Desire nothing. Chafe not at fate, or Nature’s changeless laws. But struggle only with the personal, the transitory, the evanescent and the perishable.
-Helena Petrovna Hahn Blavatsky
Another night.
Another night with the hiding moon and the shining stars.
Another night with Levka watching over his son.
Another night with Maksim doing the same with Morgan.
Another night of sharing the bed.
Another night of staring into darkness and being filled with uncertainties and fears.
And then, another day. And another and another.
Waking to find Michael hogging the bed once more, his hair spiked in different directions, one hand clutched onto AJ’s and the other resting against Rosie’s golden mane. She’d been a new addition to the sleeping routine which co-insided with the daily adventures. Rosie and Michael seemed to be together all the time. Rosie would play with him during the day or rest at his feet while he watched TV. Watching him, protecting him and faithfully heeding his call. The family doted on the new friendship, even Edward could not resist the charm of the retriever and her new best friend when they’d clumped into the living room caked in mud one drizzly afternoon and proceeded to raid the dining cabinet for the large serving spoons reserved for special family dinners. Edward had blustered his outrage and Michael had steamrolled on, chattering impatiently about rescuing bugs when the dam he’d been creating by the stream had broken. Edward had looked to Levka for explanation, but as usual, was rewarded with casual indifference.
“Papa Edward! Come see the dam me and Rosie made!” Michael had squeaked as he rushed back out the door, serving spoons in hand. Rosie had barked a few times in clear agreement and rushed after him. From a hidden distance, AJ had watched his Grandfather beam with obvious pride at the name Michael had bestowed him with and followed the impish boy out the door, yelling at Reginald to bring coats and umbrellas.
Those were good days.
Some days Michael would gaze out the windows, as though he were searching for a face, waiting for what he was looking for to materialize. Sensing his sadness, Rosie would place her head on his knee and stay by his side. AJ would too. Sometimes Michael would softly talk about his Mother, a memory he’d suddenly remembered. Sometimes he would simply tilt his small head, scratch Rosie’s ears and let out a sigh as he looked into the distance. Sometimes he would climb into Gia’s lap and ask for a story about his Mother. Although Gia hadn’t known Carly well or had even thought fondly of her, she would swallow the initial uncertainty and pick out a small moment she’d remembered and weave a tale that seemed to quell his sadness ever so slightly. Occasionally it would be Alan or Ned or Skye who received a similar visit and each would look into his soulful brown orbs, unable to resist. The entire family was ready, willing and able, to speak about Carly in a warm manner. It was the least they could do.
But Bobbie told the best stories, and he saved his saddest days for her.
She had moved back to the Brownstone with Lucas, but visited almost everyday. He visited the Browstone too and there was a ritual that was now in place. Michael would choose a picture, take the frame in his hand and they would snuggle together and talk about Carly. Lucas joined in at times.
Michael loved stories about Carly.
“There are so many stories about Mommy,” he’d told AJ one night.
“You’re right about that.”
“Could we write them down, in case I forget? I don’t think I will, but I might. Nana Lila said writing is a lost art.”
AJ placed his steaming cup of coffee down and nodded, “sure, I don’t see why not.”
Michael grinned back with his chocolate milk mustache, “Morgan is just a baby, he needs stories about Mommy and I’m his big brother so I should tell him stories right?” It made perfect sense to him.
“Yeah,” AJ said slowly, “I think Morgan would like that. It’s a good idea.” He paused, hedging on the subject that Michael almost never spoke about.
“What about Daddy?”
Michael’s face fell slightly and uncertainty clouded his expression. He had not yet been able to discuss the events of the night Sonny and Carly had died. Gail had been working with him for some time now, but had let AJ and Bobbie know that it might be years before Michael could freely discuss the trauma surrounding that night and his unwillingness to talk about Sonny.
Michael pushed his glass away as he considered AJ’s question. “He made good food,” he finally said, as if having run through a list in his mind of all the things he remembered about Sonny and carefully selected the best one. “Sometimes he would sing funny like the opera ladies when he made spaghetti. He let me watch and told me he would teach me to make it one day.”
