Earlier that evening, The Impostor had found his way to the warehouse again, and using the combination, unlocked the special room where he and his father always met. There was his chair, ready for him, opposite the one his father sat in across from him, for their chats. "Soundproof, waterproof, sunproof, lifeproof," he thought. He sat and waited. Though he had placed a phone call to his father earlier, it was unlike him not to be there at the arranged time. He waited.
Finally, he heard a noise behind him. "My son."
He turned. His father leaned to kiss both sides of his face. "Father."
"Why did you summon me, my boy?"
"Delgado is dead, father."
"Yes, yes he is. I know, my Son."
"I didn't want..." his face contorted, and he began to cry. The older man became angry.
"Why are you blubbering? This is what you wanted. You wanted him out of the way, to preserve your identity. You want to hold on to that pretty little Spanish girl, don't you? And, just as we thought..."
"I don't want to," he began, then breathing hard, "I don't want to be like you." The anger on his father's face frightened The Impostor, but he continued. "She loves me."
Cruelly, "You are forgetting my son, that there is only one person who truly loves you, and that is your father. She does not love you. She loves him. She loves Todd Manning, and believes she is loving Todd Manning, not you. She believes she is wrapping her svelte, supple legs around him, not you."
"No," he rose up from his chair, "No. She loves me. She knows I am not Todd Manning. She knows I am someone else. She knows it. She told me. She told me just today. She loves me." He cried, enraged, and spitting and sobbing in his hurt.
"Sit down." His father ordered. He stood, stolid. "I said sit down!" he bellowed, backhanding him across the face, and the younger one fell into the chair. He felt the bands lock around his ankles and wrists. Two henchmen came into the room, one accidentally leaving the door ajar behind him.
Wide-eyed, he begged. "No, father, no. I'm sorry for being insolent."
"Too late. This is the family business, my boy."
"No, father, no!" His breathing heightened, and his first screams were drowned out by the shutting of the combination door.
***
When John McBain arrived, Blair was on the couch, facing the windows, disoriented and mumbling to herself. "Blair? Blair can you hear us?" Viki said. Both of them had gone to her side immediately after entering the penthouse.
"No, no, Viki, no, please." She rocked, repeating assurances to herself. "He's not gone, he's not. He's not. God. I just got him back. He's not gone."
Viki looked to John, "Oh my God. What happened here?"
John crouched in front of his ex-wife. "Blair, look at me, it's John. Look at me." She turned her view to match his eyes. "It's John, Blair. What happened?"
She began to cry, and her words were slurred and slow. "I don't know John, he said he wanted to be alone for a few minutes after you left, and I went upstairs to wait for him, and then, John, he was gone. He's gone. Oh my God, no." She fell into his arms, and he held her for a moment, motioning to Viki to call 911.
"She's in shock," to Blair he said, "Blair, did anything happen? Anything strange?"
She held out her arm. "These. These two little marks. Oh John, they look just like his, don't they?" She was slurring more and unable to support her own weight as she keeled over onto the couch, unconscious. At that moment, he put the pieces into place. Pulling out his cell phone, he called Natalie. "Hey, can you get over to the Manning Penthouse right away? There's something strange going on here. Could be an abduction."
He examined her arm again, and sat her up. She stirred, wavered, and swayed. Viki came back to his side, "What's wrong with her?"
"She's been drugged. At least, it looks that way." Within minutes, the paramedics rushed through the door to the penthouse and examined Blair, placing her on a gurney for easier transport. "Run a toxicology on her, right away, it's either slow acting poison or a drug of some kind. Find out. We're not losing her."
Natalie came in, and hearing the last statement, went to John. "Drug? Poison? Who would do this to Blair?"
"I don't know. It was either an intruder or Manning himself." John said.
Blair, from the gurney where she now lay, said, "No. No, not Todd. No. He would never. Viki! Viki! Please. Tell them Viki. He would never leave us again, he wouldn't, Viki, he wouldn't ever leave us. Not again. He'd never hurt..."
John tried one last time, "Blair. Please, think. Can you remember anything, anything different, out of sorts or strange that happened?"
She squinted her eyes, "No. Not Todd. It's not Todd. Slice and Dice."
***
Todd woke up in a familiar place. He was clothed in all white. Across from him sat The Slice and Dice. He was tapping his blade. "Welcome home, Manning."
In his dread, he hawked back and spit into the other man's face. Even with his hands and ankles banded to the chair, he smirked. "Long time no see. Oh, I mean, actually see. I've seen you often, in my dreams, heck even when I'm awake. And when and if I get out of my head, I'm going to find you and f#cking kill you."
Todd's stare was so cold, that even The Slice and Dice hesitated for a moment. "Your head? Is that what you think? You think this is some lucid dream? Watch it. You don't want to go there already, do you?" Todd continued to stare him down. Refusing to let his eyes leave the man's face, he projected every ounce of hatred that he had onto him. The knife beat faster in his palm. "Now, make nice with me, for old time's sake, eh?" He started to stand up, approaching.
Though his heart was beating, and sweat was on his brow and body, he continued to stare him down. "Make nice for me. Apologize."
Todd looked up, and his face softened. "I'm sorry." he paused, "For this," and he spit again, only harder. The Slice and Dice tore open a section of Todd's shirt, and he fought to keep the scream from erupting. Suddenly, the door to the room opened. It was Burly. "The boss said nothing yet. He has another thing planned."
"The boss won't have to know. Just once, for old time's sake?"
Burly stepped forward, "The boss said nothing yet."
The Slice and Dice retracted his knife and wiped his face with his sleeve. Before walking away, he punched his hand into Todd's stomach. Unprepared, he doubled over in pain, throwing up his scotch and light dinner. The Slice and Dice laughed, sneering, as he walked out of Todd's room. Burly stepped closer. "Todd. Remember me?"
Todd could barely sit up. The pain was hollow and long. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Looking up finally, he said, "Yeah, I remember you. How can I forget? You've made some appearances in my mind before."
"This isn't your mind."
"Sure it is. I have these all the time. And I'm starting to get good at it. Soon, it will get black and then brighten to another place. I'll come out of it later when Blair calls to me. I'm getting better. It just took time."
"This isn't your mind, Todd." He looked at Burly's expression. "Blair's not coming. This is real. You're here pal. You're back." Todd looked at Burly, and starting shaking his head. "They plan to get you to talk, whatever it takes. I just wanted to give you a heads up, so you know what's coming."
"No. It's not true," he panicked. His breathing began to hasten. "Blair? Blair? Wake me, Blair?"
Burly approached him, and hauling back his hand, slapped his face. "She can't wake you!" he yelled. "She can't wake you because you are awake. You're here. It's real, Todd." And for some reason, Burly developed a conscience, "I'm sorry."
The door pushed open, and in walked The Grim Reaper, and Todd's eyes locked on the figure, who extended a lighter toward him.
Blackness was welcome. Todd was gone, once again into his safe place.
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