by GrandDuchess
As he fondled his gun with the unrestrained worship usually reserved for the soft skin of a lover, Stavros laughed viciously. "Don't look so glum, Mother," he exclaimed, "for today is the last day of the rest of your life." His eyes drifted over the group of people that he had assembled on the yacht. There was nothing he loved more than an audience.
Laura sat in a chair to his right, trembling violently as she tried to come to grips with the fact that the monster was not dead, but very much alive. Beside her, Nikolas stared on in complete shock, his arms hanging limply at his side, his eyes holding the glazed look of incomprehensibility that came just before insanity settled in. Luke and Helena were in front of him. Luke looked to be contemplating his next plan of attack while Helena looked as if, for the very first time, that she had no plan at all.
He smiled smugly, taking great pleasure in knowing that he had taken her off guard. She'd never seen this coming, had never even considered that she was on the list of those who would have to pay for their crimes against him. His mother...she thought she was so invincible, so untouchable, so brilliant...it really was a shame that she was so deluded. She was none of those things and she was nothing to him. Just a vehicle to reclaim what belonged to him. Valuable only as his cloak to the world. When all was said and done, he'd need someone to take the fall for his misdeeds.
Stavros looked over to his brother. Stefan looked shaken, as if he wasn't sure what was going on or what he could do about it. Still, he stood straight, staring at his older brother with unveiled contempt. Stavros rolled his eyes, saying, "I think it's time we settle things. I'm sorry to have to inform you of this, but everyone will not be leaving this yacht tonight. Some of you are slotted for death." He raised his gun with a flourish, snickering as Nikolas blanched.
"The first to die will be...."
"Hmmm...."
He circled around the room, coming up behind Helena. He pressed the barrel of the gun against the back of her head. "You."
He cocked the hammer. "Will you die for me, Mother. Nice and slow so that both Stefan and I can watch...I want to watch the blood drain from your body."
"Don't do this-" she started, but stopped. She closed her eyes. "I am Helena Cassadine and I do not beg. Do what you must."
Stavros' finger eased onto the trigger. "You're no fun, Mother. I would have liked to see you beg...I'm going to kill you now and then I'm going to laugh."
In that moment, there was movement. Someone threw their own body into Stavros, wrestling for the gun as they fell to the ground. Someone pulled Helena away, covering her body with their own, as they tripped and landed on the Persian rug.
Less than three seconds later, the gun went off and there was a grunt as a bullet made contact with living flesh. The second gunshot followed quickly, leaving yet another body to be invaded by hot spiraling metal.
In the silence that had overtaken the room, the faintest voice drifted above the tragic scene.
"I love you, Mother..."
* * * * *
Somewhere along the way, the world had tilted on its axis. Everything that she thought she knew, the solemn truths of her life, began to dissolve from solid structure into so much spilt salt. She stood in the ruins of the fantastic, her back to the harsh winds of reality, her feet sinking deeper into the muck of her own stupidity. Lost and dazed she was...yet, as she realized now, lost and dazed she'd always been.
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight that had thrown her into such a tailspin. No matter how tightly she shut them, still the image remained. It fought it's way inside to flicker in the dark recesses of her mind like a silent film, gray and grainy. She flinched as it played, flinched as she was once again jolted by the incident that had proven her a fool.
Blind...how could she have been so blind? Her private movie raced on, pulling her back into the past to see what she never wanted to see before.
He loved her...
"You! You have some nerve showing your face here!!" The voice was loud and as sharp as the polished blade of an ax. It pounded through her head, interrupting the show and forcing her back to the present, back to the here and now.
Finally, Helena Cassadine's eyes fluttered open and she focused on the enraged face of a woman trapped in grief.
Alexis stared at her, her dark eyes growing darker as she was overtaken with pure hatred. "You!" she spat out again, "Always it's you ruining lives and murdering the people I love!!" Her back was rigid, her entire posture speaking of the harm she wished to inflict on her step mother. As Alexis tried to rush forward, her menacing fist angling towards Helena, Nikolas appeared from whatever stray corner he had retreated to after the forms had been signed.
He grabbed his aunt, pulling her back, restraining her arms against her side. "No," he said to her, his eyes carefully avoiding making contact with anyone but Alexis. "Don't do this...not now."
Alexis' cheeks were red as she partially freed herself from his grasp, her flailing hand forming a claw in the air as she attempted to make violent contact with the other woman. With anguish, she cried, "Someone has to do this, Nikolas! We can't let her keep doing this to us."
