Sins of the Father and the Son Author: Romantique Email: dolph1n@sbcglobal.net Rating: NC 17 - Adult language and situations Summary: Burton is confronted with his illicit past, a past which will change everything! Classification: Nick and Burton Angst. Distribution: Archive anywhere, but please e-mail me at dolph1n@sbcglobal.net Many thanks to 1) Suzanne Moore for her excellent story and plot contributions, encouragement, and keeping me out of trouble and 2) Janet Dillon for keeping the fictitious Fallin family history oh so real. Author's note: The Prologue was written for the purpose of dealing with the events of the Season 1 cliffhanger, as well as the upcoming Season 2 opener, before it is airs. Prologue August 2002 It's been an endless summer of quid pro quos for Burton and Nicholas Fallin; however, the long strand of "coincidences" did not begin to manifest and fray until early June. It was then that Burton Fallin gave up his appointment to the Federal Bench in order to save his son. After Nicholas was charged with the murder of Mandy Gressler and several felony parole violations, Burton learned that Mitchell Lichtman was responsible for framing his son. At first, the Senior Fallin believed that Lichtman was under the control of former Senator Nathan Caldwell, but he soon discovered it was the other way around. Burton always knew Mitchell Lichtman was an extremely compromised animal, but even Burton, who thought he had seen it all, was surprised to learn Lichtman had family ties to a Chicago crime boss wanting to move in on Pittsburgh. From the very beginning, Lichtman was a plant in Caldwell's former political organization. Among other things, he blackmailed the former Senator to vote in favor of diverting state and federal funds to organized criminal activities. Closer to home, it was also Lichtman who was pulling the strings to control Burton Fallin through his son, ever since Nick was sentenced to community service on his drug conviction. Bank account audits proved that both Dale Petrocki, Nick's murdered parole officer, and Detective Darber were on the take from Licthman's people to frame Nick Fallin for Mandy's murder, when in fact, she died from an accidental drug overdose. Burton felt like such a fool. Lichtman was grooming him to become a figurehead judge under the mob's control. Burton never saw it coming because he was too blinded by his own ego needs. But Nicholas had seen it! Immediately, Burton went to the FBI with information of Lichtman's involvement in extortion and racketeering of federal funds. The feds had been investigating the Chicago connection for several months and all parties, including the Fallins, had been under surveillance for the past year. Burton struck a deal with the Feds to save his son. Risking his own life, he wore a wire to several meetings with Caldwell and Lichtman in order to get them to talk about their activities. As soon as the FBI gathered sufficient evidence against Lichtman, they were were convinced they had their main man. Lichtman was arrested, and all charges against Nicholas were dropped in exchange for Burton's testimony against Lichtman. After much thought, Burton decided that Nick would never know about his deal with the FBI. After all, it was his deal with Caldwell that placed them in this big mess. And the mess keeps growing. The tentacles of Mitchell Lichtman's reach was so pervasive, the District Attorney is now calling for an investigation into the death of Judge Stanton. Foul play is now suspected. As soon as Lichtman was taken into custody, Burton was able to void the Managing Partner Agreement with Caldwell and reclaimed his firm. The former Senator is also under investigation for federal racketeering. Fallin Associates August 5, 2002 8:00 a.m. Deep in thought, Nicholas Fallin leaves his father's corner office, closing the door behind him. He makes his way down the hallway and suddenly stops in his tracks in front of Sheila's desk. "Do you know where my father is?" Nick queries his Dad's longtime assistant. "He's supposed to chair a meeting this morning with our new client, Allegheny Shipping Cargo." "He won't be in the office today," Sheila answers in a very matter of fact manner. "And the meeting with Allegheny Shipping has been rescheduled for a week from Friday." "You didn't answer my question. My father's been gone for two days now, and he . . . he hasn't returned my calls to his cell phone or . . . or to his home," Nick begins to stammer a bit, indicating he is upset. "It's not like him to be gone and not tell me where he's going, especially in light of the Lichtman matter!" Finally, he regains control of himself, takes a deep, calming breath, and searches Sheila's face with pleading eyes. "Have you spoken with him? Do you know if he's all right?" Sheila has known Burton's son for so many years and has always held a soft spot in her heart for the spirited, younger Fallin. She tries to convey a degree of comfort to him while hiding her own concern for her absent boss. "Yes, Nick. Your father is okay. I spoke with him early this morning." "Then, where is he?" Nick raises one eyebrow, demanding to know. "Look," Sheila sighs, trying to be diplomatic, "Your father is okay. He will call you when he can." "Does his absence have anything to do with this Caldwell/Lichtman stuff? Please Sheila, I have to know," Nick pleads. "No," she assures Nick without skipping a beat, "absolutely, not. Like you, if I hear the names of Caldwell or Lichtman again, it will be too soon." "Good, that is good to know," Nick sighs, visibly showing his relief. Nick then asks in a low voice so that no one else can hear. "Did he go away for a romantic weekend? Is it something like that?" Sheila leans over and answers softly, "No, it's nothing like that. Sorry, but that is really all I can tell you." Nick reluctantly nods his head, indicating that he understands. He can tell Sheila is in the delicate position of having to hold his father's whereabouts in confidence. New Orleans International Airport Kenner, Louisiana August 8, 2002 8:20 a.m. The early morning flight from Pittsburgh lands on time at New Orleans International Airport. From his seat in First Class, Nick walks off the plane and through the arrival gate into the main terminal. He is casually dressed in jeans, a gray t-shirt, and sneakers; and he searches the overhead signs until he sees the one marked "Ground Transportation." With his garment bag and briefcase in tow, he jogs in the direction indicated by the signs. Once outside of the terminal, he locates the taxi stand. He quickly hails himself a cab, hops into the back seat, and hands the waiting cabbie a piece of paper. "Would you take me to this address?" the winded young man asks the markedly older driver. The sweltering Louisiana heat is unyielding, and beads of sweat appear on Nick's face. "Sure thing," the cabbie answers putting the car in gear. He cranks up the air conditioner and begins to clock the fare. Leaning back into his seat, Nick closes his eyes. Nick is thoroughly exhausted. He has spent the better part of the past two days with a private investigator, a former cop he occasionally uses on casework. The two of them split up an enormous task and phoned much of Pittsburgh, as well as covered most of Pennsylvania by car looking for Burton Fallin. Using his father's calling card and credit card records, they were finally able to track him down to a New Orleans phone number where daily calls had been placed to Fallin Associates on his cards over several days. And from this phone number, the PI was able to get obtain an originating address just outside of New Orleans. Nick had never been to New Orleans before; as far as he knew, neither had his father. Fallin Associates had no clients in this part of the country. He couldn't think of any reason why his father would come here. Finally, the air conditioner begins to cool the air to a comfortable level. The cool air, coupled with the rhythmic jostle of the cab cruising along the interstate, lulls Nick into a much needed sleep. Some forty-five minutes later, he is abruptly awakened by the cabbie. "Sir . . . sir, we're here," the driver announces as he pulls the taxi to a stop. Opening his eyes and shaking cobwebs of drowsiness from his head, Nick squints at the bright sunlight and looks out the car window to find they are parked in front of a small, modest house in a run down residential neighborhood. The housing track is etched with signs of poverty. Junked, old cars are parked in some of the front yards, and there is clothing hung on clotheslines behind wired, broken cyclone fences. Children, some of them dirty, are running barefoot and playing ball in the middle of the street's sweltering black pavement. "549 Exiter Street," he mumbles to himself, verifying the address he had given the cabbie. Then suddenly, he notices an Enterprise rental car, a white Lincoln Continental parked in the driveway. In this neighborhood, the new luxury car sticks out like a sore thumb. Nick hands the cab driver two crisp, one hundred dollar bills and then, flashes yet another in front of his eyes. "Would you wait here for me?" he asks, holding up the third bill with a closed mouth smile on his lips. "I shouldn't be too long." "Sure thing, sir," the interested cabbie returns the smile, pocketing the other two bills. "You can take all the time you want." "Then, I'll leave my bags here, if that's okay?" he looks to the driver's face for a response. The cabbie replies, "Yeah, leave your things right here. They aren't going anywhere." Nick gives the driver a nod of appreciation and steps out of the car and into the over-the-century-mark heat. He makes his way to the front door of the house and rings the doorbell but hears no ring. After an unsuccessful second attempt, he decides the bell must be broken. He knocks on the screen door but his knuckles go through a hole in the rusted mesh. Finally, he opens the broken screen door, causing a loud squeak at the hinges and knocks on the wooden door behind it. In a moment, he can hear approaching footsteps from inside the house. The door is opened by a beautiful, raven-hair young woman with eyes greener than the lush summer grass. "Hello," Nick is taken aback by the woman's beauty. He struggles to make a quick recovery and continues, "I'm looking for Burton Fallin. I'm his son. He wouldn't happen to be here, would he?" A surprised look comes over the woman's face at the mention of his father's name. "Just a minute," she answers in a Southern drawl that is as smooth as Tennessee sipping whiskey. She gently closes the door, leaving Nick to stand outside on the porch. Less than a minute later, Nick hears approaching footsteps from inside the home again, only this time, they are heavier. The door reopens. "Nicholas," Burton Fallin is genuinely startled at the site of his son. His startled expression is equally reflected in the face of his son. "What are you doing here?" From the other side of the tattered screen door, Burton is dressed in jeans and a Polo shirt. "Are you with `her'?" Nick asks, referring to the young beauty who answered the door. He is suddenly very embarrassed. It is hard for him to think of his father as a single male. "Is she why you're here?" "Oh, no," Burton immediately replies. Then, the look on Burton's face quickly changes from one of start to anger. "How