Jax sighed wearily as he once again settled into the seat of his private jet and buckled his seatbelt. He had had high hopes as he'd begun his chase of Brenda and Cordoba to Rio just seventy-two hours before, but his hopes had slowly dissolved as he'd hit one dead end after another once he'd hit the city itself. At least now he knew that he was back on track, despite the fact that he was once again chasing them through the sky. This time their destination was a small, private island in the Bahamas, where Cordoba kept his base of operations. Jax only hoped that once they landed that he'd have better luck getting close to Brenda than he had had in Rio.

Cordoba had kept Brenda secluded in Rio by staying at the home of a prominent and well-connected Brazilian businessman, whose massive estate was surrounded by a 6-foot high iron fence and crawling with armed guards carrying AK-47's, which Cordoba had undoubtedly supplied. And once inside the iron gates of the estate, Brenda and Cordoba never emerged again until they were ready to leave the country. But in the interim, a seemingly nonstop parade of limos with armed escorts made their way on and off the estate at all hours of the day and night.

Jax knew this because he'd spent the better part of the past few days watching the estate from a discreet distance through high-powered, night-vision binoculars. And the only thing he'd gotten for his trouble was a stiff neck, indigestion, and very little sleep. And what little sleep he had gotten had come at precisely the time that Brenda and Cordoba had finally left the estate, en route to the airport. But fortunately for him, Jax had paid a worker in maintenance at the airport to call him the moment there was any movement whatsoever around Cordoba's plane; otherwise, he'd probably still be sleeping in the bushes atop the hill opposite that armed estate.

Once he'd landed in Rio and learned where Cordoba had taken Brenda, Jax had hired a private investigator to help him with surveillance of the estate. But the man's English was limited and Jax's Portuguese was even more limited, so their communication had been difficult at best. And after the first eight frustrating hours of trying to use sign language with very little success, Jax had finally paid the man and waved goodbye to him. Ironically that seemed to be the only thing the man had understood the entire night, so Jax had wasted both his time and his money there.

Chuck Wittier, Jax's longtime pilot and friend, who had supplied Jax with what little food and break time he'd had while on his stakeout, had offered to help with the surveillance full-time, but Jax had refused, telling him that he needed him rested and ready to fly at a moment's notice. So Jax had gone it alone, despite the fact that he knew at the outset that it would be a grueling task for just one man to handle. And it had been. And now he felt like something not even a self-respecting cat would drag in. Death warmed over a couple of times - that's how Chuck had bluntly put it when Jax had boarded just a few minutes ago. And seeing his reflection now in the darkened window beside him, he had to agree with the man. He looked and felt like hell!

But despite his appearance and his extreme fatigue, he still felt an underlying excitement buoying his spirits. All of this was going to be worth it because he'd once again have Brenda at the end of this long, drawn-out, grueling chase. And he knew that he'd do all of this again in the blink of an eye, simply to have the chance to hold her in his arms again. In fact, he'd go to Hell and dance with the devil himself if it meant getting Brenda back. And, given what he'd heard about Armand Cordoba, he wondered if that wasn't exactly what he'd be doing?

To be fair, he only knew Armand Cordoba by reputation, which is why he'd called his father earlier, asking him to fax him everything he could find about Cordoba. That was several hours ago, and he was still awaiting that fax. Either there was very little out there on Cordoba or what there was was so deeply buried that it was taking time to gather the information. But Jax knew that reading about Cordoba wouldn't be nearly enough; he needed to speak to someone who'd had actual dealings with the man… Someone who knew Cordoba's temperament… Someone who knew both Cordoba's strengths and his weaknesses and had successfully exploited those weaknesses in the past… He needed his brother, Jerry.

Years before, both he and Jerry had dabbled briefly in the arms trade, and they had made small fortunes for themselves in it, but Jax had never felt comfortable with it. Jerry, on the other hand, had reveled in it, loving the easy money that could be quickly made there. He had once told Jax that they couldn't have made fortunes any faster if they'd printed their own money. And he'd been right there - It seemed that anyone with money and power was eager to spend a good portion of that money for weapons that would ensure that they remained in power. And those with little or no power but access to lots of money were even more eager to spend their money on weapons in order to establish a power base for themselves. And, as Jerry had pointed out back then, as long as there were those who had power, as well as those who craved it, then there would always be a ready customer base for that business.

