Pamela's House. Los Angeles, California.

Mercedes can't recall when Colby awoke. She'd overestimated her ability to stay awake all night. The lure of sleep was too strong for her to hold out. She can't recall when her eyes fell closed or when her self consciousness snuffed out completely, drowning her into a deep slumber. She only remembers the piecing sting of Colby's fingernails as they dug into her arms—–shoving her off his chest—–and her startled squeak as her head banged against the hard wood of the headboard. She neither register the pain at the back of her head nor does she allow herself a moment to wallow in it. She only registers Colby's fuming gaze as he stares at her and the lack of concern on his face. His expression is more of confusion at first than anything else. Recollection then sets in, followed by regret and then a fiery flare of pure rage. She almost bolt out of bed in fright at the look, considering backing out of the plan she'd formed last night.

But she can't give up now. What is done is done. She has to face it. There's no turning back.

Pulling in a deep breath, she sits up and regards Colby with a look full of pain and incredulity as she rubs at the ache at the back of her head. "Colby, what's wrong? Why did you push me away like that?"

He doesn't answer her. He sits on the bed, his back to her, holding his head in his hands as he groans and moans pitifully. She doesn't move to get him a cup of water; even if she should. She has a tiny fraction of idea of what exactly he's going through but she has to follow her plans. It's the only thing she still has. Her plans. "How did I end up here," he mumbles softly, glancing uncomfortably around the room as if he hasn't been here a million times before. When a response doesn't sound in the quiet atmosphere, he glances back at her over his shoulder, his face set in grim lines. "How did I end up here?"

"I brought you here," she replies. "Don't you remember anything that happened last night?"

He flashes her a look which says she has gone mad, shaking his head frantically. He whisks away the blanket around his legs and jumps to his feet, snatching up his shirt on the floor nearby. He mutters something over and over while he shrugs into his shirt. "But how?" He doesn't spare her a glance as he asks, too busy searching for his remaining clothes.

"Colby, what's wrong? Why are acting like this?" She hugs the blankets around her shoulders, pulling every sort of innocence and fragility she can muster into her voice and face. His back and forth pace in her room momentarily makes her dizzy. "Colby, what's wrong?"

He turns around to face her, causing her to shrink back at the icy look on his face. Truth be told, she'd never expected he'll get this angry. "How did I end up here," his voice is dangerously low, "how did I end up here Mercedes?"

She hopes her look is as puzzled as possible, "That question again? What do you mean by; 'how did I end up here?' You're in my room Colby and I'm your girlfriend. You slept in my room last night and I don't think that requires any explanations from me. It's not like you don't remember what we did."

'What we did.' His mouth hangs open at the last words, jaws working but struggling to get a word out. He immediately takes his pants and starts pulling it up his legs, all the while shaking his dejectedly, as if he's just woken up to find his entire family died of a car crash. "What happened to me last night? Why is it. . . . that I couldn't feel anything in my body? Why did I get so weak all of a sudden? Why. . . . why did I feel so numb?"

She shrugs in bewilderment, "How would I know? I thought maybe you were tired so. . . ."

"You thought I was tired?" He shouts this time and if it weren't for the fact that he's staring daggers at her in this moment, Mercedes would've smiled. Exactly the reaction she wants in him. "I couldn't move. I couldn't do a thing. I couldn't walk. I couldn't move my hands. I couldn't even speak. I felt so dizzy and so numb and you didn't think something was wrong with me? How could you? How could you take such advantage of me?"

Mercedes sits upright on the bed, not caring if the blankets has fallen from her shoulders and onto the bed, leaving her exposed and naked. "'Took advantage of you?' How dare you say that to me, Colby? How dare you? Why would you think I would ever do something like that? You're my boyfriend. Is it a crime I had sex with you last night?"

"Yes, it is!!!" His yell echoes around the room, causing a chill to race down her spine. She only stares as he runs a hand through his mussed hair, breath nearly choking up when he speaks again. Mercedes can't ever recall seeing him this angry. Against all odds, she's hurt at the visible regret she sees in him. It seems all of a sudden he finds her repulsive and untouchable. She wants to slap him. She wants to shout things to his face. But she keeps her fury in check and focuses on what she needs to do. That's more important than any petty feelings she's experiencing right now. "I didn't mean it like that. Forgive me, Mercedes. I didn't mean to put it that way."

