Ch 18. Almost

The Penthouse

His breathing was steady and regular, his heartbeat a consistent rhythm that reverberated like a drum through her, his warmth heated her flesh where their bodies still touched, still connected in a way that made her feel something she hadn't felt since she had been in high school.

Peace. She wondered idly how many people valued this feeling and doubted there were that many who truly knew what a blessing peace was. What was it someone had once said? You can only truly value love after having known loneliness. She imagined that the same was true about peace. Only those who had lived with violence, lived with hatred, lived at war for such a long time could truly appreciate what it meant to be free of those feelings, of those thoughts, for even a few minutes.

Peace. She had thought the feeling lost to her forever. How ironic then that it should be returned to her, however momentarily, by a man whose world was as violent and bloody as her own.

Sarah closed her eyes and pressed tighter against Jason, determined to block the rest of the world from their sanctuary for just one second longer. She sighed as she felt him move and shift, breaking the connection between them.

"We should go." The words were soft and she could feel his breath caressing her. For a second, just a second, she let herself ache for the words that didn't come, the soft whispers that lovers indulged in. The words that meant that what you shared wasn't solely of the body.

What did you expect Sarah? She whispered to herself. Jason isn't interested in you like that. You practically had to beg him to make love to you. And even if he were, you can't afford that kind of entanglement. Not now. She could feel the change in her thinking, the stiffening of her pliant limbs as her training returned, bringing with it her usual detachment and control. Focus on the mission. Focus on Kosokov. Focus on rescuing Emily.

Forget the man beside you. Forget the things he made you feel. Forget what it felt like to touch him, to have him touch you. Forget that soul shattering moment when you cried his name as if you had just been reborn. Forget the fact that you want nothing more than to feel that way again.

Her eyes turned dark. She'd gotten her wish. She'd wanted, no needed, Jason's touch to obliterate, to destroy, the memory of Kosokov's hands pawing all over, of his moving. The question now was how was she going to exorcise Jason's touch from her memory. She had a feeling that she would never be able to forget the last half hour.

With a coolness that was betrayed by the tremor in her voice, she rolled gracefully out of the bed and reached, her nude form bathed in the dawning light, for the robe that hung on the bedpost. "We can't move until Jagger gets back," She kept the words casual, refusing to look at him, not realizing that her refusal to meet his eyes was as revealing to him as anything he might have discerned in their blue depths. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Sarah." She stopped and turned to look at him. She waited for him to say something, anything, and when he didn't; she turned to continue to make her way to the shower. Just as she reached the bedroom door, she turned back to him. Hating the uncharacteristic shyness that took a hold of her, hoping he wouldn't notice the blush she was sure stained her cheek, she nonetheless looked at him with eyes that were as strong as her movements were determined. "Thank you."

The whispered word hung in the air as she disappeared behind the door and Jason was left alone to cope with his own confusion. He'd meant to make love to her. Meant to wipe what Kosokov had done to her out of existence.

It had turned out to be so much more than he had imagined and exactly what he had fantasized about since the moment he had seen her standing there in the balcony of the church. He'd wanted her like nothing and no one he had ever wanted before.

He had loved Robin once. Loved her with everything that he had and had been devastated by what he had seen at the time as her betrayal. Time had shown him the truth of that statement. Robin hadn't betrayed him by telling AJ. When it came right down to it, telling AJ hadn't been a betrayal on Robin's part so much as it had been something she had needed to do in order to be true to herself, true to the Robin he had known. Funny how the things he had loved most about- her honesty, her integrity- had been the things that eventually caused a gulf between them too wide to breach. He sighed.

Robin and he had made their peace years ago and she was happy in her new life. It had been hard, but they had finally both come to understand that Robin's light couldn't survive in the shadowed world he existed in.

As for Carly, Jason felt the familiar pang at the thought of her. He missed her. She'd been his friend and Jason had learned long ago to value the friends he had for the gift that they were. They'd been lovers. They'd been parents together. And he had loved her. He just wasn't in love with her. He'd had love with Robin. He'd had passion with Carly. With Sarah, it had been something that almost transcended both of those feelings.

He'd lost himself in her in a way that he never had with Robin. Maybe he had grown up since Robin and was more capable of giving himself to someone. He didn't know the whys. All he knew was that what had just happened in this room had shaken him to his core. And left him wanting more. So much more.

