August 26, 1998, 12:00 P.M.
This installment is dedicated to Cassie, as she assisted me in the description of the Horton's house. Thanks, Cassie!
Mike wearily fumbled with his keys as he stood in front of the door. He wanted, more than anything in the world right now, to wake up from the nightmare that his life had become in the last two hours. He shook his head as he inserted the key into the lock and turned, letting himself in. His mother would definitely have a few things to say about the latest developments in his family life.
Strangely enough, the house was pretty quiet. He dropped his keys on the table beside the door and put his briefcase underneath it. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror hanging above the table and smiled ruefully. I look like someone just steamrolled me.
"Mike, is that you?" a familiar voice asked from upstairs.
"It's me, Grandma, I just got home," he called back.
"There's doughnuts on the table, dear," she said as her snow-white head popped over the railing to look at him, "and milk in the fridge. Help yourself."
"Thanks, Grandma," he said and went to avail himself of something a little more substantial than the cup of coffee and the handful of chocolate-covered cashew nuts he'd had this morning.
Mike grimaced as he sat down at the kitchen table. he thought to himself as he shifted his weight gingerly. His hip still ached from having landed on it when he woke up, and his stomach was gnawing a hole in his backbone. He appeased the second of the two pains by flipping up the napkin that covered the plate of freshly-made "Horton Cure-Alls" and started to munch.
"Michael William Horton!" Alice said as she came into the kitchen, "you look horrible!"
"Thanks, Grandma," Mike said in a deadpan, "you really know how to perk up my day."
Alice ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. "You need to get some sleep."
"Yes, ma'am." He listened for a moment, then said, "Where is everybody?"
"Well, Laura and Maggie are getting their hair done at the beauty salon and they should be back in an hour. Mickey's finishing up a few things at the office and he'll be home around two o'clock. You've got time for a little shut-eye."
"Where's Gus?"
"She's sleeping right now, poor dear. She was very tired when she got here."
Mike nodded and finished his doughnut. He put the napkin back in place and got up from the table. "Grandma, I'll be napping for awhile if you need me."
"Okay, dear," she said and he kissed her cheek as she set about washing the dishes.
When he finally trudged up stairs, Mike stripped off all superfluous clothing, collapsed on his bed, and didn't wake up for two hours.
When he finally came to, it was to the sound of Gus knocking on the door.
"Yo, Mike, open up, this is important!"
Her voice alone was enough to wake him, but the added impetus of her knocking forced him to get out of bed.
"Coming!" he called. He flung open the door to find Gus, standing their, half dressed.
"Would you zip me up, please?" she asked, presenting him her back.
"You woke me up for this?!" Mike asked, obliging her. He could see why she was having problems because the zipper on her sky-blue chiffon gown was not behaving itself at all.
"Well, Mrs. H. is helping Laura pick out something to wear and Maggie and Mickey are dandying each other up, so I didn't want to bother anybody. How was your nap?"
Mike yawned as he worked the stubborn tab upwards. "Okay, I guess, would have liked more."
He finished and tickled her in the ribs to let her know he was done.
"You twit!" she said, smacking him playfully. "You know how I hate that!"
"Yeah, and you know how I hate being woken from a sound sleep."
"Do I ever!" Gus retorted, adjusting the straps. "You're crabbier than a sex-starved goat."
Mike scowled and crossed his arms. "You always did have a way with words, Augusta."
"Nice boxers," Gus commented, glancing down ever-so-meaningfully.
They were light blue with white pinstripes.
Mike realized that he was wearing not much else and shut the door in her face.
Gus could just barely contain her laughter.
"It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before, Horton!" she said to the door.
When Mike opened it again, he was wearing a ratty-looking old robe that had seen better days. He leaned against the door jamb. "What do you want, Gus?"
She brushed past him and looked around his room. "Nice, good color scheme," she commented. "Thank God you don't have to sleep under a mountain of frothy pink lace and ribbons."
"Hey, Jenn likes her frothy mountain," Mike said as he went to his closet and pulled out his tuxedo.
