A Strange Little Town

Tracy couldn’t help worrying, even though she realized she was wearing a hole in the Persian rug- Monica’s rug! As if Monica needed yet another excuse to remind her whose house she was in. But it had been days since Tracy had gotten Luke’s package- a single bottle of the same Tequila which had played part in their first “marriage.” There was also a tag that had been scribbled on, in Luke’s hand; it read, “With two of my favorite ladies in one room, not even death could keep me away.”

But that had been three days ago, and Tracy hadn’t heard anything since- not a peep. She worried that Helena had finally bested Luke. The old witch had left behind a DVD, a sliver of hope, knowing that Luke would run off in search of a cure; one that Tracy was beginning to suspect didn’t exist. Maybe that had been Helena’s cruelest plot of all, sending Luke away and making sure that he wouldn’t get to say goodbye.

“Oh Luke,” she sighed, clutching the bottle to her chest only to find that it was a poor substitute.

“Oh, Spanky,” the voice came from over her shoulder; it was weak and raspy, but Tracy could still hear that bit of laughter there, that mischief. She spun around and there he was.

“Luke!” She hadn’t meant to, but she dropped the bottle. It crashed at her feet, soaking the rug. She hesitated, only for a moment, before rushing into Luke’s arms. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again!” she admitted, wrapping her arms about his neck, enjoying the solid feeling of his frame- he was real.

“Like I’d let a little polonium poisoning keep me from- “he peeked over her shoulder, at the wet spot and shards of glass scattered over the Persian pattern of the rug, “from my Tequila.” Tracy stepped back, half-heartedly pushed Luke away, and was preparing to offer a snarky retort, when she got a good look at him. It was as if someone had snatched every word from her, and she could only stare at him in barely repressed shock: Luke’s cheeks were gaunt, his skin a slight sickly yellow; the lines in his face had deepened, and he’d lost a bit of that mischievous gleam from his eyes- they were glossy and distant now. He’d become so thin! Even standing there, Luke seemed in danger of toppling over.

Tracy swallowed the sob that was growing in her chest and straightened her spine. She reached out for his hand, then half pulled-half guided him over the spilled Tequila and glass, until they’d reached the couch, and they sat down together. When she was certain that she had buried the sob down as far as it would go and that her voice would not shake, she took Luke’s hand in her lap and asked, “What happened?”

It was clear that the question exhausted him; clearer that he had no clue where to start. His eyes darted from side to side as he reviewed the whole sordid tale in his head, and he stayed there for a moment before a single detail escaped his lips. The most important part, he’d decided, was that he had found Jerry; He’d spent a week swatting mosquitoes and avoiding malaria in a Brazilian rain forest, based on a tip from an old contact; as per this source, Jerry might have been holed up in a shack somewhere in Rio.

“The place with the colorful birds? Why would Jerry go there?” Tracy asked.

“That’s just the animation, sweetheart. The real Rio is like a labyrinth of stone shacks.” Luke explained, “Finding someone there is like looking for a needle in a large pile of needles.”

Tracy shrugged and Luke continued on: He’d found Jerry on a muggy Wednesday afternoon, in a shack that doubled as a bar.

“Did he have the cure? Did he give it to you?” Tracy asked, her face full of hope.

It made Luke sigh- if he was gonna go, he was going to miss Tracy the most, and the way she always got straight to the point.

“No,” he said, gingerly. But it was clear it was still a blow to Tracy. Luke was one of few who could see pass her manufactured steeliness and he could see that he hadn’t given Tracy the answer she'd wanted. “But I didn’t come home empty-handed.”

Right on cue, Tracy heard the sounds of movement out in the foyer; she looked to Luke, but his face gave nothing away. Tracy got to her feet with a surprising stealth and rushed pass the double doors.

Luke’s companion looked almost as worn down as Luke himself; he’d grown an impressive beard and had clearly skipped more than a few haircuts- but even hidden behind tufts of dirty blonde, Tracy recognized his face; after his most recent plot, involving the town’s water supply, Tracy was sure she would never forget that face again. His eyes were the same dazzling blue that stood out on the “wanted” posters displayed in the PCPD- cool and hard as stone. His lips, what she could make out beneath the beard, still had that natural upturn, so that he always appeared smiling- in on a joke no one else was aware of. That same curve remained, Tracy remembered, even as he carried out the most fatal acts.

Behind the thick mass of facial hair, dirt, and grime of a few days, he was still handsome- dangerously so. No, his was not a face one could easily forget, not that Tracy ever could.

The weary-looking man stared back at her, in a way that told Tracy he did not feel the same about her. Although his face was exactly the same, his eyes had lost a bit of their stony edge. They jumped all about the foyer, darting between antique décor and the stony-faced portraits of Quartermaine ancestors, mounted in thick brass frames, throughout the entryway; he seemed almost desperate to recognize something, anything! He looked at a loss, on the verge of saying something, as if he were struggling to recall her name.

