If this had been under any other circumstances, he would have protested. He would have refused, his mother's disapproval and fight with Dillon be damned. But this was beyond petty jealousies and insecurities. Someone was taking members of his family. There was no reason. No explanation. So far as Lucas knew no demand for ransom. No indication the kidnappings were going to stop. Lance could be next on this madman's list. Right now the more people looking for this asshole and working to get Kristina and Morgan home the better. Even if it was Georgie.
At some point in his life, Lucas could remember seeing Georgie as something other than his rival for Dillon. At some point, she was his cousin, maybe even a friend on some level. He had always been closer to Maxie, but he had enjoyed time with his quieter cousin as well. She hadn't done anything overtly hurtful to him. It was what she had that he never would.
She was Dillon's first love. And while he had accepted it had taken Dillon a longer time to figure out who he was than Lucas had, it didn't mean he actually had to like the fact he wasn't the only love Dillon had in his life. Or the fact that Georgie could have given his husband a child. The one they lost.
The aftermath of the miscarriage had been devastating for both, but it was only Dillon who had run clear across the country to escape the pain. Georgie had shoved Dillon away, hiding behind Mac's disapproval. He knew at some point in the years between then and now, the former couple had talked and come to terms with their grief and loss. But it was still a bond between them that Lucas knew he could never penetrate or fully understand. And he hated it.
Georgie wasn't sure what she was expecting when she stepped off the platform to pick up her bags, but Lucas Jones wasn't it. She could feel the hatred radiating from him and inwardly flinched. He had never been able to accept that she and Dillon shared a past, the love of a child, but she had been desperately hoping that they could get past it what with Kristina's kidnapping and all. If he was the one picking her up, surely it had to be a good sign, right? Otherwise Robin would have. "Lucas, hi." She greeted him awkwardly.
"Georgie." He tried to smile, honestly he did, but it just wasn't in him.
"I knew you liked to watch planes when we were younger, but I have to say you're the last person I expected to see." She told him earnestly, attempting a smile even as her lips protested.
"Believe me if you told me this morning I would be picking you up, I'd have said you're crazy."
"It is good to see you." It wasn't a lie. She had missed seeing him, even if most of the visits resulted in yelling, pouting, or her own destructive behavior. He had often accused her of pretending Lance was her son instead of his, but she had sworn up and down that that simply wasn't the case. Yes, the child they had lost was a boy, but when she looked at Lance she saw her second cousin, her cousin's pride and joy, and Dillon's second chance at happiness.
"You probably want to get your stuff and go home." Lucas offered awkwardly. He knew he did, just to reassure himself that Lance was home and ok. Why hadn't someone written a handbook on this sort of thing?
"I am anxious to see how Alexis is doing. She must be a wreck." Georgie mused, following Lucas to the baggage claim.
"I think your dad is threatening to chain her to the bed. Of course Robin probably isn't doing much better."
"Well, I can imagine. She loves Kristina just as much as the rest of us." Georgie nodded, picking up on the subtle grief in Lucas' tone.
Lucas froze. How had he forgotten Georgie was already been on her way when Morgan had been taken? Slowly he turned around, meeting his cousin's eyes for the first time in five years without hatred. "It's not just about Kristina."
Georgie's heart dropped to her feet and her eyes widened. "What are you talking about?" Was this why he had been the one to come and get her? Had something happened to Lance? Is that why Dillon wasn't here? Is that why Robin was upset?
"It's Morgan. He's gone."
"Gone?" Georgie squeaked out.
"There was a fire drill or something at school yesterday. A girl saw Morgan talking with some woman and he never made it back in the classroom."
"You're being cruel." Georgie accused him sharply. "Unnecessarily cruel." She spat.
"I'm not." Lucas shook his head and put his hands on Georgie's arms. "I swear on BJ's grave I would not make something up like this."
"But that's impossible! Kristina was just taken two days ago!" Georgie shrieked, her head shaking rapidly from side to side. In the time it had taken her to fly home, another member of her family was stolen? Memories flashed through her mind like a psychotic reel. She saw Morgan holding a cup of juice in one hand and a crayon on the other, his eyes fixed on his project. This couldn't be happening. "Morgan wouldn't just go off with a stranger."
"That's what Robin keeps saying. Mac thinks it means..." Lucas felt his voice trail off, unable to say the name of the man that had already cost his family so much.
"It means what?" Georgie prodded. "If you know something..."
"Mac thinks it means Sonny. He thinks it's related to Sonny."
"Sonny is in prison." Georgie whistled through her teeth.
"But not all his enemies are. Or his friends." Mac hadn't mentioned the possibility, but Lucas remembered his former brother-in-law well. If Sonny wanted his children, there were more people than just Jason Morgan around to make sure it would happen.
"No." Georgie argued with a quivering bottom lip. "No."
"I don't want to be right. But there's no other connection between Kristina and Morgan. There's been no ransom demand."
"It's still early. There could be..." Georgie insisted desperately. "This could simply be about money."
"I hope I'm wrong. But I've worked too many missing person cases to not consider all the angles here."
"They're just little kids." Georgie protested.
"Strong kids. Don't forget it."
Georgie could no longer stand, nor did she feel comfortable leaning on Lucas. She plopped her suitcase beneath her and sat down, trembling. With no ransom demand and no contact, what did that leave? Revenge. The word sprung to her mind without her permission. "Take me to Robin." She begged. "Please."
"The van's right outside."
