Palermo, Italy
April 1987

The night was dark and stormy, he had sent the staff home early to ensure safe travels, but also to get some time to himself without someone underfoot. Since he lost his wife, it seemed as if everyone around him just couldn't stand to see him alone, completely forgetting the man they are dealing with.

Making his way upstairs, Maximus checks on his oldest son then his youngest, thankful to see that the storm hasn't stirred them from their slumbers. Leaving their doors slightly ajar, he makes his way back downstairs to the den, needing a stiff drink to help him get through the night. She had always loved storms, it was her belief that each storm that passes through is heaven's way of washing away the sins, leaving the world pure.

"How do you explain the way the world looks after a big storm?" she had asked him one night as they stood by the sliding door leading to the patio. "Or the way it smells? A good storm every now and again is just what the world needs. Trust me."

"Whatever you say, my love," he whispered back, not wanting to contradict her belief, almost wishing he could see it the way she does. "Heaven gave me my saving grace the day you found it in your heart to love a fool like me."

"Oh, hush you," she said as she turned in his arms, interlocking her fingers at his nape. "My husband is no fool. You'll do good to remember that."

During heavy storms like the one pouring that night, he can almost feel her leaning against his body, staring out at the storm as it rages outside. When the house goes silent, he can faintly hear her humming with the wind, like she was the storm and she existed in unison with the rain and the wind.

He was just about to pour himself another drink when the sound of the doorbell rings through the air. Hitting the intercom, he tries to get ahold of the guards, getting no response. Keeping his composure, he reaches for his cellphone, finding that there was no signal. Weird. Accepting the next logical step, he grabs his weapon from his desk before making his way to the door.

Looking through the peephole, he doesn't see anything, just the storm raging on the other side. Confusion setting in more than anything else, Maximus opens the door, stunned to his core when he finds a little girl standing on his porch. Glancing around, he finds his men knocked unconscious, the atmosphere damn near eerie, and then there's the girl.

Skin as white as snow, hair dark and wild, eyes as icy blue as the arctic sea, completely out of place standing there on his front porch. Something in the little girl's eyes, he couldn't place it, but something about it reminded him so much of his late wife. She had the look of nature, peaceful and still in the chaos that is life.

"Hi, sweet girl," he voices, squatting to meet her at her level. "Where are your parents?"

When she doesn't reply, he tries in Italian, hoping something will get this girl to speak, but nothing. After a moment, she holds her hand out to him, a letter clutched in her grasp. Understanding what she was trying to say, Maximus takes the letter from her grasp, reading it over before shaking his head.

Rising to his feet, he holds his hand out to the girl, waiting for her to get up the courage to take hold of his hand. Bringing her into the house, he sets her up on a high chair before making her a little something to eat, seeing that she was clearly hungry. Once she starts eating, Maximus checks the landline to see if it's working, placing calls to his enforcer and his lawyer to figure out what comes next.

"You are so lucky my date had to cancel at the last minute," Vera, his lawyer, says seriously when she walks into the kitchen. "What's with the passed-out guards? Better question, what's with the kid?"

"That's why I called you," Maximus explains. "As for the guards, Matteo's handling it, from the looks of it they were just knocked out."

"Small miracles," Vera replies as she looks over at the little girl eating the ice cream, blissfully unaware of the situation she's in. "She come with a letter?"

"If you can call it that," he confirms, handing her the paper the girl had been clutching onto. "Just a request to take care of her."

"It names you directly, but no mention of the girl's name or where she came from," Vera lets out a heavy sigh, finding this entire situation to be suspect. "What do you want to do?"

"It says she doesn't have anyone, I want you to make sure that's true."

"I'll get my contact in the police department to run her photo through missing persons off the books," Vera assures. "The question being, what are you going to do if the letter's right?"

"If she has no one else," Maximus says, glancing at the little girl, his heart caught in his throat when she lifts her gaze to look at him, a soft smile touching the little girl's lips. "I'll adopt her."

"Are you sure?" Vera questions. "There are more than enough children's homes available..."

"I made my choice," Maximus cuts her off. "Find her family or make her my family. Understood?"

"Understood," Vera accepts. "I'll work it and let you know the outcome either way."

Once Vera heads out, he calls the nanny, apologizing for waking her at such a late her and informing her of the situation once she gets to the kitchen. He isn't sure where this girl came from or why she has been placed in his life, but he does know that she needs his help and he will give her that.

