Danny runs into Beth, who apologizes

Jem Van Doren's Residence

Seven River Drive

The house is silent, quiet enough for Rena Carlson to hear the leafless tree branches outside scratching the window panes. Her hands thrust into her coat pockets, Rena shivers a little, having been both cold and tired all night -- and now she's nervous as well.

"You have to talk to me," she tells the man sitting in front of her. "Whatever's going on ... I need to know."

Sitting on the couch, Jem Van Doren doesn't bother looking up. His fingertips massage his temples, and he seems remarkably interested in the pattern of the throw rug in front of the square glass coffee table. After a moment of digesting her words, he shakes his head.

"No, actually, you don't. Ever hear the expression 'ignorance is bliss'? Trust me, it applies here."

Rena exhales in frustration and takes a step closer. "Something very serious is going on. Why was Jonnie Adair here?"

"Oh, he just stopped by for a visit, same as you."

"You don't just get visits from a man like Jonnie Adair -- he's been mixed up in some terrible things before, and he probably still is. What did he want?"

Jem's reddened eyes close. "To wish me a Happy New Year. Or let's say he's selling magazine subscriptions. Take your pick, Nurse."

"Stop it, Jem! Don't treat me like an idiot child."

"I don't think you're an idiot. Just out of your league here -- way out. You're better off not involved."

"But I am involved." Rena kneels down so that she's at his eye level. "I'm involved as your friend and your nurse. And -- and from the way Jonnie was looking at me, he thinks I'm involved in some other way."

"Nah, he heard you say that we didn't sleep together."

Rena's lips tighten, and she tries to count to ten. But she only makes it to five before blurting, "You know that's not what I meant! He seems to think I know something. And I do. After everything you said last night, I do, Jem."

"Maybe," he murmurs, still refusing to look at her. "Or maybe you only think you do."

She hesitates. "True. But there's only one way to know for sure, and that's for you to answer me. Do you know how that fire started?"

"Well, let's see. I've been stuck in this house since I left the hospital. How could I possibly--"

"Damn it!" Rena exclaims, surprising herself with her vehemence. "I told you not to treat me like an idiot!"

Jem is also surprised, enough to lift his gaze to meet hers. "My goodness, Nurse. I don't think I've ever heard such terrible language come from those prim little lips. They don't really suit--"

"Jem." She darts a hand out to clutch his knee. "Jem, please tell me."

He looks at her for a few seconds. "Your fingers are trembling," he says eventually. "They're shaking so much I can feel 'em through your gloves. You're scared."

"A little."

"A lot." Slowly, Jem lowers his own hand to cover hers. "Rena, you don't even know a quarter of what's going on, and you're still freaking out. You really think you can handle knowing any more?"

"Not knowing is worse. If I know for sure, I can help you, Jem. We can go to the police and--"

"The police?" Jem backs away, his mouth open in alarm. "Are you out to lunch? Why would I get the cops involved?"

"Because they'll be able to arrest Jonnie and keep him from hurting you or anyone else."

Jem laughs unpleasantly. "You are naive. They're not gonna arrest him just 'cause you and I feel intimidated by the little thug."

"No, they'll arrest him because he nearly killed two people." Rena leans forward, staring at Jem. "It's true, isn't it? He's the one who set the Record on fire?"

Schuyler Falls Community Hospital

Fifth Floor

Charles Stanford walks the single flight down the fire stairs from the hospital's administrative offices to the fifth floor surgery units. He could easily have taken the elevator, but he's felt restless and agitated all day. Since he's promised the director of development that he'll drop in on a meeting with a prospective donor later on, Charles needs to release some of the pent-up energy before then. This small amount of exercise is better than nothing.

And, he admits to himself as he pulls open the door to the fifth floor, maybe visiting Doug White will do him some good. Of course, he's not at all to blame for White's current situation ... or for the man's past situation, either. But Charles can't help but feel a nagging sense of regret over the ugliness that transpired between them.

Sighing, Charles brushes his hand absently across his abdomen to ensure that his dark gray suit jacket is buttoned. He walks through the busy waiting room on his way to the ICU, and casts a quick glance at the various visitors. One face stops him short.

Only seconds after Charles discovers his son sitting over by the window, Tyler Stanford lifts his face and notices him in return. The young man looks away quickly, but of course, he can't ignore his father forever. Especially since Charles has no intention of passing him by.

As he strides over to Tyler, Charles looks down at his watch unnecessarily. "It's nearly one," he begins when he reaches his son's side. "What are you doing here?"

