The small scrap of paper was rough in her hand, the edges piercing into her palm. Bobbie continuously crumpled and reopened it. The handwriting was unrecognizable. Whoever had written the ominous note was nervous. The letters drifted down the paper and seemed to visibly shake. She would have never agreed to meet with the author of the note if it hadn't been in a public place like Kelley's.
Bobbie stepped into the brisk winter air. She tightened the scarf around her neck and leaned against the wall. Her eyes moved side to side, desperately trying to recognize a face. The wind whipped harshly against her skin and forced her to look down. She listened intently to every pair of feet that walked by. None of them slowed to a stop as they reached her.
She felt numb, the cold immune to the layers of clothing she wore. Bobbie pursed her lips together, now cracked and dry. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and she cringed as the moisture burnt her lips. She wanted to leave and seek the warmth of her own home, but something kept her standing there. Waiting.
Stuffing his bare hands deep into his pockets, Roy made a mental note to invest in a pair of gloves. He remembered spotting a pair of wool mittens on Luke's desk and scolded himself for not asking to borrow them. He could have sought warmth, inside the tiny four walls he calls home. But he took a walk along the water every night. The cold didn't bother him. There was no cold worse than a dirty prison floor or steel bars clutched between your fingers. He'd survive this cold. It was the other aspects of his life he wasn't so sure about.
Roy made his way up the stairs slowly, his body swaying side to side. His teeth chattered loudly and a stream of fog flowed from his mouth as he took heavy breaths. He stopped suddenly when he saw her. Her face was turned down to the ground, but he would recognize that mass of red curls anywhere.
Keeping his distance, Roy studied her carefully. Sometimes he had to blink and rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming whenever he saw Bobbie. Sometimes clearing his vision was because when he looked at her, he saw that young woman he was going to marry twenty years ago. It took a lot of strength for Roy to remember that many years had passed, and she was no longer promised to him. But part of his mission statement when he left prison was to right wrongs and make new beginnings. Bobbie was a part of both of those plans.
She pressed her chin against her chest, shielding the air from her face. Bobbie touched a finger to her cheek and wondered if there was actual ice forming on her skin. She laughed inwardly at the irony of what she was doing; just that morning she had told Lucas not to stay in the cold for very long. But something made Bobbie feel that if she walked away for just a moment, she would miss out on something.
She never heard any footsteps. She never heard any breaths being drawn. Suddenly a pair of fingers were cupping Bobbie's chin, lifting her head up. She gasped as the air drained from her lungs. Her knees buckled and she had to press her hands against the wall to remain standing. She shut her eyes tightly, tears pooling behind her closed lids. When she opened them, he was still standing there. Only now her vision was blurred and the tears stung her cheeks as they rolled down. No sound emerged from her mouth as she spoke, "Jerry?"
He nodded, locking his gaze with her's. He had been afraid she wouldn't recognize him. Jerry's body was hidden behind a bulky coat and heavy jeans. A hat covered his lustrous hair, now a light shade of brown. His rugged face was covered by a thick layer of hair. Bobbie wanted to reach out and touch him, just to make sure he was real and not a figment of her imagination.
"I didn't think you would come," Jerry whispered. No matter how he tried to hide it, his accent was still audible. His entire body quaked as he extended his arms, curling his fingers around her shoulders. They both felt a bolt of electricity course through their bodies at the contact.
Bobbie couldn't find any words. She merely fell forward, collapsing against his chest. The world around them seemed to disappear. Neither noticed the man lurking around the corner, dark eyes watching them.
Roy bit down on his lip and clenched his hands into fists. He didn't need to see the face of the man Bobbie was embracing to know who he was. He treaded lightly towards the diner, stopping just out of their view but close enough to hear any words that passed between them.
"We can't stay here," Jerry said quietly, pulling her away from the wall. Bobbie was limp in his arms, her shoulders shaking as she cried. He wrapped his arms, aching from being empty for so long, around her waist. He practically carried her down the stairs and to the docks. They stood, entangled, in a dark corner.
He knew it was none of his business, but Roy couldn't resist. The last thing he wanted was to put Bobbie in danger. He didn't know why Jerry Jacks was in Port Charles, but he would find out. He stood above them, remaining perfectly still and silent.
"Why? How?" Bobbie trembled against him, gathering the material of his coat in her hands as she clutched him.
Jerry slid his hand up her back, threading his fingers into the hair that hung outside of her hat. "I couldn't stand it, Bobbie. Being without you was no life at all. No one else knows I'm here. No one will. Not even Jax."
"You can't be here!" She looked up, resting her palms against his chest. His eyes were like silver and just as inviting as she remembered. "It's not safe for you."
