Chapter 31 Ned scurries off to the kitchen to find Mrs. Landsbury and arrange for something tantalizing, and Alexis takes a deep breath and opens the double doors to the parlor, where Stefan is sitting on the sofa, stone-faced and distracted. She carefully closes the doors behind her and takes a seat in a high-back chair next to him. Alexis: (cautiously) So Stefan: (not looking at her) She hates me. She won't take me back. Alexis: I don't know what to say, Stefan. I'm sorry that you're hurting. Stefan: Don't bother with the apologies, Alexis. No need to sprinkle the lemon juice of your insincerity onto the wound. Alexis: Stefan, I... Stefan: Stop! Save your platitudes. (he gets up and paces in front of the fire, with his back to her) Alexis sighs and sits in silence, unwilling to walk out and give up so soon. Stefan tends absently to the fire with a brass poker, deep in thought. Alexis is still for a moment, waiting for him to turn around. When he doesn't, she speaks. Alexis: I'm glad, at least, that you are finally telling me how you feel. We haven't really talked since Greece. Stefan: (turning to face her, with that bitter smile he generally uses to cover suffering) Now, now, let's not get overly ambitious. I'm hardly in the mood for a tète-à-tète. Alexis lowers her eyes, recognizing that biting edge to his voice that indicates simmering eruption. She says nothing, but braces herself. He notices her muscles tensing in spite of a defeated look on her face, and rolls his eyes. Stefan: Am I so fearsome, Alexis, that you would expect a temper tantrum out of me? Am I so boorish, that I can't control my emotions? You forget, cousin, that no one is better at that than I. A mere lost love will not undo me. You of all people should know that better than anyone. Alexis: (speaking softly, still looking down) Which lost love are we speaking of? Stefan: Does it matter? (She doesn't answer. He smiles condescendingly) I have been meaning to thank you, Alexis. I had forgotten my role. To see to Nikolas, nothing more, and nothing less. Any distractions of the heart are inevitably at his expense. Alexis: Stefan, I never thought that you didn't deserve-- Stefan: (cutting her off) Let's not fool ourselves. My brother may have taken something from me, but he gave me Nikolas. And with Nikolas, I will be satisfied. Sheer ingratitude overcame me for a few months. You'll have to forgive me. Alexis looks at him plaintively, willing him with her eyes to stop the charade, but knowing that to say so would only push him further away. Stefan: Go now. (sneering) You have someone waiting for you, I believe? Alexis: Stefan- (he turns his back to her and looks back at the fire, and she realizes the conversation is over). She rises and walks toward him, her hand on one of his crossed arms gently turning him around to face her. He has trouble making eye contact with her as she leans up on tiptoe to kiss him. He subtlely turns his head, almost imperceptibly, offering each cheek to her, but does not kiss back. A few minutes later, Alexis opens the door to find Ned lounging comfortably in her bed, pouring champagne. He looks up and studies her for a moment. Ned: Hm. Anxious, but not hysterical. I take it he didn't let you have it? Alexis: No. Like me, he never met a feeling he couldn't hide. An hour later, Stefan stands in the foggy cold of the cemetery in front of her "grave" which she didn't have the decency to remove. Although, it was somewhat appropriate, since she was indeed dead, to him. And the grave gave him a place to come and talk to the ghost of who she once was. He is somewhat confused at his need to come out here tonight, since it was Katherine's, not Lasha's rejection that had him so cold. But rather than dwelling on the inconsistency, he silently whispers sweet nothings to her memory for a while before turning to go. He is gingerly stepping around the graves on his way out to the car, when he spies a dark heap on top of a grave to his left. He turns and sees that it is someone, kneeling/laying on the grass in front of the headstone. He gazes a moment at the figure, all bundled up in a long coat and scarf, empathizing with the emotion that would drag someone out here on such a night... He turns silently to respectfully leave the mourner in peace, when he catches a glimpse of a stray strand of long dark hair blowing out of the scarf. Stefan gazes