Previously:

Giselle hosted a dinner party for her family, along with a few key investors of the Highwind Resort. She set out to impress her guests and prove that things had settled down since her return, but things went awry when Charlie Guthrie passed out and crashed to the ground for reasons unknown, casting a shadow over the evening.

Kerri continued to struggle with her issues with Beau and Miles. When she discovered she was pregnant, she kept the news from Beau at first, only to reveal it in front of everyone at Giselle's party.

Dominick returned to tell Miles he was going to turn himself in for his crimes. Dom was sick of being controlled by his father and his criminal activities. Miles was torn between letting Dom go and allowing him to do the right thing. When Dominick tried to leave, Miles tempted him into spending the night, giving into their attraction to one another.

 

St. Laurent Community Hospital

When Charlie Guthrie was torn from his dreamless slumber, the first thing he wanted to do was to return to it, to retreat back into the nothingness. Sleep wasn't something that came easily to him these days, but when it did, he cherished those precious few hours. It was time for his tired mind to be at peace from the problems of the waking world.

But now, upon opening his dark eyes, he found himself lying in a hospital bed under thin sheets and wearing an equally thin cloth hospital gown. He shivered, whether from being physically cold or from waking to these unfamiliar surroundings, he couldn't be certain...

Charlie swallowed hard. His throat was raw.

"Oh, you're awake!" Tisha Bradley said. She wore lavender scrubs and was currently examining his chart. She leaned closer to observe him and he began to cough, the action ravaging his achingly dry throat.

"Can I have some water?" Charlie rasped, feeling as though he'd swallowed a box full of toothpicks.

Tisha handed him a cup. "Slowly," she cautioned in her nurturing, honeyed voice.

"What did you do to me?" he asked. As he attempted to sit in bed, his stomach muscles quivered with the effort. His arms were weak and jelly-like, and he barely managed to prop himself up on them.

"We had to pump your stomach. You'll probably still be feeling a bit nauseous and weak. The question I have is what did you do to yourself?"

"I -- I don't remember. I don't know what you mean," he said, thinking to himself.

The last thing he remembered was sitting at his mother's dinner table. He recalled the appetizers, the drinks, the dinner. Then he remembered feeling tired, drained, and light-headed, like the room had suddenly started closing in on him. Charlie had pushed aside his chair to stand from the table. Maybe a bit of fresh air would snap him out of whatever it was he was feeling? Then it all came back to him...

"Oh, Jesus," he said, realizing that his family must have brought him here. He tried to look out the window of his hospital room. "They're here, aren't they? The entire gang?"

He was beginning to regret ever waking up.

 

St. Laurent Community Hospital

Along an alcove lined with vending machines, hard plastic chairs, and a fairly pathetic selection of magazines, Beau stood in uncomfortable silence with Kerrigan, who didn't seem to notice his agitation. They were all waiting for word on Charlie, but at the moment, she was busy trying to decide which variety of cappuccino to buy from the vending machine when Beau spoke up.

"Now that we're alone, can I ask what the hell that was all about at dinner tonight?"

"Now that we're alone ... what's that?" she asked, barely listening to him. She jammed her dollar into the machine and punched a button.

"I wanted to know what your problem is, now that we're alone," he repeated. "Because that's usually what people do when they address important or potentially sensitive issues. They wait and discuss them in private, instead of just blurting out whatever's on their mind whenever they feel like it."

"Is this about the baby? My toast at dinner, right?"

"Why couldn't you have told me earlier? What made you feel it was necessary to spring it upon everyone at the party before you even had the chance to tell me?"

"Was it the wrong thing to do?" she asked. "I thought it would be fun this way. A fun surprise for everyone. Giselle was so insistent that we come off as the perfect family tonight, I thought it would be a nice touch for impressing the investors, allowing them to join in our celebration the way we did."

This explanation only made Beau more angry. "So basically, you were just showing off for these people? Is that all this is to you?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "That's not the only reason. I don't understand. I thought you'd be happy about this. You said you were."

"What was I supposed to say? You didn't exactly leave me with many options there."

Kerri looked at him as if he'd slapped her, and he had to backpedal.

"I'm not saying I don't want the baby. I'm happy, so happy that we're having a child together. I just didn't expect it, that's all. I'm getting used to the idea."

