Previously…
– After learning that Tori had survived her surgery but her unborn child had not, a devastated Sarah and Matt called Zane to notify him.
– Molly and Brent were rescued from the burning car in the nick of time.
– Rosie’s showdown with her drug-dealing ex, Diego, came to a dramatic end when Diego shot himself in the head to avoid arrest.

“Brent… Brent, can you hear me?”

At first, all his muddled brain recognizes is that it is a woman’s voice. Then the other pieces begin to float together:

Brent… that’s me… Yes, I can hear you… Molly? Is that you?

The white room comes slowly into view, and with it, a face framed by dark hair.

“Molly?” he asks, startled by how much it hurts even to speak the simple word.

“It’s me,” the woman says, and within seconds, he sees that it is Claire Fisher. She wears a gentle smile on her tired face. “You’re okay.”

Brent swivels his head from one side to the other and back. He can now tell that he is in a hospital room. Claire is here, too. His throat hurts like hell. Everything else is fuzzy, except the sense that he has to make sure that Molly is safe.

“I need to find Molly,” he manages to scratch out, doing his best to ignore the pain.

“Molly is okay,” Claire tells him. “She’s in another room. The twins just went to see her.”

He lets out a deep exhale of tentative relief. They are in the hospital. Everything is okay. Images of being locked in that trunk, of smelling gasoline and feeling the heat of fire, rush back to Brent.

“I thought we were going to die,” he says, barely getting out the words before a powerful cough interrupts him.

“I know. But you’re both safe.” Claire touches a hand softly to his hair and smooths it. “You can thank Rosie. She’s the only reason the authorities got to you guys in time.”

Information continues to rush back into Brent’s brain, providing new but familiar context for everything that is going on. He is silent a moment as he lets it settle.

“So it was Diego Barrera,” he says, reducing his voice to a whisper in hopes of soothing his throat. “He wanted to take Caleb.”

Claire nods. “Caleb and Christian are safe, too. They were with Paula all night. And they just came by while you were asleep. They brought some more comfortable clothes for you to change into when you’re released.”

“What about Barrera?” he asks. “Did they get him?”

“He’s dead.” She pauses for a moment. “He shot himself when it looked like he was about to be caught.”

“Figures. He lived like a coward and died like one, too. But that means…”

“…this whole thing is over. Yeah.”

She squeezes one of his hands. Brent stares up at her, so grateful for her kindness and her care.

“I was so worried about you,” she says. “When you didn’t show up to dinner, I knew something was wrong.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have my phone…”

“I know. I understand. You have nothing to apologize for.” She gives him another reassuring squeeze. “I’m just glad that you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And then, out of nowhere but clear as day, Molly’s face is inches in front of his.

“My life has been so much better because of you,” she is saying. “You showed me what true love is. Brent, I… I will always love you.”

“I love you, too,” he tells her. “I always have. I always will. I’m sorry we couldn’t…”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Because we’re together now.” She scoots as close to him as she can, pressing their bodies together in the cramped space. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Claire says. She smiles at him, and suddenly Molly’s image is gone.

“I love you, too.” Brent holds onto her hand, but his head is swimming with confusion.

—–

Elsewhere in the hospital, Matt Gray eases the door to his daughter’s room closed with his hip. The space is deathly quiet, even with the occasional gentle beep of this or that monitor.

“Brought you this,” he says quietly. He holds out the paper cup in his right hand.

Zane Tanaka eyes it warily for a few seconds before accepting the coffee. “Thanks.”

Matt crosses to the other side of Tori’s bed, where he has been sitting in a chair, and sips his own sludgy black coffee.

“She open her eyes or anything?” he finally ventures to ask.

From his own chair across the way, Zane stares at Matt.

“Nope,” he says. “I’ve been waiting all night to see her eyes again.”

“Me, too.” Matt gazes down into the coffee for a lengthy moment. “I just wanna say, I’m sorry for the way all this happened–”

“Sorry isn’t going to bring back our daughter,” Zane says. “This is on you.”

“I know. I know…”

“Dad?” a weak voice asks, and both men’s attention snaps toward the bed, where Tori is barely stirring.

“I’m here,” Matt says, immediately on his feet and by her side. “And you’re awake. You’re awake.”

“Where am I?” she asks.

“You’re in the hospital,” Zane says. He is now stationed right at her other side.

Her brow furrows with confusion. “The hospital?”

“There was… an accident,” Matt says. “But the doctors say you’re going to be okay. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“An accident?” Again she looks to Zane. “Why are you here?”

“Your, uh–” His dark eyes flash to Matt. “Your parents called me.”

“Oh my god.” Tori’s hands fly to her stomach, still very rounded, as it has been in recent weeks. “The baby — did I…?”

Both men freeze, and finally their eyes meet.

“Where’s my baby?” Tori demands, growing frantic. “Did you already give it away? Give him away? Her?”

“Her,” Zane says, placing a hand on her arm. The attempt to calm her does little, as she thrashes her way to a sitting position.

