CHAPTER SIXTEEN "I'm bored," Jillian announced. "Bored." "Six-year-olds don't get bored," Jamie countered, not looking up from his paper. The account of the deaths of Edward and Lila Quartermaine was emblazoned across the front page. Beside it was a picture of Ned Ashton, CEO, dimples and all. Jamie looked up to see Jillian flashing an identical set, then returned to the article. "I'm not six," Jillie scrambled into his lap and seeing the article, pointed out, "There's that man with dimples like mine. What's he doing in the paper?" "His grandparents died," Jamie answered without thinking. "That's sad," Jillian commented. "But do you think you should talk about dying and stuff like that with me? I'm just so little that I might not understand." Jamie shook his head. "Oh, you understand, squirt. You understand far more than you let on." "Figured me out?" "I'm working on it. But, at the moment, I'm more concerned with keeping you safe like your mom asked. Which means that sometimes you have put up with being bored." "But I want to go outside. I want to play." She sulked. "Bet nobody ever made you stay inside." "They did," and more recently than you would think, he added, mentally. "But I learned a game to make the time pass more quickly." "Oh?" "It's called 'What if?' When you can't go where you want to go, or do what you want to do, you close your eyes and imagine a place where you've been before, or where you'd like to go. Then, you start adding to it until it seems real." "Can I add anything that I want?" "Anything and anybody." "Even Mom?" "Especially your Mom," Jamie encouraged. "Is Mom in bad trouble?" Jillian asked. "What makes you ask?" "You're thinking bad thoughts." "How do you know?" "You get these funny lines between your eyebrows like Mom does." Jillie looked down at the paper again, and said, "I'm going to play 'what if?' and I'm going to take him with me." She pointed at Ned's picture. "He must be very sad. His little girl is far, far away, and his grandparents are, too." "Don't go getting any ideas," Jamie told her carefully. "You know the rules." "I know," she sighed. "But I don't know why." Just then, there came a knock at the door. "Go into your bedroom," Jamie ordered. "But." "But nothing," Jamie had ordered nothing and was expecting no one. Jillian scurried off to hide. Approaching the door, Jamie asked, "Who's there?" "Sean Donely. Open up, Jamie. We need to talk." Alan looked at the article on his parents and once more, his stomach roiled. Nothing was right--and nothing had been right for the longest time. Now it was worse. There were things left unsaid, things that he could never say, that he desperately needed to say. He looked at the portrait of his parents, the one that would be at the memorial service later that day, and felt the heat of unshed tears rising within him. "I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly to the painting. "I tried to be what you wanted me to be, but I had to be what I am. It's all I can be, all I could ever be. I didn't have the business sense that you had-but I'm a damned good doctor. You could have been proud of me..." Tears coursing down his face, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his painkillers. "Now watch," whispered Emily to Monica as they both watched him from the doorway. Monica watched as Alan dumped several of the painkillers into the palm of his hand, and then lifted them to his mouth. "I had no idea." "We've got to help him," Emily told Monica. "He's hurting." "Okay," Monica said. "After today's memorial service, we'll leave town. Don't worry-I'll handle everything." "You think it'll be okay?" "It'll have to be." "Reggie!!" "Mr. Ashton?" "We have guests," Ned observed as he stood in the foyer of the Quartermaine mansion. "Answer the damned door." Scowling, Reggie did as ordered. "Hello Ned," Tracy greeted as she sailed past Reggie who gave a long suffering sigh. "Mother and Dylan." It was an observation, not a greeting. "We're here for the funeral and the reading of the will." Her voice was brusque, but there was something in her eyes that tore at Ned's heart, in spite of what he knew his mother to be. "Did Daddy say....anything?" "Only 'Lila, my darling.'" Tracy nodded, and blinked. "Reginald, take Dylan." Reggie, reminding himself that the child was Lila's grandson, nodded. "Come on, Mr. Dylan." "It's Quartermaine," Dylan announced. "Mom said that it was the only name worth having." "I see." Tracy went into the study that Alan had vacated, and closed the door. Then, she turned to the portrait of her parents, and stared at it for a long, silent moment. "Mother, Daddy-I'm home. Why aren't you here?" Her voice cracked, and she sobbed brokenly. "There were things that I needed to say to you, things that I still need you to say to me. Mother, I know that you loved me, but Daddy, why wasn't I enough? I was stronger than Alan-I still am. But you pushed me away-like I wasn't.....yours. Daddy, did you ever love me?" The service was small-family and close friends only, and held in the chapel at General Hospital, as the Quartermaines had wished. At Lila's request, all memorials were to go to the hospital. Edward's addendum to that request was that any money was to be invested by the ELQ advisors so as to insure an excellent return on the funds. That brought a smile to an otherwise sober group. And then, it was over. Almost before it had started, the service was over, and the mourners filed out of the chapel, tears rolling down their cheeks. "I see I missed the service," Kathryn Bell observed as she met Ned as he left the chapel. "Perhaps I might attend the graveside service?" "There won't be one," Ned answered curtly. "Even if there was, you wouldn't be invited. Friends and family only, and you don't qualify." "I was family, and I was friends with your grandfather." Ned laughed humorlessly. "Kat, your audacity is only surpassed by your stupidity. Grandfather admired your ability as a spin doctor. He didn't like you. Why would he like someone that blackmailed her way into the family? You had your uses, Kat, and now they're over. Go away." Kat looked at Ned, and for a moment, wondered what had become of the man she'd married, however briefly. "You're a cruel man, Ned. No wonder Lois left you." Ned smiled at her. "Sour grapes, Kathryn?" She turned on her heel and walked away, Ned's laughter echoing in her ears. Julian was right, but apparently he wasn't going to need her help after all. Things seemed to be progressing very nicely in Port Charles without her.