It was almost ten-thirty. She had been pleased with the way things went in court that day, although she still hadn’t made any significant headway in proving "beyond a shadow of a doubt" that Sonny Corinthos was Morgan’s murderer. After some meetings that afternoon that dragged on and on, Brenda finally got back to her desk to find a stack of phone messages and new cases that Dara assigned to her. She was silently grateful for the luxurious breakfast Jax had provided that morning when dinner turned out to be a cholesterol-laden Five Cheese Special with Sausage, delivered by an acne-plagued teenager.

After taking another bite, grimacing, and then tossing the slice of pizza back into the box, Brenda’s eyes suddenly narrowed as she looked at one of the crime scene photographs. "Well, well, well……." She quickly reached for another file, opened it, and then paged through rapidly until she found another photo that made her face light up. Doing a "happy dance" in her desk chair, Brenda smiled angelically. "Ding, dong, the slimeball’s dead…….."

The ringing of the telephone on her desk made her stop singing abruptly. {Uh-oh – what do I do if that’s Jax – asking me to have a late supper…….} She let it ring three times before picking it up warily. "Brenda Barrett…….."

"Miss Barrett?"

The voice was low and raspy, barely there. "Yes, this is Brenda Barrett. Who is this?"

"This is Jimbo. Jimmy Statler."

She almost knocked the pizza off her desk in excitement as she grabbed for a pen and paper. "Mr. Statler! Jimmy! We’ve been looking all over for you!"

"I know. I need to see you, too."

"OK……." Brenda tried to control her racing heart. "Tell me where you are and I’ll have some policemen come by and take you into protec……"

"NO! NO COPS!!"

"But Jimmy……"

"I want to see YOU, Miss Barrett! Tonight!"

"Jimmy, it’s late……"

"NOW, Miss Barrett! I need you to come to the Sunshine Mission down by the docks. Alone!"

Brenda sighed an obscenity. Why did Jimbo have to pick a run-down homeless shelter in the heart of one of Port Charles’ worst neighborhoods? "Jimmy, can’t we meet at Jake’s? Or somewhere ……."

"They’re tryin’ to KILL me, Miss Barrett! Don’t you understand? I can’t GO nowhere else!!"

"OK, OK…….." Brenda held out a hand as though Jimmy could see her trying to calm him. "I understand." She took a deep breath and then began to write directions on the paper. "Got it. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes, Jimmy. Just try to hang in there, OK?"

As she hung up the phone, Brenda momentarily chewed on her lower lip. It was probably a bad idea to go there alone……..but surely she couldn’t get in any trouble again. Not after all she had been through in the past two weeks. NOBODY could have that much bad luck.

# # # #

"You eatin’ or prayin’?"

Brenda’s eyes widened at the frazzle-haired redhead who sat just inside the front door at the Sunshine Mission. She looked around behind her, almost as though she expected the generously-endowed matron to be talking to somebody else. "Excuse me?"

The redhead sighed disgustedly. "If you’re here for the free food, you gotta wait until Deacon Larry finishes the prayer service." She pointed to her left. "Down that hall, first door on the right."

"No, no!" Brenda laughed in sudden understanding. "I’m not here for either one." She glanced back at the front door to the Mission, fondly wishing that she hadn’t been so quick to tell the cabbie not to wait for her. "I’m here to see Mr. Statler." When the redhead didn’t even blink an eye, Brenda added, "JIMMY Statler."

"Honey, you could be lookin’ for Mr. PRESIDENT JIMMY Carter and I still wouldn’t give a rat’s @ss!" the redhead drawled. She picked up her newspaper, shook it firmly, and then settled it down on the desk in front of her again, completely ignoring Brenda.

"He….uh……" Brenda squinted disdainfully at the darkened corridors of the dilapidated building. "He told me that he’d be here at the Mission," she announced. Then, she looked around and lowered her voice, almost as though she was worried about betraying Jimbo’s confidence. "He talked like he had a room here or something, and he wanted me to meet him."

