The doctor took the stethoscope away from Carly’s chest.

“Is she okay?” Eduardo asked, his voice tight with fear. He had only met and conversed with Carly a few times but he knew enough about her to know that Azora liked her. And Azora’s opinion on someone was basically all he needed to know when it came to the people they interacted with.

The doctor nodded reassuringly. “It’s just a simple case of over-exertion, with a touch of exhaustion. As soon as we get her re-hydrated and rested she’ll be fine.”

“We though-- you know-- that something might have happened. Like a heart attack or something, because, well, her son-- you know Michael, the kid that was brought in yesterday--” the doctored nodded, “well he coded-- at least, that’s what I think happened, and she fainted. I was kinda, ya know, afraid she had a stroke or something.” He rambled nervously as he absentmindedly toyed with her hand. It was a nervous tick that had first come about when Azora had been in a coma as a child. His parents had noticed his playing with her hand whenever he felt her become anxious or if she had a test that scared him. It had become part of the dichotomy that was Eduardo. Guarded; yet affectionate, reserved; yet open, passive; yet passionate, quiet; yet outspoken, all part of the many idiosyncrasies that made up Eduardo Kortez-Jade.

“No, no, though your thinking is correct. It could have been either or.” He smiled yet again at the protective manner with which the young man watched over the young lady. “The best thing for her would be to rest for a while, which is why I’ve given her a sedative…”

Eduardo winced.

“Is there something wrong with that?” The doctor asked curiously.

“We-e-ell, besides the fact that it’s probably going to piss her off because she promised Michael that she wouldn’t leave him-- at least-- that’s what AJ told me-- it’ll be fine.” He quipped slightly put off by what he perceived to be the doctors condescending tone.

“Oh, well,” he paused chuckling softly. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll allow Mizz” he looked at the chart, “Mizz Spencer rip me a new one when she wakes up.”

“Yes,” he shrugged. “Might as well. Now if you don’t mind she needs her rest--”

“Could I just stay here with her? Please?” He beseeched softly. “I don’t think she’d like waking up alone. At least this way she’ll have someone to holler at before you get here and some poor nurse isn’t on the receiving end of an upset and over wrought mothers tirade.”

The doctor chuckled as he walked towards the door. “You are a much stronger man than I.” He looked out the window and noticed Jason Morgan. He turned back to Eduardo. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the rather anxious alleged mob enforcer standing outside looking through the window, does it?” He asked playfully.

Eduardo winced. “Is it that obvious?”

The young dark haired doctor shook his head. “Not really. If you’d like I can limit her visitor’s to one at a time.”

“Would you?”

He smiled, his narrow eyes looked to be almost closed. “Consider it a precautionary measure.” With that he left the room and dimmed the lights.

“How is she?” Jason asked not looking up from his stance at the window.

“Exhausted, dehydrated and sleep deprived. But we’re remedying those things right now.”

“Good, good. Can I--”

He shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m limiting her visitors to one at a time and right now there are no vacancies, as you can see.” He joined Jason at the window and watched them. “Not that it’s any of my business, but he’s very protective of her, I wouldn’t attempt to start anything if I were you.” He warned the slightly shorter man sagely.

Jason looked at him oddly. “You aren’t me.”

He nodded. “No, you’re not. Good day.” He nodded his head before walking away, his chart tucked securely under his arm.

As he turned the corner his private emergency’s only cell phone started to vibrate. His heart skipped a beat. He looked in each direction for any witness’s before stepping off onto the terrace, taking out his phone and wrapping his lab coat tightly around himself.

“This had better be good.” He growled shuddering as a blast of cold air hit him.

“What? I thought you said we had YEARS?” He looked around again to ensure that he was still alone.

“What’s wrong? You sound as though you’ve been crying.” A pit formed in his stomach. “Please tell me that he hasn’t--”

“Then why did you call.” There was a pause and he groaned. “Te-e-e-ell me you are not calling about another fix. Te-e-e-e-ell me that you didn’t call me at work with a request in your never ceasing quest to die before your time.”

