Duke couldn't think of anything else that needed his attention. The wait staff had set the tables; the bar was stocked; the meal was being prepared; the band had already completed their sound check; members of the security staff had been given their stations and were just waiting for the guests to arrive. It was two hours before doors opened.

Giordano stopped by to check on the seating arrangements. Duke showed him to the table he'd reserved for him in the back corner. Giordano smiled and shook his head.

"No. Not at this table. I want to sit there instead." He pointed at the centre of the room, near the dance floor.

Duke's expression registered surprise. "Really? Wouldn't you prefer this more private table? From here you can see everything clearly but you're less exposed."

"I want to be exposed, Mr. Lavery." Giordano flashed his jackal-smile again. "Ms. Wu and I will be sitting there. We'll see you at 8:00." He looked around the room once more and then strode out. He seemed to have a bounce in his step.

Anna emerged from the bathroom to see Robert adjusting his cufflinks and testing the comfort of his sleeves, shrugging his shoulders forward, his arms held out, bent, in front of him. He looked up at her. She smiled. "You look exquisite in that tuxedo, Robert," she told him. And he did. He still cut an impressive figure. And now that his hair was grey, his eyes seemed a more brilliant shade of blue.

Robert smiled back, looked her over head to toe, and admired. Anna was dressed in a black tea-length cocktail dress with a subtly-sequined bodice. Its lines were simple and highlighted her slim, athletic figure. Never one for totteringly-high heels, she wore beautiful low black leather pumps that tapered into a thin toe. Her hair was straightened dramatically, and swept across and down her face. "Well?" she asked. "How do I look?"

"You look ravishing," he told her. "As beautiful as the day I met you."

"Liar," Anna laughed. She walked over to Robert, signaled for him to bend down. She gave him a soft, protracted kiss. He lifted a hand to brush her hair back very carefully from her face. "Although I'm pretty sure you're going to shoot me down and tell me we don't have time," he said, moving his head down to kiss her lightly on the neck, "I feel a sudden and urgent need to have my way with you, Ms. Divine. If I promise not to muss your hair, may I?"

Anna pushed him back, stroked his lapels. "What fun would it be if you didn't muss my hair, Scorpio? And it needn't take too much time. This dress looks tight but in fact it hikes up. I checked before I bought it."

Robert grinned and backed Anna up to the far wall. There he checked as well, and Anna was right. It did hike up very nicely indeed.

Forty-five minutes later Robert was helping Anna out of a taxi. She waited for him as he paid the driver, and when he joined her, they stood for a moment without moving. They spoke in hushed tones without looking at each other, both staring ahead at the main door of the club.

"I smell of sex, Robert. Do you think anyone will notice?"

"Now that we're back together, you always smell of sex to me, Anna. What do you care if anyone else notices?"

"I have a queer feeling about this." Anna's left hand reached for Robert's right. "And I'm strangely compelled at this moment to tell you how much I love you. I don't know why."

"Now you've got me worried. Here I was looking forward to a simple evening of dinner and dancing. My only comfort is that your woman's intuition has always been lousy."

"When I get a funny feeling, it's woman's intuition. When you get a funny feeling, it's finely-honed investigative instincts. Funny, that."

"Point taken. Just in case you're picking up on something real, I think we should agree not to leave the other's side, if possible."

"How about the other's sight?"

"More practical, I grant you, but less defensive."

"What happens if you and/or I need to use the washroom?"

Robert unclasped her hand and put his arm through her arm. They started for the door.

"Don't get cute, partner. Once more into the breach."

When they stepped through, they found themselves face to face with Duke. His face hardened when he saw them. "Anna," he said, and then with distaste, "Robert. I didn't know you'd be joining us this evening."

Anna took the tickets from her handbag. "The tickets were a gift, Duke. I didn't buy them. I wasn't sure we should come. But it's no secret that I'm very curious about your work. It seemed a perfect chance to find out more about what you're doing for your new employer."

Duke's expression didn't change. "What do you think of the club, Robert? Does it meet with your high standards?"