“Try and relax,” Matt says.

“Where’s my baby?” she asks, even more distraught. “Tell me where she is!”

Matt bites his lip in an effort to fight the tears that have been welling up all through the night.

“Oh my god,” Tori says.

“She didn’t make it,” Zane says, his own voice cracking. “The car accident — it was bad…”

“No!” An anguished howl tears out of the young woman’s body. “My baby! Noooooo!”

The sight of his daughter in such pain causes Matt to lose control, too, and tears fall freely from the normally stoic man’s eyes.

—–

“Shoot me!”

The scream has been ripping across Rosie Jimenez’s mind all night. Now, with the morning light coming in through the front window of her small apartment, it has faded only a touch; last night is beginning to seem like some horrible nightmare, but a nightmare so vivid that she might never shake it.

Again the sound of the gunshot blasts through her head. She can see, so clearly, Diego’s body sprawled lifelessly on the ground, with a horrific amount of red spreading from beneath him.

A firm trio of knocks on her door — knock, knock, knock — pulls her halfway out of the memory. She goes to the door and looks through the peephole.

“What are you doing here?” she asks as she opens the door to Travis Fisher.

“My mom told me what happened,” he explains. “I thought I’d have a better chance of seeing you if I came by without texting or calling.”

“Probably,” she admits, ushering him inside and shutting the door.

Travis looks her up and down. “I’m so glad you’re okay. And that guy — Diego — he’s dead. Right?”

Rosie nods stiffly. Travis watches her, clearly expecting her to sigh with relief or something.

“That means this is over,” he prompts her. “This nightmare — it’s done. You can move on with your life.”

“Yeah.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He cuts off whatever he is about to say next and takes an even harder look at her. “Rosie, what’s wrong?”

“He shot himself in the head,” she says, turning partly away from him. “Right in front of me. I thought he was going to shoot me — and I was ready for it–”

“But he didn’t. You’re okay.”

“I watched him pull the trigger, and something — it was like it splattered, and he slammed into the pavement…” She shudders. “Dead. Just like that.”

Travis steps around so that he is once again in front of her. “Diego was a shitty person. He’s the reason your dad was killed, and he tried to kidnap my cousin, and then there’s all the people who got caught up in his drug-dealing bullshit. This is not some terrible tragedy.”

“I know. I know that.” Yet she has no idea what she is supposed to feel, or how to make herself feel it. “It’s weird. That’s all.”

“I get it.” He places a hand on each of her shoulders. “He was someone you cared about once upon a time, even if he took advantage of that and hurt you and your family. So it’s weird to see him die like that. Is that it?”

“I guess.” She finally meets his gaze. “I can’t believe it’s really over.”

“It’s over.” Travis rubs her shoulders. “It’s over, and you’re safe, and I’m here.”

“It’s over,” she repeats breathlessly.

“And I’m here.” He pulls her nearer and wraps his arms around her. “Everything else, we can figure out later.”

“Yeah. Okay,” she says, suddenly overcome by exhaustion as she leans into him, feeling his chest against her cheek. Until this moment, she hadn’t let herself acknowledge just how much she missed this.

—–

“It is so good to see your faces,” Molly Taylor says from her hospital bed, which has been raised so that she can sit up more comfortably. She knows that she must look like a fright, and her voice sounds as if she managed to pack decades of smoking into a single night, but her utter joy at being safe and relatively healthy is making all of that seem irrelevant at present.

“We were really worried about you and Dad,” Christian tells her. “It was scary.”

Caleb stands back behind his twin brother.

“Sorry for everything that happened,” he says. Each syllable sounds torturous for him to get out. “I never had any idea it would turn into something like… like this.”

“I know that,” Molly says. “And so does your dad.”

“If Jasmine had told me…” Caleb shakes his head, and his swoop of dark hair flops accordingly.

“I don’t think Jasmine had any idea what she was getting into, either,” Molly responds. “Which is why none of us should be meeting drug dealers in parks, or anywhere else, in the first place. Can we at least call that a lesson learned?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Christian says.

Caleb grumbles his agreement, too.

“I’ve been waiting to hear that voice,” someone says from the doorway, and they all turn to see Conrad Halston standing there.

“You knew it was me and not a 90-year-old chainsmoker?” Molly says.

“If that’s the biggest problem we have to face this morning, I think we’ll be okay,” Conrad says as he steps into the room. “I was so worried about you.”

“You’re right. It could be a lot worse,” Molly says.

Christian turns to Caleb. “Wanna go get some food?”

“The food here is gross,” Caleb says.

With a roll of his eyes, Christian elbows his brother. “We should go get some food.”

“Oh. Right.”

The twins shuffle out of the room.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” Conrad tells Molly. “I went home to take a shower.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she says. “I can’t believe you even came last night, after…”

“After we had a disagreement about my ex-wife and your brother? That’s so unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I’m sorry that it ever became an issue.”

“So am I.”

“How do you feel?”

