abandoned room near the docks

Luke knocked twice on the door, then twice again, motioning Sonny to leave his men to guard and follow him. "Babe? It's me, and I brought him with me just like you asked," Luke called softly.

After a moment, the lock turned and the door opened slightly. Sonny followed Luke in, looking around the dim, dirty room curiously; Luke had been stubbornly silent on their way here. All he'd been told was that a lady needed his help. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, a figure emerged from the darkness, a child on her hip. "Lucy!" Sonny exclaimed in surprise. He looked from her face to the baby girl in her arms and back again. "Lucy, I'm almost afraid to ask, but what's goin' on here?"

Luke brushed past Sonny impatiently, slipping his arm around Lucy's shoulders, dropping a comforting kiss on the top of her head. "Baldwin's what's goin' on," he growled, his eyes flashing fire. "If I get my hands on that no-good, two-bit, spikey-haired--" Luke broke off as Lucy made a distressed noise, covering Christina's ears.

"Not in front of Christina, Luke," she admonished. "You can call Scottie whatever you like later, but not in front of our daughter." Lucy turned to Sonny, holding the baby up to face him. "Sonny Corinthos, meet my daughter, Christina. Christina," Lucy bent her head to the little girl, who reached out and patted her mother's mouth with her small hands, "this is my very good friend, Sonny, who is going to help make sure that you and Mommy never ever have to be apart."

"Hey there, Miss Christina," Sonny said softly, his voice slightly wistful. After a moment he lifted his head. "You got a beautiful daughter, Lucy. And, I'm glad to meet her and see you. But I still don't know what the hell," he looked at Christina, "'scuse me, I'm doin' here. Or, more to the point, what you are."

Lucy turned her head to look at Luke. "You didn't tell him?" she asked.

"Figured it was your show, beautiful." Luke shook his head, brushing Lucy's hair back from her eyes gently. "It's up to you to decide what and how much to tell him. Not that I think Corinthos needed to be in this in the first place," he shrugged, "but that one was your call, Luce."

Lucy tilted her head towards Luke's, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "And you found him and brought him to me, just because little ol' me wanted you to. Thanks, old pal," she said softly, then handed him Christina. "Now, you take Christina, give her her bottle," Lucy nodded towards the diaper bag in the corner of the room, "and let Sonny and me talk."

Luke hesitated, holding the baby carefully, then sighed dramatically. "You know I can't deny you anything, darlin', when you bat your eyes at me all pretty. Gives me wicked thoughts," he leered, squeezing her shoulders lightly before stepping away. Luke glared at Sonny. "Don't screw this one up, Corinthos," he growled, then moved to a corner of the room, expertly settling Christina in his arms and tilting her bottle to her mouth.

Lucy followed them with her eyes, making sure all was well with her daughter before turning back to Sonny. Even with a dirt smudge on her cheek, her hair slightly disheveled, and panic badly hidden in her eyes, Lucy managed to smile at Sonny as if greeting him at the Nurses' Ball as she linked her arm through his. Sonny couldn't help but smile down at her, his dimples briefly showing. "Sonny," Lucy said, dignity in her tone, "I need you to get me and my daughter out of the country. As soon as possible. Will you help me?"

"You know you got my help whenever you need it, for whatever you want, Lucy," Sonny said, looking at her. "But you gotta tell me more than that. Why do you need to leave the country? Where's your husband? Did you--" he paused. "Lucy, did you do something?" he asked, gently.

"Her husband's the one who did somethin'," Luke snarled from the corner, unable to stay silent. "Luce, why'd you marry Baldwin the first place? I knew it was a bad idea, darlin'--"

"That doesn't matter now, Luke," Lucy cut in. "What matters is that Scott threatened to take my daughter away from me, and I am not going to let that happen. No way on this earth am I going to let that happen," Lucy said fiercely, turning back to Sonny. "Which is why I need you to help get us out of the country, Sonny, where Scott can't find us. I will not let anyone take my baby, not Scott, not anyone."

