced that they had reached the maximum cruising altitude. Trina was sitting in the seat by the window and was eagerly looking out, while Spencer sat in the middle seat, looking at the ground, his mind seemingly stuck in between the past and the present. Even though he knew he was on a plane to Paris and Trina was sitting next to him, the memory of Esme was still playing repeatedly in his head. From what Kevin made it sound like, there was nothing he could do except wait for it to stop.
Spencer: Why did I take that pill?
Trina: Because you were hoping it would help you remember, and it did.
Spencer: Why didn't you stop me from taking it?
Trina: I wasn't with you when you took it. Nor did I know you even managed to get one.
Spencer: Where was I when I took it?
Trina: You were at Laura and Kevin's penthouse. And Kevin told me you would likely have some trouble remembering more recent stuff.
*He looks at Trina*
Spencer: I'm surprised you're not more upset at me than you are.
Trina: Well I'm not happy that you took it, but I understand why you did. But let's not talk about it now when we're on a plane.
Spencer: Okay. I'm sorry.
*He looks away from Trina and goes back to staring at the ground. After a few minutes, a flight attendant comes to their row and asks if they wanted anything to drink.*
Flight attendant: Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Juice? Tea?
Woman in aisle seat: Water please.
Flight attendant: Water it is.
*She turns to Spencer*
Flight attendant: How about you?
*Spencer continues to stare at the ground.*
Flight attendant: I'll come back to you.
*She turns to Trina*
Flight attendant: How about you? Anything to drink?
Trina: Green tea please.
Flight attendant: You got it.
*She turns back to Spencer*
Flight attendant: Are you sure you don't want anything?
*Trina nudges him*
Trina: Do you want anything to drink Spencer?
Spencer: Whatever she's having.
Flight attendant: Umm, you're going to have to be a little more specific as to whom you're referring to.
*He looks first to the woman sitting in the aisle seat, then at Trina*
Trina: I'm having tea.
Spencer: I'll have a water, I guess.
Flight attendant: Are you okay? Do you need anything in addition to water?
Spencer: I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind, and I have a headache that won't go away.
Flight attendant: That's understandable. I can get you a pillow if you'd like to lay your head back, and an eye mask.
Spencer: Okay.
Flight attendant: Great, I'll be back in a little bit.
*The flight attendant moves on to the next row*
Spencer: I'm so sorry Trina. I shouldn't have taken that pill, especially not so soon before we left.
Trina: You shouldn't have, but I understand why you did.
Spencer: I just feel like I'm not as present as I should be. Like, I know I'm on a plane to France, and I know you're sitting next to me, and-
Trina: And that's all that matters right now. You accompanying me to France to help me get settled in at the Sorbonne means everything to me.
*She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. He looks up and gazes into her beautiful dark brown eyes.*
EIGHT HOURS LATER
*Warrington knocks on the door and enters Dr. Cabot's office.*
Warrington: Doctor, I have been informed that Spencer Cassadine and Trina Robinson's flight has landed in Paris, and the two of them are en route to their hotel.
Dr. Cabot: Excellent!
*Warrington stands there for several seconds.*
Warrington: So…what happens now?
Dr. Cabot: Nothing.
Warrington: What do you mean, nothing?
Dr. Cabot: I mean exactly that. Nothing. We are to stand by and await the next instructions from Brennan, which I don't expect to receive until tomorrow night.
Warrington: With all due respect, sir, wouldn't it make more sense to pick them up now, while they're at their hotel?
Dr. Cabot: No, it wouldn't. We'd need to make last-minute arrangements for transport from the hotel to our facility. Besides, the two of them must be extremely jetlagged from their long journey.
Warrington: All the more reason to pick them up from the hotel.
Dr. Cabot: Like I said, arrangements would have to be made, one of which would be to have Betty Rutherford deliver Spencer's "gift" to their hotel room, as opposed to where he was planning on presenting it to Trina. Seeing how Spencer has been advised by Dr. Collins not to drink any alcohol until the mnemeophrine is completely out of his system, I'm sure he's not going touch the bottle of champagne waiting for them in their room, as tempting as it may be. Trina will make sure of it.
*Spencer and Trina arrive at their hotel in Paris and are escorted to their room.*
Trina: *Looks around* Wow! I thought nothing could get nicer than our hotel room in New York, but this? We're literally on the Siene! Spencer, it's incredible!
