| §*ß*§ Chapter Three §*ß*§ Christmas Past Luke pushed up the sleeves of his black shirt, plopping down on the long white sofa between a drunken Tony Cassadine and Mikkos. While Old Helena stood admiring the brightly lit tree, Luke filled his time by alternately poking the two brothers. The fact that they couldn't feel it didn't dim the satisfaction. Tony got up and stalked across the room to the bar. He pulled the stopper out of the crystal decanter and started to pour himself another glass of brandy. "Haven't you had enough, yet?" Mikkos asked pointedly. Tony answered by emptying the glass in one gulp. He poured another. “Find someone else to harass, Brother." A Helena in her early to mid thirties came strolling into the room in a snow white pantsuit with a red silk scarf looped through her pants as a belt. "Leave your brother alone, Mikkos," she instructed merrily, "If he wants to be an inebriated blight on the family, let him." "Ahh....the ice queen graces us with her presence," Tony slurred, taking a long sip. He set down his drink. With a sensuous leer, he started stroking his sister in-law's arm. “You don't have to be so cold, Helena. If you like, I could help you...thaw." Younger Helena shook off Tony's touch and walked away. Mikkos watched his youngest brother with disdain. Helena went to the sofa, sitting on top of Luke without even knowing it. She leaned across to lay her head on her husband's shoulder. "Don't let him ruin Christmas Eve, Darling." "I won't," he replied sincerely, "I just wish that he hadn't decided to come home so soon. I really thought that the experience in the London offices would be good for him." "He is out of control, Mikkos." "He has been ever since Mother died." "For goodness sakes, he's a grown man. Grown men don't fall to pieces just because their overbearing, pseudo-religious, horrid, bull of a mother dies." Mikkos turned his head to look at her. "Helena, you could at least pretend to care that my mother is dead!" His mouth was tight as he got up and stormed from the room. "What did I say?" she laughed evilly, as she leaned back against Luke's chest. Tony stared at her from his new position by the window. Ignoring her comment about his mother, he asked. "Is Victor coming or not?" Helena toyed with the fringed tip of her red scarf. Her face was unreadable, but her voice was a bit husky as she answered, "He...he called and said he would try and get here in time for Christmas dinner, but he couldn't promise. I hope he can make it. I am looking forward to seeing him." "I bet you are..." "What does that mean?!" Helena snapped. Tony sipped his brandy quietly, shrugging his shoulders. Old Helena roamed around the large room, exploring her memories of time past. She barely listened to the conversation in the room. As she came to the sofa, she glared at Luke. "Move!" "Why should I move? It's kind of fun to having you on my lap. It brings back memories." "Memories of hell freezing over? Because that is exactly what it would take to ever get me on your lap." "That's not what you said last night. Anyway, is there anything special about this Christmas Eve?" "Special...I can't really remember. Judging by the suit I'm wearing and by Tony's drunken state, it must be the sixties...probably 1965...Yes! 1965 was the first Christmas after Mikkos' mother died." "Oh, so everyone is sad?" "I don't know about everyone else, but it was the best holiday I had celebrated since I married Mikkos. That woman was a curse to humanity." "It's strange that you two didn't get along. It sounds as if you two had much in common," Luke remarked, rising from the sofa. He glided like a phantom through the younger Helena who sat undisturbed, popping a salted almond in her mouth. Old Helena turned back to the large glittering tree that surrounded by an abundance of brightly wrapped gifts. "The only thing we had in common was Mikkos..." "You'll have to wait until tomorrow morning." Luke, Tony, and both Helenas turned at the sound of Mikkos booming voice. He appeared in the doorway carrying a large present wrapped in shiny metallic paper with a huge gold bow on top. An adorable young girl walked by his side, absently sucking the tip of her index finger. "Can't we open it tonight, Uncle Mikkos?" she asked in a pleading voice. Bending over to place it under the tree, Mikkos replied, "I know that you're anxious, dear, but part of the fun of the Christmas holiday is the wait." "Waiting's not fun," she pouted, eyeing the package. "Perhaps," Younger Helena said harshly, "I'll burn every present that has the misfortune of belonging to you. Then, you won't have to wait because there won't be anything to wait