Special note to readers: The character, Zandor, is not Zander of GH, 2001. The Zandor of this tale would ideally be cast using Roger Howarth. (Todd Manning, OLTL)

Paris, France...

Jason stood in front of Robin's front door, his hand held out as if to knock, then paused. Would she turn him away, the way he'd turned her away on the bridge? She'd foreseen everything that would happen, but even she didn't know the whole truth, unless the news from Port Charles had preceded him. She had neither called him in the hospital, nor had she come to visit. Maybe she hadn't known he'd been shot?

His knuckles struck the door softly, then decisively. Again. Once more. Then, the door opened, revealing the face he'd loved for so long. "Robin?"

"Jason. What are you doing here?" Robin stood in the doorway, unwilling to let him enter. "What happened? Carly throw you out?"

"Robin, can we talk?"

"No, Jason. We can't. Not now. Maybe not ever. You made it very clear that last night on the bridge that you never wanted to see me again, and though it took a while, I've gotten used to the idea. In fact, there is something very nice about not having a mobster for a boyfriend anymore. I'd forgotten how it felt to be on the right side of the law."

"Robin, please." Jason's tone was urgent, but Robin was adamant.

"Is Mickie all right?"

"Yes, but"

"No buts. As long as Mickie is all right, you're all right. You made that clear to me."

"But he's not with me anymore."

"That's too bad. Did Carly take him to AJ?"

"Yeah, but he's not AJ's."

That gave Robin pause, but she still didn't allow him entrance. "If he's not AJ's, and we know he isn't yours...He's Tony's?"

Jason nodded his head. "Look, Robin, I've been a jerk. I know that now."

"You've been more than a jerk, Jason," Robin agreed. "And I know that now, too. You knew all along that Mickie was Tony's and you lied to all of us?" As Jason nodded, Robin continued to reason. "And since you had to have inside help, that means that Bobbie knew, too. And you hurt Tony's hand, ruined his career as a surgeon, a neurosurgeon, no less, kidnapped his son, nearly got him killed by that wacko Carly...and now that the truth is out, you've come back to me hoping, what are you hoping?" She caught the pained expression in his eyes. "Let me guess. You lied to Sonny, too, didn't you? And Sonny, being the understanding, law abiding guy that he is, he threw you out, right?"

"Robin, please let me come in. Let me explain it all to you."

"No, thanks, Jason. I've got my life back in order now, and while I'm sympathetic to your problems, you bought and paid for them yourself. You lied to me, to everybody else. Now, live with it."

"Robin," Jason said, pushing the door as if to gain entry.

"Robin," came a deep, masculine voice from within the apartment. "Is that guy bothering you?"

"It's okay, Zandor. He's just leaving."

"Who's that?" Jason demanded. "You didn't waste any time, did you?"

"Robin," Zandor began, pulling the door open. A tall, dark-haired man looked down at Jason. He shook his head. "Mr. Morgan, or whatever you call yourself, Robin and I are busy. Now, if you don't mind...."

"Just a minute, Robin," Jason began, but the taller man moved to stand between him and Robin.

"Robin is busy. With me." With that, Zandor closed the door, leaving Jason standing alone once again.

"Don't worry about him," Zandor counseled as he pulled Robin away from the door. "He's going to be okay. You have to let him sort this out alone."

"But he's..."

"He's capable of surviving on his own, while there are a couple of people who are in dire need of our assistance right now." He turned back to the computer where he waited patiently for some information to be retrieved. "Got it."

"Where are they?"

"Somewhere in North Africa." He picked up a phone and punched in some numbers.

Alexis watched as Jax fought to keep the plane level, her heart beating wildly in terror. Suddenly, she screamed, as the glass exploded...

"Alexis!! Wake up!"

Shaking the nightmare from her mind, Alexis opened her eyes to see nothing but darkness. "Jax?"

"Right here, Alexis. Look, I know that surviving plane crashes isn't high on your list of fun things to do, but may I remind you, not surviving one would limit your choices even more."

"Right," she muttered, disgusted with herself. "How long has it been since we began making like the Flintstones?"

"And here I'd expected you to approve my choice in cave dwellings." Jax laughed softly. "We've been here a little more than six hours. About time for me to turn this on again."

"What?"

"The signaling device that I always carry with me when I'm off to parts unknown. I've already signaled once."

"Why didn't you turn it on in the first place? Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"First off, there's no point turning it on unless Jerry has had time to learn that we're missing. The batteries are only good for so long. Then, there's always the chance that someone less than friendly..."

"Like the ones who sabotaged the plane?"

"Yeah, like the ones who sabotaged the plane might intercept our signal. See, the plan is simple. We wait for a few hours, then signal every hour between fifteen and twenty minutes after the hour on one frequency, then between twenty and fifteen before the hour on another frequency. Saves power and makes you harder for the wrong people to spot. Plus, that way, it doesn't matter what time zone you're in. Jerry knows what frequency to tune in on, and so, barring complications..."

"With you, there are bound to be complications..."

"Have faith, Alexis. Jerry has always come through in the past."

"In the past....."

Felicia opened the locket again, this time in the privacy of her own home. Mac had fallen asleep earlier, but Felicia had been unable to sleep, and the secrets of the locket seemed to be calling her name. She climbed out of her bed, pulling on a robe, and headed down to the spare bedroom where Reginald had deposited the trunk. She opened the door, switched on the light, and then closed the door behind herself. Taking a seat on the floor beside the trunk, she again turned her attention to the locket.

Marveling at the intricacy of its design, she ran a slender finger over the engraving, noting for the first time that the pattern seemed to be of hearts entwined with flowers. This time, she opened it, and looked at the picture of the couple in the old photo. The woman didn't look as much like Felicia as she'd originally thought, but the man, the man was even more interesting now that she took time to study his face. There was something very familiar about him, from the devilish look in his eyes to the deep dimple in his chin. He appeared to be several years younger than the woman, but it seemed equally certain that they were involved. There was more than the casual hint of intimacy in the picture- that was evident. Looking closer, Felicia saw more, perhaps a shadow of sadness on the woman's face? Or, was it simply an overactive imagination coming from hearing about Lila's past? And, who was the child in the picture? Boy or girl? Their child? Probably.

"So, Lila," Felicia whispered, "why did you really give me this locket and what is it that you were trying to warn me about? Why would anybody take my children, and what was the legacy? What will did you mean?"

It was dark, moonless, the sort of night when people who prefer their deeds to go unnoticed feel most at ease. One who found the darkness a shield stood just out of the street lamplight and watched as the lights in the small apartment over the bike shop went out. Though there were no sounds to be heard coming from that room, she knew that her orders were being carried out, that the body on the bed would be burned completely, turned to ash in a matter of hours. There were those who would raise the possibility of spontaneous combustion, and those who would vow arson. There would be horrified fears of accidents, too, what with the volatile liquids that would be found in any motorcycle repair shop.

But, it would be done, and done completely. There was too much at stake here not to make use of this move. This particular pawn had to be removed from the playing board, and removed at once.

"It's done," came harsh whisper from a few feet away.

"Excellent."

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