"I'm sorry, sir...Ms. Jerome is in a meeting!"

"Go ahead...just a little louder so she'll know you really, really tried."

"But...but...sir?!"

Smugly, Franco strode into her office, her frazzled assistant a half-step behind. "What the hell is this?" he asked rhetorically, tossing bits of paper into the air above her desk. They landed like so many snowflakes across the pristine glass top.

"It's alright, Jane. I'll take care of this."

Franco watched her intently, cautiously, as she rose, prowling across the room to dismiss the woman and close the office door.

"I assume you've retained the ability to read. Unless that's part of artistic ability as well?"

There was a feral callousness in her tone. His lips ticked up, enjoying the view-her fuck me pumps contrasting with what would have been a demure lace sheath on anyone else-as much as the prospect of verbally filleting the woman. "Hot and vicious...that's the Ava I remember."

"Like I give a damn what you think, Franco. Or are you changing it to Webber? Baldwin? Webwin? Baldco? So many choices." Ava crossed her arms, returning the cruel smile she saw on his face, knowing she'd hit a sore spot. "Then again, what's the use in a nom de guerre when one no longer creates?" Her smile twisted broader, enjoying crestfallen look of shame haunting his eyes. "Which brings us back to the confetti you threw on my desk. I'm suing you for fraud, asshole."

"Trust me, bitch, you don't want to do that."

"Oh, yes, I do. Badly. You and that pitbull lawyer knowingly misrepresented artwork you "created". I lost thousands of dollars and suffered irreparable damage to my credibility thanks to your pathetic stunt. Not that I expect to see a dime from you. But serving you on Christmas Eve-that filled my heart with Christmas cheer."

"Dime? I'd set all my money on fire before handing as much as a wooden nickel to you." He took one intimidating step toward her. "Hell, I'd set you on fire, and keep the wooden nickel."

Cool nonchalance rolled off Ava. "I couldn't have heard you correctly." Her voice was calm, deceptively soothing. "That nasty tumor's gone. You wouldn't threaten so much as a fly, right? And that has to be true, because CarlyClaus knows who's no longer naughty."

Franco took another step, resting his hands on either side of the wall behind her, effectively trapping her. "I don't threaten just anyone. But we both know you've done more than threaten." Franco deliberately traced a line from one side of her collarbone across her throat to the other side. "I bet Sonny Corinthos would love to know you missed me and hit that little tomato he squeezes every night."

"That's a fantastic tale." Her blue eyes looked up at him, feigning wonder. "Shoot you? I'm an art dealer. You're a disgruntled ex-lover who I'm now suing. Who's going to believe I'd ruin a manicure toting some heavy rifle around? Or lie on a dirty rooftop, ruining my dress while I wait for you to wander into my crosshairs?"

"The fact I blackmailed you might sway Sonny. Or the fact you're a newly minted Mob Princess."

Ava wrinkled her nose. "I'm grateful my brother, the legitimate businessman, is able to live freely after so many years apart. As for your supposed blackmail...I was desperate to be close to my daughter. She was living at the Quartermaine estate, and I was guilt-ridden, knowing she wasn't really yours." She shrugged. "Everything works out for the best, doesn't it? Which begs the question, if you believed I tried to kill you, would you have really shared a bed with me? Enthusiastically, as I recall."

"It was only the once, and I did guard both my genitals and head afterward."

"How very...paranoid of you."

"That reminds me-I should shoot a text to Morgan. Educate him on the mating habits of black widows."

"Morgan has nothing to fear from me," she purred.

"Other than losing his soul." He could see a shift in her-a sliver of conscience draining away some of her cocky assurance. "I'm sure he'll find some sweet, young thing to restore it someday."

As swiftly as the veneer cracked, her hand had clamped down on his previously protected genitals. Franco made a reflexive, unearthly squeal. Ava's teeth flashed victoriously at the sound.

"This is where the ride ends, Franco. If you ever, and I do mean ever, so much as breathe in my direction again, and you'll have to pick up your dick with a wet vac. Poor CarlyClaus will find her stocking empty night after night after night." Ava's face hardened as she tightened her grip and whispered in his ear. "No matter what Kiki thinks of me, keeping your sick, twisted freak ass away from her is the best thing I've ever done."

"You sick motherfu-"

Ava's hand twisted, turning Franco a sickly shade of gray.

The door opened, and Morgan poked his head in. "Jane said there was a problem," he said evenly, taking in the scene and ignoring Franco's pained expression. "Guess she was mistaken."

"Just discussing some unfinished business," Ava said casually, releasing her grip.

"Can I see you out?" Morgan asked, grabbing Franco forcefully by the arm.

"You crazy bitch," Franco wheezed, his body hunched over as he instinctively waited for the blood to rush back to his privates.

"Don't ever barge into my office again. Or you'll lose what you've got left," she said indifferently.