"Lucy, he can't just take your daughter away," Sonny said, slowly. "It doesn't work that way. Even if the two of you are splitting up, there'd have to be a custody battle, and no one can say you're not a good mother, Luce. He wouldn't win; he can't--"

"Yes," Lucy said, her voice starting to rise frantically, "yes, he can just take my baby away, Sonny, and he will. He's done it before." She reached up with trembling hands, tucking her hair behind her ears, as she made a visible effort to get herself under control. "On Christina's adoption certificate, one name is listed, and it isn't mine. According to the courts, I'm not her Mommy," Lucy's voice cracked, "and Scott can do whatever he wants. He can take her to Canada, take her away, and he doesn't even have to leave me so much as a note!" Lucy turned away, her fists clenched tightly.

Luke started to rise to go to Lucy, but settled down as Sonny slid his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, hey, hey," Sonny said softly, as Lucy turned in his arms to press her head against his chest, her shoulders shaking with the effort to keep her cries soft enough so as not to scare her child. "I'll help you, Lucy, okay? I'll do whatever you need me to do," he said, rubbing her back lightly. "You got a beautiful kid there; you shouldn't have to lose her. No one should have to lose their child," Sonny's voice dropped to a whisper.

Lucy lifted her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and reaching out to grip one of his hands tightly with both of hers. "I knew you'd understand. That's why I told Luke to find you; I knew you'd help us, Sonny." She walked over to Luke's side, reaching down to lift Christina into her arms, rubbing her back gently as the baby's eyes started to close. "Thank you. Thank you both," she turned to include Luke, her eyes filling again. "We owe you everything, Christina and I."

"Nah," Luke shook his head, "you don't owe me a thing, baby. You've saved my rear enough times; this is nothin'." Luke slid his arm around her again, looking at Sonny. "What now, Sonny?" he asked, his tone a little less grudging than it had been before.

"Nothing, until I get this worked out. You can keep Lucy and Christina safe and hidden for a couple more days?" Luke nodded. "Then just sit tight 'til I get back to you with details on how this is gonna work. Lucy," he reached out and touched her chin lightly, "no one is gonna take away your baby. I promise." Sonny gave Luke a long look. "I'll be in touch," he said, before turning on his heel and walking away.

"See," Lucy leaned her head against Luke's, tiredly, "I told you he'd help, Luke. Sonny's a friend. And, he knows what it is to lose a child, twice over. I knew he'd help me."

"Yeah, well, I still don't trust Corinthos," Luke grumped. "But, I'll give him this; he did come through for you. So far." After a moment, Luke slid his arm to the small of Lucy's back, turning her towards the door. "C'mon, beautiful, we gotta get out of here. If you and the kid have to wait a few more days, it's sure as hell not gonna be here; this was temporary at best," Luke looked disdainfully at the shabby room. "I got a hideout that you are just gonna love, Luce."

"As I recall, Luke," Lucy picked up Christina's bag, sliding it on her shoulder, careful not to disturb the sleeping child in her arms, "that's exactly what you said about this place." She slid her hand in his. "Lead on, pal. Wherever you're taking me certainly can't be worse."

Sonny's PH

"That's wonderful, baby; I'm glad you're having such a good time....no, no I don't think Aunt Dorian would let you take a baby cow home from Switzerland, no matter how cute it is. Tell you what; as soon as you get back home, you and me are gonna go to the pound and pick out a puppy dog of your very own," Blair smiled, holding the phone close to her lip as if the closer she held it, the closer her daughter would feel. "...I love you too, Starr. Give Auntie Dorian and Aunt Cassie big ol' sloppy kisses from me, okay?...I miss you, and I'll see you soon, honeybee. Love you, bunches and bunches!" She hung up the phone slowly, sitting back in the chair at Sonny's desk and closing her eyes tightly, her mind a million miles away -- or, rather, almost 4000 miles away with her daughter in Switzerland.

Blair was still sitting that way, a moment later, when her musings were interrupted by muffled sounds from outside the penthouse. Blair stood up, striding to the door as she heard someone shout out, "Corinthos! Corinthos, I know you're in there; I'm looking at your bloody guard!" followed by a muffled curse and what sounded like a struggle. She threw open the door, and stood with her hand on her hip, watching the usually unflappable Francis trying to pin a man very intent on not letting himself be pinned. Finally, as neither man seemed to notice her presence, Blair spoke up, her honeyed drawl in direct contrast to the murderous tone of her voice. "What in the hell is going on here?" she demanded.

