| Chapter 22 "Why are you up here, Douchenka?" Stefan asked, appearing out of nowhere and standing directly behind her. His warm breath fell against her neck. His hand clamped down over hers, holding it tightly against the brass door knob. “What kind of game are you and my mother playing? Celine was, by profession, an assassin. Trained in the art of death and combat by the notorious Wilhelm Victor, a homicidal monster that used to decapitate people for sport, she had gone on to be the prized jewel in the DVX's arsenal of agents. For years, when something needed to be done, from murdering prominent international figures to exterminating rebels that threatened the DVX's activities, Celine was the first person called in to take on the duty. She was good at what she did. She had no mercy, no conscience, and no desire to feel. She may have loved her job, but her job no longer loved her. The mess with Trina and Stavros had taken its toll, leaving her drained, with her reputation in ruins, and no real choice but to take the retirement forced on her by the agency. As far as international intrigue was concerned, the retirement of Celine Kanafanas signaled that she was washed up. But, retired didn't mean that she had lost her touch. She was now, as she had always been, a cold blooded killer. Her reflexes quick and her instinct deadly. So, when Stefan had appeared behind her suddenly, his grip hard, his demeanor threatening, her body had reacted. Her left elbow flew back into Stefan's chest, connecting with rib. As he was gasping in surprise, Celine leaned forward, twisting her wrist and the set of keys with it. She brought three keys into the inside of his wrist, scraping the metal tines against his flesh until it lost it's fierce grip on her hand. She dropped the keys, reaching for his pained wrist. With the agility of a cat, she pulled his arm up, slipped underneath it until she was behind him, and then used all the force she could muster to twist, pinning it behind his back. By now, she knew what was going on. She smiled wryly at the back of her husband's head. Pressing herself against him, she got on her tip toes to angrily whisper in his ear, "Don't sneak up on me." The words lured Stefan from his shock. He had been more than surprised when she had launched her elbow into his side. He hadn't a moment to react before he found he had lost the upper hand. The very idea that she could handle herself like that had aroused him to no end. But, remembering the situation, he knew now was not the time to show her any weakness. In a flash, Stefan reversed their positions, pushing her against the wall beside the door and immobilizing her arm. Smugly, he responded, "A man's not supposed to be attacked in his own home." "Then a man should know better than to behave like a lunatic!" she shot back. Her cheek was squished against the dark striped wall paper. Her arm, though he wasn't hurting it, was starting to fall asleep. Stefan smirked, secretly admiring her fire. He felt the twinge in his side from her elbow and the slight trickle of blood on his arm from her key attack. Such a vicious woman, he thought. "I suppose you wish to be released..." "I don't need you to release me, Stef," Celine laughed haughtily, " I could free myself if the need were to arise, but then, you'd end up hurt and neither of us want that...so, yes...release me." He dropped her arm and took a step back. She swiveled around, gazing up at him with jovial gray eyes. She tossed her hair back, licking her red lips. She moved forward, allowing her pelvis to lead her forward until it made contact with Stefan. She smashed her breasts against his chest, tilting her head to the side to reveal her long slender neck. His lips sought out the tender skin she exposed, kissing it with gentle pecks. When he stopped, she murmured, "More..." "Why do you tempt me so?" "Because I can..." He began to suck on her neck, pulling a bit of flesh between his teeth as she groaned, her arms wrapping around him. He stopped himself again, taking her head into his hands. "I was looking for you, Celine. Do you care to tell me why I found you up here entrenched in conversation with my mother?" "We're back to that, are we?" she asked sullenly. The last thing she wanted to discuss was Helena. "So, you did hear me before? When I surprised you?" "Yeah," she admitted with a smile, "I heard you." "Then you obviously knew it was me when you attacked..." "Not exactly." Stefan's eyes narrowed as he studied her face. Who was this woman he had married? He was starting to think that he had never even met the real Celine, the shape-shifter that lurked below the surface, ready to pounce. "What does that mean?" She flinched, once again sensing that he was scanning her, trying to absorb every secret part of her. She hated it, but felt powerless against the exotic green of his eyes. She couldn't stop him for he possessed her as no other man