Note: Nearly there. One more chapter, tops. Hope it's not boring ya *g*

No Island Paradise

Loss of Life

Peter Blake went through the motions, but he found it very hard to pretend he was still alive even for Abby's sake. His Jennifer was a lost cause – she didn't want him, and never would again. She once had, that was a truth neither of them could deny – even Jack Devereux would admit it under duress – but that was in the past. It'd taken Peter a long time to realise as much.

He had had his wish in the beginning, to spirit Jennifer and Abby away to his island paradise, but from there on things hadn't gone as planned. He'd been determined at first, so sure of his love for Jennifer and hers for him – buried under an animosity inspired by meddling Horton family members and pesky so-called friends of hers – that he knew any hurdle could be overcome. He'd pulled out all stops to win her love, and had swiftly won Abby over, but what he hadn't reckoned on was Abby's mother not responding at all to his efforts. In the past, back in Salem, she had fallen under his spell, but this time his charms had no effect on her. Still he persisted.

Time had worn on and he had made no real progress, though now and then he had seen what he perceived to be small signs that he was moving in the right direction. Looking back, he wondered if he hadn't completely imagined such signs. He had been a desperate man after all, particularly after he had learned that he had lost his sister. Kristen's untimely demise had shocked him to the core, and devastated him – his only flesh and blood in the world, gone. But it had also inspired him to fight harder for Jennifer's love, and he had thrown himself all the more devotedly into that task. Even so, he had made no progress; Jennifer's stare had remained passionless.

As he stood at one of the many windows in his mansion, catching a spectacular view of the windswept beach outside, more realisations dawned on him. For one, he realised that where Jennifer was concerned he'd been living in the past, remembering only the good times the two of them had shared. She had been living in the present – in the time after she learned of the things he had done to keep her love. While he refused to consider the grim present, she refused to consider the good parts of the past. In this way the two of them had been equally stubborn. This he saw with the gift of hindsight.

He supposed it was natural that Jennifer would have been remembering the things she saw as bad in him, rather than all the good that remained. Sometimes these days she said that he had no good left inside – that he had spent it all in kidnapping her and Abby – but he had never believed she was being entirely truthful. Times were changing.

He had always had a knack for justifying the bad things he had done in his life; he still believed that his motives had been admirable and understandable; but when Jennifer didn't feel that way, there was no use in him continuing to. He could talk to her till he was blue in the face and still nothing would change. For that reason he was going to make what was for him the ultimate sacrifice.

Everything had changed after that talk with Jenn on the beach a few nights ago. He had never seen her look at him with such raw emotion. It wasn't the kind of feeling he'd hoped to see in her eyes since he took her and Abby away with him years ago – it was shattering. In that moment his glass bubble had burst into a thousand shards, showering him with a stinging rain that made him flinch. He had been altered right then and there, on the spot.

Ever since, he had been avoiding her, at least emotionally. While he would obviously have to be around her, because she never let Abby out of her sight, and he was determined to spend as much time with his daughter before he had to say goodbye, he had managed to distance himself from Jenn for his own protection. Sometimes he caught Abby looking at him with a tinge of worry, and he hastily forced himself to be a better father, more attentive, for her. Children were always the main victims of their parents' disagreements, or so Peter had come to believe over the years, and even he knew better than to punish Abby for something she couldn't control.

Even I, he thought wryly, gazing out the window. He wasn't even sure what he was looking at anymore. Once upon a time he had loved the view from these windows, but even back in those days of hope they had seemed empty – lacking that familial touch he had craved all his life. That craving had been particularly prominent in Kristen's wake, and he had been fully prepared to have it sated. Jennifer and Abby had been his destiny; they had been going to transform everything so completely that he'd be left spinning. He'd been prepared, and had waited with open arms.

Jennifer had shunned his arms. She had shunned every part of him. Even though it might have made him angry on another day, it hadn't made him angry back on the beach a few days ago. Nor did it make him angry now, only incredibly sad. He was so empty without her. His life would be worthless when she was gone.

But go she would, for he was sending her.

"As it was almost from the beginning, so it will be in the end," he murmured darkly, and turned from the window into the shadows behind him. His eyes found the nearest mantle piece, and strangely were drawn immediately to the portrait of his departed sister, Kristen. He moved closer to it and his eyes stung with unshed tears. Why now was he feeling this loss so keenly? Because I'm about to lose everything, that's why, he thought, trailing a finger down the frame of Kristen's portrait. It's reminding me of what I've lost in the past.

In a way, though, perhaps he'd gain something when his last reason for living had disappeared. Perhaps I'll be with you soon, Krissy, one way or another. Not by choice, surely, but if fate brings me to you…I won't complain.

He shrugged to rid himself of this horrible feeling of grief, and headed for the door. In his last hours with his daughter, he'd stay strong for her. She, unlike her mother, still needed him.

*           *           *

"Come on, sweetie," Jennifer murmured, keeping a soft touch on her daughter's back as the two of them headed for the nearest flight of stairs. Jennifer carried her biggest suitcase in her other hand, and Abby held her own carry bag – a lion-headed thing that Peter had given her for last year's birthday. Of course Jennifer had been loathe to let her keep anything Peter gave her, but what other gifts would a little girl get in a place like this? There had to be some give and take when a woman was fighting to keep herself and her daughter sane.

"Mommy, where are we going?" Abby asked in her softly piping voice, pausing to peer back and up at her mother.

Jennifer too paused, crouching down beside the little girl and smiling brightly. "It's a nice surprise," she said with forced enthusiasm, hoping she was right and that Peter's plans weren't sinister. You had better be doing right by us, for once in your life, Jennifer told him silently, though he was not nearby currently and she could have spoken aloud. I'd sooner kill you than let you hurt my baby even more.

"Daddy said we were going on a trip," Abby responded, eyes wide and shining.

"He's not your daddy, honey," Jennifer said softly, repeating what she had said a million times already. Abby looked hurt, and Jennifer added, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you have to remember what the truth is. He's Peter, not daddy. He does…care for you…but you and I don't belong here. You have a daddy in another place who loves you to pieces."

"Why doesn't that daddy come and get us?" Abby asked, frowning.

"He…" Jennifer hated this – not knowing what on earth to say to her little girl. It was torture, trying to find the right answers that wouldn't be psychologically damaging one way or another. Jennifer had always tried to be fair, even if that meant refraining from insulting Peter in her daughter's hearing. "Your daddy will find us one day."

"Is he resting?" Abby inquired.

"What do you mean, sweetie?"

"Is he resting from looking for us?"

Jennifer sighed inwardly. "No, baby. Daddy never stopped looking for us. And remember grandma? She used to pick you up and twirl you around – you were her princess! And great-grandma…"

Jennifer's voice grew softer as she and Abby drew farther away. It would be the last time her voice graced this portion of the mansion that had been commissioned by Peter Blake all those years ago.