Five Points: Stavros Cassadine   Point One Cassadine Island, 1982 The wedding of the Cassadine heir was a formal and important occasion, subservient only to the Presentation ceremony given the heir shortly after his birth and his eventual Ascension. Stavros Cassadine had, of course, been duly presented thirty-two years ago to the world over which he would reign. Now, more quickly than he could have imagined, he was to marry. "I barely know her," he said as he fastened his cufflinks. "Being the heir has its perils as well as its privileges," Stefan said. His brother - and, under tradition, his best man, though Stavros had friends with whom he was much closer - was leaning against the dressing table. He was already completely dressed; Stefan had an annoying habit of punctiliousness. It isn't as if they will start without me, Stavros thought to himself. "She will serve," he said, finishing the cuffs and examining himself in the mirror. Felicity Barkworth had an unfortunately funny name but there was nothing funny about her family's fortune and connections, and her lineage, while not quite up to the Cassadine, was excellent. She was certainly pretty, and gave every indication of being malleable. "You will not abuse her too strenuously, will you, Stavros? She seems nice enough." "Nice," he said with a disbelieving little laugh, as if that had anything to do with anything, and then he said, "No, no, I'm quite fond of Felicity. She will make a good wife." He stroked his beard slightly with his index finger. "Really, Stavros, you are as diabolically handsome as ever," Stefan said. "If you have no need of me, I will see how Alexis is doing…" "When have I ever had need of you?" he said, but there wasn't much sting in it. He was reasonably content today. "Go play with the little mouse…" Though he had to admit, their 'country cousin' was beginning to blossom a bit. After Stefan left, Stavros gave himself one more check in the mirror, smiling at the reflection, a wolfish flash of teeth that revealed his pleased anticipation of the night to come. He had sent, by servant, a rope of black Baltic pearls to Felicity that morning as a wedding present. She would wear them tonight, in bed; he would… encourage it. There was a knock on the door and before he could say 'come in,' someone did. Mother, he thought, but it was his father. "Everything is ready. I have just left your mother at the chapel…" "Do you really think that was a good idea, Father?" he asked with a smile. "I doubt the walls will cave in," Mikkos said. "Or if they do, it will be as likely be one of the men of the family." He looked distinguished, as always. Helena had mentioned, in Stavros's hearing, that her older son was both taller and handsomer than her husband, but "he definitely has his father's distinction and bearing, which are all one could want in a Prince." Indeed, Stavros thought, looking at his father now, Mikkos Cassadine, who had been teaching and training him since he could remember, was still the model of what a man could be when his vision and brilliance reached across the old world from which they came towards the new one they wished to shape. "I wanted to talk to you, son." Stavros smirked and said, "If it is the facts of life, Father, you took care of that splendidly when you took me to that brothel for my sixteenth birthday." Mikkos smiled and said, "I am not altogether convinced that you needed even that much help… No, it is not that." "Is it about Felicity? I assure you, Father, that I understand the importance of the alliance between the two families… and I am rather fond of her. She will be a good wife." "I have no doubt of that." He smiled again, almost to himself. "Marriage is a strange thing, Stavros. No one really understands one except for the two people living it. Take your mother and I…" Must I? Stavros thought, but said nothing. "Helena and I, on occasion, have our differences. We have our… separate interests. But she is my wife, and an excellent one. I could not have asked for a better consort, or a better partner for the life I have mapped out for this family." "So we are having this conversation," Stavros said wryly. "No, really, that is not why I came in here… It is about what will happen after you return from your wedding trip." Stavros was taking Felicity to an island off the coast of Spain for two weeks. "I am afraid I am going to be placing more and more responsibility for the day to day management of the Estate in your hands." "Father, are you ill?" he asked with alarm. This, combined with the push to marry, might indeed indicate that Mikkos was trying to get all family affairs in order. Mikkos shook his head. "Actually, I have never been better. No… it is about the Ice Princess project." "Your little snow blower?" Stavros said with a dry laugh. "Yes, indeed," Mikkos said, smiling more broadly. "Then the clinical trials have been successful?" "More successful than our wildest dreams. The carbolic snow turns out to have surgical and medical applications with profound implications." Stavros found his father's scientific experiments rather boring, but he was able to say, with sincerity, "I am happy for you. And now - ?" "Now I will