for!" Frightened, Alexis looked towards Mikkos with watery wide eyes, then immediately dropped them to the floor. Mikkos, who was kneeling in front of the tree, shot Helena a scathing look. "Now, now, dear," he soothed, "Aunt Helena was just joking. She wouldn't do anything that dastardly to a young girl on Christmas." Looking pointedly at his wife, he emphasized his warning, "Would you, Lanie?" Younger Helena, leaning comfortably on the sofa, sifted through the crystal dish of almonds. "I suppose not..." "See? There is nothing to worry about. Now, be a good girl and help me find the small blue gift box. It appears to be lost among all the other presents." Alexis nodded, getting onto the floor and crawling around the tree to help her 'uncle' search. Old Helena snarled at the sight. "What kind of a monster would threaten to burn a little girl's Christmas gifts?" Luke questioned, pulling a flask out of his pocket and filling it with expensive liquor from the wide marble bar near the window. "She should consider herself fortunate that there would even be presents to burn. Mikkos insisted that we give her...things...that we allow her in the house to join the festivities. I would have been satisfied to leave her with the servants." "She's just a child, though, Helena. What harm could it do to be nice?" "I think you can answer that question yourself, Luke. When was the last time you welcomed Nikolas with open arms?" "That's different-" Luke protested. Helena raised her head in victory. "There's no difference. To me, Alexis is my spouse's inconvenient bastard. She inspires no feeling in me except for hate. It is evident that you feel the same way about Nikolas." Luke averted his eyes, taking a quick swig of scotch from his silver flask. "Maybe you got a point...a little insignificant point..." "...but a point nonetheless..." Tony rambled around the room. He swung open the cabinet in the back of the room, revealing a large stereo system. He selected a record album and placed it on the turn table. He set the needle in the groove. As he turned the volume up, the room was filled with a low somber beat. "Tony," Younger Helena groaned in annoyance, "can't you play something more fitting of the occasion?" "Berlioz fits every occasion," he said, stretching out in the red and gold goose-neck armchair. "Symphony Fantastique is one of my favorites," Mikkos added, shifting his search to the presents in back. There was a loud thud against the closed door and then the sound of arguing. Younger Helena uncoiled herself, rising from the sofa and walking swiftly to the door. She swung it open, only to have two young boys run past her. "You are not going to get away with this!" the older one screeched, racing to catch up. The younger one dodged a chair, jumping over an ottoman and blazed past a startled Mikkos towards the French doors that led to the terrace. He was almost to freedom when the older one launched himself into the air and tackled his little brother to the ground. "Where do you think you're going, Gimp?!" Stavros asked, straddling his little brother and viciously twisting Stefan's arm behind his back. "Let me go, Stavros!" Stefan ordered, trying to wriggle himself free. Stavros replied by pushing his brother's face into the thick white carpet. In delight, he twisted his arm harder. "Now, Gimp, you are going to have to demonstrate that you are worthy of being released. Your older, wiser, smarter brother is not convinced." "Neither is he wiser or smarter. . .merely capable of brute force..." Stefan countered, spitting shag carpet fibers out of his mouth. "What is the meaning of this disturbance?" Mikkos thundered, towering above his children. "I demand an explanation." Stefan opted to remain silent while Stavros sputtered for something to say. "Well...I...and then Stefan pushed me...so I had to ...ummm..." "Silence, boy! Just as I suspected, there is no plausible or coherent explanation for such a display of reckless rowdiness. Do the both of you understand that such behavior IS NOT tolerated in this household?" "Yes," Stefan and Stavros answered contritely. "Then the both of you should also understand that any repeat of such behavior will carry with it grave consequences. Now, Stavros, release your brother." "But, Father!" Stavros started to protest, still holding his brother in place. By now, Stefan was groaning in pain. His arm was sending shooting sparks through his body. Any more pressure, and he was certain that the bone would break. "What is going on?" Younger Helena demanded, rushing over from the door. Old Helena was directly on her heels. "I'll make this very clear, Stavros," Mikkos warned, "if you