“Terrible,” she admits. “But the doctor said my respiration looks good, my oxygen levels are fine… I just need to rest and recover.”

“Well, I’m here to do whatever I can to make that easier for you,” Conrad says. “I care so much about you, Molly. When I thought I might lose you…”

He trails off and takes her hand in his.

“I hated that thought so much,” he finishes.

“I’m going to be fine. Thank goodness,” she says, offering him a smile, even though she feels an involuntary cringe inside — because looking at Conrad seems totally different after what she and Brent shared last night.

—–

Sarah Fisher Gray’s body is weary with exhaustion as she moves through the lobby of the hospital. Activity bustles all around her: wheelchairs being pushed, phones ringing, groups of people huddled together. It all just seems like so much. Aside from a few minutes of sleep that she caught in a stiff chair in Tori’s room, she has been up all night; having to pick up Billy from Alex Marshall and Trevor’s to drop him off with Paula nearly zapped the remainder of her energy. But she is grateful to be back to sit vigil over her daughter, even if she is dreading having to tell Tori about her baby’s fate.

She stops when she sees Jake and Mia waiting for an elevator. Her first instinct is to hang back and avoid the encounter, but there are too many emotions, too many words, brimming inside her for that to happen.

“Guys,” she says, picking up her pace to reach them. “Any news on Marcus?”

Jake regards her with a tight-mouthed shake of his head, while Mia knots her hand together with worry.

“No,” Mia says. “He hasn’t woken up yet. They’re still calling his condition critical.”

Sarah’s stomach sinks. “I am so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Jake says. “Which is more than I can say for my brother.”

“Matt never intended for any of this to happen,” Sarah says, pushing down her own annoyance at her husband in light of the circumstances. “All he wanted to do was protect Tori.”

“And our little boy is paying the price for it,” Jake replies through gritted teeth.

The elevator dings, and Mia grabs her husband’s arm.

“We need to get back up to Marcus’s room,” she says.

“Please let us know if there’s any news,” Sarah calls after them, but all she receives in response is a gruff stare from her brother-in-law before the elevator doors close. She feels her heart twisting with anguish for what Jake and Mia are going through, especially because she knows that, no matter how much she defends Matt, she will never be able to convince them that he didn’t kick off this chain of events.

She closes her eyes right there by the elevators and says softly, “Please, please let Marcus be okay.”

—–

Tori’s sobs, so full of heartbreak and agony, stretch well beyond the four walls of her small hospital room for minutes on end. Matt waits nearby in pain, offering the occasional murmur of consolation, but he can hardly even tell if she hears him.

“This is all because of what you did,” she finally snaps at him.

Matt has thought all night about what he would say to her when this moment came, but now that it has, he is stricken speechless.

“I wish I could go back… leave that text in your phone,” he says. “I know it wasn’t worth it. None of this was.”

Tori sniffles hard. “You wanted to play God, and look what you did. I hate you!”

“I’m still your dad. I love you, and I’m here for you,” Matt says. “I know nothing can change what happened, but I’ve always, always wanted what’s best for you.”

“No, you wanted what was best for you. I can’t…” Tears overtake her again.

“Why don’t you give her some room?” Zane says. “You’re upsetting her.”

Matt stares at them incredulously for a moment; Tori is clinging to Zane and crying as if none of Zane’s transgressions ever happened. But he also knows the younger man is correct.

“I’m gonna go get a nurse,” Matt says, and he dips out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights and white walls seem to be spinning around him, and he cannot imagine life ever going back to normal now.

—–

“I feel like a human being again,” Brent says as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Well, for the most part.”

“You just need to take it easy,” Claire replies. “But if everything checks out, you should be out of here in a few hours.”

“I can’t wait.” He chances a step down from the bed, with his natural foot first and then his prosthetic, and finds that putting weight on his legs feels perfectly okay. “But for the time being, I’m going to attempt to use the bathroom.”

“That seems like a good first step. Do you need any help?”

“Nah. But did you say the boys brought me other clothes? I’d love to get out of this gown.”

“They’re in the bag on the windowsill,” she says. “You go use the bathroom, and I’ll bring them to you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He hobbles toward the bathroom and closes the door. Claire crosses to the windowsill and pulls a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt from the bag. And that’s when she sees it.

The small, velvety black box would be impossible to mistake. She understands at once what it is.

She reaches into the bag, then stops herself. It feels like a violation to peek. And yet…

She picks up the box and flips it open. Inside, a diamond ring sparkles.

Claire draws in a sharp breath. The sight fills her with joy.

“You were going to propose last night,” she says quietly, as she cranes her head to look back at the closed bathroom door.

After allowing herself another glance at the ring, she carefully closes the box and returns it to its place in the bag. But she is unable to forget the sight of that beautiful ring — or what it means for her and Brent’s future together.

END OF EPISODE 977

Will Brent still go through with the proposal?
Can Rosie forgive herself and move forward with Travis?
How can Tori ever get past this tragedy?
Talk about it all in the comments below!