Robert made a show of looking around. The club was rather lavishly decorated and didn't agree at all with his cleaner, simpler aesthetic. "Yeah, it's alright," he offered. "The decor is maybe a bit late-1980s. I wouldn't necessarily complain about that—it was a good time for me personally." In a possessive gesture, he put an arm around Anna. " But I've been told one shouldn't live in the past."

"Maybe you could show us to our seats, Duke?" Anna suggested. Duke grimaced, motioned for them to follow him, and led them to a table near the back. Robert, flashing Duke a strangely challenging smile, held Anna's chair out for her. As Anna was sitting down, Duke told them "Your waiter will be with you shortly." He turned and left.

"You could have been a bit kinder, or even just personable," Anna grumbled. "There was no need to act so arrogantly. You're a poor winner, Robert Scorpio; you always have been."

"And you don't need," Robert informed her, "to be so damned forgiving and accommodating. Don't forget that guy tried to play you for a fool recently, Anna. And not for the first time."

"Well," she observed, "at least that unpleasantness is over. Now we can focus on other unpleasantness. Such as who else is here. Whom do you recognize?"

"Who do I recognize?" Robert asked. "Remember, I was in a coma for a year. Who do you recognize?"

Anna squinted. "It's a bit dark. There are a few modestly-important business owners here. If I'm not mistaken, the woman at four o'clock is a city councillor. I think she's sitting with a gentleman who works at WLPC. That man at twelve o'clock—the one with the blonde in the inappropriately low-cut and high-slit dress—works with Baldwin in the District Attorney's office. I find him incredibly annoying. I don't know, Robert—excepting the dress, this seems a surprisingly staid bunch."

"Do you see Giordano or our mystery head of the triad?"

Anna shook her head. "Not yet. Maybe my finely-honed investigative senses were misfiring earlier. "

Their waiter arrived with the champagne. He opened the bottle and served them. Once he'd left, Robert raised his glass.

"A toast then?" he asked. Anna smiled and raised her glass as well. "To a pleasant evening not necessitating but encouraging declarations of love. And maybe, just maybe, to an early evening?" He dropped his voice. "I'm already imagining the kinds of things I'll do to you when we get back home."

Anna's smile had frozen.

Robert stopped his sexy-talk. "What? Did I say something concerning? "

Anna gestured as subtly as she could with her eyes, eyebrows, and the smallest movement of her head for Robert to follow her gaze. He shifted his head slightly and saw Duke escorting Gino Giordano and his female companion to their table. Giordano had his hand lightly pressed to the low back of a graceful Asian woman in a striking full-length white gown. Giordano held out her chair, casting an eye around the dimly-lit club as he did so. It was probably not possible, Anna thought to herself, given the darkness of their corner and the distance, but she imagined Giordano's gaze lingered momentarily when he looked in her direction and his smile broadened slightly. Then he sat down.

Anna fixed her eyes again more directly on Robert. "Our investors, down-centre-stage. I'll eat my hat if that woman isn't the gang leader we've been trying to identify."

"You're not wearing a hat."

"I need her name, Robert. Do you have any idea how I can get it?"

"By looking at Duke's guest list? His seating arrangement? There must be something up there at the door."

Anna rolled her eyes. "It couldn't be that easy. He'd hardly have written down 'Mob Boss Gino Giordano and Triad Gang-leader Amy Chu' on a seating chart."

Robert smiled. "Let's see, shall we?" He took a swig from his glass, stood, and strode off.

Anna tried to grab his hand before he left but she was too late. Five minutes later he arrived back at the table wearing a self-satisfied grin.

Anna was leaned down, one hand shielding her face, her elbow on the table. "Well? Don't tell me you found out something."

"I flashed my winning smile and told the head waitress my wife and I were absolutely mortified—we'd seen a couple across the way whose names we couldn't for the life of us remember but who go about in the same social circles. We were petrified they'd come to our table; we'd have to admit that we'd forgotten their names. So embarrassing. So she gave me a quick peek at the seating plan. Easy peasy."

Anna was incredulous. "And?"