be spending a great deal of time traveling, discussing the techniques we've developed with hospitals and research facilities. Which means you will have greater responsibilities within the Estate. Your Uncle Victor will be working closely with me, but you will still have your Uncle Tony to help you. And this will not be without its rewards for you…" Certainly not, Stavros thought with satisfaction. He would gradually become Prince in all but name, and the day of his Ascension would only crown what would have been a reality for the family and those who dealt with them. His father would still be available to him, for advice and consulting… but he would be more and more absorbed with his world of discovery and invention. And those processes so dear to Mikkos's heart would add to the luster of the Cassadine name, and the power and influence that would someday be his, and his alone. "I could not be happier," he assured his father. "And today of all days… it is like a wedding present, Father. Only it is for all of us, not just me." Mikkos smiled and clasped his son on the shoulder. "Indeed it is, Stavros. This work will outlive me, and help you and the next generations of Cassadine Princes. And speaking of that next generation, we'd best get down to the chapel and get you properly married so that you and Felicity can start working on it." Stavros laughed and left the room arm in arm with his father…     Point Two Cassadine Island, 1983 Laura ran around the nursery frantically, throwing Nikolas's things haphazardly into a bag. Take only what he really needs, she told herself. She only had a few minutes. Stavros and Helena were still closeted in the study. She had a convincing story ready for the launch captain, but she would need to be calm enough to deliver it in a casual manner. "Oh, the Prince, in view of the recent events, thought it might be a good idea if I took Nikolas into Athens for a day of…" Of what? If anything, the Cassadines would stick even closer to the Island now. Nikolas would be 'protected' and she would be… what? Would she even be alive? Stavros 'loved' her; his love, this marriage, was supposed to be her protection. Instead, it had been a nightmare. And now, not only had one of her few consolations been taken from her, but the full price of being loved by Stavros Cassadine had just been dramatically shown to her… Stavros emerged from the study. A servant skittered away from his path, but he had not even seen her. Nor did he see the decanter of brandy on the sideboard, the one that had been refilled not ten minutes ago, the one he had drained just before he had gone into the music room and seen… Perhaps he would never drink again. Or perhaps he would drink himself into oblivion and never look back. He knew which option his mother would prefer. And he knew that he owed her something now. And there was Nikolas to consider… he would see his son grow up. His son… He went upstairs and into the nursery. "Laura. What do you think you are doing?" "I… I wanted to take Nikolas into Athens," she said. "An outing?" he asked with sardonic pleasure. "Perhaps an expedition to buy a new layette? Or some sightseeing?" He stepped forward, cornering her with every movement, and reached for the bag in her hand. "I think not." Laura kept hold of the bag. He tugged at it, and the strap began to tear. "Stavros!" "Laura!" he mocked, then his tone turned serious. "Do you not understand? After what has happened, you will never leave this Island again!" "It isn't as if you ever gave me much freedom to begin with," she said. "I gave you more than… I saved you, Laura!" "For yourself!" she screamed, which set Nikolas to wailing. She started towards him, dropping the bag, but Stavros got to the bassinet first. He picked up the crying baby with a tenderness that Laura found almost more frightening than his brutality towards everyone else. He soothed Nikolas and, when the child stopped crying, set him back gently, arranging the covers. Taking Laura by the arm, he took her from the nursery. "We shall not speak of today again. You will be a good wife to me at last." "What?" She stared at him in disbelief. "You have no friends now but me. No one on this Island will help you. From this day forward, what happens to you will be directly in proportion to how you treat me, your husband." "Stavros, I - " "Silence!" He pressed her up against the wall. She could still smell the wine on his breath, he had been reeking of it when he came into the music room. But she could tell that he was no longer drunk. "You will treat me kindly now. You will accept me into your bed and if we struggle, it will be as married people sometimes do… you will give me more children." She opened her mouth to speak again, but something stopped her. It was not the wildness in his words, the threat in his tone. It was something else. His eyes… they were a mixture of fury and something she had never seen before. Grief. She closed her mouth again. She did not nod or indicate her agreement, but she did not strike a pose of defiance either. He was right. She was alone now. She had lost the only friend she had on the Island. She had no other option now. He let go of her. "You may