"Bring Stefan Back Fanfiction Challenge"     Three Things     By IcemanGal   Nikolas entered the study at Wyndemere in a gentler, more content mood than he had known in a long time. True, he had left Emily behind at the cottage, but this time it had been different, because soon he would not leave her at all, soon they would be together in every meaningful way. Soon the incessant loneliness would leave him. True, she was still concerned about Zander's feelings. And while Nikolas had never understood the gift that little punk had for engaging the sympathies of otherwise intelligent women - Emily, of course, but also Gia, and even Alexis - he had to admit that it reflected well on Emily that she did care. But they would get it all sorted out and then he and Emily would be together forever. He looked around the study, imagining Emily there, and in the other rooms of the house. It occurred to him that he might sell Wyndemere. He would probably have to sooner or later and doing it sooner might give him some small advantage. It had never really been his taste, nor did he think it was Emily's; it had been Stefan's selection, and it was filled with reminders of his uncle, reminders that were, no matter what he might say to others, increasingly painful. Sitting down on the couch, Nikolas sat back and closed his eyes. Sometimes, late at night, when the servants had retired for the night, Wyndemere was filled with odd noises. They creaked with meaning, hinting at ghosts and secrets, but most likely they were just rats building homes in the secret passages. Even if he didn't sell the place - and he really thought he would - Nikolas decided he would seal off those passages. The Cassadines were finally done with secrets, he thought. Suddenly, he thought he heard some noises that were not entirely usual. In some ways typical, yes, sounds of movements and scratchings that might be within the hidden passageways. But something about them caught his attention. He listened more intently. Louder, he thought, loud enough to be a considerably larger animal. And perhaps deliberate. Which meant it was possibly a man. Or a woman for that matter. He thought of his grandmother, who had said she was remaining in town to run a few 'errands'. The police had not found her and, considering that they hadn't even made an effort to arrest her during Stefan's funeral, Nikolas thought they were unlikely to do so. Nikolas picked up a sturdy fireplace poker and a flashlight and, after tripping the spring, went through the entry that opened up so smoothly…. It was, indeed, a human figure huddled against the corner turn leading towards the study, but so unexpected - and Nikolas had learned to expect nearly anything, especially where his family was concerned - that he nearly dropped the flashlight and the poker. "You're dead," he said. "Evidently not," came the answer, in a voice of sandpaper quiet. "But…" He should have known. No one in his family ever seemed to stay dead. Or anywhere they were supposed to be. "I saw your body. I saw Luke Spencer… desecrate it." In his loathing for what he had witnessed he allowed himself to express the grief he had tamped down repeatedly over the last few weeks. "Nikolas… shine some light on the situation," said the man who looked so like his uncle. Remembering the flashlight in his hand, he lifted it towards the huddled figure. Yes… he looked exactly like Stefan, thinner, shabbier - externally, that is - but the face, the eyes, the overall frame of the man. In those few weeks, could he have, in some dark hiding place, become so thin? "Look closer. I taught you that, at least. To never trust the superficial…" Nikolas took a step closer, still holding up his lantern. The eyes, he kept looking at the eyes, the same eyes, but different, he couldn't quite grasp the difference, and then he looked further down and he realized what was there, or rather, what wasn't. The scar. The man in the corridor had no scars on his face. Which meant he was not the man who had died at Luke Spencer's hand. He was not the man who had forced him into marriage with Lydia, who had saddled him with an impossible debt to a drug dealer, who had tried to murder Emily. Which meant - and Nikolas knew this in a heart he thought long-hardened - that this man, this man, not the other, was Stefan Cassadine. "Uncle…." "Yes, my baby boy… it is I." "You… came home." There were tears in his eyes. "But where have you been?" "It is a long story, and there are some… odd twists in it." "You are ill, I can see that." Nikolas put the poker down and went to Stefan, helping him up. "I will take you in, and get you a brandy, make you comfortable, and you can tell me everything. Do you want me to call Alexis, have her come over?" Stefan shook his head. "Not yet. And… we cannot go in just yet." "Why not?" "Because… we must wait." "For what?" Stefan seemed distracted. He looked out in the direction from which he came. "I gave my word…" "To whom?" Before Stefan could answer - and Nikolas was not entirely certain that he would have - they heard something or someone in the corridor. Someone used to moving quietly, but there was a faint echo in the passage that could not be avoided, and anyway, they were both listening for movement now. Another figure emerged from the deeper shadows, and not only was this someone else Nikolas had relegated to the grave, finally, but it was someone he never expected to see with his uncle or, more to the point, to be someone for whom Stefan would be waiting patiently. His father. "Will someone tell me what's going on?" he asked angrily. "First, help me get him inside. He has been ill and it is rather damp here." "I can get him in," Nik said with stiff defensiveness. "Whatever you like," Stavros said and went into the study. He went straight to the decanter on the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. "Nikolas? Stefan?" he said without turning, as Nikolas helped his uncle inside and onto the couch. "No thank you," Nikolas said coldly, but Stefan said, "I could use a short one, yes, Stavros." "When did you two become… friends?" Nikolas asked, wondering anew if this was really his uncle. "Friends?" Stavros laughed dryly. "Hardly that. Call it a temporary alliance. Born of necessity." "But… how? Why?" He addressed himself strictly to Stefan. "You hate each other. He killed Chloe Morgan and framed you for it." ""Well, that was your grandmother's fault," Stavros said. Nikolas ignored him. "Your father is right," Stefan said. "This is an alliance of necessity. It is the only way I could get back to you…" "But how could you trust him? And why did it take so long? And how did whoever this man was - " "Why don't I just tell you as much as I know," Stefan said, warming his brandy between his hands. "It may answer some of your questions…" Nikolas nodded. "Your grandmother had me abducted from Milan sometime last year. She kept me prisoner in a small chalet she had in Geneva, near a clinic run by a Dr. Brandt. A plastic surgeon." "I see," Nikolas said. "Then she had this man do plastic surgery to make someone look like you." "One of her young men," Stefan said. "Not as young as usual," Stavros pointed out. He had relaxed into one of the armchairs with his brandy. "She also offered me the new face of my choice, just as a safety measure, but I do not think she was all that disappointed when I turned her down." He stroked his beard and smiled. Nikolas continued to ignore him. "Your grandmother knows me as well as nearly anyone does," Stefan continued, "at least superficially, and since her intent was to destroy me, well, from the inside out… she did not need him trained in any special way." "Then why did she keep you alive at all?" Nikolas had no illusions that Helena might spare her