"So, how do I look?" Gus asked as she pirouetted gracefully. Her hair was curled and swept up off of her face. It was secured on top of her head in a chignon, with a few strays curls brushing the back of her neck. The dress was a marvelous creation. It had a full skirt that came down to mid-thigh, and a fitted top with a square neckline and spaghetti straps. She had on white sandals with low heels.
"Sexy, sweet, soft. Distinctly out of place and definitely not you."
"I know," Gus said, plucking at the folds of chiffon and readjusting the left strap of the dress. "I feel like a Barbie doll."
"So why wear it?" Mike asked, pulling a pair of black socks out of his drawer.
"It has its advantages," Gus replied absently. "So, who are you going with to this 'joyous occasion'?"
"I'm, um, taking Carrie," Mike said quickly as he made a dash for the door.
Gus was quicker. She slammed it shut and pressed her back against it, effectively blocking his exit. "Mike Horton, you tell me right now, what's going on between you two?"
"Nothing, I swear!"
"No deal, Horton." Gus slammed the bolt home in the lock without looking. "I don't buy it."
"What do you want me to say?!" Mike asked, thoroughly exasperated. "What can I do to not have to be interrogated right here, right now?"
"Just give me a few promises." Gus replied as she started counting on her fingers, "One, that you are not just doing this out of a misplaced sense of duty or friendship. Two, that you won't let me come with you and 'cramp your style.' Three, that you won't ask me any questions about anything 'weird' that might happen at the Kiriakis mansion today."
Mike gave her a look that said he was instantly suspicious. "What do you mean, 'weird'?"
"You know what I mean, Mike," Gus answered. "I won't cross-examine you now if you promise not to grill me later."
His eyes went wide. "You're not. . ."
"Yes, I am." Her tone was cool, confident, and deadly. Very deadly.
"Gus, why now?" Mike said as he ran a hand through his already hopelessly messed up hair.
"There's someone very, very important that I have to keep an eye on at this wedding, Mike."
"And that would be. . ."
"Franco Kelly."
August 26, 2:15 P.M.
"You're joking."
Gus snorted in a most unladylike manner. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
"What could possibly important enough for the ISA to send you here to look after Franco Kelly?" Mike asked.
"Do you want the long story or the short story?" she replied, brushing a stray curl out of her face.
"Both." Mike staggered back to his bed and sat on the end of it, rubbing the back of his neck.
Gus sat down next to him and practiced pointing and flexing her ankles, admiring the pleasing arch they made as she did so. She rubbed the tip of her nose and sighed.
"Franco Kelly's the only witness we have to a murder we think was committed about ten years ago. We've been tracking his movements, hoping to find an opportunity that we could approach him and question him about it, but the timing had never been right. The recent attempt on his life at the Penthouse Grille has speeded up our schedule. I've been assigned to investigate him, get close to him, and try to find out as much as I can before another assasination attempt occurs."
"Whoa, wait a minute, hold on right there, Gus Fredericks! Do you mean to tell me that Robin and Jeremy had nothing to do with your visit to Salem?"
"No, Mike," Gus replied, "I've mixed ISA business with other business, that's all."
"Is there any other 'business' that I should know about?" Mike asked, sighing as he did so.
Gus thought for a moment. "How much do you want to know?"
"Everything."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Well, here goes-"
"Michael!"
Both Mike and Gus groaned in unison as they heard his mother Laura calling out to him. She knocked on his door. "Michael, we need to discuss carpooling arrangements soon, so don't be too long in getting dressed!"
"Yes, Mom!" he yelled at the door, and the sound of Laura's footsteps quickly faded away. Gus stifled a giggle as she watched him roll his eyes.
Mike scowled at Gus. "I just thank God I have a lock on my door."
"I understand completely," Gus replied and got up off of the bed. "You go get showered and dressed and I'll fill you in afterwards, okay?"
"Okay, Agent 99."
"Cute," Gus commented as that familiar, devilish gleam came into her eyes. "In the meantime, I thought I'd have a little talk with your mom."
"Go easy on her, Gus," Mike said, "She's never been the strong type."
"Michael," Gus said, batting her eyelashes innocently, "this is me we're talking about!"