go to Nikolas. I have… things to do. I will see you at dinner tonight. Wear the blue dress I bought you. And the sapphires." He returned to the study. Sounds kept echoing in his head. A crash. Crunching sounds, body blows. A scream like none before it. Then… the worst of it. The silence. Helena came up to him. "My darling…" "Mother, please, I am not in the mood." "I only wanted to tell you that it is done. It is dealt with." "I do not wish to see… the final disposition." "No, of course not," she purred. "I was supposed to go to Venice on Friday. Now… I do not wish to." "But the Amalfi takeover - ?" "You will go." "Of course," she said, trying not to look too pleased. "And perhaps after that you would like to go to Paris? Some shopping?" "I wasn't thinking of that, but…" "I think it would be best. Laura and I will require some time alone." "Of course, Stavros. Whatever you like." "A week or two…" He stared at the wine sitting on his desk, then looked away. After a moment he said, "You were going to let her go." "What?" Helena put her hand to her throat. "You think I do not know you? You never wanted me to marry her." "Stavros, I admit I never thought her an appropriate consort, but…" "Enough!" He raised a hand to silence her. "I was not sure. Now I am. But it does not matter. Laura and I are bound together by something stronger than our vows, stronger than my love for her, stronger, even, than Nikolas." Helena nodded, understanding. "She must never leave this Island now. She is too great a threat." "You may wish to tell her that. And of your plan. Let her know that she might have escaped me - temporarily." Though he knew he would have gone after her, would have pursued her to the ends of the earth. "And that her own faithlessness… closed that door forever." "Stavros… you only did what you had to do." "Leave me, Mother." He was mildly surprised when she did so, without another word. He then took, from his pocket, the scrap of paper he had torn out of Laura's hand not more than an hour earlier. One word. Lasha. He would keep it. He would use it to bind her to him, to bend her to his will, to force her to become the wife she should have been freely. It would steel his resolve, remind him of her own guilt. Her complicity in his crime. They would never speak of it again. But they would never forget…     Point Three Cassadine Island, 1990 "Father!" Nikolas was running at breakneck speed from the stables as Stavros got out of the car. Stavros smiled and picked up his son, although at eight he was perhaps getting too big for it. "I am sorry I missed today's ride," he said. "The meeting in Athens lasted a little longer than we expected." "That's all right," Nikolas said. He looped his arms around his father's neck. "When I'm Prince, will I go to meetings?" "Yes," Stavros assured him. "Many, many meetings. You will get quite sick of them." "Are you sick of them?" "Utterly sick." "Then why do you go? You always tell me that the Prince can do whatever he wants…" Stavros threw back his head and laughed. "That's right, I do tell you that. And for the most part, it is true. But the meetings help maintain the power that allows us to do whatever we want." Nikolas nodded solemnly, as if he understood completely. And for all Stavros knew, he might. The boy was very bright, and eager. He hung on his father's every word, and plagued his tutors with all sorts of questions. It was traditional to send the Cassadine heir to the finest continental schools but Stavros knew he would be hesitant when the day came. He would miss Nikolas fiercely - the boy was all he had. He put Nikolas down and they walked towards the main house. "Perhaps we could have a swim after dinner tonight," he offered, and Nikolas nodded enthusiastically. "And there is your grandmother to greet us," he said, as Helena came out of the house. Helena smiled at her grandson before drawing her favorite son into a close embrace. "How did it go?" "Fairly well. Boring, but… we'll get our way." "Of course we will," she said, looping her arm through his as they went into the house. "Nikolas, wash up for dinner. It is almost ready." "Yes, Grandmother…" He ran upstairs. Stavros watched him go. "I have been thinking… the boy needs a mother." "Stavros, he is fine," Helena said, a little sharply. Stavros chuckled. It was exactly the response he knew he would get. In fact, Stavros rarely thought of remarriage. He had mistresses stashed in various European cities and there seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of appropriate young ladies for the more formal occasions. He had his heir, so the need for a wife to provide children was… not pressing. Though he sometimes thought he should like more children. And Nikolas might do well with a brother or, better still, a sister. Brothers were… unpredictable equations. He enjoyed teasing Helena with the possibility of a new wife - it so clearly horrified her - but in his heart he knew it would take a remarkable woman, one who combined beauty and spirit to such a degree as to take his breath away. And that had only happened once. Since she had left, he had not dared to allow it - to hope for it - again. Nearly eight years later he