hated younger son out of sentiment, for she had none where he was concerned. Did she, in fact, have any where anyone was concerned? One possible exception to that concept said, "To torture him, of course. She kept him well apprised of his double's actions." It exploded out of Nikolas. "Why are you here?" Stavros arched an eyebrow. "The last time I saw you, I thought we had gotten closer." "The last time we saw each other we were trapped in Grandmother's labyrinth and you had just… I mean… it was a lifetime ago." "Two years ago. And to a man who lay frozen for nearly twenty, it is the blink of an eye." He got up and refilled his glass. "The last time we saw each other, you said you wanted the chance to get to know me." "That's not exactly true," Nikolas started, and then sighed. "You still haven't answered my question." It was Stefan who answered. "Nikolas… Stavros broke me out of your grandmother's prison. He smuggled me here." "Why? And why now? Where were you both when this… double was destroying my life? Destroying everything…" "Well," Stavros said, "my own convalescence was just completing when Stefan joined us. And at first, I had no objections to Mother amusing herself at your uncle's expense. But when I saw what her agenda was doing to you…" "How could you trust him?" Nikolas asked Stefan. "It was not easy, I assure you. But in spite of our very real hatred for each other, the stark reality of our rivalries… your father and I discovered we have three things in common that made it possible to work together on this." "Really?" Nikolas let out a small, almost strangled laugh. "What were they?" "We both loved - and lost - your mother, if not to Luke Spencer, than to the madness that now grips her." "What makes you so certain he had nothing to do with that?" Nikolas asked angrily. "When Laura had her breakdown," Stavros pointed out, "I was immobilized in a hospital bed and I believe your grandmother was ministering to polar bears." He smirked, leaning back against the armchair again, enjoying the images playing in his head. Nikolas shook his head. "What were the other two things?" he asked Stefan. "We both love you, something I have finally admitted to be true about my brother as well as myself. And… finally… he agrees with me that Helena must be stopped." "You have always sided with her," Nikolas said, addressing his father directly. "When I asked you to stop her evil plans that day… you said you would not." "I said I could not, because your uncle and Luke Spencer would remain my mortal enemies and would keep coming after me till I was dead." He shrugged. "I was half right." "Why did you change your mind? If your so-called love for me couldn't turn you from her…" "But it did. When I saw that she was willing to saddle you with a loveless marriage - something I would never countenance - that she had put you in debt to that drug-running peasant, that she had the Quartermaine girl murdered, or would have, if her flunkies had not been so inept… Whatever my sins, Nikolas, I have always believed in, and always wanted to see you marry, as I did, for love." Nikolas made a rather vulgar sound, something like a snort. Stavros ignored it. "What happened to the lovely Miss Campbell, by the way?" "Gia and I… didn't work out. We grew apart." He flushed. "She dumped me." "An awkward Americanism for what I must admit is a more than awkward circumstance," Stavros said. "I am sorry to hear it. She was devoted to you and I felt she would make an excellent consort." "I really don't want to talk about it." Stavros made a casual gesture with his free hand. "Miss Quartermaine will be quite suitable, I am sure, once your two unfortunate marriages are settled. At any rate, you love her. That is good enough for your uncle and myself." "I'm so glad to hear it," Nikolas said, and Stavros arched his brow again before bursting into laughter. When he stopped laughing he said, "Also, her embezzlement of the Cassadine fortune, backdating her efforts to make it look as if it was for my benefit… well, my pride was injured, at the very least." Whatever, Nikolas thought, but did not say. "Why did you come here with him? Why not just unlock his cell and step out of the way?" "Well, for one thing, your grandmother was bound to be quite angry and I did not feel like dealing with it. And for another, my assistance came at a price." "I knew it. I knew you wouldn't do it just because it was fair or right or even to annoy Grandmother. What was your pound of flesh, Father?" It was Stefan who answered. "He asked me to influence you to give him a chance, Nikolas." "Well, then, he did the right thing for nothing, which somehow seems appropriate, doesn't it, Uncle?" Stefan didn't answer. "I'm never going to do that. Why should I? You're nothing to me. You're a figure out of my nightmares." "That is not quite true," Stavros said quietly. For a moment, Nikolas felt a chill go through him. How could his father know about the dreams that had tormented him for several weeks after their last encounter? Dreams that had tormented him not because his father had appeared in a malignant form, but because they were so insistent that his father loved him… and that, given the chance, he might love Stavros in return. He decided not to deal with it right now. "How long have you been in town?" "We only just arrived," Stefan said. "Believe me, if we could have been here sooner…" Any moment of trouble he could have spared Nikolas would have been worth whatever exertion required. "Your uncle, as I said, has been ill," Stavros said. "And we had to move carefully. Your grandmother has been trying to find us… Obviously we do not wish to be found." "Is that why she was - ?" He stopped. Of course. That was why Helena had come to the 'funeral.' She had known that Stefan would return to Port Charles, would come to him, would try to undo as much of the damage as possible. "She's still here, isn't she? She told me she had errands to run. Her errand… is you." Stefan nodded. "We must be very careful." A glance at Stavros. "Something your father is not particularly adept at." "Excuse me?" Stavros looked offended. "Look," Nikolas said, ignoring him again, "it's probably too dangerous for you to be here, and there's not a lot you can do for me now. I mean, just knowing you are you, and he was not - that you did not do those terrible things, and pretend they were in my name - that means a great deal to me. But to stay here… I'm divorcing Lydia and marrying Emily as soon as we're both free. And I'll deal with the… money situation as well as I can." "That happens to be something we can help you with," Stefan said. "But I don't really care about it and neither does Emily. I've worked before. I can do it again." "You will never work off that ridiculous debt," his uncle said. "Now, before we left, your father managed to recover a small amount of the Estate. But to reclaim the rest, I need uninterrupted access to a secure computer." "That's no problem," Nikolas said. He watched as his uncle laid down his glass with an air of exhaustion. "I should call Alexis, but it will wait till tomorrow." "No," Stavros said sharply. "You don't get to decide," Nikolas told him. "You aren't the Prince anymore, and even if you were… there's nothing to reign over." "There is this family," Stavros corrected him. "I will never serve you." Stefan stood up and cut in, saying, "Nikolas, you can't call Alexis yet. She will turn him in." "What if she does?" Nikolas asked. "I gave my word." "I didn't," his nephew countered. "Would you make mine meaningless, then?" There was a long pause as Nikolas and Stefan looked at each other steadily. Finally, Nikolas said, "Fine. He can stay. And I won't call Alexis. Yet. But she really needs to know you're alive, Uncle. And