"Good," she said, brushing away a few escaped tears. "I'm sorry," she apologized, Beau taking her into his arms. "I know it was a bitchy thing to do. I'm sorry. I just wanted you to feel ... I don't know. I guess I just wanted to hurt you, because I've been so mad at everyone."

Beau stroked her hair, wounded and somewhat startled by her words. He hadn't realized she still harbored such a grudge. And not just against Miles. "We can't do this to each other," he said, looking her in the eye. "We need to be there for one another, especially if we're really going to do this," he said, holding up her hand so they were both looking at her engagement ring. "I want a life with you."

"That's what I want, too. There's no doubt in my mind that I'm in love with you, Beau, but I need to be able to trust you, too." She lifted her bowed head, her expression pained. "And right now, I'm not sure I can do that."

Beau felt trapped in place, trapped with no easy answer for her, no answer at all. He could only stand stiff and stare after her, as Kerrigan collected her coffee from the machine and disappeared down the hallway.



County Jail

Visitation hours were nearly over for the day, but Miles Burke managed to rush himself to the county jail just before the cutoff time. He went straight from work, not knowing what he was planning to do or say once he got there, but knowing that he had to stop by.

Dominick's lawyers were attempting to strike a deal. They were trying to keep him out of jail, or at least reduce his sentence if he worked with them to take down his father, Ava, and their various associates. Miles knew how hard it had to be for Dominick to turn on his family. He'd worked for Dominick's father too, and he knew he wasn't the kind of man to betray if you valued your existence.

"You look ... surprisingly put-together for someone who's spent the past two nights in a cell," he said when he was led into the visitation area. "How are you holding up?"

"Just peachy. Well-rested. That's really all there is to do here, so I'm making the most of it." Dominick's eyes were bright, alive with optimism. "Things are going better than I could have hoped for."

"Only you could view this experience as one big vacation..." Miles muttered, smiling in spite of himself.

"But it is to me," Dominick argued. "Not exactly the first place I'd choose for myself, but I've felt more free here than I've felt in years. My father and Ava, they can't tell me what to do anymore. I don't have to listen to them ever again."

"Yeah, now you get all your orders from lawyers, police, and prison security."

Not even Miles's sarcasm could bring Dominick down today. Dominick was truly happy with himself, his decision to turn himself in.

"So, how long are you going to have to be here?" Miles asked. "Have you found that out yet?"

"I agreed to a deal. I'm giving them as much as I can about my father and his operation in Aruba."

"And...? What does that mean for you?"

Dominick's face fell for a moment. Miles wasn't sure what to make of it.

Two short days ago, he'd dropped Dominick off at the police station after spending the night with him. It was a struggle for Miles to go through with it, but at Dominick's insistence, Miles let him turn himself in for his crimes.

But Miles didn't want to let him go again. One night with him was just a tease. His sister had already walked out on him. He couldn't stand to lose Dominick, too. Dominick promised him that it was the right thing to do. If they could ever be together, he had to face his punishment and put everything that had happened behind them. Start over.

"Eight months," Dominick said finally.

"Eight months!" Miles shouted, as if it were the biggest injustice in the world.

Dominick looked to the guard, embarrassed. "It's not that bad. Not at all, considering everything I've done, everything my family's done to people. Not just you and Kerrigan, either."

"But I thought..." What he thought was that it wasn't fair. Dominick was helping these police officers build a case. He was giving them valuable information for tracking down someone truly dangerous! And this was how they repaid him? "I just didn't think it'd be so long..."

"It won't be. It'll go by before you know it. With good behavior, who knows how long it'll actually end up being?"

Miles appreciated the effort to cheer him up, but he should be the one keeping Dominick in good spirits, not the other way around. "Good behavior? When have you ever been well-behaved?" he asked, his sarcastic streak returning.

Dominick looked him over, savoring what was in front of his eyes. "I'm only naughty when I'm with you."

Miles let his mind wander to places he knew he shouldn't be revisiting. The guard in the corner of the room cleared his throat, turning awkwardly from them as they realized he was listening in on their conversation.