Helena watched her husband's bastard daughter with disinterest, her back sliding against the slick hospital wall as she moved to stand on her feet without the assistance of the chair she had been using to hold her up. She wobbled a little, her knees still weak, her nerves still frayed. Her light eyes were cold as she ignored Alexis' outburst. Her lips twisted up in a sneer of disapproval as she turned to walk away.
To Helena's back, Alexis shouted, "It should be you! You should be the one in that hospital bed...you should be the one dying!!!!!!!"
The older woman held her head high, her heels hammering nosily down the corridor. She heard Alexis' words, yet didn't acknowledge them. She couldn't...couldn't allow her the satisfaction of knowing that Helena knew...
....that sometimes a bastard was more than just inconvenient. Sometimes a bastard was right.
* * * * *
"What the hell do you want me to say?" Luke yelled loudly, leaning forward in the metal chair. "That I'm sorry I did it? Well...if that's what you want, you're going to be sitting here a very long time, Bubba. 'Cause I ain't sorry. How can you be sorry about destroying evil?"
Mac grimaced, pushing out from the table to pace around the interrogation room. "No one," he said evenly, "is asking for an apology. All I want is the truth, Luke. Tell me what happened on that yacht last night-"
"Mac," Laura interrupted, "we've already told you everything. Why do you insist on running this into the ground?"
"Because none of it makes sense!" Taggert replied, lowering his coffee mug to the table.
Laura's eyes opened wide in defiance. "I don't care if it makes sense! It's what happened. Now, if you'll excuse me, there is somewhere I NEED to be...and it sure isn't here!"
Luke reached out to take her hand, glaring at Felecia's husband. "Look, I'll go over the whole thing as many times as you want...just let Laura go."
Taggert turned to look at the police commissioner, his shoulders shrugging as he leaned back in his chair. Mac nodded, "Alright, Laura...but we're not through with you."
Laura grabbed her purse, marching towards the door. "Thank you, Mac."
Luke watched her leave and then turned back to the cops. "You know," he ventured, "I don't even have to talk to you without my lawyer present. I'm doing you guys a favor."
"And we thank you for it, Luke, " Mac answered. "I know this is a difficult time for you, what with the poisoning and all, but we have to be able to do our job. So, from the beginning, tell us again what happened."
"The truth," Taggert added.
Luke looked down to the scarred table top, bracing himself to start all over again. "I have been telling the truth. We fought over the gun, it went off twice...I'm the one who pulled the trigger the second time. I'm the one who killed Stavros."
* * * * *
"No."
It wasn't the fact that he said no that worried Alexis. It was more of the way he said the word that gave her pause. He snapped it out, not like an intelligent young man who had carefully contemplated the options laid out for him, but more like a small child on the verge of an emotional meltdown. As if to compound her fears, he said it again with the same petulant inflection. "No."
Alexis took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his palm. Sighing, she said, "Please don't fight me on this, Nikolas. Try to see reason, try to understand that this is the right decision."
"How could this possibly be the right decision?" he barked.
"Because it is....believe me, I've thought long and hard over this and I know it's what's best. It's what he would have wanted."
He pulled his hand from hers, his nostrils flaring at her audacity. "If you think that's what he would have wanted, then you didn't know him at all!!"
"Nikolas-"
He cut her off, pushing back from his chair. "I can't believe that you could even consider this and still claim to love him!"
Alexis tried to check her temper, but found that she couldn't. Or, perhaps, that she really didn't want to. She had so much anger welling inside of her that pleaded to be released. If she couldn't unload it into Helena's face, then maybe she could just allow it to burst out into the open. Other people got to be angry, got to go off on tirades when provoked. Why couldn't she?
She'd been provoked more times than most. Why did she have to have self-control when no one, including Nikolas, even knew what the word meant when they were upset. Standing up to face him, she snarled, "For goodness' sake, grow up, Nikolas! Right now, all you're thinking about is how this decision effects you. This is not about you or what you think or what you want! This is about him...about what's best for him! You do understand that he's dying, don't you?!"
And, then it happened, what had been threatening to happen since the moment the gun had fired and the first blood had splattered. Nikolas began to cry. His face spasmed, the muscles of his cheeks twitching as his forehead grew taunt. He fought it valiantly for a few seconds, but ultimately lost as his pale face crumbled. The tears came in a flood as he slumped down into the hard upholstery of the mauve chair. He buried his face in the protective circle of his arms, the material of his dirty suit jacket scraping against his wet cheeks.