AJ gazed thoughtfully at Michael. “Do you think Morgan would like to hear about that?” Gently, he probed for more information.
Michael bit his lower lip. “Maybe. What if he wants 2 stories?”
“Can you think of another story?”
Michael thought for a moment and his eyes filled with sudden tears. “I don’t know,” he whispered in a panic. “I think I forgot most of them.”
“Hey, hey,” AJ soothed as he scooped Michael into his lap. Rosie whined her concern and nudged her nose against Michael’s knee. “It’s okay if you don’t remember.”
“What if I don’t EVER remember again? I remember the bad stuff, but I forget the good stuff.”
AJ stilled at the mention of bad stuff. “Bad stuff?”
“I think I made him mad. Mommy made him mad and so did I. He yelled when he got mad and sometimes he’d throw things and they’d break and Mommy would be so scared and I would be scared too.” The words came out like confession, as though he’d been holding in the information with a guilty conscience.
AJ hugged his son tightly, biting back the agony of his failures and Michael’s pain. “I don’t believe Daddy was mad at you or Mommy. I think Daddy just had a hard time telling people how he felt and it came out in other ways.”
“Maybe. But I can’t tell Morgan his Daddy was mad and yelled all the time.”
“His Daddy?”
Michael turned to face AJ. “Yes,” he replied with absolute certainty. “You are my Daddy and you promised me you wouldn’t take me from my home.”
Michael held AJ’s startled gaze and the sad, brown eyes that connected them, that connected Carly and Morgan and Bobbie and everyone else held strong. “Yes, I am and yes, I did.”
Michael nodded, reassuringly and reassured himself. “I won’t tell Morgan too much right now. Maybe when he’s older,” he decided sagely, as AJ nodded, sensing his son’s need for his decision to be taken seriously.
He slid off AJ’s lap and Rosie stood, wagging her tail hopefully. She cast her gaze to the outside but Michael shook his head. “Sorry, Rosie. Levka the Lion wouldn’t like you going out in the dark. He protects us, remember?”
He looked up to AJ. “Can we check if the moon is hiding yet?”
“Sure. Put your glass in the dishwasher. You know Cook doesn’t like dirty dishes left in the sink.”
Michael complied and finished off his chocolate milk with a loud smack. Rosie scanned the ground for invisible crumbs and AJ clicked off the kitchen light. As they headed through the house and up the staircase, Levka trailed behind them, silent as always. Michael took AJ’s hand.
“Can we show Morgan the moon tonight? Grandma showed me Gemini in the stars and I want to show Morgan too.”
“You bet.”
“I’m a good big brother, right Levka?”
“Yes, Mikhail, and you always will.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
“I’m ready.”
Stefan looked up from his reading at Bobbie’s words. He knew exactly what she was referring to. “When is a suitable time?”
“Now.”
Stefan’s gaze flicked to the clock. Just after midnight. Lucas was at Tony’s tonight.
“Is it far?” she asked, unmoving from her place on the sofa.
“30 minutes.”
She nodded. “Let’s go.”
Stefan grabbed his cell phone and dialed. Preparations were in order.
*~*~*~*~*~*
“How long do we have to stay?”
Lorenzo moved from the window to where Sage sat. “I’m not sure. It depends.”
Sage heaved a sigh. “I hate it here. Can’t I call Dillon at least?” She sneaked a careful look at her Uncle. “Or Lucas?”
Lorenzo narrowed his gaze. “Lucas Jones? I don’t think so,” he replied coolly. The boy’s genealogy made him wary, not that she needed to know anything about it.
“What, you can drool after his married sister but I can’t even look at him?” She crossed her arms tightly in front of her. Then she remembered. “Oh, Uncle Lorenzo, I’m sorry, that was stupid of me,” she stuttered apologetically.
“It’s alright. I understand your frustration,” he managed as his face creased with pain. Carly was dead and he had to accept that. He could slay evil beings for Sage, but not bring back the woman he’d become enamored with in recent months.