did you find me? I can't believe you FOLLOWED me all the way out here?" "Dad," Nick quickly tries to explain, now satisfied that his Dad did not disappear to New Louisiana for a romantic tryst. Moving his right hand in cadence with his speech for emphasis, he continues to explain his own sudden appearance, "You disappeared! I haven't heard from you in over five days. You haven't returned any of my calls." He lets out a heated sigh that matches the sweltering air temperature. His days of worry have turned into sudden anger that is evident in his voice. "This isn't like you, Dad. Not letting me know where you are . . . where you're going . . . ESPECIALLY after what we've been through this summer? Nobody knew where you were, or you instructed them not to tell me. If I had done this to you, just disappeared into thin air, what would you have done?" He pauses for only a beat, not really wanting a response; and he continues by answering his own question. "You would have done exactly the same thing, Dad. You would have come looking for me." Burton stands before his son feeling quite small. Nick is absolutely right; any impending argument has been completely knocked out of him. Finally he speaks, softening a bit, "If you tried to call my cell, it's out of range here." "I also left messages at your house," Nick informs his Dad with his anger not letting up. "Since when do you not check your messages?" Nick is having a hard time understanding his father's peculiar behavior. "I've been preoccupied, son," he begins to soften a little more. "Look, as you can see, I'm fine. I'm staying over at the Quality Inn Marina in Chalmette on Paris Road. It's about the only game in town. Why don't you go on over there, and check into a room? And I'll meet you there in about an hour. I'll explain everything then." And Burton moves his head as a signal to tell him again to leave. "Okay," Nick responds slowly, looking sideways at this father. Burton appears to be very uncomfortable. "Are you okay, Dad?" Nick whispers so that no one can hear. "Oh . . . yes, I'm fine . . . really. I'll see you in about an hour," he repeats flatly and shuts the door, returning to the mystery inside that house. Nick leaves the porch and heads for the cab feeling rejected, shut out of his father's life. It is such a familiar feeling from his childhood, although he hasn't felt this way in a long time stemming from his Dad, until now. Quality Inn Marina Chalmette, Louisiana August 8, 2002 Noon For someone who was utterly exhausted and in dire need of sleep only a short while ago, Nick is now hyped from adrenaline and caffeine. He nervously paces back and forth in the modest room. He took has father's suggestion and checked into a room. Now, all he can do is to wait and pace, wait and pace. A knock at the door startles him; he walks over and opens the door to his room. "Hi, Nick. Can I come in?" Burton asks for access into his son's room. Nick steps away from the door, allowing his father to enter. He can't help but notice his Dad's face looks as if he's aged ten years over the past several days. It is ashen grey and heavy with burden. Nick takes a seat at the table on the other side of the room. His Dad prefers to stand near the door. "I don't know where to begin," Burton remarks as if to put off facing the inevitable. "I mean I REALLY don't know where. My entire life is imploding on top of itself." He nervously combs the sparse patch of hair on the top of his head with his fingers. Then, he takes in a deep breath, finally willing himself to explain his sudden disappearance. "About a week ago at my office, I received a phone call. A dear friend of mine passed away." Nick's hands are neatly folded in front of him on the table. He looks up at his Dad. "I'm sorry. Did I know your friend?" "You did meet her once," Burton answers his son. "But that was a long, long time ago." Nick picks up on that key word. It further piques his curiosity. "There's no easy way for me to say this," Burton's tone changes from uncomfortable to extremely uncomfortable. "So, I'm just going to come right out and say it, okay?" The elder Fallin clears his tightening throat and begins to recite the speech he's been practicing. In fact, he is so rehearsed, he sounds as if he's delivering a summation in court. "Several years before I left your mother, we weren't living as man and wife. Even though we lived together in the same house, she and I slept in separate rooms and pretty much maintained separate lives. Clearing his throat again, Burton can see that Nick is holding his head in his hands at the mere mention of this tumultuous time in their lives. Burton takes in a deep breath and looks up to the sky. He can't even bare to make eye contact with his son. "I was alone, a very lonely man. I can't remember a time when I ever felt so lonely." Nick now shakes his lowered head in disbelief. "By this time, your mother and I didn't engage in normal, marital relations," Burton continues. Then, he finally does look over at Nick who is still holding his head in his hands. "I'm not blaming your mother, Nick. She was incapable of giving me any emotion or physical touch." He pauses to collect his racing thoughts, to buy time and put together the right words. "I met someone at that time in my life. She was someone who was looking for nothing more than companionship." ". . . and so, you had an affair," Nick finishes Burton's thought, looking up and staring at his father with a fiery anger in his eyes. "I don't like to call it an affair," Burton is suddenly very defensive. "This woman meant a lot to me. I loved your mother. But I was IN love with Dominique." ". . . while you were married to MY mother," Nick finishes his father's sentence again, taking this all very personally. How could he not? The very mention of his father's betrayal to his mother flips a switch in Nick. The fire in his eyes continues to smolder. "How long did this go on? Did Mom know about this `Dominique?' " he asks with sarcasm in his voice. "No," Burton shakes his head. "She didn't know." Now, it is Burton who hangs his head. "My relationship with Nickie, uh Dominique, lasted for three years." Nick is incensed. "Is SHE the reason you left us?" His eyes widen, consumed with a fire that is close to burning out of control. His nostrils flare in anger as he stands up from his chair, his adrenaline flowing at full force. It takes every bit of self control to keep from hauling off and knocking his father to the floor. "No," Burton shouts sharply with tears in his eyes. The room vibrates from the shout. He continues to finish his thought at a more normal volume. "Nickie sent me back home to your mother. She sent me back to your mother so that we could work things out!" There. He had said it. And now, he will defend the honor of his beloved Dominique. Burton's voice shakes with hurt, as he emphatically defends his love. "My relationship with Nickie is none of your damn business! You didn't know her, and you have no right to malign her. If you are going to be angry with someone, make sure you direct your anger where it belongs, at me, understand?" After a momentary stare-off, the resulting silence in the room between these two heated men hangs heavy in the air. Finally, Burton breaks the silence. "Dominique died six months ago, and her death is not the reason I came to New Orleans. There's more to the story." "More?" Nick laughs out loud in a gesture of disrespect. "You asked me why I came here, to Louisiana. Do you want to know or not?" Burton is fast losing his patience. "Yes," Nick nods his head, "I do want to know." "All right then," Burton tries to shift to a calmer state. "Like I said, about a week ago I received a phone call that Dominique had passed away," he again has tears in his eyes; he swallows hard. "And I was also told that we had a son, a son I never even knew existed until last week." Nick grabs hold of the table with his hand to steady him, as he flashes his father a look of total shock and disbelief. "Nickie never let me know she was pregnant . . . that she had our child." Burton tries to explain. "I came here to meet her son, to find out for myself." "Do you know this for certain? I mean that you are the father?" Nick finally speaks as if on automatic pilot, unable to look at his father in the face. "Dominique's son needs to know the truth, too. We had DNA testing done yesterday. The results will be back in a couple of days," Burton answers stoically. "But my gut feel after meeting the young man is that . . . I AM his father." Nick is closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. He feels as if he's been pelted with the sharpest blow of betrayal he has ever experienced in his entire life. He takes in a deep breath as if to suck the blow deep inside where no one else can see. He takes in all of the hurt, all of the pain. Nick is a pro at hiding his feelings. "I came here to see if you were okay. I found out what I needed to know," Nick replies in flat tone, and gives his father a cold, hard stare. Then, he abruptly turns on his heel, walks past his father and out of the room in a silent calm that can only be likened to the quiet that comes before a violent storm. "Nick . . . Nick," Burton shouts out the door, chasing after him down the hall. He watches as Nick open the door to the stairwell and hurries down them. Burton decides that he had better let Nick go. He knows his son well enough to know when to leave him alone. --+-- Part 2 In Flight to Pittsburgh August 8, 2002 7:30 p.m. EST After a four hour wait for a flight out to Pittsburgh, Nick was finally on his way back home. He stares aimlessly out the plane's window into the summer evening sky. "Sir, can I get you something to drink?" the steward asks his First Class passenger. "Uh, no thanks," Nick mumbles. "On second thought," he changes his mind, "could I have a club soda?" "Here you go," the steward replies as he hands Nick a bottle of Canada Dry and a cup of ice. Nick is glad no one is seated next to him for the long flight back. He doesn't feel like talking with anyone. He pours a bit of the carbonated liquid into the cup, and takes a sip. Then, he raises the armrest between his seat and the seat next to him and stretches his queasy body into the vacant space. After leaving his father in Chalmette, he had taken a cab directly to the airport. He couldn't get a flight out until 5:30 p.m. So for four hours, Nick sat in the Airport Lounge nursing one vodka and tonic after another, in an attempt to numb himself from the aftermath of that horrible scene with his father. It worked because now, Nick is completely numb. The club soda was a big mistake. Now, his head and his stomach are churning in unison. He fumbles for the airsick bag from the seat pocket in front of him. He barely gets the bag to his mouth in time and has to race to the restroom at the front of the cabin. Fortunately, it is vacant. He stands before the door and retches with the bag in front of his face. Once inside the small compartment, he manages to close the door. He feels as if he is dying and would rather do so in private. Then suddenly, he retches again into the commode, spewing an endless sea of vodka and tonic that goes on and on and on. Finally, there is nothing in his stomach left to come up, and he flushes the sickening contents and tries to stand. His stomach feels better after vomiting, but he is left feeling weak and numb, almost as if he's left his own body. He looks as if he's left his own body, too. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he stumbles to the sink, he looks like death warmed over. Translucent green is the color of his skin, and his eyes are closed to half slits. He can barely keep them open, as all he wants to do now is sleep. He turns on the cold water and begins to splash it onto his face. It feels good. The cool liquid touches the corner of his mouth and then his tongue. It tastes good, too. He then fills a paper cup and begins to rinse the foul taste of regurgitated alcohol out of his mouth. "Hey, are you okay in there?" the steward taps on the other side of the door. It is the same steward who gave him the club soda. "I'm sorry," Nick utters, sounding weak. "I'm sick. Can you just give me a minute?" "No problem. Let me know if you need anything. I'm close by," the steward offers. "Thanks," Nick manages to utter. He goes back to rinsing the horrid taste out of his mouth. After a several more minutes, he pulls some paper towels from the dispenser and pats his face and mouth dry. Then, he looks at himself again in the mirror. Water is splattered all over his t-shirt, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything. All he wants to do is make it back to his seat and pass out . . . pass out and feel absolutely nothing . . . pass out so he can't think . . . pass out so he can't dream . . . pass out and go where he can be absolutely alone. He is not cognoscente of his own strength, and the restroom door springs open as he tries to unlock the door. He almost falls into the aisle. The steward is nearby and is able to hold Nick steady. The smell of alcohol is now very apparent. "Here, let me help you back to your seat," the steward guides his wobbly passenger back to his seat by the arm. Walking the distance of two rows seemed a lot farther than it really was. Nick stumbles and falls into his seat. The steward reaches into the overhead cargo bin and hands Nick pillows and blankets. "I bet you would feel better if you could get some sleep," the steward suggests. He has handled passengers before who had too much to drink before getting on the plane. Nick gratefully accepts them while the steward shuts off his overhead light. "Thank you," Nick manages to get the words out of his mouth before he completely passes out. Fallin Associates August 12, 2002 9:15 a.m. It's a typical Monday morning, and Nick is late for a meeting. Before going to Fallin Associates, he had to deliver a brief to Legal Services of Pittsburgh by 8:00 a.m. so that it could be presented in court. Alvin offered to walk the papers into court if Nick would finish the brief. Nick stayed up most of the night working on his part of the bargain. Nick hurries down the hallway and into his office where he can hear is father's voice from the conference room. Burton had left a voice mail message on Nick's answering machine at home two days ago, asking for Nick to call him, but Nick wasn't ready to talk to his Dad. He's no more ready to talk to him now. "Nick, you are here," "Burton pokes his head inside the doorway. Nick looks up and gives him a look that says he is not pleased with his father's intrusion. "I have someone here I'd like you to meet," Burton announces and moves aside, coaxing a man into Nick's office. "Nicholas, this is Jason Benoit. Son, he is your half-brother," Burton announces without the slightest hint of emotion. Nick locks eyes with the young man. Mr. Benoit is tall, much taller than Nick. He has dark hair and clear blue eyes much like his Dad's. Nick guesses the man must be in his mid-twenties. He appears to be simultaneously sizing up Nick and as uncomfortable as Nick feels. The two men shake hands. The interaction feels awkward to both. "It's nice to meet you," Jason says. "Your father has told me so much about you." His gentile Southern accent combined with a French influence is quite apparent. "Then, you are at a great advantage," Nicholas replies, in the mood to spar with the stranger in his midst, "because I know nothing about you." "And that is why I brought Jason here, Nick," Burton interrupts to diffuse Nick's response. "I'd like everyone to have some time to get to know one another." Nick shifts his gaze and glares at his father with utter disdain. "Jason, why don't you go into my office and call that fiancé of yours and tell her we're on our way," Burton suggests, attempting to shelter Jason from Nick's ire. "I'll be there in a few minutes and then, we can go back to my place." "It was nice to meet you," Jason says politely, smiling weakly at Nick. "This is hard, I know. But I hope we have an opportunity to spend some time together." Nick gives a forced smile in return but says nothing. As soon as Jason has left the room, Nick asks his father to close the door. Burton promptly complies with his son's request. "I see that your DNA results came back. Who in the hell do you think you are springing him on me this way?" Nick is fuming, angrier with his father than he was before, if that is possible. "It was the only way," Burton explains. "You didn't call me back. You weren't going to call me back. It was obvious you didn't want to see me." "I still don't want to see you," Nick seethes. His anger continues to build, until he blurts out what he really thinks of the unwanted introduction. "What . . . what do you want from me? You confess that you betrayed my mother AGAIN, and that . . . that you fathered an illegitimate child with another woman. And then, you bring him here to Pittsburgh without telling me and expect me to socialize with you and your bastard, to get to know him, as if this is all a commonplace occurrence?" Burton is not at all happy to hear what Nick has to say, but at least Nick is talking. He stands there, allowing his son to rant and rave. When Nick doesn't receive an answer from his father, he continues. "If that is what you want from me, I can't do it. I won't." Burton lets out a heavy sigh. "I don't expect anything from you. I've had a week longer to adjust to this situation than you, and I still can't believe it. So, how can I expect for you to accept all this in such a short period of time?" He pauses for a beat and then, continues, "I want you to know that I never intended to hurt you, Nicholas." "You hurt me by hurting my mother until it finally killed her," Nick returns the hurt to Burton, tenfold. "Hey, perhaps this is all happened for the best. Maybe your `situation,' Jason, will be the son you always wanted . . . a son you can be proud of . . . a son who can forgive you. After all, you were in love with HIS mother!" "What are you talking about? You are my son! I am extremely proud of you. I've known you since the day you were born," Burton speaks from the heart. "I know everything about you and nothing about Jason. I will NEVER have a relationship with him like the one I have with you." "God, I hope not!" Nick snaps back, completely unreceptive to anything his father has to say. "I don't even know the poor bastard, but no one deserves that!" "Okay, okay," Burton concedes as this dispute is only escalating. "It is obvious you are not ready to deal with this situation, not open to it. And that's okay. But Jason is a reality. He didn't ask for this situation; you didn't ask for this situation . . . but it is here, nevertheless. I take full responsibility for it, but I can't change the way things are. When you are ready to deal with this, son, let me know. You know where to find me." And Burton storms out of the office, leaving Nick with the residue from this morning's bombshell. The Incline August 15, 2002 6:30 p.m. Jake Straka and Nick are seated at the bar after a long day at the office. After the two day hangover Nick endured only last week, he's sticking to club soda and lime tonight. "Nick, you can't keep avoiding him. You're going to run into Jason sooner or later. It's only a matter of time," Jake points out to Nick." "Jason, who?" Nick flashes a sarcastic grin. "Did you know he passed the Louisiana Bar in June?" Jake continues to educate Nick on the subject of his new half-brother. "Yeeeehaw! Just what the world needs, another Southern lawyer straight from a Grisham novel," Nick muses, refusing to take this subject seriously. Jake, who is finished downing his second Scotch and soda, leans over to Nick. "You know what I think?" "No, what?" Nick asks. "I think your Dad wants Jason to stay here in Pittsburgh. I heard Burton speak to him about taking the Pennsylvania Bar," Jake reports, taking a cube of ice in his mouth from his now empty glass. "Really?" Nick is genuinely surprised, unable to think of a clever comeback for this one. Jake proceeds to order another drink from the bartender. "Hey, Nick, I have another question for you." "You are full of questions tonight, aren't you?" Nick tries to keep his mood light. "Okay, lay another one on me." By now, Jake is having fun quizzing the "Golden Boy of Fallin Associates" on the biggest office buzz since Nick, and then Lichtman, was arrested. "Have you seen Jason's fiancée, Gwendolyn? Oh, man, is she hot!" And Jake thumps his hands over his chest to imitate a fast beating heart, closes his eyes, and smiles as if he's died and gone to heaven. Nick can't help but laugh at Jake's antics. "No, I haven't," Nick answers, taking a sip of his club soda. "She has the biggest, green eyes I have ever seen in my life. They are hypnotic! And she has these long, long legs that go on for miles!" Jake laments. "Legs that go on for miles? I will definitely have to check her out," Nick raises his eyebrows and flashes a devilish smile at Jake. "Hey, she's your brother's fiancée," a now tipsy Jake takes joy in pointing out this small detail, hoping to put a damper on Nick's fun. "What else are brothers for? Don't think he would want to share such a beautiful creature with his new brother?" Nick nods, maintaining his devilish grin, and cracking Jake into a belly laugh. At this time, Barbara and Lulu enter the bar. They immediately spot Jake and Nick laughing away. The ladies walk over to their friends. "Hi guys. Want to join us at a table?" Barbara asks. "Or are you two perched here at the bar for the night?" "We'd love to join you lovely ladies," a still laughing Jake answers for Nick, too. After a few minutes, the four have relocated to a booth. Barbara and Jake are seated on one side with Nick and Lulu on the other. A waitress comes to the table and takes their drink order. "Oh, Nick," Lulu touches his hand to get his attention. "I was looking for you at Fallin Associates this afternoon. And your father introduced me to your brother. I didn't know you had a brother." Barbara looks immediately looks up, as this is news to her, too. "He didn't know he had a brother either," Jake is quick with the one- liners tonight. And he begins to bust up laughing. Nick smiles and gives Jake a courtesy laugh as the girls give Nick a look of confusion. "Jake is right. I didn't know I had a half-brother until a few days ago. My Dad didn't know he had another son until a couple of weeks ago," Nick explains with an emphasis on the word "half." "Wow, that must have been quite a shock," Barbara remarks. "He may be your half-brother, but he is your father's full fledged son. Are you okay with this, Nick?" Nick quietly