break your brother's arm, I'll break yours." Both Helenas looked outraged at their husband's pronouncement. Younger Helena restrained her anger, realizing that her husband was very serious. She helped Stavros off his brother, leading him away from the threats of violence. Stefan rolled on his side, cradling his arm against his chest. Old Helena stared down at the young boy on the floor with contempt. "Stop wallowing and get off the floor, Stefan," both Helena's said in mystical unison. Old Helena laughed lightly, remarking, "It seems I haven't changed much..." "Hypocrite!" Tony laughed obnoxiously from across the room. "What?" Mikkos said, turning his attention to his brother. "How dare you condemn those children for actions that you yourself have committed? When we were children..." "Back down memory lane? Spare me!" he said, stepping over his son to cross to Tony's chair. "There is a difference." "I don't see a difference." "If it had been me, Tony, I would have broken your arm regardless of what Father said. That's the difference." Tony stood. "We're not children, now. Would you like to demonstrate?" "You've had too much to drink, Tony." "I can still hear your nagging voice, Mikkos. Evidently, I haven't had enough...Let's show your boys what a real sibling fight looks like..." Mikkos pushed his brother back down into the chair. "You have been nothing but an annoyance since you returned to the island and you are grating on my nerves. If you know what is in your own best interest, then you'll stay there." Tony sprang up out of the chair, jabbing his finger into his older brother's chest. "Don't tell me what to do!" The arguing frightened Alexis, but she crawled out from behind the Christmas tree anyway. She went to Stefan, who had finally made it into a chair. She climbed up beside him. "Are you okay?" Stefan stared across the room at Younger Helena, who was lavishing affection on Stavros. "Stefan?" "Yes, Alexis, I'm quite all right." "Is your arm broken?" "No...it's just a little achy..." "Wouldn't it have been funny if Uncle Mikkos had broken Stavros' arm?" Stefan smiled, putting his good arm around her shoulder. "No wonder I love you so much, Alexis. You're a girl after my own heart." Alexis giggled, snuggling closer. Old Helena continued to stare at the duo with hatred. "Hey," Luke said from behind her, “shouldn’t you be over there drooling all over your first born demon?" "What?" "Well, for someone who spends so much time singing Stavros' praises, you are spending an awful lot of time glaring at Stefan." "What can I say, the child irks me! Did you see the ruckus he just caused?" "They were both causing the ruckus." "It was Stefan's fault. It always was." "Ummmhmmmm...."Luke murmured unconvinced. Helena's eyes grew dark as she continued, "He was a constant thorn in my side. Have you ever met anyone who was completely boring? Completely joyless? Well, that's my second son. He didn't have an entertaining bone in his body." "Is that what you think kids are for, Helena? For your entertainment?" Helena's face clouded and then the conflict brought by the question faded. She smiled, "Of course not! Stefan was just unpleasant to be around." "Unpleasant how?" Luke probed. "Did he stink or something?" "I told you, he was boring. And the only emotion he was ever good at displaying was sadness. He couldn't even get angry correctly. Seriously, I found his presence depressing..." "Gee, I wonder why a kid would be depressed with a mother like you..." "Yes, depressing...his eyes were always so sad," she rambled, leaning over the chair to peer into her second son's expressive green eyes. "You wanna see something I'm not supposed to show you?" Luke asked, sticking one of the Christmas ornaments in his pocket. "Something I'm not supposed to see?" Helena asked curiously, turning from the children in the chair. "What?" "Do you want to see?" "Yes...but what exactly do you mean? Something from my past ...that I'm not-" "Shush up, Darlin', and let me show you," Luke ordered, moving to the middle of the room. He gave her a knowing smile and then snapped his fingers. A harsh gush of wind swept through the room, blowing the curtains and beating against Helena. She shut her eyes and held her hands up for protection. The wind subsided, leaving a calm stillness in the room. The music of Berlioz disappeared. She opened her eyes, only to find that there wasn't much difference. The once brightly lit room was now dark except for the faint twinkles of the Christmas lights and a soft glow from a lamp. Everyone had disappeared, leaving Helena and Luke the sole occupants of the room. “Where did everyone go, Luke?" "Well, Lamb