HANLEY HOME

A flurry of paper fliers blinds Leslie Hanley as she sits in the living room, staring at the stack on the coffee table. Missing. Fliers for her missing daughter, Akilah Moore. It's been a near week since Leslie last heard from her daughter, all since the night her husband rose from the dead.

It seems insane.

Rising from the dead? That's impossible.

But it happened right in front of Leslie's eyes. For nearly seven years, she believed her husband died in a car explosion. Everyone did. She and her family even witnessed the explosion themselves.

So how does she explain her husband still being alive? How does she explain the man that looks just like the man she married and vowed to spend the rest of her life with, lying in a hospital bed? She can't begin to.

Which is just as well, because the fact that he doesn't remember who he is, yet somehow thinks he's Elizabeth Hanley — her current husband's ex-wife — is beyond reality. Aaron Maddock examined Sean and determined that he must have some type of amnesia that's causing him to relate to a person from his past. Sean knew Elizabeth before her death, perhaps the explosion triggered the amnesia.

Left him scrambling to find something tangible for his mind to hold onto. And the only thing he could catch in his grip were his memories of Elizabeth.

Leslie doesn't want to believe it. Why would he remember Elizabeth? And why would he choose now to return to Marquette Cove and show up at her home?

But she can't think about that now. The only thing on her mind is her daughter. Wherever Akilah is, whatever has happened to her...

Leslie picks up a flier from the coffee table and gazes at the photo of Akilah. The words "missing" in bold, block letters cause a rush of blood to her head. Leslie crumples the flier into a ball as she curls up on the couch, equally unable and unwilling to stop the tears falling from her eyes.

The balled up flier slips from her outstretched hands and rolls across the floor.



ALEC BALE & DARREN REYNOLDS' PENTHOUSE

In the darkness, Alec Bale reaches for the light switch on the bathroom wall. Finally finding it, he turns on the light and waits for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. He flinches as he approaches the bathroom sink and turns on the faucet.

He just awoke.

Yet he has no idea what time it is. He barely knew where he was when he woke up. The only thing he knows is that he's no longer in prison, and for that he's...grateful? Maybe. There doesn't seem to be much difference in location.

His apartment or prison, both of them are haunted. Haunted by the reality of what he's done.

"Alec, stop! Put the gun down!"

He splashes water onto his face and lets it roll down his skin, sliding back into the sink. He feels dead. He should be dead. For what he's done to not only Melissa, but Jessica too...all of his friends.

His family has scrambled to assure him that none of this is his fault. That it's his father's fault.

But Alec can't believe any of that.

He blames himself.

He blames...no. No. No...

The sink, no longer gushing water, now has dark blood flowing from it. He cries out in pain and slides back, slipping in an even larger pool of blood. He falls onto his back, cracking his skull on the linoleum floor.

Blood continues to flow from the faucet, overflowing in the sink and spilling onto the bathroom carpet.

"Stop! Make it stop!"

"Alec!"

Felicia Bale rushes into the bathroom to find her son balled up on the floor, water overflowing from the sink.

"Alec, what's wrong?" Felicia said, grasping at her son as Darren Reynolds enters behind her and turns off the sink.

Alec remains silent, oblivious to his mother's pleas.

"Alec, can you hear me? Alec?"



ST. THOMAS CHURCH

Robert Bale kneels in prayer, a solitary figure. He is alone in the church, attempting to sort the thoughts that have raced through his mind within the past week.

He still can't believe she's gone.

"I'm so sorry," Robert says. "Melissa...I'm so sorry."

All he's done is blame himself for her death. He didn't pull the trigger, but he might as well have. He cheated on Melissa, just as he'd cheated on his first wife with Melissa. Part of Robert thinks that that Melissa should have realized he wouldn't be able to change, but he can't hold her responsible for that.

Not when she's gone.

Not when he feels so...empty.

And now, for some reason, his son and the rest of his family is aligned against him. As if they believe Alec's wild claims of molestation and child abuse. It's utterly ridiculous for Robert's family not to trust him.

And it's not as if the complaints will go anywhere.

Alec has no proof. And given his recent track record...who would believe him, except for the easily swayed idiots Robert has the misfortune of being related to?

Not a single one of them has expressed any type of condolences for Melissa's death. No one has laid any of the blame on Alec.

Robert's done blaming himself.

This is Alec's fault. Not Robert's.



"This is all your fault, Robert," Kyle Maddock says, as he hovers in the shadows, watching the crocodile tears roll down Robert's face. "This is all your fucking fault."

Kyle came to town to be reunited with his family. He wanted to tell his sister that he was alive. He wanted to have the normal life that was taken from him years ago when Kevin Hanley targeted him for death.

But what happens?

He returns home just in time for his sister's funeral.

