Brenda peered through the lace panels at either side of her front door, watching Jax as he jogged up her street towards Blue’s car. The full moon reflecting off the fresh blanket of snow cast enough light so that she could still see him almost until he reached the corner.

"The moon, as it shone on the new-fallen snow, gave the luster of mid-day to objects below……" she recited to herself softly. When Jax’s dark bomber jacket and jeans helped him disappear into the night, Brenda turned back towards the foyer and leaned against the doorjamb. The box of Christmas decorations still lay half in and half out of the living room, sending her even further into a holiday fantasy as she closed her eyes.

They would find the tallest, fullest evergreen that Mr. Evans had at the small charity tree lot just around the corner. She could almost picture Jax dragging it back to the brownstone, where she would be waiting with mugs of hot cocoa and freshly-baked cookies. After stringing popcorn in front of the fire, they would spend the evening decorating the tree. Then she would make her special recipe for roast chicken and dumplings, which they would eat picnic style on the coffee table. The only light in the room would come from the tree and the flickering blaze in the fireplace. And then, after she cleared the dishes, Jax would lay her down on the large cushions from the sofa and make love to her until they both fell asleep snuggled in each others’ arms…….only to wake and make love again……

Suddenly, her eyes shot open. The blare of a car horn pierced her dream, bringing her back to reality with a start. Brenda turned back to the door and pushed the curtains aside, trying to see what was causing all the commotion. She could vaguely hear someone shouting, but the horn was wailing so loudly that she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

"Punk kids….." Brenda let the curtain fall back into place with a disgusted snort. "I hope they don’t cause so much noise that they spoil Jax’s plan and scare off Junior……" She turned and was about to go back towards her kitchen when she heard it again. Someone was calling a name. As she slowly revolved and strained her ears, the sound grew closer. And clearer.

It was HER name. Somebody was shouting HER name. Brenda’s hands trembled as she reached for the curtain. Was Junior really stupid enough to announce his arrival? Or could it be Jax? She chewed on her lower lip and then placed her ear against the glass of the windows that flanked the door.

"Jax……" She breathed his name softly when she recognized his voice. It WAS Jax! He was calling her name – no, he was frantically SCREAMING her name. But why? Brenda reached for the latch to open the deadbolt on the front door but then hesitated. He was shouting something else – not just her name. What was it?

She put her ear to the window again, then peeked through the curtains. She could see him now, racing back towards the brownstone. He cupped his hands to his mouth occasionally as he called to her – but she still couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. Was it – lock the door?

Brenda stared down at the deadbolt and frowned. {It IS locked. He specifically *told* me to lock it before he left – he even *saw* me lock it. So why would he…..} The shouting grew closer – Brenda was *sure* now that she was hearing him correctly. Lock the door. Lock the door. But why would he be telling her to ……

"Oh, my God…….OH, MY GOD!!!" Brenda’s hands flew to her mouth to stifle her scream. He meant the *back* door! Something must have gone wrong with the plan and he wanted her to keep Junior out! Her chest heaving, precious seconds ticked by before Brenda’s feet got the message from her brain to move. She finally propelled herself through the foyer, past the open bathroom door and down the hallway towards the darkened kitchen.

The *darkened* kitchen.

She froze in place about five feet from the kitchen door. {Did you leave the lights on, or didn’t you? You usually turn the lights off when you leave a room, but you were walking with Jax and then his cell phone rang…..} Brenda hesitated a few more seconds, then snaked an arm around the doorjamb from the hallway to flip a switch and flood the kitchen with light.

The *empty* kitchen. Everything looked just as she had left it – back door closed, pots and pans draining in the rack from supper, the dishwasher humming contentedly. Brenda put her flat hand to her chest, willing herself to calm down, and took a deep breath. She walked briskly towards the back door to do as Jax instructed and was almost there when she slipped on a large puddle on the floor. Managing to catch herself on a chair, she was stretching an arm towards the back door when it hit her.