"No. I perfectly get what you meant to say to me." She holds back tears and clambers out of the bed, retrieving a simple, satin nightwear from her closet and covering up her nudity with it. "Out of the blue, I've committed a crime by sleeping with my own boyfriend in my own bed. How wonderful!! Am I going to get arrested yet?"

Colby doesn't appear fazed anymore by the tears running down her face or her arguments. "Stop with the silly sarcasm, Mercedes. What you did last night doesn't make sense. Whatever occurred last night doesn't make sense. The images are all fuzzy in my head and you. . . . how can you have sex with a person who can barely move at all? Didn't you sense there was something wrong with me? What other explanation is there than you taking advantage of my vulnerability and sleeping with me against my will?"

"Colby," she cries as she strides over to his side of the bed. She reaches for his hand but he jerks away as if she's a venomous viper that will sting him if given the opportunity. "I wasn't thinking. I didn't read much into your lack of response. I missed you so much. When I kissed you and you didn't resist. . . ."

"What was in the beer?"

"What?"

"What was in the beer," he repeats his question, looking at her with narrowed eyes as if he's seeing something he wasn't seeing before. "I was feeling perfectly fine all day. I didn't feel sick at all but after I drank that beer, everything changed. I started feeling dizzy and I couldn't move at all. What was in it?" There's a powerful edge to his voice as he shouts at her face, "What did you put in my drink, Mercedes?"

She takes frantic steps backwards, mouth falling open in disbelief at his blatant accusation. "I can't believe you, Colby. I can't believe you'll accuse me of drugging you and putting something in your drink. You've practically accused me of murder."

He grabs hold of her shoulders, a vise like grip around her arms as he shakes her. "Stop twisting my words!! I just want to know why I felt that way after drinking the beer and why you didn't have the sense to know something was wrong and you proceeded to have sex with me. For peace's sake, I was like a corpse lying in this bed. I can't understand why you would do that to me. And that beer. . . I want to know what was in it. You better tell me now, Mercedes."

"I don't want to hear any of this," she shouts and wriggles out of his hold with all her might. She doesn't wait for him to grab her again. Quickly turning around the doorknob, she storms out of the room like a flash of light, stumbling upon Pamela drinking a cup of coffee at the kitchen. She immediately races over to stand behind her friend, using Pamela as some sort of shield. The cup of coffee in Pamela's hands smashes into pieces as it tumbles from her hand, splattering coffee all over the floor. Pamela looks back at Mercedes with wide, confused eyes before turning her attention back to Colby, who is looking dumbfounded and indecisive. "There was nothing in that beer," Mercedes shouts on top of her lungs over Pamela's shoulder, hiding her face behind her friend, shaking vigorously. "I didn't do anything to you Colby. Believe me. Please don't hurt me."

Colby is completely taken aback, "Hurt you? I'll never hurt you, Mercedes."

"What's going on," Pamela inquires. Mercedes quickly throws herself into Pamela's arms, sobbing loudly. Pamela rubs her back soothingly and asks again with a voice full of concern, "Mercedes, what's wrong? What's happening here? And Colby. . . . hurting you. . . ."

Mercedes pulls back and replies amid sobs and cries, "Colby is accusing me of putting something in his drink. He's implying I drugged him and slept with him last night against his will. I've told him everything I know but he doesn't trust me."

Pamela radiates a stunned look on Colby, holding a sobbing Mercedes close to her side. "What's the meaning of this, Colby? Why would you think of such things about Mercedes? She has her faults but she'll never do any of what you're accusing her of."

"Then ask her," Colby retorts heatedly, pointing a finger at Mercedes. "Ask her why I felt that way. You're a doctor, right Pam? Does it sound normal that a healthy person as myself will feel numb and incapable of moving all of a sudden? I was perfectly fine when I arrived, wasn't I? You even hugged me and we chatted for a bit. Did I look sick to you?"

"No, you were perfectly fine when both of you arrived." Pamela admits, glancing back and forth between her friend still weeping and Colby.