"Yeah……." The redhead narrowed one eye at Brenda lewdly. "I’ll just *bet* he did."

"Ohhhhhh……." Brenda’s eyes widened. "Oh, no – not for THAT!! He’s…….well, I’m…….." She grimaced, took a deep breath, and then tried to adopt a professionally calm, competent outward appearance. "Is it possible that Mr. Statler rented a room here in the Mission?"

"Deacon Larry’s got a few spare rooms up on the third floor." The redhead continued to stare at the comics section of the newspaper. "I guess your Jimmy Whoever could be stayin’ in one of ‘em."

"Do you know *which* room?"

The redhead abruptly slammed the paper down on the desk, making Brenda jump. "Do I LOOK like I’m some kinda con-see-urge-y in a five-star hotel, LADY??!!" She shook her head and her eyes blazed at Brenda. "I told you – the Deacon keeps track of all that stuff!! It ain’t none of my business!"

"Well……." Brenda refused to be intimidated. She had faced ruthless serial killers across a courtroom many times. She told herself that one overfed, under-educated, far-from-natural redhead certainly shouldn’t cause her to break a sweat. "Since Mr. Statler’s already expecting me, I suppose it won’t be a problem finding him myself." She walked towards the darkened staircase at the end of the hall, head held high. After going up two steps, she turned back one last time. "Third floor, you said?"

"Third floor…….." The redhead had already settled back down with her newspaper. "And that’s my FINAL answer!"

Brenda mumbled a few epithets under her breath before turning back to the generously littered staircase. She raised a foot, holding it gingerly above the next step – more like someone testing the temperature of the water in a swimming pool than climbing a flight of stairs. After saying a silent prayer, she put her weight on it and then repeated the motion, slowly climbing her way towards the darkened upper floors of the Mission.

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she stopped at the landing for the second floor. Gripping the banister tightly, Brenda exhaled slowly, her upper lip trembling as she quickly scanned her surroundings. The air above the street level was slightly cooler, but a cloud of human misery and the strong scent of carnal desire hung heavy in the hallway. It was dark, but not pitch black – two bare sockets with dim yellow light bulbs were spaced at intervals down the wall on her right. When she squinted, she could faintly make out doorways – three on each side of the hall. Thankfully, all of the doors to the rooms were closed.

The abrupt wailing of a siren in the distance made Brenda jump. Raucous laughter drifted down the hallway, making her cringe when she realized what inspired it. The merriment seemed even more out of place when she realized that Deacon Larry was probably wrapping up a prayer service on the floor below. She peered up the stairs towards the next landing, took a deep breath, and then began climbing the steps again towards her destination.

The air seemed to get thicker with each step. A blinking red neon sign across the street, advertising women who could do things Brenda thought were physically impossible, shed some light through a window in the stairwell. Her eyes grew more accustomed to the light, lack thereof, light, lack thereof, and Brenda timed her footfalls to take advantage of the flashes.

Ten agonizing steps later, Brenda found herself on the third floor. The hallway was very similar to the one below – three rooms on each side. Again, two wall fixtures with yellow light bulbs provided illumination, but on this floor, one was burned out. Eerie shadows danced in front of her, adding to her dismay.

{You can do this, Brenda. Just find Jimbo and then get him the heck out of here and into police custody.} She gripped her purse strap tightly and then took a few tentative steps down the hall towards the first door on her right. Upon reaching it, she found that it was open, revealing a dank, darkened, empty room.

She muttered a prayer beneath her breath and then moved to door #2. It, too, was open and the room unoccupied. Brenda glanced across the hallway and didn’t know whether to be happy or more afraid when the door was closed. When she craned her neck forward, she could see that the doors on both right and left at the end of the hall were open.

{This must be it. Looks like he’s got the third floor to himself.} Brenda mustered all of her bravery and tiptoed to the door. She raised a fist to knock but caught her breath when the door swung open the minute she applied pressure to it.

