| Chapter 8 With the towel swathed across the lower portion of his solid body, Stefan padded out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. Afew drops of water from his shower still clung to his chest, dripping in small glistening streams down the lines of his well defined abdominal muscles. "I was hoping you would have joined me, Douchenka," Stefan said, passing by the bed and into the walk-in closet. "Needless to say, I was disappointed." His fingers slid across the tops of the row of hangers to his left. Carefully, he selected a black pinstripe suit from the section of his closet devoted to pinstripe suits. He chose a black linen shirt and selected a tie, but placed it back on the spinning rack. He wasn't in the mood for a tie. He walked back out into the bedroom, tossing his clothes on the rumpled and sweaty sheets of the bed. "Celine," he said smoothly, dropping his towel to the floor, "Did you not hear me speaking to you?" Celine Cassadine's reaction was no reaction. She didn't move. She didn't speak. She simply laid where she was, staring up into blackness. The only form of communication from her were the quick panting noises she made, her chest rising and falling. Stefan smiled. He dressed slowly, taking his time. When he was fully dressed, he backed away from the bed. "I'm afraid I have to go, Douchenka. I must see if any progress has been made in finding Lucky Spencer and Emily Quartermaine. I shouldn't be long. You'll be here when I return?" She said nothing. Stefan sighed, walking back to the bed and dropping to his knees. He grabbed one of Celine's delicate ankles and pulled her roughly from underneath the bed in one swift motion. "I'm afraid that hiding under the bed won't provide you much refuge in the future. Next time, I will most definitely come after you." "Damn you!" she swore, trying to kick her foot loose, but failing as her husband's grip tightened. Stefan grinned wickedly, enjoying the predicament she was in with her foot firmly in his grasp. Her bare back was against the soft carpet and she rolled her head from side to side in annoyance. She looked up at him. "You think you're sooo incredible, don't you?" He stifled the laughter that was welling up within him. Instead, he started working the fingers of his free hand lightly along the sole of her ticklish foot. She immediately tensed, wriggling around on the floor. He delighted in her torture, now, just as he had when they had returned home from Alexis' penthouse. After their little romp in the elevator, Celine had been satiated and more than content to finally go to sleep. But, Stefan had different plans in mind. He wasn't nearly as blind as his wife thought, and he had been painfully aware of her roving glances over Luke Spencer and his torso. Hours later, she was completely exhausted and very much reminded of why looking was just as bad as touching. "I don't think, I KNOW..." Despite her anger at being manhandled and mauled, she began to laugh, lifting her back off the floor and leaning back on her elbows. "Jealousy doesn't become you," Celine giggled. "I wasn't jealous," he protested, pronouncing the word jealous as if it were the most offensive word ever uttered in reference to him. "I was merely concerned that you had forgotten who your husband was." "How could I forget?" she asked, smiling genuinely as she finally managed to liberate her ankle. She hopped up, pushing his squatting form and forcing both of them to fall over backwards onto the rug. She landed on top of him. She braced herself by putting a hand on either side of his head. She stared down into his eyes. "Why would I want to..." He slid out from underneath her, leaving her in an awkward position, one knee bent in, with her weight being supported by her hands and one foot. She looked as if she were about to do a poorly formed push-up. She lowered herself down to the floor, crossing her arms underneath her chin and watching him walk across the room to the dresser. Putting on his watch, he replied, "It was simply a reminder, my lovely Douchenka. Everyone is in need of one periodically." "When do I get to give you a reminder, Stef?" His eyes washed over her naked rear end as he smiled. "Is there something I need to be reminded of?" "Most certainly..." "Such as?" He strolled over to the door. There was no emotion on her face, but her voice carried a strong undercurrent of impatience and annoyance, "Such as the fact that Nikolas is a big boy and he doesn't need you to come rushing in to help him find his lost little brother." "What would you have me do? Leave Nikolas and Alexis to face Helena alone? If you think that I would do that, then you certainly have no idea of the man you've married," he responded crisply, turning the door knob. "Stef! Don't get angry!" "I'll call you later, Celine," he said crisply, walking out the door. "Stef!" she called after him. Before she could stop herself, she jumped up off the floor and streaked through the door. She caught up to him in the hallway, throwing herself against his back. Her arms went around his neck. "Don't take what I said the wrong way. I know that