Tracy leaned against the wide oak door frame, to support herself through the sinking feeling in her stomach. She jumped when she realized Luke had walked up behind her. He did his best to hold her steady, though he was unsteady himself.

“You think this is better than being empty-handed?” Tracy barked, motioning to the disheveled creature standing in front of them.

“Tracy, I believe you know Mr. Jacks.” Luke said, sarcastically. “Jerry, I doubt you remember Tracy.”

Tracy felt a scream building her chest, she was shaking.

“You brought him here?” She pointed an accusing finger at Jerry, and to his credit, he actually looked afraid. “He’s the reason Joe is dead! He got him mixed up in that whole pathogen mess!” Tracy bellowed.

“Well, to be fair, Junior wasn’t exactly a boy scout before he joined in with Jerry,” Luke offered. Tracy rolled her eyes. She stormed back into the living room and Luke and Jerry followed. Tracy snatched at the land line and struggled to dial. She was angry enough that her whole body shook.

“Tracy, what do you think you’re doing?” Luke asked, calm as a cucumber.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m calling Anna Devane! That way, she can finally put this maniac behind bars!” As unbalanced and exhausted as he seemed, Luke moved across the room with all the energy of his old self. He held Tracy, hugging her and restricting her all at the same time and took the phone from her hands.

“Sorry Spanky, I can’t let you do that.”

Felix was at the nurse’s station, trying to read Dr. Marucchi’s handwriting, when he spotted Sabrina; Her hair fell in curls that he’d shown her how to do and she’d applied her Coe Coe precious pink lipstick just right. But she had a glow that no Coe Coe cosmetics could take credit for, and she was practically skipping. To top it all off, she was smiling hard enough to crack a tooth!

“Mmm hmm,” Felix said when she was close enough to hear. “That right there says it all.”

Sabrina climbed up behind the nurse’s station. The lipstick complemented her pink scrubs and she had accessorized with diamond studs and a white gold tennis bracelet. Felix couldn’t be prouder; she’d really come along since he’d worked his magic.

“What?” She asked, innocently. Felix slid Dr. Marucchi’s charts aside and gave her his full attention...and all his wisdom, of course.

“There are only two things in this world that make a person smile like that...and Magic Milo didn’t perform this weekend.” He slid in closer to avoid eavesdroppers. “So, how is ’Dr. Please and Thank you, Can I Have Some More?” He asked.

Sabrina turned bright red.

“Felix!” She grabbed one of the charts and tried to hide her face. But she was still smiling, of course; she couldn’t stop.

Felix reached up and lowered the chart so that they were eye to eye.

“That good, huh?” He smiled, devilishly. Sabrina swatted him with the chart and they both laughed. “I’m convinced that at this moment you’d glow in the dark. Dr. Dreamboat is definitely doing something right,” he added. Sabrina closed her eyes, as if she were picturing Patrick and sighed happily.

“We spent the whole weekend together.” She finally admitted. “We went to the park, and we had a picnic. Emma helped me make the sandwiches.” She was beaming now, and Felix was sure that sandwich making hadn’t done that. But he stood quietly while Sabrina described her perfect weekend. “Oh, and then we took Emma to feed the ducks.”

“And then?” Felix asked when it seemed like she wasn’t going to say anything more. He didn’t think it could happen, but her face turned a deeper shade of red and she bit into her bottom lip. She left teeth marks in her precious pink lip gloss.

“Anna and Duke came to take Emma for ice cream on Sunday, and...” She hesitated. Felix understood she was working up the courage to say something...something dirty! He couldn’t be happier for her, but he knew Sabrina’s head might explode with the effort, so he decided to help her out.

“You two fed more than the ducks?” Felix offered and Sabrina giggled. She gave a shy little nod and Felix could practically feel the happiness rolling off her. “Oh god, what I’d do to smile like that. It’s been way too long since I...fed the ducks,” he sighed. He allowed a moment for self-pity; at this point, he was starting to worry that he’d start looking forward to Brad’s sketchy come-ons. He needed to get back on the wagon, preferably one with a gorgeous smile and great sense of humor. But it wasn’t all that easy anymore, he was still sort of hung up on Milo. Sometimes he couldn’t even help picturing Magic Milo doing one-handed push-ups; or pull-ups, with sweat glistening on his chest, dripping down each ripple in his abdomen, all the way down to-

Sabrina whacked him again, still laughing and pulling him right out of his own thoughts- his dirty, dirty thoughts.

“Stop making that dirty,” she giggled. Felix jumped and nervously smoothed his scrubs. He started to laugh at himself. He remembered a time when Sabrina resembled an aspiring nun and admitting impure thoughts to her felt like a very awkward confession. The whole thing made him feel silly and he laughed harder.

He was laughing so hard; he’d hardly noticed that Sabrina suddenly looked as if she were choking on her happiness. She bit down on her lip again, holding in the laughter and started to look panicked. Felix didn’t understand what had happened, until he heard Epiphany’s voice from behind him.