A puddle. Just like that morning when Brian delivered the groceries and the snow melted off his shoes. She slipped then, just as she did now. When she took a closer look at the back door, her heart skipped a beat. It was locked. Somebody had come into her kitchen while she was at the front door, made puddles with his wet shoes, and locked the door again – trapping her in there with him.

"BRENDA!!!!"

The scream was still bubbling up from her diaphragm when Brenda heard the pounding at the back door. She almost fainted with relief when she saw Jax’s tousled blonde curls through the window. "Jax!"

"Open the door, Brenda!!" Her hands trembled but somehow she managed to throw back the bolt. It barely cleared the doorjamb when Jax burst through, gathering her into his arms. "Brenda! Oh, my God, Brenda, you’re OK!"

She only indulged herself in the pleasure of resting her head against his chest for a split second. "Jax!" She pulled back and gripped his forearms tightly, speaking in halting sobs. "The door was open before, and now it was locked……"

Before she could finish, Jax put his hand over her mouth to stop her hysterical ramblings. "Brenda, I need you to just shut up and listen to me, OK?" She nodded her agreement, her chest still heaving as he stared deeply into the dark velvet of her eyes. "I want you to go next door to old lady Boyer’s house and call 9-1-1. Tell them that there’s an officer badly hurt and they should send the paramedics pronto."

He lowered his hand and her mouth shifted into gear again as her eyes widened and she pointed to the kitchen wall phone. "Blue’s hurt? I can call right there……"

"I want you *out of this house*, Brenda – do you understand me? " Jax gripped her forearms tightly and her eyes got even wider. "Tell them your address and that another officer needs assistance – NOW!!"

Her hands trembled and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "But Jax……I can’t……." She shook her head to refuse even as he was opening the back door pulling her onto the porch. "I can’t leave you……."

"I’ll be fine, Brenda….." He pulled the Glock 9mm from his shoulder holster, checked the clip of ammunition, and then released the safety. "Now do as I told you!" Jax yanked open the back door and gave her a gentle shove. "RUN!!"

Brenda quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and then took off down the steps at a sprint. She wrapped her arms around her chest to ward off winter’s chill that seeped through her silver silk shirt as she gingerly picked her way through the snow drifts towards the gangway between the two brownstones. Jax came down the steps as far as he needed to see her make her way safely through and then, when she dug her foot into the snow bank of her neighbor’s front lawn, he turned his attention back to Brenda’s porch.

He was a silent angel of death, floating up the back steps, gripping his weapon tightly with both fists and holding it over his head at the ready. After entering the kitchen, Jax closed the door and then eyed the darkened hallway warily. He moved just to the entry to the hallway, propping his left shoulder against the doorjamb as he peered into the blackness.

"MAC!!" His hands trembled slightly on the pistol as Jax wiped his own brow to clear his vision of nervous perspiration. "You might as well come out!! It’s just you and me!!"

Silence met his greeting, drawing some muttered obscenities that he was glad Brenda wasn’t around to hear. Jax licked his lips, re-adjusted the grip on his weapon, and then inched his way slowly into the hallway. He swung back and forth erratically, holding the pistol out in front of him, one eye narrowed to aim at the first moving object that came into his line of sight.

He was almost halfway down the hallway – near the entrance to the bathroom – and still no sign of an intruder. "Mac!!" Jax called his name again, eyes darting forward, behind, all around frantically. "Come on out, man!! The jig’s up!! You haven’t got a prayer!!"

As he passed the darkened bathroom, Jax glanced inside long enough to catch the glint of metal. The sniper rifle still was leaning against the sink, just where he had left it earlier. He debated getting it, but in a close encounter inside the house, it would be wasted firepower. He’d do better with his trusty Glock. Taking another determined breath, Jax gritted his teeth and moved farther down towards the front foyer of the brownstone.

He stopped to wipe the perspiration from his brow again, muttering a few more things his mother wouldn’t at all have approved of. {How can I be sweating like a bloody pig when it’s colder in here than a witch’s …….?} A chill ran through Jax’s body, which he attributed to nerves. But then he noticed it – he was close enough to the front door to see the small table where Brenda usually stacked her mail. The lace-trimmed doily thing that covered it was blowing gently in the breeze.