Guilt flooded Alexis as she dropped to her knees before him. She put her arms around him as he cried, apologizing for her insensitivity. "I'm sorry, honey...I know how hard this is for you. I shouldn't have treated you like the enemy."
He looked up at her. He looked so small and lost, almost like a child playing in his father's suit. With wet eyes and a trembling voice, he pleaded, "Don't do this. Don't make me let him go, Alexis."
A tear slid down her own cheek as she pulled his head to lay against her breast. She soothed his hair as he continued to sob, softly replying, "It's all just formality, Nikolas, because, truth be known, he's already gone."
* * * * *
His blood was on her hands...only figuratively now that she had found some soap and a restroom. Even when the physical reminders wash away, the emotional ones linger on to haunt the unsuspecting. His blood was one such reminder. She could wash her hands until they were raw, but still they would be red in her mind.
Red with his blood...
Helena shivered at the thought. Never had it chilled her as it did this night. Never had the very idea been anything other than a joyous thought until this very night. This night, this endless siege against her sanity, had changed everything.
She turned away from the bland skyline of Port Charles framed by the window and went back to the bed. With her head tilted, she studied his prone form, wondering why his face suddenly intrigued her so. It never had before.
It was the same face. She floated forward on weary feet, coming to sit down at his bedside. She leaned forward, placing her cold white fingers on his forearm. Shaking her head, she said, "You puzzle me, Stefan. Why must you always puzzle me so?"
The only response she received was the swoosh of the life support machine as it pumped air into her son's lungs. He was hooked up to quite a few machines but they weren't loud or obtrusive. Helena disregarded them, having already been hooked up to most of them herself at one time or another. She sighed, slipping her fingers off of his arm and into her lap.
She stared at the wall above his head, feeling awkward and out of place. "I don't have much time," she said. "Alexis and Nikolas will most certainly return shortly. I managed to distract them, but I can't guarantee how long they'll be gone."
She allowed one eye to drift off the wall and down at Stefan. His face was blank and pale, a large white bandage wrapped completely around the top of his head. Quickly, she looked away, not quite prepared with the feelings racing through her body as she saw him at such a vulnerable state. She forced herself to remain calm, forced the flood of guilt to fade into the background. "I...I don't know exactly what to say to you, Stefan. I don't even know if you can hear me. I think I would prefer it if you could not, but, regardless, I find that I do have something to say to you."
Helena took a deep breath, once again repositioning her eyes. This time, she focused on his hand. She picked it up, rolling it between her own. She was careful not to disturb the heart monitor clipped to his finger. With a flush, she realized that this was foreign to her. Touching him...his skin...his hand. "We never-"
She cleared her throat. "You were never -"
She dropped his hand. "I never-"
There were so many unfinished sentences, so many unsaid words between the two of them. "I can't do this," she whispered, the words floating from between her lips on puffs of hot air. She scrambled from the chair, stumbling over the bedside table. She regained her balance, quickly racing out the door and out of ICU. She walked blindly, her eyes unfocused as she plowed through the hallway. Eventually, she found herself pushing through the swinging door of the women's restroom. As if there were some sort of magnetic pull, she was drawn over to the row of mirrors above the station of sinks. Her reflection emerged, walking towards her as she walked towards it.
The two women looked at each other, both eyeing the other with distrust. Her heart raced as she stared at the stranger she had become. She pressed her hand against the glass, tracing the lines that had developed around her reflection's eyes. "I'm old," Helena stated pointedly, her words bouncing in echo through the empty bathroom.
"I have made every mistake that an ambitious woman could possibly make."
She moved closer to the mirror. The lines around her mouth were more prominent than ever. "I have lived my life in the dark."
She released a great breath as she lowered her hand to the cool ceramic of the sink. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that the words that she sought were stolen by the woman who stared back at her from the mirror. With a tilt of her head, the reflection said, "And, I will die as I have lived."
* * * * *
Three thousand dollars in cash went a long way, especially when slipped to just the right person. It was that amount of money that had afforded Laura the opportunity to finally set things right. She unscrewed the rusted metal top and carefully slipped it into the pocket of her slacks. She tilted the container, allowing the golden liquid to flow out freely. The strong scent of gasoline stung the inside of her nose, but she ignored it.
