Chapter 1
Robert Scorpio looked around the Port Charles airport and sighed. Not that he was terribly surprised that no one had come to see him off, but he had still hoped that maybe at least Luke would make an appearance. He knew it was too much to ask that Robin come to say goodbye. Robert glanced over at the small store, which had a display of books and magazines to keep travellers occupied. "I should write one of those self-help books. It'd be a best-seller in Port Charles: Lazarus: Planning an Effective Return," he mused.
Robert sat down on one of the airport's uncomfortable seats to wait for his flight to New York and rubbed his eyes. The past couple of weeks had been incredibly difficult and the whole thing felt like a blur. The stress of holding in all his emotions had finally gotten to him and his upper back and shoulders felt like someone had taken a giant wrench to them. He really didn't expect his return from the dead to be easy, but he sure didn't expect it to go quite so badly. Between Robin declaring her hatred of him, Mac punching him, and his old friends just staring at him, he most sincerely wished he could have just stayed out of Port Charles.
The worst part was that he didn't feel like he had explained himself very well. He didn't have the time to explain anything fully, and it felt like everything he did say came out wrong. Robin had looked like someone kicked her in the stomach during their initial conversation. He supposed that made sense, given that he had just thrown at her that he had spent eleven years killing people. He didn't really know a better way of telling her, either, though he would have preferred some more time to prepare his thoughts. It made no sense to him to preserve any vision she might have of him as a hero, but now his beloved daughter detested him. He thought back to their last conversation, when he was trying to figure out if she wanted him to stay in Port Charles:
"I've gotten along fine without you all these years, and, um, I don't really need you anymore," declared Robin.
Robert replied, "Then that's the answer. If you change your mind, just call me. I'll stay in touch."
Since his "death" in 1992, Robert had become a very different type of person. He didn't put much stock in emotion anymore. He spent that first year angry and bitter, mostly at Anna for getting him into that horrible situation, but also at Faison who set everything in motion. Then he turned his anger inwards, hating himself for the type of work he was being forced to do. After some time of that, he realized that it was far easier simply to not feel at all. He kept himself as detached as possible from everyone and everything; there were no highs, but there were also no lows, and for that he was thankful. Hanging out with Luke was the the most he'd allowed himself to feel in a very long time.
"This is a final boarding call for Shuttle 803 to New York City. All passengers should present themselves to the agent at Gate 5 with your ticket and identification," blared the loudspeaker.
Robert shook himself from his thoughts and walked over to the ticket agent.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Scorpio. I see your luggage is checked through to the Markham Islands. Please have a nice trip."
"Thanks."
The flight to New York took a half hour. He checked his ticket and saw that he had a layover of a couple hours. Robert looked around and saw an airport pub. He decided to go have dinner in one of the airport bars. As Robert ate his cheeseburger, an item on the news caught his attention: "Unrest is swelling in the Markham Islands, off the coast of Argentina. Residents are upset at their treatment by the authorities during a recent outbreak of encephalitis," droned the news network announcer. Robert thought back to his last mission to the Markham Islands, which had completely unexpectedly lead him to Port Charles. One of the most difficult aspects of virus containment, was just that, containing the virus meant eradicating any trace of it. Therefore, on his say-so, a whole village had to be burned and razed. He tried to continue eating his dinner, but found that his appetite was gone.
Robert boarded his next flight, that would take him to the Markham Islands. He settled in for the extended flight, cramming his long legs under the seatback in front of him.
In the past, one of Robert's talents as an agent had been his ability to focus on whatever investigation or mission he had in front of him. And due to his years of working as an assasin, he had become even better at detaching himself from the effects of his actions. But now he was seeing the consequences of them, and would soon face them first hand, upon his return to the Islands. It wasn't so much that things could be handled differently, due to the highly contagious nature of these types of viruses; however, Robert rarely gave a second thought to the fallout of his missions. But now he couldn't get the Markham Islands out of his mind. He cursed himself for letting his guard down, but the whole situation was so frustrating.
Once Robert was freed of his obligation to the WSB, he had sought to atone for the damage he had done to the world. As he put it to Robin, "I joined the agency to help other kids, since I couldn't help my own." How ironic that it looked as though his recent actions had probably wrought even more devastation. He thought again to the words of his MRA colleague as they finished the containment procedure, "We finished the sweep of the village. No one will ever know we were here."
"This kind of thinking will get you nowhere, Robbie," he thought to himself.
Nor would thinking about Holly. Robert had been trying very hard for the last few days to put his former love's involvement in this whole mess out of his mind. Truth be told, Robert had been spending a good deal of the past 15 years, with one notable exception, trying very hard not to think about Holly at all. However, the sight of her in person made the task infinitely harder. He thought back to when she reappeared in 1992 and told him that she hadn't wanted to see him because she didn't want him to be upset with her. He had thought her statement crazy at the time: there was nothing that could outweigh his sheer joy in knowing she was still a part of the living world? Somehow her point of view made more sense to him now.
Holly, Holly, Holly. Suddenly, Robert couldn't do anything but think about her. Little snippets of memory rushed back at him all at once, memories of her laughter, of their kisses, of making love...
Holly leaned over to kiss Robert.
"What was that for?"
"Because you are absolutely crazy. And I am absolutely, madly in love with you."
"Come here you."
Memories came crashing back, too fast to catalogue. It was as if the proverbial dam had broken.
"Can you believe it's been a whole year?"
"365 days of pure unadulterated bliss. Not to mention the nights."
"I love you."
"I love you."
Robert swallowed a small sob, making a strangled gulping noise that caused his seatmate to look over at him with alarm. He gave a little wave to indicate he was OK and sat back in his seat. A song lyric popped into his head, "There is fiction in the space between; the lines on your page of memories." Robert told himself for the millionth time that he was kidding himself about these memories, there was no way anyone could have been that happy.
But the more that Robert thought about the past, the weirder the virus situation seemed to him. Holly's involvement, her whole behavior, was out of character in so many ways. He never would have thought that she could put the lives of others at risk to turn a profit. Holly could spend money like there was no tomorrow, but he never would have described her as greedy. Robert recalled a conversation that he had with Anna, after he thought that Holly had died in that plane crash,
"As your first wife and present partner--though it pains me to tell you this--when it concerns money--you are a total and utter complete failure."
"They were Holly's words exactly!" Robert laughed.
"Well, I mean, that's what most couples argue about."
"No, no, no - not us. Never. Matter of fact, she thought it was quite funny. I can remember this, this particular time. It was getting close to the end of the month. We didn't have a bean between us. So we did the only practical thing possible. We got all the bills, heaped them together and we set fire to them. Then we bought a bottle of champagne with our last ten bucks."
And it was so strange that she didn't even flinch at the news that Robin was in the hospital, close to death from the virus. Granted, Robin wasn't Holly's child, but Robert knew that they had a special bond.
Robert frowned again. The only explanation was that the last 15 years had been unimaginably difficult for Holly. He still found it unbelievable that she could have changed that much from the warm and loving woman that he remembered, but a lot could happen in that long a space of time. He closed his eyes and willed himself to think about anything but his former life for the rest of the flight.
Author's Notes:
Song lyrics from "Telling Stories" by Tracy Chapman.
Transcripts throughout the story are by my own hand, from the TVMegaSite, and from http/