that you're… you." "We will talk about it in the morning." Nikolas nodded. "I will show you to your room." "Don't worry about me," Stavros said cheerfully. "I will… what is the expression? Crash? I will find a suite where I can crash. Perhaps a pretty chambermaid will take pity on me." Nikolas sighed. "There is a room in the south wing that is always ready. It should suit your needs. Come…"   For the next three days Stefan and Stavros stayed in one suite of rooms, with Stefan working on Nikolas's laptop and Stavros… pacing. Pretending to read. Looking out windows. Although most of the staff was well-known to Nikolas and, he thought, loyal to the Cassadine, he was taking no chances and exposed his uncle and father to as little risk as possible. The only person he confided in was Mrs. Lansbury, who prepared their trays herself, alone in the kitchen, and brought them up when no one else was nearby. When Stefan was not on the computer, he and Nikolas sat and talked. At first they talked about Stefan's captivity and Helena's schemes, but there was only so much that could be said about that. Next they talked about the events of the intervening year, of Alexis's struggles to regain custody of Kristina, now successful, and her friendship with Cameron Lewis, and especially of Emily, the wonderful, agonizing, unexpected falling into love. Stefan saw the light in Nikolas's eyes and encouraged him to speak of the girl who had put it there. He asked about Gia and Nikolas found that he could talk to his uncle about it, about the pain of Gia's rejection, but the gradual realization that Gia had been right, they had both changed and needed to move on. "She's a wonderful girl and what we had was… amazing. I wish her well, I want her to be happy, but I'm not the man who can do that for her." Stefan nodded. "I came to like Miss Campbell very much. I wish nothing but good things for her." "I just hope… Father stays away from her." "I do not think he will concern himself with her." After a moment he smiled slightly and said, "Although he might find Lydia Karenin of interest." For the first time since he had found them in the passage, Nikolas laughed. "Oh, Uncle, I wouldn't wish that, even on Lydia!" Stefan joined in his laughter briefly, then said, "Nikolas…" "No. Let's not even talk about it." "We must. He kept his word, Nikolas. He got me out of there and safely to you." "He is a murderer and a rapist." "We have all sinned, Nikolas, none of us free from it…" He paused. "It took courage for him to defy your grandmother, to turn on her. And he was the only one who could do it." There was a long pause. Stefan was still, giving his nephew the space he clearly needed. After a while Nikolas said, "Right after he… fell, I was a little sorry. Because he had helped Gia and me, and because I had started to think he had cared about me. But… when I asked him to come with us… when I reminded him that he had said he wanted to get to know me, and that this was his chance… he told me no. He had something he had to do. And that something was fighting Luke Spencer. So… I felt he really didn't care about me. Not as much as he wanted his revenge." "I would not dream of justifying anything Stavros has done. Nor would he wish me to. I will only say that for all the evil of his life, he cares about you more than he ever has anyone, and that includes your mother. Because, for you, he went against his own nature and his own interests and that is something he has never done before." Nikolas didn't say anything, but Stefan knew his nephew well enough to know that he did not have to. He was thinking about his uncle's words, and for Stefan, that was good enough.     "He's alive?" Alexis asked. Nikolas nodded. "Does anyone in this family ever stay dead?" It was rhetorical, said with an almost theatrical sigh, as she fussed over Kristina. Nikolas answered anyway. "Well, unlike… my father, he was never really dead, it turned out." He told her the story of Stefan's captivity, Helena's recruitment of the double, and Stefan's recent appearance. By the time he was done, he knew that Alexis believed him, completely believed that the man he found in the passageway was Stefan, and that he was innocent of the many crimes that had convinced them that Stefan had become a kind of monster before his 'death'. "Well, it's a relief," she said, her light tone belying the deep comfort she felt now that her brother and protector had been restored to her. "But how did he get away?" "I gave my word." "I didn't." "Would you make mine meaningless, then?" It had taken him nearly a week to convince Stefan that Alexis should be told he was alive, that they needed Alexis. But Stefan had been firm in his insistence that Stavros be kept out of it. And so, out of deference and loyalty to his uncle, for no other reason, Nikolas said, "He's smarter than Helena, you know that, and he knows how to be patient, how to wait for his opportunity. One came along and… he took it." "That simple, hmm?" "It's never that simple, Alexis. But that's basically what happened." She nodded slightly, skeptically, but said nothing for a moment as she continued to attend to Kristina. "She's gotten so big," he said with a smile. "Yes. And I missed so much of it…" Another pause. "Where is he, Nikolas? Does he want to see me?" "He does. He always did. He just has to be really careful. Because of Helena." She brushed a lock of hair out of Kristina's eyes and the little girl cooed appealingly. "He's never seen her. If that was an impostor this past several months… he's never seen his niece." "Then shouldn't we remedy that situation?" a familiar voice came from behind her, and Alexis looked up and around, tears unexpectedly blurring her vision. Leaving his aunt and uncle to reunite in peace, Nikolas made his way up to the south end of Wyndemere. Stavros had promised to stay in his suite during Alexis's visit but Nikolas wanted to be sure. He knew how restless his father was, how mischievous and mercurial he could be. Stavros was lying, fully dressed, on the bed, which was made, and his eyes were open. He was staring at the ceiling, and he was quite still, but when Nikolas knocked softly on the doorframe, he sat up immediately, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Nikolas," he said, with a smile. "Is everything… acceptable?" He felt an awkward host to this unwelcome guest, but his training was too deep, and there were times when Stavros looked at him - an oh-so-casual look, and yet, it said so plainly that here was his father, here was someone to whom he was connected by the profound bonds of blood and history… "Apart from the fact that I would sacrifice my little finger, at the very least, for the chance to go for a walk or ride along the coast of this Godforsaken place… everything is quite acceptable." "You know you can't," Nikolas said, less sternly than he had meant to. "I even know why," Stavros said with a smile, which then faded. "Still… it seems a shame to be resurrected not once, but twice, and yet to find oneself confined as surely as if one was in prison. A very nice prison, indeed, Nikolas, even more appealing than either of the ones your grandmother devised for me, and far superior to the actual if I have any real sense of what that would be…" His voice drifted off Suddenly Nikolas was seized by a small but real pang of compassion for his father, who surely belonged in prison, for his murder of Chloe Morgan if nothing else, and God knew there were other matters for which Stavros Cassadine should be held accountable. But to be brought from the tomb and then restricted to spaces little bigger, to be given life and then no one to spend it with but a hovering, smothering mother whose malignant affection is perhaps the only love you have ever