"Q.E.D." Part 9
Alexis closed the old diary, running her hand over the worn surfaceof the leather cover.
"Is this true?" she asked.
"Yes," replied Stefan "I have had the diary verified by a veryreliable source."
"This is a terrible story..." she said, letting her thoughts dangleinto understatement.
Stefan took the diary from Alexis and placed it back into the wallsafe. "When I found that diary, I read it cover to cover in onesitting," he said, noticing the elegant Victorian designs etched intothe heavy metal door. "It did not take long, since Alexie didn't liveto see his 25th birthday." He felt the weight of the door in hishands as he shut away the diary. The action was similar to sealing acrypt. "Here was a boy rescued from his execution, only to be treatedas little more than a breeding stud until his death. He was separatedfrom his only surviving sister, forced to marry one of his captorsand watched helplessly as the Cassadines padded their bank accountswith the money they received when they sold what was left of theRomanov jewels. Shortly before he died, he was coerced intoproclaiming his son Mikkos the heir to the Russian throne, thusinsuring that the Cassadines would maintain control over the royalline." He watched as the paneling slid into place, covering the safeand completing the mock burial. But even this tiny mausoleum, hethought, is far more ornate than an unmarked grave on a small Greekisland...
"But to what end? Russia is a democracy now." said Alexis.
"Yes, but the new government is very fragile, as is the health of theRussian president," replied Stefan.
Alexis straightened in her seat. "Surely you don't believe thatHelena could have anything to do with Boris Yeltsin's heartcondition...."
Stefan shook his head. "Not directly, of course." He smiled briefly."I always thought of my mother as having an almost unearthly amountof power, but even I would doubt that she could obstruct anotherman's coronary arteries." He frowned at the Cassadine insignia on hisring. "I do know that she has operatives in Russia, and that they'vebeen there ever since Gorbachev dropped the iron curtain. WhenGorbachev was kidnapped, I couldn't help but think that she wassomehow involved. And now, I'm certain that she's keeping a carefuleye on Yeltsin's health like some kind of vulture circling a woundedanimal, waiting for it take its last breath..."
"And then what? Some kind of coup? Does she still have that kind ofpower?"
"I don't know. I have never held her confidence, as you are wellaware. This is why I must keep Nikolas away from her at allcosts."
Alexis' gaze drifted to the paneling which concealed the wall safe."How did you get the diary?"
"I found it hidden away in the caves, in a sealed box." He smiled. "Ithought I'd finally found the buried treasure that you and I hadspent our childhoods searching for. The box was locked, but thehinges were nearly rusted through, and so I picked up a rock and hitthem until they fell away." Stefan's mind replayed the sounds ofstone impacting on old metal. The rhythmic pounding increased involume until he glanced over at Alexis, thinking that perhaps shecould hear it too. "When I opened the box, I was disappointed. Thiswas hardly the hidden treasure I'd hoped for. There were no shinyjewels, no silver daggers, no mysterious icons. Just a sad andpathetic little life, wrested from a glorious throne and reduced tothat inelegant scrawl."
Stefan returned to the sofa and sat down by his cousin. Alexis tookhis hand and looked over at the same dark face she saw emerge fromthe caves long ago, the face of a boy who'd had his childhood rippedaway in one brief moment. She watched a single tear exit his eye andmaneuver its way past the chiseled contours of his face, coming torest at the corner of his jaw, suspended for a time before gravitytook its final hold. As the tiny droplet fell away from his face,Alexis was reminded of her own mother's suicide. And how she musthave looked so small as she fell from that tall cliff into thesea.
"If there is one thing I've learned about being a Cassadine," shewhispered, both to him and to herself, "it's that we are notresponsible for the actions of our family."
"Yes," he agreed. "But we are responsible for our own actions. And itwas I who found the diary."
"And that is supposed to make you the one who sets things right? Whatcould you have done?"
"Well, nothing at the time, I suppose." he said. "But later, when Isaw history repeat itself, I ... hesitated."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"When Laura Spencer was brought to the island, and forced to marry mybrother and produce an heir, I did nothing. Even though my mind wasscreaming protests at the thought of Alexie's terrible story beingreplayed before my eyes, I behaved like a stunned witness to agruesome accident. I was unable to do anything but watch..."
"You were... kind to her. When no one else was." she offered.
"Yes," he admitted. "But what good were fresh blueberries to her? Ishould have offered her a means of escape."
"You know what Helena would have done to you both, had you triedit."
"Yes, I know. But I desperately wanted to save her." He smiled at hiscousin, but she saw no signs of absolution in it. "And I desperatelywanted her to save me..."
Alexis squeezed his hand. "You loved her," she said.
It was a statement. Not a question. He could only nod inresponse.