"Mr. Statler?" she called softly. The interior appeared to be composed of one large room. When she squinted, she could make out the profile of a large upholstered chair in one corner. Newspapers and assorted bags and wrappers from takeout fast food littered the floor. She took another step inside the room and inhaled sharply when something small and furry skittered just in front of her foot.

"Mr. Statler?" Brenda was now far enough inside the room to make out the shape of a large brass bed. "Jimmy?" She inched towards it, her eyes constantly darting around to make sure she didn’t step *on* or *in* something yucky. For the first time that night, her spirits soared when she saw that the covers on top of the bed were bunched around something bulky.

"Jimbo?" She reached out a tentative hand and moved closer towards what she assumed was her sleeping informant. "I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it here sooner, but I had a terrible time getting a cab……" Brenda laughed softly but then something cold prickled at the base of her spine. {He’s sure sleeping sound. But then again, maybe he’s not sleeping……..} Fighting the momentary urge to turn around and run while she had the chance, she gritted her teeth and tried to think positive. {Maybe he’s drunk – passed out. Or maybe he sampled some of the stuff he and the Raines kid were delivering and he’s high.}

Despite the fact that the bed linens were far from immaculate, Brenda gingerly tapped the bulky form on what she prayed was something in the vicinity of its shoulder. "Mr. Statler? It’s me – Brenda Barrett." No response. "You called me earlier……." He still didn’t move, so she gathered all her intestinal fortitude and grabbed the blanket to pull it back.

She never knew that blood looked black in the dark. Brenda jumped back away from the bed as soon as she saw the dark stain spreading all over the young man’s body. He was on his back, staring silently up at the ceiling. His eyes reminded her of that weird modern painting of the pasty-faced guy, screaming for all he was worth with his hands on his face. Her breaths came in short gasps and for a minute, she thought she was going to throw up. She whirled around to run for the door and a shrill scream was torn from her throat when she collided with a very warm, very large, very ALIVE body.

"Can I help you?" It was a man, although Brenda couldn’t see his face in the darkness.

"We……..we…….." She swallowed hard. "We have to go get the Deacon…….."

"You think so?" He peered over her shoulder at the bed. "Why is that?"

Brenda pointed back at the prone figure. "That man! We have to get help!" She gasped for breath, as the walls in the small room seemed to be closing in around her. "I think he’s dead!"

"Ahhhhhh………." To her dismay, Brenda sensed that the man smiled. "But then he really doesn’t *need* our help, does he?" He shrugged slightly and she suddenly noticed that he had a firm grip on her upper arms. "At least, I do not think *I* can do anything to help him…….can you?"

The icy fingers of foreboding tickled Brenda’s spine. "Buuuuuuuut, that’s why I need to go get Deacon Larry!" she wheedled. She felt a little better when she managed to pull out of the stranger’s grasp. But he still stood between her and the doorway out of Jimbo’s room. "He might……." She edged back and forth, trying to keep her tone light, mentally kicking herself for agreeing to meet Jimmy Statler that night. "……well, he might be able to say some prayers for him or something."

The man slowly shook his head, and this time Brenda was SURE that he smiled demonically. "No, I’m afraid that even Deacon Larry won’t be able to help Mr. Statler now, Miss Barrett."

"You know his name…….and you know MY name!" When the neon sign across the street flashed again and the man turned slightly, Brenda saw the glint of something shiny in the open collar of his shirt. A pendant – in a distinctive shape.

She prayed that the dealer Nick Raines was working for couldn’t hear her heart pounding in fear. {What was that tricky move they do in football? The one Lois always calls an "end around"?} Brenda began to inch gingerly to his side. "How do you know my name?"

"You ask FAR too many questions for your own good, Miss Barrett," the stranger growled. "Now it’s MY turn to do the asking." With a tiny squeal of hysteria, Brenda made a dash for the door of the room. But the stranger was stronger, quicker, and obviously knew his football. He caught her around the waist and pulled her against him, her back colliding with the rock solid wall of his chest. The scream died in her throat when she felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressed under her chin.