Chop, it's been five or six hours. In case you don't remember, Tony and Mikkos made up without exchanging blows. They then drank an entire bottle of the special port in memory of their mother. You found some lame excuse to lock Alexis in her room for the rest of the night. The boys scampered off to bed to wait for Santa Claus, or whoever leaves gifts for demons. And you and your hubby got a little freaky and then went to bed yourselves." "Oh...so why are we still here?" "I'm going to show you something. Something that will answer your question." "What question?" "When you see the answer, you'll remember the question," Luke retorted, taking Helena's hand and dragging her from the room. She allowed herself to be pulled through the long dark corridors of the Grecian mansion. After a few minutes, he stopped. Softly he said, "Where are we?" Helena looked around. Immediately she replied, "The north wing." "What's over here?" "The same thing that's in every wing." "Anyone in particular stay in the north wing?" "I don't know...Tony's rooms are here...Stefan...The governess...Alexis moves down here in a few years. My sister Irene always stayed in the corner suite." "Oh, so this wing is pretty full?" "No," Helena said, looking around, "it should be quite empty. There's no real need for the governess. She's probably been fired by now. Alexis is still in the outside cottage. Irene's in...Lisbon, I think, with her third husband. Tony is working in London. Stefan is the only one who is usually here. He demanded to have the north wing. The boy likes to putter so..." "But Tony is here for the holidays?" "Yes, Luke! You saw him earlier." "He was pretty drunk..." "You would know...." "No need to be a meanie, Helena. I'm trying to help you." "I didn't ask for your help!" "Does Tony come often?" "Yes. This is his home." "Oh...." Helena tapped Luke's arm. “What are going to show me?" "Here," he said, pulling her against the wall. "Start paying attention." Across the hallway, a door creaked open. A dark form came to lean against the door frame. Tony's hand tapped nervously against the brass door handle. He seemed to be staring at something, but it was too dark to be sure. He stepped back, swiftly closing the door. Just as swiftly as he closed it, he opened it again, stepping out into the hallway. He stood there, his chest bare, his silk pajama bottoms clinging to his legs, and stared at the closed door that Helena and Luke stood next to. "What is he doing?" Helena asked, only to be shushed by her guide. In slow awkward steps, Tony crossed the wide corridor. He stood before the huge mahogany door, placing his hand on either side of the door jamb. His chest rose and fell in a harsh uneven rhythm. Suddenly, he pulled back, ran back across the hallway. He fell to his knees in the entrance to his own room. He doubled over as if he were in pain, his head between his knees. Helena watched in shock. She had known that Tony was a bit unstable, but never this much. Tony pulled himself up onto his hands and knees. He crawled determinedly back across the hallway to the closed door. He stood, reaching his hand out for the doorknob. He turned it, inching the door open. It creaked slightly as he went in. He closed and locked it behind him. "What was that?" Helena asked, turning to Luke. "What is Tony doing?" "This is your last chance to go back without knowing. You have to ask yourself if this is something that you want to know that you know..." "What kind of confusing language is that?" "Do you want to know?" "YES! What is my brother in-law doing?" "We're in the north wing Helena. Only two people are in the north wing. Do you really want to know that you know?" "What?!" Helena cried out in exasperation. "You are a baffling man, Luke Spencer. I already told you that I want to know. The last thing I need from you is mind games and verbal puzzles." "Very well, then." He walked through the wall, the solid material allowing him through as if it weren't there. Helena followed suit. They found themselves in a large bedroom. There was a cool Mediterranean breeze blowing in through the large open window. Helena recognized the room as Stefan's. She looked around, running her fingers over the spine of the leather volumes in his bookcase near the door. She jumped when Luke spoke. "This is the answer. What's the question, Helena?" She shook her head in confusion. Luke pointed and she turned to look in the direction he indicated. She saw Tony standing at the foot of the bed. He was standing there as if frozen. Helena came to stand behind him. She looked directly over his shoulder in hopes of seeing what he was seeing. All that was visible in the