"Are your parents retarded? Is that why you don't have a mommy?" Chase McNamara teased, shooting a paper airplane into Lance's back to get his attention. The kid must have failed a few times, because he was the biggest boy in their entire school. Lance was terrified of him, so he made sure to always have a teacher with him whenever he was at school. What was he supposed to do now? The teachers were all off in a little room for lunch and he knew the cafeteria lady wouldn't care.
Lance spun around, one hand on his Buzz Lightyear lunchbox and the other holding an apple. He wasn't sure when he had taken the apple in his palm, but he was quickly losing circulation in this stiff position. "I have a mommy." He retorted lifting his chin a fraction of an inch.
"Really? How come she doesn't live with you? Did she take one look at your ugly face and run?" Chase mocked, shoving Lance's milk carton onto the ground so that it busted and splashed onto his white sneakers.
"You're just a big bully." Lance said in a quivering tone. "You got to be mean to everybody 'cause you don't got no friends." He was on his feet, but there was no telling how long that would last. He'd have to stand on the bench to be able to look directly into Chase's puke-green eyes.
"Big mouth for a little shrimp." Chase smiled, poking Lance in the chest.
"Don't push me." Lance warned. He was going to be in so much trouble if he got into a fight. Daddy Lucas would ground him and Daddy Dillon would take away his video games. "I didn't push you."
"Well maybe you should. Maybe you should stop crying like a baby and push me back." Chase suggested, forcing Lance into a group of other children.
"I'm not a baby!" Lance insisted, folding his arms over his chest.
"Then prove it, wimp." Chase baited. "Go ahead. I'll even let you take the first shot. Want me to bend down so you can reach me?" He offered, his grin a mile wide.
Shutting his eyes, Lance closed the space between them and brought his knee up until he heard a crunch and a yelp. Peeking through half closed eyelids, he watched Chase McNamara fall like a sack of potatoes, his eyes filling with tears.
"You little jerk." He reached for Lance's shoes, but they were still slippery from the milk and he couldn't get a good enough hold.
"Stop calling me names!" Lance demanded. "I didn't call you names. Stop being so mean!"
"You kicked me in the nuts and I'm mean?" Chase countered hysterically.
"You started it." Lance pointed out, struggling against the hand on his left shoulder. Twisting around, he noticed his teacher, Miss Appleby. "Miss Appleby, Miss Appleby, he started it!" Lance insisted, planting his feet when she tried to drag him to the office.
"I saw all I needed to see. You are in big trouble young man." Miss Appleby informed him, pushing a lock of curly black hair behind her right ear.
"I'll catch you after school faggot." Chase said in a chuckling whisper so that only Lance heard him.
Pushing his way in through the double doors, Ric entered The Outback. The restaurant was a favorite of his. Far enough from the hospital that he was unlikely to run into any former dates when he was with a new lady yet close enough to his condo that he could justify stopping by frequently after work when he did not feel like cooking. This was often.
The warm oak and brass fixtures gleamed with the careful polish of a wait staff that was trained to pay attention to details. The brown walls were covered with local high school memorabilia and instruments. Ric knew the restaurant had been owned by local families for years, which kept its menu and flavor focused on local favorites. It was the only place that name checked Kelly's when describing its chili.
He made his way to the bar, deciding to wait for his order with a drink. The day had been long and an ice cold beer was just what the doctor ordered, Ric laughed to himself. He raised his hand to motion for the bartender when a flash of blonde hair caught his eye.
Like a moth to the flame, he made his way toward the sight. The memory of her had teased him ever since she had stormed out of the banquet hall. Maxie Jones was probably many things, but forgettable was not one of them. "Maxie Jones, we meet again." He drawled.
She took her time turning to face him, making certain that the look on her face was not one of amusement. "Oh, it's you." She signaled the bartender to bring her something stronger.
Sitting down across from her, Ric smiled. "You can't be dining alone."
"I was picking up some soup actually. I'm not staying." Maxie lied, rolling her eyes at the truth in his statement. She had tried dating but, more often than not, she ended up regretting it. None of them had ever been brave enough to escort her home. She didn't know what their problem was. It's not like Mac kept the gun at his hip loaded when he was home.
"Neither am I. We should dine together." He wasn't entirely sure why he was so intent on flirting with her. There was something about her that was infinitely amusing and challenging. And Ric never backed down from a challenge.
"Now that I find hard to believe." Maxie leaned back in the chair, thankful that they had decided against stools when they had bought the place.
"That we should dine together? Why is that so hard to believe?" Ric leaned forward, careful not to knock into the candle in the middle of the table.
"That I find impossible. What I find hard to believe is that you're dining alone. This town is crawling with desperate women." Maxie replied with a cold smile.