"You won’t get away with this!" Brenda hissed, struggling as best she could. She tried to position herself to get in a good jab with her elbow or foot, but apparently the stranger took classes in "how to defend yourself against self-defense moves."

"And just who do you think is going to stop me?" the stranger chuckled. "The services downstairs have ended, and Deacon Larry’s serving ham sandwiches and potato salad tonight." He strengthened his hold on Brenda, shoving her chin higher with the business end of the pistol. "Every bum in a ten block radius will be chowing down on the free food." Although she tried to sound annoyed, Brenda’s whimper came out betraying the fear that inspired it. "They’ll be making so much noise that they’ll *never* hear a little thing like you screaming."

Helplessness had never been high on Brenda’s list of "qualities-I-wish-I-had-but-I-don’t." "What do you want from me?" she wheezed, her chest heaving with her efforts to fight off her attacker. "Because if you just wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now."

"You’re very smart, Miss Barrett – but then, I guess that’s how you got to be assistant DA." Her attacker dragged her further away from the door, back towards the bed and Jimbo’s body. "Now, let’s see just how smart you *really* are." He pressed the gun against her throat. "I want you to tell me everything that Nick Raines told you about the drugs he was delivering."

She drew upon some well of cocky bravery deep inside of herself. "You mean the stuff he told me before you killed him?"

Brenda yelped again when the man cocked his weapon. "Everything, Miss Barrett," he repeated. She could hear the growing impatience and anger in his voice. "Names, dates, places……..everything that lousy kid told you. And the names of everyone else who has the information."

Brenda managed to squeak out a soft laugh. "And do you *really* think I’m stupid enough to believe that you’ll let me go if I do?" She jerked her shoulders once more in defiance. "You’re going to kill me anyway, so what difference does it make if I tell you?"

"I was right the first time – you ARE a smart woman, Miss Barrett." The man traced a line up and down the side of her jaw with the barrel of the gun. "I’m not a patient man, you see, but certain business associates of mine – well," he drawled, "let’s just say that they’re *infinitely* persistent in getting the information I need – no matter how long it takes." He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "And what they don’t already know about painful persuasive techniques, they’re quick to guess."

Just as Brenda felt hot tears of regret sting her eyes, the room seemed to explode. The sound of breaking glass behind them made the stranger spin around to face the windows just beyond the bed. Even though she still felt the cold steel of the gun pressed against her neck, she felt like singing along with Deacon Larry in the next alleluia chorus.

Kismet stared stonily into the stranger’s eyes. "Let the woman go."

Jax managed to keep his composure even though his head was spinning. He had intended to enter the room silently, unseen – cloaked in the darkness of invisibility. But when he saw the gun at Brenda’s throat and heard her pitiful whimpers of fear, his concentration faltered. It was the first time his gift had ever failed him, and he prayed that she wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences.

"Stay out of this, Caped Crusader," the man sneered. "It doesn’t concern you."

"Everything that goes on in this town concerns me," Jax replied coolly. "Especially involving slime like you, Sorel."

"Ahhhhh…….he knows my name." Although she was still in mortal fear, Brenda’s ears perked up. When Jax moved to the side to come around the foot of the bed towards them, Sorel jerked Brenda backwards with him, shoving her head up further with the gun. "Don’t come any closer, Kismet. I’ll kill her on the spot."

"You’re bluffing, Sorel." Jax took another small step closer to them, outwardly unruffled. "If you kill her now, you won’t find out how much Raines told them about your drug ring. AND, you won’t have anyone to hide behind anymore when you try to get out of here……." His soft laugh sent a chill down Brenda’s spine. "Which will just make my job that much easier."

To her surprise, Brenda felt a slight shudder of apprehension go through Sorel’s body. "Stay away from me!" he shouted again. He looked around once quickly, then pulled her with him towards the door to the hallway. Jax kept pace with him, taking agonizingly controlled steps when all he really wanted to do was reach out and squash the puny crime lord like the bug he was.