intently at the person, not quite believing... quietly he walks around behind her, and reads the name on the headstone: Robert Scorpio. It *was* her. He quickly turns to go, not wanting to interrupt her grief. Anna: Well, don't steal away without saying hello. He turns back around and finds her staring at him, a pale face peeking out of the sea of darkness, of the night, of her clothes, of her pain... But she is smiling in a somewhat inviting way. Stefan: I didn't want to disturb you. Anna: Since when? Stefan: Well, (with a hint of a smile) this time you're not on my property. Anna: Well, your stealth needs work. (she starts to stand up with difficulty in the long coat and the muscles sore from sitting so long in one position) He reaches a hand out to help her to her feet, which she stares at a moment before taking. Anna: So, who is it that brings you out here tonight? Stefan: An old friend. Anna: Me too. Stefan: (gesturing toward the headstone) Your husband. Anna: Same difference. Stefan: (smiling sadly) Well, then, I envy you. To have married your friend. Anna: Yes, well... (gazing off absently) What is it that they say... "better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all?" Stefan: Is it? Anna: That's the rumor. I'll let you know if I find out it's true. Stefan: Do. They begin to walk through the cemetery, toward the gate. The ground is cold and uneven, and Anna stumbles a bit, caught on the arm by Stefan. She shivers and holds onto his elbow. Stefan: How long have you been out here, Ms. Devane? Anna: (she scrunches up her forehead in thought) Well, I can't actually say. A while. Stefan: You must be freezing. Anna: I've been colder. Stefan: I'm sure (understanding she wasn't referring to the weather). They arrive at his limousine, and she lets go of his arm. Anna: Well, thank you for the escort. Stefan: Where is your vehicle? Anna: (pointing down to her feet) Haven't quite gotten around to purchasing an auto since I've been back. Stefan: Well, then, you must allow my driver to take you home. (He holds open the door for her) Anna: I'm afraid I'm not much up for company tonight, thank you though. Stefan: Nonsense, you are already weak enough. You will not walk home in the freezing cold. Get in the car. Anna: (bristling) We need to get something straight between us, Mr. Cassadine, if we are going to remain friends. I make my own decisions, and I've no need of coddling. Stefan: (stopping short, unused to being referred to as a "friend") (he pauses, but eventually smiles indulgently) My mistake. Anna: Indeed. They stand outside the open car door, staring at each other, Stefan not wanting to push the issue of the car, Anna, not wanting to walk away. Finally, with a roll of the eyes, she gets in the car. Stefan smiles to himself as she scoots across the seat. He gets in after her and closes the door. She turns to him. Stefan: (smugness) Wise choice. Anna: Yet another rule, Mr. Cassadine. Save the patrimony. Stefan: My mistake. Anna: Indeed. They stare straight ahead for a moment as Anna feigns indignation and Stefan feigns penitence. She turns her head slightly to try to steal a glimpse at him, but he catches her eye and she laughs out loud. Anna: Aren't we a gruesome pair, all somber after our midnight graveyard rituals? (she continues laughing) Unprepared for her levity, Stefan finds himself smiling genuinely for the first time since... he can't remember.   Chapter 32 Anna: Don't look now, Mr. Cassadine, but I believe that's a twinkle in your eye... Stefan: What, don't I have a reputation for mirth? Anna: Count Vlad, I believe that's what he calls you... Stefan: I can't imagine who. Anna: Yes, you're the subject of more than one mealtime conversation at any Spencer gathering. (pensive) Not Laura though. Now that I think about it, she never gets into it like the others. Stefan: (not responding to her comments about Laura) Do you spend much time with them? Anna: Since I've been back, I've spent quite a bit of time over at the brownstone. I'm actually closer to Felicia and Bobbie than I am to Luke and Laura. But my husband was very close to Luke and Laura, and so being around them is... Stefan: Comforting? Anna: Yes. Stefan: I feel the same way about Nikolas. I feel blessed to be able to have raised him. Anna: Ah, yes, your nephew. So he makes you feel closer to your brother, then? Stefan: (startled at what he might