Chapter Four: Meetings
couple days later
Alexis marched into Luke's, Scott following slightly behind her. She turned to glare at him, then pointed at the bar. "Sit." Scott sat. "Stay." Alexis walked up beside him, then looked at Scott as he started to say something. "Don't speak." She turned back to the bar, signaling Claude over with a motion of her hand.
Claude approached warily; anyone with the last name Cassadine, even the lady lawyer who called herself Davis, scared him. "What can I get ya?" he asked, neutrally.
Alexis took a deep breath. "Vodka, chilled if you have it, for me. Black coffee for him," she jerked her head towards Scottie, sensing him bristle and not much caring. She turned the shot glass in her hand as Claude placed in front of her, then looked up at him. "If he's very, very good, after I leave, he can have one drink. But, if he annoys you, feel free to throw him out on his rear; I'll represent you in an assault suit, free of charge."
Claude looked from Alexis to Scott and back to Alexis again. He started to say something, then walked away, shaking his head. Alexis paid little attention, lifting the shot to her mouth and draining it in one smooth motion. She put the glass back down on the bar, and turned to walk away, headed towards Luke's office. After a moment, she whirled on her heel, walking back over to Scott and slamming her purse down on the bar. "What do you expect me to say?" she demanded, looking at him. "You want me to just storm into his office and demand to know where Lucy is? When you don't even know that Luke knows anything whatsoever about this?"
Scott watched Alexis silently for a long beat. Slowly, he spoke. "Am I allowed to talk now?" he asked, with a lift of his eyebrow.
Alexis paused, taking a breath of her own. "If you must," she said, grudgingly.
Scott gave a small mock-bow. "Thank you, your highness," he muttered, under his breath. "Look, Davis, you've got a pre-existing relationship with Spencer," Alexis snorted, but Scott ignored her and went on. "Use it. Charm him, yell at him, coax him. I don't care what the hell you say to the bastard, just make him tell you where my wife and daughter are!"
"That was extremely helpful, Scott; thank you for your input," Alexis snapped, then ran her hands quickly through her hair. She looked at Scott again. "Remind me why I'm pulling your butt out of the fire, again?"
"Because I'm paying you extremely large and exorbitant amounts of money," Scott retorted. He paused for a moment, then added, his voice quiet. "And because no matter how much of a bastard I am, my daughter and Lucy both deserve better than a life on the run."
Alexis met his gaze for a long moment. "Okay," she said softly, then turned to leave, only to be stopped by Scott's hand on her arm. She turned back to him. "What, Baldwin?"
Scott slid a picture across the bar. "Give him this." Alexis picked it up, looking at the smiling girl with white-blonde hair, clutching a fishing pole in one hand an, Scott standing at her shoulder, his arm slung around her. "To give to Lucy. Just a reminder of what she's giving up."
Alexis looked from the picture to Scott and nodded, slowly, then turned and walked away, around the bar to Luke's office. She paused, outside his office door, taking a deep breath. Then, in one quick motion, Alexis opened the door and stormed in, slamming it behind her. She stood, facing a startled Luke, her hands on her hips. "Where is Lucy Coe-Baldwin, Luke?" she demanded.
Luke looked at her across his desk, the glass in his hand half-arrested by her entrance. Slowly, he completed his motion, lifting the glass to his mouth, then raised it to her. "Natasha," Luke drawled, "been a while since I got to play with you. I've missed you baby," he leered, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on his desk.
Alexis sat down in the chair facing Luke, her back straight. "I wish I could say it was mutual, but I don't like to begin negotiations by lying," she leaned back casually in the chair, crossing her legs.
"Negotiation'?" Luke asked, eying her carefully, feeling the adrenalin start to rush. Evading the PCPD was nothing; evading Alexis was something altogether different. "That what we're doin', Princess? Sounds kinda sexy," he grinned at her grimace. "How's it work?"
"It's very simple," Alexis spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child. "You have something my client wants; we sit here until we can come up with terms that can get my client what he wants, and make you happy, all at the same time. Simple," she smiled, ingeniously.
Luke leaned forward, his eyes flashing in amusement. "I've got somethin' you want?" he smirked. "Oh, Tasha, why didn't you tell me that sooner, baby? We could've saved a hell of a lot of time."
"Luke!" Alexis looked at him, shaking her head. "Is your mind always in the gutter? Never mind," she held up a hasty hand. "Don't answer that." Alexis hesitated a moment, then slid the picture Scott had handed her earlier across Luke's desk wordlessly.
Luke studied the family photo for a long moment, before lifting his head to regard Alexis impassively. "Hookin' up with Baldwin," he shook his head. "Always thought you had better taste than that, 'Lexi." He folded his arms, his gaze opaque.