Tyler's defiant face doesn't bode well for the rest of this conversation. "That's pretty obvious, isn't it? I'm waiting for Daphne."

"You know what I mean. Isn't today the day of your mock SATs? Yes," Charles adds at Tyler's obvious dismay. "I'm well aware of your tutor's schedule, even if you aren't."

"I'm as aware of them as you, Dad. I blew them off. This is more important than some stupid practice test."

"That's what you said about the PSATs last year, when Daphne was going through whatever crisis she was going through then."

"So what? I was right, wasn't I? This is real life, Dad."

"I know that. But your future is at stake, and you're jeopardizing it." Charles lowers his voice, looking quickly from side to side. "There's nothing more to discuss. You're leaving now. The test began at noon, but you can at least take the math portion--"

"To hell with the math portion! I'm not leaving Daphne alone!"

Charles feels his blood pressure rising. "This is an inappropriate place for an argument. Come with me, please, Tyler."

Grabbing his coat, Tyler follows Charles out of the waiting lounge to a more private area near the water fountain. When Charles stops and turns back to him, he can see that Tyler is more than ready for a fight. The young man's eyes flash with righteous indignation -- an emotion Charles knows is relatively new for his son, who until last year couldn't be bothered in taking a stance on anything. Charles wishes he could feel unalloyed pride in Tyler's willingness to stand up for what he believes in. But ... because he knows what's behind it ... Charles feels only concern.

"All right, Tyler," Charles says, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "I commend you for being loyal. But as I've told you before, you're taking this too far. You're letting this girl take over your life."

"And I've told you before, that's bullshit!"

"Watch your mouth."

"I'm sorry, Dad, but it is." Tyler leans in towards him, his intense blue-gray gaze meeting his unflinchingly. "Her father's in there, maybe dying. I can't believe you think some stupid mock test is more important than being here for her!"

"Well, Tyler, it wouldn't be -- if you hadn't already done so poorly on the SATs the first time around!"

Tyler grinds his teeth. "Dad, I told you--"

"And what was your excuse back then? That Daphne needed you. That her mother'd just been put in prison and you had to take care of her." Charles tries not to sound too callous, but he can't help the icy inflection in his voice. "It's months later, and you're still being drawn into her problems, just as I knew you would be."

"That's great. Blame her, why don't you?"

"I'm not blaming her. But I can't worry about her, either. I can only worry about you, and when I see you throwing away your responsibilities to yourself--"

"I'm not!" Tyler turns away from Charles. "Look, you don't have to worry about me!"

Charles holds onto his son's arm. "I wish I didn't have to. I wish I didn't have to remind you of the promise you made to your mother and me. You said you'd be able to retake the test at the end of January."

"And I will, all right?"

"Not by 'blowing off' your study groups and tutor sessions. Damn it, Tyler," Charles says, clenching his own jaw. "You cannot get into a good school with both average grades and poor test scores. I hoped that your ability to do well on the SATs would outweigh your dismal marks for the past two semesters."

Tyler stares at him in naked disbelief. "For God's sake, Dad, this is my life! Let me do what I want with it."

"Which is what? What do you want with your life, Tyler?"

"Don't you get it? I want to be with Daphne, and take care of her. I can make her happy."

Charles sees the truth in his son's eyes, and it pains him. "You can't make someone else happy," he says in a hollow tone. "Believe me, Tyler. You can't give someone else happiness -- if anything, you'll be destroying your own in the process."

"No, you're wrong."

"You don't know what you're letting yourself in for. Someone as troubled as Daphne White ... you're dooming yourself to a life of perpetual disappointment and hardship."

Tyler shakes his head. "You don't understand."

"Of course I do, I've seen it before -- I've lived it before." Charles hesitates. "I know I've never said much about my marriage to Chelsea's mother--"

"Mom's told me a little about it. But Dad, this is totally different. Daphne isn't a crazy nutcase, she's just going through some really harsh things."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Charles snaps, more angrily than he intended. "Roberta wasn't just some nutcase. Don't you dare call her names like that!"

Abashed by Charles's unusual heated words, Tyler looks down. "Sorry. I'm just going by what Mom said."

"I doubt your mother was that insensitive." Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down, Charles sighs. "My point is, Roberta also went through some extremely difficult times, much like Daphne. And I tried to save her. I gave up a great many opportunities back then, solely for her sake. All it did was make me miserable. It even took a toll on me physically."

"Dad--"

"Do you understand what I'm getting at? I don't want you to waste your life like that, all for something that ends up in misery and failure."

"Dad." Tyler's raised voice and pointed look get Charles's attention, and he turns in the direction of Tyler's stare.