Jax certainly hadn't complained about the money end of that brief fling as an arms dealer, but he hadn't cared for the danger that surrounded the business. But for Jerry the money had been merely the icing on the cake; for him the danger had been the real draw. Jerry had always loved living on the edge - working both sides of the law, mixing with nefarious characters - and they had certainly done plenty of both during their short time in the weapons trade. Jerry had insisted on handling most of the riskier transactions alone, and Jax had never argued with him; truthfully, he was actually glad not to be involved. He'd also never questioned his brother about any of those arrangements because he figured the less he knew, the better. But now he wished that he had asked for a full accounting of Jerry's private clients because one of those with whom Jerry had dealt personally and privately was Armand Cordoba.

Ever since he'd seen the picture of Brenda in the paper with the blurb about her being Armand Cordoba's "companion," Jax had been wracking his brain as to why the man's name seemed so familiar to him. It had finally occurred to him that Cordoba was, in fact, a name he'd once heard Jerry drop back in the days when they were trading in high-tech weapons. And if he remembered correctly, Jax was almost certain that Cordoba had been one of their last "contacts" before Jerry had finally agreed that it was time to move on to another area of enterprise that was less dangerous and more stable for them. At the time Jax had never questioned his brother's change of heart; he'd simply been glad to put that business venture behind them once and for all. But now he wondered if that encounter with Cordoba had actually precipitated Jerry's sudden decision to move onto another, less hazardous enterprise? And if that was the case, what exactly had happened between Jerry and Cordoba? If only he could find Jerry to ask him… But at this point that was more of an improbability than finding Brenda had been.

It had been nearly a year since Jerry had disappeared, and in that time Jax had heard nothing from him. He had no idea where Jerry was now or what he was doing. Of course, that had been the plan all along, and he'd set that very plan in motion himself. It was either that or see his only brother sent to federal prison for once again laundering money for the mob, and since he couldn't stand for that to happen - despite his brother's obvious guilt - he'd swallowed his ethical concerns and supplied Jerry with the money to run.

He'd also swallowed his pride when he'd gone to Sonny Corinthos, a Port Charles mobster and Brenda's ex-lover, to ask him to arrange Jerry's safe passage out of the States. He'd hated to do it, but he'd needed Corinthos's underground connections to get Jerry safely away. And Corinthos had hated to do it for him, but in the end he'd relented - but only in memory of Brenda and only for a price: a favor to be done by Jax for him at a later date. That stipulation had rankled Jax; he would have far preferred a straight cash deal with Corinthos to get it over and done with between them, but he had been desperate at the time and Corinthos knew that. Unfortunately for Corinthos, he'd never gotten around to asking that "favor" of Jax, and if Jax had his way, he never would. The way he saw it, Corinthos was the one who had owed him for all the damage he'd intentionally done to his relationship with Brenda. But in the end, Corinthos's machinations to separate Brenda and him hadn't succeeded, and now he was on his way to getting her back into his life once and for all.

But for that, he could still use Jerry's help… But he knew that was an impossibility because Jerry had gone deep underground, and no one would be able to find Jerry unless Jerry wanted to be found. That was the way that Jax had wanted it when he'd helped his brother flee the country. But at this moment and in this situation he wished his brother were no more than a phone call away, even if that phone call was to a federal prison. He needed him; not just because Jerry had dealt with Cordoba before, but because he could use Jerry's advice, as well as Jerry's never-ending encouragement. No one could get Jax fired up about something like Jerry could. Jerry seemed to know exactly the right things to say to motivate him and buoy his confidence on those things which he was hesitant or doubtful. It had been that way since they were kids, and Jax didn't think he'd needed one of Jerry's "pep talks" this much since they *had* been kids.

The shrill of the onboard fax brought him out of his momentary melancholy, and he quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and made his way back to see what his father had managed to dig up on Armand Cordoba. He was just gathering up the last of the pages when his cell phone rang. He recognized the number on the caller ID as his parents' home number. "Hi, Dad," he said, tucking the phone against his left ear and holding it there with his chin and his shoulder, as he continued to gather up the sheaf of papers that his father had just faxed him. "I'm just now getting that information you sent on Cordoba. I'm sure that whatever you found will be a help to me in getting Brenda away from him."

"It took some digging, but I was finally able to find a little on Cordoba," John Jacks explained. "- and on Veronica Devereaux, as well. There was birth information on her, as well as her deceased parents, who were both naturalized citizens, having moved from Montreal to the States just before their only daughter was born…" He paused, then added quietly, "Jax, are you sure that this woman with Cordoba *is* Brenda? I mean, there is a definite traceable record of this Devereaux woman actually existing -"

"It's Brenda!" Jax answered, upset that his father seemed to be doubting him on this. "I had people who swore that Veronica Devereaux was the same woman as the picture of Brenda, and they both had seen her several times… Besides, you and I both know that even the most official records can be faked and the most air-tight histories can be manufactured, all for the right price."

