"Peggy."
Peggy opened her eyes and looked into the worried face of Art Malcolm. "Art, what's wrong?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," the lieutenant smiled warmly at the tired woman. "That must've been some dream."
"It was," Peggy said, remembering the fear she felt at thinking she'd lost Joe Mannix for good. She reached across the bed and gently touched the bruised cheek. "I thought I...we'd lost him again."
"Why don't you go to the hotel and get some rest?"
"I will, Art," she said as she picked up her sweater and pulled it on. She was tired but she hadn't been able to leave the injured man alone for fear of him disappearing again. "Were you able to come up with anything new?"
Malcolm shook his head as he walked her to the door. "Frank has a couple of leads he's looking into. He had a call from one of his snitches and he'll be meeting with him this evening."
"Don't leave him alone, Art."
"I won't Peggy," Malcolm assured her. He watched her walk to the elevators before turning back to the bed. "Well, Joe, looks like it's me and you for a little while anyway. Your dad said he'll be back tonight," he said as he sat down to wait for his friend to wake up.
MANNIX-MANNIX-MANNIX
'You'll never amount to anything, Joseph,' she slapped his face in anger and frustration. Her eyes were filled with such hatred and he knew it was all pointed at him. He tried again to bring her face into focus but the effort was too much and he tried to turn away from her. Another slap to the face and he felt blood trickle from the corner of his mouth. 'I could have made something of you, Joseph,' the voice repeated and he didn't know if the headache was real or part of the nightmare.
'T...told you. N...not Joseph. My name is Joe,' he gasped as she scraped a long fingernail down his chin, drawing a thin stream of crimson fluid as she went.
'I will kill you, but not yet, Joseph, you must be taught a lesson first,' she laughed as she turned him over to her man and the beating began once more. He glared angrily at them but was unable to move from the chair.
MANNIX-MANNIX-MANNIX
Joe opened his eyes and remembered the pain of that first beating. He remembered the needles sliding into his shoulder each time he was on the verge of passing out. He remembered screaming at them to leave him alone when they landed blow upon blow to his already beaten frame. The one constant during the time he was in their hands was the woman whose face he couldn't see. 'I have to remember who you are,' he thought as he let his eyes slide shut.
MANNIX-MANNIX-MANNIX
"You idiots! Do you realize what you've cost me?" she chastised the two men standing before her.
"We thought he was unconscious. He was tied to the chair. He shouldn't have been able to get away not after that last beating."
"You fool Charlie. This is Joseph Mannix we're talking about. He cost me everything and you've let him get away. Damn you I spent the last five years in that hellish prison because of Joseph and I'm not done making him pay. I want him back where he belongs."
"Yes Ma'am, but right now he's under police guard."
"Then we wait until the heat dies down. I'm tired of New Orleans anyway. We will go back home." A grin spread across her face as she looked at her two bodyguards. "We'll wait until he's feeling safe again. Let him think it was just a random kidnapping by an old enemy and then we take him again. This time my revenge will be complete and Joseph will pay for his betrayal of my trust. Now get out of here," she ordered and smiled at the quick response from the two men. "It's not over by a long shot, Joseph."
MANNIX-MANNIX-MANNIX
Joe opened his eyes to a darkened room, but knew he wasn't alone because of the soft breathing he could hear. He turned his head slightly, surprised that the movement didn't set off the usual fireworks. It still took him a minute to adjust to the lighting but he easily recognized the man sitting next to his bed. He didn't want to wake his father so he turned his head and looked out the window.
'Who are you?' he thought as the image of the dark haired woman invaded his thoughts, and her thick accent when she called him young man or when she referred to him as Joseph. He tried to grasp more of the illusive memory but felt the headache returning. He closed his eyes and tried to suppress the nauseating feeling in his stomach. He tried to turn over, but his stomach churned. He felt someone place a basin before him just in time as he was violently ill.
"See, Joseph, this is what you get for helping people," Stefan snapped as he placed the basin back on the table.
"Pa, we've been through all this," Mannix groaned as his father placed a straw in front of him. He drank gratefully and looked into the concerned face of the older man.
"No, Joseph, you've been through all this. You never listen to what I have to say. You don't know what I go through each time your secretary calls to tell me you've been hurt again. You keep putting the life the good Lord gave you in danger and for what! A few dollars here and there from clients who don't give a damn about you!"