still remembered the pain and anger he had felt that day. How it had flooded him in a fiery red bath of emotion that still overwhelmed him from time to time when something reminded him of Laura. The only thing that had soothed his angry spirit had been when his mother placed Nikolas in his arms, reminding him that he had a son who needed him - who, indeed, he needed in turn. It was that reminder, that turning, that had saved Helena herself from his wrath, for he knew all too well why he no longer had a wife. He had suspected Stefan of complicity, though the idea of Helena conspiring with her younger son to any purpose was laughable, but no, Stefan was heartbroken and listless, though he had tried to conceal it. Stavros had all but banished him from the Island, though he kept a close watch on his brother. Stefan had married some placid bookworm of an heiress last year and the reins had relaxed a little. He would start having children of his own soon and his odd, but understandable, interest in Nikolas would ebb. "What were you and Uncle Stefan talking about this afternoon?" "He sends me books. Some of them are interesting" Stavros had begun inspecting Nikolas's packages after that conversation, but Stefan never sent anything objectionable and he let it rest. There was no doubt, after all, that Nikolas knew whose son he was… As if reading his mind - a habit Stavros found more irritating than gratifying - Helena said, "Nikolas is the spitting image of you." "Yes, Mother, he is already quite handsome. I wonder if he will give me the same headaches I gave Father with the servant girls." Helena smiled. "Mikkos did not mind. He knew you were a manly little boy and he was proud of you." "Time goes so quickly. He is growing up already," he mused. "Perhaps it is time to consider giving him brothers and sisters…" He smiled secretly, to himself, at Helena's barely concealed alarm. "I am going to wash up myself, Mother. We will see you at dinner." Try not to choke on it, he thought, but did not say. Upstairs he washed and changed his shirt. On his way back downstairs he saw Nikolas kneeling on the window seat of the outer room to the boy's suite of rooms. He was gazing out the window with an air of resignation, as if a previous expectation had been unmet for so long that, by sitting there, all he was doing was reminding himself of that failure. "Nikolas?" "Yes, Father?" He turned slightly to face Stavros. "What is it?" "What do you mean?" "What is troubling you?" He went over and sat with his son. "Nothing." He tipped up the boy's face to look directly into his own. "You forget. I know you too well. The truth, Nikolas. You will not be punished." "I was - I was just thinking about Mother." "I see…" "Do you think she ever thinks about me?" "I imagine she does, yes." He put an arm around his son's shoulders. "Why doesn't she ever write me or come to see me?" "I do not know. But you must understand… I would never stop her from seeing you." And it was the truth. If Laura ever set foot on the Island again, Stavros would move heaven and earth to reunite his family permanently. "What was wrong with me?" "Wrong with you? Nothing!" "Then why doesn't she - ?" His voice broke off. He looked and sounded dangerously close to a sob. "Love you? In her own way I am sure she does. It is just… she did not love either of us enough." "Some day she'll come to see me, maybe when I'm the Prince and I have all the power and she will want to know me, and I will laugh in her face." "If that is what you want to do, my son…" He hugged Nikolas to him and if tears stained his fresh shirt he took no note of them. "And now… I am sure that there is a wonderful dinner waiting for us downstairs. And after dinner we will go swimming, and perhaps we will find, on the shores of the Aegean, a pearl beyond price…" Nikolas laughed a little, and let his father help him stand up, and they went downstairs for dinner…     Point Four Port Charles, 2001 Stavros put away the photographs and stood up, looking around at the bare walls and industrial décor. What a ridiculous place this was, really. To think he had spent eighteen years of his… well, life was not entirely accurate. "You evil bastard. I hate you for torturing my mother…I will never let you come back to life." The words burned in his ears. His own son hated him. Mother was worse than useless with her talk of brainwashing. But then, she had been an erratic ally at best since that night at Wyndemere when he had… 'failed' to kill Stefan. Her obsession with Stefan's death was as absurd as it was irritating. Stefan was as effectively neutralized as if he were dead and he was much more fun this way. Though, the way Stavros was feeling now he wondered if even tormenting his useless younger brother could give him any pleasure. Nikolas hated him. Nikolas hated him. What was the point of this second life if his own son, who he loved unreservedly, with all his heart, detested him with equal commitment? For the first time he realized how difficult it would be to reunite his family, to claim both son and wife for his own. Difficult? He laughed humorlessly as he went down the corridor towards the room where he kept his favorite