"True," his father replied, knowing exactly what Jax meant by that, and it saddened him, knowing that the one person that Jax really needed now was basically lost to all of them. But he still hated for Jax to tackle this by himself, so he voiced his concerns: "Jax, you can't do this alone, son… Cordoba is a dangerous man… I couldn't find much on the man, but what I did find told me that he is not one to willingly part with something that he feels is his - and if this woman *is* Brenda and he's passing her off as his fiancée, then he definitely sees her as *his*… He *will* fight you for her… He's very controlling, Jax, and little goes on around him that he doesn't know about… He may already know that you're aware that Brenda is alive and that he has her. Please be careful, son."

Jax listened quietly as his father voiced his concerns, waiting until he was finished to comment. "Dad, I promise that I'll be careful, but I can't very well hire a SWAT team to help me get her away from him."

"I'm not suggesting that, but having someone to watch your back wouldn't hurt!" his father replied.

"That would be great, " Jax answered wearily, as he made his way back to the front of the cabin and settled into his seat, "but there is only one man I'd feel comfortable doing that, and you and I both know that's not going to happen!" Laying the faxed papers on the table beside him, he shifted the phone to his other ear, listening as his father merely sighed in return. "Dad, I'm sorry," Jax apologized, "It's not your fault Jerry couldn't keep clean."

"No, but it's my fault he got involved in that sort of business in the first place," John Jacks answered quietly, knowing how Jax had been devastated when he'd learned, soon after Brenda's "death," that both John and Jerry had been laundering money for the mob for years. Jax had sacrificed his own reputation in order to keep him and Jerry out of prison then; this time he'd sacrificed his pride in order to keep his brother free.

There was a long silence between father and son before Jax finally answered: "Let's not re-open old wounds now, Dad. I have more important matters to deal with - like the best way to rescue Brenda from Cordoba."

John Jacks cleared his throat to speak once again, then hesitated, thinking that perhaps it would be better to say nothing rather than to upset Jax further. But Jax was well aware of his father's mannerisms and he knew that his father was holding back something that he desperately wanted to say. "What is it, Dad?" he finally asked, when it was apparent that his father wasn't going to speak up. "We both know that you have something more that you wanted to add…"

John Jacks gave a small laugh at that. "There's no fooling you, is there, son? Even thousands of miles away and over the phone, you can still read me like an old book…" He took a deep breath before continuing: "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, son, but as I was reading all of this information on Cordoba, a thought occurred to me…" He hesitated again, wondering if he really should broach this subject with Jax, given the short fuse he knew Jax was sporting due to overall fatigue and frustration?

However, that second slight hesitation on his father's part was enough to light that short fuse. "Dad, would you please just spit out whatever it is that you've got on your mind! I have a long night ahead of me, studying this information you sent me, and I'd really like to get to it!" Jax snapped, then, running his free hand through his already tousled hair, he sighed and quickly apologized again. "Dad, I'm sorry for that… It's just that I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm more than a little frustrated that Brenda keeps slipping away from me… But no matter the reason, I shouldn't be taking it out on you… I appreciate your help and also anything you have to say, so please just tell me what it is you have on your mind."

"Well, you may not appreciate this…" his father replied, once again hedging.

"Dad, please!" Jax answered, exasperated at his father's continued hesitation.

"Jax, has it occurred to you that Brenda isn't in need of rescuing - that she may be with Cordoba because she *wants* to be with Cordoba?" John Jacks finally stated, waiting for the inevitable explosion that this would bring from his son.

He didn't have to wait long. "No! Never! She'd *never* stay willingly with a man like Armand Cordoba! " Jax thundered, outraged that his father could even consider such a possibility.

"She already *has* stayed willingly with a man very much like Armand Cordoba - or have you forgotten that she left you to go back to Sonny Corinthos and was planning to marry *him* as well?" John asked, not wanting to bring up yet another unpleasant incident from the past, but feeling that Jax needed to be prepared for all possibilities.