known… He knew he would do neither of them a favor by speaking of it though. Instead, he asked, "When this is done, when Uncle has retrieved the Estate, what will you do?" "I have not given it much thought. Getting Stefan here, staying out of Mother's orbit, regaining the Cassadine fortune… that seemed enough for the immediate future. And to simply appear in public and declare myself found… I do not think I would enjoy my liberty long before it was interfered with." Nikolas nodded. "Probably not." "It is kind of you to ask. Well… I suspect you also want to gauge how much trouble I can cause." Nikolas did not deny it. "What if I told you I was done with all that? That all I really want is my life and the freedom to enjoy it?" "I'd wonder why you'd think I'd believe that." "Perhaps because I have had time to reflect. My first 'imprisonment' - my time on ice, so to speak - was not a period of strong consciousness on my part, though I do believe my spirit floated as restlessly as it does now. But after my fall through that ridiculous pit, I had a lengthy convalescence in which to consider things." It occurred to Nikolas that if someone did not find Stavros a constructive way to occupy his time while at Wyndemere they might have more trouble on their hands than they could manage. "Uncle has managed to find and retrieve quite a bit of the Estate, which means there is business that could be done. He could probably use some help with that." He didn't add that this would depend on Stavros's ability and willingness to take direction from his 'worthless' younger brother. Stavros nodded. "It would need to be done from here, though. And… without letting anyone know that the big bad monster is back." "We do a lot of our business by computer now. It's changed quite a bit, I imagine, since you were… in charge." Nikolas could see something in Stavros's eyes shift, could see him weighing the urge to seize power against the risks visibility would pose. Finally, he nodded slightly. "I suppose I could be of… I mean, it would be something to do for the moment." Another pause. "But I would need someone to show me." Nikolas understood. "Let me get my laptop." "She's beautiful, Alexis. She is just… remarkable." "She really is, isn't she? And such a good girl." She watched Stefan play with Kristina, who seemed to like him immediately. "Yes, very good. A sweet disposition. Much like her mother." Alexis shook her head. "I'm not that sweet, Stefan, I don't think I ever was." "I remember otherwise. I remember a gentle little girl who needed a friend…" She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "And when Kristina was killed, I think whatever sweetness there may have been in me went away forever." "But now you have another Kristina." Stefan took the girl in his arms and came over to Alexis with her. "And no, one life doesn't replace another, but this one needs you and loves you." His eyes reminded her of a time he had faced a similar crossroads, having lost the woman he loved and the brother he had once loved, and dedicated himself to the nephew who needed him. "You will be a good mother, Alexis. You are a good mother." She knew he wanted her to nod, to acknowledge his words somehow, but she couldn't. After a moment she said, "Can you ever forgive me, Stefan? For turning on you? I mean, it wasn't you - and maybe I should have known that, maybe we all should have, but… even if it had been you…" "It wasn't. And you were loyal to Nikolas, and to Kristina, and to the idea of this family that we developed together." He placed Kristina down carefully and put his hands on Alexis's shoulders. "And so there is nothing to forgive." "But I wasn't." The tears were starting to spill over. "I did so many stupid things, and I wasn't there for Nikolas, and…" "Shhh…" He pulled her gently to him. "You and I have had our differences before, Alexis, and I imagine we will again." "Differences?" she said, sniffling, as she remembered the time he'd disowned her. "I suppose you could call them that." "But after everything we have been through together, never doubt that we are brother and sister." She stayed in his arms for awhile. It was comforting, reminding her of the hugs he'd given her on the Island so many years ago. After some time she drew herself up and, clear-eyed again, asked him, "So, what are you going to do now? About Helena?" "I'm not sure. And it is probably more to the point to ask what she is going to do about me." They sat down together on the couch. "You think she's still in town?" "I'm virtually sure of it." "The Port Charles police are pretty useless in this matter." "In what matter have they been useful?" he asked and Alexis smiled. "We must convince them of my true identity, as well as my innocence of the crimes committed by my double. There is also the matter of Luke Spencer to consider." "I can… negotiate with Luke. Once he's convinced that you didn't have that girl Summer killed, I think he can be dealt with." "I trust you to deal with him." He was pleased with the warmth of the smile she gave him. "So, tell me… what do you think of this romance between Nikolas and the Quartermaine girl?" "I like Emily, and she's been through an awful lot." She sighed. "Though I can't help but feel for Zander Smith in all this." "Ah, yes, your young protégé." "He's not my protégé, Stefan. He's just a troubled young man I took an interest in. Still am interested in, for that matter. Though I've done a poor job of that, too." He nodded. "If he does not interfere with Nikolas he has nothing to fear from us… Do you think she truly loves Nikolas?" "I think so, yes. I guess only time will tell. Being with her makes him happy, I know that." "That is good enough for me…" "Tell me about this Emily…" They had been working for the past hour and Stavros had picked up the rudiments of computer usage quickly. He was charmed by the Internet, and Nikolas thought that would do a great deal to keep him occupied, at least temporarily. Now they were taking a break. "I told you before, I don't want to talk about her. About any of it." "No, you said you did not wish to talk of your broken engagement to Miss Campbell." "I don't want you involved in my personal life at all." "I am your father." "No, you're not. I mean, you are, obviously, but I don't know you at all, except for - " "Except for horror stories told by my enemies." "Are you telling me that they aren't true?" "I am saying that every story has at least two sides. You have never been interested in mine." "You had a chance to tell me your side. To tell me anything you wanted. I asked you to leave that underground chamber with me. I asked you to come with me and you said no. You chose your vendetta with the Spencers over me. Again." "Well," Stavros said, "there was the matter of almost certain imprisonment, or even death. You act as if I pursued Luke Spencer out of some sort of motiveless malignancy, but in fact, he came to me in that chamber, the one I created for your mother… he was as determined as I that only one of us would leave alive. He has always intended that this all end with the death of the Cassadines, as your uncle's recent near miss should have demonstrated." "Grandmother is still alive." "Yes, well, Spencer's relationship with Mother seems to be as much a flirtation as a vendetta." Nikolas couldn't help but smile. "On both sides." "Indeed." Stavros laughed, and it was a warm laugh, at odds with the forbidding image Nikolas had learned to carry with him since his arrival in Port Charles, the monstrous, revenant figure he had been so certain would punish him for daring to say "I hate you for torturing my mother…I will never let you come back to life." "I can't… you can't stay here. Not permanently. It's not safe for anyone. But I don't