When the sheet was fully saturated, she ripped it back. She began to cry as the gasoline kept pouring, splashing down out of the can onto Stavros' dead flesh. It pooled in his naval, escaping the sides and rolling across his well defined muscles. She dumped every ounce of the fluid onto his body. When the can was empty, she tossed it into a corner. The red metal collided with the stainless steel cabinets that lined the morgue wall. It made a noisy clatter that caused Laura to jump.
She reached, with shaky hands, into her purse and pulled out a matchbox. She struck the match, the orange flame popping to life to her delight. She went to the body, glaring at it with disgust. Her voice was full of emotion as she said, "This time, there will be no resurrection." She opened his mouth, stuffing the lit match down inside his jaw. She could see his tongue blackening as she quickly lit another match and tossed it onto his chest. Smoke began to rise, as his skin began to burn.
She threw the matchbox onto his chest. The box ignited quickly, accelerating the fire. Even when the alarm began to sound, she stood to watch him burn, to watch his face blacken and his skin shrivel like paper.
* * * * *
Tony left quickly, feeling vaguely uncomfortable by the hateful way in which Nikolas was glaring at him as he did his job. When the door to the room closed, Alexis sat down at Stefan's beside. She smiled wanly as she took his hand. "Did you know," she said to him, "that there's no real plug to pull? It's more like a switch that they flick. A switch...that's what it's come down to...a switch."
Nikolas sniffled.
Helena rolled her eyes. "Perhaps you should have been a physician instead of a mediocre attorney for the Mafia, little mouse," the older woman snarled.
Alexis stood up, backing away from Stefan's bed. "Perhaps you should say whatever it is you have to say to my brother and then get out so that he can spend his last moments with the people who REALLY care about him, you viper!"
"Why is she here, Alexis?!" Nikolas railed. "She shouldn't be allowed anywhere near this room!"
Alexis put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You know it was futile to try and keep her out...You were right before. We don't need any ugly scenes today. Let's just try to get through this without any more bloodshed." Nikolas scowled, turning his back to both his aunt and his grandmother. He said nothing, leaning his head against the wall.
Again, Helena found herself standing beside Stefan's bed. The life support had been cleared away and his face was unadorned. She touched his cheek, surprised to find that it was still rather warm. His skin looked so white, as if it should be like ice to the touch. But, though his breathing was shallow and labored, he wasn't quite dead yet. Tony had not been optimistic at all. He had said that this was the end.
The bullet had done so much damage that there was no hope.
Flashes of guns and blood filled Helena's head. She shook them out, looking down into her son's face. She reigned in whatever tumult of emotion was kicking at her heart. She raised her head. "Stavros is dead," she said, as if she were informing an old friend of another friend's comings and goings.
Alexis groaned. "Even now, Helena?! Even after he tried to kill you, he's still all you care about?" She came to Helena's side, grabbing her face and tipping it down in Stefan's direction. Her grip was hard as her nails dug into sallow cheeks. "Look!" Alexis ordered. "Look at your son...The one you tortured endlessly. The one you berated. The one you discarded...In the end, even after all you've done, it was him that loved you enough to put his life on the line. He took a bullet meant for you and STILL, all you can talk about is Stavros. You disgust me!!!"
In rage, Helena broke free. She swiveled on Alexis, her blue eyes watering as she yelled, "Don't ever touch me again and don't ever pretend to lecture me about either of my sons!"
"Oh, but I'm the only one who can! I knew both Stefan and Stavros. I knew them better than you did! See, it was no surprise to me to find out that Stavros loathed you as much as I did. I've always known that!! Stefan knew that! Everyone knew but you, so blind you were. Stavros was a selfish, insane, brute who loved nothing but the reflection in the mirror. And he...he's the one you loved. How incredibly stupid you've been. "
"Shut up! Just shut up!!" Helena screamed, her fine composure starting to crack. "You're wrong. Stavros...Stavros loved me. He was just upset...."
"Yeah, whatever. Your problem is that you backed the wrong horse. Now, you have to live with it..." Alexis said dryly. She pushed past Helena and went to guide Nikolas toward the door. "We're going to get some coffee. If you're not out of here in five minutes, I'm calling security."
When the door closed, Helena sighed in relief. "I don't know why I'm here, except that...what happened tonight made me feel as if I should be. I was there when you took your first breath. I think it's poignant that I be there when you draw your last."