had. She was his completely. All of her. Body. Soul. And soon, she feared, her secrets would belong to him as well. "It means," she explained, "that I attack first and think later. You were already bleeding by the time I had processed the fact that you were my husband. I'm sorry if I hurt you." "I'm sorry that I didn't take you at your word. I know that you informed me that you were easily startled...I'll remember that next time." He moved his hands to her shoulders. "There won't be a next time. I just want to be sure that you know that I didn't mean to inflict any pain on you..." she giggled, "I mean, any pain that you didn't ask me to inflict." Her tone became somber as she said, " I know that you haven't led an easy life...that you've been mistreated by the women in your life. I don't want to give you any reason to doubt me, Stef. Not my loyalty. Not my love." Stefan's face was impassive as he listened to her. He held his feelings in check, but inside, his heart raced. Could he believe in her? Should he dare? "I don't want to doubt you, Douchenka." "Then don't." "Sometimes, you make it hard not to. Like today...why all of the deception?" Celine shook her head in confusion, "What deception? When have I deceived you?" "When you stole the keys to Helena's room from my pocket." Celine grimaced. She must be getting rusty. "Yeah...Okay, I did do that. " "Why?" "Because I needed to see Helena privately." "What do you have to say to my mother that you can't say in front of me?" he asked suspiciously. The lie was unusually tangy on Celine's tongue as she replied, "Nothing." "Then what were you talking about?" "Why are you badgering me about this?!" She stormed, trying to pull away from him. He held onto her. "Answer the question!" "You don't want to know the answer!" He retreated from her, his hands falling to his side, his eyes losing focus. "Just answer the question," he swallowed. "We were talking about you..." She was dying to tell him the truth. The urged burned inside her like a forest fire, ravaging the siege of lies that her mind had prepared. She lowered her head, her eyes falling to the sparkling diamond on her finger. Her wedding rings shone with the flickers of orange light that fell from the overhead fixture. The rings were a symbol of the bond that they had, of the love that they shared. She was terribly afraid that the truth would irreparably tear that bond. She had never had love before and now that she did, she knew that she would never be able to relinquish it. She lifted her head, allowing her smoky gray eyes to meet his leery green ones. She had love, but she had no faith in it. She would lie. She knew that before she opened her mouth and that knowledge cut her to the bone. For once, she didn't want to lie. With the appropriate amount of contrition, she finished, "I knew you would be mad, that's why I didn't want you to know. That's why I stole the keys instead of asking for them. I know what she's done to you...how she's made you doubt things like love, loyalty, even happiness. As your wife, I felt it was my duty to set that evil old woman straight. I told her that her days of playing games with your head were over. " She noticed with satisfaction that he seemed to believe her. His face softened, his posture became less rigid. "I lost my temper, actually. I made it very clear that I wasn't Lasha or any of those other cream puffs you were with. I...well, I even threatened to do her bodily harm..." "You're hardly the first person to want to murder my mother." "Probably not, but I bet I'm the first one who threatened to knock her off using a staple gun, tin foil, and two gallons of paint thinner." Stefan smiled, taking her into his arms. "Thank you for caring, Douchenka, but please stay away from Helena. This, I must insist. " Celine kissed him deeply. "I love you, Stefan. And no matter what anyone else may say, that is the truth. I will do whatever I have to do to protect you." "I don't need protecting." "We'll never agree on that one," Celine said, her hands creeping up his chest, "But I can think of something else we usually agree on." "And that would be?" Stefan asked in amusement as she started to unbutton his jacket. "Playtime." "Oh, Celine," he groaned into her soft mane of hair. "You were correct earlier. I have more important things to do. Nikolas is still unaccounted for...as is my brother. I can't just disappear in the middle of a crisis." "Yes, you can, Stef! You need to unwind, release some of that tension that's building up in you so that you can think clearly." Finished with his jacket, she moved to the buttons on his shirt. "The best way to do that is by letting me take you to our room...to play." "Celine!" "Stef!" she mocked him, pulling his wrists into her hands. She lowered her lips to the cut she had made with the keys. "You deserve a break." He looked hesitant. He really didn't have time. She pouted, her red lips