Necessary Evil

Chapter Two
FF#262: The Most Amazing Woman

Patrick Webber strolled into The No Name after a long shift at the hospital, eager to talk to his baby sister. It didn't matter how tired he was or how seductive his king sized bed sounded at that particular moment, this, breakfast with Elizabeth, was an everyday ritual, and he wasn't going to let a twelve hour shift in the ER get in his way. Since they were ten and eighteen respectively, the mornings had always been their time together. Whether she got a ride to the college he was attending before school or he went home to eat a bowl of cereal with her, not a day had passed in eleven years that they had not seen or talked to each other over breakfast. In fact, he didn't know what he would do without his younger sibling. She was the most important person in his life, and he knew she felt the same way about him. Growing up in the Webber household, their amazing bond had been necessary, and, even though she was now twenty-one and independent and he was twenty-nine and a successful doctor, they still needed each other.

"I don't see why you continue to work her, Immy," he said, calling her by her childhood nickname, a nickname she hated because it was inspired by her dreaded middle name. "It's not like you need the money. The shop is doing well."

"It is," she agreed, sliding him a cup of steaming hot coffee across the sparkling clean bar, "but it's not like I have anything better to do with my mornings. Why not stock away some money for a rainy day? A girl never knows what the future could hold for her, and I, for one, like to be prepared for anything."

And that was Elizabeth – responsible, organized, and ridiculously mature. It was a good thing he had her in his life to keep him in line. As soon as she had graduated from high school, she had left their parents' home, moved in with him, and started working immediately. All the money she made was stocked away so that, after two years of working nonstop, she could afford to open up her own art supply store downtown where she not only sold all the accoutrements an artist could ask for but also offered classes to the public, some of which she taught herself. The store was doing well, but she still remained at the The No Name, trading in her evening bartending shift for the morning set up one.

"So," she drawled out, snapping the young neurosurgeon out of his thoughts, "did anything exciting happen at the hospital last night?"

"Not really, but I did have a patient with a penchant for video games, so we pretended his case was more serious than it was and got in a few rounds on the Wii."

"And with your personal life," his baby sister prompted him, "any changes there since yesterday morning."

Now that was the conversation Patrick had wanted to avoid. Normally, he told Elizabeth everything, but, for the first time in their relationship, they had found a point of contention – his girlfriend. The two women hated each other and made no attempt to get along. Deciding he would rather broach the subject of Carly on a full stomach, the doctor stood up from his stool and moved around to rummage behind the bar for something to eat.

"What's for breakfast this morning? I'm starving." The icy glare the petite brunette directed towards him hit its mark and he slipped back into his seat. "Or maybe I'm not hungry."

"I am the queen of avoidance tactics, Patrick, so you're going to have to try something else." Fisting her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes in concentration. "What did that shrew do this time?"

"Carly didn't do anything. It's me; I did something."

That brought a smile to her beautiful face. Excitement laced her next words. "You broke up with her?"

With a loud thump, his head fell to the top of the bar, smearing the mahogany. Mumbling, the neurosurgeon answered, "I asked her to move in with me."

The last thing he had expected was to hear his baby sister laugh, but that's exactly what she did.

"Immy?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized hastily, wiping the tears of mock mirth that had formed at the corners of her indigo eyes. "I could have sworn that you said you invited your piranha of a girlfriend to move in with you, but I know that I must be mistaken, because I live with you, and, as my big brother who just so happens to respect me, you would have asked my opinion first before going and doing something so incredibly stupid, right?"

"With our schedules," he tried to sooth her anger, "you'll hardly ever see her."

"Living on the same continent with that woman is more than enough torture already, and now you're asking me to cohabitate with her? This is something I would expect from Mom and Dad, Patrick, but not you."

"I know you want me to say that I'm sorry and you want me to beg for your forgiveness and run to Carly and rescind my offer, but I'm not going to," he prefaced his next words. "I love you, Immy. For a long time, it was just you and me against the world, but my life is different now. I'm dating someone, we're in a serious relationship, and I want to take this next step. I'm not going to apologize for falling in love with someone. Not all of us," he accused, "are satisfied with living our life alone."

"I'm not alone. I have you, I have my friends,…"

"And you have never even once attempted an adult relationship," the doctor challenged. "I realize that our parents were the worst possible example of marriage that you could have seen growing up, but you can't close yourself off for the rest of your life, Elizabeth."

She smirked. "And I suppose you think your relationship with Carly should be my model of domestic bliss." Adding an element of sarcasm to her voice, she taunted, "hold my hair back for me; I think I'm going to sick."

"You have no room to criticize. At least I'm willing to date."

"Yeah, and you go out and pick up the one woman who will inevitably hurt you, Patrick," his younger sibling yelled, pounding her fists against the bar in emphasis. "The only reason she's with you is because you're a doctor, you have money, and she thinks she looks good prancing around town with a Webber on her arm. Just as soon as some bigger fish comes along, you'll be yesterday's old news, broken hearted, and, in all likelihood, even more jaded than I am."

