EzCode Parsing Error: ttp://ajdias.envy.nu/banners/loaded%20banner.jpg"/=ttp://ajdias.envy.nu/banners/loaded%20banner.jpg/][
Prologue
Fuck, the word flipped of her tongue as easily as the ash at the end of her smoldering cigarette; not a curse at the world or a cry of passion. She uttered the obscenity in mild annoyance as the rain began to fall again. Sighing heavily she dropped her spent cigarette to the balcony floor, snuffed it out with the heel of her black dress shoe and kicked it over the edge. She watched it fall all the way to the wet pavement below before turning back to the foreign suite she now called home. Running a hand through her dark hair she heaved a sigh.
The Port Charles Hotel was sterile and devoid of character. Every penthouse suite on the top floor probably contained the same floor plan: living room, three bedrooms, kitchen/dining area and two bathrooms. The predictability made her stomach turn. She missed her apartment at Harborview Towers. The walls may be empty and the furniture scarce, but she felt comfortable and secure there. Absently she rubbed her thumb over the numb scar on her palm. Its ragged edges rising to meet her caress, the odd sensation of feeling the scar, but not the thumb almost unnoticeable.
The knife sliced through the tendons and nerves to your fingers, Miss Webber, the doctors voice rang hollow in her ears. She stared at him with expressionless eyes.
What does that mean? she asked calmly while her heart beat at the speed of light under her bulky sweatshirt.
Well, with physical therapy youll be able to use your right hand, maintain basic motor functions.
Can I paint? she asked in the same calm voice, but her eyes watered against her will and tears threatened to spill over the edge. The doctor sighed and she stopped listening because the answer was obvious.
You wont have the use of your right hand like you used to, Elizabeth, her grandmother gently whispered in her ear. For a moment Elizabeth closed her eyes, feeling all her dreams slip without a fight into the numbness in her hand. Once they were down there, trapped in her fingertips, she knew they would never resurface, but the empty gaping hole in her heart stood ragged and angry.
I see, she said simply. The rest of the doctors words fell around her shoulders and swirled in and out of her head. She didnt remember any of it, didnt really care.
Why do you do that? Sonny asked, looking up from the couch with empty eyes that matched Elizabeths heart.
What? Smoke? she asked in a tired voice. The question was routine, he asked her every time he caught her blowing smoke rings off the balcony of the penthouse. Today shed play along. Today she welcomed a little routine. I only do it when Im tense. Im down to a pack a day. Sonny didnt respond, just stared past her out the open balcony door as the rain poured down from the heavens. Shed lost him once again to the past and with a tired mind and soul wondered why she couldnt slip back there so easily as well.
Crossing her arms over her chest she sat down on the armchair that didnt comfort her in any familiar way. The coffee table, desk by the door, end tables and mantle were covered with flowers. Roses, cal lilies, orchids, and those damn bleeding hearts, with their all too appropriate name, cascading down their pots filled the room. Mobsters sent such tacky flower arrangements. Cradling her right arm against her ribs in an unconscious protective gesture she tried to roll the kink out of her right shoulder.
The bullet ripped through her body, throwing her back against the wall of the warehouse. Her mouth opened in shock, eyes crossing in an effort to draw a breath. If she hadnt been told long ago that her painting days were over, she wouldnt have questioned it after tonight. With effort she rolled around the corner, out of range of her assailant. She cursed under her breath and pinched back the tears of pain pooling in her eyes. She needed to see.
She took a moment to assess her wounds. Already the sticky blood was traveling down her black turtleneck, soaking the shirt shiny. She could taste blood, but a quick exploration of her mouth proved shed bitten her tongue as she slammed against the wall. Switching her gun to her right hand, vaguely feeling the weight of it in her numb fingers, she felt her shoulder, grimaced in pain as she probed the hole in her skin a little too roughly, and leaned her head against the wall in exasperation. She pulled the black bandana out of her hair and wrapped it snugly over her shoulder, tucking it securely under her arm, pinning it to her side as she held her right arm firmly to her body. The makeshift bandage should have been tighter, but she really couldnt do it with one hand. Squaring her jaw and biting the inside of her cheek to distract from the pain, she took a deep breath and rose to her feet. The world rocked before her eyes and she breathed deeply again. Her left hand clasped the gun and, holding it level with her eyes she edged her way to the corner.
The warehouse was dark, too dark to really see if you didnt know the place. She did and bastard who shot her, didnt. A grim smirk curled on her lips as she counted on that advantage. The gunman would be paying so much attention to keeping quiet, hed never hear her coming.