“Will Mr. Cassadine ever let us go?”
Lorenzo considered his cousin’s intentions. Certainly he and Sage had been brought into seclusion for their own protection. Had he not been so overcome with grief, he would have done the same. Had Stefan not acted, he was certain Jason Morgan would have killed him.
Then Sage would be alone.
He cursed himself for being so weak. Loving Carly was one thing. Responding so ineptly to her death was unforgivable. He couldn’t leave Sage to the Cassadines. Not after Kristina’s death and certainly not after Luis’s.
“I feel bad for Michael and Morgan. I mean, Morgan’s a baby, but Michael remembered his parents. It’s so sad for him.” She picked at some cut flowers as they sat in a crystal clear vase. “I don’t remember my Mother too much. My Father was murdered too,” she said, visibly bristling. “He must be so mad about that.”
Lorenzo crossed the room to her and framed her face with his hands. “You know your Father’s death was accidental. You know that. I know you’re angry with Alexis Davis and so am I, but I cannot and will not condemn her for what happened.”
Sage pushed his hands away angrily. “She murdered him! She pushed him off the balcony. She went after him!” she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “She shouldn’t have done that! Didn’t she think that he might have a family? Didn’t she think that he might have a daughter too?!”
“She did know.”
Sage looked ready to heave another tirade on his ears but stopped short at his calm response. “What?” she asked, bewildered.
“Alexis knew about you. She met you once when you were very small. You had been playing on the beach all morning and the nanny tried to get you to come in for lunch and you refused. You whined and pulled and stomped your feet. Alexis went out and said something in your ear and you smiled like she was sharing an important secret. You gave her a shell you’d collected and you went inside with her without a fuss.” Lorenzo smiled fondly at the memory. Luis had been off somewhere, but Lorenzo had been there to witness the manner in which his niece could go from impudence to charmed life in the blink of an eye. Lorenzo had always been there for those moments.
Sage scowled. “God, you act like you’re in love with her,” she bit out.
Lorenzo shook himself out of the memory. “I only met her that one time. She had forgotten about me when I came to Port Charles. She looked at me as though I was a ghost.”
“You should have killed her.”
Lorenzo faced Sage sternly. “You will not speak in that fashion, is that clear?”
Sage’s expression hardened defiantly. “Why not? She killed my Father.”
“He killed her sister.”
Sage sat back, as if struck by Lorenzo’s words. “He wouldn’t.”
Lorenzo nearly considered not telling Sage the truth, but if it would derail her thirst for revenge, he would. “He intended on killing Sonny Corinthos and planted a bomb at one of his warehouses. Sonny wasn’t there but Alexis’s sister was. She died. Alexis had just given birth to her child. The child was deathly ill and in her anger and grief, Alexis went to see your Father to order him to leave her and her child alone. They fought and he died as a result.”
Sage furrowed her brow and a myriad of emotions washed over her. She wasn’t sure what to make of the information. Her urge for vengeance was strong, but with this bit of news, it had weakened measurably. Suddenly, it seemed misplaced.
“Really? He did that?” she asked softly. Lorenzo’s expression calmed and he slowly pulled Sage into his arms. “I’m sorry to have told you that. I know how much you loved your Father.”
Sage wiped away a stray tear. “He wasn’t much of a Father, was he?”
Lorenzo looked down at her. “He loved you very much.”
“Maybe.” She seemed uncertain. “Is it terrible for me to say that he didn’t really like me? That I think I made him mad? He always seemed…bothered that I kept being difficult. I mean, the only time he came to see me was when I was bad at school. He never came to visit for any other reason. I was so happy to see him and he was so mad that I hadn’t been behaving.”
“He only wanted the best for you.”
Sage didn’t appear convinced. “As long as he didn’t have to be a part of it.” She suddenly sat on a nearby ottoman. “Didn’t he want to spend time with me? When I would come home for the holidays, didn’t he miss me? Didn’t he look at me and notice how I’d changed?” She picked at the hem of her dress, her face reddening as she felt Lorenzo’s gaze boring into her. “God, I sound so pathetic,” she chided herself.