Jax hadn't forgotten about that dark time in his life, nor could he ever. "That was a different time in our lives, Dad! Brenda was confused when she left me for Corinthos. She told me herself later that she had to get Sonny out of her system, which is why she left me for him when she did… But she had definitely put Sonny Corinthos and any romantic notions she had about him or his lifestyle behind her long before we ever got back together! … When Brenda went off that cliff and into that lake two years ago, she wasn't torn about her life with me or her life with Corinthos; her heart belonged to *me*, Dad - and only me! The last words she said to me -" His voice cracked with emotion now, as he remembered hearing her words on their answering machine for the first time just hours after he'd seen her go off the cliff. "- The last words she said to me were 'I love you, Jax,' and she meant them with all her heart! She loved me *then* and she loves me *now*! I don't know why she's with Cordoba and not me, but I damn well know it's not because she loves the man!" Jax shouted, as fought to hold back the tears of both anger and pain that he felt stinging his eyes.

John Jacks could feel his son's anguish and he hated that he'd been the one to bring up the pain of the past for him, but he would have hated more to have Jax go after Brenda, only to be totally unprepared for a possible rejection, no matter how remote that possibility might be. "I didn't mean to upset you like this," he finally said, contrition lacing his tone. "But it *is* something to consider, Jax, before you try to go storming in on Cordoba and her…"

"Dad, there's nothing to consider," Jax replied stubbornly. "Because I know Brenda, and no matter the circumstances that have kept us apart, I know that her heart still belongs to me, just as mine has always belonged only to her…"

"Jax, you know that your mother and I love Brenda like a daughter, and we have always felt that she is the only woman for you, but we also don't want you to go into this situation with rose-colored glasses on," his father answered evenly. "After all, you eventually moved on -"

"No, Dad," Jax interrupted. "I never *really* moved on from Brenda, and you know that. I may have slept with another woman, been solicitous of another woman's needs, but I *never* gave my heart to another woman - and she and I both knew that in the end… I *couldn't* move on from Brenda and our love, and now I know why: it's because a part of me always knew that she was still out there somewhere, waiting for me."

"But, my point is, son, what if she *hasn't* been waiting for you?" John asked pointedly. "Just because you couldn't get Brenda out of your heart doesn't mean she couldn't get you out of hers… You said that she's engaged to the man, Jax… What does it mean to be engaged? If she hasn't given her heart to him, why would she agree to marry the man?"

Jax felt as if his father had thrown cold water on him with that… She *has* to love the man if she agreed to marry him; Brenda didn't take such things lightly… It was something he'd tried not thinking about since the doorman at the hotel had told him about Brenda being Cordoba's fiancée. "I don't know what's going on there, Dad, but I do know - *for certain* - that she doesn't love the man. She *can't* -" His voice cracked again, and he realized that he couldn't talk about this anymore; as tired as he was, these tiny doubts would soon overpower him and he'd never be able to shake them. He had to focus on the positive, not the possible negative. He took a deep breath, then continued, his voice now even and controlled: "Dad, I need to hang up and start working now… If you find anything else out on Cordoba, let me know… Goodbye, Dad," he added, as he abruptly closed his phone before his father could say anything more about any of this.

Jax set his phone down and picked up the cover letter his father had sent that outlined where he'd found the information he'd uncovered. As he did, his right hand accidentally brushed against the other papers, scattering them across the cabin. "Dammit!" Jax muttered, as he bent to retrieve the scattered mess, quickly gathering them up off the floor. But as he grabbed for the last paper, a close-up picture of Armand Cordoba, his heart sank, as he realized something for the first time: Armand Cordoba bore a startling resemblance to Sonny Corinthos!

As he stared incredulously at the picture, his father's words of just moments ago reverberated through his head: "She already *has* stayed willingly with a man very much like Armand Cordoba…" Suddenly he felt sick, as the doubts his father had planted about Brenda *wanting* to be with Cordoba combined with his long-buried insecurities about Sonny Corinthos, both firmly taking root as they pushed their way fully into his conscious mind and headed straight for his heart…

Armand Cordoba smiled as he bent to kiss Veronica on the cheek, as she lay sleeping in one of the recliners on board the jet. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, then walked over to the wet bar to make himself a drink. It was late, and he and the pilot were the only ones awake at the moment. Even his bodyguards and the steward for the flight were sleeping in the back of the cabin, trying to get a few hours of rest before they landed. He knew that he should be resting also, but he was too excited to sleep.

It had been an extraordinary few days, and he'd been replaying the events over and over in his mind. He'd made several lucrative deals while in Rio and he'd also made several new connections that could prove to be even more lucrative in the future. But the most extraordinary thing to happen for him in the past few days was the fact that Veronica seemed to be finally warming to him and accepting their relationship. In Rio she'd played the loving fiancée in public, as she always did, but she'd also been warmer to him when they were alone. She still hadn't allowed him more than a kiss in private, but at least she had seemed less hesitant about that than she had before, and the thought that she might finally soon accept him *fully* as her fiancé excited him. In fact, he couldn't remember feeling happier in his life.

