Our Lives [Drama]

Anthony Hendrick really didn't want to die.

It was only too bad that such a thing was inconsequential now, seeing as how his earthly remains were now resting in a coffin six feet underground, right below a handsome headstone that marked for eternity the fact that he was a good husband and father, a loving son, the best brother, a respectable man and a brilliant doctor. He didn't know how he felt about the doctor part being the last item to be listed on the granite, but there was nothing to be done about that now. The best brother' thing, though, he had to admit, had come as a pleasant surprise.

But being dead didn't sit well with Anthony Hendrick. So he decided, quite simply, to go back.

He had made peace with his family at the time of his death: he knew how his father loved and respected the man he had grown to be, no matter their disagreements; he knew that he was the love of his wife's life, far better than that adulterous, home-wrecking slimy toad Richard Perkins and that was good enough for him; he knew that Alana knew he loved her like his own daughter; that Emily knew how proud he was of her; and that he and his sister Ashley were on good terms. Still, there was one person he hadn't had a chance to speak to, and that was what kept him restless until he decided to go do something about it.

As it was, his son wasn't doing so well, either. When Anthony entered the penthouse, he saw Jacob dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt that he hadn't changed for three days. His girlfriend Samantha wasn't around he found that odd, especially after he had gone out of his way to help the former convict by giving her a job when any respectably institution would have laughed in her face and shown her the door and so the penthouse was entirely empty.

Jacob staggered down from the second floor, roughly rubbing the stubble on his jaw. Anthony sighed when he saw his boy, disheveled and alone, and never had he wanted more to renew his attempts to reach out to him.

"I didn't think it would hit you so hard," he murmured, watching Jacob wander wearily over to the wet bar and stare aimlessly at its contents. "The last time we got along..."

But he didn't want to finish that sentence and instead just watched his son as he selected an unopened bottle of tequila and pulled it out. He ripped off the label in one easy motion and crumpled it into a ball, concentrating on working the paper into the smallest ball he could.

"Don't drink that, Jacob," he heard himself warn his son in the same voice he had used when Jacob had been little and getting into his briefcase. "Don't you dare get drunk do you hear me? Not after what happened to your brother. I haven't touched the stuff in years, I'll tell you that much, and you'd better not get drunk tonight."

But Jacob just moved through him and over to the couch, the bottle clenched tightly in his hand. He set it down on the table and stared at it for a long moment before lowering himself down onto the sofa.

"I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised at your reaction, hm?" he asked, moving over to the single armchair across from his son. He settled down and loosened the tie he wore; it had been cinched too tightly when he'd been buried.

"We haven't gotten along in so many years. And it just seemed like our rift was worsening, deepeninguntil I could barely see you at the other side." He sighed heavily, folding his hands in his lap. "I blamed you for Johnny's death. I'm sorry I did that. You've protected that child with your life since he was born. I might not have agreed with your choices regarding my grandson, but I could never say that you didn't protect him with everything you had in you."

Jacob let out a heavy sigh and shifted enough to kick off his boots. They hit the carpet with a thud and he lifted his legs wearily onto the couch, shifting and wriggling until he had settled down into a semi-comfortable position.

Anthony watched him and waited until he quieted down. "I blamed you for leaving me. I blamed you for the danger you put yourself in. Imagine that you were a doctor's son, about to be a doctor yourself and yet there you were, putting your life on the line every single day, certainly not for any good reason that I could come up with. And you only wore your safety vest on the most extreme of occasions, didn't you? Not very smart, Jacob."

His son let out a half-groan and twisted on the couch until he was on his side, now staring at the bottle of tequila. After a long moment, he picked it up and held it between his hands, waiting as the coolness of the glass seeped into his warm hands.

"I don't know how you drink that stuff," Anthony groused. "It tastes terrible. Monica used to like hers with soda now that's poison, if there ever was such a thing. I preferred brandy myself. Or a nice single malt, but only on rare occasions. But it's been so long since I had any of that."