"I turned myself in, voluntarily like I promised," Dominick said, returning to the topic at hand. "That should count for something in the way of good behavior, don't you think? I just want to serve my time now and stay out of trouble."

"I hope you can do that. I hope you really mean it."

"I do," Dominick said, smiling bright as he reached up to touch Miles's cheek. "And I'll do whatever it takes to get back to you as soon as I can. That's what you want, right?"

It was exactly what Miles wanted. His body ached with that particular brand of want. He felt his face go hot at Dom's touch, but he took Dominick's hand away, lingering in contact before finally letting go. "Of course I do."

But even when Dominick served his time, even when he was released, it was hard to imagine a reality in which they could be together. Not if he planned on having his sister and Beau in his life, too.

 

St. Laurent Community Hospital

In a waiting area near Charlie's room, Giselle, Beau, Kerri, Remy, and Regina all waited for an update. Claudia Crane-Shaw and Bruno Bossi had politely excused themselves Giselle's disastrous dinner party the moment the paramedics determined Charlie's injuries were not life-threatening and that he would be fine. As frustrated as Giselle was about her evening being spoiled the way it was, her concern was solely for Charlie now.

Following a late-day appointment to evaluate her pregnancy, Martine Guthrie rounded the corner to find the group of familiar faces at the hospital. Seeing Giselle first, she nearly turned the other direction, but she was spotted immediately so she tried her best to be cordial.

"Hi. What are you all doing here?" Martine asked, taking them in. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she'd taken mental note of who was standing in front of her ... and more importantly, who was not. "Oh my God, did something happen to Charlie?"

The family members looked at each other.

"He ... had a fainting spell of some sort over dinner," Giselle confirmed, reluctant to share anything with Martine, a one-time nemesis for Vincent's affections.

"Do they know what's wrong?" she asked, trying to peek through the window to his hospital room. The blinds were barely cracked enough for her to see inside. "He was feeling sick all day. He told me earlier." She peered back and forth at the window, ogling for a sharper look. "Maybe it was a bad idea for him to go out, after all."

"Yeah, maybe, it seems," Giselle sniped. "At any rate, the paramedics said he was stable on the way here, so your presence is not required."

"Mom, could you tone it down?" Beau turned to Martine. "Did Charlie say what was wrong with him?"

Martine shook her head. "Not really. All I know was that he had a bad headache, which could have been brought on from any number of things he's been faced with."

Giselle fumed to herself. It was annoying to her that Martine, Charlie's vile former stepmother, thought she knew more about her son and his struggles than she did.

Before she could say something to shut Martine's trap, a doctor approached the group. "Hello," he said, nodding to the Ormands. "I'm happy to tell you that Charlie is awake and doing fine now."

"Aren't you going to tell us what happened?" Giselle demanded.

"You may see your son now," he said to Giselle, grinning broadly but not answering her question.

 

St. Laurent Community Hospital

"So what's the diagnosis?" Charlie asked Tisha. He'd regained some of his strength now that he was able to sit upright in bed and speak in a voice that didn't sound like gravel.

"You overdosed," she said, her voice flat and almost offended with him. "Oxycodone, a drug found in most of the stronger prescription pain relievers. Does that sound about right?"

Charlie's brow furrowed as he digested this news. "I don't get it. I didn't take anything like that."

"Your medical report says otherwise," Tisha said, still disappointed. Probably even moreso now that she thought he was lying to her. "What you did to yourself could have been fatal, Charlie. If you'd taken even a few more pills, or if you didn't have someone to call for help ... who knows what could have happened to you." Her tough stand with him seemed to falter a bit as her natural sympathetic nature won over.

"I'm telling you, I didn't take anything! I swear."

"I think we should tell your family what happened. Maybe this is something you should all discuss, and--"

"I don't need to discuss anything with them! Aren't you listening to me?"

Tisha looked down at him, pursing her lips and fighting against whatever it was she seemed to be trying to say to him. "I understand what you've been going through, Charlie. God knows, I've had my share of bad days in the past few weeks. That's why I'm not really one to lecture you. Not about this. But I can tell you that what you're doing isn't going to help you feel any better. And it's certainly not making things any easier for your family and your loved ones. You can't do this to them, Charlie. They've already lost so much. We all have."