Spencer: I know.
Trina: Spencer, you haven't even looked out the window!
Spencer: It's hard for me to look at anything for more than a few seconds right now.
Trina: Oh no! Do you still have a headache?
Spencer: A little bit. It's getting better, and I think it will be gone by tomorrow. But that damn memory keeps playing over and over and over again in my head! I'd give anything to make it stop!
*He looks over at the bottle of champagne*
Spencer: Unless…
Trina: Spencer, no.
Spencer: Why not have a champagne toast?
Trina: I don't think that's a good idea right now. It's not that I don't want to, but Kevin told you not to have any alcohol until you're sure that drug is out of your system.
Spencer: *Sigh* You're right.
*He collapses onto the bed, and Trina collapses next to him*
Spencer: Why did I take that damn pill?
Trina: Because you felt like you had something important that you were trying to remember, and it turns out you were right!
Spencer: I know, but I should have gone to Kevin! He would've been able to help me.
Trina: Why didn't you?
*Spencer closes his eyes and immediately sees Esme lying next to him, which makes him open his eyes again.*
Spencer: I guess it was because I felt maybe it would be awkward for Kevin to have to help his niece's ex-boyfriend remember all the unpleasant stuff about the last time they…you know what I mean. This is why psychiatrists and psychologists don't treat their relatives, or their relatives' significant others. It would have been a conflict of interest. If anybody needs Kevin's help, it's Esme.
Trina: I don't think Esme can be helped. I feel sorry that she had to grow up with a horrible adoptive family only to find out that both of her biological parents are serial killers, but that's the extent of it. She's a horrible person and I hate myself for feeling like I might be able to forgive the disgusting things she did!
Spencer: She's a disgusting person, and I am disgusted with myself that I allowed myself to be seduced by her after everything she did. I remember when we were arguing afterwards, and she brought up how I found a bunch of letters from her former nanny in a shoebox in her closet. The reason why I was going through her shoeboxes in the first place was because I knew that she most likely was hiding the drugs that she slipped into your drink in one of them. So the fact that I allowed myself to fall for her crap again knowing everything she did is just…ugh!
Trina: Spencer, I don't want to talk about Esme anymore.
Spencer: I don't want to think about Esme anymore.
Trina: Then don't.
Spencer: How?
*She pulls him into a kiss, and somehow, his recurring memory of Esme stops.*
Trina: That's how.
*He looks into her eyes, then kisses her again, feeling hopeful that he'd be able to have a nice time with her in Paris after all.*
THE NEXT DAY
Esme, despite wanting to drop her classes, nonetheless decided to take Nelle's advice and try to not rush into a decision, and instead wait until it was closer to the deadline. She hated her creative writing class even more than she did the first day. For their homework assignment at the end of the first day, the instructor had them each write mission statements for what they were hoping to get out of the class, which Esme found odd. She felt if anyone would have instructed them to write mission statements, it would've been her psychology professor, but she nonetheless did the assignment, following the unnecessarily strict guidelines that the instructor gave them while trying to be as creative as possible.
She had written about how her mind would often go to dark places, and in the past, she had acted on her darkest thoughts and was looking for a healthy way to express them, which would, in turn, make her a healthier, better person. She ended up feeling proud of it when she submitted it, but the instructor told her (along with the rest of the students) that they had missed the point of the assignment entirely and explained that the assignment was to take the sample mission statement that they had been given and re-write it using the most "creative" language possible, which wasn't at all what she had said at the end of the previous lesson. The instructor then showed them an example of what the "proper" way the mission statement should look like, which Esme felt was so excessively verbose that it was nearly impossible to read.
On the way out, the instructor told Esme that if she was looking for ways on how to understand and change her behavior, she should take a psychology class, which Esme thought was ironic considering that was where she was headed next. However, it wasn't all bad, as while she was walking through the halls with the rest of her classmates before they all split up and headed off to their next classes, she vented that perhaps the instructor had gotten "creative" confused with "colorful" and had she known that this was what the instructor had wanted them to do, she would've taken the sample mission statement and re-written it using as many swearwords and other offensive language possible, including not so subtle jabs at the instructor. This made several people laugh, which made Esme feel slightly better. Maybe she wasn't their favorite person, but perhaps they didn't hate her as much as she thought they did, or were open to the idea that people could change their ways.