The breeze. As Jax edged out of the darkness of the hallway into the lighted foyer, he saw the source of the icy breeze that was ruffling the doily and sending shivers up his spine. The breeze was coming through the wide-open front door to the brownstone.

"D*MNIT!!" Jax’s jaw firmed and he swung the pistol around wildly, hoping against hope as he looked up the staircase that it was just a trick. But he was unfortunately – maliciously – disappointed. He had been so anxious to get Brenda out of the house – never figuring for an instant that Mac might have tricked them both and snuck out the front door. Nausea rose in his throat as he realized that he had just probably sent the one woman he loved to her certain death in the front yard. "D*MNIT ALL TO BLOODY BLUE H*LL!!"

Jax stood there for a fraction of a second and then his jaw firmed with determination again. If Mac had gone outside hoping to waylay Brenda, his Glock wouldn’t be worth a tinker’s d*mn at long range. His best chance would be with the sniper rifle, especially with the night-scope attachment. He strode quickly towards the hallway as he reached towards his shoulder to re-holster the pistol.

Just as he was about to turn the corner into the bathroom and flip on the light switch, he caught sight of it coming out of the darkness. There was a soft rustling, and then a banshee yell that echoed to the bowels of h*ll as the glint of steel flashed down before his eyes. Jax barely had time to deflect the blade before it sank into his chest, sending spears of white-hot pain though his body. His finger tightened reflexively on the trigger of the Glock, but his arm was tilted up at such an angle that the shot passed into Brenda’s ceiling uselessly. The last thing he saw as he passed from consciousness, sinking onto Brenda’s hallway floor, were Mac’s demented eyes behind the ski mask.

*****

"Mrs. Boyer!!" Brenda pounded harder on the front door of the neighboring brownstone. "MRS. BOYER!!!" After what seemed like an eternity, a white-haired old lady gingerly opened the door a crack. "It’s Brenda, Mrs. Boyer, and I’ve got an emergency! Can I come inside and use your phone?"

She almost sang loud hosannas when the old lady closed the door and she heard the rattling of the security chain being released. "Come in, dear," Mrs. Boyer crooned. "You’ll catch your *death* out there without a coat on!"

"Yeah – something like that!" Brenda smiled grimly as she rushed past Mrs. Boyer for the hall phone. Her hands trembled as she punched in the three digits for emergency assistance. Again, time seemed to crawl by before somebody answered the phone.

"9-1-1 Emergency – how may we help you?"

Brenda took gulps of air, trying to calm herself. "This is Brenda Barrett. I’m at 982 Water Street, and I need the police and paramedics here right away!"

"And what is the nature of your emergency, ma’am?"

Brenda glanced up at the ceiling, trying desperately to remember Jax’s exact words. "There’s a police officer hurt and another one needs assistance right now!"

"What is the nature of the officer’s injuries, ma’am?"

"I don’t know!!" Brenda danced from one foot the other impatiently. "I just know that Lieutenant Jacks told me to come here and call for help and said he needs it RIGHT NOW!!"

She heard papers rustling – then the sound of her "Einstein" of an operator talking to another emergency operator before she came back on the line. "We’ll send someone just as soon as we can, Miss Barrett. Now if you’ll just stay on the line so I can get a little more information from you….."

"I can’t……." Brenda kept glancing towards the front yard anxiously. She hadn’t heard anything since she had left Jax in the brownstone with Junior. Surely if there was some kind of confrontation, she would have heard shouting – or even the sound of Jax firing shots in the air to scare the kid. "I can’t stay on this line any longer. I have to go," she blurted, waving her free hand in the air nervously. "Bye!!"

She slammed the receiver down on the phone and rushed past her gawking, open-mouthed neighbor. "Thanks for letting me use the phone, Mrs. Boyer." Brenda started to pull the front door closed behind her. "You should just probably stay inside here until the police come!"

"But what about you, dear?" Mrs. Boyer asked shakily. "Shouldn’t you stay inside where it’s safe, too?"

