Harley and the Mole

Part Two

He hated when Jason did that - asked his opinion about something that had to do with Elizabeth. Not that he didn't like his charge, because he honestly did. Unlike some of the women he had been employed to watch over in the past, Mrs. Morgan was not a pain in his ass. She wasn't demanding, she wasn't rude, and she wasn't purposefully uncooperative. It was quite refreshing to stand guard over someone who actually listened to him. Shit, she was even nice to him. If it was cold out, she brought him some coffee, fixed exactly how he liked it, or, if it was hot out, she brought him ice water or cool, refreshing lemonade. On his birthday, she baked him a cake and insisted that Jason give him the day off, and, at Christmas, there were always a few presents under the Morgan family Christmas tree reserved solely for him.

However, that did not mean that he was her confidant or that he understood women. He was a bachelor, dedicated to staying single for the rest of his life. He had escaped one busybody of a woman when he moved out of his mother's house at the age of nineteen, and he refused to ever risk living with another one. And he most certainly didn't understand girly issues. He knew that things came up once a month, and he also knew how to make himself scarce during those tense set of days, but, other than that, he was pretty much clueless. So, how the hell was he supposed to know what was up with Elizabeth?

He should have just said nothing, allowed her to confront Jason whenever she was ready to, but he was paid to be observant, and he was paid to report on anything that seemed amiss, even if that had to do with his charge herself. And, when he thought about it, all he could tell was that she was acting differently, more emotional, and that was saying something considering the fact that he found all women to be emotional. No one was as bad as his mother, and, compared to some other women he had known, Elizabeth was one of the more tolerable ones of her sex, but even she sometimes had the occasional freak out or crying jags. Luckily, when she was slightly off kilter, he simply called Jason, and his boss dealt with his wife himself, but, when the younger man was on a stakeout for twelve hours everyday, there left little time for him to see or even talk to Elizabeth.

Returning to the front porch where he stood sentinel every evening, Francis leaned back against a wooden railing and inhaled deeply. For another hour, he was assured that the perimeter was secure, and, for another hour, he could relax and let his mind wander away slightly from escape routes and vantage points.

It had taken him and most of the other guards for surprise when the news of Jake's paternity had been revealed to all of Port Charles. Other than a few select individuals in the organization, mainly Mr. Corinthos, Max, and Diane, everyone else had been in the dark about Jason's son, so, when he went from occasionally guarding Carly and the boys to being Elizabeth, Cameron, and Jake's full time security expert, determining who their guards would be, what precautionary measures would be put into place for the young family, and, in general, keeping them safe so Jason could focus on his own aspects of the job, it had been quite a shock to his otherwise stagnant system but a pleasant one nonetheless.

He had to admit, though, despite his initial disbelief at the turn of events, his younger boss seemed to be made for being someone's husband... well, not just anyone's husband but Elizabeth's, and for being a father. Elizabeth and Jason had a good marriage, and both boys adored the blonde enforcer. He was patient with them, kind and gentle, and, unlike the guard's older boss, he knew how to still love his children but parent them at the same time, giving them boundaries and teaching them manners, the rules of society, and importable, valuable life lessons. It was a refreshing difference and change of pace.

And Cam and Jake were both great in their own rights, too. The older boy was calm and reserved, a shocking combination of traits considering he was biologically Zander Smith's son, and the younger Morgan boy was anything but. Always rambunctious and with enough energy to bottle and supply a small country, Jake kept Jason, Elizabeth, Cameron, and all the guards on their toes. He and Harley were always up to no good, finding mischief where no on thought any mischief could be found. At three and a half, he had already been suspended from daycare, and there was a chair the teachers kept reserved there just for him. It wasn't that he was a mean spirited child or even a misbehaving one; he just sometimes got some pretty wild ideas. His father said he got it from his mother, and his mother liked to blame it on the same, always ubiquitous Quartermaine genes everything from not sleeping through the night as a baby to glaring as a toddler were blamed on. In fact, Elizabeth swore that Jake was giving her grey hair, and Jason had declared on more than one occasion that his youngest son was going to cause him to pull his own hair out one day. Francis still saw no evidence of either claim, but he kept that observation to himself.

All in all, he liked his job. It was certainly better than those the other senior guards occupied. Milo was stuck chaperoning Michael in high school, accompanying him to each and every single class the teenager was enrolled in, and Max got the unsavory task of protecting Sonny's flavors of the month. Needless to say, there were many flavors, and not very many of them either appreciated the guard's presence in their lives or respected them. Of the three of the senior guards, Francis had faired the best, so he would gladly put up with puzzling female issues rather than trade one of his friends for spit wads and lunch ladies flirting with him or shopping bag holding duties. Yes, he would most definitely stay where he was, and he would enjoy the benefits of guarding Jason's family, making sure he rubbed all those said benefits in nice and good with his fellow coworkers.

"Hey Francis," Cameron Webber's soft voice broke through his revelry, making the tall, dark haired guard glance down at the little seven year old. He really had to stop doing that, sneaking up on him, or else Francis was going to have to start questioning his awareness levels.

"Squirt," he returned, ruffling the same chocolate brown curls the kid shared with his mother.

"Mom wanted me to come out and ask you if you wanted any dinner."

"What'd she make tonight?"