He shook his head. "I don't care," Jerry cried out, framing her face in his hands. His thumbs wiped her tears and stroked her lips, wetting them. "I left to save my life, Bobbie. And to make sure you and Lucas were safe. But the way things are right now for me... that is not living. I made as well be dead."
"Don't say that!"
"It's the truth! Dammit, Bobbie! You became my entire world. I should just rot in prison if I can't have you."
She walked her fingers up to his neck, pulling at the ends of his hair. Her hands cupped his cheeks, the bristle of his beard scratching her palms. They leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. "Everything that has happened was your choice, Jerry," she scolded him. "I wish we could be together. But you made decisions that... it's impossible."
"But it's not, Bobbie. You and Lucas... we can be a family. You can come with me. Please." He lifted her head just enough for their lips to meet. His mouth brushed across her's, resting at the corner of her mouth. He spoke against her skin, his breath warming her. "We'll be safe. We'll be happy."
Bobbie couldn't believe she was even considering his proposal. She had a brother and a daughter in Port Charles. The thought of never seeing them again made her sick. Her mind was working too fast. She loved Jerry, and at one time he represented her future. But as he held her and she remembered how he left her, Bobbie couldn't help but think of Roy. He was her past, but he could also once again be her whole world. "I want to," she confessed.
The enthusiasm in Bobbie's voice stabbed Roy in the chest. He took a step back and punched the air with a closed fist as he felt a pair of hands grasp his shoulders. "Jesus," he cursed, turning around to see Agent Fox. He roughly grabbed his arm and led him away from the railing and into Kelley's.
Beneath the deck, Bobbie pulled the hat away from Jerry's head. She removed her gloves, stuffing them into her pockets. She brushed her fingers through his hair and stroked his cheeks, memorizing every curve of his face. "I want to, but I can't. I have a life here in Port Charles. You made the decision to launder money again, and with that came giving up your life with me. I can't take Lucas and run! I won't do that to him or myself."
"I love you, Bobbie."
"I know," she nodded. "I love you too. But I cannot do this. Please... go back to wherever you've been and keep yourself alive. You can't come back into my life like this and expect me to have open arms."
Jerry exhaled a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He choked on a sob, tears spilling down his red cheeks. "Bobbie," his voice pleaded with her, but he knew it was of no use.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. This can't happen. I won't tell anyone you were here. Just go and be safe."
He wrapped one hand around her neck and cupped her cheek in the other. Lifting her feet from the ground, Jerry's lips captured her's in a searing kiss. His tongue tasted the depths of her mouth, savoring every second she gave him. He let go of her, quickly turning before she could utter another word. His boots pounded down the docks, tears clouding his vision.
Bobbie covered her face with her hands. She sobbed out loud, not caring who heard her. Her whole body shook and she stumbled back against a wall. It didn't seem fair that Jerry only gave her a few minutes to make a decision, even though she knew her choice would have been the same no matter what. She wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her jacket and took several sharp, calming breaths. She would not breakdown. There was too much going on in her life to let herself unravel. Carly needed her strength. She had to look at Jerry's reappearance, and final appearance, as a chance to start over.
She gained her composure and stepped out from under the deck. Bobbie took the gloves out of her pockets, slipping them onto her cold fingers. The strength returned to her body and she began to jog down the docks with determined steps.
Missing her by mere seconds, Roy stumbled down the stairs. He looked up and down, to his left and to his right. Bobbie was gone. "Damn him," he sneered, smacking his hand against a light post. He couldn't believe that Bobbie would abandon her life for Jerry Jacks. He wouldn't believe it. But there was nothing and no one to tell him otherwise.
Chloe Morgan Ashton was dead. She had been buried under the cold, hard earth five hours ago. Her voice no longer reached their ears and her eyes could no longer gaze upon the faces of her friends. She was dead, and it was supposed to be Alexis' lifeless body trapped inside a coffin.
Alexis stood in front of the mirror above her dresser. Her chest was rising and falling as she drew breath. Her skin was full of color. Blood was pumping inside her veins. She had all the signs of being alive, yet she had never felt more dead.
She slipped her fingers into her hair, dragging them through the feathery, auburn tresses. The long strands snagged on her ring. She forcefully removed the gold band, throwing it down onto the dresser. It spun in circles, finally settling and once again leaving her in silence.
Alexis touched the pads of her fingers to her face. Her skin was warm as she lightly rubbed her eyes and cheeks, sweeping a finger over her lips. She pressed her palm against the valley between her breasts. Her heart was beating steadily beneath her skin and air was coursing in and out of her lungs. She shuddered at the feel of life inside her body. That's not how it was supposed to be.
Closing her eyes in shame, she turned away from the mirror. Her feet tangled together as she crossed the floor and stood at the open door. Alexis looked into the empty hall and began to think silence was louder than any noise.