have implied and therefore glad for her misunderstanding) Yes. My brother. Anna: (somewhat confused, knowing that Stavros was horrid, and not being able to reconcile that with the impression she has of Stefan) Do you remember him fondly? Stefan: My brother? Anna: Isn't that whom we're talking about? Stefan: Yes, of course. Well, he was... Nikolas' father. Do I remember him fondly? Not particularly. But the time around the birth was... a happy time for me. And for his mother, of course. (he smiles knowingly) Somewhat of a novelty for her, considering the circumstances. Anna: She mentioned that you were kind to her when she was on that island. Stefan: Did she? Anna: Yes, that was at dinner last night, right before another lewd insinuation by Luke. Stefan: I'm surprised you'd get in a car with me, given the company you keep. So are we taking you to the brownstone, then? Anna: No, Mac Scorpio's actually. I'm staying with him. Stefan: Your brother-in-law. Anna: Yes. Stefan picks up the phone and tells the driver where they're going. Anna: Well, I must admit, I have my own lurid Cassadine connections. Stefan: With Petros. Anna: You knew. Stefan: I have made it my business to know everything about those who do business with my family. Anna: (smirking) Well, don't tell! It's my well-kept secret. Stefan: Well, if you're going to steal art and jewels, at least do it well. Anna: That's what I thought! Work with the best. Stefan: He was that. Anna: But you weren't close? Stefan: Petros was banished from the family decades ago. Formal contact with him would have been inappropriate. He died around 10 years ago. Anna: Yes, I know. That was around the time that I was giving your cousin power of attorney over all the money I'd made with Petros. I actually went to his funeral incognito. Stefan: So did I. Anna: You were there? But I thought he was persona non grata. Stefan: He was, but I was in charge at that point, and could do what I wished. Petros was a character, and so I stopped in to pay my respects. Anna: What a coincidence. Stefan: So you see, our lives have intersected on more than one occasion, starting with your DVX activity. Anna: Not a cherished memory. I hold the manipulations of those people responsible for the loss of a dear love. Stefan: Which you eventually found again. Anna: But all the time wasted in between... The first years of our daughter's life were spent without Robert. Stefan: (sadly) The loss of a parent from a child's life is never fair. Anna studies him for a moment. Anna: That sounds personal. Stefan: (pausing) On many levels. Anna: (realizing that he isn't going to say anything more) So what would cause you to be interested in the activities of the DVX? Stefan: (welcoming the subject change) The political movement in the former Soviet state was always of interest to my family. Anna: Of course, the Romanov genes and all that... Stefan: Yes. Anna: I should think you'd be rather glad about the current state of things then. Stefan: The country is in shambles. Anna: Yes, but it will recover. Stefan: So the capitalist economists prognosticate. Anna: Capitalism has served you very well, I notice. (Trying not to snicker) Don't tell me you'd like to see the monarchy reinstated and crowned Tsar. Stefan: No. More importantly I wouldn't want that sort of overly scrutinized life forced upon my nephew at the young age of 18. Anna: I should think not. The monarchy of my beloved homeland has become a laughingstock. Stefan: Indeed. Your beloved homeland? But I thought you were an American citizen. Anna: (laughing, she touches his knee lightly) I was being facetious and yes, I was naturalized many years ago. God bless America. Stefan: He has. (looking at her pointedly) At least with the bounty of beautiful, witty women. Anna: Flattery does not become you, Mr. Cassadine. (Mischievously) And how do you know He is not a She? Stefan: Because a woman of your caliber, Ms. Devane, could only be the product of a divine fantasy. Anna: Well, now you're treading dangerous theological ground. Stefan: If one must tread theological ground, the dangerous variety would be the most interesting. Anna laughs and rolls her eyes, crossing her leg flirtatiously. They are silent a moment. Anna: Now how am I to go back to the Spencers and tell them that I found you utterly delightful? It would spoil your reputation. Stefan: Tell them where you found