nods, still keeping that grin plastered on his lips to hide what he is really thinking. The waitress returns, delivering a round of refreshments to the table. "Jason, that's his name, right? He is very charming and attractive. But he doesn't look anything like Nick," Lulu reports to Barbara, as she takes a sip of her drink, "except maybe in the eyes." "Down, girls. Sorry to break the news to you two, but Jason is engaged to this super hot lady," Jake chides. As he did earlier with Nick, he takes joy in spoiling fun. "Hey, I'm a happily married woman!" Lulu corrects Jake's insinuation. "My point was that I don't think Jason and you look very much alike." She is now addressing her remarks at directly Nick. "And that would be because Jason is charming and attractive . . . and I am not?" Nick makes an obvious attempt to sound wounded. "Oh, no, Nick. That's not what I meant," Lulu touches his arm again. "What I meant is that you and Jason are so different. You have blonde hair, his is very dark. Your eyes are a stormy gray blue, while his are a very clear blue. You are what I consider an average height and very well built, conditioned. Jason is very tall and thin. Your hair is curly. His is very straight," she explains. "You are both VERY attractive men, but you don't look anything alike . . . except through the eyes, as I mentioned before." "But I'm not charming?" Nick whines for affect. "No, you need to work on the charming part," Barbara interjects, pleased with her jab. "Jason has Southern charm to match his accent," Lulu adds. "You had better watch out for those Southerners," Nick warns Lulu; half kidding and half not. "Seriously folks, we're half brothers. I look a lot like my mother. And I suspect Jason looks like his mother. I've been told my whole life that I look like my Dad through the eyes and in some of my expressions," Nick explains. "That must be what you're seeing in Jason." "This is none of my business, but that has never stopped me from asking nosy questions before. Are you positive he really is your half brother," Barbara asks. "My Dad said they had DNA testing performed. So yes, he checked out as the real deal," Nick explains. "Wow, that is just incredible," Lulu comments, "to all of a sudden find out at the age of thirty-three you have a brother. You grew up as an only child, Nick, with not much of a family. Maybe this can turn out to be a good thing." --+-- Part 3 Nick Fallin's Residence August 16, 2002 1:00 a.m. Unable to sleep, Nick lies in bed on top of his covers with his fingers interlocked behind his head, staring up at the darkened bedroom ceiling. Not only is he unable to sleep; he can not manage to shake one beautiful Louisiana vision from his mind since he found out she is here in Pittsburgh. The woman from that run down house has a name, Gwendolyn; making his vision all the more real. Thoughts of her cause his mind to float away. He could steal Gwendolyn from his half-brother and claim her as his own, proving that Jason Benoit is no match for him. The idea of Jason losing Gwendolyn to him gives Nick a resurgence of power, and it feels good! Though he doesn't know Jason at all, Nick can't help but harbor a growing resentment of him because Jason has done the unthinkable. This young man walked into Nick's life after some 27 years . . . with a completely clean slate in Burton Fallin's eyes. Jason has never disappointed Burton, never made a mistake, or taken a fall. And even if he had, Burton wouldn't know. Unlike Nick, Jason has never hurt Burton in word or deed. Jason is the hope and the faith Burton once had in Nick. If all this isn't bad enough, Jason is engaged to the most stunning woman Nick has ever laid eyes upon. Soon to be married, the Benoits will undoubtedly provide Burton with beautiful grandchildren. His thoughts return to Gwen; to those eyes, those luscious green eyes. He could lie in the tall green grass of those eyes, lost forever. And Jake was right; her legs go on for miles. Legs are Nick's weakness. The thought of actually meeting his lovely infatuation face-to-face brings him to a heightened state of arousal. Their eyes meet, and he gazes into her green reflections longer than a future brother-in-law should. "Gwendolyn, I . . . I," he utters and takes down a hard swallow. Embarrassed that she caught him staring at her, Nick looks down. Then, he looks up and their eyes reconnect into that hungry, delicious stare. "I'm sorry." Their gaze continues. "Why are you sorry?" she asks, her Southern drawl absolutely enchanting. ". . . Because I'm staring at you. It's rude to star, but I can't take my eyes off of you" he confesses his weakness. "You are so beautiful; and I am so sorry," he apologizes yet again. She is wearing a light, clean fragrance which further intoxicates him. "Nick, you haven't done anything to be sorry for." "Oh, but if my thoughts were deeds . . . Do you have ANY idea what you are doing to me?" Before she can answer, Nick takes her hand into his and slowly lowers it into his lap so that she may feel the result of his desire. At the warmth of her touch, he lets out a low, involuntary moan. He is both pleased and relieved when she does not pull her hand away from him. Instead, she begins to lovingly stroke his impressive length. He leans over until he is face-to-face with his beautiful vision and gently places his mouth onto her full, luscious lips. She continues to gently stroke him. To stifle his moans of pleasure, he presses his lips into her fleshy mouth until their warm, moist tongues meet for the first time. Never has he tasted anything so sweet, so wonderful. He wraps his muscular arms around her, bringing her body closer to his. Gwen is receptive to his commanding embrace. Their kissing becomes more urgent now, as Nick lightly places one hand on the side of her face and combs his fingers through her shiny black hair. Her passion feeds off his. His hands explore her neck, her shoulders, and muscular back. Then, his hands move around to her breasts to caress their fullness. The more he experiences Gwendolyn, the more he wants. And she encourages his passionate appetite by uttering little sounds of approval. He moves even closer still, gently rubbing his straining desire against her thigh. "I have wanted a woman as badly as I want you." He makes his breathless declaration in between kisses. Gwen speaks with her eyes and reaches down to find his hardness growing and pulsating against the fabric of his pants. Mercifully, she unbuttons the top button of his trousers and slides down the zipper, freeing him with her hands. Nick closes his eyes and lets out a cry of relief from deep inside his throat. "I am aching to have you to be inside of me," she whispers in his ear. He stands over her and gently lays her long sultry body on the sofa. He can't help but admire her shapely body. She is absolutely breathtaking. After taking off his shirt, he helps her slip out of her jeans, then her lavender thong which is damp with her desire for him. Gwendolyn is more beautiful than he ever imagined she would be. She removes her shirt, and he frees her breasts from the matching lace bra. He buries his face between the two, firm milky white mounds. Brushing his fingers against her opening, he finds her oozing with desire, and he gently inserts one fingertip. His touch causes her to let out a primitive moan, and she begins to move against his hand in an attempt for more. He inserts another finger and then another. Her taught muscles tighten around his fingers, as her juices continue to flow. "Nick," she pleads, ready for him. "I ache to have you inside me. I want you . . . now." And she pulls him down to her. "Gwendolyn, I . . . I don't have any condoms here," he suddenly remembers at this most inopportune time. "Do you?" Long past the point of no return, he is very aware of a strange and powerful desire to impregnate Gwen right here and now. Never before has he experienced such a forceful, biological urge. So primal is his desire to mate and procreate with this woman, his desire pulsates in alternating waves of pleasure and pain that can only be relieved by the release of his seed deep within her waiting womb. "You don't have AIDS or any other disease, do you?" Gwendolyn asks with moderate concern in her voice. Her lilting accent makes her sound younger and more naïve than her years. "No," Nick answers softly, gazing into her magnificent green eyes. His fingers continue to prepare her for their inevitable union. "Neither do I," she assures him, breathlessly and resumes kissing him. "Now, Nick. Please take me, now." And she surrounds his throbbing desire with her fingers. He closes his eyes and moans at the pleasure of her warm squeezing touch, as he positions himself above her. He gazes into those green pools again, ready to mount her. Slowly, she guides him into the warm, pulsating entrance to her womb. Their initial, intimate contact generates the most intense sexual pleasure either has ever known. A simultaneous spark of their chemical intensity literally takes their breath away. "Gwendolyn . . . Oh, Gwendolyn," Nick gasps, whispering her name over and over again into her ear, while she adjusts her position so that she can take even more of him. Gwen glides her hands over his firm, muscular shoulders and down his back. Once she reaches the small of his back, she grabs his buttocks. Using his body as leverage, she positions her legs high above his waist, allowing him even deeper access as she passionately counters his every thrust. Soon, their movements become one of flowing unison, increasing their carnal pleasure. Not wanting their pleasure to end, Nick decelerates the pace of their lovemaking to one of slow, delicious torture until Gwendolyn can no longer hold on. Rhythmic, internal contractions signal her imminent release, and she wants to take him with her. She frantically kisses his face, searching for his wonderful mouth. "Do I feel as good to you, as you feel to me?" she manages to ask in a whisper. Then, she kisses him again, swirling her tongue into his hungry mouth. "Mmmm, even better," he moans into her mouth. And then, they begin their most passionate kiss yet, while he makes long, deliberate thrusts in between her pulsations. He times his movement with her sweet contractions until he is able to ride the cresting waves of her pleasure. "Oh, Nick!" she cries as her waves build into one huge summit which crashes violently into a sea of ecstasy. Her body's climactic rhythms suckle the life from his aching groin and into her waiting womb. Holding onto one another for dear life, he buries his face into her shoulder at the moment of his surrender so as to muffle his cries of his intense release. A once in a lifetime experience! Then gradually, Nick becomes painfully aware that while he is deliciously tired and spent . . . he is very much alone in his bed, in his room. His auto erotic experience with Gwendolyn was just that . . . and nothing more. He shakes his head, in disbelief of the intensity of this imaginary encounter with Gwendolyn. What is this thing I have with being attracted to engaged women . . . first Lulu and now Gwen? As he drifts off to sleep, he can not help but ponder how easy it would be to turn his powerful infatuation with Jason's fiancé into reality. Fallin Associates August 16, 2002 8:15 a.m. "Dad?" Nick knocks on the door and tentatively