Robert's smile disappeared. "Potentially disturbing news, I'm afraid. The man is Giordano—but then you already knew that. The woman's name is apparently Wu. It could be a coincidence, I suppose. It's a common enough name. Or it might not be. I think it would be prudent to be careful around her."

Anna considered this new piece of information and drained her glass.

Despite the surprising and disquieting revelation of Ms. Wu's name, the first part of the evening unfolded relatively unremarkably. Their meal was served at 9:00; dancing commenced at 10:30. They watched the first few dances from their table; then Robert suggested the world wouldn't crumble if they left their vantage point and took a turn around the floor, and so they did. The third time they danced, Robert felt a light tap on his shoulder. He stopped, turned around, and saw Gino Giordano smiling back at him.

"Mr. Scorpio," Giordano nodded, "I know you by reputation. As I know your lovely partner." He turned his gaze to Anna. "Commissioner Devane. Do you mind if I cut in? I've been wanting to make your acquaintance since I first arrived in Port Charles." He took Anna's hand and kissed it. "Enchanté."

"I'm not sure . . ." Robert began.

"Of course I'll dance with you, Mr. Giordano. You see, I know you by reputation as well."

Giordano bowed, moving his hand to his chest, acknowledging her recognition as an honour.

Anna shot Robert a look. "Go back to the table, Robert. I'll be with you shortly. It's fine."

Robert made his unhappiness obvious. She squeezed his hand. "Trust me. I'll be back at the table momentarily." Robert reluctantly turned and left.

With one hand, Giordano took Anna's and moved his other to the small of her back. They began to dance a foxtrot. "Mr. Scorpio seems very protective of you, Commissioner Devane," Giordano observed. "I suspect you can take care of yourself. Does his chivalry sometimes grow tiring?"

Anna arched her eyebrows. "We're protective of each other, Mr. Giordano, and of the people we love."

Giordano laughed. "Fine, fine. I assume that group includes Mr. Lavery—your other ex-husband, I understand—and your daughter and granddaughter."

Anna's grip on Giordano's hand and shoulder tightened. "I hope you're not making a veiled threat against my family. You should know that I don't take kindly to intimidation."

Giordano shook his head. "Not at all, Ms. Devane. I pose no threat to you or to your family. You have nothing to worry about from me personally. I give you my word."

Anna wondered what that word was worth but said nothing in reply.

Robert was back at the table attempting to watch them closely. Anna was masking her feelings well, but even from a distance he could pick up on her tension, on the faint "tells" of her stress. He sat with level gaze, ready to leap to her defence. But then a body suddenly blocked his view of the dance floor. He found himself staring at an ample chest artistically displayed in the bodice of an expensive-looking black gown. He looked up.

"Hello, Robert." It was Elizabeth. "Fancy seeing you here. Do you mind if I join you?"

Robert tried to look around her. "Actually, I'm here with someone, and she'll be back at the table shortly."

"I know who you're here with," Elizabeth smiled, arranging her dress carefully as she sat down. She bit her lip provocatively. "I know quite a lot about your date, in fact. She's your ex-wife, Anna Devane-Scorpio-Lavery. She's a fascinating woman. And the two of you have such a fascinating history together. And apart."

Anna and Giordano circled out past Elizabeth's shoulder before they disappeared again, behind her and into the crowd on the dance floor. Robert shifted his attention from them to the woman commanding his view. "What's your game, Ms. Beaty? Why are you really in town? Not for business. Not to meet with a client. Not according to your friend Stephen."

Elizabeth smiled. "You've caught me, Agent Scorpio. I'm in town for pleasure. For nothing but pure pleasure. Next question?"

Robert's eyes grew cold. "Why did you have your husband killed?"

Elizabeth broke into a wide, delighted grin and laughed with surprise. "Huzzah, Mr. Scorpio! I knew there was a chance you would find me out. I've done my research, you see, and I discovered your history with the WSB. Congratulations. You're probably one of only two or three people in the world who could have discovered what happened to my husband. More remarkably, you're likely the only person in the world who would care. This makes you very, very special."