Nikolas needs you, but I've never been any good at sharing what's mine. And you are mine...I want you with me." "I want to be with you," he said, his back still rigid, "but Nikolas is going through a crisis." "When is he not going through a crisis? When is he not stuffing dead bodies in freezers, or trying to track down Internet pornographers, or falling off the sides of mountains, or getting shot? You might not want to face it," she said seriously, moving to face him, "but the boy is a walking disaster. Why don't you let him clean up some of his own messes and start paying attention to your wife?" She touched his cheek. "I need you, too..." Her typically cool gray eyes showed the least bit of warmth as she spoke to him. He felt incredibly connected to her as she expressed her need for him. "I love you, Douchenka," he said wearily, "but when Nikolas needs me, I am there for him. There is nothing to be gained from trying to dissuade me...except my wrath." "What you're saying," she seethed, pulling back, "is that you love me, but not as much as you love that boy..." "I'm not saying that-" "Oh, I heard you loud and clear! What I don't get is why...why do you insist on giving Nikolas everything you have when all he does is ridicule you, malign you, treat you like his servant! You deserve so much better, Stef! So much better than what that spoiled brat gives you-" "Stop it!" Stefan yelled, his eyes glowing with sheer rage. Celine ignored his outburst, grabbing his arm and continuing to speak,"-He's not worthy! All he does is hurt you with his lack of faith and lack of love. He's an INGRATE! Does he appreciate all of the things you sacrificed for him? The life you should have had. The family...YOUR OWN CHILDREN! Does he appreciate that you sacrificed your soul, little by little, to that battle ax of a mother of yours just to save his? Does he know what you gave up?! Does he care?! I'll answer that for you...Big fat NO!" Stefan shuddered at her utter gall. That she would ever say such things about his Nikolas, who was closer to his heart than anyone else could ever be, completely shocked him. Her fingers on his arm were suddenly like tiny daggers. He pulled her hand off of him. Through clenched teeth, he snapped, "This is not a conversation I care to have." "But it's one you need to have!" she barked, her heart racing at the strength of his anger, "He's making a fool out of you." Stefan stared at her closely for a long while, he pulled her to him, firmly holding the back of her neck. The gray eyes that he adored were hot with fury. And something else. Something he couldn't quite discern. It was cunning. It was wild. It was devious... It was all of those things, yet it was still mysterious. There was a missing ingredient that he couldn't define. He didn't know if he had ever actually seen it in anyone's eyes before. She trembled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as their eyes locked. She didn't like his silence. When she started her tirade against Nikolas, she hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected him to look beyond the surface and into the parts that she kept hidden. She didn't like being scanned. She didn't like being stared at like some kind of oddity. She set her jaw. "Stef?!" she yelled, trying to break the moment. "Are you listening to me?" His voice was low and hard as he said, "Oh, I'm listening, Celine. But I'm starting to wonder if it's you who's making a fool out of me..." * * * * * "Did you miss me, Lucky?" Despite his resolve to be strong, Lucky flinched at the sound of Faison's voice. He quickly reigned in his emotions, hoping that the numbness that had been his only friend during his previous captivity, would once again surface and save him from whatever the maniacal Cesar Faison had in store. At the same time, he wanted to keep his wits about him because, unlike before, he had Emily to think about. Emily to keep safe from both father and son. He worried that he would fail her and that some great harm would befall her. In the hours since he had been dragged from the room they shared, it had been all he had thought about. Emily was all alone and completely unprotected. As was he... He sat in a hard, unyielding wooden chair, surrounded by thick darkness. He knew that guards waited on the other side of the door. He had been instructed not to move, and even though every part of his body ached, he obeyed. He waited for hours, perched on an uncomfortable chair in the dark. The time passed slowly, leaving him ample time to lose his mind. Again.. . He couldn't be a prisoner again. Not again. He didn't know if he could stand the hopelessness of being powerless again. He didn't know if he would even try. By the time the door opened and Faison strolled in, Lucky was ready to scream. His chest constricted as he felt the hand on his shoulder and the sickening sound of the crazed Dutchman's voice. "Did you miss me, Lucky?" Faison smiled in satisfaction when he felt Lucky Spencer flinch. Time may have passed, but some things never changed. Lucky remained silent. He worked on trying to hide his fear. He had to be strong if