Still smiling, he took a sip of the Scotch, then walked back to settle into the recliner beside Veronica's, but instead of leaning back to rest, he turned to simply watch her sleep. She'd fallen asleep a good thirty minutes before, and he'd spent the intervening time just watching her, marveling at her incredible beauty and his incredible luck in finding her. She was simply exquisite. There was no other word to describe her; even wearing no makeup, as she was now, her beauty was flawless and incomparable.

Over the past few months that he'd been taking her with him on these trips, he'd seen many a man rendered nearly speechless by her incredible beauty. In fact, she was such a distraction to most men that he found her to be a valuable business attribute to have at his side - or at least in the room - when he was closing a lucrative deal. There always seemed to be far less haggling over price and payment terms when buyers were busy eyeing her rather than paying attention to the finer points of their contracts. And the Rio experience had been no exception.

But what had been the exception there was the fact that he hadn't inwardly boiled at the men who ogled her this time. Always before he had felt jealousy course through him at the lascivious stares that men would give her, even as they gave him more and more of their money; but this trip he'd merely felt proud that she was at his side. Perhaps it was because always before he'd known that she was his publicly, but not privately; that he had no more access to her than all those men who gawked at her and fantasized about her. But now - now the possibility of true intimacy with her loomed very large in his immediate future.

The beginning of her warming trend toward him had started right here on this very plane on their flight to Rio. She had confronted him about being too controlling of her and he had agreed to allow her more freedom - at least while they were home on the island. That had seemed to be enough to begin to thaw the ice princess routine she had fallen into a few weeks before. Not that she had *ever* been overly affectionate with him since coming out of the coma, always preferring to keep both a physical and emotional distance from him when they were alone and only allowing the appearance of intimacy between them when they were in public; but in recent weeks she had been particularly icy toward him, even occasionally blanching when he'd try to touch her in public. But now that all seemed to be in the past - or at least he hoped that it was.

Of course, the real proof of this apparent change in attitude toward him would come when they were finally back home on the island. And he supposed her treatment of him would be in direct correlation to how he treated her. He had promised her he'd allow her more freedom to wander around alone when they were home on the island, but he was having misgivings about that promise now. He'd been giving a lot of thought to it and the more he thought about it, the less comfortable he felt about it. But if he backed off that promise, then she'd most likely back away from him again, and the ice princess routine would return - possibly for good. So he'd finally settled on a "compromise" position: he'd make her *think* that he'd pulled back., while still maintaining surveillance of some sort on her. That way he'd still have a measure of control over her and she'd feel like she was roaming freely. Not that he was really worried about anyone unauthorized having access to her there. His electronic surveillance system on the island was state-of-the-art, and no one came or went from the island that he didn't know about - including those who visited the Petersons, on the other side of the island.

But for the moment, the Petersons or any visitors they might have weren't a consideration, as they were gone for the next few months. They had even given their staff the time off, leaving only their German-born gardener, John Bauer, to tend to the estate while they were gone, but he'd already run a background check on the man months ago, and the man was harmless, in his estimation. Bauer, though only in his early 30s, was reclusive and preferred plants to people, so he tended to stay exclusively on the estate, only leaving the island when absolutely necessary to pick up gardening supplies, even then avoiding any unnecessary social contact. In the unlikely event that Veronica *did* happen to wander to that side of the island, he doubted that Bauer would give her the time of day, and he was even more certain that he wouldn't recognize her as Brenda Barrett if they did happen to meet. So things were most likely safe on that front, he decided.

As for his half of the island, there were enough cameras and monitors that she would rarely be out of range of his watchful eyes, despite appearing that she was all alone, and when she went to any of the other islands to shop he'd simply make sure that Kirby accompanied her at all times. After all, she had agreed to that particular stipulation, and Kirby was trustworthy and loyal only to him, so he had no doubt that the man would intervene to whisk her away her before she was any the wiser if someone happened to recognize.

But the chances of that happening were remote at best. After all, as far as the world knew, Brenda Barrett was dead. Those who'd known her personally and had loved her had mourned her loss and moved on by now; and those who'd only known only her celebrity would doubtless have forgotten her as well, now emulating the latest in a never-ending succession of beautiful icons, whose faces filled the magazines and TV screens around the globe. She may be his whole world now, but to the rest of the world Brenda Barrett, was a mere wisp of a nearly forgotten memory. Brenda Barrett is dead, he thought, smiling as he glanced over at the sleeping form beside him; long live Veronica Devereaux!