"Be as smart as you *think* you are, Sorel." Jax commanded frostily. "Let the woman go. I’ll wait to finish matters between us until the next time we meet."

Brenda’s brain whirled. She could feel the mounting tension in Sorel’s body. She could see the icy tenacity in Kismet’s eyes. Unfortunately, they were both men who didn’t back down gracefully, and she was caught in the middle. Finally, one other move from self-defense class came to mind. Just as Sorel’s hand began to shake so badly that the gun at her chin wavered, she let her body go limp, collapsing in his arms in a mock faint.

It was all the opportunity that Jax needed. He sprang towards them like a sleek panther – an animal of the night. Sorel squeezed off several shots in Jax’s direction as he let Brenda drop like a sack of potatoes to the floor. She felt the drug lord back away from her towards the hallway and opened her eyes just in time to see Kismet dive to the side in a shower of sparks, clutching his upper left arm. She opened her mouth to scream but it was cut short when she hit her head against a small end table in the dark and passed into the arms of darkness.

*****

"Brenda?" Pink cotton candy clouds seemed to be wrapped around her head as she tried to open her eyes. The deep masculine voice was her anchor in the fog, and she struggled in vain to reach out for it. "Brenda? Open those beautiful eyes for me."

"Ohhhhh ………" Brenda’s eyes fluttered and she reached out blindly with her right hand while trying to sit up. "Ohhhhhhh, geeeeeeeeezzzzz…..." she moaned, clutching the side of her head. She was vaguely aware that Kismet was cradling her to his chest, one arm at the small of her back like a steel band wrapped in velvet. "Who turned out the lights?" she asked, looking around the darkened room confusedly. Her stomach heaved and the room spun. "What happened?"

Jax pushed the hair back off her forehead tenderly with his gloved hand. "You hit your head on a table when you fell and you passed out, Brenda," he crooned softly. Her vision became clearer and it all came back to her – Jimmy Statler’s dead body, the man with the eagle pendant grabbing her, and Kismet coming to her rescue.

"Did he………" She glanced towards the door to the hallway. "Did he get away – the dealer?"

"Yes." Jax’s reply was clipped. "This time." When Brenda took a breath, he held up a hand to silence her. "But the next time we meet, I won’t let that happen."

"I guess…….." She grimaced against the ache in her skull when Kismet assisted her to a full upright sitting position. "I guess I owe you another thank you," Brenda groaned, rotating her shoulders experimentally. She looked up at his glittering eyes, the only bright thing in the darkened, stifling room. "For saving my life."

"Again." Even with the mask to camouflage his features, Brenda saw his lips curl in disapproval. "Whatever possessed you to come to a place like this tonight, Brenda?"

She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. "Jimmy Statler called and asked me to come." Brenda sighed. "The man in the bed. He’s dead – but probably hasn’t been for long."

"Maybe it was a setup." Kismet gave Brenda his hand as she scuffled her feet awkwardly, trying to rise from the floor. "Maybe he called you here because his boss wanted to kill you."

Brenda shook her head firmly. "I don’t think so." She swayed a little on her feet and Kismet kept a steadying hand on her waist. "Jimbo was going to turn state’s evidence against his boss. I was going to take him to the police – for protective custody……" She snorted softly in disgust. "Guess I didn’t do much better keeping him safe than I did the Raines kid."

"It’s not your job, Brenda," Jax objected quietly.

"I know, I know……." Brenda mouthed an obscenity. "But I still don’t understand how that creep would have known I was meeting Jimbo here," she added, rubbing her forehead in confusion.

"Did you tell anyone that you were coming here tonight? Or could anyone have overheard your telephone conversation?"

"Not a soul." Again Brenda shook her head decisively. "I was alone at the office………unless…….." Her eyes widened and she got a faraway look.

"Unless?"