Which was insanity in itself. Sarah was a killer. Okay so that argument pretty much tanked when he considered what he did for a living. Still, Sarah was blackmailing him, holding his son hostage so she could kill a man.

A man who had raped her. Who had stood by and watched as others raped her. A man who was responsible for the deaths of her parents. A man who had destroyed an innocent young girl. The ironic thing in all of this was that Jason would never have been this strongly attracted to the Sarah Webber who had lived in Port Charles before. He might have thought her pretty on the surface, but underneath he would have seen her as insipid. Dull. Boring. It was the Sarah Webber that Kosokov had created that he wanted. That confidence. That strength. That fearlessness. That boldness. All of those things made him want her.

But it was her vulnerability that left him needing her. He leaned back heavily against his pillow, staring at the random pattern of cracks in the ceiling. He'd wanted to kill Kosokov, not because the man deserved killing, not even for what he had done to Cassadine and what he could do to Emily. He wanted to kill the man for what he had done to Sarah. He wanted to destroy the person responsible for the hint of sadness that was ever present in those blue eyes.

He closed his eyes and remembered what it had felt like to make that sadness disappear if only for a few minutes. To feel again that surge of something that had swept over him as he had made love to her. He'd wanted her. He'd needed her. But it had been something more than either of those emotions that had burned in him when they had touched, when he had felt her warmth surrounding him, causing him to feel things he had stopped feeling a long time ago.

It hadn't been just sex. Not on his part. And not on hers either.

But that was just a theory. Or maybe wishful thinking. All he knew was what she had told him. It hadn't been because she wanted him. Or at least that had been part of it, but not the only reason. She'd used him. He knew it and it hadn't bothered him. Not during the act anyway. But afterwards…lying there next to her, he'd felt an ache that he was unaccustomed to take hold of him. So he kept it professional like she had wanted it. And she had kept it professional too. Which was fine, right? It was exactly what he wanted.

Whatever emotions had been awakened would by necessity have to be stillborn, dying before they had ever had the chance to take root.

Even as the thought formed, Jason knew it was too late. Had been too late for a long time. Damning himself for his weakness, Jason pulled his clothes on and silently began to dress.

The Docks

Jagger stared into the muddy water of the Port Charles River, willing himself to stem the rising tide of impatience that was sweeping over him. The fear that was pulling at him whispering that he should be doing something, anything, to find Emily.

They were going to find Emily. He refused to even contemplate any other outcome. He could lose Emily to a happy suburban life in some house with a white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a dog named Rover. He would not lose her to Kosokov.

He heard the footsteps approach but kept his gaze focused on the water in front of him and the island at a distance, the island where Stefan Cassadine was waking to the news that his beloved son and heir was dead. Another reason for Kosokov to die. Jagger hadn't liked the prince too much. Okay he had downright hated the bastard for what he had done to Emily and for the fact that Cassadine could contemplate what he didn't have the right to even think about- a future with her. But Cassadine had died trying to protect Emily and for that he had earned Jagger's respect.

Jagger took a deep breath as he felt the coil of fear in his stomach unwind and spread itself through his body. His fingernails dug into his palm as he welcomed the momentary pain to keep the darkness of his thoughts at bay.

He heard the footsteps get closer still but he kept his gaze focused on the water.

The voice, when it spoke, was calm and controlled but Jagger knew it well enough to pick up on the deadly undertone. This was a man who could kill you as easily as he smiled at you. A man whose participation in the Consortium was so hidden that not even those closest to him knew who he really was or what he was capable.

Jagger figured that even if they knew the truth they wouldn't believe it.

He hadn't until a particularly bloody mission in Panama had convinced him otherwise.

"What happened?"

Jagger sighed. "Things went wrong." Even Jagger himself winced at the understatement.

"Wrong? Nikolas Cassadine is lying on a slab in the morgue with a whole in his chest. I think that's a little more than just wrong." A pause and Jagger could smell the scent of cigarette smoke. "If I'm going to clean up this mess I need to know what happened. All of it."

"Kosokov happened. His men killed Cassadine and kidnapped Emily Quartermaine." Jagger recounted how Emily and Nikolas had become entangled in the plot to get Kosokov.

"Damn it. I told the council he should have been eliminated in Europe. It was a mistake to think we could do this here in Port Charles without others being involved. Now instead of a dead madman the heir to one of the most powerful families in the world is dead and the daughter of one of the most powerful families in the country is missing."