She enjoyed her psychology class just as much as she did on the first day, if not even more. In addition to doing the main assignment the professor had given them, which was to read a chapter from the textbook and answer some questions, she had earned extra credit by writing her thoughts about whether or not people were destined to turn out the way their parents did and struggled with the same things their parents struggled with even if they were raised away from them. Esme had a lot to say on the subject and used it as an opportunity to share snippets of her story and to vent. The instructor liked what she had written so much, he asked if he could use it as a guide for future students. Esme agreed as long as everyone's names were changed, which the instructor told her he would have done anyway. But what made her happiest was that Snooty Girl was not there today, and Esme assumed (and hoped) that due to how much she had complained about the class, she decided to drop it.
After class, she was making her way through the halls towards the exit when she heard footsteps running towards her. She looked at the person. It was the creepy guy whom she encountered the previous day.
Creepy guy: Hey!
*She begins to run, trying to get away from him, but he catches up to and walks beside her.*
Esme: *Sighs and rolls her eyes* What do you want?
Creepy guy: Look, I'm sorry about what happened earlier, okay? Maybe we can start afresh?
*She remembers all the times no one would give her a second chance, then takes a deep breath and nods*
Esme: *Sigh* Okay.
Creepy guy: Those comments I made about, well, I shouldn't have said them. I acted out of line. You don't actually seem like a bad person.
Esme: Most people wouldn't agree with you.
Creepy guy: If it makes you feel better, I was once in the slammer too, so I know how it is.
Esme: *She stops walking, turns to face him, and raises an eyebrow* You were? What for?
Creepy guy: Drugs, as well as stealing my dad's car. I did time both in jail and the mental hospital.
Esme: Oh. Well, I did worse than you. In addition to the stuff you know about, I stalked my ex-boyfriend's stepmother, sent her a bunch of creepy gifts, and set her car on fire. But my father was making me do all of those things. I was ignoring the very obvious signs that he was taking advantage of me because I was desperate for his approval. But after I lost my memory, I saw him for who he was.
Creepy guy: And who was he?
Esme: Ryan Chamberlain the serial killer.
Creepy guy: Really? Wow, that's hella bada- *clears throat* bad.
Esme: What, you think it's cool that I have a serial killer for a father, who made me do all those horrible things?
Creepy guy: No, no. Drugging somebody definitely isn't good, except...nevermind.
Esme: What?
Creepy guy: Let's just say that I've been a complete wreck after I broke up with my girlfriend. I stole a bunch of stuff and sold it for drugs, and did time for both of those. Then I stole my dad's car and, well, that was the reason why I ended up in the mental hospital. Trust me, you don't want to go to the mental hospital! If you're sent for an involuntary 72-hour hold, you'll be lucky to survive. When people hear about mental hospitals, they picture a place where everybody is in a straitjacket in a cushy padded cell. It's not. It's quite the opposite actually.
Esme: Yeah, I interned in one before. I know what they're like.
*She recalls her brief internship at Spring Ridge, which she had gotten for the sole purpose of being able to more easily visit Ryan, before Kevin found out and had her internship terminated.*
Creepy guy: Did you have to restrain anyone? Like physically?
Esme: I only worked with one patient, so no.
Creepy guy: From what you're describing, it doesn't sound like the place where you were interning was the same place where I was sent. This was the county psychiatric ER. No padded cells, no solitary confinements, no clean beds even. Just a place with a bunch of crazy people running around, thinking everybody in the room is going to kill them. I watched the entire staff having to restrain this one young woman who misinterpreted a friendly smile as a death threat. Literally the entire staff had to restrain her, and they were just making everything worse.
Sorry, I'm probably sharing too much. But trust me, you don't want to go there, either as a worker or as a patient!
Esme was reminded somewhat of Ian by the way he was telling about his past, but this creep had none of the mysterious qualities that Ian had that made her want to get to know him. While "Slade" initially made her uncomfortable by staring at her when she walked into the bar, she ended up feeling better about herself after talking to him. Plus, despite him being rather disheveled when she first encountered him, she thought he was very attractive, and even more so when she saw him perform with his band, and now that she knew that Slade was actually Ian Slater, the grandson of Pine Valley's famous socialite Erica Kane, she was reminded somewhat of Aragorn from Lord of the Rings.