“No, I would never use that word to describe you,” Lorenzo insisted as he squatted down to her level. “Exasperating, certainly. Stubborn would be appropriate,” he teased. Sage smiled shyly in response. “I didn’t know you felt like this,” he admitted softly.
“It wasn’t your job.”
Lorenzo cupped her chin and tilted it up to meet his eyes. “It is now,” he said firmly.
Sage looked hopeful as Lorenzo took her hands and gave each a paternal kiss. “Are you sure? I’m kind of a handful.”
Lorenzo smiled knowingly. “Then you’ll fit right in with the family.”
Sage smiled back and then narrowed her gaze as though something had just occurred to her. “Hey, how do you know Alexis Davis so well?”
Lorenzo groaned as he stood, feeling his knees crack. “Ohhhh, right. It’s a long story.”
“Well I’m bored. So unless I can do something normal like any other teenaged girl, you better start talking.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
“Where is it?”
Stefan looked across the seat at Bobbie. They had sat in silence for the duration of the trip and as they approached the lonely looking shack, Bobbie was getting down to business.
“I assume you brought it. I didn’t take it with me in the divorce.”
Stefan nodded and the car eased to a stop. Both exited the vehicle and Stefan indicated to the trunk. It was soon opened by the driver, revealing little else than a small locked case. Pulling out the keys, Stefan unlocked the case and opened it. Within its protective moulding, sat Bobbie’s gun.
She inhaled deeply at the sight of it. Stefan had taught her firearms during their brief marriage, insisting to her that despite the top notch security team for the Cassadine family that had been renowned for generations, there was no excuse for not being familiar and comfortable with various means of self defense.
It was not the first weapon she had fired, but it was her weapon.
A semi-automatic 84FS Cheetah Beretta, complete with a nickel finish and a plastic grip. She had been shown “female friendly” pistols, but had dismissed them in favour of this one.
“Never been to Italy,” she announced evenly as she held it for the first time. Stefan had simply nodded to the private dealer who’d been flown in from overseas, indicating Bobbie’s choice. Although he himself had been trained by an expert, Stefan had decided to tutor Bobbie alone. Stance, grip, breathing, sighting, loading, cleaning. He’d been at her side through all of it, watching her slowly transform as the weapon gradually became a part of her.
A part of Barbara Cassadine.
A part she had chosen to leave behind.
Until now.
She picked it up, savoring the feel again, almost as though she’d missed it. Bobbie took a few moments to check the health and maintenance before collecting the magazine and expertly loading the gun. “You’ve kept it in beautiful shape,” she admired.
“Thank you,” Stefan replied, “Claude will be most pleased by your compliment when I pass it to him.” He wouldn’t tell her that he had been the one to faithfully care for the beauty once its owner had departed Wyndemere than fateful evening.
“Show me,” she requested and Stefan took her along the somewhat hilly path to where the shack stood. Sentries flanked the depressed door, unmoving from their appointed post.
“I’m going in alone.”
Stefan stopped sharply. He bit back his refusal and waited a moment. She knew he wouldn’t approve of such a declaration.
“I know you don’t approve, but this belongs to me. It’s not for anyone else to see,” Bobbie said slowly. She had thought about this moment for quite some time, agonizing over every minute detail. She appreciated Stefan’s unwavering support, but this was about her child and her child’s killer. There would be no other option than the one she had just told him.
Stefan turned and pulled Bobbie to face him. He studied her carefully, looking for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. He found none. His emerald orbs bore into her determined brown ones. He wanted so badly to be inside with her, to protect her in any way he could. Her stoic demeanor was all the response he needed.
“As you wish,” he finally agreed. He snapped his head toward the guard and the door was pushed open. Light from inside streamed out, beckoning Bobbie in. The guard spoke gruffly in Russian and two more guards quietly filed out of the shack. Bobbie turned and placed her left hand on the rusted doorknob, the gun nestled in her right.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“I will wait for you.”