"Unless they’ve got my phone bugged!" The room spun again when Brenda straightened suddenly. Kismet caught her by the arm and helped her to the doorway, where she leaned against the frame to get her bearings. She took a deep breath and then suddenly looked up into his eyes. "And then, you – you knew his name – Jimbo’s boss!" Jax shrank away from her a little as she strained to remember what he called the man with the eagle pendant. "Sorel!! That’s what it was! How did you know who Sorel is?"

"We’ve had a previous run-in," Jax replied through gritted teeth. "His memory just isn’t quite as good as mine."

"But then you know something about him!" Brenda insisted. She had gotten her second wind and her determination was once again running in high gear. "You could help me! Now that I know what he looks like and you know how he operates, we could work together to bring put Sorel behind bars where he belongs!!"

"YOU’RE not going to be working with anybody, Brenda," Jax repeated grimly. He cupped the side of her face gently with his open hand, but when he touched the tender spot at the side of her skull with his fingertips, she winced. "You almost got yourself killed again tonight!"

"Work with Mac Scorpio, then!" She saw the chastising twist of his mouth and reached for Kismet’s arm as he turned away from her. "Or someone else that you trust on the PCPD! Anyone!" When Brenda managed to catch his left forearm, she caught her breath at the sinewy muscles she felt beneath his shirt. "We need to put these guys away, Kismet," she murmured urgently. "And you can help us do it."

"I can do it *myself*, Brenda," Jax whispered fiercely in reply. "I won’t risk someone’s life again ……." The cold fury in his expression wasn’t difficult for him to summon. "I work alone."

"Nnnnnnnnnnhhhhhh!!!!!" Brenda curled her fists into balls and screwed her eyes shut in exasperation as Jax turned away from her towards Jimbo’s body. He had taken a few steps in that direction when she reached out for him one last time, catching him by the left arm. "D*mn it, Kismet!" she cried, "Why won’t you just stop for a minute and list………"

"Ssshhhhhhhh……..!!!!" He inhaled sharply and, even in the darkness, Brenda saw his eyes narrow in pain. When she pulled her hand away from his arm, she gasped aloud at the sight of blood on her fingers.

"Kismet!!" It was Brenda’s turn to gently reach out for him as he lowered his left arm, grasping it tightly with his right hand. "You’re bleeding!!" Her eyes widened in shock. "I remember now!! Sorel…….he shot you!! Just before I fell!"

"It’s not……." Jax drew a long breath between clenched teeth. He gingerly pushed the torn fabric of his silk shirt aside to reveal a long, bloody gash on his upper arm. "The bullet just grazed me, that’s all." Brenda refused to be pushed away this time and clung to his arm, looking around desperately for something – anything – to stop the steady trickle of blood. "I’ll be alright…….."

The blood flow seemed to increase exponentially when Jax removed his cupped hand from the wound. Brenda was even more upset when it ran down onto her fingers. "You *won’t* be alright!" she argued. "Not if you don’t go to a hospital!"

"I *can’t* go to a hospital." Jax rebuked her. "You should know that better than anyone else."

"Well, you can’t…….you can’t just *leave* it like that!" She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, then leaned down to jerk her pale peach blouse from the waistband of her skirt. She nipped furiously at the hem of it with her teeth, then nodded in satisfaction when gave way and she was able to tear off a small section. Jax tried to pull away but Brenda refused to be swayed. "Here." She pressed the piece of slippery silk to the wound, reacting more to his pain than he did. "This might help stop the bleeding until you can get…….." Her eyes flickered up when he shook his head firmly again. "Kismet, you *have* to get somebody to look at this!" She took the cloth away and grimaced at the sight of the torn flesh. "You need……."

"I don’t need *anything*, Brenda!" Jax murmured hotly. The stagnant air in the hot, humid room seemed to intensify with longing. "All I need…….." He raised his right hand to gently stroke her hair. "……is you."