dim moonlight was a lump in the middle of the huge bed. Helena's breath caught in her breath and she walked through him, then turned to look at his face. She didn't like what she saw... ...Lust... "What are you doing, Tony," she asked, expecting an answer even though she knew he couldn't hear her. "I demand to know what the HELL you are doing in my son's room!" "Don't you know, Helena?" Luke asked, standing behind Tony, where Helena had just stood. "No! I don't know. Would I ask the question if I knew?" "You ask a lot of questions. Do you remember the one that prompted this little adventure in family revelations?" There was a new chill in the room, but not one that came from cool winds or open windows. One that came from fear. Stefan was awake and Helena knew that he was...And she knew that Tony knew it too. Stefan began to whimper, a low soft sound that bordered on the edge of hysteria and spoke of the most profound dread as Tony drew nearer the bed. In an odd emotionless voice, the man said, "Be quiet for Uncle Tony. Be a good boy..." Helena screamed then. She launched herself against Tony's back. Her attack didn't stop his approach. He couldn't even feel it. "Don't you dare!" she shrieked. "No one crosses me! No one betrays me in my own home!!!" Luke pulled an outraged Helena off of Tony. "There's nothing you can do. It's already happened." He took her back through the wall before they had to witness anymore. Screams rang through her head, but she wasn't sure if they were her son's or her own. "How dare he do that to me!" Helena shouted to drown out the agony in her head. "You? He didn't do anything to you." "He crossed me! In my own home, he dared to do something that vile...He had to have known that I would kill him for breaking my trust, his brother's trust-" "DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA WHAT YOU JUST SAW?" Luke roared at the top of his lungs. Calming down, he finished, "That had nothing to do with you or your trust. He didn't cross YOU! Do you ever think about anyone, but you? Do you ever stop to see the big picture?" "What are you trying to say?" "Why am I wasting my breath?!" Luke snapped, throwing up his hands in misery. "I don't even know why you're acting so shocked. It's not like you didn't know." "What!!! Are you trying to imply that I knew about....that?" "You did, Helena." "I did not! I wouldn't have allowed that...if I had known..." "But you did know. And you did allow it. Do you think that what you saw in there was the first time? Or the last?" Helena screamed, throwing her back against the wall. "I didn't know!! I DID NOT KNOW!! What are you accusing me of, Luke? What kind of vile perversion...blind negligence..." Helena clutched her stomach as a dozen images flashed before her. Images of her second son, things she almost saw, somber moments between uncle and nephew that she interrupted...that struck her as odd, that she discarded, forgot about, ignored... It was just Stefan, after all. He was an odd boy. And a bitter man... "I didn't know..." she shrieked, slumping to the floor. “How could I have known? He didn't tell me..." "Why would he tell you anything, Helena? You treated him like trash. You ignored and ridiculed him. You blamed him for some imaginary sin that justified your treatment of him. Why would he tell you anything. You wouldn't have believed." "I would have believed! I know...what it's like...I would have believed that!" "Funny, Helena, I don't BELIEVE you! You really do disgust me. You made it so easy for Tony! You helped him-" Helena sprang up, slapping Luke hard across his face. His Santa hat fell to the ground. "That is a lie! I did not!" "Didn't you? Didn't you make Stefan easy prey? Didn't you make him an outsider? A little boy with no one to trust. No one who cares? All alone in the north wing...your hands are dirty, too..." "NO!!" Helena screamed, her voice choking off as a tear finally managed to form in her eye. She fell against Luke. "NO! That's not true. I didn't do anything." "That’s right, you did nothing to stop it. Nothing to help." "I didn't know!" Helena's knees grew weak and she slid down to the ground, desperately clutching Luke's leg. "I didn't know, Oh, Luke, you have to believe me. I didn't know!" "Didn't you?" he asked with quiet disgust. There was a great rumble and the floor opened up, swallowing Helena. She fell through eons of flames and smoke. She was scorched and singed, burned and seared. She gagged and choked through her fall, Luke’s words following her, ringing through her head. Finally, the flames dried up and the ceiling of her bedroom spit her out into her large empty bed. What's past is past... |