Had her parents experienced this feeling when she had gone missing? Robin mulled over that question as she lay with her knees to her chest and her back to Dr. Alan Quartermaine. She had seen him a few times over her lifetime, only a few occasions actually noteworthy. He had been her rock when Stone had been diagnosed with AIDS and then again when her results had come back positive. He had been the first to congratulate her when she was awarded custody of Morgan. Since then, she had only seen him at Lance's birthday party and that could have only been because they were hosting it at the Quartermaine mansion. He had made no further effort to contact her until now and it didn't take a genius to figure out why.
Alan lightly patted her shoulder and spoke to her the same way he had when she was seventeen watching the love of her life slip away in front of her eyes. She didn't listen to the words because in them lay obvious evidence of his pity; instead she focused on his constant, calming tone and found far more comfort in it than she would have in any two-cent certainties he might have been offering.
Patrick paced the length of the hallway, back and forth, fourteen steps one way, twenty-eight both ways. The walls desperately needed some color; until now he hadn't noticed just how stark and awful they were. The paint was fresh and clean and he hadn't minded it upon moving on, but it bothered him now. Nothing about this hallway told stories about them, not even a little bit. He realized it was still new for them, that they hadn't lived here very long, but shouldn't there be a picture of them somewhere? The pictures were downstairs on the mantle, the living room, the bedrooms, but not in the hallway where they would be able to see them every time they got ready for bed or were just getting out of it. The picture of them playing with the racetrack was downstairs; the picture of Robin and the kids was on their nightstand.
That picture said it all, he told himself. It had been there, in front of them, this whole time, but they had been too busy to pay any attention. It was almost as if the kidnappers had the same picture and were drawing thick red X's over their faces. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to their bedroom door, listening for evidence of Robin resting. He knew she wasn't, knew that nothing would convince her of its importance until her son and cousin were home, maybe not even then. He could easily imagine her grabbing a hold of them and never letting go.
What kind of God let this happen? The kind that stole your mother, a bitter voice spoke up. The kind that broke up your family. The kind that drove Logan to physically attack Robin. Choking back unwanted tears, Patrick gripped his fingers into fists and brought them to his mouth, muffling the sound of his own pain.
A hand on his back startled him and he stood up straight, his eyes meeting Alan Quartermaine's. As a constant fixture in Robin's life when her world had fallen apart around her not so long ago, Patrick had thought it smart to consult him on this to check on her. Alan's eyes were somber when they settled on Patrick's. He gripped Patrick's shoulders tight. "I'm very worried about her, Patrick."
"I am too. Would she talk to you?" Patrick wondered. When he had walked into the loft, she had been mumbling quietly, her hands fisting and releasing. The scene was all too familiar and he had and he had had no choice but to turn his face away from her pain.
"No." Alan shook his head. "I really wish you would let me prescribe something for her to sleep."
"No. I can't do that to her again." Patrick had never forgiven himself for inducing sleep after her attack mere months ago. He could still see her eyes open in surprise halfway through her exam; he could still hear her begging him to take her home.
"I don't know if she is strong enough to handle this." The older man admitted though his eyes were conflicted.
"Then you don't know her very well, Dr. Quartermaine." Patrick countered, shrugging off the man's advice. "Robin's the strongest person I know."
"She's already been through so much," Alan reasoned.
"That doesn't mean she's about to give up." Patrick assured him.
"I hope to God you're right Patrick. She has such a wonderful spirit." Alan took a shaky breath. "Listen to me: she needs to eat something. I don't care what it is. A candy bar, juice, a handful of raisins, milk. Something. She needs to keep her strength up since we really have no way of knowing how long this is going to last."
"Elizabeth said they tried to get her to eat some soup earlier but she threw it up. Her stomach can't take anything right now." Patrick explained.
"She can have crackers. Nothing else until she feels confident she can keep it down. Understood?"
"Yes. Thank you, Dr. Quartermaine." He watched the doctor leave with uncertainty in his eyes. Now he was supposed to take care of Robin on his own. Surely there must be someone stronger than him, smarter than him, more compassionate than he was for the job. But there was no one else. This was something he had to do for the woman he loved even though it may very well kill him. You selfish bastard, he thought. Stop thinking about your own pain and focus on hers.
Patrick opened the bedroom door and just stood watching Robin as she hunched over, her head in her hands as she fought her body's need for sleep. He had had to be told that his mother was dead by a complete stranger instead of his own father. No one had even thought to comfort him but he wasn't so sure he would have let them anyway. He didn't try to understand her pain or the hollowness taking up residence in his soul, he simply watched her. He didn't know what he was waiting for. She certainly wasn't going to talk to him. She hadn't spoken at all. Her attempts only led to screaming, crying fits when her words were nothing more than choppy breaths and broken sobs. She was a million miles away from him.
"Do you think he's cold?" Robin's voice broke through the pounding in Patrick's head. It was so quiet he was almost convinced she hadn't said anything, that he had imagined it. Forcing himself into the room, he sat next to her, not attempting to touch her in case it wasn't what she wanted. Her thick cinnamon mane had fallen from its loose ponytail hours ago and her face was almost as pale as the sheets that covered her lower body. If her hands had stopped shaking since he had come home, he was unaware.
"No." The word tore from Patrick's throat without a moment's hesitation. "They know how important he and Kristina are and that it wouldn't be in their best interest to let the kids get even a chill."
"If they weren't Sonny's would you be as confident?" Robin's tone implied a challenge but there was no hostility in her voice.
"That doesn't matter." Patrick argued. "They're not just Sonny's."
"I guess that's true. Kristina's mother is the District Attorney." Robin mused.
"And Morgan's mother is the daughter of a super spy and niece of the commissioner." Patrick reminded her. "Don't doubt your importance. No one else does."