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"Felicia!" Robert cries, cradling her head in his arms and rocking her back and forth.
"I'm going to call 911," Darren Reynolds says hurriedly, reaching for his cell phone.
As Darren furiously dials numbers, he paces back and forth next to his aunt and uncle. The phone begins to ring and he places it to his face, staring down at Felicia in shock and horror. Just as the operator comes onto the line, however, Felicia begins to cough loudly.
Robert exhales deeply as Felicia sits up in his arms, clutching his hand and turning her head wildly.
"Where am I?" Felicia demands.
"You're on the patio deck at Mata Hari's," Robert answers. "We found you here with Aaron. We think he did something to you..."
"No, that's impossible..." Felicia says. "Aaron would never hurt me... or anyone. He was trying to help Blake, I think, who was... where's Blake?"
"Blake?" Darren asks, confused. "What does Blake have to do with anything?"
"He was out here with Aaron," Felicia says. "And then I think... my nose started to bleed... it's done that before, the time I fainted at Hanley."
"Of course he was," Darren mutters, not hearing the rest of Felicia's comments.
"We need to get you checked out by Simon," Robert says. "Darren, will you... now where the hell did he go?"
Robert climbs to his feet, making sure that Felicia is propped up carefully. Neither Darren nor Aaron are in sight.
"I'm going to go and get Simon," Robert says, hurrying off.
As Felicia sits alone, wiping the blood from her cheek, she glances around for any trace of Blake. For some reason, she feels strongly concerned about his whereabouts. But he's nowhere to be found either.
Unfortunately for Felicia, she also has no idea there's one other thing now missing from the patio deck... not a person, but an inanimate object... the gun her son brought to the wedding reception.
Fully loaded and just itching to claim a victim before the night ends.
"I was looking for Felicia, but I can't seem to find her," Simon mutters, glancing around anxiously.
"Is it as important as your nerves are making it?" Denise demands. "Because you are trying it with the nervous shakes right now."
"I'm not... I'm not that nervous," Simon insists, trying to calm himself down by taking a gulp from the Jack and Coke in his hand. "It's just important that I speak to her, is all."
"You remember the time you gave me that advice about Sean?" Denise asks.
"Yes, somewhat."
"I'm gonna give you some advice too. Forget about that heffa! I think she's crazier than a loon."
Simon's shock registers as his mouth drops open. "She's not... she's fine."
"Leslie told me the woman stripped butt-ass naked and ran through her ex-husband's house," Denise counters. "Does that sound fine to you?"
Simon frowns. "I think the crazier thing is you and Leslie being so chummy all of a sudden."
"As I've always told my daughter, keep your enemies close enough to strangle them," Herald Robertson interjects, joining Simon and Denise at the edge of the stage.
"Pappa," Denise says, kissing her father on the cheek. "You missed the entire wedding!"
"I'm sorry, I overslept," Herald answers.
"Don't worry about it," Denise says, taking notice as Akilah Moore wanders past them, a slight dazed look about her. "Speaking of Leslie... Akilah, there you are. Your brother was looking for you."
"Oh," Akilah says softly. "Would you tell him I decided to risk grounding and take off? I don't feel too well."
"Are you heading home?"
"No, I'm going to stop by and see my aunt," Akilah says. "I think I need a dip in the pool. Or a sauna trip. That'll do."
Akilah's face seems to say something else is wrong, but Denise chooses not to press her. She doesn't need to anyway, with her father cutting in once more.
"Akilah, I don't think that's a wise idea," Herald says quickly. "I saw your aunt on my way out and she was... entertaining a guest. A male guest."
Akilah grimaces. "FML."
The adults register confused looks on their faces.
"It's a thing," Akilah explains. "I'm gonna go."
Herald shrugs, watching Akilah intently without the knowledge of Simon and Denise. "Kids these days..."
OUTSIDE MATA HARI'S
Aaron Maddock stops for a brief moment when he reaches the alley behind Mata Hari's. He exhales deeply and rests a palm on the restaurant's brick wall, attempting to catch his breath and reconfigure before he decides what to do now. He can't return the wedding... not with everything that has just happened.
Felicia stumbled upon him about to silence Blake, which means she knows everything. And even if his trigger on her mind has caused her to forget everything entirely, how will he be able to explain to Robert and Darren what they witnessed on the patio deck?
Aaron now seems to have passed point of no return, there can be no backward glances... the games he's played for so many years are now at an end.
"Aaron!"
He spins around to find Blake Thomas standing at the end of the alley, a gun teetering in his hands and aimed directly at Aaron. "Blake... where did you get that..." Aaron decides against questioning him and instead remains frozen. "Blake, please."
"Please?" Blake says, his voice quaking. "Like I asked you when you... when you raped me?"
Aaron shakes his head. "I didn't rape you."
Blake seems different now. Unlike how he appeared when he first arrived at the wedding reception. He seems afraid... seems like he isn't quite sure what he's doing, but feels there's no other options. He chased after Aaron with the gun... but for what end? To kill him? To make him apologize?
"Blake, you know this isn't right," Aaron says, finally mustering the resolve to approach Blake.
"I've passed the point of right or wrong," Blake snaps.
"Just one final question!"
Sweat pours down Blake's face as it contorts in confusion. "Yes?"
"Did you take off the safety, you idiot?" Aaron rushes at Blake, grabbing his arms.