Mike laughed and pinched her cheek as he walked by her to the door, knowing how much it would irk her. "I know, that's what I'm afraid of."
Gus swatted him on the behind as he unlocked the door and opened it. "Go take your shower, Horton, and be quick about it!"
"Yes, ma'am!" he answered, trying to evade her well-placed smack.
When Gus returned to her room, she found Laura Spencer Horton sitting in the chair that matched her daughter's desk. In fact, all of the furniture in the room matched. Gus thought that it looked like something straight out of a Sears catalogue.
"You're after my son, aren't you?" Laura said without preamble.
"Excuse me?" Gus responded, arching an eyebrow as she did. Mike said his mother was a little paranoid at times, but this was ridiculous!
Laura folded her arms and fixed Gus with a look that would have pinned a lesser woman to the wall behind her. "I've seen your type before, Augusta. You're cool, calculating, and manipulative, and altogether unfit for Michael. You should know that my son is in love with Carrie Brady, so you'd best give up."
To Laura's surprise, Gus started giggling. "Oh, Laura, you don't know how right you are!"
"This is not a laughing matter, young lady! I love my son and I want what's best for him!" Laura said, rising up from the chair, getting up in Gus' face.
Gus instantly sobered. It was her turn to return the stare. "You say you want what's best for Mike, Laura, but isn't it really what's the best way for you to get revenge?"
"How dare you?!" Laura asked, gasping at Gus' audacity.
Gus left her standing there as she went over to her suitcase and took out a long, flowing blue chiffon wrap. She placed it on the bed. Then she riffled through her suitcase again until she found the small white clutch that matched her shoes. She tossed that on to the bed as well.
She seemed to not care that Laura was there, and her nonchalance infuriated Laura to no end. Lauar glared at her for a few moments before she tried to attack again. "You have no right to say something like that to me! You have no idea how I have suffered!"
"I know all about your ex-husband and Kate Roberts, so don't give me the sob story, Laura." Gus knew she was being deliberately cruel, but it was high time that Mike's mother got some sense knocked into her. "Your husband cheated on you and locked you away in a sanitarium were you were kept doped up for almost two decades, right? Well, stranger things than that have happened to people who weren't as strong as you and who didn't have the supportive network of family and friends that you have. Now I'm warning you, Laura, leave Mike out of this vendetta you have against Kate Roberts. He already has enough on his mind without you taking advantage of your relationship in an attempt to one-up her!"
"How dare you?!"
Can't she say something a little more original? Gus thought to herself as she got out her make-up kit. She opened it up and searched for her lipstick. She found the one she was looking for: a nice, muted, deep mauve color that suited her well. She took off the cap and touched up her lips while looking in the mirror mounted over the dresser.
"What gives you the right to make a judgment about my relationship with my son?" Laura asked, her tone implying that she was spoiling for a fight.
Gus looked at her and shrugged. "I know him, Laura, and I know how he works."
Laura shot Gus a nasty and incredulous look. "Do you mean to imply that you know my son better then I know him myself?"
"I've known Mike longer than you have," Gus replied, using her middle finger to wipe off a bit off of her bottom lip that had become smeared. "We went to the same medical school together and we've been best friends ever since. You only know him as the adolescent he was before you went away. Mike's all grown up now, and he's having a really hard time dealing with the way he feels about Carrie. He loves her, but he won't betray his morals and convictions to be with her. Of that much, I can be sure."
Gus recapped the lipstick and turned to face Laura head-on. "Did you ever think, for even a moment, Laura, that Mike would ever want to repeat the same mistakes his own father made? Is that what you want, for Mike to become exactly like Bill Horton?"
Laura's hand flew to her mouth as realization dawned on her. "No, never, I would never want Mike to be like his father if I could help it!"
"Then do him a favor and stop pushing him!" Gus' temper was in full force. "Mike's only human and human beings can take just so much before they snap. He's doing the best he can and your endeavoring to make him your tool for retaliating against Kate will only make him resent you even more!"
"But I'm not-"
Gus cut her off. "Laura, what possible reason could you have for encouraging Mike to go after Carrie than because you want to see the son of Kate Roberts suffer, and through him, her as well?"