The shadow moved in her peripheral vision, just to the right. With eyes like a cat she followed the stealthy figure as it inched along the packing crates. Extending her arm, she flipped a switch and the red site laser alighted on the black fabric of a well-muscled shoulder blade. Carefully, she watched the shoulder move, oblivious to the target on its back. She couldnt afford to miss her mark, so she crept forward, feet silent as the rubber soles of her boots smothered her steps. Ten feet, six feet, three feet; she squeezed the trigger.
Elizabeth? Sonnys voice reached her in the memory. Face expressionless as always, except for the stormy blue of her gaze, she looked at him to continue. With red, dry eyes he clasped his hand against the back of his neck, massaging the tendons that were stretched to the point of snapping. The rumpled suit and mussed hair a testimony to the trials hed endured the past few days.
Yes? Elizabeth asked in reply. She wished her voice didnt sound so weak and hollow.
This has to end, he stated simply, but she knew exactly what he meant. Closing her eyes in a prayer for strength she mulled over her options of response. Like yesterday and the day before, and every day since the explosion, Sonny was trying to cut her out, push her away and out of his life. And, like yesterday and the day before, and every day since the explosion, Elizabeth shot him down.
Sonny, its never gonna end, she spoke smoothly, screening all emotion from her voice. Shed practiced that voice for years. Now it came to her without conscious effort. I thought wed discussed this. Four times.
Well, you dont seem to understand that its not a discussion, Sonny returned, voice rising a little in anger and fear. He stood up and began to pace around the crowded living room. She watched him walk to the desk where the brandy waited in a crystal decanter. He splashed some in a glass of ice and after a moment, poured a second. Carrying both glasses he returned to her and sat on the edge of the coffee table by her knees. This is an order. Youve always followed them before.
Thats because they made sense before, she responded shortly, but she took the glass of dark brown liquid and swallowed a large gulp. The alcohol burned her throat, but she liked the feeling. Cleansing. She eyed him for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek and planning her attack. Precision, and careful planning could get a soldier through a minefield. You need me. Now more than ever.
Thats not the point, he challenged her common sense. His chocolate brown eyes burned into her stormy blue ones. I have to protect my family.
And youve been doing it so well, she shot back, spitting the words out as her temper overcame the calm control she usually possessed. Instantly she regretted the words as she saw the pain enter Sonnys eyes and nearly drown him. Im sorry, Sonny, thats not whatI didnt mean it like it sounded. He didnt respond, looked past her to some place far in the past where his life was whole. She looked down at the glass in her hands and mentally cursed herself.
A temper like that could get you killed, Jason said with a wry smile. If barely curling the corners of his mouth heavenward passed as a smile. Elizabeth pushed her hair out of her face and wanted to scream.
Morgan, this is ridiculous! she cried with exasperation. The gun in her left hand wouldnt cooperate with her intentions. It missed the target, a mere twenty feet in front of her, by a mile. The bandage was still wrapped around her right palm, not to protect anymore, but to hide the ragged scar shed have to look at for the rest of her life. Im right handed. I cant do this.
Yes you can, Jason spoke quietly. He stood behind her and slipped an arm around her waist to steady her against his body. If he noticed her shoulders tense at his touch, he ignored it. Grasping the small hand that held the gun he wrapped his fingers over hers and brought both their arms up to her shoulder height. Look down the sights. Okay? Now no, dont lock your elbow. The recoil will break your arm if you do that. Relax, okay?
I, I cant, she whimpered at his side. All day long they had been in the woods. Target practice Sonny had called it, but to Elizabeth it was a day of torture reminding her that the rapist not only took away her painting, but also any chance she had of retribution.
Just trust me, He spoke into her hair. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his chest. Having anybody touch her made her nervous, but she did trust him, had to trust him to teach her revenge.
Okay, she breathed deeply and opened her eyes again, loosening the death grip she had on the gun as well as the tension in her arm.
Good, He spoke in that same calm voice that caressed her nerves and smoothed their frazzled ends into submission. Now, until you can hold the gun steady like this with just your left hand, support it with your right. Thats it. Okay, now look down the sights and find your mark. When youre ready, squeeze the trigger, dont jerk it, or youll miss the target. Nodding her head quickly, Elizabeth licked her lips and set her jaw. The dummy outline on the tree ahead of her had no features, but she could see the mans eyes, depraved and hungry, looming over her as he ripped at the red dress covering her body. Blinking away the memory and shaking her head she pulled the trigger. The force of the recoil rocked her on her feet, but she stood firm and heard the satisfying thud of the bullet as it hit the tree, right between those phantom eyes.
