Necessary Evil

Chapter Thirty-Four
FF#252: Your best friend sticking up for you even when I know you're wrong.

"Jason Morgan! If you don't answer this damn door in five seconds, I'm going to sue you and have your sorry ass tied up in petty legal technicalities and complicated litigation for years! And you know that I'm more than qualified to…" Just then, the door cracked open, and a hand snaked out, grabbing her by the forearm and propelling her forward and into the penthouse apartment. "Well, that certainly was the rude."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Do not yell at me," she snapped, meeting the angry man's piercing blue gaze, stare for stare. "My best friend was sexually assaulted in her own home last night, because of you need I remind us both of the facts, and you didn't bother to even call me. Don't you think that Elizabeth might have needed me, that she might have wanted to talk to a woman after what she went through, that she might have…"

"Alexis," the blonde interrupted her, gesturing towards the stairs behind them. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Whirling around, the attorney came face to face with an implausibly smirking Elizabeth Webber. Why, the nerve of that stupid, stubborn, inappropriately chipper girl…

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Arguing, the older woman pointed out, "but you were…"

"Attacked, humiliated, scared out of my mind," the artist filled in. "Yeah, pretty much all the above and more, but I'm really okay." Watching the young couple before her look at each other, sharing a secret, knowing glance, she waited for her best friend to continue, already prepared for the brunette to say more. "But then I came here, and Jason… he was wonderful."

Frowning, Alexis asked, "why do I have the feeling we're suddenly speaking in double entendres. No, wait," she held up her hands, stopping either from answering. "I really don't want to know."

For the first time since he had pointed out Elizabeth's entrance to the room, Jason spoke up again. "I think I should leave the two of you alone."

But he only managed to take three steps away before the attorney had him by the scruff of his shirt and was holding him back. "Oh, I don't think so, Desi. You have some explaining to 

do. Like for starters," the older woman ordered, glaring at the blonde. "How the hell did this happen, and, by the time you're done with your story, it better end with: 'and this is what I plan to do about it.'"

"Alexis, I really can't talk to you about this. It's business."

"No," she challenged, charging him with her index finger poised in judgment before her. "Business is me selling your property for you. Business is wire transferring that money into an account that belongs to Joe Smith so that you and Elizabeth have a little nest egg when you eventually take her away from me. Business is helping you find a property in Italy to settle down on."

Breathlessly behind them, the twenty-two year old exclaimed, "we're going to Italy?"

Jason went to answer her, but, stopping him mid word, she screamed irrationally, "business is not planning to kill the man who sexually assaulted my best friend. That's personal, Morgan, and you damn well know it, and, for the first time in my life, I'm going to condone violence, because that pig needs to pay for what he did to Elizabeth."

"Hello, said woman is still in the room."

Spinning around, Alexis addressed the young friend. "Just give me a second okay. I'm in the middle of negotiations." Turning back to the man before her, she stated unequivocally, "I want in."

"I can't allow that."

"And I don't remember asking for your permission. Now, you can either do this with me and get away with it, or you can muck it up and go to prison. Your choice."

Jason narrowed his gaze in her direction, practically assessing her. Finally, he queried, "are you offering to give me legal counsel on this matter? Couldn't you lose your license to practical law if you were caught having knowledge of a crime prior to it being perpetrated and did nothing to prevent it."

"Only if you get caught, and I'm too good of an attorney to let that happen," she boasted. "Now, granted, criminal law isn't my specialty, but I know a hell of a lot more about it than you do. So, without further posturing, tell me what I want to know."

The blonde nodded, holding out his hand for the still observing artist to join them. After they took seats, Jason and Elizabeth on the couch side by side, and Alexis in the chair across from them, he began. "Ric Lansing, the man who attacked Elizabeth, is a free agent my father hired to help him get information on me."

"And what did he hope to accomplish with this information?"



Without emotion or pause, he responded, "Alan was going to use it to control me. Through all the information we've been able to piece together, his goal was to run this organization himself, but, to do so, he needed a figurehead."

"Yes," the attorney quipped, mouth pinched tightly into a scowl, "suddenly I'm not feeling so sorry about his death. Proceed, please."

"We think that Ric killed my father, both to eliminate him and also to get his hands on my father's extensive records…"

"Records," the older woman filled in, following the trail of information effortlessly, "that would enable him to seize control of the organization himself. He's gotten rid of your father, and, now, he's coming after you… through Elizabeth. So, what's next?"

"We need to find out just how much he knows and if he's passed along his information to anyone else," Jason informed her, "and, once we've acquired secured this knowledge, that's when we'll move."

"That's when you'll kill him."

/ / /

"Will this be suitable for you, Mr. Lansing?"

Already reaching into his briefcase to pull out files, the younger man didn't bother to meet the bank manager's gaze as he responded. "It's fine."

