A/N: sorry for the lack of updates. I've been uber-busy these past FOREVER but I finally have a break. I have nothing to do, and I don't work again until Thursday so I'm taking this lovely down time to give you this update...please, no. hold your applause. it was nothing really.

Ch. 13 Morning Calls

"He's cold." he stated simply.

"See a weapon around?" the one cuffing her asked, holding her upper arm to prevent her from attempting a getaway.

"Gotcha" he announced, finding the discarded firearm on the ground. He refrained from touching or moving it, so he wouldn't disrupt the scene before the forensics team could arrive. "Get her to the car. Press is going to have a field day with this, they're probably swarming the place already."

The others nodded and she was soon being lead out of the apartment and down the elevator. The front door to the building opened and she was instantly blinded by bright flashes of cameras.

Courtney opened her eyes and glanced around the dim room until she saw the clock.

4:51a.m.

She sighed and pulled herself out from the soft bed, though to her it might as well have been a concrete slab. It was nearly five in the morning and this was already the fourth time she had woken up. Her bare feet hit the floor and carried her down the stairs. The early morning was quiet and distributed the illusion of peace and serenity. The sun wasn't up yet. Or maybe it was. She sighed when she saw that the dark clouds still hovered above them. They had been hanging there for days and had yet to release a single drop of moisture.

Courtney wondered if they would ever stop taunting everything and rain already. Honestly, she was beginning to hate the rain. It seemed l like everything she'd once loved had been tainted one way or another. The most painful of them all had to be the rain. Sure she was haunted by memories; at the loft, the park, Kelly's, just Port Charles in general. But she could always move and run from those. But she couldn't run from the rain, or the reminders that came with it. She couldn't run from the feel of his hands on her face, or the taste of his against hers as the water fell around them.

If they were still together it would be a blessing to be on an island with him in a storm. His arms would be around her, as if to shield her from the world, while they laid warm in bed. But they weren't, and would never be again. She felt the sting of tears but refused to let them fall. She was so sick of tears. She thought that she had gained control of herself and the hollow space she felt inside.

She hadn't realized how long she'd sat there letting her mind wander, until she heard his footsteps come up behind her.

"How long have you been up?" he asked. Her gaze quickly traveled to a nearby clock, it was after six. The perfect time to see a beautiful sunrise if the stubborn clouds weren't in the way.

"A while. You?"

"Same. I was trying to be quiet, I didn't want to wake you." he told her honestly, though now it seemed that it was a pointless effort.

Not that he made much noise anyway, but he had been extra careful. Last night he checked in on her after she'd gone to bed. He ended up staying just outside the door watching her for a good part of the night. It was the reason he'd been so careful about the amount of sound he made. He'd seen her toss and turn throughout her sleep, he even saw her wake a few times. So he wanted to do his part to ensure that the small amount of time she was actually able to sleep were not disturbed.

"Any idea how much longer the storm'll stay over us?"

"No." he answered, upset that the her thoughts were still on returning. She was determined to go back and face this thing head on, as much as he hated it, he had to respect it. He snapped out of his thoughts when he saw her lacing up her shoes. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take a walk." she answered before walking across the room.

"Be caref-" the sound of the door closing cut him off. Quietly he finished his sentence to the now empty house. "Be careful."

"Damn it! What do you get paid for?" Scott yelled angrily at the officers before him who returned from their search empty handed. "You haven't found a single trace of either of them!"

"We're sorry, sir." Lucky spoke for himself and the others who were at the receiving end of Baldwin's anger.

"Sorry doesn't bring me a killer in handcuffs does it?" he yelled at the young man.

"No sir."

"I want pictures of Morgan and Courtney on every station. I want to put up wanted posters, billboards, I don't care if you put their faces on God damned milk cartons. I want ever soul on this planet to know what they look like. They are to be considered armed, dangerous, and desperate. I will not let this one get away. Now go!"

"Yes, sir."

Scott was seething. He knew that something like this was going to happen, if Courtney was granted bail. It was a while family of criminals and deviants and they continued to escape any consequences no matter what the crime. But this time he refused to allow any of the Corinthos clan to slip through his fingers. Not now, not when he was all but guaranteed a conviction.