Chelsea stands behind him, her blue gaze flickering with hurt and anger.

Schuyler Falls Community Hospital

Fifth Floor

As the monitor alarm continues to blare, Daphne White backs away from the hospital bed, shouting her uncle's name. Simultaneously, the door bursts open to reveal a tall nurse, who brushes by Daphne without a word. Greg White immediately follows the nurse, his usually emotive face frozen in worry.

"I wasn't doing anything," Daphne cries, leaning against the wall and hugging herself. "I was just talking to him!"

There's no response at once, and while the nurse and Greg lean over Doug White's bed, Daphne closes her eyes in overwhelmed fear. But then the nurse turns to Greg with an impatient shake of her head. "False alarm," she says, annoyed but blase. "Nothing to worry about."

Greg grips the bed rail, exhaling heavily. "Thank God," he murmurs, looking at the readout of the monitor before turning to his niece. "Daph, it's all right. It happens all the time -- monitors sometimes go off for no reason."

She shudders, afraid to trust his reassurance. Greg grins with relief and thanks the nurse. When the other woman leaves the room, he moves over to Daphne, cupping her head with his hand and encouraging her to lean against him. "Well, that was a lot of excitement over nothing, huh?"

But Daphne clutches his chest in a panic. "Why don't they fix the machine? Why would they let it go off like that, making everyone think something's wrong?"

"Because the hospital's cheap?" Greg kisses her head. "Seriously, these are sophisticated units, but they're fallible. Sometimes they can be oversensitive, and they can react to any slight internal change that might not necessarily be dangerous."

She blinks, staring resentfully at the monitor. "Well, what is that for, anyway?"

"It's an EEG. It monitors brain activity. Actually, getting some action from the EEG is a good thing, in Doug's case. We've been worried that ... that he might have had some damage in that area."

"Because he was without air for so long."

"Yes. Looks like there's something going on in there after all," Greg says. "Maybe he likes hearing you talk to him."

Daphne's eyes widen, and she lifts her head to stare at Greg. "You -- you really think he can hear stuff I'm saying?"

"Like I told you before, we're not sure. But it's certainly possible. Some coma survivors claim to have heard all sorts of things. And your dad's not even in a coma," Greg adds quickly. "He's just unconscious."

Mortified, Daphne pushes herself away, gazing down at her father. "Oh God. I don't want him to be able to hear me! I didn't think he could."

"Why not?"

"I -- oh God," Daphne repeats, her face turning red. "I'm the worst person in the world!"

"Don't be ridiculous. Daphne, what is going on?"

Ignoring him, she stumbles over to the bed. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry!"

Greg moves up to her. "Sorry for what?"

Daphne shakes her head, and weakly takes hold of Doug's hand. "I didn't mean it, Daddy. I didn't mean it at all!" Bending down, she kisses his limp fingers, leaving tears behind as she straightens up and releases him. With a last stricken look at Greg, the young woman hurries from the room.

Schuyler Falls Community Hospital

Fifth Floor

Though his first impulse is to follow, Greg remains where he is. Instead, he turns back to his brother, wiping his own tired, burning eyes before taking a long look at Doug's motionless face.

"Christ," he mutters. "What goes around, comes around, I guess. You know how it is for me, Doug. As a doctor, family members have always just been annoyances. People I'm forced to deal with when I'd rather be looking over an anesthetized body. I mean, I've felt sorry for them, when I see people in the waiting room, hanging around hoping for some good news. But I never really realized how goddamned helpless they must feel."

He bends over, leaning his elbows over the railing with a sigh. "That's probably why Daphne's taking so much responsibility for everything. It's crazy for her to blame herself, but I guess in a strange way, it helps her to feel like she's got some control over something. Between this and everything that happened with Nora ... she must feel like she's powerless to stop every crappy thing that's happened."

Leaning as close as he is to Doug, Greg can still see the dampness of Daphne's tears on his brother's hand. Slowly, Greg unlocks and lowers the bed rail, removing the barrier between him and Doug, and then reaches out to brush the tears away. The contact with Doug's warm skin feels very strange. Greg and Doug have never been close, rarely hugged or even shook hands as they grew up and apart from one another.

But -- almost without realizing it -- Greg finds himself slipping his fingers beneath Doug's hand, slowly clasping it with a firm, tender grip.

"You've felt powerless too," he murmurs, staring into Doug's closed eyes. "You were out of control for a long time. And it's only now that I know how much you've tried to get your life back in order. I do realize it, Doug. Even though I've been too damn self-absorbed to help you, or even to notice what you were going through. But I know it now."