know what else to do with you." "It is not for you to decide what… is to be done with me." But his tone was relatively soft. "In any event… I cannot see myself here permanently. This island, this mausoleum… another prison, another coffin." His tone grew still softer. "And yet, I do wish the chance to get to know you. If you only knew, Nikolas, how much I have cherished the smallest crumb of information. Your tastes, your interests… what I would do to see so much as a photograph of this girl who has captivated your heart." There was another long pause, and then Nikolas abruptly left the room. Stavros frowned, wondering why any mention of Emily seemed to push his son away. Surely he was not still holding against him that harmless flirtation with Gia, a woman from whom Nikolas had been estranged at the time, and who he had ended up not marrying after all. And surely he did not think his father would make a similar play for his current inamorata… after all, the circumstances were quite different now. Just as suddenly, Nikolas returned. He was holding a silver frame and as he entered, he handed it to his father. The girl smiling into the camera was very pretty, with long hair and gentle features. But it was the warmth of her smile, a tenderness that seemed to project itself from the print, through the glass, that made Stavros smile. A nice girl, a girl who would love his son, warm his nights, keep him from being alone. "She is lovely…" Kristina had fallen asleep. Stefan had Mrs. Lansbury put her to bed while he and Alexis continued their conversation over tea and scones. "I have missed these," Stefan said, taking a good-sized bite of a scone. "I can't imagine what Helena fed you." She was curled up on the couch, her legs tucked under. "You don't want to," he said. "Or what you ate on the run." "That was not so bad." Stavros had turned out to have a positive genius for finding them little out-of-the-way places to eat. "Are you sure you're ready to make a move? To show the world that you're back? It will attract Helena's immediate attention." Like Nikolas, she was sure that Helena had come to Port Charles not to attend "Stefan"'s funeral, but to smoke out the real thing. "I am hoping for that. To get her out into the open. She is slightly easier to deal with that way." "All right. It's hard to argue with your knowledge of her… I need to know how you got here, the route you took, anyone who might be able to confirm any of your story." He shook his head. "There won't be anyone." She believed him. He covered his tracks well, he was an aristocratic stealth bomber, as far as it went. "Well… what we can do is get the body of the fake exhumed, but to get the court order we may have to reveal that you're here, which might get tricky, to the point that you may have to spend a day or two in the PC jail before they get it straightened out." He nodded. "Not that I am looking forward to it, but it cannot be worse than Helena's hospitality." "You have a point there." She drank some tea. "And I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't happen. And if it does, to make sure you're properly protected. But Scott Baldwin isn't… a rational man. And you'll be cheating him out of a chance to put Luke Spencer in prison." Stefan smiled. "Hardly. I mean, Spencer did kill someone. It happens that I was not the actual victim." Alexis returned his smile, with a note of wistfulness. "I'm glad of that." "And I am glad that you are… glad." Glad to be there with her, glad to have finally met his niece, glad that Helena's machinations had not cost him the love and respect of the people he loved most in the world.   After Alexis returned to the mainland Stefan went upstairs. Going down the hall, he could hear the clickety-clack of a computer keyboard, and low voices. So… Stavros was learning his way around the computer. This could be a good thing, or an opportunity for further mischief. It was also a sign that Nikolas might indeed be giving his father a chance. Stefan had actually been surprised when Stavros accepted his arguments in favor of teaming up against Helena in the matter; after all, they had not worked in the past, not even the last time Stefan had been imprisoned by that hellish duo. What had made the difference? Time - awake, conscious time - for Stavros to consider things, to think about Nikolas, in particular? Or had Stavros, who had been dedicated to nothing so much as his own pleasures, finally wearied of Helena's schemes for conquest? Or was it the knowledge - and surely even Stavros could not have avoided this realization forever - that Helena would sacrifice anyone to her grand designs? If Stavros was the one exception, surely he had faced the incontrovertible fact that no one else he might care about would share that distinction. He had mixed feelings about assuring Stavros's freedom along with his own, but told himself that there was a way to keep his brother under surveillance, and to assure that he did not harm anyone else. To keep his word to his brother now, as well as the implicit promise he had made when he had taken charge of Nikolas's future and well-being all those years ago, would take some doing, but he was not one to shirk a task just because it was difficult. Just then Mrs. Lansbury came down the hall towards him. "Sir… Mrs. Cassadine is here." "My mother? She has actually come here?" Stefan could hardly believe it, even of Helena. "No, sir, the… younger Mrs. Cassadine." Lydia. The dowry bride. The one Nikolas did not love. Stefan was curious about her but knew this was not the time for proper introductions. "Show her to the downstairs sitting room. Nikolas will join her in a few moments. Thank you, Mrs. Lansbury…"   Lydia stood by the antique writing desk, a Carrera marble paperweight in her hand. She balanced it from hand to hand, and when Nikolas walked in she briefly considered testing its heft to see what the impact would do to his head. She dismissed the thought almost as quickly. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't hers, it was just… bad luck. He didn't love her, she didn't love him, and now it was coming to an end. So why did seeing him make her so angry? "Lydia… What can I do for you?" "Well, since the lawyers are now… doing their end of things, and we're all but divorced, I thought I'd leave town, and it seemed rude to do that without saying goodbye. Seeing that you're sort of my husband." He ignored the sarcasm. "You're leaving town?" "Yes. Why shouldn't I?" She put the paperweight down. "Well… Lucky…." "Lucky and I aren't going to happen. I imagine that's reassuring to you in a strange way." "Lydia, now that we aren't going to be married anymore, I hope you find happiness with someone." "Anyone but you?" "Lydia…" She could see that he was distracted, that he wanted to get rid of her, and she wondered if he'd already installed Emily Quartermaine somewhere in the house. "Okay, fine. I just came to say goodbye. I guess I shouldn't have bothered." She picked up her purse. He never knew what to say to her, had never known, never really known what to do with her. "Lydia… I'm sorry. Really." "Sorry?" She looked at him. "I guess I believe that, Nikolas. What I don't know is… are you sorry we didn't make it? Sorry we didn't love each other? Or sorry you didn't even try?" It stung, he realized, because it was true. He had never tried. He had resented her before he even knew her - if he had ever bothered to know her at all. Even now, as she was walking out of his life, this woman who would always be someone to whom he had been married, the first woman to be able to say that, even now… he didn't know her. "All of it," he said. She nodded. "Me, too. Good luck, Nikolas. I hope Emily is… everything you imagined she would be." He wondered, briefly, if that was Lydia's version of some sort of ironic curse, like 'May you live in interesting times' or 'May you get every thing you deserve.' "And I hope you find what you're looking for, Lydia." "For a little while, I started to think it might be you." She walked over, kissed him lightly on the lips and said, "Goodbye, Nikolas. It's been… not quite real." Outside, walking towards the launch, she turned to look at Wyndemere one last time. She wouldn't miss the old cloister, wouldn't miss the loneliness, the contempt. But she thought she might miss the sense of possibility that had sometimes seized her there. Was that Nikolas looking out from an upstairs window? No, he wouldn't have had the time to get up there. It was a man, she could tell that much, dark like Nikolas, and suggesting him somehow… maybe it was a ghost. She'd always figured Wyndemere was filled with them.   