cranes his head into the office of his estranged father. It's been days since he's uttered a word to Burton Fallin. "Could I see you for a few minutes?" "Nicholas," Burton looks up from reading a file at his desk and a look of surprise comes over his face. "Of course you can come in." Burton makes a gesture for Nick to take a seat in front of his desk. Nick closes the door and begins to speak as he walks closer to his father, but he prefers to stand. That way, if this conversation goes badly, he can quickly decide to make an exit. "Is it true you've asked Jason to consider staying here in Pittsburgh to take the Pennsylvania Bar?" Nick asks, deliberately keeping his emotions on an even keel. "Where did you hear that?" Burton raises his eyebrow. Although Nick's question contains correct information, he is interested in who is spreading his personal business around the office. "Evidently, you were overheard speaking with Jason," Nick explains. "Your conversation with him has pretty well filtered throughout the firm. It even filtered down to me," he continues to explain, as he would never give Jake up. Jake had more than proved his loyalty to both Fallins during Nick's arrest for Mandy Gressler's death. Although Burton is irritated upon hearing he is the subject of gossip within his own firm, he proceeds to answer Nick's question, "Well, it's really no secret. I would like to have more time to get to know Jason. He's a nice kid, smart too! You would find that out for yourself if you would take the time to get to know him," Burton suggests. "I've been thinking about things," Nick says. "Jason is a complete innocent party." And yet, he's a very real threat. "I guess it wouldn't do any harm to at least talk to him." A smile comes over Burton's face. "Well, that's wonderful. I'm glad to hear it. Jason and his fiancée, Gwendolyn, are staying with me. Why don't you come by tonight for an early dinner so you can spend some time, get to know them. They are such an impressive young couple." Burton goes for the close while Nick is agreeable. "Can you come over at about 6:30?" "Sure, Dad," Nick shakes his head and smiles. "6:30 it is." Burton Fallin's Residence August 16, 2002 6:40 p.m. "Nick, can I get you something to drink?" Burton offers from just inside the terrace. On this warm summer evening, dinner is being served al fresco. "I have some water here. That will be fine." And he turns his attention to the young couple seated on the other side of the table. "So, how long will you be staying in Pittsburgh?" Nick asks Jason. He studies the young man's face and demeanor. Lulu is right; his eyes are a clear blue. "We were planning to return to New Orleans this weekend, but Burton has asked us to stay on for awhile longer," Jason answers in between bites of his salad. To his right, Gwendolyn Adair appears to be frustrated with this news. Immediately picking up on the tension, Nick sees an opportunity to get to know this gorgeous woman better. "Are you enjoying your stay, Gwendolyn?" Nick looks across into her deep green eyes lined with darkened lashes. "Um, yes," she remarks, not completely open to answering his question in full. Jason finishes her answer for her. "I think Gwendolyn is getting a little bored staying here at the house while Burton and I are at the office. And we've had several meetings that have gone quite late into the night," Jason continues. "But you know how it is, don't you Nick?" "As a matter of fact," Burton walks back onto the terrace carrying a large platter of antipasto, "we have another meeting scheduled tomorrow evening." He is directing his remarks to Jason. "Of course, Nick, you're welcome to join us if you wish. Maybe we three guys could go out afterwards." "I'm sorry, but I have a prior commitment for tomorrow night. A colleague gave me tickets to the opera. It's one of those things where feel I need to make an appearance," he explains to his father. "And who knows? I may enjoy it," Nick quips, raising his eyebrows to widen his eyes. The truth is Nick has no interest in meeting with these two. Then, Nick looks up at Jason. "Do you think it would be okay for Gwendolyn to join me? That is, if she would be interested in accompanying me?" Jason looks at Gwendolyn. "Well, that would be entirely up to Gwen of course, but I think that is a very kind offer." Nick next looks over at Gwendolyn. "Would you like to accompany me? It might beat sitting here alone tomorrow night." "Thank you, Nick," she replies, a slight smile turns the corners of her mouth. "I would love to," she graciously accepts his invitation. "That's splendid!" Burton exclaims. It is difficult for him to hide his pleasure at seeing his oldest son open up to Jason and Gwendolyn. "And maybe we guys can get together another time, very soon." Nick politely nods in agreement; though in his heart, he has no intention of socializing with his Dad and Jason. He is complete taken with Gwendolyn Adair. --+-- Part 4 Pittsburgh Symphony Heinz Hall August 17, 2003 10:45 p.m. The stage is set for the death scene in Act IV. An Italian bass performs "Vecchia Zimarra," from La Boheme. Gwendolyn Adair is seated next to Nicholas Fallin in the private balcony at center stage, the best seats in the house. As the aria builds to its crescendo, Nick glances over at his invited guest who is finely appointed from head to toe in a lavender couture gown that perfectly compliments her skin and eyes, not to mention her curves. Her dark hair cascades down over her shoulders, clipped at the side with a sparkling barrette. To match her lavender gown, she even smells of romantic lavender. This morning, Burton insisted she go shopping for the occasion, giving her total carte blanche. Not only did she buy her gown, matching shoes and bag, she had her hair and makeup done as well. Tonight, she is an absolute vision of beauty, intoxicating Nick by her sight and smell. Nick nervously fidgets with his bow tie and the cummerbund of his tuxedo as he waits for the aria to come to an end. Finally the end comes, and a wave of applause streams from the floor below. The sold out crowd is soon on its feet as a standing ovation begins. Nick assists Gwen with the train of her gown when she stands so that she may join in with the audience's show of approval. She is smiling as she furiously claps her gloved hands. He smiles at her. "Did you enjoy the show?" he attempts to ask over the roaring noise. "What?" she mouths, unable to hear anything but another wave of applause. Nick signals with his hand for her to wait a minute. After a second curtain call, the applause finally begins to subside. He then gently touches her silky bare shoulder in order to get her attention. "I asked if you enjoyed the show," he repeats in her ear, with a smile still on his face and his eyes twinkling. "Oh, yes. It was absolutely marvelous!" she answers with an animated face. "What a fine company you have in Pittsburgh!" "Do you not have an equally fine company in New Orleans?" he asks, still clapping, only much softer now. "I wouldn't know. I've never been to the opera before," Gwen coyly admits. "But I've listened to recordings; I've listened to many operatic recordings over the years. Your orchestra and singers are simply world class," she smiles, as her eyes twinkle as well. Her lilting accent only adds to her appeal, and Nick is impressed by her interest in the arts. "Say, you're not ready to go home yet, are you?" he returns her smile again. Nick can't stop smiling. Neither can Gwendolyn. Tonight, she feels like Cinderella. She glances at her watch, and finds that it is only 11:00. "No, not really. But I do need to call Jason and let him know what time to expect me," she answers with that dazzling smile still on her face. "We can call him on my cell phone when we get to the lobby," Nick assures her and holds out his elbow so that he may escort this gorgeous lady out of the auditorium. Le Pommier Restaurant August 18, 2002 12:45 a.m. Nick and Gwen are seated in a dark, cozy booth in the corner of Le Pommier, one of Pittsburgh's finest restaurants. Candlelight from the center of the table glows onto their faces, adding sparkle to their eyes. The conversation is as sparkling as their respective bubbly refreshment; Nick nurses a club soda with a lime twist while Gwen sips from her glass of Dom Perignon. "So you see, I am not a fan of seafood, but I just didn't have the heart to tell your father," she giggles, telling Nick her little secret from the other night at dinner. Her laughter is melodic. "Your secret is safe with me, although keeping it could be to your detriment. I mean, Dad will cook salmon for you again only because he thinks you like it," Nick tries to stifle his laugh. It feels good to laugh. Since Mandy Gressler died at his home and he was charged with furnishing her drugs, there has been little laughter in his life. "Hmmmm, perhaps I had better rethink this," she giggles, as Nick refills her glass with more of the bubbling elixir. Nick is quite pleased with himself. It seems as if his plan to get Gwendolyn tipsy is working perfectly. She takes to the bubbly like the bee to a flower. "You know what, Nick?" she asks with the most beautiful smile on her face. "I haven't had this much fun since we arrived in Pittsburgh." And she takes yet another sip from her glass. "I take it you've been doing a lot of waiting for Dad and Jason?" he asks with smooth sympathy in his voice. "Well, it's only natural that they would want to spend time together. They have so much talk about, you know, so much catching up to do," she explains in an equally sympathetic manner. "Did you know Jason's mother?" Nick asks, running his finger along the rim of his glass. "Yes, I did. Dominique Benoit was such a fine woman, almost like a mother to me. Jason and I both miss her very much," she responds with open candor, her face aglow in the candlelight. "This is my mother, Anne. She was a wonderful woman, too," Nick nods, reaching for his wallet, "and I miss her very much." He pulls out an old photograph with tattered edges and hands it to Gwen. " Gwen recalls Burton told her and Jason that Nick's mother died when he was quite young. She gasps as she carefully takes to photograph. "She was so pretty. You have her eyes and her coloring," Gwen remarks, staring at the picture. Then she looks up. "She had beautiful eyes." "It sounds as if my Dad had excellent taste in women," he replies, trying to make light of his father's infidelity. Taking the photo back from Gwen, he lovingly places it back into his wallet. "So does my new-found brother," Nick remarks as he raises his glass to toast his beautiful guest. "Why thank you," Gwen blushes at the compliment. "You are just as charming as your father. It is obvious to me now where Jason gets his charm." "Not to mention his good looks," Nick winks in jest. "I will second that, sir," Gwen remarks, returning a toast to her eloquent, handsome date and letting out another little giggle. "I am having such a wonderful time," she repeats her earlier sentiment. "I wish this night would never end," she smiles at Nick. "The night is young," Nick returns her smile. "May I ask the lady to dance?" And he stands at her side of the booth and gallantly extends his hand. She takes his hand in hers and stands, and they make their way to the dance floor. They make such a striking couple; all eyes