prisoner. Try impossible. Mother's scientific mumbo jumbo might have brought about his own resuscitation, but it could not change hearts. It could produce a twisted mimicry of same, but… no. And speaking of twisted… He entered the prison chamber he had ordered kept as comfortable as possible to discover that his mother had been seized with a similar impulse to visit. However, unlike himself, Helena had come armed, and was advancing on their guest, who was being held by two of the blank-faced young men Helena employed as bodyguards, minions and… well, other activities that probably went a long way in Stavros's mind to explain why they were blank-faced. "Mother, drop it," he said in a tone as sharp as the syringe in her hand. She turned, arm still raised. "Stavros…" "Mother." "It's for your own good." He rolled his eyes. "Drop it," he said. "And if I ever find you in here again…" "Really, Stavros." She was mortally offended. "After all, had I not been here in the first place, you would not be here." "Yes, Mother," he said sardonically. "You brought me back from the dead and I am grateful. We have covered that. But having done so, you persistently refuse to face the very reality you created. I am back. I am in charge." "Stavros, I know you are upset about Nikolas. But that is no reason to jeopardize everything we have worked for, the wonders that are within our grasp…" "Within your grasp, Mother. I have no objection to your little hobbies, but I have told you before, world domination doesn't really interest me." He sighed. "At the moment, there is nothing that really interests me." "But with the whole world at your feet - " "The only world I wanted was with Nikolas and Laura. You never really understood that." "You will have your son, Stavros. I promise you that." "That is a promise you cannot keep." His eyes were bleak. He turned to one of the minions. "Escort my mother back to her suite. She is not to return here without my authorization." "Stavros, you cannot - " "On the contrary, Mother. I can." After the men in black escorted his mother out - with Helena protesting the entire way - he turned towards his prisoner and said, "I should have killed you. It would have been easier. But I… couldn't." Chloe Morgan's eyes, which had seemed wider throughout the previous encounter, now met his steadily. "Why not?" she asked. He shrugged. "I like you. I suppose…" "Your mother said that you were supposed to kill Stefan that day at Wyndemere. That doesn't surprise me. But you didn't. You didn't kill either of us." "I never wanted to kill Stefan. He can no longer amuse me from the grave. And I have planted enough false leads over these last two months that he can bumble around indefinitely trying to find you. That neutralizes his threat as effectively as his death would have done, and is far more diverting." "I think it's more than that. I think, whatever evil is in you isn't really enough to allow you to kill your own brother." He laughed. "You love him, so you think the evil is all in me. But he stole my wife, poisoned her mind against me, and then raised my son… the son who hates me." Chloe knew of many other wrongs Stefan had committed, some of them against her, but that was not the point. "He strikes at you, you strike at him… and when does it end?" "When we are both truly dead, I suppose." "I can see that you are in pain," she said, and her hand touched his arm gently. He pulled away as if her touch burned. His eyes were blazing. "I do not want your pity." "Stavros, I'm only saying that there is potential in you for - " "You pity me and love my brother!" She shrank back and it both pleased and frustrated him. "You love him. Laura loved him. Nikolas… loves him!" He moved closer to her. "Why is that?" "I - I don't know." "You must. You were with him." He stood so close that she could count the scattering of grey hairs in his beard. "I tire of this. Mother's conspiracies, this ridiculous town… I will leave. Why should I not? I have my life, why not live it?" "That… is a good idea," Chloe said, her breath coming in catches. "Come with me," he said, a smile unexpectedly lighting up his face. Suddenly he was boyish and quite handsome. She shook her head. "I don't think you even know what you - " "It is perfect. He took everything I loved… I will take the woman he loves… make her mine… and you will teach me how to be a better person. This potential you say you see in me." "Yes, you have some potential. You turned away from what you yourself said was the easiest answer. But… What is it with you Cassadine men anyway? Why do you need a woman to 'make you a better person'? Why can't you do it yourselves like normal people?" He laughed at her frustration. "We are not normal. We have never been normal." "I told Stefan I was not his conscience and I am certainly not yours. Do what you have to do, Stavros, but don't lay it on me." "You would rather waste away in this underground prison than go to Europe with me?" He looked bewildered and a little hurt. "I don't want to be anyone's moral compass." "I am inviting you to tour the playgrounds of the world with me. Let Mother try and take over the earth, for all the satisfaction it will give