But this guy had none of those traits. While he looked younger than Nikolas, she could tell he was several years older than her. His brown hair was very messy. It looked like he either really needed a haircut or was in the process of growing his hair out, but it was still too short to put back in a ponytail, and judging by his high hairline with a prominent widow's peak, it looked like he was in the early stages of going bald. His face was scruffy, and while she thought some men looked good with stubble, it did not suit him. But what creeped her out the most was his eyes. They had the same intense stare as Jason's, and were magnified by his thick glasses. She remembered Spencer wore similar glasses when they first met and she thought they made him look goofy, but he had switched to contact lenses by the time they officially began dating.
Esme: Believe me, I have no intention of going to any mental facility in any capacity ever again. And if you think venting to me about all your problems is going to impress me, well, it isn't.
Creepy guy: Okay, I'm sorry. Why don't we start afresh...again. Hello, my name is Richard Thomas Smith.
Esme: Okay, Richard Thomas Smith, well I'm-
Richard Thomas Smith: Oh I already know your name. It's Esme Prince!
Esme: I was about to say that I'm even less impressed by your lack of respect for people's privacy, even your own. Not only did you just tell me a bunch of sensitive information, but now that I know your full name, I can easily use all this information to take advantage of you.
Richard Thomas Smith: I know, and that doesn't bother me at all.
Esme: Clearly it doesn't, but it bothers me! And what bothers me even more is that you're so fascinated with not only all the horrible things I've done, but by the fact that my father is a notorious serial killer! It's not something I'm proud of. I did not choose that man to be my father, and I regret how I allowed him to take advantage of me! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get home.
*She begins to walk away from him.*
Richard Thomas Smith: *Tries to follow her* I can give you a ride!
Esme: *Hastens her pace* I've already got a rideshare!
She runs away from him and makes her way to the parking lot, where she is relieved to see that the rideshare driver is already waiting. She gets into the car.*
Driver: You're in a hurry! Is everything okay?
Esme: It will be once I get the hell out of here! Though once we're away from the campus, please take the long way to the pier so that the launch will already be there when you drop me off. I'll pay whatever extra money you want.
Driver: You got it.
*The driver starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot as Esme texts Nelle*
Esme (texting): HELP! That creepy guy I was telling you about is making me very uncomfortable, and I think he's trying to find out where I live! Please tell the launch pilot to get to the pier ASAP!
Nelle (texting back): Oh no! Of course, I'll let him know right away.
Esme: Thank you!
One nauseating boat ride later, Esme entered the mansion though the front doors and made her way to the main living room, where Nelle was waiting for her, and collapsed into Nelle's arms. She recalled one year earlier, shortly after her water had broken, running through those very same doors and collapsing into Laura's arms while trying to get away from Ryan. Nelle could feel Esme's pounding heartbeat.
Nelle: Are you alright?
Esme: Yes. No. I don't know.
Nelle: Why don't you lie down.
*Esme lies down on one of the couches, located in the same spot in the living room where the couch on which she had given birth to Ace had been when she lived there previously*
Esme: I don't know if I can keep doing this. I suppose I deserve it after everything I've done!
Nelle: No you don't! Please don't ever think that!
Esme: Why not? I drugged Trina and violated Joss and Cam's privacy. It makes sense why this Richard Thomas Smith guy would violate me!
Nelle: Esme, you've come a long way from the person you were when you did those things. You know that what you did was wrong. But that doesn't mean you deserve those same things being done to you.
Esme: Why not though? Just the other day you were telling me and everyone else about karma. I suppose this is karma catching up to me.
*Nelle sits down on the other couch*
Nelle: What exactly happened with this…what did you say this guy's name was?
Esme: Richard Thomas Smith.
Nelle: What did Richard Thomas Smith do that made you feel unsafe?
Esme: Well, he started by apologizing for taunting me about all the horrible things I did, and said he could relate, because he had made his own share of bad choices, which at first was reassuring, I guess. But after I told him who my father was, he seemed to think it was cool, even though he tried to backtrack. He told me it was wrong that my father made me do all the things I did. Then he told me about all of the things he did, and went on this long tangent about going both to jail and the psychiatric ER. What bothered me was how casually he was talking about it, like it wasn't a big deal to him.