"We'll get Emily back." Jaguar's voice was tense, the emotion in it clear enough for even a deaf man to hear.

The man shook his head. "No. You and Webbed are out of it. It's time to let someone else take a crack at Kosokov. You and Webber are too personally involved in this."

"No way. No f**kin way. Kosokov is mine. Ours."

"Which is why he's probably on a plane to Europe as we speak."

"Bastard."

"It's what's kept me alive." The man's voice was cool. "That and my instincts which are screaming at me that its time we switch gears and try another approach to get at Kosokov. Considering the fall out from what's happened here in Port Charles it shouldn't be hard to convince the council that another approach is needed."

"To hell with the council and to hell with you if you think you are going to stop me from going after Kosokov now. The right to kill that bastard is mine and Sarah's. We've been through too much to back out now."

"It's what you've been through that worries me. Webber's involvement in this has always been questionable but we've always felt reassured that you were there to keep her in check. Now it appears that you're ability to maintain perspective is in doubt.."

Jagger turned to face him. "You pull either of us off this and it won't stop us. We'll go after Kosokov on our own."

"The Consortium can stop you."

"You can try." Jagger agreed. "But we both know that Sarah and I are your best agents. You can try but you won't be able to stop us."

"Without your little toys?"

Jagger shrugged. "I'm pretty sure that Morgan can get his hand on anything we need and considering Emily is his sister....."

Silence. Then a deep sigh. "I'm going to regret this. Hell I already regret this. But you and Webber have 72 hours. That's it. Not one second longer." A pause. "But no matter what...and I mean no matter what in 72 hours you and Webber are out and we get Kosokov some other way."

72 hours. If Kosokov took Emily to Europe it would be at least 12 hours in a plane and.... He nodded. "Seventy-two hours." Jagger began to walk away.

"Cates."

"Yeah."

"Good luck." Jagger nodded and disappeared into the darkness.

The man took a drag on his cigarette and then crushed it underneath his shoe. What a mess. What a bloody mess. He wasn't looking forward to the next 24 hours. A part of him almost envied Cates and Webber, he'd rather go after Kosokov himself than face Stefan Cassadine. Or Laura. He winced at the thought of adding to Laura's pain. How could he tell a woman who had lost one son that she had now lost another?

After straightening his shoulders, Mac Scorpio headed silently back to his office.

Someplace

Emily wrapped her arms around her knees, the tears flowing softly as she took in the almost total darkness that surrounded her.

Come on Emily. You can handle this. Just pretend you're back at Ferncliff again. So it's dark. So you're in some kind of cell. Remember all the time you spent in the isolation ward. The doctors at Ferncliff thought that spending time alone with your own thoughts would help you "get in touch with yourself." You survived that.

Think of the good things. She closed her eyes as an image of Nikolas dying burned itself on her brain. She shook her head. Good things Em. Good things. Not the last few years. But earlier. When she was younger and life was...simpler. Remember running away with Lucky. Remember dancing with Nikolas at his father's Bacchanalia. Remember sitting in Lila's Rose Garden. Remember the first time you called Alan dad. Or Monica mom.

Think of the good things. She breathed deeply. Jagger. Remember how it felt to be held by him. Remember his kiss. Remember all of it. Every moment.

Jagger would rescue her. Jagger and Jason. They wouldn't let anything happen to her. She believed that. She had to believe that. All she needed to do was to stay alive until they got here.

The noise from the other side of the cell brought her head up with a jerk. Emily looked around trying to find some kind of weapon, something she could use to defend herself.

Then the noise came again and she realized that what she heard was someone moaning.

Moaning as if they were in pain.

Emily gulped and moved forward. "Hello."

No response. What she wouldn't give for a flashlight. The figure moaned again and Emily scurried forward a little more until she was only a few feet from the figure. In the shadows, Emily could discern that whatever or whoever it was was obviously suffering by the way they were clutching themselves.

Another victim of Kosokov's. She shivered. Or maybe an example of the kind of twisted games Kosokov played. A way of getting at her.

The figure moaned again and Emily realized that she was too much her parent's daughters to not do something.

Cautiously, ready to flee any second, Emily approached the figure.

And stopped. Her face pale with shock. Her voice cracking as it whispered one single word.

"Lucky?"
To be continued.