“You weren’t lying.” He said stunned. “It really has begun again, hasn’t it?”

Petra sat down heavily on her bed he could hear the rustling of the sheets. “Yes, it has. I need some stuff to counteract the stuff he’s going to give Coni. You know what I mean-- the drugs, the experiments-- all those pills and injections that he gives him-- I need something to take the edge off for him. I owe him that much.”

He sighed heavily. “That’s the problem I always ran into, Petra. It’s the same problem Faith had whenever she saw it and tried to counteract whatever he gave the kid.”

“His drugs, he creates them, they are his own synthetic protocols, his creations, his concoctions. In other words,” he sighed heavily, “they’ve never been submitted to the FDA in the states or ANY other Food and Drug administrative office in any OTHER country he has inhabited. With out the ingredients of the drugs and research there are no drugs to counteract or inhibit the drugs affects. I’m sorry Petra. But unless you plan on,” he looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Unless you plan on bringing ‘Brian McCree’ back to life miraculously and re-inserting my ass back into fold there is nothing I can do.”

There was a long silence over the phone. He looked at it phone to make sure the connection hadn’t been lost. When he put the phone back to his ear he listened closely. “Petra? Petra are you still there?”

“Are you crying?”

----------------------------------

“But Eduardo seems so strong and with it, you know?” It was beyond the realm of Courtney’s comprehension to think of Eduardo as anything but strong and resilient. “He’s always on top of everything. If it weren’t for Eduardo, sometimes I think Azora wouldn’t know what DAY it is.”

Antoinette smiled. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Eduardo is the original ‘Mr. Reliability’ to the bone.” Her demeanor changed suddenly. “But when Azora was on trial it tested him. It tested everything Poppy and Mummy had instilled in him from the Bible to simple logic. Physically, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, the whole nine. He was exhausted from keeping all his emotions on hold. He felt this insane survivors guilt over have been the one to survive it all, and being the one that had been able to talk our parents into ‘adopting’ Azora, and for not allowing a funeral to take place until she was cleared of the charges.”

“He absolutely refused to put us to rest without Azora in attendance. Not to mention the fact that the parishioners of Poppy’s church were all convinced that Azora was a guilty as original sin and were questioning his every decision and talking about him behind his back about his mental well being.”

“Which must have tested his faith, right?”

Antoinette nodded. “He questioned why it had been us and not him. He questioned himself about whether or not if they had left sooner if we could have been saved or rescued. And how could God let Azora be put in prison for a crime she hadn’t committed. He questioned his own sanity! He couldn’t understand any of it.”

“It was all just too dernt much for him to deal with on a cognizant level. He started to distance himself from the community and the church-- the church, mind you, that his father had practically built and that he had been going to since he was an infant. What few friends he had outside of the family stopped calling or coming by the apartment that he had rented after our deaths because all he wanted to talk or think about was getting Azora freed and how he was going to accomplish that.”

“Heck, even Azora could feel the shift in his behavior and started to worry about him. He didn’t sleep and didn’t eat, he lost weight and looked horrible. The only thing that kept him going was the irrefutable knowledge that Azora was innocent and that if he didn’t prove it that she’d never get to say goodbye to us, he’d never forgive himself, and we’d never rest in peace. He knew that the warden wasn’t about to let her attend the funeral. That and that she would go nuts in prison. The jail that she was being held in was small time, itty bitty. Some of her guards were actually parishioners of Poppy’s church and didn’t believe that Azora did it. They hated the warden something awful too.” She added with a snicker.

“The day of the funerals in New York; where Poppy and Mummy are from originally, was the day after her acquittal. It was also the most talked about, gossiped about, awkward -- because only half of the people actually believed she was really innocent and they all knew how it had taken it’s toll on Eduardo -- and they were trying to be there for the spectacle of it all, that was until they saw him. Some even left out of respect for him. They felt badly and after they paid their respects to us, they politely left. The church was packed with mourners. All six caskets were lined up in a row in front of the sacristy of the church, all closed because Eduardo knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together otherwise. All were covered with large ornate arrangements of colorful flowers. And everyone waited.”