He tilted his head to the side, watching as his son toyed with the bottle. "You don't need that, Jacob. It won't make you feel better only worse, much worse."

A short pause and then, "What is it that you feel so guilty about, son? What do you feel bad about that you're sitting here, a week after my funeral, contemplating drinking yourself stupid?

"Are you guilty that you couldn't see me before I passed? That's all right, you know." He smiled softly, watching as Jacob laid the sealed bottle on his chest and stared up at the ceiling. "I don't blame you. I know that whatever it was, it had to be important. Or maybe you were hurt yourself after all, you did break into the Metrocourt to try to save us all, didn't you?"

The former doctor leaned back in his seat, tenting his fingers. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I wasn't feeling my best. But I knew I'd make it. I told Emily over and over to pick Elizabeth to get her and her baby out of the line of fire because I knew I'd make it. I wasn't so sure about Elizabeth. She was having terrible cramps, and she's only five months along. That wasn't a good sign at all. But I hear that she and the baby are fine, which is very good news. She and her husband Lance have much to be thankful for."

Jacob muttered something under his breath and flung his arm over his eyes, burrowing down further into the pillows.

"I'm most sorry that you had to see me like that, though," Anthony continued. "The way I was raised the way your grandfather raised me men didn't show their weakness to their sons. It was bad enough if they showed it to their wives, it was acceptable if they were tender with their daughters, but their sons? Never. Sons learned how to grow up strong and tough from their fathers. Who else would teach them that? And when you had to take my arm and help me to the doorif my heart hadn't already been in such terrible shape, it would have broken just then."

He smiled softly, looking down at his hands. "You didn't know I knew, but I did. I knew the minute you stepped into the lobby. A parent always knows, Jacob, and if you're Lance enough to be a parent one day, you'll find that I'm quite right. A parent always knows. Besides, one only had to get a good look at you I could spot those blue eyes of yours anywhere. And I knew the minute you stepped into the lobby that things would be okay for everyone else that you'd sacrifice yourself to keep the others safe.

"So you needn't feel guilty, son. You may not have been there during my eleventh hour, but you were there when I think I needed you most. Facing the thought of walking out, of leaving everyone else in the lobby possibly to dieit was impossible. You feel like a traitor. You feel like the worst sorry excuse of a human being when you have to walk away and turn your back on those in danger of losing their own lives. As a doctor, I could never live with something like that. That was partly why I didn't want Emily to pick me. Elizabeth, if she had been chosen, I don't think it would have hit her so hard. She wouldn't have been leaving to save herself she would have been leaving to save that child. It's a part of her and it comes first, no matter what. Everything she does has to be geared toward the well-being of the life inside of her. But me, just picking myself up and leaving my daughter and Robinand the mother of my grandsoneveryone else that I watched grow up like Elizabeth and Lance, leaving all of them behind, the thought was unbearable."

He had to swallow before he could continue. "But you made it so much easier, Jacob. You were such a comfort to me. When I felt you take my arm and take me to the door, it felt as if part of that weight were lifting. I still didn't feel right leaving the Metrocourt but knowing that you were there that you were there to protect Emily and Robin and Elizabeth and her child, and Hannah and Lulu that was such a comfort to me, son. It made what few steps I managed to take easier.

"So if you're feeling guilty about not coming to my bedside, don't. I know how General Hospital makes you uncomfortable. I don't mind, really. But I can't help wondering did you come to me after it happened? Were you there during the funeral? That whole part is rather fuzzy for me I wasn't here for it. I had other things to take care of, you know. The paperwork of the afterlife. Trust me, the paperwork at the hospital was much easier, but boy, how I used to complain about that."

Anthony took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. "I hope you were there for the funeral. Not for me no, not for me. I hope you were there for your mother. She's only got one son left, Jacob, and that's you whether you want to be such or not. I hope you were able to help her through it. She's a strong woman, always trying to be so calm and in controlbut even the strongest women have their breaking points. I just hope you were there to be a comfort to her like you were to me."