"I wasn't sick. But as soon as I drank that beer, I started feeling weird and funny. I even complained that the beer tasted bitter than usual. Something went wrong last night and I just want to know what it is. I want Mercedes to also tell why she'd sex with me when I wasn't even responding at all. This whole issue is so confusing and I want answers!!"

"Still, you've no right to accuse Mercedes of drugging you. Perhaps the beer had expired or maybe that product was unsafe for usage," Pamela justifies. "There are a lot of possibilities and you have none other than accusing your girlfriend of drugging you? You aren't being fair, Colby."

Colby grunts in frustration, holding his hands up. "Fine. You have a point, Pam. There are a ton of possibilities, I get that. You're the doctor here, not me. Let's forget about last night. But I still need to speak with Mercedes. It's important. We were meant to discuss it last night but we couldn't for some reason I still don't know. Can you please leave us alone so we can talk, Pam?"

"No," Mercedes grips Pamela's arm, shaking her head ferociously. "I don't want to speak to him. I don't want to hear what he has to say. He was so angry earlier. I'm afraid he might hurt me, Pam. Tell him to get out of here."

"Mercedes, what are you saying? I'll never hurt you."

"I think it will be best if you leave right now, Colby," Pamela offers.

"But Pamela. . . ."

"Just leave," Pamela insists, hand cradling Mercedes's head as she cries. Mercedes turns her face away and cries harder once Colby snatches up his bag from the couch and walks out of the door. She hugs her friend tighter, a slight smile forming on her lips as her friend consoles and leads her to the couch. "Sit here," Pamela tells her before she dashes away to the kitchen. She returns with a glass of water, brushing strands of hair from her face as Mercedes takes a sip. "Calm down Mercedes. Everything is going to be alright."

"No," Mercedes objects, sobbing again. "He isn't just angry about the beer thing he's accusing me of. He's furious we had sex last night. He finds me repulsive now, Pam."

Pamela sets the cup of water on the table, "That's not true. Don't think like that. Colby can never find you repulsive. This is some sort of misunderstanding and I'm sure both of you will solve it very soon."

Mercedes turns up red eyes to her friend, whispering sadly. "Do you think Colby still loves me?"

Pamela manages her brightest smiles for her but Mercedes can see a small trace of uncertainty laced somewhere in the smile. "Of course, he does. Events over the past few weeks are still affecting him and that's the reason he reacted this way. You have to understand you two got back together two nights ago and he asked you two to take it slow. Sleeping with him like that when he wasn't feeling good wasn't right, Mercedes. You shouldn't have done that."

Mercedes sniffs back her tears, wiping them off his face. "I just assumed he was tired and you know there are times when your man doesn't feel like doing anything and it's up to the woman to get him in the mood. I pretty much thought that was the case. But I swear Pam, I didn't put anything in his beer."

"I know. I trust you," Pamela says in assurance, hugging her close. "You've no reason to do something like that. Nobody knows you like I do, Mercedes. You can do crazy things sometimes but you always turn back to the path of good. Just like when you took my advice and left Fergal. You're good Mercedes and I'll always stand by your side."

It was only at the mention of Fergal that Mercedes remembered she has a party to attend tonight and a friend she has to drag along; Pamela. She curses inside her head as she pulls away. Why can't everything be easy and smooth just like this morning? Try as she might, she still can't grasp why Fergal wants Pamela, above all people, to come with her to the party. He doesn't know her friend anyway. Mercedes highly doubt Fergal and Pamela's paths has ever crossed before so why the sudden interest? She can't wrap her head around it.

But whatever the reason may be, she doesn't want to disappoint Fergal or have any problems with him. Dragging Pamela along—–that is, if she manages to—–is a risk she'll have to take to further solidify Fergal's trust in her. She'll have to find a way to get Pamela to come along without any suspicion on her friend's part. She'll also have to find a way to introduce Fergal to Pamela without her friend knowing or even suspecting Fergal is her boyfriend. Then, she'll have to convince Pamela to leave before her so she can complete all her plans for the party. The chance of meeting Annette Quin is too big of an opportunity to slip through her fingers. She'll have to make plans. And fast.