“See, Eduardo had wanted to put us to rest as soon as humanly possible, but the murder charges had gotten in the way. And quite frankly, whose gonna argue with a preachers kid whose just lost 95 % of his family?”

“Not I.”

“EXACTLY! So the day of the funeral was literally the day after her acquittal. Unfortunately, lovely thing bureaucratic red tape pushed back her release until the next morning. Leaving Eduardo pacing the length of the sanctuary like a nervous groom on his wedding day. Everyone was dressed up. He bought a suit real special like with a tie and evrathang that weren’t a bolo tie-- which is a HUGE thing when you consider that every ‘tie’ he had ever owned was of the bolo variety.”

“He had wanted too pick Azora up himself and bring her to New York, seeing as she had never flown to our recollection, and he knew it rattle her nerves muchly. But the courts,” she sighed in exasperation, “had insisted that she had a police escort all the way there so that (A) they wouldn’t be easy pray for the murderer to finish the job, i.e. in case she really was guilty she couldn’t jus’ whack him and run. (B) they wouldn’t get all emotionally overwhelmed and end up in a car accident on the way to the airport or the church. (C) to make sure she didn’t skip bail. And (D) she was still technically on parole and couldn’t leave the state of Texas without a chaperone.”

“People started to speculate that she had skipped town before she was even five minutes late. It took every ounce of restrain he had not to knock the whole lot of them to kingdom come!”

“And when she was actually late, by about 10 minutes give or take, the whispers became a dull roar. People started looking at Eduardo with such pity and such fake remorse that you could tell that he was about to snap.”

“Until,” came the voice of another woman who stood beside a coconut tree. Courtney watched their interactions carefully. The woman was tall, somewhere between 5”8 and 5”9 with elbow length curly brown hair. Her complexion was honey and her eyes were smoky brown but unbelievably warm, “the narthex doors opened and there she stood. Her normally untamable calico colored hair (brown, white, gray, blonde, red, and black) hair was styled into tight but dainty blondish whitish grayish dreadlocks.”

“Her tiny frame was clad in a soft warm deep violet crushed velvet floor length skirt and matching strapless top. She wore the pearl earrings I had give her that fateful day. Around her neck she wore the opal cameo that Fernando Carlo and Eduardo Sr. had hand crafted for her and the matching opal bead bracelets that Antoinette Aurora and I had made for her. She looked breathtaking.” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“It was a scene right out of the movies.” She smile tearfully. “All of the people father in attendance turned to look at her in unison and the sight that they beheld took their breath away. You could hear a pin drop as Eduardo turned around and their eyes met from across the room. They ran into one another’s arms and he swung her around the aisle. But most of all, he cried.”

Courtney didn’t seem to understand. “What my mother left out is the fact that those people had forgotten two things. Number One: Eduardo hadn’t allowed himself to feel any emotion since our death. In an essence he hadn’t started mourning us yet because he didn’t want to do so until Azora was with him so that they could support one another. And Number Two--”

Carlotta turned away, not wanting to relive that particular aspect of it all.

Antoinette sighed, nodding. “The day we died was also,” she hesitated, her mother sobbed into her hands, “It was also their birthday.”

---------------------------------

Jax and Skye watched as Azora’s tenuous condition seemed to spiral further and further out of the realm of something they understood or could contain. “Get Eduardo, QUICK!” Skye ordered. Jax sprinted down the hall.

---------------------------------

“I’ll see what I can do. But you have to be careful Petra. Mixing the wrong combination can be deadly.” He warned, sitting on a bench the cold all but forgotten. “Is there anything else I should know? Are you going to want me to rescue you two? Cause that can be arranged.” He asked almost hopefully.

He winced. “It’s that bad, eh? I told you not to screw with the programming, Petra. It’ll come back to bite both of you in the ass.” He warned as he sat with his elbows on his knees leaning down and running a mental checklist of things that wouldn’t screw up the already screwed up kid-- correction-- adult stuck in an emotionally stunted 6 year olds body.