he was going to save Emily. And himself. Faison squeezed the young man's shoulder viciously. "I asked you a question, Mr. Spencer!" Lucky was in pain, but he didn't cry out. Instead, he yelled, "Hell no, I didn't miss you, you crazy son of a bitch!!" Hooking his foot around the leg of the chair, Faison yanked it out from underneath Lucky. The young man yelped as he felt himself flying forward onto the cold cement floor. In a huff, Faison kicked the chair. It skittered into the wall with a loud crash. He put his finely crafted Italian loafer into the middle of Lucky's back and dug in, squishing him against the floor until he groaned. "That saddens me, Lucky, because I missed you. But it's okay, because now you're back where you belong. Back in my tender care..." "I'm going to kill you, Faison. With my bare hands...I am going to kill you!" Lucky vowed in a hoarse rasp, fighting for the breath to speak. Chuckling in amusement, the Dutchman ground his foot into Lucky's back. "Better men than you have made that exact threat, Lucky. None of them lived long enough to make good on it...or even lived long enough to regret saying it." "I hate you!" Faison removed his foot, squatting beside the boy. "Do you think I care?" He pulled a syringe from his pocket and jabbed it into Lucky's neck. Lucky felt the blackness thicken and tighten around him. The warm liquid raced through his veins. His limbs weakened, as did the sharp pain in his back. "You won't get away with this," he muttered as his eyes started to close. "Who's going to stop me?" Faison asked. He couldn't see him in the dark, but he knew that Lucky was feeling the effects of the drug. "Certainly not you..." "I...I can..." Lucky tried to fight, but he could feel reality slipping away. "I can stop you..." "How are you going to do that?" Faison snickered. He went down on one knee, pulling Lucky's head up by his hair. In his ear, he whispered, "How are you going to stop me when you can't even stand?" Before he lost consciousness, Lucky realized that he had been wondering the exact same thing. * * * * * "Good lord!" Alexis shrieked, moving out of the doorway, "You're bleeding!" "Is that what they taught you at Harvard?" Gia shot out, ushering Nikolas into the penthouse. "How to state the obvious? Cause, really...I think we all saw the blood and I think we all figured out that when blood pours out of an injury to your skin and onto various other EXTERNAL parts of your body, that you are, indeed, bleeding!" "Calm down, Gia," Nikolas said, his right hand clamped securely over the gunshot wound in his left shoulder. Blood dripped through the creases of his hand, running out over his wrinkled white shirt in a splash of red. "I know you're upset, but biting my aunt's head off isn't going to solve anything." Gia adjusted the satchel purse she had slung over her shoulder. Pouting, she snapped, "It made me feel better!" "Will someone tell me why my nephew is bleeding all over my carpet?" Alexis asked, her eyes opened wide in disbelief. She still stood by the open door, gawking after him. "Because he wouldn't consent to bleeding all over the hospital. Do you think you can talk some sense into his big rock head and get him to go the hospital?" Gia asked desperately, cupping Nikolas' face in her hand. "He's being stupid." "I object to the remark about my big rock head," Nikolas smiled. "I'm okay, Gia. It's not that bad!" "What's not that bad?" Luke asked, coming down the stairs in a pair of jeans and a gray tank top. He stopped on the landing when he saw Nikolas' arm. "What the hell happened to you, kid?" "That's what I'm trying to find out!" Alexis exclaimed, kicking the door closed. Luke came down stairs, and went to Nikolas. Despite Nikolas' protest, Luke moved his hand and inspected the wound. Luke grinned. "He's been shot, Natasha. As a Cassadine, that's something you shouldn't have to be told. You should just know." Gia dropped her purse on the sofa, taking a long deep breath. For the first time since the loud popping of the guns, she was able to relax a tiny bit. She was completely wound up and seeing Nikolas' bleeding arm hadn't done anything to cool the overwhelming sense of fear that was creeping through her. Add to that, the fact that she hadn't had any sleep and it was obviouswhy she was so on edge and sarcastic. She stared down at the dried blood on the back of her hand. The sight sent a chill racingdown her spine. She hid the hand behind her back and tried not to think of it. "He should be in a hospital!" "Why aren't you in a hospital?" Alexis asked. "I wasn't sure if it was safe. Gia and I were standing by my car near the docks when we were hit by a hail of gunfire, " Nikolas explained, dropping down on the arm of the sofa. His arm was burning from the bullet still lodged in his flesh. His head felt fuzzy, but he forced himself to stay focused. He had to stay strong for his brother and his friend. "Oh my God!" Alexis said, rubbing his uninjured shoulder. "How horrible! What is Helena thinking!!? It's one thing to go after Emily and Lucky...but Nikolas? She prides herself on loving you...why would she take