Jacob was half-asleep now, the bottle still laying on his chest. Anthony slowly rose from his seat and looked at him for a long moment, then brushed his hand over his son's eyes, closing them. He let out a soft breath, more of a sigh, and reluctantly gave in to slumber under his father's cool touch.

"I'll be back later," Anthony promised.
~*~*~*~*~*~

He wanted to see his grave at night. He hadn't had the chance before, but with little else to do, Anthony found himself in the cemetery standing just a few feet from his own headstone. The moon was full and fell on the granite, illuminating the carefully etched and embellished headstone. Monica hadn't pinched pennies when it came to the marker: it was ornate and heavy and almost as tall as he was.

He walked over to it and put a hand on the cool granite. It was wet from the dew or maybe the sprinklers but he didn't remove his fingers.

"I can see how it would get lonely out here," he murmured to himself, peering through the dense fog.

He had no way of knowing how long he stood there, just staring at his own marker and the land upon which it stood. He'd been buried right next to his son and close to his mother, and that was what he had wanted. There were still several plots left in the family plot enough for the rest of the surviving family. But if anyone got married or had any more children, they'd be on their own. Really, why hadn't he added the purchasing of more graves to his will the last time he met with his attorney? That would have been the intelligent thing to do.

But Jacob probably wouldn't want to be buried with the family, so that freed up one grave. And Deacon was divorced from Lindze, so she wouldn't be joining them. That made two.

These were the morbid thoughts that filtered through his mind as he stood by his gravestone, and Anthony didn't hear the approaching footsteps until the visitor was right behind him. With a start, he turned around to see none other than Elizabeth Webster dressed in a black dress with a black wool coat and white gloves. She blended in easily with the night and came just as softly.

"Elizabeth? What on earth are you doing here?"

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here," she murmured softly, her dark eyes tracing over the lettering etched into the granite. "Honestly, I'm kind of wondering the same thing myself."

He slipped his hands into his pockets and waited, watching the young woman as she troubled her lower lip and appeared to deliberate over whether or not to stay. He hoped she did, and that this wouldn't be the last visit; it was nice to be remembered, even by the most unlikely of people.

Finally, Elizabeth appeared to come to a decision but surprised him by dropping to her knees and sitting on the wet grass of his grave, dwarfed by his imposing headstand. Anthony's dark brows rose and he stared at the grass, wondering whether he wanted to get his pants wet or not. Deciding that he in fact did not, the former doctor lowered himself to the ground but remained crouching on his feet. He could deal with ruining the new shoes Monica had gotten for him, but not a wet spot on his eternally pressed pants.

"I'm really sorry to bother you," she started, toying with her gloves. He noticed that she was no longer wearing her wedding ring. "But I just felt like I had to be here."

"By all means," he shrugged, watching her intently. "I certainly can't complain for the company."

"I was at your funeral," Elizabeth got out hesitantly, stumbling slightly over the words. "I-It was a lovely service. I sat in the third row, two rows behind your family behind Monica and Jacob, actually. I-It really was a lovely service." She cleared her throat and appeared to shiver slightly. "But the whole time I was sitting there, I kept thinking"

Anthony frowned when she trailed off and shook her head. Elizabeth rarely trailed off. He'd gotten to know her fairly well since she'd started working at the hospital and he knew her to be one of few women who spoke her mind and refused to be cowed by others.

He tried to peer at her face but Elizabeth had her chin tucked into her chest and her eyes were hidden under her bangs. Her shoulders were shaking and her fingers trembling, and Anthony could only guess that it was from the cold. She was already wearing a coat, but that didn't stop him from shrugging out of his own suit jacket and gently placing it over her shoulders.

She looked up when he withdrew his hands and tilted her chin, infused with new resolution. But her voice when she spoke still cracked slightly. "I was sitting there, the whole time, staring at the back of Jacob's head and thinking thatthat I had handled it all wrong."