Greg's voice is barely a whisper, his emotions torn between embarrassment and overwhelming need to connect with his brother. "That's why you've got to get out of this. Not for me, but because you have to finish what you've started. You're going to make a new life for yourself, and you're going to make things right with Daphne. I do believe in you, Doug. I really do, and I -- I'm sorry I never did before. I'm really, really sorry..." Unable to continue, Greg rests his forehead against Doug's hand.

And gradually he realizes that Doug's fingers are tightening around his own.

Jem Van Doren's Residence

Seven River Drive

Jem seems to weigh Rena's words carefully. He pushes himself up off the couch with difficulty and limps over to the window. "So you're blaming Jonnie Adair for the fire."

"Isn't that why he came over? To -- to gloat about it?" Rena looks at Jem's back, hoping for a sign. "You've been having money problems. Does it have something to do with him? Maybe you owe him, and he wanted you to pay him back, but you couldn't so ... So he burned down the building to teach you a lesson. Am I right?"

He doesn't respond, looking outside at the empty, snow-covered street. Rena straightens up and goes to his side, wishing he'd face her so she could read his expression. "If I am right, there's something we can do. If pointed in the right direction, the police could find evidence linking Jonnie to the fire, and then he'll get locked away, where he can't harm you. Wouldn't that make things all right for you? If we just told the police?"

Swiveling to his left, Jem glares down at her. "You want me to tell the cops that Jonnie Adair torched my building?"

"Yes. If you want, I can go with you. Or now that I know, I could even do it myself, if you--"

Her words are cut off when Jem grabs her shoulders, his grip not as strong as last night -- but not gentle, either. "Get this straight, nurse. You're not telling them a thing. You'd be getting me in bigger trouble, do you realize that?"

"Let go of me!"

He releases her, but doesn't stop staring intently into her face. "Arresting Adair wouldn't do a damn thing, there's plenty more thugs where he came from. Christ, you have no idea what you're dealing with!"

"How can I?" Rena's voice rises, along with her frustration. "How can I know what I'm dealing with when you won't give me a straight answer to anything?"

"Yeah, but why should I say anything, if I know plan on turning around and spreading it to the world?"

"I'm not a gossip! I'm just trying to help."

"Your help is gonna make me dead," Jem snaps viciously. "And it probably won't do you much good in the health department, either."

Remaining very still, Rena keeps her gaze steady on him. "So you lied before. I am in danger."

Jem says nothing, and she feels sickened, as if her stomach has suddenly plummeted to her knees. Somehow she manages to continue. "Then -- then I have a right to know the truth."

He shakes his head, but Rena has the impression that it's not a denial of her words -- Jem seems to be arguing with himself, not her. Finally, he runs a hand over his eyes and turns away. "If I tell you," he begins in a slow, deliberate tone, "Then I'm telling you as your patient. And that means you have to keep it to yourself, doesn't it? Doctor-patient confidentiality, right?"

"No. Confidentiality only extends to my treatment of a patient's injuries or illness. The things you said last night, that was part of your trauma, and I treated you for that. But today's different, and I -- "

"Then forget it. Okay? Just forget the whole thing."

Rena is surprised to hear a faint disappointment in his voice. He wants to tell someone, she realizes. And he has no one else to count on. No one but me...

"You don't understand," she says, her throat suddenly tight with the difficulty of what she's about to say. "You don't need to force me to keep quiet by bringing up my oath as a nurse. If keeping your secret is the right thing to do--"

"It is. It'll keep you and me alive."

She hesitates for a few seconds. "Then I will."

"The cops could ask you questions at some point."

"I keep my promises, Jem. And no one can make me do otherwise."

"Yeah?" He moves his head slightly to measure her with a sidelong glance. "Not even Greg White?"

Holding her breath, Rena nods. Jem turns again to face her, his head tilting in doubt. "Even though his brother's lying in a hospital, almost dead 'cause of the fire? You really wouldn't tell him?"

Oh God, Greg... and Clark ... Rena closes her eyes, and gives a quick shake of her head. "If your life depends on it, then no, I wouldn't tell."

Jem examines her carefully. "I don't trust many people," he says, almost to himself. "For some reason I trust you. Probably selfish of me, 'cause it puts you in a crappy position, but you seem intent on being there." He smiles crookedly. "Guess after you shoved your way in here and Adair heard you, you don't have much of a choice."

"Just tell me. Why did Jonnie set the fire?"

"He didn't." Jem takes a deep breath, putting his hands in the pockets of his bathrobe. "I did."