are on them as they begin to dance to Under My Skin. Nick continues to hold Gwen's hand. She places her other hand on Nick's shoulder, and he places his tightly around her tiny waist. Their eyes meet, only inches away from one another. Nick can feel his heat rising, just as he did in his fantasy last night. At just the right moment in the song, he twirls the beautiful lady around for all to see. "Whoa," she murmurs and holds onto him very tightly, so as not to fall. "I think we'd better slow down. I think I've had a little too much to drink," she admits. The look on her face confirms she is dizzy. "I'm sorry," Nick apologizes. "I'll slow down. We'll take it nice and easy." And he takes her firmly into his arms, as they gently sway to and fro. In a moment, the dizzy look on her face disappears, and she loosens her steady grip from Nick's shoulder. He looks into her green eyes. "Are you feeling better?" he asks, hoping she is. "Much," she nods. Suddenly, the music changes to a slow, smoky rendition of Moon River. Nick uses the change in tempo as his opportunity to get to know his vision better. He starts by moving in a little closer. "So, how do you like Pittsburgh now?" he asks, his eyes gleam under the low lights. "Just fine . . . I like it just fine," and she gives him another one of those exquisite little smiles. "I know Jason has things to do, but I don't know how he could ever leave someone as lovely as you . . . even for a minute," he almost whispers in a tone as smoky as the music. She blushes again and gives a tight-mouthed grin. She realizes she is becoming helpless as she gazes into his blue-grey soul. "I mean, Gwendolyn, you are the most stunning woman I've ever laid eyes upon." There, he said it, just as he did in his fantasy. Gwen is intoxicated from too much excitement, too much champagne, and too much flattery. She is so relaxed that any inhibitions she may have had are leaving her. She looks at Nick through dreamy eyes. Their bodies sway together in time to the music, back and forth, closer than they should be. And yet she can not move away from him. She does not want to move. Nick moves even closer until they are dancing cheek to cheek. She is aware of a waft of his aftershave and his warm body pressing up against hers, and she melts into him as the music continues to take them away. The musical selection fades into another slow and sultry tune, appropriately entitled, Hello Young Lovers. Neither moves from this warm embrace until finally, Nick takes Gwen's delicate face into his hands. They become lost in one another's gaze. It is as if they are all alone on the crowded dance floor. Nick looks into her half closed eyes and leans down to kiss her. Their lips touch one another's until the taste of the sweet grape and lime mixed with lust swirls over their tongues and into their mouths. This kiss is even better than the one Nick imagined last night. There, in the middle of the dance floor, he holds her tight as they stop moving. Their kiss becomes deliberate and hungry with passion, until finally, Gwen has to break away from him. "I can't," she pleads to him with her eyes. "I just can't do this." Breathless, Nick looks longingly at her. "Gwen, that kiss . . . your kiss tells me that you . . . you are just as drawn to me as I am to you." "Oh, Nick," her voice quivers and her emerald eyes begin to well with tears. "I find you to be INCREDIBLY attractive and irresistible. But I can't. I love Jason; we're going to be married." Her eyes glimmer as they fill with tears. "But you're NOT married," Nick protests, trying to keep his voice down. "Do you believe in fate? Maybe we were supposed to meet before you married? If Jason was the right man for you, would I make you feel this?" And he takes her into his arm and kisses her more passionately than she has ever been kissed. She feels his hardened desire for her rise, pressing into her lower abdomen. Her head reels in intoxicated confusion, while her body reacts to his with a deep longing she's never known. When their endless kiss finally ends, Gwen looks into Nick's smoky eyes. She could easily fall in love with him. His attorney's argument is making quite an impact on her, except for one obvious fact. "Jason is your brother," Gwen begins to softly cry. Nick gently shepherds her off the dance floor and into a darkened corner of the room. "I never even knew Jason existed until a little more than a week ago," Nick tries desperately to explain. "While it's true we share part of a common genetic code; that is all we share. He is a stranger to me. I don't know him . . . he doesn't feel like my brother!" Now it is Nick who has tears welling up in his eyes. "Gwen, I am so sorry," he offers. "I never meant to fall in love with you." After experiencing tonight with her, in real life, he knows this is love. So taken by the love shining through his eyes, she holds him. They hold one another, until she feels more of his primal stirrings . . . and it frightens her. She quickly breaks free of their embrace. "Look, I have to go," she shakes her head, visibly shaken. "I have to go," she repeats to herself over and over again. "Uh, I'll drive you to my Dad's house," Nick follows her as she quickly heads toward the exit of the restaurant. "No, no. I'll take a cab," she insists, walking ahead of him. "Please, Gwen. I'm sorry. There's no reason to take a cab," he pleads. "I swear; I will behave." Despite a pang of hesitancy, she agrees to ride back with him. They stand together in a thickening silence while they wait at the valet stand. After what seems like ions, the valet brings Nick's BMW around and opens the door for Gwen while Nick walks around to the driver's side. Once inside, he slowly pulls the car forward to the end of the driveway and then, stops the car and turns off the ignition. "Gwen, I didn't mean to upset you," he says softly, staying well within his side of the car. "Please accept my apology." "It wasn't just you," she holds her head in her hand. "I really think it would be best if we never see each other again, at least not alone." "Then . . . you feel it too, don't you?" he asks her. After a pause with no answer from her, he continues, "How can you just walk away . . . without ever knowing what you would be giving up?" "Because I would never know," Gwen quietly sobs. "If we stop this, I would never know." "But you do know! You wanted me as badly as I want you. And if you deny it, you would be living a lie with Jason," Nick continues to plead his case. Having no come-back, Gwen grabs the door handle, ready to exit the car. "But Nick presses the automatic door locks so that she can not leave. She looks at him with panic on her face. "Before you go, you have to know two things. First, I'm in love with you Gwen. I've never been so in love with anyone in my entire life. But second, because I love you, I'll do whatever you want me to do." And he hangs his head, steeling himself for her response. "I don't know you, Nick," she quietly speaks. "And you don't know me." "I know all I need to know," he quickly rebounds. She lets out an exasperating sigh. "It is true that I'm physically attracted to you, but that's all it is. There is so much more to a relationship than just the physical. I love Jason, and I . . ." Nick skillfully interrupts her. "But are you IN love with Jason?" "No," she thoughtfully answers. "I suppose we're past that phase of our relationship. But I DO love him, Nick." "Does he set your soul on fire? Does he make you ache inside? Does he want you more than anything?" he asks her with fire in his eyes. Gwen is astounded at what she is hearing and stares deep into him. Their eyes begin a seductive dance until Nick finally leans over and takes her into his arms. He kisses her passionately, on her face and down her neck. Their bodies respond to one another's touch, melting comfortably into the warmth of mutual want. Panting with desire, Nick manages to speak in between kisses, "I live nearby. Please come home with me." In her ear his whispers, "I want to make love to you all night; I want to make love to you for the rest of your life." Gwen swallows hard and nods, indicating her agreement to go with him. Her body burns to join with his, and she runs her fingers through his blonde, curly hair. She guides his hungry kisses down her neck, to her throat, and then down to her cleavage. Nick positions himself over the gearshift to a better angle. But just as he begins to take her magnificent breasts into his hands and devour them, she summons every ounce of strength and self control. "No," she shouts sternly to herself, pushing him off of her and back toward his seat. "I'm sorry. But I can't do this. I won't do this!" Breathless, she looks Nick dead in the eye, and she orders, "Let me out of the car." Taken aback, he carefully responds, "Gwen, I told you I will do whatever you want me to do. I will even promise to leave you alone if that is what you truly want." He takes in a deep breath. "I'll drive you to my Dad's house now, okay?" "No . . . please! Let me out of the car, now. I'll take a cab." And she pulls on the locked door handle. Frustrated to find she is still locked in his car, her feelings of passion toward this man suddenly turn into feelings of anger. Again, she looks him in the eye and speaks as if she means business. "I don't ever want to see you again, understand? Now, let me out of this damn car!" Nick immediately releases the door lock, as this woman storm out of his car. "My God, I'm sorry!" Nick shouts out through the now empty passenger side of the car. From his rear car window, he watches Gwendolyn walk back toward the valet's stand where a uniformed young man quickly hails her a cab. In less than a moment, she is gone, vanishing from him just as she did last night in his dreams. --+-- Part 5 Residence of Nicholas Fallin August 18, 2002 8:30 a.m. The loud noise awakens Nick from a sound sleep. Lying in bed, he is still drowsy from his late night out. He is so drowsy, he begins to drift back to sleep when all of a sudden, There it is again. Gradually, he becomes aware that someone is banging on his front door. And whoever it is, he or she is persistent. Glancing at the clock on his night stand, he stumbles out of bed. <8:30 a.m. Damn, I'm late for work! Oh, wait a minute . . . . It's Sunday.