With Stavros and Stefan working together they made rapid progress, though Stefan never let him work the computer unsupervised. Finally, most of the Cassadine Estate was Nikolas's again. During this time Stavros had been able to spend some time with his son, and while the conversation was sometimes halting, Nikolas had stopped lashing out at his father. Indeed, sometimes he looked at Stavros in a way that seemed to be musing over him, considering a hundred possible questions he might ask. As a boy he had seen his father as a mythic hero who would rise from the sea and work miracles. And then he had come to Port Charles, met his mother, and met her concept of the man - a monster, a predatory creature of her worst nightmares. The easy answer would be that the truth lay somewhere in between, but what lay between those two extreme images? Perhaps the answer was more complicated than that. He knocked on the study door and Stefan looked away from the computer, peering happily up through his glasses at his nephew. "Nikolas…" "Do you have a minute, Uncle?" "I certainly do. What can I do for you?" Nikolas pulled over a chair and sat very close to Stefan. "I have been doing what you asked of me, giving my father a chance, trying to get to know him…" "I am glad. Whatever the result, I think this is something you need to do, for your own sake, as well as for the sake of the promise I gave him." Another gentle smile. "And how has it been going?" "All right. I mean, we're getting along fine, and I can see that he's making an effort. It's just… how can I judge who he is now and what our relationship can be, if I don't have any idea of who he really was?" "What do you mean?" Nikolas recounted his early fantasies of Stavros for Stefan, who listened as attentively as if he had never been aware of them before. "And then Mother told me what he did to her, how he made her suffer…" "And you lost that boyhood dream of a heroic father." "Well," Nikolas said, smiling shyly. "I did have you. Even though I often acted as if…" "As if you wished you hadn't." Stefan returned his smile. "It's all right, Nikolas. I have come to realize that it is part of growing up to rebel against one's father figure and in the Cassadine family it is generally a more violent rebellion, physically and psychically, than average." Nikolas laughed slightly, acknowledging both Stefan's humor, and the implied dispensation from further apologies for the way he had often treated his uncle. "But what was he, really?" Stefan thought about it, knowing that no definitive answer was possible, wondering if he was the right person to give any answer at all, but wanting, as always, to give Nikolas what he wanted, what he needed so badly. "Stavros was not the great warrior prince of your grandmother's vision, Nikolas, but neither was he a monster, although he grew to become someone who could behave monstrously. When we were younger, we were close. I admired him, his energy, his charm - for he could be charming - his athleticism. But as he grew older… some of it was the pressure of being the heir. A great deal of it had to do with your grandmother. She filled him with a sense of entitlement from almost the beginning. Whatever he wanted, was his. Sometimes before he asked for it. As a result… he began to take without asking. Both our parents taught him to respect nothing but power." "So you blame them?" Stefan shook his head. "Stavros, as a man, had the choice to turn away from that path at any time. I acknowledge that he was trained and led a certain way, but it was his decision to continue to pursue his destiny in that manner. Until now." "Do you think he really has chosen a different path?" "Nikolas, two years ago I would have considered it impossible for Stavros to change in any way. His massive ego and total self-centeredness - not to mention Mother's involvement - would have made it a ridiculous concept. But now… I believe it is possible. Because he truly believes that he loves you and that you are worth making that effort."     "Do you remember a letter you wrote to me?" Nikolas and Stavros were sitting on a balcony in the back of the south wing, a safe way for Stavros to get some fresh air since it was not visible to the mainland or indeed, most parts of Spoon Island. None of them had discounted the idea of Helena's spies investing in sophisticated surveillance equipment, so Stavros and Stefan were both extremely careful in their movements. Stefan was downstairs with Alexis, going over her plans to bring about his exoneration and re-entry into public life. "I wrote you a letter? From my cryogenic chamber?" Stavros sipped at his glass of iced tea and reached for another one of Mrs. Lansbury's impressively flaky turnovers. "It gives new meaning to the term 'automatic writing'." "No," Nikolas said, scowling slightly. "This was written the day I was born. Uncle must have saved it for me and then… I don't know. Forgotten it…" "Ah…Yes. I remember. It was during the first quiet moments, after your mother had fallen asleep and your grandmother was attending to the preparations for your presentation ceremony." He smiled, almost to himself. "I had gone in to see you and you were sleeping so peacefully… already, I thought, you looked a little like me…" He drank some more tea. "So, Stefan gave you the letter?" "No, I found it while I was going through some files. After you… after the last time we saw each other." After a moment he said, "I started to read it, but Lucky Spencer threw it in the fireplace." "I take it there was a fire going at the time," Stavros said with a little smile. Nikolas nodded and Stavros, the smile gone, said, "He had no right to do that." "It started, 'Today I have a son. Now I am no longer alone…' That's all I was able to read." His tone was almost apologetic, but there was something else there, perhaps hope. Stavros put his glass down. He leaned back slightly, eyes closed. "Today I have a son. Now I am no longer alone. From the moment the midwife put you in my arms this morning I knew that finally there was someone who would always love me and need me for myself, someone I could love and protect without reservation. My son… how I have longed for you, for someone to share this life, this way of being that no outsider can understand. I will show you how to ride… how to rule. I will teach you the hundred small but important things your grandfather taught me, but above all, I will make sure you always know how precious you are to me, and always will be. You have my blood in you, the blood of a hundred generations of Cassadine, but more important, you have my heart. Your loving father." "You remember it that clearly?" The question came out in a near-whisper. "You forget… when I woke from my cryogenic sleep, it was as if I had left you in your crib only a few days ago. It is still quite fresh in my mind." "Why did you leave?" Nikolas asked hoarsely. "To bring your mother home." "She was never going to come back. She hated you." Stavros nodded, very slightly. "I did not care."   "Alexis filed the papers and the divorce should go through without any problems. Lydia left town over a week ago… Has Zander given you any trouble?… Okay, but you'll call me if he… I know, Em. I know. You used to be in love with the guy. Fine. That doesn't give him the right to…" His tone softened as he smiled into the phone. "I love you, too. And yes, I trust you. Completely…. Emily, I have so much to tell you, there's so much going on right now, and I can't wait to tell you…" He saw his uncle and father coming down the hall. "I'll call you tonight. Love you…" He hung up. "I am sorry I will not get to meet Ms. Quartermaine," Stavros said. "Not this time," Stefan said. "I remember her as a delightful child." "She isn't a child anymore, Uncle." He poured brandies for all three of them. "So, where do we stand?" "Your grandmother has not emerged and my… agents have not found any trace of her in Port Charles, which worries me," Stefan said. "She might have left," Nikolas said hopefully. "She would not." He swirled the brandy in his glass, staring into it as if hoping to see the answer. "Actually," Stavros said, "I have an idea as far as Mother is concerned. And it might solve one or two other minor problems at the same time. Such as… what to do with me." "I have some ideas of my own on that score," Stefan said, and Stavros actually chuckled. "You have a plan for dealing with Grandmother?" Nikolas asked his father. "I do not wish to see her dead, for reasons I imagine you can understand, nor would I wish prison on her. But I do acknowledge that she must be dealt with." He looked at the other two men. "This is what I propose… I will leave here and return to Europe. There will be just enough of a trail - aided by the new computer skills Nikolas has taught me - to attract her attention, but I shall not let her catch up to me." He smiled into his brandy glass. "I will be elusive, yet the trace of me will taunt her. She will never quite connect with me and that will make her more and more frustrated. Which, in the end, will make her careless. Since I assume you will be watching me anyway…" He glanced at Stefan, who gave a barely perceptible nod "you will be able to pounce." "Pounce?" Stefan said, something like laughter underneath the word. "It seemed the appropriate word." Nikolas said somberly, "Are you sure that she will make finding you - connecting with you - her first priority? I imagine that she is quite angry with you." "And that will make it more pleasurable to her. The chance to… punish me properly will be quite irresistible." Nikolas said, "It might be more important to her to settle things with Uncle and me." "You do not know your Grandmother as well as you think," Stavros said. "She will want to deal with you, yes. But she will feel she can do that any time. And she will want me at her side." Another smile into the glass. "After appropriate chastisement." "What if she thinks you have gone too far?" Nikolas asked, a note of anxiety in his voice. "What if she isn't so willing to forgive?" Stavros smiled gently at his son, touched by the flash of concern, but it was Stefan who answered. "She will forgive Stavros anything. Oh, she will try and make him suffer - and she has more weapons at her disposal than meet the eye - but in the end she will not be able to resist. She will, indeed, want him at her side." He finished his brandy. "Stavros… your plan is not without merit. It may indeed be the best way to lure Mother into a trap. But you are asking us to allow you free reign in Europe - or wherever else you may wander." "I cannot imagine you want me to stay here in Port Charles. Not to mention the virtual certainty that I would be arrested myself." He arched a brow at his brother. "That was not part of our arrangement." "You would, I think, need to give up any claim to the Estate, perhaps the Cassadine name itself. And before you tell me that this was not part of our arrangement either, I should like to point out that we have been improvising, to some extent, since we arrived here, and we now must look at the longer view." Stavros fingered the Cassadine medallion around his neck. "What an interesting time you pick to impose new conditions." "Don't think of it as a condition, Father," Nikolas interjected. "It may turn out to be for your own protection. You fear arrest and incarceration. A new identity could insure your freedom." He smiled, and it was rather like one of Stavros's dry little smiles. "If you were completely honest, I think you rather enjoyed the freedom of being Lucien Caine." "It had its moments," Stavros admitted. "And nothing can change the blood that flows in you," Nikolas continued. Father and son looked at each other quietly for several moments, then turned their attention back to their brandies. Stefan wondered, at that moment, if he had been altogether wise in accepting Stavros's help those weeks ago. And yet… what choice had he had? It had been the only way home to Nikolas. "This will take some thought," Nikolas said. "Careful planning. To underestimate Grandmother is to invite disaster." "To say the least," Stefan said. "Now, you see, I believe in improvisation. To defeat Mother, one must be quicksilver… ephemeral. I will dangle myself just out of reach." He smiled. "It will drive her mad." "It does make sense," Stefan admitted, though he preferred careful planning under good circumstances, let alone those dealing with Helena. "Of course it does," Stavros said, flashing another smile. "And now… I have preparations to make." He set down his glass and went upstairs. "Obviously, we will have to keep a close watch over him," Stefan said. "Even after we have captured Helena." Nikolas nodded absently. "Nikolas… I asked you to give him a chance… to accept that he might be capable of loving you, of doing the right thing in your name. But to assume that he has changed to the point that he can be set loose on the world…." "I assume nothing, Uncle. You taught me that much." There was a pause. "It was you who ended the Trust, who gave me control of the Estate. You, not an impostor. Now… you must trust me to execute my responsibilities. To the Estate. To this family." Stefan nodded. He had raised the boy, trained him, poured himself into him. "I do, Nikolas. I do…"   When Stavros came down for dinner, Stefan and Nikolas stared at him. "What?" he asked with a laugh. "A new life would indicate a new look, don't you think?" Without the beard, he looked even younger, driving home the irony of his long suspension and the way it had frozen him in time. To Stefan it was a reminder of a time long past, when he and his brother had been able to seize moments of, if not friendship, a sense of possibility. Suddenly, there were possibilities again, though he did not know if he was strong enough to seize them. To Nikolas, it was as if the father he had imagined as a boy was suddenly shot through a time portal for him to glimpse. He knew the image, sharp as it was, would not last, that Stavros was not that mythic figure. But perhaps he had once contained the seeds of that myth, and the fact that he had, as Stefan said, turned towards another path, seemed intensely sad to Nikolas. But all he said was, "Shall we go in to dinner?" It was over dinner that Nikolas outlined his own plan. It was in agreement with Stavros's. They would use him to lure and tantalize Helena, and then move in to deal with her themselves. None present had any faith in law enforcement or other conventional means. "And now… the rest of the matter." "The rest?" Stavros raised an eyebrow. "As in..?" "This is what I propose," Nikolas