her. Let them all wage war on each other… I no longer care." He smiled at her. "Come, Chloe… I am not entirely a monster. I see in your eyes that you know that.." "There's a big difference between… that, and wanting to be with you." "I am not so unattractive as that," he said, in the tone of a man who knew how attractive he was - and yet there was an undercurrent there of puzzlement, as if that image had received a few chips recently. "It's not that, it's just…" She grasped at another straw, a different thread in the tapestry of his nature. "What about Nikolas? Are you just going to give up?" "Hardly. He is my son and I will have him by my side. But…" His hesitation, the uncertainty and vulnerability it revealed, made him seem, for the moment, like a different person. "Perhaps it would be best for us if I took some time to revive." His brow arched slightly on the last word, placing something like quotation marks around it. "A chance to refresh myself, to gain a new perspective." He gazed at her with an almost gentle hunger. "Come with me, Chloe… You will have diamonds and silks. We will take Monte Carlo and the Riviera by storm…" "Is this a traditional Cassadine courtship?" she asked. "Deceit, kidnapping and imprisonment, followed by offers of glamour and preferment?" "I did not abduct Laura," he said shortly. "That was my mother. I tried to help her." "I wasn't just talking about you," she said. "You're not the center of the world, Stavros, even though you were raised to think you were." For a moment she was afraid. A moment where a shadow crossed his eyes and she thought he might strike her or even complete what his mother had tried to accomplish. But instead he threw his head back and laughed. "I have always liked you, Chloe, but never more than at this moment." "If you really… like me that much - " "Now, now, do not press my good nature. Let you go? So that you might find Stefan and warn him? I have little interest in my mother's projects but I am hardly ready for my brother to destroy everything and ruin my homecoming… No, the more I think about it, the more I think it comes down to two choices. You run away with me… or you stay here indefinitely." "Stavros, I can't go away with you." He smiled again, a deep, driven smile, before leaning forward to kiss her, his mouth pressing against hers, tongue pushing to press open her lips. She did not want him - how could she? - and she took no romantic pleasure from the kiss. But at a deeper level, she felt - understood - the desperation that drove him, the sadness that was consuming him. At that level, she responded to his touch, and almost hated herself for that weakness. Then, suddenly, he pulled back. "But in the end… I think you will, Chloe. I really think you will." He laughed then, but his laugh was quiet, almost private, as he walked out, and down the long corridor…     Point Five 2003 - An island in the Western Caribbean The man they called Lucien Caine - actually, always 'Mr. Caine' or 'Sir', but never by his first name and certainly never 'Your Highness', no, never that, the orders were strict - spent a great deal of time on the beach, either swimming, riding or doing some sort of martial arts workout. He did these things under the watchful eyes of his guards, who passed for servants, and indeed provided efficiently and respectfully for all his needs. The island was small enough to insure that security could maintain a close watch over it all, the compound and the house within it hardly up to the standards of the great estate over which he had briefly reigned. But to a man who had spent eighteen years in a small box and several months trying to elude the confinements of an underground lab and a suffocating mother, it was freedom indeed. The house had all the modern conveniences, including a large entertainment center, and a spacious kitchen where a cook whipped up amazing specialties on a regular basis. The servants were all male, but once a week the boat that supplied the island brought a young woman who stayed for the two hours it took for everything to be unloaded and checked in. While it was not always the same woman it was not necessarily a different one each time either. He had no telephone or computer, though the guards could contact the mainland in case of an emergency, but he did receive an extensive summary of major international newspapers each week with the other supplies. This was how he knew that his mother had finally escaped police custody. He had thought something must have happened; his security had increased and there was an additional, almost electric sense of wariness in the atmosphere. While it was highly unlikely that she could contact him - how would she know where he was? - he understood that those in whose custody he rested would be careful to the point of paranoia. He was happy for her. She had been more faithful to him than he had expected, possibly more than he had deserved. After all, a denunciation during her arrest or incarceration would have destroyed the careful negotiations that had been navigated during the confrontation she had so presciently named "Endgame". And when Gia had introduced him to her brother as Lucien Caine, her 