> From the hook on the back of his bedroom door, he hastily grabs his terry cloth robe and slips it on over his boxer shorts. "Jeez! Would you stop beating my door down?" he yells toward the front door, as he makes his way down the staircase in bare feet. "It's me," a familiar voice shouts from the other side of the closed door. "Dad?" Nick as he approaches the entry way. "Yeah, Nick," Burton answers from the other side. "Open the door. I need to speak with you, now!" Nick quickly unlocks several latches and swings the door wide open to find his father standing there in a distraught state. "What's wrong, Dad? Why didn't you call before coming over?" Nick is still groggy as his hair is mussed, and he is very surprised by the unannounced visit. "I did call. You didn't answer your phone," Burton explains. Standing there with his hands in the pockets of his red and grey sweat suit, Burton asks, "Can I come in?" "Sure," Nick responds and steps aside so that his father can enter his home. He follows his father into the living room. Once inside, Burton abruptly turns to his son and asks, "What in the hell did you do last night?" Nick's face reflects his shock upon hear the question. "What are you talking about?" Nick answers with a question of his own. "You know damn well what I'm talking about," Burton snaps back. "What the hell were you thinking . . . making a pass at Gwendolyn? What? Were you drunk? Were you high last night, Nick?" Nick looks down and takes in a deep breath. "No, I was not drinking. I was not using drugs," he answers and glares at his father with a look of cold steel in response to the insinuation. Burton's accusation of substance abuse only confirms Nick's suspicion of just how little trust remains between them. "Well, what about making a pass at Gwen?" Burton continues, as if he is cross examining a witness. "Dad," Nick tries to offer an explanation. "I wasn't making a pass. I wouldn't do that to her. I think . . . I'm in love with her," he says flatly, looking away for a moment and then making eye contact while he waits for his father's reaction. Burton searches his son's eyes in disbelief. "Son, Gwen came back to the house last night, and she was very upset. This morning, Jason told me what happened. She told him everything." "She told him everything?" Nick is confused. "If she told him EVERYTHING, then she did not tell him I make a pass at her. Dad, she was . . . she has feelings for me, too. And besides, nothing happened last night. Nothing!" "Jason said Gwen told him that you fed her drinks and tried to take advantage of her," Burton insisted, trying to give some validity to his unannounced visit. "Oh, Jeez," Nick hisses. "Gwen is a grown woman. She ordered champagne to drink, while I stuck to club soda. It was her idea to go out after the performance, after she called and . . . and found you and Jason weren't home yet. So, I took her out . . . I tried to entertain her . . . and now, I'm the bad guy?" Nick recants the night's events. "You just told me you are in love with this girl!" Burton fires back. "There must have been more to it than what you are telling me." In frustration, Burton rubs his chin with his hand. "The point is, it was WRONG for you to come onto your brother's fiancé! Jason trusted you with Gwendolyn. Families don't do this sort of thing to one another." Now, Nick's feelings turn to anger. "Okay, first of all, Jason is YOUR family, not mine. And second, you're one to talk about what families do and don't do to one another! You claim you loved my mother. And yet, you cheated on her with . . . with Jacqueline, who you also claim to love. No one told you who to love, did they?" "Well, maybe someone should have," Burton shakes his head. "But that is beside the point. My mistakes in life are no excuse for yours." Nick shakes his head in disagreement. "That is because you are the only one who is allowed to make a mistake." "Let's not go there. Let's stay on point," Burton insists in true attorney fashion. "We're talking about you and Gwendolyn. Jason wanted to come over here at 3 o'clock this morning and kick your ass. And I can't say that I blame him." Burton then looks down his nose at his son, "You need to be a man and work this out with him. And you also need to apologize to Gwen." With a look of disgust on his face, Nick stands before his father with his arms folded in front of his chest. Then, he shakes his head. "You can't ignore this, son. I know you don't want to deal with this, but you're going to have to," Burton pleads. He knows his son's signs of shutting himself down all too well. Nick clenches his jaw, tightening his mouth shut and stares down at the ground with his arms still folded in front of him. His body language says it all: Nick Fallin is finished with this conversation. After several moments of silence, Burton lets out a heavy sigh of defeat and heads for the front door. But as he opens the door to leave, he turns and says, "As I said, you can't ignore this." Once the door is shut, from the window Nick watches his father storm away, down the walkway to his car. Enroute to Fallin Associates August 19, 2003 7:30 a.m. Behind the wheel of his BMW, Nick drives the familiar route to the office. He is so familiar with the route that he is on automatic pilot this morning. With his hand over the warm cup of latte placed in the cup holder in the center console, he is deep in thought. He can't get Gwendolyn out of his head. She's all he's been able to think about for the past week. The constant longing to be with her has convinced Nick he is suffering from one of two things. Either he is madly, hopelessly in love with this woman, or he is madly, hopelessly in love with this woman. Yet either way, he is miserable because he doesn't have her. The exquisite vision of Gwen in that beautiful lavender gown is an image that stays with him. He remembers everything about her that night, how she captured all his senses. He can still smell her lavender scent, feel her silky skin, and taste her sweet mouth. He remembers gazing into her endless green eyes, those beautiful eyes. As long as he lives, he will never gaze into eyes more beautiful than hers. He wants to have her, hold her, and make love to her. He wants to marry her and have lots and lots of children. He wants to love her and make her happy, as happy as she makes him. But somehow, Gwendolyn is different. He remembers how she kissed him. She felt it too, the undeniable, smoldering attraction between them. He's just got to be able to convince her to see him again. There has to be a way for the two of them to be together. Reality creeps into his thoughts and before he knows it, Nick arrives at the parking structure of his office building. He takes his card key from the visor and inserts it into the gate. Once he is allowed entrance, he drives his car down one level and around to his designated parking place. Shutting off the ignition, he grabs his briefcase from the backseat and his latte and closes the car door. A sharp chirp echoes through the concrete structure to let him know that his car is alarmed. He then proceeds to street level and onto the entrance of the office building. As he walks toward the double doors, he is approached from the sidewalk by Jason Benoit. "Nick," Jason shouts. "I need to speak with you." Nick turns toward Jason. "But I don't want to speak with you." "You have a lot of nerve hitting on my finance!" Jason's voice is still raised. Nick turns away and continues to the walk toward the entrance of the building. "Don't you walk away from me!" Jason orders, and he places his hand on Nick's shoulder and pulls him back toward the outside entrance to the building. "You owe me an explanation." "I don't owe you anything. I don't even know you," Nick locks eyes the taller man. He sees anger in those eyes. "Oh, so you think that as long as you don't know me, it's okay for you to come onto Gwen?" Jason quips. "Where I come from, when a man tries to take another man's woman, he's asking to have his head knocked off," he informs his shorter half-brother. "I didn't realize women were property," Nick returns the fire. "Women are capable of making up their own minds." "What are you talking about?" Jason rhetorically asks. "Gwen is to be my wife. She loves ME." "I hate to be the one to tell you, but that's not true," Nick answers with steely eyes. His steely eyes are still locked Jason's clear blue eyes which are smoking with ire. "There's only one civilized thing to do," Nick coolly suggests. "I think we both need to sit down with Gwendolyn." "Gwen told me that she never wants to see you again," Jason stabs him with his words. "That's because of the feelings she has for me," Nick deflects Jason's verbal attack by offering an alternative explanation. "How could you possibly marry a woman who has such strong feelings for another man? It seems as though you of all people would want to get to the bottom of this." The two young men, two half-brothers not by choice stand in front of the tall skyscraper among the bustle of people entering the building on their way to work. Oblivious to the others, Nick and Jason are engrossed in their argument, though they try to keep their voices down. When arguing as lawyers naturally will, Jason is much like Nick in that he can not keep still. While the mind is working, so must the body. And the two young men pace and move to and fro, talking with their hands, talking with their bodies. Then suddenly, from across the street, a single gunshot whizzes by Nick's ear. He notices the look on Jason's face turns from anger to shock, and then, to utter disbelief. In the slow motion that comes from the heightened flow of adrenaline, Nick watches as Jason looses his footing and flies backwards, down toward the concrete. Nick grabs the young man and helps to ease him to the ground, as high pitched screams begin to fill his ears. People scurry in search of cover. Then, still in slow motion, Nick sees the blood gushing from the side of Jason's head. Jason's wide eyed stare locks with Nick's. It is as if his eyes are asking Nick if he is alright. Nick's eyes are just as wide and are filled with terror. They seem to answer that he doesn't know . . . he just doesn't know. The instant he secures Jason on the ground, Nick stays crouched down near his downed half-brother. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his cell phone, and dials "911." "Please, we need an ambulance," he pants into the cell. "A man has been shot in front of my office building. Yes . . . yes, my name is Nicholas Fallin!" Nick continues to give information to the operator while he simultaneously pulls off his suit coat and covers Jason with it in an effort to keep him warm. By this time, the guards from the office building begin to push back a gathering crowd. Nick bends down and grabs Jason's hand. Jason's coloring is ashen and his eyes are losing the light behind them. Jason lies in a pool of blood, as he is bleeding profusely from the gaping hole in the side of his head. "You hang in there, man," Nick swallows, trying to be keep his voice calm. "An ambulance is on its way." As soon as those words leave Nick's mouth, a fast approaching siren can be heard echoing through the city streets. "Hang in there, you hear me?" Nick repeats. But he can see the man is failing before his eyes. In less than a minute, paramedics are on the scene and begin to administer aid to Jason. Nick proceeds to give the paramedics some basic information. Then, he reaches for his cell phone again, as he can not put this off any longer. He has to call his father and tell him that the son he just found has been shot and lies mortally wounded. --+-- Part 6 Outside the Frick Building August 19, 2003 8:05 a.m. The diminishing wail of the ambulance's siren bounces off the buildings in downtown Pittsburgh, as Jason Benoit is whisked away to the nearest trauma center. At the same time, Burton Fallin races out of the building and stops in the middle of the outside entryway, searching a sea of people for his first born. Nick sees his father first and begins to make his way over to him. "Dad," Nick shouts through the growing crowd of lookers. "Nick," Burton's response is barely audible; his face is ashen with shock from the news Nick gave him only minutes before. "Where's Jason?" "On his way to Allegheny General. The ambulance just left. C'mon. I'll take you to the hospital," Nick offers as