Even though he knows about the horrible things I did, at the end of the day, he doesn't know me, and if I were in his shoes, I wouldn't be sharing all this sensitive information. He has no respect for his own privacy, and no sense of shame for what sounds like some pretty awful choices, since he seemed to be trying to impress me by sharing all of it. But it was when he tried to get me to agree to let him give me a ride home that I got scared, hence my urgent message. I told the driver to take the long way to the pier so the launch would already be there, in case he tried to follow me. I don't think I can do this Nelle!
Nelle: Do what?
Esme: I can't go to PCU with him there! Normally if he tried anything with me, I wouldn't hesitate to kick his ass, since I've taken self-defense classes as well as gotten into fights with guys who are much bigger than me and even him, including that night at the Highsider. But I can't do that when I'm pregnant!
Nelle: No, you can't. And you won't.
Esme: You have no way of knowing that!
Nelle: It's true that no one is fully capable of knowing everything, but I know how to make it so he can't find out where you live.
Esme: How? Even though this house is on an island, I have to wait at the pier for the launch to arrive.
Nelle: I can tell the launch guy to get to the pier earlier and have him wait for you there, and tell him not to let anyone else get on board without first clearing it with both me and you.
Esme: I suppose that would help me feel more comfortable. But I know there's a way onto the island through the catacombs.
Nelle: Not if I have the entrance sealed off. I want to make this island and the mansion as safe as possible for everyone.
Esme: Okay, I guess that would work.
Nelle: If he continues to do things that make you feel uncomfortable, please let me know.
Esme: I will. And thank you.
Nelle: You don't need to thank me. This is all part of our trust. You've trusted me to keep you safe, as well as Ace and your new baby. I wouldn't be honoring that trust if I didn't do this.
Esme: I know, and of course I trust you. I'm just glad I have the day off tomorrow. I know you want me to be less isolated, but right now all I want to do is disappear.
Nelle: I know the feeling all too well.
*The two of them hug*
THE NEXT DAY
Spencer woke up feeling completely back to his old self. His headache was gone, and along with it, any lingering feelings for Esme, although he was not looking forward to what he was going to have to do regarding Ace. However, it felt good knowing he had Trina's full support. She understood now that Spencer didn't care one way or the other whether or not he was Ace's father, and simply wanted to give him a better life. She remembered what her dad had said about having respect for a man who wanted to step up and be a dad to a kid who wasn't his biological child. She hoped, in time, Taggert would understand that Spencer was doing just that.
They spent the day sightseeing in Paris. That evening, Spencer told Trina he had a surprise for her. She took his hand and he led the way, unaware of the figure with long, dark hair following behind them.
*Spencer escorts a blindfolded Trina on board a luxury yacht*
Spencer: One last step, there you go. Are you alright?
Trina: Yeah. *Laughs* Where are we?
Spencer: I'll tell you, just one sec. You okay?
Trina: Mm hmm.
Spencer: Okay.
*He removes the blindfold*
Spencer: Welcome aboard!
*She gazes in awe. They are on the banks of the river Seine*
Trina: Spencer! What is all this?
Spencer: I've arranged a private getaway for you. I figured that you should have a chance to see the countryside before you have to start hitting the books.
Trina: I can't believe you did this!
Spencer: You and I are going to go on a private cruise. We're going to travel down the Seine to Normandy. I had the hotel bring all our things. We're going to have a nice romantic dinner, and tomorrow, you're going to wake up on the most beautiful coast you've ever seen.
Trina: It's hard to imagine anything more spectacular than this!
Spencer: I'm sure we'll figure out a way.
*While they are talking, the long-haired woman sneaks on board and makes her way to the dining room, where the bottle of wine that Spencer had ordered waited for them in the center of the table. Betty reaches into her bag, pulls out the bottle that Brennan had given her, and swaps it with the bottle of wine. Then, she quietly sneaks away.*
Meanwhile, Warrington made his way to Dr. Cabot's office once again.
Dr. Cabot: Yes?
Warrington: It is done.
Dr. Cabot: Excellent! Tell the men to start preparing the transport.
Warrington: Righto.