"This is our most secure type of safe deposit box, Sir," the sycophant murmured softly. Despite the fact that the bank had long since been closed and that he had arranged to procure and fill a safe deposit box during the establishment's after hours when, usually, the only people there would be cleaning crew and a useless, rent-a-cop security guard, for some reason, the fool of a director felt as if he still needed to speak in a hushed tone. "Not only does it require your key, mine, and your signature, but, after you lock it, you'll have to input a code only you know, and that code will have to be entered again if you wish to access the box at any time."

"Wonderful," Ric dismissed rudely, noticing but not particularly caring that he had effectively hurt the older man's feelings. Instead, he simply said, "if you could just shut up for a few minutes, I'd appreciate it. The sooner I finish here, the sooner we both can leave."

"Fine by me, Sir."

As it was by him as well.

The word out on the street was that Sonny Corinthos had murdered Lucky Spencer that evening, igniting and setting off a chain of events the don was entirely unprepared for. But, while the current organized crime boss of Port Charles might be an incompetent, Ric sure as 

hell was not. Sonny's actions would prove to be a distraction to everyone else, including Jason Morgan, and, while no one was paying any attention to him, he'd slip in and make his next move. But, with any action while attempting a coup d'état, there was risk, and he wasn't going to be caught unawares if the worst happened. So, with that in mind, he had cleaned out his hotel room, procured a safety deposit box to store and keep all of the deceased Alan Morgan's important paperwork in, and made arrangements for a fake alibi for himself. He was so close to getting everything he wanted, he could practically taste it, and it tasted like well-deserved and long overdue victory.

/ / /

Carly was already in bed when she heard Patrick come home from the hospital that night, but, unlike most evenings, she didn't get up to greet him. Instead, she remained still, waiting for him to come to her. Curled up on her side, her brown eyes wide open from both fear and memories, she simply watched the shadows of the room dance around her, proof enough that life was moving on fast while she was still caught in a slow moment from the near past.

"Hey," her boyfriend greeted her. She could hear the smile in his voice. "Now, this is exactly what every man wants to come home to. Screw a home cooked dinner. I'll take a sexy woman in my bed over steak and potatoes any night." He chuckled at his own comments, kissing her bare shoulder, but, when she didn't react, the blonde could feel him pull back. "Is something wrong?"

"I just had a long day. I'm tired."

Concern entered Patrick's voice. "Carly?"

Rolling over onto her back, the interior decorator met his gaze, offering him a tight but convincing smile. "Really, I'm fine. I got home too late last night to tell you, but I got a new client, and he just… well, he just might be more trouble than he's worth."

"Demanding?"

"I guess you could say that," she commented, wrinkling her brow. "He's also rigid, unforgiving, a control freak, and he won't take no for an answer."

Her boyfriend grinned down at her, making Carly smirk. "Sounds like someone else I know. Perhaps you two were just too alike to work together."

Instantly, she sobered. "No," the blonde snapped, rolling back over and turning her body on the man she lived with, refusing to face him even when he pulled gently on her shoulder. "That's not it at all."

Although sleep came easily for Patrick that evening, the same couldn't be said for her. Rather, she remained awake long after the doctor's gentle snores began to fill their spacious bedroom, feeling haunted, guilty. Lucky Spencer's dead, lifeless eyes confronted her 

whenever she tried to close her own heavy lids. Luke Spencer's shell shocked face lingered in her memory long after her words from earlier that day faded. And, most unforgettably, her boyfriend's words taunted her.

"I am nothing like Sonny Corinthos," Carly defended, wiping a single solitary tear away in frustration and anger. "Nothing at all."

/ / /

It was late into the night, actually early the next morning, when Alexis, Jason, and Elizabeth stood from their seats in the penthouse's sparsely furnished living room, having finally just finished hammering out the very last details of their revised, lawyer approved plan. Each showed their own separate signs of fatigue. The painter leaned heavily against her boyfriend, allowing him to physically support her as all three of them stood around, making small talk and saying goodnight, while the boyfriend himself had to fight back several telling yawns. And the oldest of all three of them slumped visibly, her usual perfect posture ruined by fatigue.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here, Alexis," Jason offered one last time. "The guest room's never been used before, but it's there and yours is you want it."

"Thank you but no. I think the two of you need your privacy, and I have an early court case in the morning, so I should really head back to my own place. I'll just call a cab…"

"Or one of the men could take you," Elizabeth suggested, glancing up at the man she loved for silent approval and permission for her idea. It was given without hesitation.

"Thanks but no thanks," the attorney begged off. "That's really not necessary, and, no offense, you two, but, with everything going on, I think I'll steer clear of any Corinthos-Morgan vehicles for the next several days.

The three of them made their way to the front door, Jason opening it while the two women embraced affectionately. "Thank you," the twenty-two year old whispered in her much older friend's ear, "for everything."

"Just bake me a batch… or ten batches of brownies," Alexis teased, "and we'll consider it even."

With a slight wave, she exited the penthouse and boarded the elevator, finally breathing freely once the doors to the lift closed, separating her from the rest of the world and offering her some much needed privacy for quiet, personal introspection. After a moment, surprisingly, she realized that, despite everything, her conscious was still clear.

Apparently, she really was a Cassadine.