he takes his stricken father by the arm. "Are you alright?" Burton suddenly asks in a panic and motions to the front of Nick's clothing. There is blood splattered all over Nick's suit, shirt and tie, Jason's blood. Unbeknownst to Nick, there is also blood splattered on his face. "I'm fine," he answers. "Honest." He gives his father's arm a reassuring nod. In a long and heavy silence, the two men make their way to the parking garage and drive away. Their silence continues for some time until Burton finally breaks it. "Gwen. Has anyone called Gwen?" Burton asks as the thought suddenly occurs to him. "After I take you to the hospital, I'll go and get Gwen and bring her there," Nick offers and takes a hard swallow. It had been hard for Nick to tell Burton about Jason; it will be even harder to tell Gwendolyn. Burton nods his head and returns to his private thoughts and prayers. In less than a minute, they arrive at the hospital. Nick squeals the car into a parking place, and the two men run into the emergency entrance. "An ambulance just arrived here with a shooting victim . . . a gunshot wound to the head," Burton explains to a young woman at the front desk. "Are you related to the victim?" the woman asks. "Yes, I'm the boy's father," Burton responds, with tears welling up in his eyes. "Wait here," the woman instructs. "I'll see what I can find out." Burton's fingers nervously drum over the countertop when a man in green scrubs walks up behind him. "Mr. Benoit?" the man asks. "No, I'm Burton Fallin," Burton answers. He can see the man is a doctor from his name tag. He automatically extends his hand. "I AM Jason's father." Nick nods his head in agreement as a gesture of support. The doctor quickly returns the nod to indicate that he understands. "I'm Dr. Mendoza. Mr. Benoit sustained a single gunshot wound to the head . . . but no exit wound. He arrived here in critical condition. The bleeding was massive. He's in surgery now to try and stop the bleeding." Burton and Nick hang onto the doctor's every word. "I can take you up to the surgical waiting room on the 5th floor. Someone will come out and talk to you as soon as it is possible," the doctor offers. "Dad, you go ahead," Nick stops them from walking towards the elevators. "I'll go and get Gwen." Burton nods in agreement and follows the doctor down the corridor as Nick walks in the other direction, heading for the parking lot. But before they can reach their respective destinations, three uniformed police officers approach them. "Mister Fallin," one of the officers vies for their attention. Both immediately turn around. "We understand you know the victim, and that you were with him when the shot was fired," the first approaching officer explains, pointing to Nick. "That's right," Burton takes the lead. "I'm Jason's father. And this is my other son, Nicholas." "We need to ask you both a few questions," the officer further explains. "We realize this is a bad time for the family, so we'll try and keep it brief." "Of course," Nick replies. Then, Burton interrupts, "Before we get started, Nick was on his way to tell Jason's fiancé about the shooting and to bring her to the hospital." "If you'll give me her address, I'll tell her and bring her here," a second officer offers. Burton proceeds to give the officer his address. "I'll be back in a few minutes," Dr. Mendoza excuses himself as the two remaining officers lead Nick and Burton a little further down the corridor to a more private area. The first officer begins the questioning, staring directly at Nick, "Witnesses at the scene tell us that you and Mr. Benoit were arguing before the shooting." Burton lets out a sigh as if to steel himself for what is to come. Based on Nicholas' history with the police and the way he's been behaving lately, there is no telling. "Yes," Nick agrees. "That is true, but the argument didn't have anything to do with this shooting." "Mind telling me what the argument was about?" the other officer asks. Nick senses the officer already knows the answer to his own question. "Once again, our argument had nothing to do with the shooting," Nick insists. "As a matter of fact, that bullet came within inches of hitting me." Burton is relieved to hear Nick deny his involvement. Nick's recent behavior has been so bizarre that he couldn't be one hundred percent certain Nick wasn't involved, until now. "Do either of you know of anyone who would target Jason or you, Mr. Fallin?" The first officer is referring to Nick. Burton lets out another sigh. "It is no secret that I was involved with the recent case involving Senator Caldwell and Mitchell Lichtman," Burton explains. "You can check with the local FBI office. They will substantiate the fact that I have enemies." "Have either one of you ever been threatened?" the first officer continues. "No, not exactly," Burton stoically answers. "But when one turns State's evidence against organized crime, retaliation becomes a more than a plausible possibility." He looks down his nose at the officer to convey that he is very serious. "That's all the questions we have for now," the other office interjects. "Please give us a call if you think of anything else you think might be helpful. And we'll be in touch if we need to speak to you further." The officer hands each man a card. Burton places a protective arm around Nick's shoulders and leads him to the elevator. Allegheny General 5th Floor Waiting Room August 19, 2003 10:45 a.m. Nick and Burton sit in the corner of the small waiting room. Jason has been in surgery for almost two hours with no word yet from the hospital staff. Burton sits forward in the chair with his face is buried in his hands. He finally looks up and turns to Nick. "So the two of you were arguing this morning?" he wants to know. "Jason wanted to talk about Saturday night," Nick answers flatly. "You said it yourself. I had to work it out with him. That is what we were trying to do." Just then, Burton's cell phone rings. He reaches into his breast pocket and answers the call. After several minutes of "uh-huh's" and "oh's," Burton instructs the caller to call the police, immediately. After Burton disconnects the call, he returns his attention to Nick. "That was Sheila. She said she took a phone call a few minutes ago from a man who wanted to let me know that the best way to get to me was through my son." Burton grimaces as he continues recanting the conversation with his assistant. "He wanted to let me know that he was responsible for issuing a fatal kill shot to . . . you." Now it is Nick who holds his head in his hands, raking his fingers through his hair. Burton places a hand on his son's shoulder and gives him a reassuring squeeze. At that moment a doctor in surgical scrubs enters the waiting room. "Are you the Benoit family?" the mature man asks. "Yes," Burton stands, as Nick follows suit. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but . . . Mr. Benoit died on the operating table," the doctor does not mince words. "We never could stop the bleeding. The bullet caused too much damage." The doctor whispers his apologies again and leaves the two men alone with their loss. "It was a professional hit," Burton finally murmurs, his bottom lip quivering as tears freely stream from his eyes. A moment later, Gwendolyn tentatively enters the waiting room accompanied by a nurse. She needs only to take one look at Burton's face to know that Jason is gone. She bursts into tears and falls to her knees and then, onto the ground. Burton picks her up and holds her as she sobs and sobs and sobs. Nick can only turn away from this painful display. He shouldn't be here. In so many ways, he shouldn't be here. Burton Fallin's Residence August 24, 2002 8:30 a.m. It has been four days since Jason Benoit was killed. Burton held a memorial service yesterday to honor his newly found son, with the burial scheduled for the following Monday in New Orleans. Jason is to be buried next to his mother. Dominique would have wanted it this way. Gwendolyn is packed and ready to go to the airport, to return to Louisiana. When Burton offered to take her, she insisted on taking a cab as she has not had much time to herself these past few days. She told him she would meet him when he arrived in New Orleans on Sunday. Upon hearing a knock, she grabs one of the suit cases and opens the front door. She is surprised to find Nick Fallin standing there. "Dad said you were leaving today," Nick quickly states his reason for being there. "I know you don't want to see me, but we need to talk. We can't just leave things this way." "Yes, we can," Gwen replies. "We can leave things exactly this way." "Look, Gwen," he shifts nervously. "I care about you. What's going to happen to you?" She looks down at her feet. "I don't' know what's going to happen. I don't know anything anymore. I just want to go home . . . take Jason home." Then, she looks up with tears in her green eyes. "You know, if Jason and I had just stayed at home, none of this would have happened. How was Jason to know that he was walking into a family who receives death threats from organized crime?" Nick takes Gwen's hand, but she quickly pulls it away. "We didn't know there were threats. Maybe we should have known, but we didn't. If nothing else, you've got to know I'm telling you the truth." He pauses and then continues, "That bullet had my name on it. I would give anything if it had been me and not Jason." Nick looks at her, his grey-blue eyes glistening. He must love this woman because all he wants to do now is to take away her pain. Just at that moment, the cab pulls up into the driveway. Gwendolyn takes in a deep breath. "I've got to go." "Here, let me help you," Nick replies. And he gathers the rest of her luggage and carries it to the cab. After stowing the luggage in the trunk, Nick returns to Gwen. "I'll see you at the funeral on Monday, okay?" "Nick, I really wish you wouldn't come. I know Burton wants to be there, and that's fine. But I don't want you to be there." And she climbs into the back seat, and the driver closes the door. Nick is left standing alone in the driveway to watch his vision again disappear. EPILOGUE Several months after Jason's funeral, Nick tried to contact Gwendolyn but she would not return his calls. His letters were returned unopened as well. At the funeral, Gwen confided in Burton that it was too painful for her to see Nick. She needed to move on with her life. Burton agreed it would be best if any future contact came from Gwendolyn. And it occurred to him that he and Nick were paying for past sins, as both found and lost a love that should have never been. For Burton's sake, Nick now tries to walk the straight and narrow. In his own way, he is trying to prove to his father and to himself that his life is worthy of being spared. The killer of Jason Benoit remains at large. Other than the bullet removed from Jason's body and the anonymous phone call placed to Fallin Associates, no other clues were left behind; though it is a widely accepted theory that a Chicago crime family ordered a hit on Nicholas Fallin. Both Burton and Nick have taken extra safety precautions both at home and at the office, including checking one another's whereabouts with great regularity. They have even taken up owning firearms, a first for Nicholas. Both know there are people who would like to see them dead. ~fin~