She reiterated: "He's my son, and I want what's best for him!"
"Than act like a good mother and let him make his own choices!"
Laura was speechless. Never before in her entire life had she felt so utterly. . . scolded.
Gus sighed wearily. "I'm sorry, Laura, I shouldn't have said that in that manner. The best thing you can do for Mike is to trust him to do what he thinks is right for him. Right now, he needs you support much more than he needs your advice."
Laura, guilt-stricken and silent, left the room without bothering to take a parting shot.
Gus took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. Thank God that's over.
She peered at herself, wondering how she got into these situations. If Mike was lucky, Laura would go live in Africa with Jennifer and Jack and leave poor Mike alone.
Gus reached into her suitcase, located the hidden compartment along the seam and withdrew two spare clips for her gun. One of these she placed in her purse, the other she dropped down the front of her dress. She was fortunate this time around that the ISA had given her clothing a little more attractive than what she'd been sent off with on her last assignment.
Gus draped the wrap around her arms and studied the effect in the mirror.
"Very fetching, but I still think black is more your color."
"Mike!" she said, surprised to find him standing in her doorway, still wearing the ratty old robe, but he was now looking like he'd just come from the shower.
"You look a lot better," she commented.
"I feel human, at long last," he replied, running a hand through his wet hair. The robe shifted just enough to reveal his chest, which was still damp.
Gus shook her head and smiled, a dimple appearing in her cheek. "Mike, if I wasn't your 'big sister,' I'd say you look good enough to eat."
Mike grinned at her. "Go easy on the compliments, Fredericks, or I might take you up on your offer!"
"Oh no you don't," Gus retorted. "I'm not that kind of girl!"
"And here I was thinking you were going to pledge your undying affection for me."
Mike made a move to hug her, but Gus held him at arms' length. "Yeah, right, in your dreams, maybe! Now go get dressed!"
"What, no hanky-panky?!" Mike's expression of faked disappointment tested Gus' ability to keep from laughing.
"Out!" she ordered, pointing to the door.
Once she'd shoved him through, Gus closed the door behind him and locked it. She had a few phone calls to make.
She took out a cellular phone from her suitcase, and flipped it open. She sat down in the chair next to the desk and dialed a number.
"Hello, Donovan? It's Gus. Everything seems to be all right, and I'm on schedule." Gus looked out the window and saw that she had an excellent view of the backyard. There was the swing that Mike and Carrie had each told her about. She smiled to herself, thinking it would be nice to have grown up in a town like this. "No, I don't foresee any problems at the moment. The Maxwells won't be getting here for another forty-eight hours, if the information I've received is accurate. . . Yes, there's plenty of time to complete the mission, I'm positive. . . Okay, that works. I have one request, though. . . I want three weeks personal leave when this is all over. . . No, Shane, none of this back-to-back assignments bull anymore. . . Shane, I'm not the spring chicken I used to be, so you'll just have to get used to it!. . . How are Jeannie and Drew? . . That's good to hear. Give them my love. . . Kim's going to be at the wedding? Great! I'll finally get to meet her! . . Any more instructions?. . No? Well, that's it, I guess. Take care."
She pressed the "disconnect" button just as Mike knocked on the, dressed in his tuxedo. His bow tie was being intractable and so he was struggling to get it on.
Gus let out a slow whistle. "My, my, my, don't we look handsome, Dr. Horton!"
"Dr. Horton is having trouble getting his bow tie on at the moment, Gus," Mike replied. "Could you give me a hand?"
"Sure." She got up from the chair, leaving the cell phone on the desk. Gus' nimble fingers made short work of the task as she deftly tied it for him.
"Thanks," he said as she straighted the corners. "How do I look?"
Gus took in the full sight. His tuxedo was obviously tailored to fit him, and working from the fact that most men looked good in black tie evening wear, it was safe for her to decide that he looked, in a word, incredible. It was really too bad that the sleek lines of the clothing hid the fabulous body she knew was lurking under there. Mike had never been a really big guy, but he topped her by at least three inches and he was solidly built.