Barbara Cassadine had returned.
*~*~*~*~*~*
“AJ?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think Morgan will think of Gia as his Mommy?”
AJ propped himself on his pillow and studied Michael. “Do you think he will?”
Michael nodded. “When you and Gia get married, she’ll probably take care of him. Laticia said she and Reginald are gonna get married too because she’s going to have a baby. She won’t take care of Morgan too.”
“You’re right. She’ll be busy with her own baby.”
“Yeah, and sometimes Morgan won’t stop crying until Gia picks him up. He loves her too, I can tell.” Obviously, the young boy had been watching the interactions of his family very closely.
AJ smiled. “Me too.” He paused. “How would that make you feel if Morgan thought of Gia as his Mommy?”
Michael shrugged. “He won’t really know Mommy like I did. He’s probably forgotten most of her. He should have a good Mommy. Gia’s pretty nice. She showed me how to rollerblade and make funny faces. She makes different voices when she reads me a story.”
“So you think she makes good Mommy material?”
Michael nodded then a new problem arose. “Should I call Gia Mommy too?” He seemed worried.
“Do you think you should?” AJ queried. Michael shrugged again and sat up, sitting with his legs crossed. He scratched behind Rosie’s ears absently. “Won’t Morgan be scared if I call Gia ‘Gia’ and he calls her ‘Mommy’?”
“I don’t think so. He might want to know why, when he gets bigger.”
Michael stared at AJ gravely, “but then Morgan would know that Gia isn’t his Mommy. That might make him be sad and cry.”
“You want Morgan to be happy and safe.”
Michael nodded emphatically. “I’m going to protect him and keep him happy and safe from bad guys and being scared.”
“It’s okay if he gets scared,” AJ gently reminded Michael. “It’s okay if I get scared or Grandma gets scared or Rosie or if you get scared.”
“I don’t like being scared,” Michael whispered. He leaned down and hugged Rosie to him. Memories of the terrible night surfaced once more and he clutched Rosie tightly. She licked his hand, sensing his tremble.
“It’s okay,” AJ whispered back. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why Levka is here and Gia and Papa Edward and Rosie and Lucas and Grandma Bobbie and the hiding moon and the shining stars are here. We’re all here for you Michael. You and Morgan.”
Michael nodded, feeling himself calm once more at AJ’s reassurance. “I told Morgan about Mommy playing with the hiding moon. You were getting a wipe from the bathroom for his hands and I told him that she played with the moon just like I do and you do. You know what he did?”
“What?”
Michael let out a giggle. “He smiled. He smiled at me and he grabbed my hand and tried to pull himself up. He practically walked,” he declared proudly.
“Wow,” AJ marveled, knowing full well that Morgan was a long way from taking the tentative steps in walking. Still, Michael’s grin grew with AJ’s awe. He thumped his head against the pillow and giggled once more.
AJ laid down next to him and the 2 pairs of brown eyes watched each other for a moment before Michael asked another question.
“AJ?”
“Yeah?”
“Tomorrow is Saturday, right?”
“Yep.”
“You don’t work, right?”
“Nope. Got any ideas for what you might like to do?”
Michael sucked in his breath and bit his lower lip as he considered sharing his grand idea with AJ. “Maybe we could paint my room,” he said.
On the inside, AJ did cartwheels at Michael’s idea, but on the outside, he toned his enthusiasm down to a dull roar of approval. “That’s a great idea! Have you been thinking about a colour?”
Michael’s eyes grew heavy all of a sudden as sleep fought to gain control over him. Rosie let out a gentle gruff as she usually did before drifting off to sleep, as a last warning to any impending bad guys out there who might come near her Michael.
“Green.”
“You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
“Green it is.”
“AJ?”
“Yeah?”
Now they were back to sleepy whispering.
“You won’t go anywhere will you?”
“Like on a trip?”
“No. Like…away. From me. And Morgan.”
AJ reached out with his hand and took his son’s small hand in his.
“Never.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
*~*~*~*~*
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