wet and glistening as she stared at him with eager eyes. He could feel himself give in to temptation. "How do you want to play?" She tossed her hair back in victory. "Rough," she said in a low sensuous tone. "Alright! I give in," he announced, swiftly tossing her over his shoulder. She moaned in anticipation. He pulled the long forgotten keys to Helena's room out of the lock and placed them in his pocket before bounding off down the hallway. "Celine shall get what Celine deserves." * * * * * Nikolas paced absently in the hallway outside of the waiting room. Gia had been in surgery for over an hour and they still hadn't heard anything about her condition. He was on edge, fearing the worst. Dr. Thornhart had been optimistic, but had still warned them that there were dangers. Anything could go wrong while they were removing her spleen. He stopped, falling against a wall. "I don't know what I'll do if I lose her," he whispered, running his hand through his thick black hair. "Don't worry," Stavros said, squeezing his son's shoulder, “Everything will be fine." Nikolas nodded, feeling a momentary connection to the man he barely knew. "Thank you." "And even if she dies, there are plenty of other women out there." "Excuse me?" Nikolas asked in disbelief. "I know that you like this Gia person, but let's be rational. She's just a woman. There's nothing special about any of them. Being with one is like being with any other," Stavros explained seriously, "But, if you like street urchins, I am sure that there are more where she came from....more attractive ones, too. She's a little on the gangly side, anyway." Nikolas could not believe that his father could be so callous. In a rage, he turned, slamming his fist against the side of his father's face. "You Bastard!" he screamed, watching as Stavros fell to the ground. The older man lay on the cool linoleum, a streak of blood pooling down his face from the cut in his temple. He rolled over onto his side, groaning from pain and anger. His son was really starting to annoy him. Tracy rounded the corner just in time to see her husband slump down onto the floor. She walked quickly down the corridor, bending over to look down on her husband. "My, my...look how the mighty have fallen," Tracy grinned, her delighted eyes went back and forth between father and son. "I seem to sense some tension between you two..." "I don't know this man!" Nikolas seethed, pulling out his cell phone. "He's a complete stranger to me. I'm going to call my real father. Stefan!" Stavros sprang up, ripping the phone from Nikolas' hand and throwing it against the wall. It burst in flying shards of black plastic and wires. The men's eyes locked. Stavros rose to his full height, fiercely grabbing Nikolas' chin between his thumb and index finger. "Stefan is not your father. I am! And don't you ever forget it!... My pathetic little brother has coddled you far too much! He has failed to teach you what it is to be a man. You are weak! And no son of mine will be weak! From now on, I will dedicate myself to teaching you the finer aspects. Even if I have to beat them into you!" "You're a beast," Nikolas railed, viciously pushing his father's hand away. "You're a monster! All of my life, people have been very careful not too say too much about you. Even Stefan tried to make you seem less disgusting than you actually are. But now...now I see for myself who you are! And I am so glad that you left me! I am glad that, in every way that counts, Stefan is my father!" "Why must you provoke me?!" Stavros screamed, shaking his fists in the air. He was absolutely furious. This was Stefan's fault! Always it was Stefan undercutting him, or standing over his shoulder waiting for him to make a mistake, or sleeping with his wife. Turning his own son against him! Or, trying to steal the only things he had left in the world. His power. His confidence. Stavros took a deep breath. Stefan wouldn't take anything else from him. His little brother had no idea what the truth was and Stavros would see that it stayed that way. Turning away from his son, he regained his sleek composure. "Go to the front desk and check on Miss Campbell’s' condition." "Don't tell me what to do!" Nikolas yelled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Grow a brain, Kid," Tracy interrupted, "And get out of here before your father hurts you. He has a nasty temper." Nikolas started to resist, but reconsidered when he saw the evil glare Stavros was sending his way. Without saying anything, he swiveled on his heel and stalked off to check on Gia. When he was gone, Tracy moved behind her husband, her long slender fingers slipping up his back to rub his shoulders. "Let some of that tension go, Cassadine," she said in a feathery whisper. "My son, Tracy...he's ruined." "You don't need him. He's dead weight." "Dead weight..." Stavros muttered, the words rolling around in his brain. His face lightened