Once the nanny takes the girl upstairs to wash up and put her to bed, Maximus checks in with Matteo to make sure he has things handled before calling it a night. Turning in bed, just before the fatigue pulls him under, Maximus stares at the picture of his late wife, wondering if it was her that put this little girl in his path. He honestly wouldn't put it past her.

...

Present Day

Late into the night, damn near early morning, Maximus sits up in his home office waiting on the call from his daughter. No matter how old they get, he just can't seem to loosen his grip when it comes to their safety. He knows they are capable, hell, he taught them most of what they know, but it's a father's burden, he supposes, to worry. Especially now that they've missed their check-in window. Logically he knows that they'll call once they're settled, but the logic just isn't as important to him in this situation.

"About time you called," he says the moment he answers the phone on the first ring. "Are you allergic to giving your old man some peace of mind?"

"Dramatic much, father?" she counters, the playful tone in her voice putting him at ease. "Besides, who are you calling old? Until you stop being capable of taking down the best of them, you're not qualified to call yourself old."

"I take it things have gone smoothly so far?"

"So far," she confirms. "We're taking the night to recharge. I'll update you once we start making progress."

"And your reception?"

"Accommodating," she assures. "They've even given us an entire arsenal. If only all our allies were as accommodating."

"In a perfect world," he chuckles. "It's good to know you'll be well taken care of while you're there."

"Careful, father," Elizabeth counters. "You're entering into dangerous territory talking like that."

"Funny," Maximus replies simply. "Just keep your head on a swivel and make sure you all come back home in one piece, you hear me?"

"I hear you," she assures. "Now hear me and go to bed. It's nearing three in the morning there. You need to be on top of your game while we're gone."

"Sure," Maximus smiles softly, knowing that she always worries about him when they're out on assignment almost as much as he worries for them. "Be sure to check in reasonably."

"You got it," she replies. "Love you, father."

"I love you, too, sweet girl," Maximus says wholeheartedly. "Talk to you soon."

Waiting for the line to go dead, never able to bring himself to end the call when it's his children, Maximus lets out a deep breath before placing the receiver back on the hook. No matter how many assignments he sends them on, he can never find it in himself to not worry about them. In times like this, times when his worry takes hold of him, he has to remind himself that they are more than capable of handling what needs handling.

He has paid for them to be trained by the best of the best, pulling favors with soldiers to ensure that his children will always have the skills necessary to stay alive. Even with knowing that, though, the fear still finds him. All it takes is a stray bullet, a lucky shot, and it could all be over. Despite it all, he knows that he can't keep them locked away and they are the best in his organization.

Pouring himself a drink, he downs it swiftly before accepting that it's time to call it a night. The fear will always be there, that's been made abundantly clear, but his confidence in their abilities and who they are as people will always outweigh the fear.

...

Port Charles

Elizabeth always finds it touching to hear her father call her sweet girl, especially given her reputation in their world and the things she has done in her line of work. For her father to still see the little girl in her and also trust her to do what she has to do to get the job done, that level of trust is something she swears she'll never take for granted.

The day she approached him about entering the family business resonates through her daily, completely intertwined into every fiber of her being. Immediately she saw the fear and the doubt, but he heard her out and he accepted her choice. Instead of giving her the usual women in the business speech, he worked tirelessly to ensure she was well trained and equipped to handle the life.

For a long time after he approved her request, she had been stuck in the mindset that she had to prove her worth, that she couldn't fail under any circumstances. She had to be the perfect soldier. The perfect daughter. Of course, perfection is nothing but a pipe dream and she learned that the hard way. It was then that her father told her that she had nothing to prove.

No matter the assignment, no matter the obstacle that lies in her path, as long as she gets back home in one piece, that's all he can ask of her. Live. That's all he needs from her. Whether the assignment is a success or not, as long as she lives to see another day, they will figure another way to get the job done. With that mentality, she was able to see past her perception and eventually she found her rhythm.

Along with her brothers, she tackled each and every training set before her, working not for perfection but for pure knowledge. Slowly but surely, she took the lessons in, studied and mastered them, before moving on to the next lesson. For all the million random decisions that had to have come together to place her in this family, Elizabeth's thankful to whatever fate brought her to them. She truly doesn't know where she'd be or who she'd be without them.

"Goodnight, father," Elizabeth whispers as she snuggles into the bed, her hand clutching the locket he had made for her on her sixteenth birthday.

Author's Note: Thanks for coming along for the ride. This came from a dream and is purely written for fun. Just a little mental break while I figure out the direction for the other two stories. Thanks.