Chapter Thirty-Seven

"All clear now," Felicia yells down to Kevin who is lounging around down in the basement. Life has improved considerably since Felicia had decided that he wasn't an ax murderer or worse. In fact, aside from being unable to clear his name at present, and being apart from Lucy, Kevin could count himself a reasonably content man.

"Three square meals a day, home cooked, no less, regular use of the facilities-sorry, TC, but a litter box just doesn't cut it for me-and all the cable tv I can stand-what more could a guy want? In fact, now that I've been watching talk tv, I've learned that life could be so much less pleasant. I haven't been abducted by aliens-well, I did have the family from hell, but I'm dealing with that-and oh, hi, Felicia. Is Tom gone?"

"Yes," she answers. "Breakfast is almost ready. You have time for a quick shower."

Kevin stands, yawns and stretches. "One of these days, you are going to have to tell that sneaky lowlife to get lost."

"I'm working on that," she tells him. "In fact, I'm thinking of calling Mac and telling him what I just found out."

"And what is that?"

"I just got a call from my friend at the lab. I asked him to have the kiwi-lime juice analyzed."

At that, Kevin pauses. "The stuff Tom gave you?"

"Yes," she says. "I realized that I felt better when I wasn't drinking it, and that life looked much better to me. So, I took it to a friend at the University who used the lab after hours."


"And I learned that Tom, that sneaky, lowlife, pondscum eating SOB has been slipping me a drink that's laced with some exotic chemical that induces, among other things, a sort of suggestible paranoia." She grimaces. "I've been drinking that stuff for some time now-come to think of it, I had two bottles of it the day you took me to Jasmine Island."

Kevin scratches his head, hoping that he doesn't have fleas, and says, "You know, just before I started weirding out in earnest, Tom got me hooked on strawberry-banana juice. I vaguely recall downing a couple bottles of it that day, too." He picks up one of the offending kiwi-lime juice containers, adding, "And it's made by this same company."

Kevin and Felicia exchange intrigued glances. "Hmmmmmmmmmm!"

"We aren't all going to Port Charles together," Frisco explains as Luke and Lucy stand ready to leave Monte Carlo. "You guys are heading out soon-but you've got to be careful about telling anybody who might talk about your psychic flashes." He holds up one hand. "Lucy, I've been around long enough to realize that some people have what amounts to a sixth sense. Trouble is, if the wrong people believe that you have this, they'll either want to use you, or destroy you before you expose them."

"Cover story time," Luke tells her. "You were so distracted by losing Kevin that you decided to do what women have done since they were created."

"Not without Kevin," she tells him.

"I know that! I meant, you went shopping."

"How sexist."

"Works for me," Luke grins. "And then you went gambling where you met Jean-Pierre who fell passionately in love with you."

"At your service, cherie," Jean-Pierre says.

Luke continues. "And he was hot for, that is, he ardently pursued you to the point of what, in the good old US of A would now be considered sexual harassment, making the most outrageous statements about your eyes, your uh, various assets, both physical and mental. We chanced to run into each other here-I was in Monte Carlo trying to track down some information on the Cassadines-no sense lying about that-nobody would believe me, anyhow, given how dedicated to that cause I'm known to be. And then, son of a gun, we ran into Frisco who was taking a couple of days off, and the three of us went sightseeing, trying to ditch the Frenchman. Then, we headed back home. Frisco comes later, to see Felicia and the kiddies, and the Frenchman, who has by then gotten your address, follows. Jean-Pierre is backup for Frisco. That way, when we all meet up in Port Charles, we all have reasons to be there."

"But," Lucy asks, "What about...the others?"

"Too soon to tell," says Dr. Gillian St. Claire, a lovely strawberry blonde woman in her early thirties. "All their vital signs are still unstabilized, but they are showing signs of improvement. And, you will be interested to know that our team has very discreetly combed the castle and turned up some very interesting things."

"Such as?"

"An extremely high tech lab in which genetic/cryogenic research appeared to have been going on. By the way, our group found that you narrowly escaped detection. Seems a suit of armor was equipped with a camera, but fortunately for us, no immediate feed to another location. We found a few more cameras, and then staged a little scene for whoever comes back to the castle," Frisco explains. "We blurred the focus of the camera monitoring the coffins and had a couple of agents stage a resurrection. This should really mess with the minds of whoever was running this nasty little lab."

"I can tell you who's behind it," Luke said. "The Cassadines." Hmmmmm

"It's all right," Dr. Gail Baldwin says to Tom Hardy who is still livid that he's unable to practice at the moment. "I'm sure that this will all be cleared up soon."

"It can't be soon enough," he gripes. "I'm supposed to be treating Laura Spencer, but I can't."

"I know that," Gail soothes. "But, you'll be glad to know that she's no longer in restraints. Scotty has been with her, and that seems to have a reassuring effect on her."

"Scotty Baldwin? Your step-son? My cousin?"

"None other."

Unable to object to that, he finally shrugs. "What can I say?"

"Nothing," Gail tells him. "Now, just be patient. I'm sure that everything will work out."

"It had better," Tom mutters as he stalks away. Just out of earshot, he says, "Or there'll be hell to pay." Hmmmmmmm

Stay tuned!! Have Felicia and Kevin begun to add this all up together? Have they finally identified the Mind Altering Formula? And, is Port Charles ready for the intrepid team of Luke, Lucy, Frisco and Jean-Pierre? To what particular form of hell was Tom referring? Hmmmmmmmmm