"True. But who wants desperate when they can have gorgeous?"
"You're good. I'll give you that." Maxie awarded him half a point for effort. Now if she could just get her drink...
"And you? What is your reason for being alone?" He had to admit he was curious. In his experience a girl like this was rarely without male attention or company. And even with his flirting she had yet to mention a boyfriend.
"What makes you think that is any of your business, Dr. Lansing? Forget to mention that last time we met?" Maxie tilted her head in mild annoyance.
He cocked one eyebrow skyward. "Checking up on me Miss Jones? I'm flattered."
"Don't be." She was able to keep her smile in place even as she ground the words through her teeth. "I heard it through some hospital gossip. Don't worry. Lots of guys have that problem."
"If everything people say is true, then I should be running for the hills where you are concerned." He teased right back. Port Charles was a small town and General Hospital made it even smaller. A few well placed questions and he heard all kinds of tales about one Maxie Jones.
"So run." Her answer implied that it was all true.
"But where is the fun in that?"
"Have I misled you in some way?" She put her hand over her heart mockingly. "Let me clear this up for you: I'm not interested in having 'fun' with you."
Noticing the bartender signaling him his order was ready, Ric stood up. He paused to lean down and whisper in Maxie's ear. "Too bad. Then you could have found out if all the rumors about me were true." Catching her eye, he winked at her and started toward the bar. "Until the next time Miss Jones."
Logan noticed a familiar car pull into the driveway of the Drake cabin. He left his position at the window and started to open the door, but then he realized the driver had already vacated the car and vanished into thin air. He could have sworn…
He was barely able to protect his face from the explosion of splintering wood as Patrick kicked open the front door as easily as if it were made of toothpicks. He had never been afraid of his brother before this moment. There had been plenty of times when he had worried what he might do, how he might react, but he had never seen Patrick enraged. Logan took a cautious step backwards, but Patrick reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his red and blue striped shirt, lifting him off of the ground.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Logan squeaked out, his eyes wide as he noticed the cold, vacant stare his brother's deep brown eyes had taken on.
Patrick didn't say a word though it looked like he wanted to say a lot. Instead, he flung Logan across the living room like a rag doll and his boot connected with his brother's ribs in one mind-blowing smack. He waited for Logan to roll over and face him before delivering a second kick to his face.
"You son of a bitch!" Logan squealed, trying to block his face and stop the blood from spewing any worse than it already was. His hands were soaked in it.
Instantly, he was on his feet again, but there was little relief in that, because he was on his back in two seconds flat, a roundhouse kick sending him tumbling over the coffee table. "What did you think you were doing?" Patrick sneered, crouching down to sit on Logan's legs so that he was trapped beneath him. Grabbing the object closest to him, Patrick slapped his brother in the face with the remote.
"You can't be serious!" Logan shot back, scrambling to get to his feet once Patrick was no longer holding him down. "She deserved a lot worse." He muttered, watching those brown eyes ignite.
Patrick was through with talking. He bent down, took Logan by the shirt collar once more, and slammed him into the refrigerator causing several items on top of it to land on his brother's head. He wanted to hurt him until he stopped moving, but that wouldn't have been smart. Call him the worst kind of hypocrite, but he wasn't going to wait for Logan to come after Robin again.
"I'm ashamed to call you my brother." Patrick growled, throwing Logan into a heap on the floor when he tried to stand up.
"Pot, this is Kettle calling. Stop being stupid, Patrick. Robin isn't worth this. I'm your brother; I'm your family, she's not!" Logan reminded him.
"You're nothing, that's what you are!" Patrick argued, kicking him in the stomach before turning his back on him. It didn't take a genius to figure out what his brother would do next. In fact, he was counting on it. Feeling his arms being pulled over his head, he put up almost no fight when his body shifted and he was propelled in the direction of the cabinets. His face collided with one of the bottom cabinets and his head involuntarily jerked back. He reached for his head just as he was dragged to his feet. The blow to his chin made his teeth chatter. He smoothed his hand over his busted lip and wiped it on his jeans, his eyes wild as he caught sight of his brother's scraped face.
The blast of a gunshot tore through the air and both brothers turned to see who had interrupted them. Mac Scorpio stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Logan. He set his jaw and aimed his gun at each of them. "What's going on here?" The words were slightly above a whisper but the hatred in his eyes did not go unnoticed by either of them.
"My brother came in and attacked me." Logan's head snapped to the right, his eyes incredulous.
"Obviously you got the most licks in." Mac observed, looking Patrick up and down. "Do you want to press charges?" They shared a quick glance of understanding.
"Oh, I want to press charges alright." Patrick answered, smiling in his brother's direction. Checkmate.