Jax’s orders flashed through her brain. He told her to get out of the house – to go next door and call 9-1-1 – to tell them about an officer being hurt and him needing assistance – but he hadn’t *specifically* told her not to come back. She chewed on her lower lip, debating whether or not she should try to go back to help him somehow. Of course, she didn’t want to get in his way or be more trouble to him, either. Handling Junior would be problems enough.

She was still standing in Mrs. Boyer’s doorway when the brainstorm hit her. {V’s at the other end of the block! She would have a gun or something to use to protect herself – maybe she could help Jax fight off Junior! Or maybe she could help Blue!}

"Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Boyer, but I think I’ll just go stand down at the end of the block and watch for the police!" Brenda smiled and pulled the door shut behind her, not wanting to scare the little old lady any more than she needed.

She stood on the front porch for a few moments, wringing her hands and stomping her feet briskly. {Are you *sure* you should be doing this, Brenda? Maybe you should stay in side……} Just as she rubbed her arms to try to warm herself in the cold night, the sound of a shot from inside her own brownstone made her heart skip a beat.

"Jax!" Tears sprang to Brenda’s eyes and she rushed down the steps of Mrs. Boyer’s porch towards the side yard. {He’s OK – he was just scaring off Junior. You’ve got to think positive.} She kept repeating the mantra to herself as she waded through the snow, retracing her steps from just a few minutes earlier. Then, just as she came to the edge of Mrs. Boyer’s yard, Brenda froze in place when she saw her front door standing wide open.

{It was locked. It was closed and locked when I ran back to the kitchen – before Jax came.} Brenda’s heart rate tripled. {Maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea after all. Maybe I should go find V.} She backtracked into the snow drift, keeping her eyes trained on her front porch the entire time. {Go get V. She can help Jax and keep you safe if something went wrong and Junior wasn’t scared……}

Brenda almost tripped when she stumbled out of the snowdrifts and her feet hit the pavement of Mrs. Boyer’s front walk. She stamped off the excess snow, clutched her midsection to try to ward off the cold, and then headed down the steps and onto the sidewalk. After pausing only briefly to make sure which way was south, she turned to her left and started jogging as well as she could on the icy concrete towards the corner.

The night was cold and still – deathly still. Brenda’s breath came out in small clouds as she made her way towards help. There were no sirens yet – she said a word to herself that wasn’t very ladylike to express her opinion of Port Charles’ 9-1-1 service. Suddenly, a shiver that had nothing to do with the wintry temperatures went down her spine. There was somebody else on the street with her. Somebody following about 25 feet behind her.

{Make a run for it. V will know what to do. She’ll……} The crisp clearness of the night only contributed to Brenda’s panic. She had gone about three houses past Mrs. Boyer’s when she got an unobstructed view of the corner. There were no cars parked there. None at all. Not even close by.

{Oh, my God…..where’s V? Did Junior do something to V?}

"Nice night, isn’t it?"

Her scream erupted full-blown the minute Brenda heard his voice. It was the same voice she had heard that day in the traffic jam – and at the press conference. She could feel his presence not three feet behind her. Just as her adrenaline kicked in and she tried to make a mad dash around him, the Slasher wound his arms around Brenda’s waist, lifting her clear off the ground.

"LET ME GO!!!" Brenda kicked wildly, her arms pin-wheeling in the air. "JAX!!!!!"

But the Slasher was much bigger and stronger than she was. He quickly brought her back down, wrapping an arm around her neck from behind. "He won’t be able to help you any more, Miss Barrett," he chuckled demonically. Brenda whimpered when she felt something sharp prick through her silk blouse at the collarbone. "And I’m afraid we have a little overdue business to settle."

{Keep your head. Make every move count.} Brenda tried to remember the things she had learned in a self-defense class that she took before the agoraphobia confined her to the brownstone. When her feet touched the ground again, she tried to reach behind her to claw the Slasher’s face, but he was one move ahead. He pulled the blade of the knife up to her throat as they did an obscene dance of death on the sidewalk, spinning and turning in the night.