with a meaning Tracy didn't intend. Soon, it darkened again as he pushed the idea aside. He would only do something that rash if there was no other choice. Suddenly he spun around, grabbing Tracy's hands. He was momentarily overtaken by an intense sense of insecurity. His breathing sped up, nearly choking him. His eyes were large as he demanded, "Tell me you love me, Quartermaine. I need to hear it!" Inside, Tracy groaned. She hated it when he had these sudden attacks of anxiety. She cursed Helena Cassadine for ruining a perfectly good man with her suffocating control. "Hey," she said, cupping his face with her hands, "you know that I love you. I love you, Stavros. You're virile, handsome, and so very strong... " "I'm perfect?" he asked in a small quivering voice. "Absolutely perfect!" Tracy lied, kissing his cheek. She could feel his breathing slow. She slid her lips over to his temple, kissing the blood that had dried there. "The most perfect man I've ever met..." "Is it obvious?" "To anyone with eyes...I knew the first time I saw you. Do you remember when we met, Cassadine?" Stavros shook off the last bits of anxiety, smiling at his wife. He didn't love her, but he needed her. Sometimes, need could be far more powerful than anything else, be it love, vengeance, or anger. Tracy was his lifeline. She had been since the first day... "How could I forget?" She dumped the martini in his lap. "I don't accept drinks from slimy weasels," Tracy had said, staring indignantly into Stavros' hard dark eyes. He had reached out, taking the empty glass from her hand and standing up at his table in the darkened Italian restaurant. "What do you accept from slimy weasels?" he smiled. "Anything you want, Tracy Quartermaine, I will shower at your feet." Her eyes had narrowed in suspicion. "How do you know my name?" His eyes had slithered over face with a devouring gaze. "I'm Stavros Cassadine. There's nothing I don't know." Tracy had been sent reeling by the name. She knew that name. "Oh," she smiled, "then you must know that you're dead." He stepped closer, boldly stroking her cheek. "Alas, dead men tell no tales. What I know, I rarely share, unless it's with someone special." "And I'm special?" "Very much so." "You think you're so smooth..." she remarked, instantly intrigued with the distinguished looking man. "Smooth? No. Daring? Yes." He put his lips against hers, drawing her into a kiss. "Will you come home with me, Tracy," he purred against her cheek. Tracy felt a chill run down her back as her body reacted to the masterful kisses. "I don't even know you..." "But you will..." he cooed, “Very well...” Both Tracy and Stavros chuckled at the memory. "You see, I may have tried to play hard to get, but I knew a real man when I saw one. And you, Cassadine, are a real man." "Marrying you was a splendid idea, Tracy." "Wasn't it, though?" she smiled. Stavros pulled her into an embrace. "I want everyone to know. Let's have a small gathering and announce are union, as well as my resurrection, to the world." "You want to have a party?" "Yes," he replied, his eyes glittering with the idea, "we'll invite your family and mine...a few other guests, as well." "Why?" "Don't question my plans!" he snapped, pushing her away. "Just make the arrangements." "Don't yell at me or order me around!" she snarled. "Just do it, Quartermaine!" "Fine! I'll do it, but there’s no way I’m doing all the work. What are you going to do?" An evil grin graced his face as he replied, "I'm going to take care of the fireworks." Somehow, Tracy knew that Roman Candles and Sparklers were the farthest thing from his mind. And that made her smile, too. * * * * * "Just do like I said, all right? Pack up and get the heck out of Paris. Sonny's arranging to get you, your mom, and Lu to a safe house," Luke barked in frustration, cradling his cell phone against his ear as he sagged on a stone bench in the rose garden. Laura's voice buzzed in his ear as he grilled him for details. He tried to skate around telling her the truth. He just wasn't in the mood for the hysterics that would ensue if he told her what was really going on. That Lucky had been taken...AGAIN. That Stavros might be after her...AGAIN. It had been days and he was practically drained. The last thing he needed was to worry about Laura falling apart. So, he chose not to tell her. All he said was that Helena was making threats and that he wanted her protected just in case. It seemed to be the longest five minutes of his life as she kept badgering him for answers and refusing to leave. "I'm not going to fight with you about this!" he stormed. "Pack, or Sonny's men will pack for you when they get there. Either way, I'm going to protect my little girl from Helena!" When he heard her injured cry pour from the receiver, he softened his voice, gently saying, "I'm sorry that I yelled, Angel. I'm just under a lot of stress. Please...just go along. You know