With that thought in mind, Armand Cordoba finally relaxed, and, taking one last sip of Scotch, then leaning over to kiss Veronica again on the cheek, he settled back in his recliner and closed his eyes, secure in the knowledge that all was right in his little world. His business was thriving, Veronica was accepting him as her friend, and it was only a matter of time before she accepted him as her lover and husband as well. Right here, right now he was king of the world, and nothing and no one could touch the happiness that was finally within his grasp.

Jax rubbed his eyes wearily and stood to stretch, hoping that movement would re-energize him so that he could continue with the task at hand without having to stop to sleep. He'd spent the last two hours hunched over the report his father had faxed him, studying ever word and trying to read between the lines, hoping to get a better handle on Armand Cordoba and his habits. Yet he knew essentially no more now than he had when he'd started.

Apparently Armand Cordoba was a very private man, who maintained tight control over everything around him - and that included the news media, it would seem. He kept a surprisingly low profile for a man who lived a high-profile existence. Most of what his father had sent him had come from second-hand sources, and they were filled mainly with rumor and innuendo, when Jax craved cold, hard facts. Yet the only facts his father had been able to unearth were Cordoba's birth certificate and his passport records, neither of which served to shed much light on what made the man tick, although it did tell Jax that the man had a thriving business around the world, given the number of frequent flyer miles he'd stacked up in recent months.

His father had also supplied "official" records for "Veronica Devereaux," as well. The birth certificate looked authentic enough, but Jax knew that such things were easily faked, especially in this day and age. Besides, in his heart he knew that "Veronica" was really Brenda, so it didn't matter what any piece of paper said - authentic-looking or not.

But it was the passport records that had really caught his attention. They showed that over the past six months she had gone nearly everywhere with Cordoba - a total of sixteen countries spread out over four continents - some of which were countries on the State Department's list of dangerous countries for travel. That angered Jax, as he wondered if Cordoba had dragged Brenda with him to actual meetings with clients in all those disparate - and potentially dangerous - countries? The thought of Brenda having to be in the same room with some of the vermin with whom Cordoba no doubt dealt made Jax's skin crawl and he wanted to strangle the man with his bare hands for exposing Brenda to that kind of danger. Didn't he understand the treasure that Brenda was? How could he treat her life so callously? Or was it simply fear that drove him to keep her with him at all times - fear that if he left her alone, she'd try to bolt from her gilded cage with Cordoba and return to him in Port Charles?

That theory seemed the most likely to him, especially after he realized that Brenda, as Veronica, had accompanied Cordoba everywhere recently, *except* on his trips back to the States. Why else would the man not take her back to their home country if he wasn't afraid that she'd either be recognized or try to make a run for it?

But that little voice of doubt inside his head continued to harass him: why hasn't she tried to leave Cordoba? She's been gone nearly two years, continent-hopping with the man for the past six months - she would have had plenty of opportunities to let someone somewhere know that she was with him against her will, but she didn't, the voice of doubt goaded. That's because she *wants* to be with him - *not you*; just like she wanted to be with *Corinthos* - and *not you*…

"*Noooo!!! Stop it!!!*" Jax shouted, flinging the papers across the cabin in frustration. His voice echoed loudly in the empty cabin above the low hum of the jet's engines.

Instantly the phone on the table beside him rang. Jax picked it up, knowing it would be his pilot, wondering what was going on. "You okay, back there?" Chuck asked.

Jax sighed, knowing that wasn't an easy question to answer, especially since he wasn't okay. "Yeah, everything's fine," he lied, as he slumped wearily back into his seat.

"Having a nightmare?" Chuck prodded, when Jax offered nothing in the way of explanation for his outburst.

Jax gave a bitter laugh at that. "Yeah, something like that," he replied, staring at the sea of papers that covered the floor around him and wishing that he'd never laid eyes on any of those papers.

Chuck Wittier had been piloting the Jacks' jet for nearly a decade now, and in that time he'd gotten to know the entire Jacks family fairly well. But he knew Jax best of all, and he knew from the look on Jax's face over the past few days and the sound of his voice just now that this was more than a simple nightmare. He knew that Jax had been poring over some fax he'd received just after they'd left Brazilian airspace. Chuck didn't know what was in those papers, but he'd bet his last dollar that they had to do with Ms. Barrett and this Cordoba guy they'd been chasing for the past several days.

