To the Wolves
by lsquared

Note: This was written on April 15, 2007 before James Craig was revealed to be Jerry Jacks.

The distance between Wyndemere’s front gate and the main entrance appears less daunting to Alexis than usual. For the first time in a long while she feels stronger. Her muscles don’t ache after the first few steps, her bones feel less brittle, and she doesn’t have to stop and catch her breath halfway to the door. She won’t require any rescuing during this visit. There will be no need for Nikolas’ dashing business partner to hold her by the hips or the arms to keep her from crumpling under the weight of her disease.

Alexis stops outside the door, shuffling the papers she brought for Nikolas to put on file. They are not urgent, not even necessary for him to have. If he wonders why she’d go through the trouble, Alexis has rehearsed a response about how the papers were an excuse to check on him. That will be mostly true; she does have a sense something is troubling Nikolas, but Alexis can’t deny that while she is grateful to feel healthy and able to stand on her own, part of her wouldn’t mind requiring a little assistance from Mr. Brosnan.

The man has a way of invading her personal space that is both a violation and a thrill. At the memory of his warm hand on her back, Alexis absently strokes the expanse of bare skin where her blouse opens across her chest. She catches her reflection in the window and squares her shoulders. Composed, Alexis lets herself in the foyer but lingers outside the heavy, imposing double doors; booming voices keep her from advancing any further.

She recognizes Patrick Drake’s voice as he spars with her nephew. Alexis intends to intervene when the mention of her own name stops her.

“You don’t think I want to warn Alexis?” Nikolas shouts from the other room, his tone angry and shameful.

Alexis leans against the door to get a better listen. It’s hard to catch every word, but Patrick seems to be pointing out that the last thing Alexis needs while she’s fighting cancer is a dangerous, obsessive suitor. She hears him say, “You’re letting her think he’s a charming, worldly businessman and that it’s perfectly safe for him to be around her children. She has no idea he’s responsible for the hostage crisis at the Metro Court.”

The snatches of heated conversation that follow are a weak hum to Alexis. Five minutes ago she was beaming over easy breaths and effortless walks from the launch, but the revelation that her rescuer is the mastermind behind the hostage crisis drains all the air from her fragile lungs. Her knees buckle and she has to prop herself against the door not to lose her footing.

“I don’t want to throw my aunt to the wolves. I don’t want her or my cousins anywhere near that man,” Nikolas’ voice is clear to Alexis, and she forces herself to focus and catch every word. “But right now, the only thing keeping Craig from killing me, you, Robin, Emily, my son and anyone else in his way is my aunt. Alexis is a distraction to him, and unfortunately that buys us time to figure out the counteragent and get him out of our lives. I want to tell her but if I do, she’ll want nothing to do with him. She’ll want to help me and I can’t risk her becoming another enemy for Craig to eliminate.”

None of what Nikolas says makes any sense to Alexis – talk of counteragents, drugs, secret identities. She is dizzy at the prospect of trying to sort it out. She reaches for the door knob, intent on confronting her nephew.

“Looking for me?”

James’ usually refined, soothing voice is suddenly startling and ominous to her ears. Alexis turns around and shakes her head. She shows him the papers in her hand and says, “Of course not. Nikolas. I have papers for Nikolas.”

“Shall I find him for you? I know he must be nearby.”

Alexis has mere seconds to digest the information she overheard and assess the kind of threat James poses to her and her daughters. She stands perfectly still, her eyes locked on his face. There was always something about his penetrating eyes and the way his fingers had first locked around her arm. Until now, Alexis defined it as arrogance, and as much as she hated to admit, a kind of dominating sensuality. She is torn between wanting to prosecute him - for his deceit, for whatever he’s doing to her nephew, his crimes against most of Port Charles, being in close proximity to her daughter, and most of all, for ever making her imagine how it would feel to tangle her fingers in his tousled hair and press her mouth to his - and wanting to befriend him for Nikolas’ sake. Either option seems like playing with fire.

“No, don’t,” she answers, finally, when James moves toward her and the door. “He’s busy. I’m just going to leave these.” She sets the papers on the table.

“Perhaps we should interrupt?” James suggests. “It sounds like Nikolas is on the losing end of some kind of argument.”

Alexis impulsively grabs James’ wrist. The jolt she always felt whenever he’d touch her is still there, still sends a tremor down her spine. It enrages Alexis that it still feels good, too. “He can handle himself,” she says. “I’m actually glad he’s unavailable right now. I woke up feeling better than I have in months and I’d rather not waste this kind of day on business.” She swallows back the bitter taste on her tongue. “Walk with me?”

A smile twitches on James’ lips. He regards Alexis with wary interest and then offers her his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”

Alexis hooks her arm around his. She purposefully leans into the side of his body. She lets him lead her outside, onto the path that winds around to the gardens, and does her best not to flinch or stiffen each time his arm brushes the side of her breast. And when James stops to pluck a bright yellow wildflower sprouting alone in a mostly dead patch of grass and the petals tickle her nose, Alexis scolds herself for finding its aroma to be so sweet and stirring.

part 2