Having heard enough and not wanting to fight anymore, Patrick stood up from his stool and gathered his keys to leave. With one last glance towards his sister, he said, "Carly stays which means you have a choice to make. You can either put aside your petty dislike of my girlfriend and learn to get along with her or you can move out. I'll see you at home later, and, when I do, I'll be expecting your answer."

As the door slammed shut behind the neurosurgeon, he realized that his relationship with the most important person in his life had just shifted. The tables had turned, and he felt confused and off kilter, but he also refused to back down. Even if Elizabeth was right and Carly did eventually hurt him, he would not sit back and allow his life to run him; unlike his sister, he was determined to run his own life and that included taking risks, even if said risks could cost him everything.

Francis Corelli was a quiet man, an observant one. He was a firm believer that one could learn more by simply staying quiet and listening. After all, what could a man learn from his own thoughts? Personal thoughts were based upon knowledge one had already acquired; new knowledge came from the people, the things, and the situations one surrounded themselves with. From his boss, Sonny Corinthos, he learned survival techniques and cooking recipes, an odd combination, he realized, but a useful one nonetheless. From the doc, he learned about business policies, medical advances, and the occasional political tidbit. From his best friend, one moody, brooding, and rather melancholic Jason Morgan, he learned patience, perseverance, and odd trivia. And, currently, as he sat in a secret meeting with his best friend, he finally learned the reason behind the younger man's gloomy outlook on life – a woman.

He should have known.

"So, let me get this straight," the guard asked, "you want me to organize a shift of guards to watch over this woman… this Elizabeth Webber… without either your father or Mr. Corinthos finding out about it?"

"Yes."

"Jason, I'm not sure about this."

"Listen," the younger man begged of him. "I've never asked you to do something like this before, partially because you're my friend and I didn't want to put you in this position and partially because I never wanted to take advantage of a business I want to be no part of, but this is important; she's important to me."

Sitting back in his chair, Francis observed the blonde haired, blue eyed recluse across from him. He bled sincerity, and, realizing that this woman meant so much to his best friend hurt him, because Jason had never bothered to tell him about her before. "Are you seeing her?"

"No, but I want to be." Sighing, he explained. "When we met, she had just turned eighteen and she wasn't ready for anything more serious than a passing acquaintance, but three years have passed now."

"But you're friends, right?"

"Well," the younger man smirked, "we had chemistry the one time we talked."

"Wait a minute," Francis demanded. "Are you telling me that you're putting guards on a woman you barely know?" Laughing softly at his friend, he pressed, "you've got to give me a little something more to go on here."

"I've kept an eye on her myself for the past three years, made sure she was alright while biding my time until I knew she was ready for…"

"For a relationship with the future heir of the Corinthos empire," the guard prompted.

"You know that's not going to happen. No matter what, I refuse to take over the business."

"I know that, and you know that, but no one else does," the Italian pointed out. "To the rest of the world, the minute Elizabeth Webber becomes a visible presence in your life, she'll be marked, tainted, and at risk."

"That's why you're going to help me make sure she's safe," Jason directed his friend.

"So you're going to ask her out?"

"For now, I'm just going to be her friend," the younger man explained. "I need to make sure she's comfortable with me first. She's…," he paused to search for the right word, "kind of scared."

"Of you?"

"Of relationships."

"And you've found all this out by standing in the shadows and keeping an eye on her for the past three years?"

"You're not the only one who's observant, Frannie," Jason teased him. "And I did some research."

"A fact I hope you keep from Miss Webber." He watched as his best friend dismissed his concerns with a flick of his wrist, knowing that would be the only response the blonde would give him. Finally, he took a calming breath before answering the original request. "Alright, I'll do it; I'll set up a shift of guards. I imagine you want us to keep our distance, that we're to remain unseen?"

"Of course."

He stood up to leave, crossed the penthouse, but stopped just as his hand touched the doorknob. "May I ask you one more thing about the situation?" Jason nodded his acceptance, so he proceeded. "Why now? Why, after three years and not even a mention of her existence, are you in such a hurry to place guards on this woman? Did something happen? Did someone approach her, figure out the connection you have with her?"

"She just moved out of her brother's apartment," the younger man answered wearily, collapsing onto his couch and pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's alone for the first time in her life, and it doesn't matter how brave she pretends to be with the rest of the world, I know she's scared. She's lonely, she's furious and feeling alienated from her brother, and she's on edge. I can't sit by and watch her be unhappy, Francis."

"But instead of going to her and telling her how you feel, you remain here, hidden away from the rest of the world, miserable. I'll do this for you, I'll keep her safe, but you're going to have to make a move sooner or later. Stalking her for the rest of your life is not going to be enough, and, if this girl is worth it, she deserves more than that from a man who claims to care so much about her. Think about that," the guard directed him, "and, when you're ready to make a move, I'm here to help."

Silence was the only response he got, but, expecting nothing else, Francis Corelli left his best friend alone, having learned far more from watching and listening to Jason Morgan than the man had voluntarily admitted. His observation skills never failed.