He'd also bet that Jax was obsessing as to why Ms. Barrett was with this Cordoba in the first place, which is what had most likely caused Jax's outburst, rather than an actual nightmare - because to have an actual nightmare, one had to actually sleep. And he knew that Jax hadn't slept since they'd taken off several hours ago. In fact, he knew that Jax had had little more than a quick nap over the past several days. He was worried that the man was headed for a meltdown if he didn't get some rest soon. But he also knew that Jax couldn't rest until he'd ended this quest to hold Brenda Barrett in his arms once again.

Chuck remembered how happy both Jax and Ms. Barrett had been when they were together. In fact, he couldn't remember Jax ever being happier than he'd been when the two of them had been married - or at least thought they were married. Jax had been legally married twice - the first time, before Chuck met him, to a woman Jax had met when they were both teens; and the second time just a year ago, a marriage that Chuck knew was in name only. But Jax had told him once that neither of those legal marriages had felt as real to him as his marriage to Brenda, which had turned out to be illegal. Jax had been truly committed to Brenda Barrett - he'd pledged his mind, body, and soul to her when they'd said their vows to one another, and it didn't matter to Jax whether or not the courts ever recognized that union because his heart still did, and that was all that mattered.

He supposed that was why Jax was so single-minded now in this pursuit of Brenda. He was a man on a mission, and he wouldn't rest until he'd accomplished that mission and he and Brenda were once again living as man and wife - this time legally as well as spiritually. He only hoped that happened soon because he doubted that Jax could stand much more of this transcontinental game of hide-and-seek they were now involved in without resolution coming one way or another. He also hoped, for Jax's sake, that when they finally caught up with Cordoba and this woman who looked so like Brenda Barrett that things would end well for Jax. Otherwise he feared that a meltdown would be a certainty for Jax.

"Listen, Jax, you haven't slept a wink since we took off and you haven't had much more than a catnap in days, so I know you're exhausted," Chuck said, hoping that Jax would listen to reason here. "We still have several hours before we hit the Bahamas, so why don't you try getting some sleep?… I guarantee that things will look a whole lot better after you've gotten some actual rest… Besides, you won't be good for anything - let alone for rescuing Ms. Barrett from this guy - if you're dead on your feet!"

There was a momentary silence, as Jax considered his friend's words. He knew Chuck was right, but he wasn't sure he could sleep at this point. "You're a good friend, Chuck, and I know you're probably right, but I don't think I can…"

"Sure, ya can!" Chuck interrupted, knowing exactly what was going through Jax's head now. "Just walk over to the bar and pour yourself a tall, stiff drink of something - preferably something with a high enough alcohol content to numb that brain of yours and block out any doubts you may be having about Ms. Barrett and this Cordoba…"

Jax laughed softly at that. "You really *do* know me, don't you, Chuck?"

"Yeah, I do," Chuck answered. "And I got to know Ms. Barrett pretty well, too, when you were together. I may not have known her as long or as well as I do you, Jax, but I did know her well enough to be able to recognize the look of love she had in her eyes whenever she saw you or even spoke about you… That was the real thing, and love like that doesn't just disappear, no matter what… If this woman with this guy, Cordoba, *is* Ms. Barrett - and I trust you when you tell me that she is - then you can trust me when I tell you that she's not with him because she loves him…"

Jax sat quietly, allowing Chuck's words to soak through the layers of doubt that seemed to be encasing his heart and mind now. "You're a good friend, Chuck… Thanks for the pep talk and the advice," he finally answered. "I'm heading to the bar to make myself a nightcap the minute I hang up, and then I promise that I'll lie down for at least a couple of hours. The next sound you hear will be me snoring so loud it'll rattle the windows."

"Okay, well, I'll be sure to wake you if it gets bad enough that we're in danger of you blowing out those widows and depressurizing the plane," Chuck laughed, then added, "Now, get some sleep!"

Smiling, Jax hung up the phone, then stood to walk to the bar, glancing down at the papers that littered his path. Stooping to once again gather them up, he paused, studying the grainy picture of Armand Cordoba, whose uncanny resemblance to Sonny Corinthos seemed even more apparent to him now. "I hope you're right, Chuck," he whispered aloud. "Because I don't think I could stand losing her again… not like *this* again…" he added, crumpling the picture, then tossing it back onto the floor and grinding it beneath his heels as he went to pour himself the stiffest drink he could find to drown the doubts that continued to plague his mind and cloud his heart.