this step?" "What makes you think it was Helena?" Gia asked. "You people have so many enemies running around. It could be anyone. Maybe even the mailman." She turned to Nikolas, "You did give him a gift this Christmas, right? Mailmen get testy when they think they're not being appreciated," Gia rattled, laying her hand on her boyfriend's back. He smiled, knowing that she was having a difficult time. Addressing Alexis and Luke, he admitted, "I think Gia might be right. This is not something Helena would do. Whether she loves me or not, she needs me alive to control the estate. She wouldn't try and kill me." Luke nodded. "We might be barking up the wrong tree. This might not be entirely Helena." "You think she's working with someone else?" Alexis inquired. Quietly, she ventured, "Like Faison?" "Faison is dead, Natasha," Luke said flatly, his eyes growing dark as he remembered the explosion that had taken Cesar Faison's life. "We don't know that. And, I won't rule it out. Not with so much on the line. If Helena had a plot, she would certainly enlist someone like Faison to do her dirty work," Alexis concluded. "Ummm....Did everyone forget that Nikolas is BLEEDING?! Can we get him to a hospital or something?" Gia said, popping up and standing directly in the middle of the conversation. Nikolas took her hand, pulling her back to sit on his knee. "I'll be okay for a few moments while we try to figure this out." "Then you'll go to the hospital?" "I told you I wasn't going to the hospital." Gia looked at him as if he were crazy. "You do realize that there is a bullet in your arm, don't you? Those things don't just magically dissolve away like the sugar in a pitcher of Kool Aid!" "Kool Aid?" "Your little Sassy Sue is right, Nikolas," Luke agreed. "You're going to have to take care of that arm. Why are you so opposed to going to the hospital?" Nikolas' face darkened, and his grip on his shoulder tightened involuntarily. Exhaling, he replied, "I have the feeling that the hospital is not the safest place to be." "What do you mean?" Nikolas reached around, pulling the large ticking package from Gia's purse. "We found this in the Jag. It's addressed to Alexis." Alexis hesitantly took the package from Nikolas. Luke heard the faint ticking and ripped it from Alexis' hand. He held it to his ear, saying, “It’s a bomb! This is all some Cassadine plot to kill me, right? Fake bullet wounds...Count Vlad sent you! Or was it you, Natasha?" "Shut up, Luke," Alexis replied rolling her eyes. She pulled the package from his arms. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't use tricks. I'd just come out and do it." "Wooo," he smiled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "That's good to know." "If it's for me, then why was it in your car?" Alexis questioned, holding the box at arms' length. Nikolas gave her a lopsided shrug. "I have no idea, but the gunfire didn't start until after we discovered the package. It's as if someone didn't want us to give it to you." "That doesn't explain how they knew it was in the car if they didn't put it there themselves. None of this makes any sense," Gia complained. "And meanwhile, Nikolas is bleeding to death. Please, just go to the hospital." Luke waved his hand in the air. "Maybe, for once in his life, the prince is right, we all need to keep low profiles. We don't know who is out there gunning for us." "So, what do you expect us to do about Nikolas' gun shot wound? Sit around this dumb penthouse and watch it fester? He's going to bleed to death!!" Gia barked nastily. "I'm not going to bleed to death!" Nikolas barked back. "You might..." Luke said, "unless you let me take the bullet out." "What?!” Alexis said, setting the package on the table. "You're NOT a doctor." "But I'm a pro, nonetheless. No one digs a bullet out like Lucas Lorenzo Spencer. Ask anybody." "I think I'd rather bleed to death," Nikolas responded seriously. "Go right ahead. I'll have Alexis pop some more popcorn and I'll sit on the sofa and watch, kid. It might even be fun," Luke said. He wasn't surprised when Alexis jabbed him in the ribs. Alexis glowered at her significant other. "That's not funny." "Who's trying to be funny?" Gia stomped her foot, shouting, “See! See what I have to put up with? Nikolas won't let me take him to the hospital. He insisted on coming here. Here! Like anybody around here knows anything about anything!" "Towels," Luke said, pulling a pocket knife out of his pants pocket. "We need towels for the blood and whatever. Sassy Sue, you go find the bathroom and get the prince, here, some towels." Gia stood up. "What did you call me?" "Sassy Sue..." Gia got in Luke's face. "You're pushing it, here, Papa Smurf! Now, I know folks like you are used to being shot at, but this is my first time. I am about to lose my damn mind!! So, I suggest, unless you want a nine and half heel lodged in your forehead, that you reign in those cutesie little remarks and get away from Nikolas with that knife!!!" Luke put up his hands defensively. "Chill, hon. No need to blow a gasket. I'm just going to pick the bullet out of Nikky's arm. Not cut him