Charlie was shamed into silence by her words, a shock to him because, as far as he knew, he wasn't even guilty of what she was accusing him of doing! He may have been miserable since Erin left, but he was no drug addict, and he wasn't about to start. As bad as things were for him, destroying himself like that would only be one more excuse to feel shitty and self-pitying. It wouldn't help him get his daughter back.

"Look, Tisha. I'm telling you straight up, I didn't take any painkillers, at least not willingly. I don't have a prescription for anything like that, and I have no idea how -- wait..." he said, the answer finally hitting him.

Charlie remembered his headache from before dinner. How it was still pulsing at his temples as he readied himself for his mother's celebration.

Charlie saw himself searching for some aspirin in his medicine cabinet, finding none, then grabbing a bottle he found in Martine's bathroom back at the house. He opened it and shook a handful of pills into his open palm...

"That's it," he said. Suddenly everything was so clear. "I thought I was taking aspirin, Tisha. The bottle I opened ... it must've had something else in it. Something other than aspirin. Or maybe I grabbed the wrong thing?"

"Maybe," Tisha said, hesitating before giving him a gentle smile. "I guess you were just confused. But those pills you took definitely weren't aspirin. You should be more careful. With any medication you're taking."

Charlie saw his family gathered outside his room, and Tisha followed his gaze. "I still think you should tell them what happened," she suggested.

When he didn't respond, she opened the door anyway, as if to punish him by allowing his family to descend upon him.

"Charlie, we're so glad you're all right," Aunt Regina said, taking his hand. The rest of the family filed in, and Regina stepped aside to let Giselle see her son.

"How are you feeling?" Giselle asked, eyes darting between her son and Tisha, whoever spoke first.

"I'll be fine," Charlie said. "And thanks for getting me here." He tried to be as polite and obedient as possible, smiling up at his mother. It was always less painful for him when he said what she wanted to hear.

"Charlie, what happened to you? I thought you were feeling better?" Martine asked, approaching his bedside.

"So what's wrong with him?" Giselle interrupted, turning to Tisha for answers. "Please, tell me why my son collapsed into our gingerbread cake before anyone could enjoy it. I'd love to know the reason."

Tisha clammed up under Giselle's ice-blue glare. "Well ... the thing is ... what happened was..."

Her eyes met Charlie's hoping for a reprieve. He knew she didn't want to betray his trust, but she wanted his family to know the truth about his supposed 'overdose.'

"It was a drug overdose," Charlie said, still smiling as he looked to each member of his stunned family. "I overdosed on ... something or other--"

"A prescription painkiller. A very strong and dangerous one," Tisha said, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

"Yeah, that," Charlie said, not too concerned. "But it was an accident. I meant to take something for my headache, and I took the wrong pills somehow, and ... here we are."

"Surrrrre. You 'took the wrong pills.' That's the oldest excuse in the junkie handbook, trust me," Remy teased his brother. "You're not planning to overthrow me as the addict of the family are you? 'Cause I'm not down with that."

Charlie laughed, his throat still fiery from having the contents of his stomach pumped through it only an hour or two earlier. "I'll try not to steal your title, buddy. Okay?"

While the two of them laughed, the rest of the family exchanged worried glances. As vibrant as Charlie was for someone who had just survived a drug overdose, he was still ... someone who had just survived a drug overdose.

"How did you take the wrong pills?" Beau asked, still not sure if he bought Charlie's easy explanation. "It seems like something a person would notice."

Charlie was starting to tire of defending himself. "I don't know, Beau. I just grabbed the wrong bottle or something. Give me a goddamn break, will you? Do you really think I meant for this to happen?"

Beau's hands balled up at his sides. "You probably didn't mean for this to happen, but it did, didn't it? You really scared us, not to mention you ruined mother's event."

"Like you care about some stupid dinner party anyway."

"Whatever." Beau looked to Kerri, his teeth gritted in restraint. "Are you ready to go?" She nodded, and Beau put an arm around her. "It was nice seeing you again," he said to Charlie.

"Bye," Kerri said apologetically before being led away.

"I think Beau's a little pissed," Remy said his eyes trailing his brother's exit before returning to Charlie.

"Why? Because I told him the truth?"

Remy shrugged. "I don't know what he thinks, but I believe you, bro."