'But now comes the hardest part,' she thinks, looking up at her friend with pleading eyes. "I need a favour Pam."

* * *

Quinn's Mansion. Los Angeles, California.

"Then he kissed me."

Rebecca wasn't expecting a perplexed look from Ashley. "Wait, what happened to not making promises and not wanting you to hope for anything with him? A kiss isn't a promise in words but it's still a promise nevertheless. There might be something he isn't telling you."

The last part is more of a question than a statement with the arched brows Ashley made after her words. Rebecca had assumed the same thing last night when she was reminiscing the encounter she'd with Colby at the Sports Club. She'd wondered what those problems Colby was referring to are but after much pondering, she finally decided it mustn't be anything worrying or a cause for doubt on her part for him. The scariest possibility is a debt his father may have left behind after his death. That won't be much of a problem though if only Colby will allow her to help him. But offering her help for such things may lead to an uncomfortable scenario where she might unintentionally paint Colby as incapable to solve his own problems. She wouldn't want Colby's family to think either that she's buying him if what they have grow into something serious.

The one thing she feared was his ex-girlfriend but he told her he hadn't gone back to with her. With that matter aside, she has no cause to worry or assume things which may turn out to be false in the end.

"I don't think so Ash," Rebecca tells her best friend, fighting to stay put in her chair. It's becoming increasingly difficult to as the seconds tick by. "I know Colby is keeping things from me but as long as those things aren't about his ex-girlfriend but about his family, I don't mind being kept in the dark. It's his family and yes, I do want to know what's bothering him to be able to offer him my help. But he wants to keep them to himself and he believes he can solve them. I'm certain if the problems get too much for him to handle on his own, he'll tell me. At the end of the day, this is just the beginning phase. In time, both of us will grow faith in us and tell each other things about our families. But for now, we're still trying to figure out where this will lead to."

Ashley gazes at her admirably, "You understand relationships so well Becks. I swear. Even after all that Jeff did before the wedding, you still. . . . you still found ways to defend him and the love you knew wasn't there anymore. It's because of that I don't want you to make the same mistakes with Colby. Whatever you two are going to have should be transparent and devoid of lies and deceit. I know I always tell you to fall in love but now that you are actually in love with someone, I don't want you to get hurt again Becks."

Rebecca just wish she can reach for Ashley's hands but her friend is sitting a little too far for that. Not to mention, her right hand is still in the grasp of the makeup stylist who is cautiously polishing her fingernails. Her left hand is neatly polished in a startling mix of sapphire, pink and silver colours, matching the colours of the gown she's to wear this evening for the party. She glances down at her feet, finding the other makeup stylist is in the process of completing the polishing the nails of her feet in the same blend of colours. "Colby wanted to be a wrestler for his brother and family but that didn't come true. To top it all off, he has lost his father recently. It's not hard to understand such a person Ash. I've never known what it is to be unable to fulfil a dream but I do know how it feels to lose a father. Which is why, I'll give him time to do whatever he needs to do. This will work Ash. I have a strong intuition this will."

Ashley rises from her chair to throw her arms around Rebecca's shoulders from behind. The makeup stylists pauses for Ashley to finish the hug and pull back before resuming their work. Rebecca catches a bit of irritation on their faces though. "I'm certain it will Becks. This Colby right from the beginning has shown he cares about you and you must admit whatever you conjured up about him weren't true at all. He kissed you yesterday after your talk. Which means he feels something for you as well."

Rebecca nods, unable to keep a smile off her face. "I think so.  Well, he hasn't said I love you yet. I'm still waiting for that but you're right. He does feel something for me and I think it's more than enough for me to give him a chance. Do you know what he also said to me?"

Ashley squats down beside her, eyes glinting with curiosity and mischief. "Don't tell me he asked if you had condoms at that moment?"

Rebecca laughs out loud, completely oblivious to the dirty look Fergal passed her way from the other side of the garden they were all sitting in. "You're so. . . . gosh, Ash. I would've slapped him at that time if he dared to suggest such a thing to me."

Ashley smacks her playfully on her left arm, keeping her touch gentle. "You're so boring, Becks. Okay, spit it out. What did he say?"