"Yes, well, there's nothing like a funeral to make people reevaluate their life choices," Anthony returned casually.

"I-I did everything wrong," Elizabeth whimpered again, and Anthony realized that she had in fact been sobbing, not shivering. "Everything I just oh, Anthony, I'm so sorry."

"Elizabeth," he murmured, moving closer and hesitantly placing a hand on her shoulder as he wondered what on earth she was apologizing for and why to him, of all people. "Oh, Elizabeth, what's wrong? What did you do? Breathe, sweetheart you're going to start choking."

She sniffled through her tears and turned her eyes up to the stars. "I justthe whole time we were in the Metrocourt"

"So that's what this is about," Anthony muttered, withdrawing his hand and sitting down on the damp grass next to her despite his better judgment. "You can't dwell on that. It's not healthy. Whatever happened, it's over and done with and I hope we learned a lesson from that night namely, how not to deal with robbers."

"When they threw me in that room, I felt like I couldn't breathe," she admitted quietly. "I've been trapped in small, dark places before and itit drives me out of my mind. I can't handle it. But when I heard you breathe, oh, Anthony, you have no idea how relieved I was selfishly. I was glad that you were there with me because then I wasn't alone with my fear. And taking care of you made me focus on someone other than myself it made me think about something other than myself.

"You were in such bad shape," Elizabeth murmured, her voice so soft that Anthony had to strain to hear her. "You were as pale as a sheet and sweating so profuselyyou scared me, Anthony."

"I scared myself, too, there, dear," he attempted to joke.

"When I sat with youyou just got worse. It was the worst feeling. I guess I'm spoiled that way," she laughed quietly, wiping away some of her tears. "When I see someone hurt or in pain or struggling to breathe like you were, I expect myself to be able to fix it. If we had been in Mercy Hospital at that moment, I would have known exactly what you needed and exactly what to do. I would have been able to fix you."

She swallowed roughly and tucked her chin into her chest. "But in that roomthere was nothing. I was just Lance to have that water and washcloth. And I had to make do with that. All I could do was wipe your forehead and take your pulse and pray you didn't drop out in front of me. And the whole time, I wantedI wanted"

Her shoulders shook and she couldn't continue, and Anthony looked down at the young woman with concern. "What? What did you want, Elizabeth?"

"I just wanted to tell you," she whispered, closing her eyes against the overwhelming anguish that seeped through her. "I knew that with those few words, I could give you something to fight for, just like I did for Jacob that night in the chapel. With those few wordsI could keep you with us longer, make you fight just a little harder to live, to stay with us. But I-I couldn't. I just couldn't get them out and I hoped that whatever I was doing, it would be enough until we got you some real help."

"What did you want to tell me? What words?"

Elizabeth took in a deep breath and released it slowly, blinking several times to clear her misty vision. "And then, after everything, when we were on the bridgeGod, I knew it was the wrong time. He was telling me aboutabout losing you and I justI couldn'tI asked him the worst possible thing I could have at the worst possible time. It just came out and then I couldn't take it back and the more I talked about it, the better it sounded until I was just talking on and on, trying to convince him and myself and hearing these words just come out of my mouth, but they sounded so hollow and I didn't know how"

She shook her head and Anthony moved closer. "After lying for so long, how can you tell if you're even telling yourself the truth anymore?"

At this point, he was completely lost. So Anthony decided to just sit quietly and wait and hope that Elizabeth talked herself in circles long enough to actually fill in the blanks for him. What was she lying about? What did any of it have to do with Jacob?

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," she whimpered, covering her eyes with her hand and rocking back and forth. "It wasn't supposed to be this way at all. HeHe doesn't want to be a part of my life anymore he says he won't think of this baby as"

But it was too much and she had to sit in silence for a long moment before her voice came back. "And I'm stuck. No matter which way I look at it, I'm stuck. I said I wanted to raise my children with Lance but that wasn't what I actually wanted. It was what I knew was needed. Lance needs this baby, but JacobJacob just loves it so much. And it's fine if I sacrifice myself, but I realized that I had no right to sacrifice Jacob and even less right to sacrifice this child."