He rolled his life. “Yeah, that’s some life he’s got there. Living threat to threat, being beaten, sexually assaulted, humiliated and demoralized at Cole’s will….niiiiiiice life there.”

“I’m sorry I said it that way Petra. That’s not what I meant. As much as I hate this, I also realize that you are the only thing that kept those two from insanity if not death…”

“Hey, it’s a nice town. Really nice if you just chill out and don’t piss off any of the friendly neighborhood mob enforcers-- Why?”

It was his turn to feel his stomach to drop. “W-why?”

“DAMMIT Petra! Why didn’t you stop them?!”

“I would have if I would have known! I just put two and two together! Holy shit McCreedy, holy shit…”

---------------------------------

After Cole shoved him, he stumbled across the threshold and promptly plowed into the mini bar. Quickly, he caught both himself and the contents of the bar preventing either from crashing to the floor. Seconds later he heard the click of the lock, a cold chill went down his spine. The door was locked now, and the key would be hidden in case he wanted to play ‘Where‘s The Key’ later.

He shuddered at the thought.

He could feel himself slipping further into the safe place where everything was numb, where he was safe from the pain that would be inflicted and anger that his master would unleash upon him. As he slipped into his safe place he could faintly feel Cole’s hands on his shoulders, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it down off of his shoulders.

His Masters hands were cold and calloused against his cold and tender skin. He could hear his Master snickering at his reflex to shudder and the goose flesh that appeared. He felt his Master trace the outline of his bandage before he roughly and unceremoniously ripped it off his back.

He swallowed hard, his back arched, but he didn’t scream.

“Ah, you’re so proud of yourself aren’t you.” He heard faintly.

---------------------------------

---------------------------------

“You know,” he jumped, startled by the feeling of Cole’s cold breath upon his neck, “the only thing that can save Courtney Quartermaine’s miserable little life,” he smirked as Coni began to tremble, “is if you satisfy me.” He growled pseudo seductively.

“You know that don’t you?” He asked, but Coni couldn’t figure out if it was a rhetorical question or a normal question. “DON’T YOU!?” He barked into his ear, causing him to jump again, much to Cole’s pleasure.

“Y-yes M-master.” He whispered his stomach churning and knotting up with fear.

He snickered deviously. “Awwww, is someone nervous?” He asked incredulously, thoroughly enjoying watching his pawn squirm. His finger tips glided across his shoulder and down his collar bone and up to his opposite shoulder blade.

“I think we need to loosen you up a little bit.” He sneered, giving Coni a good hard shove in the direction of the leather couch he had in his room against the far wall.

He landed with a thud and a small whimper. He watched Cole closely in an attempt to discern his ever fluctuating mood but he could discern nothing from his actions or expression. He gulped as Cole got out two goblets; one with a significantly larger cup that the other-- so large that it almost resembled a small fish bowl, and filled the larger goblet all the way full with strong wine.

The other goblet however, he filled until it was barely ¼’s full.

As Cole turned around to him and began to approach the couch he noticed the nearly insane look in his eyes.

“This will loosen you up,” ‘hee hee’ he chuckled as he forced the cup into his hands and then brought it up to his lips.

Coni, for his part, tried valiantly to take small sips of the amber/violet mixture, but Cole did not let go of the base of the goblet. Instead he tipped the bottom forcing a steady stream of his own personal concoction of brandy/cognac/vodka to flow into his mouth.

At first he almost choked on the steady stream of liquor, but soon he was able to somewhat regain his bearings and guzzle it down. His heart couldn’t help but race knocking that if so much as a droplet dribbled down his chin that it wouldn’t matter whether or not he could appease his Master, Courtney’s life would be forfeit.

“Good boy, good boy,” he mockingly complimented him as he gulped down the anything-but-refreshing liquid.

Cole could tell that he was in distress be the way his Adam’s Apple was rapidly bobbing up and down in his throat, but he didn’t care, he was enjoying the control of it all. ‘I have to do this more often’ he thought to himself almost gleefully.

Once the goblet was empty Cole snatched it away from his lips and abruptly flung the goblet against the wall where it shattered into a million pieces.