"He said; 'we'll be something Rebecca but for now I want to keep seeing your face everyday.' I swear Ash, I can't describe to you what I felt when he said that to me. I could really see he meant it too."

Ashley fans her face dramatically as she squeals, "That's so sweet. Colby is completely natural unlike that stupid Jeff who always made it seem like he'd rehearsed his words whenever he says something romantic to you."

Rebecca laughs again, whispering a quick word of thanks to the makeup stylists who parks their things and excuses themselves as they'd finished their work. Ashley draws a stool for Rebecca to place her legs on, waving the papers in her hands over the polished nails of Rebecca's feet for it to dry quickly. "I never noticed such a thing."

Ashley rolls her eyes, "Every word out of Jeff's mouth sounded fake ever since. . . . you know," she lifts a knowing brow at Rebecca. Rebecca nods and swallows, refusing to revisit that period in her life which is the cause of all the problems she'd with Jeff.

"Things really changed around that time, didn't it?" The question is more to herself than to Ashley. "Whenever I think of it, I can't help but realize how naive I'd been at that time."

"You weren't naive Becks. You were. . . . desperate. After everything that happened with the wedding postponement and the drastic change in your life, you thought; 'if I can't marry Jeff, then what will I do?' But as you can see, you found Colby and now look at yourself, you're in love again. You're glowing Becks."

Rebecca can't return her friend's exuberance or smile. Struck with the problem she has been ignoring ever since she fell in love with Colby, Rebecca can only wonder if her secret can cause a drift between her and Colby like it did with Jeff. 'Is Colby going to run away too? Will he continue to look at her the same way as before? Or will whatever he feels for her disappear like it did with Jeff?' "Do you think I should tell him tonight, Ash?"

"What?" Ashley wasn't listening to her, preoccupied with instructing the workers cutting the plants in the garden. The party will be held inside the mansion and although her mother has promised the party will be 'a few guests affair,' Rebecca can't say she trusts her mother when it comes to such things. Naturally, Ashley should be the one inside the house since she's the expert in event organizing and not her mother who only knows how to be manipulative—–in a good way—–and cunning in her business dealings. Ashley should be the one inside the mansion instructing the workers on where the vases should be placed, where the dessert table should be set and how to arrange the chairs the guests will sit on. But her mother doesn't even trust Ashley when it comes to this party.

She has been moving around all morning, yelling orders and checking on her every five minutes to make sure she doesn't have a scratch on her skin. Her dress was the only thing her mother left for Ashley to design but Ashley informed her three nights ago that even then, her mother had been breathing down her neck all day, rebuking her on every little mistake she made with the design sketch. Ashley then added with a light laugh that she wished she still had a mother to design or even select her dresses for her.

Rebecca hadn't found anything amusing about her mother's behaviour but she'd sympathized with her friend about 'the mother selecting dresses for her daughter' part. Despite her mother being overbearing and too overprotective, Rebecca can't imagine waking up one day and having no one to call a mother. Losing a father is more than enough for her. But for Ashley, she has lost both. In the manner of speaking.

"Ashley my dear," Annette calls out, sauntering her way over to them with a tray of water. Rebecca groans when she notices the pills beside the glass of water on the tray. "I want you to call the caterers and tell them to make another cake as soon as possible. They have only four hours to make sure it's ready and delivered to the mansion or I'm going to sue them for not living up to their promise."

"What's wrong with the one they delivered an hour ago, aunt Ann?" Ashley asks.

"They added vanilla to the cake they delivered. Rebecca is allergic to vanilla."

"How could they do that? I specifically gave them instructions not to add vanilla to the cake," Ashley bemoans, her phone already in her hand. "I'll give them a call and ask them to make another one. We only have nine hours until the party starts."

Annette waves her away, "You know what my dear Ashley, call another catering service that's capable of making the cake based on our instructions and delivered on time." Ashley nods and walks off, her phone close to her ear. Once she's gone, Annette turns her full attention on Rebecca, smiling sweetly. "Thank goodness I tasted the sample. I wouldn't have forgiven those idiots if something had happened to you. Have your medicines, my dear." Knowing she doesn't have a say in this, Rebecca takes the two pills from her mother and pops them into her mouth, gulping them down along with the water her mother offers her. "Good girl," Annette beams, patting Rebecca's hair like a little child. "Are your nails dry?"