Morgan yanked him out of the room before he could retort. When he returned, Ava had returned to the seat behind her desk. "Don't you think-I mean considering everything-shouldn't you have some bodyguards? Between Freako and my father, and whatever enemies Julian has-"

"I protect me," Ava responded, drawing a gun smoothly from her desk drawer.

Morgan flinched, the shootout at the warehouse still fresh in his mind. He knew in theory it was pointed at the wall, but he couldn't ignore the tension building inside his body. It was obviously not a bluff-neither her arm or her expression wavered for a second. He, on the other hand, swallowed nervously.

"This is what I trust," she continued unapologetically. "Not lovers, not family, not hired thugs. They can lose interest, be paid off-or decide you're not useful enough."

"Sounds lonely." A shadow passed over Ava's face and he knew he'd spoken the truth.

"There are always tradeoffs in life." Ava latched the safety and placed it carefully on the desk.

"I still don't like the fact Freako just pushed his way in here. I can't believe my mom's fucking him. Talk about temporarily insane."

"I'm sure she'll regret it one day," Ava replied matter of factly. "Why are you here?" she asked, changing the subject.

"It's Christmas Eve. Let's ditch. We could go out to eat. Take in a movie. Grab a tree and decorate it back at the apartment."

"I thought your mother's expecting you?"

"She invited me. You weren't included. I'm not going."

"Morgan." Ava settled back into her chair. "That's a sweet thing to say. But it's Christmas. You should spend time with your family. You've got a little sister, right? Go play big brother for a couple of hours."

"Come with me."

Ava frowned slightly. How could she explain the emptiness she felt to someone who'd never had a child? Not only was she not in the Christmas mood, she'd just as soon crawl in bed alone and throw the covers over her head for the next 36 hours.

She'd done her best to make Christmas special for Kiki when she was growing up. Steaming hot chocolate while they skated at Rockefeller Center. Paper chains and popcorn strings on an eight foot tree. The yearly pilgrimage to Santa and the Rockettes' Christmas show. Stockings by the fireplace and cookies left on a plate for St. Nick's arrival.

One by one all the little traditions had melted away. Last year Kiki had spent more time with her friends than her mother.

And this year, they hadn't talked for months at a time.

"No," Ava shook her head. "I've got no desire to ruin anyone's Christmas. Not even your mother's." Although the thought of Franco being unable to fill Carly's stocking brought a smile to her face.

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't have any presents-"

"And Michael and Kiki will be there," Ava finished for him. "All the more reason you should go early. Then you can leave when they come. At least you'll have some time with them."

Rolling his eyes and sighing, Morgan gave in. "I'll go-but only because you'll bug me until I do."

"I've got some presents for your sister back at the apartment."

"You think of everything."

More like happenstance; Ava had found herself wandering the mall, things she wanted to buy for Kiki appearing everywhere she looked. Out of the corner of her eye she'd spied Carly. Normally, she would have avoided Carly like the plague, but then her daughter had popped up from behind a display. Something about the blonde moppet had stuck a chord in Ava. And she found herself following them discreetly through the stores.

Buying things the little girl had shown interest in Ava wrote off as holiday melancholy, or helping Morgan, even though he'd never mentioned wanting or needing her help. They could always be donated if nothing else.

"They're in my walk in closet, already wrapped," she went on, snapping back to the present. "And no peeking at what's in the other bags."

Morgan watched her shuffle papers and settle back into work. He checked his watch. "Isn't the gallery closing like...now?"

"It is," Ava confirmed.

"Let's go then."

"I've got some paperwork to finish up."

The finality in her voice announced the end of the discussion. Morgan turned to leave. "I'll call-maybe we can still do something tonight?"

"If it works out," Ava agreed noncommittally. He left with a small smile and a determined glint in his eye. She opened the drawer to put away her gun, and the small wrapped giftbox stared back at her. "Wait-" she called out.

Morgan was back in a heartbeat, leaning against the doorframe, hands jammed into his pockets. "I knew you'd come up with a better way to spend tonight."

Ava shook her head at his one track mind. "I-" Her mouth went dry and a knot formed in her stomach. Running a finger over the box, she debated asking for this favor. While they had been exhaustingly intimate in the bedroom, there were areas of her life she kept private. And she hated the thought of owing anyone.

Swallowing her pride, Ava picked up the box. "Could you give this to Kiki?" An imperceptible hardening of his jaw drew out a quiet "please" from her.

Reluctantly, Morgan nodded.

. . . . . . .

Morgan did feel the Christmas spirit, in spite of the tension his mother created with her forced happy banter and muttered digs at Ava. He focused on Joss, letting her open the gifts Ava bought the moment he walked in the door, and helping her sneak candy every time their mother's back was turned.

He heard their commotion; the rustle of packages, and some murmured exchange before he saw them. Some look of superiority appeared instantly on Michael's face, while Kiki looked like she'd swallowed something sour. They stood there dumbly, like the possibility he'd show up hadn't even crossed their minds.