She was having that dream again…

She was wearing a long, white gown made of the softest silk - an evening gown, perhaps?- she wondered, as the dream pulled her deeper and deeper into its embrace. She could feel the slow, steady roll of the floor beneath her feet and hear the gentle waves as they lightly lapped against the sides of the boat. She was standing at the railing, looking alternately between the calm seas below and the midnight sky above, which was alight with a nearly full moon and a myriad of brightly twinkling stars. In the distance she could hear the soft strains of romantic music, and the melody made her smile. She heard footsteps behind her and instantly she detected the briefest scent of masculine cologne coming ever closer. She could feel the anticipatory excitement in her stomach as he approached, and finally, as he enveloped her from behind with his strong, muscular arms, placing a gentle kiss of promise on the curve of her neck, she felt a happiness and a completeness unlike anything she'd ever known before. What was this feeling? She couldn't name it, but she never wanted it to stop, and she wanted to stay in this dream forever.

But nothing lasts forever, least of all dreams, and the sounds of soft music and gentle lapping of waves were soon replaced by the insistent hum of jet engines, and she felt a hand gently brush aside the hair from her face and lips once again kissing the curve of her neck. She slowly opened her eyes to find Armand smiling at her, as he moved his lips from her neck to kiss her cheek and then her mouth.

"It's time to wake up," he said quietly. "We'll be landing in a matter of minutes," he said, as he continued to caress her hair, loving the silky feel of it between his fingers. "I hated to wake you, though… You looked so happy… What were you dreaming?" he asked, pulling away reluctantly as she suddenly sat upright in the recliner.

"Dreaming?" she asked, her mind racing as she tried to orient herself once again to the reality of her waking world. Why did he need to know what she was dreaming? Was there nothing the man didn't want to control about her, she wondered? Despite his promise to allow her more freedom - and he had seemed to be less controlling of her in Rio and he promised that she would be free to roam their home estate at will - she suddenly wondered now if that had all been simply a ploy on his part to get her to allow him further liberties with her? Mentally she berated herself for thinking that. The man was her fiancé, for heaven's sake - of course, he expected certain *things* from her! Certain things you aren't ready to give him yet, a little voice deep within her heart whispered. And those certain things included sharing her body, as well as sharing her innermost thoughts or feelings - or dreams.

"What makes you think I was dreaming anything?" she asked defensively, instinct telling her to continue to viciously guard her thoughts and especially this dream from him.

He seemed undeterred by her evasion. "You had the most beautiful smile on your face. I just assumed you were dreaming…" he persisted, leaning closer to her as he spoke. "Was it a dream about me - about us - about how good things could be for us if -?" He finished his thought by leaning in to nuzzle her neck, once again brushing his lips across her cheek and finally landing fully onto her mouth.

"Ummm… yes, it was," she answered quickly, her face flushing as she pulled herself away from his embrace, then quickly fastened her seatbelt. "Hadn't you better buckle up? You said yourself that we'd be landing soon," she added, flashing Armand a quick smile, as she tried to deflect his attention from both her and her dream.

He mistook her flushed face for embarrassment at what he assumed was the erotic nature of her dream about him. He seemed not to notice that she had intentionally changed the subject, instead smiling happily that she had been dreaming of them together. Things really were progressing nicely for the two of them, he decided, as he settled into the seat beside her and fastened his seatbelt in preparation for their landing. This entire trip had been a dream come true for him, and he was eager to bring that dream to a pleasurable climax for the both of them - and if he played his cards right, that time would not be too far away. Smiling, he reached over and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss, then placing their entwined hands on the armrest between them as the jet quickly began its descent onto his private runway on the private island estate he shared with the woman of his dreams.

As they landed, she too was smiling, as she replayed her dream over and over. She'd had the same dream countless times over the past few weeks, and she wondered what it meant - if anything? The man in her dreams… Her mind was on the man in her dreams, but, unlike Armand, who seemed certain that *he* was that man, she was having doubts about his identity… The feel of his lips and the scent of him… There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she never saw his face… She only hoped that one day she'd finally know for certain who this man was, but until then she prayed that he'd continue to haunt her dreams night after night, awakening those unbelievable stirrings deep within her that lay dormant and cold during her waking moments. She loved those feelings she experienced in her dreams; it was the only time she felt truly alive… She didn't know *who* this dream man was or *where* he was or even if ever *really* existed or if he was merely a figment of her long-buried fantasies, but there was one thing she *did* know for certain: Armand Cordoba was *not* that man… She only hoped that one day her dream lover would reveal himself to her and walk into her waking world as well…