Alexis watched him, incredulous. "Is that all you have to say?" she demanded. She leaned forward, across the desk. "Let me remind you, Luke, that if Scott goes to the police, Lucy will be charged with kidnapping, and you will, quite possibly, be charged as an accessory. So far, I've advised my client not to go to the police but, Luke, that was on the assumption that we could come to some arrangement." He glowered at her, and Alexis banged her fist down on his desk. "Damn it, Luke! This is a man who wants to be with his child and his wife; he made a mistake and he knows that. I would think you, of all people, would understand that."
Luke stood up, furiously moving around his desk, scattering papers in his wake. He bent down over Alexis' chair, his eyes flashing. "Don't you dare play the dead kid card with me, Princess!" he growled. "And, don't ask me to have sympathy for Scott Baldwin!" He looked her up and down scornfully. "This what you do now, Alexis? Your life is so empty since Jax ran off with the barbie-doll, Ashton went on tour and forgot about you, and big brother ran off with my wife that you gotta run around and make everyone as miserable as you are? Snatch a baby from it's mother, throw my dead kid in my face -- this who you are now, Princess??"
Alexis stood up, shoving her chair back and pressing her finger hard against Luke's chest. "Who are you to judge my life, Luke? You sit in this office all day, slowly drinking yourself to death!" She glared pointedly at his scotch glass, tipped over on his desk. "And, you go on stupid, self-destructive, reckless missions to 'save' your cause of the day. Not because you're this noble, wonderful man, but because secretly, inside, you're hoping you'll go so far off the edge you'll never be able to find your way back. Instead of facing your life, you run, Luke. And this time," she reached past him, snatching the picture of Scott and Serena off his desk and shoved it in his face, "you're taking Lucy along for the ride." She stared at him, breathing hard, then bend down to gather her briefcase, slowly, wearily. Alexis took a step away. "Give Lucy the picture, when you see her. Remind her that she's got another daughter who doesn't deserve to grow up without a mother. And, don't forget to tell her exactly how well running's always worked for you." With that, Alexis turned and walked slowly out of Luke's office, closing the door softly, soundlessly behind her.
Harborview Towers
"Michael! Baby, come back to Mama," Carly called, chasing after her giggling son as he raced through their penthouse. She pushed her hair wearily back from her forehead; they'd just come back home after staying with Bobbie for a couple of days. Jason had insisted that she not be alone, after she'd collapsed, at least until she'd felt better. And, Carly wasn't about to have Graziella staying in the penthouse; that woman would never be her favorite person. So, Bobbie had offered to let them stay with her, and it had been surprisingly -- nice. Bobbie had farmed Lucas out to Tony, and Roy, for once, had disappeared from under foot. It had been just Carly, her son, and her mother, and it had been just what she'd needed. Light, and simple, and absolutely no talk about the baby inside her. Talking about the baby made it real, and Carly wasn't ready for her baby to be real, not yet.
The only drawback to her two days of peace and quiet and mother-love was now that Michael was back, in his own familiar surroundings, he was wild. He had two days of unspent energy built up, and he was determined to get it all out all at once. "Michael!" she called again, catching up with him just in time to see him push open the half-closed door, and run out into the hall. She sighed in exasperation, and ran after him. "I'm gonna start to count, Michael, and by the time I get to three--" Carly broke off, frozen in the doorway by the sight of a strange blonde woman kneeling in front of her son. "Michael," she called sharply, scooping him up in her arms as he came over to her, slightly chastened by her tone. She shifted him on her hip, and narrowed her eyes as the other woman rose languidly to her feet. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And how did you get up here?"
Blair Daimler held up her elevator key silently, scanning the younger woman from head to toe. "Blair Daimler," she drawled, then nodded at Sonny's penthouse. "I live here." Her gaze fell on Michael and softened. "You have a beautiful little boy."
Carly stroked Michael's cheek protectively, drawing him closer to her. "Thank you," she said, guardedly. "You," Carly bit her lip, "you live there?" she pointed at the door across the hall. "In Sonny's pent--" Carly broke off, and shook her head. "I'm sorry; the man who used to live there was a -- someone I used to know. I didn't know that he'd sold the apartment."
"He didn't," Blair said. "Not if you're talkin' about Sonny Corinthos. He and I just moved in a few days ago. Together," she purred, with a lifted eyebrow. Her instinct told her that this woman had more than a vested interest in Sonny, and she was not thrilled with the way she was looking at her.
The color drained out of Carly's face as she stared at Blair. After a long moment, she turned to her son, whispering something in his ear, then slid him down to the ground, heading him towards the kitchen with a little pat. She stood up and turned back around to face Blair. "Well, well, well," Carly offered slowly. "At least you're not a brunette; that's a step up. So, what's your angle, Blair Daimler? You a Fed?" she asked, challengingly.