Killed by Robert's son. And Alec had been driven to this act by the abuse he received at his father's hands. Not that Kyle is taking the blame from Alec entirely. There's plenty of blame to go around.

Kyle leans against the wall, peering at the pew where Robert kneels, wishing he could walk over to him and bash his head in. But he can't. He needs to wait...wait until the time is right.

"Cry over Melissa all you want," Kyle says, through clenched teeth. "Your tears will stop once I'm done with you. Everything for you will stop."



HANLEY HOME

Vincent Moore sets a tray of food on the coffee table next to his mother before sitting on the arm of the couch. He runs his fingers through her hair and smiles, kissing her cheek.

"You didn't have to go through all of this, Vincent," Leslie says.

"I wanted to," Vince says. "Besides...it's all I can do. Other than be out there, looking for Akilah."

"You have to let the police worry about that. And Michael. He hired a private investigator to find her."

Vince scoffs. "A lot of good that will do."

"What's going on with you and Michael? You two have been awfully icy to one another lately."

"I'm just tired. All this stuff with dad...with Sean."

"I can't even think about that now," Leslie says, reaching for the cup of tea on the silver tray. "I think I'm going to stop by the police station and speak to Detective Grady again."

Vince nods. "That sounds like a good —"

He's interrupted mid-sentence by the doorbell ringing. Vince offers to get the door and hurries into the foyer, hoping against all hope that there's good news behind the door.

He opens it to find...nothing good. Nothing good at all.

"Hey Vince," Matt Holden says, standing timidly in the doorway with his father, Simon.

"What do you want?"

"We came to offer our condolences," Simon says. "Is Leslie inside?"

Vince looks at Matt with more than an expression of annoyance. He sighs and motions to the living room.

"Maybe a friendly face will help," Vince says. "You've always been a lot kinder than the rest of your family."

"Technically, our family," Simon says.

"Not for longer," Matt says, rolling his eyes.

Vince steps out of the way to allow Simon inside, but raises a hand to keep Matt from entering.

"You are not coming in here," Vince says. "After everything you did to my sister? Using her and dumping her like you did? She wouldn't want you to be here."

"She's not exactly here to say that now, is she?"

"I swear, just give me a reason to kick your ass, Matt."

Matt throws up his hands in defeat. "Don't bother. Just don't even bother." He turns around and trudges off. "Tell my dad I went home."



ALEC BALE & DARREN REYNOLDS' PENTHOUSE

"Here, have some water," Felicia says, pushing the glass toward her son.

Alec sits on a stool at the island in the kitchen, nursing the bruise on the back of his head. He obligingly takes the glass of water and drinks it.

"I'm sorry I freaked you guys out," Alec says. "I guess I just...fainted or something."

"That looked like more than fainting," Darren insists, rubbing his cousin's back. "You looked scared all to hell."

"I don't think it's safe for you to be here," Felicia says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alec says.

"Maybe you should think about moving back home?"

Alec sets down the glass and leaps up from his seat. He glares at Darren and Felicia wildly.

"Is that what this is about? You two trying to ambush me?"

"We're not having an intervention or anything, Alec," Darren says. "But...it's a..."

"It's part of your bail agreement," Felicia says. "You have to move in with one of your legal guardians. And seeing as how Robert —"

"I got it," Alec says. "It's like I'm a kid all over again. Even though I'm married and have a son of my own, it's like I'm some scared little reckless kid again."

"Alec, please —"

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna flip out or throw a glass," Alec says, heading toward his bedroom. "I'm just gonna take a nap. And then we can...deal with all of this later."



EMERALD PARK

Matt plops on a wooden bench and leans back, closing his eyes. He needs to clear his mind. Anything to keep him from getting pissed off at Vince, which would be easy enough to do.

But Matt knows all too well that reigniting a war with Vince is hardly in anyone's best interest right now.

He reaches into his jeans and digs out a bag of pot, followed by a tiny bowl in his opposite pocket. He quickly packs the bowl and lights it up, inhaling and exhaling enough to clear his mind. If only momentarily.

"Mind if I get a hit of that?"

Matt turns to see a blonde man, dressed in an immaculate white suit, standing next to the bench.

"I can pay you," he says. "Even buy the rest of you."

"Nah, I ain't a dealer or anything," Matt says. "Just take a couple hits."

"Cool, thanks."

The man sits next to Matt and takes the bowl, lighting it and inhaling a few hits of his own.

"What you doing out here this late?"

"Just getting away from it all," Matt says, almost laughing. "Some shit like that."

"Yeah, me too," the man says, grinning.

"Um...I'm not a fag or anything, if that's what you think," Matt says, rising to his feet.

"Neither am I."

"Okay, cool."

"What's your name?"

"Uh, Matt," Matt says, extending a hand. "What's yours?"

The man extends his own hand and shakes Matt's. He shakes his son's hand. "My name's Kyle."