said, in a tone that conveyed not a proposal but a decree. "You will remain in Europe. I agree that this is best for your own security and safety as well as ours. You will have a more than adequate income, which is the least we can do after your efforts helped restore the Estate to its proper place." Stavros nodded slightly, but there was an ironic cast to his gaze. "When Uncle and I feel it is safe, we will tell Alexis that you are alive, and have her work with us to guarantee your further safety." "She will never do it," Stavros countered. Nikolas said, "I think, with time, I can persuade her. But I will not even speak to her until I am sure. Meanwhile, once Grandmother is dealt with, I will come and see you when possible." The sardonic look faded, replaced by something softer and more hopeful. Nikolas spoke more urgently. "These arrangements are not unconditional." "Indeed?" "Indeed." "And so… these conditions?" "There are three. First of all, you will make no attempt to contact or interfere with my mother. Your marriage, such as it is, is over. Forever." Stavros did not respond. "Secondly, you must swear that there will be no more criminal activity of any kind. No murders, no rapes, no imprisonment of women - " "I did not imprison your mother, I tried to save her…" Nikolas continued as if he hadn't heard him. "Not so much as a petty theft, Father. I mean this. It is inviolable." "Go on," Stavros said softly, though there was steel in his voice. "Finally, I have decreed that the Cassadine/Spencer War is over. You must respect this decision. There will be no interference with Luke Spencer or any of his family." Stavros nodded slightly. "I will leave Spencer and his mongrels alone insofar as they return the favor. I reserve the right to defend myself." Nikolas's nod was only a little more noticeable. "I will know the difference, Father." "I imagine you will." "Understand me clearly. If you adhere to these conditions you may live as you please. You will have sufficient income to do as you wish, to pursue pleasure or to engage in business, as you see fit. You will see me, and some day, if Emily and I are lucky enough to have children, you will know your grandchildren. Break faith with me, however, and I will turn away from you completely. And it will be forever." It was clear from the look in Stavros's eyes that he understood and believed this. "That is all, then? Those are your conditions?" "Well, there is one thing… not a condition. A request. For both of you." Suddenly Nikolas looked boyish again, almost uncertain. "A request?" Another arch of his brow and Stavros glanced at Stefan, wondering about a request that would include them both. "You are my father. I would not exist without you. But Uncle raised me. I do not think I would have survived without him." Stefan looked surprised and touched by the tribute. "What I want… is for the war between you two to end as well." There was a long pause as the two men looked at each other, a long, steady look that encompassed their entire tangled, tormented history. Neither answered, but each independently lifted his wine glass, only a few inches, but at the exact same moment. Nikolas allowed himself a little smile, into his own wine glass.   Less than a week later, they decided it was time. Stefan supervised the arrangements to smuggle Stavros off Spoon Island and out of the country. They agreed that he would start out in Italy and make a circuit around the continent as needed. "Your promise," he whispered in Nikolas's ear as they embraced. "I will keep it," his son assured him. He would explain everything to Emily, Stefan's return, Stavros's continued existence, the way they had all come together to defeat Helena - he hoped - and all the strangeness that was part of being Cassadine. He knew she would understand, she had the biggest heart of anyone he knew. That she was related to the woman Stavros had killed was a complication, but Nikolas believed it was one they could overcome. Maybe they would marry in Europe. Maybe they would have two weddings, one for her family, one for his… He broke the embrace and watched as his father and uncle clasped hands. "Not so worthless, perhaps, after all," Stavros said with a smile. "I never was," Stefan said. "And so we shall see each other as well," "I would not be surprised." "Then again, Stefan, what has ever truly surprised you?" He smirked slightly and said, "Give my best to our little mouse." "That is not the way to get Alexis to help clear your path," Stefan said. "I leave that in your hands," he said, and slipped out to where Stefan's men waited for him in the secret passageway. Nikolas and Stefan stood near the door, listening to the confident footfalls till they died out, and then Nikolas closed off the passage. There was a long pause. Finally, Stefan said, "I should wash up for dinner." Nikolas nodded. As Stefan started out, Nikolas said, "Uncle?" "Yes, Nikolas…" "I'm glad you're home." Stefan nodded and smiled. "It is good to be back."   In a sidewalk café in Florence, Lydia sighed over her guidebook. She was bored with galleries and even more so with churches. One stained glass window was pretty much like any other, in her opinion. Maybe Italy had been a mistake. Maybe she'd go further north. There was a glass of wine in front of her but she hadn't touched it. Damn her grandfather, anyway, and his burning desire to see her wedded and bedded to his old friend's grandson. Damn Helena Cassadine, who she had met in passing years ago and barely remembered, for planting the idea in the old man's ear so long ago. Now Nikolas had his precious Emily, and Lucky was off playing policeman, and anyway it had never been that much between them, she had just hoped, for once, to feel wanted, yearned for… A man came out onto the terrace, dark haired and handsome, not touristy, but she could tell that he was not Italian. He smiled at her and, to her surprise, came to her table. "May I?" he asked, in English, and with an even more charming smile. Why not? "All right." He sat across from her. "You are too lovely to sit alone in a café in a city like this." "Florence isn't bad." "You will get yourself pinched. Or worse." His eyes hinted at what 'worse' might be. "I'm fine," she said. "No one bothers me." Or bothers with me, she felt like adding. My, Nikolas Cassadine had done a number on her confidence, that was certain. "I am quite certain," he said, leaning forward and speaking an a low, confidential tone of voice, "that one of us is being watched, and I do not think it is me." He gestured almost imperceptibly to another table, where two tall, muscular men of almost unbearable delicacy of feature were sitting. Lydia thought she recognized at least one of them from the restaurant where she had dined the night before, but she wasn't sure. "Why would anyone watch me?" "Why would anyone not?" he said gallantly. "We could always elude them. I do not think it would be hard." Lydia could think of a dozen reasons not to fall in with this stranger. Chief among them was that he might himself be monitoring her for some nefarious purpose. If those men were, in fact, watching her, it might be under his orders. Kidnapping, white slavery, robbery and murder… they were all possibilities. But his eyes held other possibilities. And she suddenly decided she wanted to explore them. Plus, there was something oddly familiar about him, as if she'd seen him in a dream or known him in another life. "All right," she said, getting up. "I love a decisive woman." "I'm decisive, all right," she said. "Lydia Karenin Cas - " She stopped herself. The divorce was final, after all. He took her hand and brought it to her lips. "Enchanted." As he led her back into the café by that hand, he said, "And I am Lucien Caine…"