He kind of enjoyed the thought of throwing a wrench in their perfect little world.

Not enough to stay though.

"Hey Joss," he called out, throwing her into the air when she ran over to him. "Turns out I gotta go," he said, stroking her hair. He promised to take her ice skating, and gave Michael a conceited smile when it earned him a big hug. Leaving the room, he deliberately pushed his way between the two frauds, knocking Michael aside.

"Nice to see you too, Morgan," Michael spit out sarcastically.

"Sorry to miss the floor show. I'm sure I can catch you walking on water another time. Showtimes at 2, 4 and 6, right?"

Michael continued to bluster meaningless crap while he got his coat on. And just as predictably, Kiki followed him outside when he left.

"Morgan, stop!"

When he didn't stop like an obediant dog, she amped up her sincerity and pleaded, "Captain, please!"

That did stop stop him in his tracks. It irritated him, knowing how funny he'd thought their private joke had been. "What do you want?" he asked, crossly. Necessary evil or not, he hated it just the same.

"Can't you stay? Just for a little while? It'd make everyone happy-"

Morgan snorted. "Everyone but me-but hey, why should I mind my brother fucking my wife, right?"

"We're not married, Morgan," she reminded him.

"And that is supposed to make everything you two did behind my back, okay? All the lies, all the secret meetings, the fact you were screwing me because you couldn't have your cousin...that just doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry, okay? I loved you-I just didn't know what to do-"

"Stop! Stop justifying what you did with the word "love" and what tense you had when. I thought I loved you. What I realize now is what a worthless piece of ass you were. I don't want some little pricktease who can't figure out what she wants. I need a woman."

Kiki groaned and rolled her eyes. "Wake up! My mother's using you. Your parents and Michael are just trying to protect you! She's pulled you in over your head."

"So I should cut my parents some slack?"

"Of course!" Kiki exclaimed, bug-eyed.

"Because they didn't mean to hurt me?"

"YES!"

Morgan shook his head. "You're such a fucking hypocrite. Your mom protected you for years-all by herself. From a sick fuck obsessed with death who terrorized this entire town. From the guy who walked out on her. From the same life I'm "in over my head" now. You haven't cut her any slack. Ava hasn't asked for anything from you. And you treat her like dirt."

"She slept with my husband!"

"See? I knew it." Morgan said coldly. "You don't believe the crap you say anymore than I do. You punish your mother for disappointing you. Stop using me as some excuse. You weren't going to give me a chance and you know it. Ava's lies kept you safe. Think about that the next time Freako crosses your path. Think about how Silas hasn't rushed into being Father of the Year. And think about this." Morgan fished the wrapped box out of his pocket. "She asked me to give this to you."

"I don't want anything from her." Kiki eyed the package like it might reach out and bite her at any moment.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Morgan tore off the paper himself. "It's a stocking. Merry Christmas." Shoving it at her, he left.

. . . . . . . .

Ava sat in her darkened apartment, staring at the downtown's holiday lights steadfastly blazing against the night. Other than the two stockings Morgan had hung on the sideboard, Christmas was neglected within her walls. Swirling scotch in her heavy crystal glass, there was only one question on her mind.

Did Kiki have her stocking?

The decoration was a little battered, the red velvet cuff getting thin in spots, the glittered swirls on the body losing more of their sparkle every year. But she had a sentimental attachment to it-having bought it just weeks after Kiki's birth. Every year she'd filled it, and every Christmas morning her daughter had delighted in its treasures.

Oddly, it was the only thing she'd ever gotten with "Lauren" on it. Funny how the name she'd chosen so carefully had been nearly forgotten.

Now here she was, discarded and cut out of her daughter's life. The irony wasn't lost on her-she'd rarely given Delia or her adoptive parents a passing thought after finding Victor and the Jeromes. There were other reasons for that, but the result was the same.

Ava finished the last of the scotch in one gulp. God, she hated feeling sorry for herself. It was probably time to eat something; there was a Chinese place around the corner Morgan liked. Sloshing another two fingers of scotch into her glass, she fished her phone out of her handbag and sank back into her chair.

Foggily she scrolled through her contact list, trying to recall the name of the restaurant. Golden Palace? Palace Express? Express Wok? The names spun in her mind and the words blurred on the screen.

She was drunker than she thought. The phone remained in one hand while she drank with the other. Morgan could figure it out when he got home, she thought as she tossed it aside.

Ava lost track of time, staring into the night and remembering snippets of past holidays. The year Kiki had shrieked and refused to sit on Santa's lap. The biked she'd squealed over. Chipping a tooth the first time she'd tried to skate on her own. Having saltines for dinner while she'd been sick. So many memories that spilled out and overwhelmed her.

She was so lost, the phone barely cut through her consciousness. But it kept ringing. And ringing. Finally Ava grabbed it, accepting the call with a quick swipe before barking, "What?"

For a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then finally a halting "Merry Christmas, Mom," before the line went dead.

Ava wept.