Blair didn't answer; she just smiled slowly, and Carly was suddenly very aware of the fact that Blair was wearing a designer dress, very short and very tight and very flattering, while she herself was in a cut-off sweatshirt and pair of old jeans she'd had since high school. She straightened her spine as Blair approached her, her smile widening. "You must be Carly; Sonny's told me about you. Somehow," her eyes drifted from Carly's bare feet to her loose ponytail, "you're not at all like I pictured you."
"Oh?" Carly stared at Blair, her eyes narrowed. "Guess you shouldn't go by what you hear, 'specially if you're hearing it from the 'great' Sonny Corinthos." She cocked her hip, her hand resting on it. "What, did he sing you the 'whoresluttramp' song? That what Sonny told you about me?" Carly asked, her casual tone belying the turmoil going on inside of her since she'd heard that Sonny was back.
"Not exactly," Blair temporized, her own eyes narrowing slightly. "But if you want to know what Sonny says about you, that's something you really should take up with him," she added, her tone oblique. "I don't go behind Sonny's back."
"Yeah, I'll do that," Carly snapped. Is that what he'd told her? That she was the kind of woman who he couldn't trust? "Meanwhile, don't expect me to bring over banana bread or anything. And," she pushed herself off the wall, "stay the hell away from me; stay the hell away from my son. Last thing any of us need is to get mixed up in Sonny's life again." She turned back towards her penthouse, looking over her shoulder once at Blair to call back, a biting note in her voice, "Welcome to Port Charles." Carly slammed the door behind her, standing frozen inside the penthouse. After a long moment, she took a deep, shuddering gasp, her hands at her mouth, her eyes closed, and sank slowly to the floor. He was back. Sonny was back. And, she had no idea how in the hell to begin to deal with that. Or even if she could.
cabin outside of PC
"Don't cry, angel. Don't cry; Mama's here." Lucy moved quickly to pick up Christina, impatiently discarding her high heel when it caught on one of the unidentifiable rusted whatevers that scattered the corners of the cabin. She muttered a curse, one of the thousands that had escaped her lips since Luke had brought her here. Lucy snagged Christina's bottle from the windowsill, settling in a rocking chair that was, at best, semi-stable. Even so, semi-stable was better than most of the furniture in the place. Lucy rocked, gingerly, and pressed her lips to Christina's forehead. "It's okay, little angel. It's all going to be okay. Save your cries for Uncle Luke, Christina. And, you can help Mama kill him when he comes tomorrow." She continued rocking, all the while murmuring more and more creative ways to torture her very good pal, Luke Spencer, as Christina nodded off.
Once Lucy was sure she was asleep, she lay her down carefully in the one clean corner of the room on the pile of clean blankets she had arranged earlier. She stood up, regarding the rest of the room with a sigh and a grimace. Luke had told her there was a possibility of staying here a few days while Sonny arranged for them to leave; of course, he'd told her this before she'd actually seen this, this, this filthy, rusty, yucky excuse for a cabin. There were actual, working bear traps in a pile near the fireplace! Lucy looked at her designer outfit, then at the grime and groaned, wanting nothing more than to just sink down beside her sleeping baby and wake up only when Luke came and got her out of here.
Lucy shook her head hard, irritated at herself. "There's no way we're going to make it if I give up now," she murmured. Suddenly struck by an idea, she stripped quickly out of her clothes and grabbed a blanket, creating a make-shift toga, and piling her hair up on top of her head. She laughed, grateful suddenly that there were no mirrors in this little hovel of hers. Taking a decrepit broom in one hand, she strode determinedly to the middle of the room. She was Lucy Coe, Aunt Charlene's niece, and there was no way a little bit of dirt was going to get the better of her. She swept up a storm, careful to keep the dust away from Christina, throwing open the front door to sweep the whole mess out. Lucy opened the door, stopping in her tracks at the sight of a begrimed man, holding a tire iron in his hand.
Jerry Jacks, tired, hot, irritated as all hell at the piece of junk car he'd bought from a used car lot back in PC, froze as the door of the cabin he'd assumed was abandoned opened. He stared at the woman wrapped in a very -- odd garment, her hair hanging in a lopsided knot on one side of her head, her face coated with dust and dirt. Beneath it all, Jerry thought-- "Lucy?" he asked, incredulously, and burst out laughing.
Lucy Coe took one look at him, noted the tire iron he was gripping in one fist, the oil and grime coating his face, and the fact that he apparently knew her name. And screamed at the top of her lungs.