up into little bite-size Cassadine pieces." "You're actually joking about that?!" Gia put her hands on her hips. "I wouldn't be a Spencer if I didn't." He replied coolly. Gia smirked, backing away. "I don't like you." "Yes, you do," Luke replied, closing his knife. "Besides, I like you. I live for spunk." "Umm...does anyone remember that Nikolas is bleeding?" Alexis questioned. "We have to get him to a hospital." "Natasha's right. As much as I want to take a knife to you, Nikolas, it's probably a bad idea." Gia applauded. "Finally, someone is making some sense! We need to go to the hospital!!!" Nikolas stood. "I have this gut feeling that the hospital is dangerous." "Luke," Alexis said shaking her head, "why don't you ask Sonny if he has any personal doctors that make house calls." "Great idea," Luke replied, "I'll go over there right now." He kissed Alexis' cheek, quickly exiting and walking across the hall. "Are you happy, Gia?" Nikolas asked, looking confidently into her eyes. "Luke will get a doctor and I'll be fine." She hugged him, being careful of his shoulder. "I hope you're right..." Alexis drifted back to the package on the table. She read the card with her name on it, tossing it aside. Quickly unwrapping the box, she opened it. Carefully, she pushed the white tissue paper aside, revealing a glass dome. Enclosed inside the dome was the tennis ball sized golden face of a clock. The clock face was supported by the shiny and detailed figure of a porcelain ballerina in pink attire. The ballerina's face was lifted upwards toward the clock. Alexis lifted the clock from the box with shaky hands. Automatically, her hands found the dial on the back of the base and wound it tightly. A lovely melody filled the room as the ballerina began to slowly turn in a circle, the beautiful golden face of the clock turning with her. "Oh God!" Alexis shrieked in a voice filled with tight emotion. "No, no, no, no..." Nikolas and Gia came up behind her. "What's going on? What is that?" Alexis' hands were shaking so badly that Gia had to take the clock from her and set it on the desk. As the older woman's eyes welled up with tears, she walked backward until she ran into the closet door. The feel of the wood was like a jolt to her entire system. She clutched her hands together in the middle of her stomach. "That..." she said, "that is Helena's way of saying hello." "What do you mean? It's just a very lovely clock," Gia said with concern. She didn't like how pale and sickly Nikolas' aunt suddenly looked. Maybe she needed a doctor, too. "It's a message..." "Alexis, you're not making any sense," Nikolas said. "I don't understand. What does this thing..." he looked toward the clock, which still played its haunting tune, "mean?" Alexis began to cry. "It means, I have something of Helena’s and she's going to destroy everything I love until she gets it back..." * * * * * He stared at the incompetent fool before him. "Where are they now?" Fillian shrank underneath his employer's withering glare. Forcing himself to look the man in the face, he replied, "Both the boy and the girl ran from the scene. We followed them to Alexis Davis' penthouse." "Did they have the package?" "Yes, sir, I'm afraid they did," Fillian responded. The man slammed his fist down on the table before him. "You idiot! You and your incompetent cohorts may have just ruined everything!" The man slid out of his seat, quickly closing the space between Fillian and himself. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a gun and placing it against his employee's forehead. "I am terribly disappointed. And," he said in a crisp and calm tone, "I don't like to be disappointed. I gave you two simple tasks. One: Reclaim the package...did you do that?" Fillian fought to keep himself under control. The butt of the gun was cool against his forehead. He began to sweat and his stomach churned violently. "No...no, sir, I didn't." The man nodded. "Two: I asked you to miss the children in the black Jaguar. Did you do that, Mr. Fillian?" "No, sir, I didn't..." "So, you are telling me that you have failed on all fronts?" "Yes..." "You're telling me that you did NOT reclaim the package?" "Yes..." "You're telling me," the man said, his voice dropping very low and his tone becoming full of rage, "that you wounded the boy in the black Jaguar?" "Yes, sir, but it was his fault. He moved right in the way-" The man cocked the gun, silencing Fillian's excuse. "Don't blame others for your own mistake. Now...you are going to have to pay for this, Mr. Fillian." "Ho..how?" The man cocked his head to the side, as if mulling over the question. He pulled the gun away from the man's head and tapped the side of his own head with it. "I could send you back out to get the package." "I'll get it this time, sir! I won't fail you!" "Of course you won't," the man cooed. "Because I'm not sending you back out." "Oh, sir-" "I said you have to pay..." "Anything sir, I just beg a second chance..." The man smiled as he aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. Stepping over Fillian's fallen body, he said, "No one gets a second chance..." |