Giordano was a skilled dancer. He led Anna effortlessly around the dance floor, and as he did, he asked her if she'd ever visited his home town of Montreal. She told him that she hadn't travelled there in a very long time but she still knew quite a lot about the city. In fact, she'd recently learned a great deal more from new acquaintances who were informing her about its organized crime.

Giordano smiled. "Ah. The Montreal police force. Trust me, Madame: You don't want to make friends with them. They have absolutely no imagination. The romance of the city is lost on them. Montreal is a city of old-world charm, old-world values, and old-world systems of governance."

"I prefer new-world systems of governance, Mr. Giordano. And I uphold them."

Giordano shrugged. "You don't prefer but are a new-world system of governance, Ms. Devane. And that is why you and your family have nothing to fear from me."

Anna forced a smile. "I have no idea what you mean by that statement, Mr. Giordano."

Giordano twirled her around quickly and changed direction. "Ms. Devane, I regard you less as a person than as the context and structure in which I operate. You are part of the state apparatus, a cog in a machine, a widget in a system that operates according to the laws of, and produces something called, 'justice.' I am not a part of that machine, not a part of that system, but neither do I throw wrenches into its works. No, I operate in the spaces between the cogs and widgets without destroying the system. You can go on happily functioning while I do my business. In fact, I prefer that you exist and structure my environment: it adds to the challenge of being me, of doing what I do. Without law and order, without rules and regulations, it would be incredibly easy to take the actions that I do! Without the law of gravity, feats of strength would be unimpressive. With gravity to work against, the strong man seems a marvel. You are the law of gravity. You have nothing to fear from me; I'm not a threat to you because I absolutely require that you challenge me, restrict my actions, make me better, make what I do wonderful. Do you understand?"

Anna stopped herself moving and her expression became unreadable. Giordano held her hand tightly, drew her in closer, stared into her eyes. "Don't you find me and the challenge I offer you the least bit exciting, Ms. Devane?" he asked breathily.

Then his expression shifted, lost its intensity, changed from excitement to contented pleasure. "By the way, do you have the time?" He smiled and looked in the direction of her wristwatch. "I see that you do. Would you mind telling me what it is? I'm afraid I forgot my watch at home."

He released her hand. She checked. "It's five minutes after eleven o'clock, Mr. Giordano," she told him.

He smiled. "Shall I see you back to your table, Ms. Devane?"

Anna stepped back from him, turned, and walked away.

"Do you know what I wrote my MA thesis on, Robert?"

Elizabeth had settled back into her chair, assuming a slight slump. Her arms were crossed at her chest. Robert didn't respond.

"Nineteenth-century American melodramas. Sadly neglected texts, and the origin of popular contemporary forms like the soap opera—a guilty pleasure of mine, I must confess; I've been watching All My Problems since I was a teenager. Anyway, everyone thinks melodramas were ridiculously naive and contemptible, but they weren't, and aren't. They're sophisticated little fairy tales a culture told itself to soothe fears inspired by the chaos and anarchy of the French Revolution, when neighbours sold out neighbours and sweet little old ladies sat knitting while severed heads rolled. Melodrama was and is a kind of collective cultural fantasy expressive of a wish for simple, clear morality and for the ability to distinguish good from evil and heroes from villains.

"Anyway, do you want to know why I found melodramas so engrossing and exciting?" Elizabeth smiled as Robert sat, impassive. "I can tell that you do. Two reasons. First, I loved the plot lines. In every melodrama you have a central secret, or maybe even multiple secrets. These secrets are gradually revealed through a combination of cause-effect chains of events and completely random occurrences and coincidences that lead characters to profound discoveries. For example," Elizabeth here grew serious, "a former WSB assassin helps his ex-wife investigate a missing person and discovers that the disappearance of a man peripheral to the case was, in fact, a murder. And he is the only person privy to the information necessary to solve that murder. You and I, Robert, are living and playing out a melodramatic plot."

Elizabeth paused to allow and to encourage Robert to say something, but he said nothing.

"The second reason I love melodramas is that they are obsessed with defining what constitutes evil and what constitutes good. They ask and answer how actions can be understood and evaluated as right or wrong. That fascinates me."

