He sorted through the mail that had piled up; bills, notices, all ultimately meaningless. He still could not wrap his mind around the truth, everything Stefan had confessed that night.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Stefan, Alexis, and Nikolas entered the study silently. Stefan sat heavily on one of the couches, and Alexis sat next to him. Nikolas took a seat across from them.
"It is good to be home," Stefan said with a nod of his head. He held a hand to his tired eyes.
"Are you sure you want to do this now, Stefan? We could wait until the morning," Alexis suggested in a worried tone.
"No, none of us would sleep anyway. I want to tell you," Stefan said.
"Well, you filled me in about the way you finally got Helena to incriminate herself. But there was more to the situation than a simple gaslighting, am I correct?" Alexis questioned.
Nikolas and Stefan nodded at the same time. "When Helena realized what was really happening, she pulled a gun on me," Nikolas began.
Alexis sighed. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"
Stefan picked up where Nikolas left off. "I knew Helena was serious. She was going to kill Nikolas, just like she tried to kill me. I would do anything to protect you, Nikolas, you know that," he said, looking into his nephew's eyes.
"I know," Nikolas whispered, his brown eyes pooling with tears.
"So I offered to myself in his place," Stefan continued.
"Offered yourself? What do you mean, Stefan?" Alexis asked.
Stefan looked at a point off in the distance for a moment as he collected his thoughts. Finally, he spoke. "I made her believe that I would sleep with her."
Alexis gasped. "You don't mean…" Stefan nodded. "Oh my God," she murmured, taking Stefan's hand.
Stefan sighed. "Helena had been abusive for a long time, starting when I was very young, maybe a child of three or four." He looked at the ground for a moment. "Of course I didn't understand at first. There was always a feeling something wrong, though. It was not natural. However, we all know that Helena is a master manipulator. At first, she told me all mothers treated their children that way. As I got older, and I realized what was going on, then she told me it was a way to share something secret and special between us." Stefan looked up again. "The way she idolized Stavros always made me insecure, so I suppose I went along with it."
"When did it finally stop?" Nikolas asked tentatively.
"Around the age of thirteen," he said simply.
Alexis felt the tears slipping down her cheeks, but made no move to wipe them away. "Why didn't you say something, Stefan? You could have told me!"
Stefan turned to Alexis with sad eyes. "What good would it have done, Natasha? There was no way to stop her. Besides, I was ashamed."
"You shouldn't feel that way, Uncle. It wasn't your fault!" Nikolas said.
Stefan smiled a bit at Nikolas. "You're right, Nikolas. I don't feel that way anymore. I started fighting against her, and soon I was growing into a man. That summer, I had my first real kiss."
Alexis bit her lip thoughtfully. "May I ask who it was?"
Stefan managed to chuckle. "I do not think you knew her. She was a servant's daughter. Her name was Marie, and I was completely enchanted. We got to know each other slowly. Then one day, we kissed. I knew in that instant that what we were sharing that moment was real, honest and pure. I knew I wouldn't let Helena take advantage of me again."
Alexis smiled a bit herself picturing young Stefan. "What happened to Marie?"
Stefan frowned. "She was gone the next day. She and her family were shipped away from the island, and I never saw her again." Stefan sighed and continued. "Apparently Helena had someone watching me. She wanted me all to herself, but I refused to take part any longer. I suppose Helena could see that I was now a young man, and not so easily controlled. Her hatred of me grew from that moment on until it reached its boiling point, and she tried to kill me."
Alexis shook her head. "Why didn't I see it, Stefan? Why didn't I know something was wrong?" she asked tearfully.
Stefan put a hand on her shoulder. "You were just a child yourself. How could you have known?"
Nikolas' brow furrowed in thought. "So many things make sense now. I remember you wouldn't let me stay with Helena by myself. You always had to be there."
Stefan nodded. "I knew Helena probably would not do anything to you, the Cassadine Prince, but I was always suspicious. I could not let her harm you, Nikolas. It was my mission in life to protect you, so that you would never have to go through that."
Nikolas' lower lip trembled as the tears fell from his brown eyes. "I am so sorry, Uncle! I am so, so sorry."
Stefan stood in front of Nikolas, who followed suit. He took his hands in his. "Nikolas, do not feel sorry for things that have nothing to do with you. I am quite sure that you saved my life, and gave me a reason to go on living. You were always my greatest joy," Stefan said, his voice cracking with emotion.
He then drew his nephew into a hug, and they clung to each other as they cried. Soon, Alexis joined them, and they held onto each other in a collective embrace, mourning for the past, for the fragile hope of youth, and for innocence lost.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Nikolas sat tiredly on the couch when he heard the doorbell ring. He glanced at his watch. Was it that late already?