Her breath caught at the fire in his eyes. "But I…….." She swallowed hard and then closed her eyes to almost purr in pleasure when Jax trailed his fingers down the sensitive side of her neck. Brenda reveled in his touch for a moment before shaking her head again and opening her eyes to stare intently at his wound. "……..I don’t know what to do for you."

"I’m not talking about this little nick on the arm, Brenda," Jax argued. He pulled her flush against his body, standing toe to toe with her in the darkened room. Occasional glare from the neon signs across the street alternated with flashes of heat-inspired lightning outside, adding to the emotion-charged atmosphere. Ignoring the pain, he ran his hands up and down her arms until they settled on her shoulders. "I need YOU, Brenda." He lowered his face to place a blazing kiss and then gently suckle the indentation where her throat met her chest.

Jax felt her throat quiver with the moan that escaped Brenda’s lips. He couldn’t stop himself from bringing his hands down to cup the weight of her breasts. "I’ve been wanting you ever since that first night I saved you from that mugger in the alley, Brenda……." When he passed his thinly-gloved thumbs back and forth across the outer swell of her breasts, she thought she might pass out again, just from the exquisite heat that flooded her body. Her nipples immediately hardened at the mere possibility of his touch. Brenda swayed slightly and her eyelids fluttered closed, her arms falling limp at her sides. "YOU are my destiny – MY kismet," Jax whispered huskily. "We were meant to be together……."

Another time – another lilting, hypnotic voice filtered into Brenda’s brain. Another place -- the back of a darkened limousine with the rain pattering on the roof.

When Brenda opened her eyes, she could have sworn she saw sparkling cornflower blue eyes and golden blonde hair. Her head spun, not entirely due to the concussion she had suffered that night. Images of a dark, mysterious, phantom lover intertwined hopelessly with a fair, Adonis-like child of the sun and the light.

"Kismet……. no…..wait…….." She managed to squeak out his name as he undid the top button of her blouse and moved his lips closer to tender game. "I………I can’t………."

Jax was almost beyond the point of caring whether they were in a filthy tenement. But when he trailed a most path across the top of her breast with his tongue and he heard her softly groan a name – the name of his real life alter-ego – he stopped abruptly.

"I………I……." Brenda’s eyes shot open in mortified shock. Had she really said Jax’s name when Kismet was trying to make love to her? "I’m sorry……….." She pulled away from her dark rescuer but then had to reach for him again when the room started to tilt at crazy angles.

"You don’t have to be sorry." Before she could register a complaint, Jax swept her up into his arms and cradled her against his chest. "It was thoughtless and selfish of me to push you like that, particularly after what you’ve gone through tonight……."

"Kismet……..WAIT!!" Brenda squirmed in his arms as Jax started to walk towards the door to the hallway. "You can’t carry me …….. YOUR ARM!!"

He strode purposefully through the door into the hallway. "……is functioning just fine again now, Brenda," Jax replied smoothly. "Thanks, I’m sure, to your excellent nursing skills."

"I can walk………" Another round of nausea and dizziness seized her when Jax seemed to almost fly down the stairs. She buried her head against his chest, thankful for the steady beat of his heart. "I’ll be OK……..really," she objected again weakly.

"I’m sure you will." Jax barely touched the landing on the second floor before heading down the steps again towards the first. "As soon as you go to General Hospital to let a doctor take a look at that lump on your head."

"No…….." Brenda shook her head, her hair brushing Jax’s lips as she did. "No doctors. I don’t like shots."

"You probably won’t need a shot," Jax chuckled. "Just an x-ray to make sure you didn’t fracture your skull." Just as Brenda lifted her head to protest again, she heard several surprised shouts coming from the lobby of the Mission.

"Look, Benny!!!" A crowd of about five homeless men had gathered at the foot of the stairs, their jaws slack with wonder. The speaker was clapping his shabbily-clad companion on the shoulder as he pointed at Jax. "It’s that hero dude – that’s Kismet!!"

"Yo, Kismet!!! Can I have your autograph?"