me instead. That should be consistent enough for such banal tastes as theirs. Anna: Oh yes, a morbid rendezvous in the graveyard. How... Emily Bronte. You realize that you're much easier to tolerate without your goons pointing guns at me. Stefan: If memory serves, and since I'm a Cassadine, it rarely fails, it was you who drew the first weapon. Anna: You were being difficult. Stefan: Of course. My mistake. Anna: Indeed. The limousine arrives at Mac's house, and the engine cuts off. Stefan and Anna sit for an awkward moment. Stefan: Ms. Devane, it has been a pleasure. Anna: How is it that we carried on an entire conversation without referring to the fact that both of us started this evening off as basketcases moping over gravestones? Stefan: (suddenly somber) Grief is a very private thing. Anna: It doesn't have to be. Stefan: Yes, it does. Anna: I've told you all about my life tonight. You, on the other hand, have divulged nothing. Stefan: Such is my practice. Anna: So I suppose you won't tell me who you were visiting tonight. Stefan just smiles slightly in a way that makes it clear that he does not intend to share. Anna: Well, in that case, I thank you for dazzling conversation and a warm ride home. Stefan: It was my pleasure to speak with someone who doesn't want to discuss the hospital or the latest gossip. Anna: We'll save those topics for another day. Stefan: Let's not. Stefan smiles, and then gets out of the car, walks around to the other side, opens Anna's door and offers a hand. Anna takes it and climbs out of the limousine. Stefan raises her gloved hand to his lips and bestows a light kiss. Stefan: Good night, Ms. Devane. Anna smiles broadly. Anna: And to you, Mr. Cassadine.   Chapter 33 A week later Anna awakes the next morning, in a bed she doesn't recognize. After a disorienting moment or so, she remembers where she is and that all is (relatively) well. She stumbles into a bathrobe and plods into the kitchen, on a quest for coffee. Mac greets her with a kiss. Mac: Where's Robin? Anna: (concerned) She didn't come home last night? Mac: No, but that doesn't mean much. She has this habit of running off to Mantauk with men I disapprove of. Anna: Hasn't she grown so? (sighing) I honestly don't know how she has the energy to run away to anywhere. All that turkey yesterday gave me the soundest sleep I've had in years! Mac: (sipping his coffee casually, and perusing the morning paper) Well, you'll wake up quick when you see what's in the driveway. Anna: What are you talking about? Mac: Just go have a look for yourself. Anna wraps her robe more tightly around her and steps out into the cold morning. The glint of jet black metal instantly catches her eye. She stares at the Saab with bewilderment before walking toward it and opening the drivers-side door. Taped to the steering wheel is an ivory parchment envelope with one word... "Anna". She settles into the seat and opens the envelope. Inside is a key to the car and a note. "Ms. Devane, Knowing that you were in need of a vehicle, I thought I might save you the hassle and aggravation of an exhaustive shopping venture. We wouldn't want to inflict you on those unwitting car salesmen anyway. This car will suit you perfectly since it has an excessively large boot in which you might tote all your 'baggage'. The colour choice I thought appropriate since we only seem to meet in the darkness, both physical and otherwise. I am well aware of your rule against patrimony, so I won't pretend to lavish this vehicle on you as a gift or indulgence. Please use the key to drive to the launch to Wyndemere, where I will present you with the additional key and title upon full payment of U.S. $1. There will be no bargaining from this price in either direction, I assure you. I look forward to doing business with you. Yours most sincerely, Stefan Cassadine" Anna laughs in spite of her indignation and leans her head back against the honey-colored leather headrest. Noticing a tape in the cassette player, she inserts the key in the ignition and turns. The speakers exquisitely send forth "God Save the Queen", or "My Country 'Tis of Thee", the intentional ambiguity allowed for by the instrument-only orchestration. Anna shakes her head in wonder at him. She hasn't seen him since their soulful meeting at the cemetery. How skillful he is at staying distant in the face of seeming sincerity. Well, she