me. You know Helena. I wouldn't insist that you leave Deception unattended if it wasn't necessary. I know how much it means to you...but Lulu matters much more. To both of us." He winced when he heard Laura's next question. Sucking in breath, he replied, "Of course, my concern is for more than just Lulu. You mean a lot to me, too. How could you not? You're the mother of my children. You're my Angel..." After a bit more coaxing and placating, he managed to get his ex-wife to agree. The muscles in his back began to relax. Finally, a moment of peace. "Hmm...after all this time...Laura's still your angel, Luke? You don't know how very interesting I find that little tidbit of information." Luke turned around to find Alexis standing at the gate to the garden, staring at him with probing brown eyes. From the set of her jaw, he could tell that his moment of peace had slipped away. "How long have you been standing there?" "Long enough." "Long enough?" "Long enough," Alexis started in a crisp manner, "to hear you blather on about how much you care about, and I quote, *the mother of your children. Your Angel*..." The word angel rolled off her tongue like the most vile word ever introduced into creation. The syllables were hard, each letter coated in acidic venom and spewed forth in hate. Her head cocked to the side, her lips ready to shoot off some severe retort to whatever Luke had to say next. She was ready, her arms crossed over her chest, her shoulders held back in confident lawyer mode. Luke stood, approaching her with a slow gait and wary eyes. "Simmer down, Natasha. You know that Laura and I are still friends. We discussed it like rational people. You said it didn't bother you." "I lied." "Alexis...I'm not in the mood for this-" "Then get in the mood," she sniped, unfolding her arms and poking him in the chest with one long manicured fingernail. "Do you think I'm just going to stand aside and let you make a fool out of me?" Luke groaned. "HOW am I making a fool out of you? You're not making any sense at all...oh, I get it! It's PMS, right? Look, Darlin', just take a pill or something..." By the time he realized that he probably shouldn't have said that, it was already too late. Alexis' eyes burned dark with fury. "You lying, cheating, Neanderthal! How dare you?!" "Hey!" he smiled, grabbing her arms to keep her from storming off, "Neanderthal...I deserve that. What's with the lying and cheating part, though? What did I do to make you so upset?" Alexis looked up to the sky, staring absently as the fluffy white clouds chugged along their way. She recognized that it was beautiful, that the roses that filled the garden, and the sweet summer air were fantastic gifts of nature to be cherished, but, while she recognized it, she found that she couldn't feel it on the inside. The blues, bright reds, and vivid greens all did about as much for her as the faded gray of Luke's shirt. She was a jumble of dampened emotions and unexpressed fear. When she had overheard Luke talking so intimately with Laura, all of that had exploded inside her in a cry of petty jealousy. "She wants you to come to her, doesn't you?" Alexis asked, but it wasn't really a question. It was a statement of fact. "How did you know?" Luke asked incredulously. "Because I know Laura. She knows how to play the game." "And what game would that be?" "The oldest game in the world," she replied frankly, "the one that goes on between a man and a woman. You may be happy as friends, but Laura IS NOT! She never will be. She wants you back, Luke, but you refuse to see it. Right now, she's rubbing her little palms together, trying to figure out the best way to play the victim in peril to your suave hero. If she can get you to Paris, then she can have you all to herself. That's why she, most likely, only agreed to go to the safe house if you met her there. Am I right?" Luke nodded, in awe of the way Alexis was able to read the situation. That was exactly what had happened. She had agreed to go with Sonny's men, only if he dropped everything and raced to Zurich to reassure her. "You're right, Natasha, but I have no intention of going to see her until we find Lucky and Emily. That is my top priority. As far as Laura wanting me back, that is so far off base! If she wanted me back, why would she have moved, not only herself, but Deception's headquarters, thousands of miles to Paris? It makes no sense." "It makes plenty of sense to her!" Alexis argued, staring at her lover with a caustic glare, "She took Lulu and moved to Paris because she wanted your attention. She wanted you to come after her. Why are you incapable of seeing that woman for the manipulative, clingy, victim that she is?!" "Damn it, Alexis! What is this really about? Because it's not about Laura! You don't give a flying turd-on-a-stick about her and you never have. Tell me what's going on!" Luke demanded, forcing her to look him in the eye. "I