*****

{Help Brenda…….you’ve got to help Brenda……}

Jax swam up through the red fog towards consciousness. He shifted his weight, trying to push his head up off the floor, and immediately blinding pain locked a vise-grip on his chest. Profanities flowed freely but somehow he managed to pull himself to a sitting position in the hallway of the brownstone.

When he looked down at his chest, the blossoming red stain on his shirt came as no surprise. Mac obviously wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Jax he had made with Blue. Removing the knife would guarantee that he would bleed to death in very little time at all.

Jax chewed on his lower lip, blinking his eyes and trying to keep himself coherent. He knew he had to do something to stop the bleeding just long enough so he could get to the rifle and save Brenda. No doubt Mac had gone outside after her – and Jax’s pistol would be of little use if they were too far out of range.

Gritting his teeth and calling on every deity he had ever heard of, Jax dragged himself across the floor the short distance to the bathroom. His hand shot out and closed around the barrel of the rifle triumphantly – he had foolishly allowed Mac the upper hand once. He wouldn’t do it again. Using the butt of the rifle to push himself along, he scooted over to a towel rack and pulled down a fluffy white bath sheet, which he pressed over his chest with a loud groan.

A few minutes later, pale and shaking like a leaf, Jax emerged from the bathroom on his feet. His eyes were feral – feverish and shocky already from the knife wound, yet intensely determined to stop Mac before he hurt anyone else. His shirt bulged over the bulky towel, which he had tied crosswise across the gaping slice in his chest to try to stop the flow of blood. He staggered into the hallway, pausing to debate which way to go when he heard Brenda’s scream.

{Somebody up there must be on my side. At least I didn’t waste precious time and energy in the back yard.} Jax stumbled towards the front door, ramming his shoulder against the doorjamb in the process, which drew another round of obscenities. He kicked open the screen door and strode haltingly onto the porch, squinting against the pain and perspiration that flowed freely into his eyes.

Another high-pitched scream drew his attention. Jax lurched to the south end of Brenda’s porch, steadying himself against a concrete column. He shook his head to try to clear it and then peered into the darkness, where he finally spotted two figures engaged in a struggle about four houses down on the sidewalk. Narrowing his eyes to try to focus them, he gave thanks when he made out Brenda’s slighter form and pale silver shirt that shone like a beacon in the moonlight.

"D*mnit!!" Jax put the rifle to his shoulder, wincing at the pain that gripped his body once again. He fitted his eye to the night scope but unfortunately Brenda and Mac were locked in a fierce struggle. One bobbed, the other wove, one came up, the other came down – and they remained wrapped around each other, making a clean shot virtually impossible.

"Come on, love – move away from him just a little……..just so I can get one shot." Jax whispered the words to himself, biting his lower lip until he tasted blood. "One shot is all I’ll need……"

The sirens. Jax heard them wailing in the distance, coming closer but not quickly enough. Brenda must have gone to the neighbor’s and called for help, but then come back outside. He could almost see the flashing lights now – that, or he was about to faint again. Either way, he couldn’t afford to wait much longer.

God helps those who help themselves. Jane Jacks’ words to her family came back to echo in Jax’s ears just as things looked bleakest. Brenda landed an elbow in Mac’s gut, spinning him off balance just enough that he loosened his grip on her. Jax pressed his eye to the scope again, squeezed the trigger, and shattered the peaceful night with a rifle blast that probably woke people three blocks over.

He remained conscious long enough to see Mac go down into the street. Jax could tell by the way the body jerked that his aim was true – even though Brenda went sprawling too, he knew Mac’s momentum probably took her with him. If he just had managed to get the shot off before Mac cut her……

The sirens were getting closer now, the flashing lights getting brighter. Jax slumped down the side of the porch onto the floor, holding the rifle triumphantly against his side. "I got him………" he mumbled groggily. "I kept you safe, Brenda……..I kept my promise…….."

*****

She was falling. It didn’t feel like she had been stabbed, or like Junior had slashed her throat, although Brenda vaguely considered the possibility that perhaps dying didn’t hurt after all. The last thing she remembered was the sound of the sirens. She had taken one last deep breath to try to fight Junior off– if she were going to die, at least she’d hurt him in the process.