The two men stopped their dance, turning to Blair; it was the intruder who spoke up first, more than slightly breathless. "All I want is to see Corinthos; this goon and I were just -- discussing whether or not he was in." The man smiled brilliantly at her, despite his torn shirt and overall disheveled appearance. He made a slight bow, his eyes widening appreciatively as he took in her appearance. "Jerry Jacks, at your service."

Blair regarded him a long moment, then looked over his shoulder at Francis. "It's alright, Francis; you can let him in."

Francis shifted uncomfortably, not quite meeting Blair's eyes. "Mr. Corinthos said--"

Blair's chin lifted and her eyes gleamed as she took a lazy, but very, very precise, step towards Francis. "Mr. Corinthos would be very, very unhappy if I were displeased, Francis," she said slowly, forcing Francis to meet her eyes. He backed down first, taking a step away from Jerry, as Blair had known he would. She flashed a quick, dazzling smile at Francis in thanks, and turned to Jerry, silently indicating that he was to come in.

Blair walked over to Sonny's wet bar, looking over her shoulder at Jerry. "Can I get you a drink Mr. -- Jacks, did you say?"

"Call me, Jerry, luv, and a scotch, neat, would be perfect." He took the drink when Blair handed it to him, raising it to her before he took a sip. "As much as I'd rather spend time in your company than his, the man I really need to see is Sonny. Is he here?"

Blair shook her head, pouring herself a drink and sipping it as she studied Jerry. "Sonny's out, and I don't know when he'll be back. I would ask you to wait, but since he and I just got back into town today," she nodded at the pile of bags and suitcases in the corner, "and I'm still feelin' my way around myself -- you understand?"

"Of course," Jerry grinned, sensing that beneath the sweet-as-honey smile and I'm-a-simple-housewife routine, this woman was a force to be reckoned with. "Maybe tomorrow would be better?"

She smiled, taking her own measure of the man in front of her. "I'll let Sonny know you stopped by; I'm sure he'd be more than glad to see you and talk about -- whatever -- tomorrow." Jerry stood up, placing his glass down and started to leave, and Blair called after him, "Mr. Jacks!," as she leant against the back couch and crossing her long legs in front of her. "I must admit to a little curiosity as to what an aging playboy on the run from the FBI for money laundering wants to do with Sonny, though," she said, sipping her scotch, her eyebrow cocked as she met his gaze, challengingly.

Jerry turned from the door, his eyes narrowing, but his smile never moving a millimeter. "Do I know you, Miss...?" he asked.

"Daimler. Blair Daimler. No," she shook her head, "you don't know me, Jerry Jacks, but I know you. You see, I used to run a newspaper, and you were big news not too long ago, you and your pretty little brother both. And, silly ol' me, I just never seem to forget a name or a face." Blair took another slow sip of scotch, her eyes never leaving his over the rim of the glass. "Doesn't seem all that smart for a man on the run to be pickin' fights with anyone, Francis, or me, or -- Sonny. Especially when one of those little names I've gotten stuck in my head somewhere is the name of the Police chief here in Port Charles. Mac Scorpio, wasn't it? Don't you and he know each other?" she asked, challenge vibrating in her voice.

"You are good, Ms. Daimler," Jerry said slowly, then laughed out loud as he looked Blair up and down again. "Very, very good. Too damn good for Corinthos, that's for sure. A woman like you deserves someone more challenging than the Rico Suave wannabe who leaves women broken behind him like a little girl's rag dolls," something dark flashed into Jerry's eyes momentarily.

"Oh?" Blair uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again deliberately. "And I suppose you think you're that 'someone challenging'?"

"Could be, luv, could be," Jerry looked at her, something smoldering in his eyes as his gaze caught hers and held. "I'll be back tomorrow, to see Sonny, if you want to stick around and find out." Jerry held Blair's gaze a moment longer, before slipping quickly out the door.

Blair stood up, starting to call Francis to go after him, then stopped. She stood a long moment, thinking, then walked quickly over to the phone, dialing a number she knew well. "Briggs*? This is Blair...long time, I know, but I need a favor. I need to know everything there is to know about a Jerry Jacks."