"I think so," Rebecca holds up her hands for her mother to inspect, peering sideways at her feet resting on the stool.

"Beautiful," Annette praises, pleased with something for the first time since this morning. "You'll look stunning tonight, my dear. You'll be the star of the show."

A show. That's all her mother thinks this party is. Not an occasion to celebrate the day she came into the world but a function to please the curiosity of the media and have her apologize for something that's none of anyone's business in the first place. Not that she minds the real reason behind this party. She'll rehearse the speech Ashley mercifully wrote for her last night, cut the cake, smile for the cameras and be done with everything. Preferably sneak off to some place quiet with Colby afterwards. He's the only reason she is looking forward to this party. And he hasn't even called her yet.

"Heard you paid a visit to the Federal office last night," her mother's voice jerks her out of her thoughts. Her puzzlement is dimmed when she realizes her mother is addressing Fergal instead of her. Her brother doesn't look up at their mother, too occupied with whatever he is doing on his laptop but she notes the sudden, rigid posture in his spine. Other than that, her brother doesn't look surprised. Annette crosses her arms on her chest, continuing, "And here I was thinking you were at a business dinner."

"How did you know that," Fergal asks, still not glancing up at Annette.

Annette's smirk is humourless and dry as Rebecca's polished nails, "I know everything Fergal."

"You've been spying on me," he finally glances up, a blazing glower on his face, "and I don't like it one bit mom."

"Mom will never spy on you Fergal," Rebecca chirps in. "Think before you speak and show some respect."

Fergal turns his full glower on her, "Nobody asked for your opinion. Stay out of this Rebecca."

"For the last time Fergal, don't speak to your sister like that." Annette scolds, looking exasperated. "What were you doing in the Federal office last night?"

Fergal sighs loudly, shutting down his laptop. "I went there to make a case against a man who has been stalking and harassing my girlfriend for the past two weeks."

Annette frowns, "That wasn't what I heard."

Fergal smiles a little, getting up to his feet with the laptop to his ribs. "Oh, I'm sure that's what you heard mom."

"You have a girlfriend, " Rebecca asks with a laugh, already having recovered from her shock over hearing that her arrogant, annoying, self reserved brother has a girlfriend. A shock of the day indeed.

Fergal who was halfway inside the mansion reels back to his sister, "Now what's the problem?"

Rebecca shrugs indifferently, her voice taking on a sarcastic tone. "Nothing. I just thank God someone has finally captured your heart; a heart I never imagined was still there anymore. What a lucky woman she'll be. She'll have a husband who only comes home on holidays and leaves the morning after. I'm sure she'll enjoy waiting for you to come home only to receive a call from her darling husband that he has just booked a flight to Japan for a business conference. What a perfect family man you'll be."

"Rebecca, don't speak nonsense. No one is getting married here." Annette strongly reprimands, not appearing too comfortable with the idea of another wedding in the family. Rebecca can hardly blame her mother taking into account what happened with Jeff.

"No," Fergal counters, "I plan to marry her in the future. I've even invited her to the party so she can get acquainted with all of you." He looks pointedly at Rebecca, "You better be nice to her."

"Do I have a choice," Rebecca rolls her eyes, taking her phone from the pockets of the pyjamas she's wearing. Still nothing from Colby, her face crumbles in disappointment.

"Your brother has gotten out of control," Annette laments to her, watching Fergal's retreating figure inside the mansion.

"Fergal has been like this since father died. You just refused to see it mom." Rebecca was about to tuck her phone back into her pocket when the phone chirps, signaling a message alert. The number above the unread message is unknown, causing her frown to deepen.

'Hi. Thought you might be busy with preparations so I didn't want to call and bother you. How are you?'

Her heart lurches in her chest as her face breaks into a dazzling smile. She forces her fingers not to tremble as they type back to him;

'Hey there. I'm good. Eagerly waiting for my gift tonight.'

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Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to BrollinsFan. I know things have been difficult lately but know I'm always here for you. Love you!!