Ned was with the Quatermaine family, playing the part of a grieving husband. He was an awfully convincing actor. Jax was motionless as he plastered his body to the sofa, unable to move even if he wanted to. Alexis didn't think he had stopped crying once since the doctors pronounced Chloe dead. His eyes were no longer the soft, icy blue she loved to see staring back at her; they were dark and rimmed by a deep crimson color.
She watched Jax, drawing his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. He was rocking back and forth. He seemed like a child, alone and lost. Alexis knew his reaction to Chloe's death would haunt her for the rest of her days. She loved Jax and the thought of losing his friendship was almost worse than the guilt she couldn't shake. If he knew the entire truth, the little details she was withholding, he would no doubt hate her. Not only could Alexis not stand to bare witness to Jax's rage, but that was a feeling she couldn't allow him to have; grief was enough.
Alexis pressed her fingers against her eyes, absorbing the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks yet again. She covered her ears, the shrill sound of Helena's voice invading her thoughts. Alexis had tried to forget, to suppress the memory so she wouldn't be lying when she asked herself whether or not she was responsible for Chloe's death. It didn't matter if Ned and Jax told her she couldn't have prevented what happened. It didn't matter if the police only wanted Helena Cassadine, and had no interest in prosecuting Alexis. All that mattered was that Chloe was dead, because Alexis dressed her in the one coat Helena had seen several times. Because Alexis didn't share Helena's words with anyone else. "I'll be watching you. And when you least expect, little girl, I'll strike," she had taunted her. Alexis took it as another empty threat, but part of her must have known Helena was serious.
She held her breath as her feet shuffled quickly across the carpet. Jax's head snapped up. His voice was a low, drawn out cry as he asked, "Where are you going?"
Her mouth opened and closed, her lips quivering. Alexis spun to face him but kept her glassy stare turned to the ground. "I need to go," was all she could say. She bit down on her lip, her teeth leaving marks on the sensitive flesh.
"Go?" Jax stood suddenly, tears falling freely down his cheeks. "Why?"
"I can't tell you."
Jax shook his head and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling on the short blonde spikes. His eyes were screwed into tiny slants. The words seemed lodged in his throat as he choked out, "I need you. Here." He dropped to his knees, circling his arms around her legs and resting his head against her stomach. Her hands had nowhere to go except to tangle in his hair. "Please don't leave me too, Alexis. Please."
She felt his tears soaking against her shirt. If she had never allowed Chloe to wear her clothes, if she hadn't been so afraid of facing Helena once and for all, he wouldn't have a reason to cry. Alexis wanted to be strong enough for the both of them, but she felt like grieving for Chloe and offering comfort to Jax was a betrayal to them all. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed, sinking to her knees and drawing him into her arms. Her hands stroked his back, the warmth of her body and her breath beating against his skin the only comfort he needed.
"You shouldn't be alone either," Jax reminded her, squeezing his arms around her even tighter. "It wouldn't be good for any of us."
"You should hate me."
Jax lifted his head from the hollow of her shoulder. "What? Hate you?" He shook his head, tightening his grip around her waist. "I could never hate you."
"But this is all my fault," Alexis hollered, collapsing against his chest. "It's all my fault."
"No, Alexis. How many times do I have to tell you? It's Helena's fault. You did nothing. You had nothing to do with Chloe's....death." He stuttered on the final word, a sharp pain pricking his chest. Everyone he loved seemed to leave him; he wasn't going to voluntarily let go of Alexis.
She shook her head against his chest. "I could have prevented it! There are things you just don't understand."
"But I do know that I don't hate you. And I don't blame you. I just need you."
Alexis tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. She pressed a deep, lingering kiss to his neck and whispered, "I love you, Jax." In one fluid motion, she pushed his arms away from her waist and stood up. Alexis stumbled to the door, her hands shaking as she turned the knob.
"Don't leave," Jax chanted repeatedly. He threw his body across the floor, rising to his feet. He took hold of her face with force, her moist cheeks like fire beneath his palms. "Please. I can't stand to be alone right now."
"I'm sorry." Alexis tugged herself out of his grasp. She moved quickly into the hall and slammed the door shut.
Jax beat his fists against the door, each time with less force as exhaustion consumed his body. "Don't leave," he screamed out, his voice reverberating around him and out in the hall.
She could hear his cries as she waited for the elevator. Alexis gasped for breath and kicked her foot into the doors. "God dammit," she bellowed, darting for the stairs. Her feet skipped over each step as she practically tumbled down all the long, curved flights of stairs.