"Pa," Joe groaned as his father's rising voice reverberated through his skull. "I don't do it for the money. I do it because it's something I believe in. Most of my clients are good people who need a little help."
"Is that so, Joseph? Just look at you. So hurt, so beat up and yet you still want to play detective."
"I'm not playing detective, Pa, it's what I do for a living and I enjoy it. Look, we've had this argument before and neither one of us is willing to change our minds. I like what I do, Pa, and I'm good at it," Joe groaned as his own raised voice made his head throb unmercifully.
"You are still as stubborn as ever. It is no use talking to you and I am tired of arguing. Now that the doctors say you will recover I must get back to the grapes," Stefan said as he stood up to leave.
"I'm sorry, Pa, I wish things could be different," Joe mumbled as he tried to ease the tension between them.
"I do too, Joseph. You come home when you feel like it," Stefan told his son as he left the room. "It is your home and you will always be welcome there."
"Thanks, Pa,' he said as he closed his eyes.
Joe had no idea how long he slept but he awoke feeling worse than before sleep had taken him away. The headache was now just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but the rest of his body had decided it was time to protest the rough treatment. He took shallow breaths in order to alleviate the throbbing ribs. The pain on the right side of his body was so intense he gasped without realizing it.
"Easy, Joe, Art's gone to get the nurse."
"P...Peggy?"
"Yes, Joe, it's me. How bad is it?"
"It's okay," Mannix lied as he tried to shift on the bed,
"You're not fooling me, Joe," Peggy told him as she gently touched his left shoulder.
"Never could, Peg," he whispered, smiling weakly.
"The nurse is here, Joe," Peggy said, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"Mr. Mannix, would you like something to ease the pain?" the nurse asked.
Joe Mannix swallowed his pride and nodded slowly, he hated taking anything, but his body was telling him he needed to do something about the misery.
"I'll be right back," the nurse said as she left Mannix to his two friends. She returned a minute later and uncapped a syringe placing it in the IV juncture and injecting the morphine. "That should kick in pretty fast, Mr. Mannix," she said as she turned toward Malcolm and Peggy. "That shot will probably make him sleep…he needs it so please let him get as much sleep as he can."
"We will," Peggy assured her as she reached out and took Joe's left hand in her own. She looked across the bed as Art Malcolm took up residence there. By unspoken agreement they'd decided to protect Joe Mannix from anyone who wanted to hurt him.
"Pa's going back home," Joe muttered, surprising both his friends.
"I know, Joe, he told us on the way out. He said to tell you he hopes you'll change your mind," Malcolm explained.
"Hmm," Mannix yawned as he started to drift toward sleep. "He just wants what he thinks is best for me…doesn't understand my need to help people."
"Go to sleep, Joe," Peggy told him and pulled the chair closer to the bed.
"Think I will," Joe smiled at her and finally let his eyes slide closed. "You should too."
"Peggy, I'm going to grab a coffee and a sandwich. Would you like me to bring you something?"
"Just coffee, Art," she answered.
"Peggy, you won't do him or yourself any good if you don't eat."
"All right, Art, a bagel with cream cheese." She smiled at the moustached man as he left the room, and watched him speak to the police officer assigned to protect Joe Mannix. 'Oh, Joe, who did this to you?' she thought as she took in the still vivid bruises that now held a hint of yellow around the outer edges.
MANNIX-MANNIX-MANNIX
'Faster, Joe, if you want to live you have to run faster. Can't let them catch you!' he thought, struggling to get air into his burning lungs. He ran through the darkened streets, the pain from the repeated beatings made it feel as if he was running in slow motion. He had no idea how long he ran, but he knew to stop would bring about his death. She was out there and she wanted him dead, but she wanted him to suffer first. He heard her voice in his ear, whispering angrily as she shoved a needle into his arm.
'I could have made something of you, Joseph, like Salvatore. But now you'll have to pay for your betrayal!' Her dark eyes glared angrily at him as she knelt before him. "Poor, Joseph, so hurt, and still he fights it,' she laughed.
'A...Al,' he gasped as the name he associated with the face came to him.
She slapped his face and his head snapped back. "You will not use my name again, Joseph," she snarled as she turned him over to her men.
He'd escaped, he didn't know how but he'd gotten away from her and started running, always running, unable to stop for fear of being caught and placed back in her clutches. He knew he'd have to run for the rest of his life or he'd be dead as soon as he stopped.
'You can run, Joseph, but I will find you. You must pay for what you cost me.'