Author: Normative Jean
Title: Chaos Theory
Rating: K+-T; or nothing worse than the show. Chapters with language have specific warnings
Disclaimer: I don't own General Hospital. Orignal characters (created by me) still exist within the confines of a pre-existing universe. I do this out of love for GH.
Category: adventure/mystery/romance
Pairing: Robin/Patrick, Lulu/OC, Sam/Jason, Sam/OC (later)
Author's notes: I started writing this fic back in March for the Scrubs board. This stars Robin and Patrick,
but features other characters as well, some old, some new, and some of whom you might not expect to see in a Scrubs-centric fic. It begins during the 3/20 episode, but veers off from canon after Robin storms out of Jakes, post-apology; the final Robin/Patrick scene in GH where they worry about what happened to Noah never happened in my universe. As you can probably guess, character development also veered away from canon a long time ago.
Summary: The epidemic was just a experiment, and it was deemed a failure; it's mastermind is now targeting the only doctor he believes can make the experiment a success: Robin Scorpio. Robin finds herself trapped in the middle of an international mystery, on the run from an old family enemy she believed long dead. Patrick Drake is determined not to let anything mess up his chances at happiness with Robin, even if it means going along for the ride. Along with old friends and unexpected allies, can they keep Robin safe and stop a plot to take over the world?
Prologue
Three days before the epidemic
The moment one of his operatives in the Markham Islands had sent word that a suspicious American had come through the resort, the plan began forming in his brain. Upon receipt of photo identification of the American in question, the man had not been able to contain a chuckle of delight. If the pieces had been moved into a more perfect position, he would have suspected divine intervention. Of course, that would have required a belief in the divine, which the man did not possess. A belief in Devane intervention, however...the man laughed at his own humor.
Really, it had been too long since he had seen old friends.
Proof of Luke Spencer so far from home had given the man a golden opportunity to see if the rumors were true. In his business, sometimes all he had were rumors and speculation, and now there was a chance to pull other old friends out of hiding if he could manipulate the Spencer situation perfectly. The man was many things, but slow-witted was not one of them.
It was like chess, he mused, where the pieces were people and the world was the game board. The man had always had a brilliant mind for chess.
So he had made his move. Current development was moved halfway across the world and quickly transplanted to the Markham Islands; it would look makeshift and secretive, which was exactly what the man wanted. Few things caused more fear in the Good Guys than crazy doctors operating without appropriate safety protocols. Research in place, the man had begun using the appropriate back-channels to let word of a new outbreak reach the appropriate ears. If rumors were to be believed, then one of the people tracking the new virus was just who the man had wanted to see. So he moved the pieces into place, making sure his lead operative in the Islands was firmly situated within the household that pulled Luke Spencer away from the resort and into the village. It required precise timing, certainly, but the man was nothing if not patient and methodical.
He stood there now, looking down at the unconscious body of his old adversary. Luke had always been a worthy opponent, but the man ruefully acknowledged he had more important things to be concerned with. Glancing down at his hand, he gazed at the photograph of a young woman with haunting eyes. "Soon," he murmured.
"Sir?" The man's senior operative stood at attention before his commanding officer, his deep African accent dropped for the clipped British one with which he really spoke. The man looked from Luke to his operative, and wondered, with some disappointment, when the great Luke Spencer had become so gullible.
"Yes, Norman?" the man replied.
"Everything is in place, sir. The laboratories, agents, and researchers are ready. They know who to be looking for."
"Excellent. And the virus?"
"Spencer has been made a carrier. Wherever he goes from here, it will go with him."
"Well done. Now, we must get this cleaned up. Leave no trace of our presence." The man looked pointedly at his operative. "You know the protocols."
"Indeed. Are you heading back to headquarters?"
"No. I'm afraid I must return to the States for a time. I have a...most effective cover operation there."
The man dismissed his operative. In a passing moment of weakness, the man wondered if he wouldn't derive more satisfaction from simply shooting Luke in the head, but let the thought go. The most important thing at the moment was to test the new virus for viability in broader field operations. The current research team -- who, the man noted with distaste, had been paid handsomely -- were having difficulties translating their theories into applications. So far, the virus only caused individual hallucinations and mental instability, not the controlled mental pliancy the man and his organization were hoping for. They needed new blood, a new mind to look at the problems and develop solutions.
Looking back at the photograph in his hand, the man wondered if the young woman who had been nothing more than a mere child the last time he had seen her would be the one to fix things. If she had the brilliance the medical world was rumoring she had, then the man could scarcely wait to have her working in his laboratories.
He wondered just how much like her mother the girl really was.
And if the current operation proved fruitful, then the man would be able to force his old nemesis to rise from the dead, and bring the associated destruction in his wake. He wondered if the girl had her mother's fire and her father's stubbornness, and he hoped to exploit both traits in his future endeavors.
After all, world domination was all well and good, but revenge always sweetened things.
Looking up at the stars, the man turned and faced east, the direction of the United States, of New York, of Port Charles. "Soon," the man said to the eastern sky. "Everything will fall into place soon enough. Then it will be time to visit some old friends."
The man signaled the rest of his operations team, and they boarded their organization's newest stealth air vehicle, taking off silently into the night. If the rumors were true, then his old friend would be moving in soon to "contain" the outbreak. Knowing Luke as he did, the man felt confident that Spencer would revive and be gone long before the dead walked again. Port Charles would never see any of it coming.
Like game pieces, the man had maneuvered everything into place.
Checkmate.