'friend' who had been ' really helpful' to her and Nikolas in Helena Cassadine's underground lab, he had seen a look cross his mother's eyes that had given him pause. But she had said nothing. Perhaps that hard, shriveled thing that passed for a heart in her breast was indeed capable of a form of love, and perhaps the few drops of it that squeezed out were, indeed, for himself and Nikolas, and not just as a path to power. Or perhaps it was only her confidence that she would be able to escape the custody of the notoriously incompetent Port Charles police. As, indeed, she had. No doubt she was trying to find him. He had learned a long time ago not to bet against Helena's indomitable will, and indeed his continued existence proved the point. But in this case he did not think she would succeed. His complete and permanent isolation had been one of the intractable conditions of the agreement that had brought him to this place. He put down the newspaper, nearly a week out of date, and wandered back down to the beach. It was not the Aegean, it did not have the air of antiquity, but the water was clear and blue, and hospitable to him when he wanted to swim, or merely to walk along the shore. Filling the days was something of a problem. Although well-educated and not averse to a good book, he could not lose himself endlessly in literature as Stefan could. There had been some talk recently of horses. This would not only give him something else to do, but there would be more comings and goings of workmen and supplies, which also meant that his weekly… diversion might come more often, or stay longer. There was another reason to hope for a stable. He had received one personal visit in the last two years and if they were considering giving him horses… perhaps not only for his use? There might be an implicit promise of another visit. Although he had only just come outside he found himself turning around and returning to the house. In the small room that was decorated and furnished as a study - though he had no business to occupy him - he took down the photo album he kept nestled among the books that came periodically from the mainland. Sitting in the big leather armchair he pored over the pictures. There were old pictures, the photos of himself and Nikolas as a baby, of Nikolas growing up and into his fine young manhood. And the newer photos, that had come in small clusters over the last two years. Nikolas and Gia's engagement portrait, showing the young couple smiling more at each other than the photographer, their smiles sparkling more than the antique ring on Gia's finger… wedding pictures, and if his heart froze slightly at the sight of Stefan at Nik's side, it was a price he was willing to pay… their kiss at the altar, their first waltz, Gia throwing the bouquet and seeing it caught by Elizabeth Webber, who would undoubtedly marry Spencer's mongrel spawn… more photos of the newlyweds dancing, eating cake… on their honeymoon in a villa in the French countryside… riding together… then photos of a tiny beauty who made Stavros's heart stop in a different way. Daria Campbell Cassadine… not a traditional name, no, and again, it honored Stefan, but… he could see himself in his granddaughter, could see his own dark eyes and hungry smile as she transformed on the page from infant to toddler. And there would be more children. A son for Nikolas, an heir for the family… and he would be named Mikkos or Mikhail, and then Stavros, after his grandfather, and then the patronym, Nikolaivich… In the end, Nikolas would not be able to hold out against centuries of tradition, of blood… He closed the album. It was not the photographs, really, that gave him hope, although they certainly expanded its place in his heart. It wasn't the personal items that arrived with the supplies, the books and compact discs and paintings that were outside the scope of the contract that had been hammered out. It was the way Nikolas had spoken that day, the way he had persuaded his uncle to overcome his own hatred, or at least put it aside, to do this one impossible thing. And Stefan had done it, for Nikolas. And they had all, even Alexis, even the mouse, prevailed upon Luke Spencer, who had agreed with ill will and the most stringent of conditions. But Nikolas had fought for him. Not out of love, but out of a sense of fairness he had never seen - or valued - in any Cassadine. But could love emerge from such a need for justice? Over the last two years of solitude, Stavros had begun to think it might. There would be horses. And one day Nikolas would come. Perhaps he would bring Gia, perhaps his children. Stavros would hold them as he had once, so long ago - and yet, it seemed so close, so recent - held his own son. And they would ride together down the long expanse of beach, and they would talk. Father and son, at last.   The Five Points:   1. Mikkos never went mad and never tried to 'freeze the world'. 2. Stavros found Stefan and Laura together and, in a drunken, jealous rage, killed Stefan 3. Stavros did not pursue Laura when she fled the Island. 4. Stavros did not kill Chloe Morgan. 5. Stavros agreed when Nikolas asked him to go against Helena and end the 'Endgame'.