Brenda had called on her last ounce of strength to pull her elbow back and jab Junior where it counted. Unfortunately, she hadn’t considered his height and only ended up landing it in his stomach. Just as she felt the "woof" of his breath on the back of her neck, there was a loud crack. She almost thought it was a tree limb breaking under the weight of ice. Then she felt a sharp jerk and the both of them went flying into the street.

The stars in the sky weren’t the only ones Brenda saw for a few moments. She felt Junior’s body on top of hers, but somehow he felt different – relaxed. Almost crushing her. When he didn’t move for a few seconds, she sucked cold air into her lungs and then let out another blood-curdling scream.

The previously-quiet night was turning into a symphony of sound. Brenda heard the sirens, echoing from every corner of the street, it seemed. She felt the pavement reverberate with the pounding of feet. The low roar of a helicopter’s rotors overhead hummed in her ears. Just as her shivering went into overdrive, she felt somebody pull Junior’s heavy body off hers.

"Miss Barrett!!" V’s voice cut through the fog. "Miss Barrett!! Are you OK??!!"

"I’m…….I’m…….." Brenda rubbed a shaky hand against her forehead as V helped her to her feet. "I don’t know…….."

V peered at her through the darkness, holding Brenda with one hand and her pistol at the ready in the other. She suddenly re-holstered her weapon and then turned to shout over her shoulder, "Get those paramedics over here, NOW!!"

Brenda felt the street rumble with more rushing footsteps. Hands came at her from every direction, helping her to sit and wrapping a large blanket around her shivering shoulders. She looked up as another patrolman shoved the Slasher’s body away from her while a partner trained a pistol on his head. "Is he……."

V glanced over at them. One of the patrolmen leaned down, pulled off the ski mask, pressed two fingers to his throat, and then nodded brusquely. "He’s dead, Miss Barrett."

More paramedics moved expert hands over Brenda’s body, checking for cuts and bruises. Suddenly her head came up and she clutched for V’s arm. "Jax!" She tried to get to her feet, only to be pushed back down again. "I have to go to Jax! He’s back in the brownstone, and I think he’s hurt……"

Just then, another uniformed officer came trotting up to V. "Lieutenant Jacks is alive, ma’am," he muttered. "He shot the Slasher and then passed out on Miss Barrett’s porch. He’s got a pretty nasty stab wound to the chest."

"No……NO!!" Brenda became frantic as V tried to grab her hands and calm her. "I have to go to him!"

"I’m sure the paramedics are doing all they can for Jax, Brenda," V crooned. "Now why don’t I have one of the other officers take you back inside the brownstone so you can get warm and cleaned up……."

"NO!!" She watched wide-eyed as a gurney zipped past them bearing Jax’s unconscious body. "I want to be with him!!"

V cast a wary eye towards the paramedic who had treated Brenda. "She’s OK," he said grimly. "A few minor cuts and scratches but nothing that a little antiseptic won’t help."

"Miss Barrett, Jax is going to the hospital." V gripped Brenda’s arms tightly as she stared deeply into her eyes. "Now I know how you feel about going ………places, so why don’t you just come back to your brownstone with me and I’ll make sure to have somebody call us as soon as he……"

Brenda suddenly whipped her arms in a circular motion to throw off V’s grasp. "You let go of me!" she growled, her eyes fiercely protective. She pointed a shaky finger at Jax’s retreating form. "Jax put his life on the line to keep me safe! He made me a promise, and he kept it!! I’m going with him to the hospital!!" She inched her way towards V, inspiring the officer to retreat a few steps. "Now are you going to get the H*LL out of my way, or do I have to *move* you myself??!!"

V hesitated just a split second and then stepped aside. Brenda clutched the blanket more firmly around her shoulders and then marched regally towards the ambulance – and the man she loved.

To be concluded……..

Author’s note: Please remember that at this point in the story, Brenda doesn’t know yet that the man who attacked her was really Mac, and not his son.