WANT MORE..." she screamed, pulling out of his arms and backing up until her back was against the hot wroth iron of the fence, "All my life, I've never been special to anyone. I've always been the inconvenience. Someone's mistress or someone's rebound or one of the guys. I've never, ever been anyone's angel...Just the one that gets cast aside in the end. I'm tired of crumbs, Luke!!!" Alexis closed her eyes, tears leaking down from the corners of her eyes. "Why can't I be your angel?" she cried. "Because you're no angel, Natasha!" Luke roared fiercely, grabbing her arms. She tried to resist, but he overpowered her, shaking her until she opened her eyes and looked at him. She looked utterly shattered, and he felt himself aching on the inside for the woman he loved. Despite the ache, he continued. "You will never be anyone's angel...because you're not built that way. You're not soft. You're not gentle. You don't need to be protected or coddled. You're a gunslinger, Baby! And you are one of the best partners I have ever had. That's saying something... along the lines of Robert Scorpio. Sonny Corinthos." "Those are men, Luke!" "That's the point, Alexis! I don't compare you to Laura because there is no comparison to be made. I used the word partner because that's what you are, my partner. I've never had that with a woman before. This is an equal relationship. Do you know how refreshing that is to me? Not to have to be the hero all the time? To not have to be the savior? I know that I don't have to save you! And even more than that, I know that if I get into trouble, that you will save me! I mean, everyday, you save me...just by loving me enough to take me as I am! Empty Scotch bottles and all." "How can you say that?" she moaned. "Just yesterday I was curled up in the closet like a lunatic! I'm none of what you say, Luke!" "We all have our off days, Natasha," he replied with a lop sided grin. "No one is strong all the time. When you need me to be strong for you, I will. You do the same for me. How many times have you kept me off of death row? Just the other day you raced into Lucky's room like a banshee when I got bonked on the head with that guitar. We faced down dueling commando squads...I'm not going to knock what I had with Laura. It was special and it lasted almost twenty years. But, the fact is, I'm different now and I'm exactly where I want to be. With the woman I love." Alexis dried her tears, feeling incredibly embarrassed for falling apart. "I'm sorry, Luke...I shouldn't have doubted you. It's just hard to be a real person right now. I'm so worried for Emily and Lucky. Nikolas is missing. Stavros is alive...it's just too much." "Shhh..." he cooed, taking her hand and leading her from the garden. "We both need a release." She fell against his side, one of his arms snaking around her side as they walked back to the house. "Will you make love to me?" she asked. "If that's what you want." "It is," she nodded. Perhaps, she thought to herself, they could save each other. If only for a little while... * * * * * Nikolas remembered the first time he ever held her in his arms. She was so soft, and he felt that just being able to touch her was like the greatest of blessings. As he stood in a nondescript hallway, his back against the light peach wall, he realized that Gia had become the reason he awoke each morning. The love she gave him inspired him to be a better person, to see things from angles that he had never before considered. No matter what, he vowed he would never give her up. How could you give up the air that you breathe? How could you give up the arch in your foot? He needed her as he had never needed anyone before. That was why he was so incredibly scared. Even though Dr. Thornhart had told him that the surgery was successful, he still couldn't let go of the panic. Not until he saw her. She was still unconscious and would be for hours more. As soon as the nurse came to get him, he could go to her. His thoughts were interrupted as a blur of aquamarine scrubs raced past him. He leaned out from against the wall in time to make out Ian Thornhart's face before he rounded the corner. "Dr. Thornhart?!" Nikolas called out, his legs kicking into gear to follow behind him. The worse raced through his mind. Though it could be any of the man's patients, there was a knowing ache in Nikolas' gut that told him it was Gia. Gia was in trouble. He saw Ian duck into the recovery room. Nikolas began to run. When he reached the door, he immediately threw it open. He was greated by the sight of three distraught nurses conferring with the doctor. "What's going on? Has something happened to Gia?" Nikolas demanded. Ian's eyes were wild with disbelief as he muttered, "She's gone..." Nikolas paled as he stumbled back. "She's dead?" "No!" Ian barked, running a hand through his short cap of sandy hair, "She's GONE! She's disappeared and we have no idea where she is!" |