*He turns to leave*
Dr. Cabot: Hold on a minute. Did Brennan say whether or not Betty Rutherford is still aboard the yacht?
Warrington: Yes.
Dr. Cabot: Yes meaning he said where she was, or yes meaning she's still aboard?
Warrington: Oh, then yes, he said she was able to leave the yacht without being seen.
*Dr. Cabot's expression changes from triumphant to panicked!*
Warrington: What is it, sir?
Dr. Cabot: She was supposed to stay aboard!
Warrington: I was not aware of this, sir.
Dr. Cabot: Didn't Brennan mention this?
Warrington: No, sir, he did not.
Dr. Cabot: We may have a major problem on our hands!
Spencer and Trina were sitting at the table enjoying their dinner. Spencer had told her the story of how, when he was a young child, he and Nikolas had gone to a restaurant and Spencer asked if they could order caviar. Nikolas said no, and Spencer begged him to let him try it at home. Nikolas eventually gave in. Spencer loved it, unaware that he was actually eating black beans. Spencer felt like he was ruining the night by telling Trina his stories, but Trina assured him that she wanted to hear them, and encouraged him to share his troubles, because that's what couples do.
Spencer: I'm still getting used to being in a healthy relationship after…you know.
Trina: Yes, I do.
Spencer: So we are a couple?
Trina: Of course we are. I love you.
*Spencer kisses her hand*
Spencer: And I love you.
*Trina notices the bottle of wine*
Trina: What's this?
Spencer: That is a bottle of the finest authentic French wine, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Grand Cru 1945. Good year!
Trina: Spencer! That must've cost a fortune!
Spencer: It is nothing compared to you, Trina. Special wine, for a special occasion, for a very special girl!
*Trina looks lovingly at Spencer. He uncorks the bottle and pours it into their glasses. Spencer holds up his glass for a toast*
Spencer: To you, Trina Robinson!
Trina: No. To us!
Spencer: To us!
*They clink their glasses. Spencer clears his throat as Trina takes a sip.*
Trina: This is so sweet!
Spencer: I'm glad you like it.
Trina: No the wine. It's sweet. Very sweet. It tastes like…grape juice!
*Spencer takes a sip from his glass*
Spencer: Wow…it really does taste like grape juice! It doesn't taste like wine at all.
*He takes another, longer sip.*
Spencer: It is grape juice!
Trina: It's just as well. I know you probably have the drug out of your system, but it's probably best to wait a few more days before having alcohol. I'm sure both my mom and Kevin would agree.
Spencer: You're probably right.
*He tries hard to hide his anger at being ripped off as to not spoil the occasion*
Trina: Honestly it doesn't bother me. It's probably for the best that I don't have any alcohol right now either. We can still drink to the occasion even if it isn't wine. It literally is very sweet. Just like you.
Spencer: No. It's sweet like you!
*They kiss*
Dr. Cabot and Warrington were standing beside a helicopter, waiting for the workers to finish their safety inspection. He was growing increasingly worried, and increasingly irritable.
Dr. Cabot: Hurry up and get the chopper ready! We need to get there fast! It's an emergency!
Worker: Sir, we need to do all the safety checks before we can take off!
Dr. Cabot: I DON'T CARE! WE MUST LEAVE! NOW!
*The worker reluctantly motions for Cabot to get in the helicopter. They take off*
Dr. Cabot: FASTER!
Helicopter pilot: This is as fast as we can fly safely! It's important considering what we're doing!
*Cabot sighs and buries his face in his hand, trying to hide the panicked expression on his face*
*Spencer and Trina are standing on the deck, leaning against the railing as they gaze upon the water, taking everything in*
Spencer: The Olympics are going to take place here later this year. Did you know that?
Trina: Yes.
Spencer: Wouldn't it be great if we could see it together?
Trina: Absolutely!
Spencer: You know, I've been to Paris many times, but this feels different. I've always been too stressed from school and too angry with my father that I've never taken time to appreciate it all.
Trina: I know, it's beautiful.
Spencer: Just like you.
*They lean in for a kiss but a wave of sleepiness takes over*
Spencer: I think we should...go somewhere...a little more…comfortable…
Trina: Yes…we should…
*Trina turns around and makes for the bedroom but passes out and collapses onto the deck, while Spencer falls over the side of the boat and disappears into the water*