She continued: "In every melodrama you have a hero or heroine who is perfectly admirable: virtuous, righteous, with a finely-tuned moral compass. And in every melodrama you have his or her polar opposite, a villain who is perfectly awful, whose every action defines moral wrong. I'm sure you're familiar with the iconic melodramatic image of a damsel in distress tied to a railway track by a moustache-twirling scoundrel; she's rescued just in time by the dashing hero." Elizabeth leaned forward. "Indulge me for a moment: did you know that in the paradigmatic moment of this famous incident, in the play Under the Gaslight by Augustin Daly, it is in fact a man who's tied to the track, and he's rescued by a woman? Isn't it funny how the roles have been reversed over time to conform to our broader cultural expectations of gender?

"Anyway, melodramas comforted nineteenth-century audiences with the ridiculous idea that morality can be easily and clearly defined. And you know, for reasons I won't get into, in my life I've wanted the same kind of certainty. But I've learned that morality is complicated. Heroes do villainous things. Heroines have failings. Villains might have had difficult childhoods. It's all very confusing." Elizabeth smiled.

Robert didn't react, didn't move. He had a bad feeling he was about to be presented with something profoundly upsetting. He asked, "You want to get to the point, Elizabeth? Are you trying to justify your own villainy? Is that what this is about?"

Elizabeth's expression grew serious. "Actually, this is a long-winded and extremely enjoyable way of me informing you that you can't do a damn thing about what you call my 'villainy.' You tell on me, I tell on you; it's as simple as that. This is what they call a stalemate. "

Robert stared at her. Elizabeth leaned over across the table and looked up at him through her lashes. She slightly furrowed her brow. "I've learned so much about you over the last few weeks. I don't mind confessing that I find you as fascinating as my melodramas. You're a hero character, Robert. But morality in the real world isn't as simple as it is in a play, now is it? I've read your file. Not the bogus file, the one Anna Devane could request and read, the one accessible through official channels. I'm talking about the real file, though I suspect certain information even there has been omitted. One thing in particular intrigues me. I'm going to ask, though I don't really expect an answer. Why didn't you take the deal they presented to you, Robert? When you recovered from the explosion and the WSB offered to let you collect your brain-damaged wife, take her off their hands and care for her, why did you say no? Why did you abandon her and leave her in their questionable care? That bit of information isn't in your file. And why did you abandon your child? Whence this blot on your proverbial white Stetson?"

Robert said nothing. He knew he shouldn't react, shouldn't give Elizabeth the satisfaction, but he couldn't control his own body. Before he could stop himself he was standing and walking away, heading toward the dance floor. He had to find Anna.

In a daze, Robert wound his way around tables and around elegantly-dressed individuals collected together in comfortable, animated, flirtatious, even impassioned conversational groups. He tried to look around them, tried to catch a glimpse of Anna on the dance floor, and when he couldn't, impatiently pushed past them. As he got closer, he realized she wasn't there. He couldn't see her, couldn't find her. She was gone. Where had she gone? Robert turned quickly, looked for Giordano. He was seated again at his table, had leaned back into his chair, was smiling smugly, gazing at the Asian woman Robert now knew was Ms. Wu. She stared back without amusement, even without expression. Giordano laughed, then turned toward Robert, and smiled. Wu, apparently completely disinterested, followed Giordano's cue and turned to look at him as well. Where the hell was Anna? How had Robert allowed himself to get distracted? How had he lost her? How could he have been so careless? Robert started to panic.

And then he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. "Robert." It was her. "We have to go." He spun around to face her, his expression white with fear. Anna started. "What's wrong?" she asked. When he didn't reply, she took a step toward him, concerned.

"Where were you?" he almost gasped. Anna took his hand.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you, Robert. As I was walking back to the table, my cell phone rang. I stepped into the back hallway to get away from the noise. We have to go. All hell is breaking loose outside. There are reports of multiple shootings across the city; we don't know the extent of it all yet. The station is sending a car. Come on—we have to leave now."

She led him toward the door.