Jax stepped off the last step and strode briskly towards the reception desk to a polite smattering of applause. The redheaded matron who had been so rude to Brenda was no less impressed than Deacon Larry’s reluctant flock. "Young lady," Jax crooned politely to her, "could you please call a cab for my friend here?"

"Uh…….sure……..yeah, sure!!" The matron dropped the phone twice before she managed to put it to her ear and punch in the numbers for a local cab company. When a neatly dressed man in a white clerical collar came up behind Jax, he turned to him and slipped Brenda into his arms.

"You must be Deacon Larry," Jax smiled. He noticed the crowd around them building and started to back his way towards the stairs again. "Would you please put my friend in the cab and see that she goes to General Hospital for a checkup?"

"But what…….."

"I’ll make sure the folks at GH know what to do." Jax bounced up the stairs and gave the awestruck throng a theatrical wave. "Appreciate the help."

"Kismet……."

Jax stopped just as he was about to call on his "gift" and disappear into the darkness. He turned back to see Brenda reaching up towards him. "Brenda……."

She smiled beatifically. "Thank you……..for everything."

"For you ……." As he seemed to dissolve into the haze of the night, Brenda heard his hoarse whisper in her ear and felt the brush of his lips on her neck. "……..anything."

*#*#*#*#*

"Soooo………" Thomas poured his employer’s morning coffee with a straight face and his usual aplomb. "You want Casper the Friendly Ghost or Scoobydoo?"

Jax choked on the croissant he was chewing, reaching for a sip of coffee before looking up at his friend. "Excuse me?"

"I used the last of the bandaids on your arm last night, boss," Thomas explained as he set the coffee pot back on the buffet. "And since I’m going marketing today, I thought I’d just ask if you wanted the Casper ones or the Scoobydoo……"

"Very funny." Jax picked up the newspaper that lay next to his silverware with a grimace. "You got *entirely* too much of a charge out of bossing me around last night, playing nursemaid!" He rotated his shoulder and gently prodded his upper left arm. "I *told* you it was just a scratch!"

Thomas’s lower lip came out in a pout. "Maybe I got such a "big charge" out of it because I don’t get to do it very often!"

"And you won’t have to do it *again* anytime soon." Jax arched a golden eyebrow at Thomas to strengthen his point. "I had a little slip in concentration last night, but it won’t happen again."

"And would that little slip have anything to do with saving Miss Barrett’s life? Again?" Thomas asked with a sly smile.

Jax frowned. "How did you know she was there?"

"Apparently superheroes don’t show up for too many of Deacon Larry’s meetings." Thomas took the newspaper from Jax and folded it to the front page, pointing to the headline. "He had *quite* a story to tell to the reporters."

Jax quickly scanned the article about his rescue of Brenda. "It says the docs at GH checked her out and she didn’t suffer a concussion." He exhaled softly. "That’s good."

Thomas dropped into a chair next to Jax, leaning back and crossing his legs, his cupped hands cradling his head. "Sooooo…….how long you two gonna keep drivin’ each other nuts before you tell her the truth?"

"The truth?

"Don’t play dumb with me, boss," Thomas scolded. "The truth about you bein’ Kismet and him bein’ you."

"I can’t tell her the truth yet, Thomas." Jax rubbed the bridge of his nose with pinched fingers. "Not until I put Sorel behind bars and get her out of danger."

"You think that’s gonna make the news any easier for her to swallow? That she’s in love with two guys who are really the *same* guy, like some kinda soap opera story about a good twin and a bad twin?"

"No." Jax sighed loudly. He slumped back in his chair, his fingertips to his lips. "But until Sorel’s out of commission, she won’t get it through that stubborn skull of hers that it’s MY job to take care of him and not hers." Then, suddenly, he sat up straighter, his eyes bright. "Unless……."

Thomas leaned forward. "Unless?"

"There just *might* be a way to keep Miss Barrett out of situations where Kismet has to save her life." Jax chewed on his lower lip and cocked his head to the side. "Of course, the down side is – she’ll probably never speak to me again."

To be continued……….