"Thanks," Charlie said, shaking Remy's hand. "I'm glad someone does."

Giselle watched them suspiciously. She thought her problems were over when Remy stopped using drugs. Now she had to worry about Charlie, too?

"When can I leave?" Charlie asked Tisha. "Can you get me out of here?"

Tisha crossed to his side. "You should be able to leave soon, now that the drugs are out of your system. If you feel up to it, I'll go get your doctor to discuss it with you."

"That sounds great," he said, happy for some good news.

Tisha left the room and Charlie was alone with his family. "I'm going to change into my clothes now. Can I have a minute?" The family all headed for the door, but then Charlie said, "Martine, could I speak to you for a moment first?"

Everyone looked to one another, Martine just as surprised as any of them.

"Why on earth would you want to speak to her?" Giselle folded her arms in front of her, casting a sidelong look at her.

"Because I do. Is that good enough for you?"

Remy and Regina left the hospital room. Giselle followed reluctantly, caught in a menacing stare-down with Martine on her way to the door.

"So..." Charlie said, once they were alone. "You wouldn't have any idea why the aspirin I borrowed from you sent me on a death spiral into my mother's dessert tray, would you?"

"I'm sorry, okay!" she blurted out, throwing her hands in the air as she paced the room. "It was Percocet. I've had those pills forever. I used to take them occasionally to take the edge off back when I was married to Vincent. I kept them hidden in that aspirin bottle, and I forgot all about them. I haven't taken them in so long..."

"Maybe it's time we get rid of them," Charlie said, more amused by the situation than Martine would have been if she were in his position.

"I'm so sorry," she said again. "Thanks for not ratting me out to your family. Your mother already hates me enough without thinking I'm your drug dealer."

"Let her think what she wants. It doesn't matter."

"So much for our plan of getting your family off your back. They're not going to be giving you your space after this little stunt, that's for sure."

Charlie knew she was right. If anything, they'd only be watching him that much more closely now.

 

St. Laurent Community Hospital

Down the hall, Tisha Bradley headed to the nurses' station to get Charlie's paperwork in order. Charlie wasn't in any physical jeopardy, but Tisha still worried for his emotional state. She worried that he wasn't being completely honest about his overdose, and she worried that it could happen again if his family wasn't vigilant in keeping watch over him.

Before she could reach the station, however, she was stopped in the hallway by Giselle Ormand. "Excuse me, do you have a moment?"

"Of course." Tisha stopped as Giselle caught up to her.

"It's just ... I don't know what to do," Giselle said, her hands clasped together in front of her.

"Oh, Charlie's going to be fine now. The drugs have been cleaned from his system, Ms. Ormand."

Giselle shook her head. "No, no. That's not what I meant," she said. "I mean ... I don't know what to do for him now. You know? To make sure something like this doesn't happen again. I know he says otherwise, but I'm worried this might not have been a one-time incident. My son's been under a lot of stress lately, you have to understand."

"I do. Trust me, I understand," Tisha said, and Giselle was immediately reminded of what the nurse had also lost to that basketcase, Erin Emery.

"Of course you do, I'm sorry."

Tisha bit her lip, tried to maintain her composure and keep her mind on the job at hand.

"I don't think my son meant to overdose. I don't think he wants to die," Giselle said, "but I do think he may be developing an unhealthy addiction. I don't know if I can handle this again. But he's a grown man. I can't keep track of his habits on an hourly basis. What can I do?"

"I can't give you an answer to that," Tisha said sadly. "But I think you're right to be worried. Charlie's been put through the wringer lately. A depressive personality coupled with prescription painkillers is never a good combination, but the fact that you recognize this is a good first step."

"I wish there was something I could do, anything to make this all easier for him."

"There is," Tisha put a hand on her shoulder, a strange sensation for her to reach out and comfort a woman who always seemed to be made of steel. "You can let him know you care. Be there for him as best you can," Tisha advised. "Even if you're the last person Charlie wants to see."

Tisha continued down the hall and Giselle considered her advice. It sounded easy when it was stated so simply, but making a place for herself in Charlie's life -- the life of the son she barely knew anymore -- was a challenge even Giselle Ormand wasn't sure she could face.