thinks, shaking herself out of her reverie, she'd best get dressed so that she can rebuff this ridiculous gesture. At the gatehouse, Ned groans and rolls over to find the other side of the bed empty. He hears a somewhat familiar steaming sound and opens his eyes reluctantly to see Alexis ironing a blouse, wearing nothing but one of his blue oxfords. Ned: That's a very professional look for you, darling. Alexis looks over at him and smiles. Alexis: Well, I'm working on an alternative. Ned: I do just love how you've rolled my sleeves up like that, so that I get to iron next. Alexis: Oh just take it to the dry-cleaners for heaven's sake, whiner. Ned: Why didn't you do that with your clothes? Alexis: If you'll recall, I was being rushed when I grabbed my clothes for today and threw them in your back seat. Ned: (snickering) Oh yeah. Not that you need clothes. Alexis: Ah, but I'm used to the sweltering temperatures of tropical Greece. My delicate constitution simply must be bundled up. Ned: Yeah, that Manhattan sun, you just gotta pile on the Coppertone. Alexis: Manhattan, where's that? Ned: (getting up out of bed and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind) That's where you thought you were going to be before you met moi and I rocked your world. Alexis: Oh is that what happened? Ned: That's what happened. (He buries his face in her neck, pulling the shirt down her arm a bit, and kisses her shoulders) You realize, of course, that you don't need clothes to stay warm. Alexis: Of course not. Not when I have a steaming iron (she squirts steam out the iron's spout in his face). Ned: You want steam? Alexis: Did I say that? Ned: Well, let's see, when was our last fight? Alexis: Hm... a week ago, I think. Ned: Oh well, then we're long overdue. Alexis: For a fight? I think we've shown excellent interpersonal skills this week. Ned: Yeah, but if we fight, then... Alexis: What? Ned: We get to make up. Alexis: Oh yes, then by all means, say something truly offensive. Ned laughs and takes the iron out of her hands, setting it on the ironing board. Then he yanks the cord from the wall. Alexis: I wasn't finished, you know. Ned turns her around to face him and slides his hands up under her shirt, tightly holding her waist and pulling her into him. Ned: How's this for offensive: don't go to work today. Alexis: Now that's truly appalling. Ned: Come on, it's the day after Thanksgiving. Nobody works today. Alexis: Oh really? Nobody? Tell me, Sir Ashton, just where were you on this day last year? Ned: That's classified. I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you. (rolling his eyes) Ok, so I was at work. But that's because I was dysfunctional and neurotic. Alexis: And being with me has cleared that psychosis right up, is that it? Ned: No, just replaced it with that slackard, spoiled, rich kid irresponsibility I'm fond of pointing out in relatives. Alexis: Well, don't think for one minute that you're rubbing off on me. I've got a pile of work on my desk and-- Ned: What makes you think I won't follow you? Do you think I can't ravish you in the workplace? Alexis: But that would be so unprofessional. Ned: Blame it on a tryptophan overdose from your first foray into the traditional American Thanksgiving feeding frenzy. Alexis: Are you calling pizza traditional pilgrim fare? Ned: We had pilgrims. Alexis: Ned, they were pointing guns at us. Ned: Well, how do you think the first pilgrims got hold of those wild turkeys? Alexis: Catnip? Am I the turkey in this scenario? Ned: Well, they certainly didn't just rip out the IV's and cut off the ventilator. Alexis: Hey, don't mock, I have it on excellent authority that such a method can be most effective. Ned: You're avoiding the issue. Alexis: You're avoiding the inevitable. I'm going to work, and so are you. Ned: If we sweat, it counts as work. Alexis: Do you want me to throw up? Ned: A sick day! Brilliant! I knew I could count on you. Alexis: I have an idea. We go to work and feign productivity in front of our computers when really, we're exchanging erotica over email all day. Ned: Hm... that has possibilities. Alexis: You're so vile. Ned: It was your idea! Alexis: Objection: hearsay. Ned: Object to this. Ned grabs her and throws her back-down onto the bed. Alexis: Let me just get this on tape, so I can press charges later. Ned: Just be glad I'm not getting creative with that ironing board.