Alexis burst through the door and into the lobby, covering her face with her hands. She caused a scene as her body rammed into several hotel patrons. When she finally reached the double doors at the entrance, Alexis inhaled the bitter cold air and stood at the edge of the sidewalk. There were still tire marks from Chloe's "accident." She stepped onto the street, tracing their path. She stopped in the middle of the road where Chloe's limp body probably smacked the hard concrete. Alexis closed her eyes and could almost hear the screech of tires and see bright headlights zooming towards her.
Folding her arms around her upper body, she absently crossed the remainder of the street. She had no destination. The only item on her agenda was to put as much distance between herself and the people she loved. One death was enough, she couldn't risk Helena striking again.
Her eyes were glued to the ground and oblivious to the world around her. Alexis shivered as she thought about the horror Chloe must have felt, and the utter glee that was probably painted across Helena's face. She walked, following the path of gray moonlight shining on the sidewalk.
Bobbie's fists pounded against the door, her knuckles red from the abuse. She spread her fingers and smacked her palms against the rough wood. "Roy!" She called his name, pressing her ear against the door. Bobbie jiggled the doorknob and was surprised when it turned easily in her hand.
She walked into the small apartment, the scent of dust and stale pizza assaulting her senses. She laughed at the appearance of Roy's room. She would have thought living in a prison cell for twenty years would motivate a person to keep a well kept home. It was typical of him, she remembered.
Casually circling the floor, she knocked against the bathroom door. Receiving no reply, Bobbie asked aloud, "Where are you?" She ran her hands over his dresser and stopped to finger his watch. It was the same watch she had given him on his last birthday they spent together. The hands no longer moved in circles and the glass was scratched beyond repair, but he had obviously kept it close by for many years.
She stood at the foot of his bed. A black sweater was crumpled into a pile, draped over the mattress. Bobbie took it into her hands and buried her face in the warm material. Despite her mind's continuous reminder not to breakdown, she couldn't pull herself together.
Bobbie's shoulders began to shake. She stifled her tears, squeezing her eyes shut. She clutched the sweater tighter against her face. She hadn't allowed herself to realize just how big of an impact Jerry's illegal activities and fleeing Port Charles had on her. Of course she missed him, but more than anything she missed the way he made her feel. In his arms, Bobbie had felt young and as though she had her entire life ahead of her.
Bending her knees, she tumbled onto the bed. Her body rose up and down before settling against the hard mattress. Her cries were muffled by the sweater. Bobbie wanted nothing more than to hear the door open and for Roy to envelope her in his arms. He was her past. He felt like coming home after a long, tiresome journey. Jerry's appearance and request left her with tears, but it also left her with the will to move on. She didn't want to succumb to her sadness. She didn't want to feel like she needed someone or she would crumble.
Bobbie rolled onto her side, hugging the sweater to her chest. She curled her legs up to her stomach. She wiped her tears and prayed Roy would find her. He always seemed to be there when she needed someone.
He wanted his mother to hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be alright. He wanted his father to pat his back and remind him that for every hardship came a great joy. He wanted his brother to drag him to his feet, forcing a smile onto his face. Jax wanted his best friend to just sit with him. But she left.
Standing in front of the window, he felt a chill travel his spine as he was struck with an eerie sense of deja vu. It hadn't been long ago that he stood in the very spot studying the stars, praying Brenda was resting in peace. It hadn't been more than a few months since he stared into the vast stretch of sky, asking God to watch over his brother. And now he was pressing his hand against the glass to touch the stars and pray that Chloe was safe.
Roughly raking a hand through his disheveled hair, Jax turned away from the window. He flipped the switch and was surrounded by darkness, save for the thin ray of light the moon cast into the room. He wrapped a thin blanket around his body and threw himself on the couch. Jax drew the quilt up to his chin, holding it tightly between his fingers. When he closed his eyes, images he wanted to forget invaded him. When he opened them, his eyes deceived him. The reminder that he was actually alone was too painful.
Part of him wanted to hate Alexis for leaving him alone. But he couldn't even imagine how it would be to feel responsible for Chloe's death. He didn't blame Alexis, but he couldn't convince her that was true. If he didn't have Helena to hate, maybe he would blame his best friend out of anger.
"Please come home," he whispered into the thick air. He was finding it harder and harder to breathe. Jax had so many thoughts he needed to share with someone. Alexis wasn't the only one feeling guilt. In Chloe's last moments, he had said he loved her. It was an intense moment. He was panicking. But until that moment, he hadn't believed that he was in love. Jax still didn't know if his words had been true.
Pressing his back against the side of the couch, Jax let his eyes fall shut. He prayed that Chloe was happy wherever she was. He prayed they would all heal. Jax hoped that when he opened his eyes again, Alexis would be there. He prayed she would let him help her, that they could heal together.