He walked to the front door and opened it. Livvie stood on the porch, a strong west wind blowing through her hair.
"Nikolas!" she cried after he opened the door. "Where have you been?"
"Olivia," Nikolas said. He stepped aside. "Come in."
Livvie walked in quickly. "You have no idea how worried about you I've been. I didn't know if you were all right. Your uncle suddenly rises from the dead, and you disappear for a week," she said rapidly.
Nikolas held up his hands. "I'm sorry. I should have called."
"You're darn right you should have called!" Livvie said angrily.
"I know I owe you an explanation. It's a long story," he sighed.
"I've got all night," Livvie said, and she sat down on the couch.
Nikolas sat next to her. He had to tell her the truth, but not betray his uncle's trust. "I suppose I should start at the beginning. Yes, my uncle faked his death last year. I did not know that until a few months ago when he showed up her unexpectedly. It turns out that my grandmother tried to kill him."
"His own mother?" Livvie asked in a confused voice.
Nikolas chuckled bitterly. "Yes. My grandmother is more twisted than any of us realized. When my uncle returned, I agreed to help him to bring Helena down."
"Which is why she was arrested at the wedding?"
Nikolas nodded. "We caught her confessing to many crimes on tape. But things happened that night," Nikolas said softly, "and I just needed to be with my uncle. So I stayed with him at Wyndemere this week."
Livvie swallowed. "So you knew he was alive for months?"
"And I did not tell you. I couldn't."
Livvie sighed. "So how does it feel?"
"How does what feel?"
"To have him back," Livvie said softly.
Nikolas had a small smile. "The past few months have been very hard, but it's all been worth it, because now I have Stefan with me again." He looked at her carefully, and she didn't seem upset anymore. He took her hand. "I did not like lying to you, Olivia."
"Perhaps now you can understand my motivation when I kept my identity from you last year," she said with a slight tilt of her head.
Nikolas looked into her brown eyes and nodded. "I do. I shouldn't have judged you. I just felt that I had been lied to my whole life, and I was having trouble accepting another."
Livvie sighed. "I'm sorry if I seemed cross at the wedding. I just felt the same way, confused and scared."
Nikolas brushed a piece of hair away from her face. "What if we made a pact? No lies from this day forward."
Livvie nodded. She took her hand, and placed it on his chest. "I promise and I swear it by my heart, and yours."
Nikolas followed Livvie's lead, and placed his hand over her heart as well. "I also promise and I swear it by my heart, and yours." He then leaned in and kissed her gently, so grateful for her understanding and support.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Emily pushed the rocking chair across the gray carpeting to a place by the windows. There was a view of a large oak tree, and the street below. The apartment was in a quiet residential neighborhood not too far from the water. It was a small complex, only about four floors; their two bedroom was on the second floor.
"I think that's everything," Emily said, stepping back to admire their work. She and Sly had been working on the apartment all day, trying to get everything into place. Now they were done with the nursery. The walls were a soft white, as was the crib. There was an antique-looking touch lamp on top of the dresser, already half filled with clothes that everyone had been giving the couple for the baby. The radiator was covered in a variety of stuffed animals. A small mobile hung above the crib. A changing table was against the wall, near the closet. The rocking chair was the real highlight of the room, however. It was a gift from Lila, the one she used to rock her own babies to sleep.
Sly looked at everything and shook his head. He couldn't believe it; the baby was really coming. He stared at his future, a room he would grow very familiar with in a few months. Sometimes it would hit him all at once; he was going to be a father. It was an intense and scary feeling sometimes. Am I really ready for this, he thought.
Emily moved to Sly's side and rubbed his back. "We do good work," she smiled.
Sly kissed Emily on the top of the head. "I guess so."
She walked out into the hallway. "Let's move around the furniture in the living room!" she said enthusiastically.
"Hey, you won't be moving anything," Sly said.
"I'm pregnant, not sick, Sly," Emily protested.
"I'm more than capable of moving a couch and a few chairs. You already told me where you want them. Why don't you go into the bedroom and sort through all the junk piled up in there?"
"Fine," Emily said. She padded the hardwood floor of the hallway in her socks, and then sat down on the bed when she reached the bedroom. There were several boxes of personal effects piled up. She grabbed the first one and started rooting through it. It was a box of her books, and papers from various classes. She threw out most of the papers, then got up and put the books on a shelf.