Coni covered his head and looked up demurely as Cole stood up suddenly and walked back over to his bar. The sudden movement caused Coni to be bounced a little. Which wouldn’t have been so bad had it not been for the large quantity of liquor he had just consumed on a basically empty stomach.

Coni flopped against the back of the couch gulping, desperately for fresh air. Zander was known for his high alcohol tolerance, but Coni had never-- except for that once-- drank a drop of liquor of his own free will. He didn’t know what was going on. His stomach felt as though it were full of a million littler hyperactive butterflies, yet at the same time his stomach was being twisted into unbearable knots.

‘I don’t like this feeling,’ he thought to himself anxiously as he scooted himself inot the corner of the couch for stability.

His head began to swim, his lips felt oddly warm, his entire face felt flush with a warmth he couldn’t understand-- therefore it scared him, and his vision was blurry. When he blinked his eyes to fix it and then shook his head sharply it caused the swimming sensation in his head ten to worsen fold.

“Awww, is the pa-fet-ic wittle ninny already tipsy?” He asked incredulously as he walked back over to the couch carrying a new bottle that was full of cognac/brandy/vodka in his hand.

“Drink,” he barked shoving the large bottle into his hands.

He wrapped his fingers and hands around it and looked at it and the Cole forlornly.

“Screw the middle man, DRINK!” He barked, watching amusedly as he took big gulps of the funny tasting liquid. He could barely hide his glee.

“Yes Masser,” he slurred, he blinked a few times, but his vision continued to be doubled and tripled until he just gave up and began to drink again.

Cole’s laughter was deafening-- at least to Coni it was. He hesitated to pull the bottle away from his lips but had no other recourse as he needed to breath. So he warily pulled it away, slowly, almost as though he were anticipating a blow or a belittling remark, but his action was only met with silence.

They sat in silence for a long time, both drinking, Coni however was far more affected than Cole.

“You know--” he sudden boom of his voice startled Coni so much that he had to hug the bottle to his chest to prevent from dropping it. “I should have done this in the first place,” Cole thought out loud with a snort, as his hand roamed across the cushions until it reached Coni’s thigh, at which point he started to leisurely-- if not a tad roughly, rub his palm against his inner thigh.

Coni gasped sharply, inadvertently increasing the flow of liquor to his mouth and causing himself to gag and sputter for a second before regaining some semblance of composure. “S-s-sorry,” he apologized drunkenly, his hand covering his hand was he softly cleared his throat. His heart was pounding with fear as he knew one little screw up and more people would die because of him. His heart was also racing, but that was due to the affects of the liquor.

But Cole didn’t seem to notice, or for that fact care. And if he did, he wasn’t showing it in anyway shape or form that Coni understood. His eyes were glazed over and he continued to roughly massage his inner thigh as though he wasn’t in the moment, but a different moment all together.

“Yeah, should’ve thought of intoxication a looong time ago.” He muttered absently as he sipped his brandy, his eyes glazed over as evidence that he had started drinking long before Coni’s arrival. “It’ll loosen you up,” he muttered, “maybe even hamper your inhabitations if we‘re really lucky,” he snorted as though coming out of the fog. He roughly latched his hand onto his inner thigh and dragged him across the couch until he was turned around, facing his side, with his leg laid out on the cushions, and sitting in between his legs.

Coni gasped sharply as he landed in his lap, his grip tightened absently on the bottle to prevent any slopping out of the bottle.

“But that doesn’t matter anymore does it?” He sneered as the hand that had clasped so hard onto his thigh to begin to unbutton his pants.

He stopped when the zipper was half way down and suddenly, without warning-- forced the bottle to his lips at a high angle so that he would have to guzzle it down quick.

Coni gulped and gulped and gagged and gulped and gagged until Cole threw the empty bottle against the wall with a sudden and sharp crash.

“It’s time to get down to business,” he whispered softly, in an almost perversely affectionate husky tone.

---------------------------------

Sooooo....

anyhooo.…

Ummm....

Feedback anyone??