She took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh, squaring her shoulders and looking directly at his headstone. Anthony sat in stunned silence, knowing the next words out of her mouth would cause the last piece to click into place.

"I wish I had told you this before you left us, Anthony. I wanted you to know so badly, I really did. I wanted you to be in this child's life, but it didn't work out and you'll never know how sorry I am for that. But not being able to share this child with youit made me realize even more that I can't miss out on sharing it with Jacob."

"Anthony, you're going to be a grandfather. This baby is ours mine and Jacob's. And we love it so much and wish he or she had a chance to know its grandfather."

The former doctor was stunned. Not a single word or thought came to his mind only dull, crackling static that grew to an exuberant roar until he was sure that he had imagined the whole exchange. After all, Elizabeth hadn't just told him that his son was finally going to be a father had she? Such a thingthat was what he'd dreamed of for Jacob ever since he made it his mission to raise everyone else's children.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He opened it again but with the same results, so he just gave up. Instead, he sat on the wet grass and stared in awe at the mother of his newest grandchild, overcome by the emotions that washed over him. He doubted that anything else could have made him as happy as that piece of news did right at this moment.

Anthony was still trying to get over his shock when he heard Elizabeth let out a grunt and squirm, one of her hands falling on her protruding belly. She moved it around until she found the right spot and frowned down.

"It's not nice to kick Mommy when she's talking to Grampa Anthony," she murmured, soothing the spot where the baby had shifted inside of her.

Anthony let out a slow, wavering sigh and hesitantly reached his hand out toward her. Finding that he wasn't close enough, he scooted over the grass until he was right at her side, his hand hovering over hers. Elizabeth's fingers splayed out over her stomach and her hand moved downward, the other one coming up to frame the spot where the baby kicked again.

Taking a deep breath, Anthony held it in as he placed his hand on the dark fabric of her dress and waited for the slightest flutter. And there it was not a flutter, but a solid kick! He laughed aloud and moved his hands slightly, waiting for the next one that he hoped would come. It did, catching him right in the center of the palm and Anthony's grin stretched from ear to ear. This baby was strong as it should be, given its father.

"I know I told your Daddy that it would be best if he let me and Lance raise you, but I was wrong," Elizabeth murmured, her fingers still stroking her belly where the baby was growing restless. "I've never been more wrong. And I promise, I'll make sure all of this is fixed just as soon as I can, baby."

Anthony smiled softly as he listened to her talk to his grandchild, then reluctantly withdrew his hand. Leaning back, he shifted onto his feet and brought a hand to her unbound hair. Tenderly, he brushed her bangs away with his thumb and kissed her forehead.

As Elizabeth sat there on the damp grass, she felt a cool breeze whisper through her bangs even though it was a windless night. And she didn't know why it could have been finally saying everything out loud but she had a feeling that everything was going to be all right.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Jacob was awake by the time Anthony got back to the penthouse.

His son was seated on the same couch as before, his hands clasped between his knees as he stared blankly at the wall. The bottle of tequila sat at his feet, unopened. The young man didn't move as Anthony let himself in, and the former doctor just gazed at him for a long moment before slipping his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and slowly walking over. He circled around behind the couch, taking his time, and finally came to a stop at his son's side. Carefully, he hiked up his pants at the knee and lowered himself down onto the couch next to his boy.

Jacob didn't move, and Anthony found that he just couldn't keep from smiling.

"You're going to be a father," he whispered.

The young man shifted slightly on the couch, digging his bare toes into the carpet, and clenched his hands together just a little tighter.

"You're going to be a father. Elizabeth is pregnant with your child." Anthony smiled and looked down at his own hands, also clasped between his knees. "II put my hand on her stomach and I felt your baby kick. I love my grandchild so much, Jacobjust as I loved you."

The End.