Blake tries to fire the gun, but he finds he is unable to. It's jammed. It won't fire. It won't fire and kill the bastard standing before him with a sickening, ghoulish grin on his face.
But Aaron is wrong about the safety on the gun, and realizes too late that he mistook Blake's lack of familiarity with the firearm for a weapon that would be useless. All it takes is one hard, tough pull on the trigger from Blake for the gun to explode, echoing throughout the alley as a bullet flies from it and connects with Aaron's chest... the final threshold.
PRISON DE PARIS
PARIS, FRANCE
Everything Sean Moore knows could be a lie.
He's always wondered if this would ever be a possibility. The fact that he isn't Sean Moore. Who's to say that's still not a possibility? He remembers bits and pieces from his life with his first family in Marquette Cove, absolutely nothing of the period when he was held hostage by Michael Hanley, and many memories of the life he shared with Denise.
But when he returned to Marquette Cove to have the nagging pieces of his past wiped from him forever, he was accidentally given the memories of Michael's deceased wife, Elizabeth. For months he believed he was Elizabeth... it was as if she'd never died.
The effect was eventually reversed, but Sean has always wondered... if it were so simple to place another woman's memories into his own mind... how easy would it be to give him memories of some man by the name of Sean Moore? In Sean's worst nightmares, he wakes up to discover the life he's fought so hard to get back isn't even his life.
And it is those nightmares that have returned to his mind as he stands in a jail cell with Monique Davenport staring at him, coolly smoking a cigarette and licking her lips ever so slightly... almost as if to taunt Sean like he's been in prison for years and has forgotten the touch of a woman.
She claims that he is an imposter... that the real Sean Moore is on his way to meet her at the prison.
"Have you nothing to say for yourself?" Monique demands, the irritation in her voice having grown from just a mere few seconds ago.
"I don't know what else to say to you, lady," Sean insists. "I am Sean Moore. I'm not an impostor."
"Impossible!"
"Imperfect is your stupid theory," Sean retorts.
"Nice effort at alliteration," Monique says begrudgingly. "But I will prove that you are an impostor soon enough. Then you will face the firing squad."
"Firing squad? France still has firing squads?"
Monique remains stoic. "Perhaps."
"You know, it is 2009, and there's a lot of people populating the world these days," Sean continues. "Anyone could have my name."
"With the same American social security number?" Monique asks. "I think not."
"Same social... what the hell is going on here? I'm supposed to be questioning you about Marcus Vicman," Sean says.
"A ploy," Monique says, shaking her head. "You probably came here to kill me. Oui."
Before Sean can protest, they are interrupted as the doors at the end of the hallway clang open. Heavy footsteps can be heard approaching Sean's cell, causing both him and Monique to wait in anticipation as this alleged "real" Sean Moore shows his face.
"If this is Ryan again, just go ahead and shoot me," Sean mutters.
"Monique... what's going on?" the man says, his voice announcing his presence before Sean is able to see him. "Why did you call me down to the station?"
"I need you to see this man," Monique says. "He must be working with the people who killed Nikki Vicman. He's been masquerading as you."
"Masquerading as..." the man stops short once he finally catches a glimpse of the man in the jail cell.
Sean freezes as well. Because he recognizes this man all too well. He recognizes him so much, with feelings so incredibly strong, that he knows there cannot be single doubt in his mind that he is Sean Moore. But what's so confusing and horrifying to Sean is that the man standing outside his jail cell with Monique should be dead.
"I have to be dreaming," Sean gasps.
He has to be. It's the only way to explain how his very much-deceased brother, Derek Moore, is standing before him.
OUTSIDE MATA HARI'S
The singing from inside the restaurant drowned out the sound of a gunshot that for all intent and purpose, should have brought the entire wedding reception to a close.
For that, I am incredibly grateful.
As I stand in the shadows of the Mata Hari's grim alley, I can see Blake Thomas drop the gun in his hands and stumble backward, nearly losing his balance and tumbling to the pavement. He manages to catch himself, however, and uses his renewed strength to approach Aaron Maddock's lifeless body.
He feels for a pulse, then he wipes tears from his face and he turns and runs away from the alley. The first thing I notice is that he leaves the gun behind. How stupid could he be? Allowing himself to get caught up in emotion over a sick, disgusting animal like Aaron Maddock.
I approach Aaron's body silently, taking notice of the scene. Is he truly dead? Is Marquette Cove's long nightmare finally over?
The sight of Aaron's chest heaving ever so slightly, easy to miss by the naked eye, tells me that the motherfucker is still alive. He coughs up blood and struggles to open his eyes. After what seems like hours, he finally manages to open one eye and stare directly into my own.
"Please... help me..." Aaron croaks.
I can't tell if it is nerve, or simply the fact that he's entirely overwhelmed with fear that causes Aaron to beg for my help. But he does. He looks into my eyes and with all of the innocence and fear of the young boys he molested... the people whose lives he ruined with an effortless wave of the hand... the family members he endlessly manipulated under the guise of a caring therapist.
It is at that moment that I use a spare newspaper to lift the gun Blake abandoned on the ground and aim it at Aaron's forehead. It is then that I feign ignorance and hard of hearing, asking him to repeat his plea once more.
"Help me," Aaron whispers.
"No," I answer.
And then I pull the trigger.