Courtland Avenue clinic

Jason looked at the clock, glowing green in the curtained off room; Carly had been out for more than three hours, and he hadn't moved from her side once. Most of the time, he'd held her hand, stared into her face, and tried to puzzle out what he was going to tell his wife when she woke up. Three hours after he'd first started trying to figure it out, he was no closer to an answer.

Jason ran his hands softly over her hair; she was just so still and pale -- not that that was all that different from how she was, even not drugged. Six months ago, Jason had never thought of Carly like this; the image he held of her in his mind was always of her doing -- moving, dancing, laughing, crying. It was never of her like this. Now -- now, this was Carly, more often than not. Curled up in a corner of the couch or of their bed, her mind gone to places where he couldn't follow. The only time Carly truly came alive anymore was with her son; with Michael, Carly became the mercurial, laughing creature she had been before, but only with Michael. Truth was, Jason had taken to bringing Michael in the room just so he could see the real Carly again -- communicating with his wife through her son. He knew it was wrong, using Michael like that, but he couldn't get through to her any other way, not even when they made love. The last time Jason'd tried to make her smile, just for him, had been the night he'd proposed to her.

He'd come in the living room to find her on the couch, a magazine in her hands on the same page it had been an hour ago. He had sighed, sitting down beside her on the couch, holding her to him. "Carly," he'd asked, "what do you want?"

She'd thought a long, silent moment, so long he'd thought she wasn't going to answer. Jason had been about to repeat the question, when she'd spoken up. "I want my family back again," she'd whispered, deep in her throat. And so, he'd asked her to marry him, even though they both knew that wasn't the family Carly had meant.

Carly stirred, her forehead creasing even in her sleep, and he sat up straighter, reaching over to take one of her hands in his. "Carly," he said softly, "it's okay; I'm here."

She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the room, and the IV, and Jason beside her. "Where's here?" Carly asked, her voice raspy with sleep.

"Courtland Avenue clinic," Jason answered. "You fainted, on the docks earlier, and -- ended up here."

Carly struggled up to a half-way sitting position, looking at the IV, and then back at her husband. "God, the drugs they're givin' me must be strong; I had some really -- strange dreams. 'Bout Jerry Jacks, of all people."

"It wasn't the drugs, Carly, or a dream. Jerry brought you in." Jason frowned, remembering the way he'd been looking at Carly, with a strange hunger in his eyes, when Jason had walked in. "I don't know what he's doin' here yet, but I'm going to find out."

"Okay," Carly said, little interest in her tone. She turned on her side, pulling her legs into her chest, her back to Jason. "Am I gonna be okay?" she asked him, still without much interest in her voice. "Jase?" she prompted, when he remained silent.

"Carly," he paused, then reached out, touching her hair lightly, "you're gonna be fine; the doctor said you were just tired, and stressed-out. And -- pregnant." He could feel Carly still under his hand. "The baby's fine, Carly; you and the baby are both fine."

Carly turned over slowly to face him, her eyes very big and her face even whiter than it had been before. "No," she whispered, shaking her head back and forth. "No, take it back. Take it back, Jason," she demanded, sitting up as she reached out to grab his shirt. "Take it back!" she sobbed, her fingers gripping him tightly.

"Carly," Jason said soothingly, his voice bewildered, trying to hold her as she struggled, "baby, did you understand what I said? You're pregnant; we're going to have a baby," he said, deciding as the words came out that for right now, they were true. He'd tell her later, when she could handle it, who's baby she was carrying.

"No, I can't be pregnant," Carly cried, her head pressed against his chest. "I can't have a baby, Jason. I hurt my babies; that's what I do." She sobbed as he held her, his arms tightening at her words. "Remember Michael when he was born? His heart, he almost died, and I couldn't help him. And, my other son--" she broke off, a fresh wave of tears starting. "I don't want to hurt anymore babies," Carly whispered, as Jason shifted, sliding on the bed beside her so he could hold her more fully.

"It's gonna be okay, Carly," he murmured, as her sobs started to quiet. "We're going to figure this out together, Carly; it's gonna be okay. You didn't hurt Michael, you didn't hurt the other baby, and you aren't going to do anything to hurt this baby," Jason tilted her chin so that she was looking at him, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Carly, I swear, everything's going to be okay."

*for you non-OLTLers, Briggs was Blair's right-hand man at the newspaper she spoke of owning, The Sun.

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