Gus walked around behind him and adjusted the fit of his jacket. "Not bad at all, Horton, not bad at all. The dames would be beating your door down to get to you if they saw you dressed in this."
"Unfortunately there's already one who's made her interest in me more than apparent to the naked eye."
"Carrie?" Gus asked, not quite believing that could be the case.
Mike shook his head as he adjusted his cufflinks. "No, this nurse named Ali McIntyre."
"And how do you feel about that?" Gus asked, hopping on to the bed and swinging her feet.
Mike sat down in the chair she'd vacated, and considered the question. "She's sweet and all, but she's so. . ."
"Boisterous?" Gus supplied, "Brunette? Bouncy?"
Mike's head snapped up. "You've met her?"
Gus's nose wiggled as she laughed. "No, but from the look on your face, I could pretty much guess. Sick of her already, are you?"
Mike sighed and rubbed his forehead, as if he was trying to get rid of a migraine. "Oh, God, she's a wonderful person and all, but she can get on a guy's nerves once in awhile."
Gus chewed on this admission awhile, then said, "Mike, as I remember, you were never one for the 'Rah-rah-sis-boom-bah!' cheerleader type. What gives?"
"I don't know. I don't even know why I'm dating her. I guess it's because. . ." He trailed off and looked out the window, out on to the backyard.
"You're trying to forget about Carrie?" At his silence, Gus thrust another supposition in. "And Nurse McIntyre's about as far away from my sweet, serious and usually serene niece as you can get, right?"
Mike nodded, not at all happy with the fact. "Yeah, that about sums it up."
Gus jumped down from the bed and patted him on the shoulder. "Mike, you have this incredible ability to get yourself into bad situations. Do you realize that?"
Mike put his hand over hers. "And you and my grandma are doing a great job of cheering me up today."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it."
He shrugged and she knew the remark had rolled off of his back. That was what Mike was like. Gus rolled her lip between her teeth, and tried a different tactic.
"If it makes you feel any better, if you weren't my 'kid brother,' I'd be sitting in your lap and whispering naughty suggestions at you, you look that good."
Mike grinned and rolled his eyes. "Aw, you have to tempt me, don't you?"
"That's the Mike I know," Gus said and she patted him on the head. "Now stop all that moping! Your mom wanted to discuss carpooling with you."
"I have to go pick up Carrie at four o'clock, and I'm taking my Corvette-"
"-The one that screams 'Sports Car Stud'?"
"Gus!" Mike didn't know whether to laugh at her audacity or whack her on the wrist for her cheekiness.
She put her hands up and replied defensively, "Just an observation. It is a red Corvette, after all. I remember how you used to drool over those things in med school."
"Yeah, Carrie encouraged me to buy it." Mike smiled fondly as he remembered the incident.
"I'll bet she twisted your arm and everything," Gus said dryly as she watched his expression. "So, does this mean you won't be driving the Mrs. Hortons?"
Mike snapped out of his reverie. "Probably not."
"Well, that's not a problem. I can take Laura and Mrs. H. in my rental car."
Mike's eyebrows went up. "So you're the one with the black Lexus."
Gus nodded as she picked up her purse and went about putting in it the things she needed. "Yup, picked it up from the rental agency after I left the hospital. Thought I would need my own set of wheels while I'm here. You don't need to worry about Mickey and Maggie. They were planning on arriving late because Mickey's still at the office."
"Sounds good."
Gus snapped the purse shut and a thought occurred to her. "Mike, Mickey drives a sedan, right?"
Mike nodded. "Yeah, why?"
Gus's forehead furrowed and her lips pursed as she thought for a moment. "I'm not sure I'll be able to give Laura and Mrs. H. a ride home."
He looked at her, and understood what she was talking about. "I'll speak to Maggie and arrange something."
She smoothed a wayward lock of hair out of his eyes. "Thanks, Mike. I owe you one."
"If you're about to do what I think you are, you may owe me more than one."
Gus took a deep breath and smoothed the front of her dress, her hand coming to rest upon her abdomen.
"We'll just have to see, won't we?"
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