Sonny, Im not gonna leave you, Elizabeth spoke calmly and reached for his hand. She squeezed his fingers with her left hand, vaguely aware that her right was griping the glass of brandy loosely.
You should, Sonny mumbled. The commands he wanted to issue dying on his tongue in his quiet descent into depression. But he squeezed the fingers back, grateful she was there even if her mere presence marked her as a target for the next inevitable attack on his life.
This isnt your fight alone, Elizabeth whispered.
Not even if I want it to be? If I ask it to be? the anger returned as quickly as it had momentarily waned. Abruptly he rose and began to pace again, his hand working feverishly against the muscles in his neck, as if abusing himself might drive the pain away. I dont want you mixed up in this anymore.
Mixed up inand what am I supposed to do Sonny? Elizabeth shot back. Heaving an angry sigh she rose as well and tried to make him look at her. Work at 101 for the rest of my life behind the bar? Wondering if you need my help, wondering if you and Carly are okay when I dont see her during one of my shifts? Only seeing you on Christmas and Easter, maybe my birthday?
Thatd be safer.
Damn it! When have I ever asked to be safe? she cried. She ran her hand through her hair and set the glass down as she just remembered it was still clutched in her grasp. It had started to slip and she didnt need the distraction of cleaning brandy out of the carpet. Thanks to you I can take care of myself. Now let me repay that by helping you.
Youre my sister, you dont need to repay me!
She looked up at the man she barely knew with frightened, yet determined eyes. The piece of paper in her hands hung limply in the space between them. Without a word, Sonny took the birth certificate from her and studied it for what felt like a lifetime. Elizabeth watched him, unable to fix on a specific feeling to embrace; fear, apprehension, embarrassment, disgust, she didnt know how the mob boss would react.
What is this? Sonny asked quietly. She swallowed and her gaze danced crazily around the room, alighting everywhere except his eyes. Elizabeth, what are you trying to tell me?
Youre my brother, she finally whispered, unable to explain herself in anything but blunt honesty. She looked down at her bandaged wound and tried to flex the fingers in her right hand. As usual they moved, but she couldnt feel a thing. It was like watching an old boyfriend with his new crush. The laughs, looks and gestures still rang true, but they no longer meant anything special. The fingers waved at her, but the hand could have been cut off and she would barely have been aware of the difference. Reciting the carefully planned speech shed memorized on her way over, she continued, Our mother hid the pregnancy from my father. I dont know why. My grandmo-, I mean Audrey Hardy took me and gave me to her daughter. I guess this explains why Ive always felt like an outsider.
Sonny didnt respond. Words failed him with their empty meanings. Instead he set the birth certificate that had his mothers name emblazoned on it in black ink on the desk and took Elizabeth Webbers undamaged left hand in his.
You need something from me? he asked quietly. Elizabeth looked up, her eyes shining, but no tears spilled onto her cheeks. He felt the small fingers tighten over his as her mouth set itself in a firm line.
Only what youre willing to give, she replied, desperately praying hed grant her request.
Name it, Sonny responded. His mind still refused to fully wrap itself around the idea that this girl hed known only vaguely since his arrival in Port Charles could be his sister. But something in his heart told him to trust it.
Teach me, Elizabeth whispered as her eyes lost their luster and a dull, cold cloud deepened the dark blue irises to almost pitch black. Show me how to make this never happen again. He wasnt sure what she meant, not right away, but the white gauze on her hand and the way shed visibly recoiled at his touch gave him a few clues. Without another word an understanding passed between them and he nodded.
How?
Elizabeth chewed mercilessly at her cheek, almost tasting blood. Why did they have to do this today of all days? Couldnt he just accept the fact that she wouldnt go anywhere, especially with the bastards who had caused her family this pain alive and well, probably planning their next attack?
Sonny, Im not quitting and I wont listen to you if you try to fire me, she spoke with finality. He stood with his back to her, letting the words wash over his head and land somewhere around him. This is my fight, as much as yours.
Jason wouldnt want-, he began, pulling the card hed been hiding for days, but she cut him off with a low cry of anger before he could finish his thought. The familiar burning sensation behind Elizabeths eyes reared its painful head again and she struggled to keep her voice calm. Her legs began to shake and she sat on the edge of the coffee table to hold them still. When the lump in her throat had receded to the depths of her churning stomach she spoke in a voice so deadly calm it sent chills down Sonnys spine.
Jasons dead.