"However you may have felt about me-"
Helena began to pace back and forth beside his bed. Her head rang with the sound of his voice declaring his love. "Don't love me!" she barked, stopping and spinning around. "I don't want your love, Stefan. You...please, just don't love me. It's been years, years of you looking at me with those crystal green eyes, so much like the eyes of my father, pleading for me to give you something, anything to make you feel wanted. I turn away from those eyes because I have no choice. I have nothing to give you, Stefan! I never have. Nothing for you. Nothing for those eyes. But, you insist on staring, you insist on making me prove to you over and over that you don't matter to me. It's your fault!"
"It's always been your fault," she rambled, "because you won't stop. I try to pretend that I don't know, but I do. I know...know that you love me regardless of what I do to turn you away. If you would just stop...just STOP loving me, yearning for me, begging for something I can't give, then none of this would have happened."
"I'm not empty inside. I see your pain. I know what I've done to you. I'm not oblivious."
"I thought that we had developed a mutual hatred. I thought that after everything, I had finally killed all the love you had for me. After I killed you..."
"What's wrong with you?! There shouldn't have been anything left after I killed you. Still, those eyes...you came to me with those bright eyes, not at all clouded in death like they should have been. You pulled me against you, into an embrace that was more a vice than any showing of emotion. You looked at me, and it was still there. Love."
"Don't you see how I hate you for loving me?"
She sank down in the chair, allowing her head to fall against the thin blanket of the bed. "I didn't want to die tonight, Stefan. " Her voice trembled with the fierce emotion that claimed her. "When you came to me, placed your body over mine, I knew that I wouldn't. I knew that you would save me."
Her eyes stung with tears she refused to cry. She buried her face into the mattress beside his hip. "I looked into Stavros' face and I didn’t even recognize him. It was darkness, complete darkness in his eyes. My Stavros...I don't even know if the Stavros I loved so dearly ever really existed."
"Is Alexis correct in her assertion? Have I been a fool?"
She chuckled. "Perhaps..."
Helena stood up. She found it difficult to stay still, to be in any one place for any longer than a minute or two. Her nerves were shot and her composure as ruined as the soiled Chanel suit she wore. "Tony says that you will die now that we have removed you from life support. That thought saddens me."
She exhaled, reaching across him to delicately fluff his pillow. Flippantly, she smiled, "For whatever it's worth, I think I may miss you...Goodbye, Stefan."
She tried to walk away, but found that she couldn't, for, in an unpredictable flash, Stefan's right hand flew up from the bed to grab Helena's left wrist. She began to scream as she tried to pry his hand from her arm. Her eyes were wide as she studied his unchanged face. There was no difference. He looked as comatose as he had before. But, she could not deny the fact that his hand was gripped firmly around her wrist. "Let go!!!" she demanded.
"Damn you, let me go!"
She worked on his cold fingers with her free hand, stabbing them with her nails. It was useless. She couldn't free herself. As suddenly as he had grabbed her, his eyes popped open.
Their eyes locked and she began to struggle for freedom. She couldn't get away, neither could she look away. She was held tightly, half of her torso drawn diagonally across his bed. "Stefan...let me go," she breathed in exhaustion. Her heart beat madly, her stomach clenching hard. His eyes focused on hers. She shook her head, feeling the same thing she always felt when looking into the sea of green.
"No!"
"Don't do this."
"What do you want from me?!"
His eyes pierced through her, making her tremble as sweat began to bead on her forehead. It was the most unbelievable thing to see a half-dead man glaring at her with pleading eyes, preventing her from the escape she craved.
"Why won't you let me go?"
"What do you want? What do I have to do?"
There would be no escape this time. Her demons had come back to haunt her in the form of two green eyes that refused to blink. They only stared....
Because they wanted something....
They were waiting...
And she knew that.
Tears began to seep from her eyes as she leaned forward. She put her lips against his, feeling the softness. As though it was the most painful thing she had ever done in her life, she breathed the truth, "When I told you I never loved you, I was wrong. I do love you...now, Stefan."
The green eyes blinked, then rolled closed. His hand released her. She did not love, however. She remained as she was, her lips directly on top of his. He flat lined, the heart monitor sounding in a shrill monotone as his heart stopped beating. "I love you, Stefan," she said again, "and the proof is the bullet in your brain. I destroy what I love...couldn't you see that? Couldn't you see that all of your life, by not loving you, I've been trying to save you?"