Immediately Cameron's small face wrinkled, showing his displeasure with the meal he was about to eat. "Pot roast and a bunch of vegetables, but she made brownies for dessert."

"Aw," the bodyguard's eyes lit up as he teased the child, "your favorite."

"I know," his young charge agreed most readily. "Do you wanna make a deal?"

"Well, I'd at least listen to what you had to offer," he mused, playing along and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What is it exactly that you're putting out on the table?"

"How about you come in and eat dinner with us, I'll sneak you all my carrots, and then, as a trade, I'll get Mom to give you two brownies instead of just one."

"That's a mighty tempting offer, Cam, but you know that I can't leave my post."

"I know," the little boy, sighed, scuffing his shoe against the wooden flanks of the porch. "It sucks."

"Hey, now, you know your parents don't like you using that word."

"Sorry Francis," the seven year old mumbled his apology. Afterwards, they both fell silent for several moments until, "hey Francis?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Do you... uh... do you have a girlfriend?"

"No," the bodyguard was quick to reassure the little tyke. "Absolutely not."

"Good," Cam grinned. "Girls have cooties."

"An astute observation, my friend," Francis agreed with him. "But, if you don't mind me asking, why did you want to know."

"Well," the small child revealed, "you know that Valentine's Day is coming up, right?"

"I've heard it was rolling around again."

"Well, you're supposed to get the girl you love something special, a present, and I was kind of hoping that you had a girlfriend so that you could help me figure out what to get the girl I love," Cameron confessed.

"Squirt, do you have a girlfriend?"

"Ew, Francis, no," the little boy protested, giggling. "I wanted to get something for Mommy."

"Oh, I see." And he did. At first, the security expert had been slightly lost. This was one of those conversations he really wished Jason was home to have with his son, but, since he wasn't, he would do what he thought his boss would want him to do in the situation. "I think Jason will probably take care of getting your Mom a present."

"Well, yeah," Cam agreed, "because he loves her, too, but what am I supposed to do?"

"Why don't you take care of the card. You know that Jason always forgets that part, and, even if he didn't, you know that you're better with drawing, and pictures, and stuff like that. So, you make the card, have your little brother help you," the dark haired man instructed, "and Jason will handle buying the gift."

"Okay, thanks, Francis."

Clapping the seven year old on the back, the bodyguard grinned at him. "No, problem, kid. Now, you better get inside and eat your dinner - even the carrots - so we don't get in trouble with your Mom."

"Good idea." With that, the child turned back around and went inside, but, just as he was about to slam the front door shut, he yelled, "night," as was his custom. Never an evening passed without the second grader telling him goodnight in some capacity, and, even for an old self-proclaimed bachelor like himself, it felt good to know that the little boy he looked out for cared for him as well in return. As soon as his boss' oldest son disappeared, the quiet returned... or so he thought.

"Hey Francis?"

"Yes, Cameron," the guard responded, turning around to face the ever-curious little boy. He found him with the deep blue door pulled open just wide enough for his little head to fit through.

"Have you noticed Mom acting funny lately?"

At least he wasn't the only one. Instead of saying that, though, he asked, "what do you mean?"

"I don't know," the seven year old shrugged, rubbing the side of his cheek as he thought. Francis couldn't help but notice that it was a trait the child had picked up from his step-father. "I guess she's just been even more like a girl lately."

He couldn't help; he laughed, and he laughed long and hard. It was just something that he could have seen himself at least thinking if not saying as a child about his own mother, and it made the forty-something year old man wonder if he was passing along a few of his own trait to the boys he helped watch over. If so, he just hoped they were his better ones, ones that wouldn't get him in trouble with his very protective boss. And, just like that, realization dawned. He remembered how much Jason had always tried to shield Elizabeth from not only his business but also from the general horrors of life. Although he never knew the details of why, he and all the other guards knew that something very painful had happened to the pretty brunette when she was just a young girl and that the very painful something just so happened to occur on Valentine's Day. It had to be the reason as to why Elizabeth was acting so strangely. She was simply recalling a period in her life she would, regrettably, never be able to forget.

"You know, Squirt, I think she's just kind of sad." Unsure of how to explain something he didn't fully understand himself, to Francis, it felt as if he was walking on a sheet of ice. One misstep, and he was going to fall and end up down for the count. Not only did he feel the need to protect the little guy from the lingering anguish of his mother's haunting past, but he also didn't want to overstep his boundaries as just the bodyguard. "It's nothing you, your brother, or even Jason did. Sometimes women just get sad."

"Like how sometimes Sonny gets mad?"

"Yeah, but not as often," the dark haired man clarified, quite happy that he managed to avoid that ticking time bomb, at least for the foreseeable future. "Now, get inside, kid," he playfully ordered, motioning with his hands. "You're letting all the cold air in."

Returning the teasing, the seven year old intelligently responded, "or giving you some of the warm air."

"Eh, I'm tough. I don't need it."

Giggling, the little boy shut the door again, but, as he closed it, the guard could hear his response. "Whatever you say, Francis. See you tomorrow!"

And he would, because Francis was always there. Every afternoon, he picked Cameron up from school, and the two of them then drove to the hospital where they met and escorted both Elizabeth and Jake home. It was routine, and he had a feeling he wasn't the only one who liked the steadiness it brought to all their lives. It was just another thing he and the kid happened to have in common.