She took another of the boxes. It was evidence of Sly's haphazard packing, pairs of socks mixed in with CDs and guitar picks. She put the socks in the dresser and the CDs in a rack, and piled up the picks. Then she noticed a small envelope in the bottom of the box. She picked it up, and it was partially opened. There were pictures inside, so Emily took them out to see what they were.
Emily gasped at what she found. They were pictures of Sly that were taken a few years ago. The first picture was a close-up of Sly's face. Both of his eyes were blackened, and were swollen shut. His lower lip was swollen to twice its normal size, and there were numerous cuts and abrasions all over. The next picture was of his back; raised red welts cris-crossed the length of it, and it was also covered with deep bruises. It was the same thing on the other pictures- all of Sly's body was enveloped with bruises from deep purple to greenish-yellow. Emily couldn't believe what she was seeing. Then she realized that these must be the pictures that the police took after Sly finally escaped from his grandfather. She felt the hot tears streaming down her face when she heard him.
"Emily, I don't know what you want to do with the lamps," Sly began, and then he saw Emily's face. "Em, what's…" His voice trailed off when he saw the pictures that she was holding. "What are you doing with those?"
Emily looked up at Sly. "I found them while I was unpacking."
"Give them to me," Sly said, extending his hand.
"Sly, I wanted to talk about this," Emily started.
"I don't want to talk about them!" Sly shouted. "You had no right to look at them!"
Emily's eyebrows furrowed and she frowned. "Whoa. We are married, remember? What's yours is mine, and vice versa."
"Isn't there still a thing called privacy? I told you that I never wanted you to see these," Sly said, his hand still extended.
"You said you hoped I'd never see these pictures. If you hate them so much, why are you still holding onto them?" Emily asked.
Sly took a shaky breath. "Give them to me, Emily," he repeated.
"Not until you tell me why you still have them," Emily said, determined to get an answer.
"The police gave me a copy for my personal records. I hung onto them because I didn't want them falling into the wrong hands. If I ever become famous, someone could use them to blackmail me," he said, his outstretched hand shaking.
"That's kind of a long shot, don't you think?" Emily asked.
"I don't have to explain everything to you. This is the last time. Give me the pictures," he nearly growled.
"We need to talk about this," Emily said desperately, suddenly scared of Sly's tone.
Sly tried to grab the pictures from Emily's hands. Emily held onto the other end of the pile. They both struggled for a second, until they slipped out of both of their hands, and the pictures flew everywhere.
Sly and Emily were left staring hard into each other's eyes. "If that's the way you want it, fine," Sly said angrily. "Why don't you put them in frames and display them around the apartment?"
"Sly, I don't know what's the matter with you, but you've got this all wrong," Emily said with a hardness in her voice that belied what she was really feeling.
"I am just fine, Emily, but I don't know what's wrong with you, doing this to me! Do you want to hurt me?" he asked, his voice strained, yet cold.
"How you could accuse me of something like that?" Emily said, finally getting teary.
"I don't know, it seems like all of the Quartermaines are pretty good at cutting each other down. You hunt each other's souls for sport. You learned all that and more. Pretty soon, I'm sure you'll be having an affair behind my back!" Sly said, the words tumbling in a rush.
Emily's features hardened. "Get out now," she whispered forcefully.
"Look, Emily, I didn't mean it," Sly stuttered, suddenly realizing the extent of what he had said.
"I said leave!" Emily shouted.
Sly held up his hands and stepped backward out of the room. Emily slammed the door in his face, and then locked it. She moved over to the bed and sobbed into a pillow.
Sly stalked the apartment, still angry. How could she do this to me, he thought. She knows how painful it is to talk about the past, which is why I don't do it. After about a half hour of fitful pacing, the door to their bedroom was still closed. Sly thought about what he had said. He didn't mean really mean it, he was just angry, and everything came out wrong. Why couldn't he ever do anything right?
He walked back over to the door, but it was still locked when he tried to turn the knob. "Emily, let me in, please!"
Emily stared at the door, but she was still too upset. "Go away, Sly!"
Sly knocked for several more minutes, but received no answer. Finally, he sank to the floor and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Emily. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it," he cried. "I love you," he said.
That's not going to work this time, Emily thought. Oh, God, what is wrong with us? We're not even married two weeks and we're already fighting. She gently rubbed her belly. Don't worry, baby, she thought. We're going to be ok. We've got to be.
Sly placed his palm against the door. "Please forgive me, Emily," he said through his tears. "I'm sorry," he said again, drawing his knees to his chest, and praying for forgiveness. I'm sorry, Lord, he prayed. I can't lose her, he thought as he stared at the smiling faces of the stuffed animals visible from the doorway of the nursery. I just can't lose her.