Chapter Thirteen
Stavros’ mind clears upon hearing Stefan call his son’s name. Minutes after Stefan leaves the hidden room, Stavros hears the sound of crying. He steps up on the chair again, listening intently at the air vent, and croons a Greek lullaby to his son over and over. After many long minutes, the crying stops, and Stavros climbs down from the chair, intent on a plan.
Nikolas...how long had it been since he’d seen his son or heard his name spoken? Stavros recalls Nikolas’ chubby cheeks, bright brown eyes and the two tiny white teeth that peek out from behind his laughing red lips. His son always coos and giggles. He loves to be bounced on his daddy’s knee and held in his pretty blond mother’s arms.
Stavros shakes his head and refocuses on his mission. He must concentrate on leaving this place and reclaiming his family. His long black and gray hair brushes the tops of his sweating arms, as he bends his head, concentrating on creating a diversion, a reason to have his manacles removed. For hours, he works at the frame of his metal bed, banging and shaking the immovable piece of furniture. Finally, the headboard separates from the bedframe, and he moves his arm over the rough, exposed metal.
~*~*~*~
Nikolas wakes up in a totally dark room. His disorientation frightens him, and he tries to sit up, but promptly falls back onto his pillows. His head feels absolutely crushed, worse than any pain he’s ever suffered. As his head hits the pillow, a thousand lights blaze out in his vision, and his stomach clenches in nausea and pain. He begins crying with a sad, desperate lonely sound. After a couple of minutes, his mind alerts to the sound of soft singing in his native language. Something about the song is vaguely familiar and soothing – where is it coming from? Nikolas continues crying, but in a softer, less desperate manner. He curls up on his side, his hands wrapped protectively around his middle.
~*~*~*~
"Nurse Christy, come here," says Stefan. "My nephew has sustained a blow to the head and has been in and out of consciousness. He needs to be examined. Follow me," he beckons as he points towards the stairs and wraps a guiding hand around the nurse’s waist. "I can trust your discretion," he says as he breathes the words into her ear.
"Always," she replies softly.
"I have urgent business to attend to at General Hospital," he adds. "Take excellent care of my nephew."
~*~*~*~
The late night janitor walks purposefully through the GH hallways pushing a metal framed garbage cart with more of a swish and sway in his gait than normal. Joe Miller seems to have grown six inches taller overnight with breasts and high, high heels. Actually, Joe hasn’t turned transvestite overnight, he is relaxing in his favorite bar watching football and buying his buddies beers with the bribe that the tall, good-looking broad gave him. Five hundred dollars is a lot of money and more than he typically earns in a week.
The garbage cart holds two full garbage cans, one empty and one not. An errant wheel squeaks and squeals ominously as it is pushed. Every once in awhile the full gray plastic garbage can moves on its own as if some force is pushing its way from the inside out and making a grumbling noise. The janitor keeps pressing down the lid that continually pops up.
Stefan Cassadine walks through the GH hallways, searching for Laura Spencer. Lost in thought, he accidentally bumps into the janitor who looks into his eyes with a bit of fear and surprise. Stefan drinks in her bright green eyes and lithe figure ending in those long, tall heels. The janitor quickly recovers, pulls her green hat over her face and turns and wheels the cart away at a rapid pace. Stefan looks on with a bemused glance and smiling lips. What happened to the GH dress code? he wonders as he heads off again in search of Lasha.
~*~*~*~
Nurse Christy hums to herself as she presses the fifth floor button on the private elevator in the West Wing. She’s been working for Stefan Cassadine for four and a half years, hired shortly after he took residence at Wyndemere. Every day, she enters the private west entrance in the late evening, carrying a medical bag full of syringes and medications, tools of the psychiatric trade. The elevator stops with a harsh jolt that almost makes her lose her balance, and she rests her hand on the side of the gray interior while she takes in a deep breath. She observes the dark, wood paneled corridor revealed as the elevator door slowly opens with a screech that begs to be oiled.
She doesn’t think much about her upcoming work as she walks down the dimly lit corridor. There are a thousand details that flit through her mind, the laundry that waits for her, errands that need to be run, the distractions of daily life. When she finally stops far down the hall, she wrestles for the key that unlocks the ancient wooden door. Her hand accesses the cool metal of the correct key, and she inserts it, turning it slowly and deliberately. She enters the dark room and shuts the door behind her, not bothering to lock it. For four years, her patient has been secured, manacled with iron to the room’s interior wall – there’s no need to worry about escape.
She turns the light on so she can search through her medical bag for the appropriate medications. This patient is heavily sedated, the pharmaceutical supplies provided monthly by Mr. Cassadine himself. Nurse Christy smiles. She never asks questions. She has an ill, elderly mother who resides in an expensive nursing home courtesy of Stefan Cassadine.
Nurse Christy frowns as she approaches her patient. He is usually in bed asleep, but tonight he is on the floor next to his metal twin bed. His head lolls down toward the floor with the appearance of unconsciousness. His breathing is labored, and he is very pale and ill looking. She kneels to check on him and jumps when she notices that he’s managed to mangle his arm with a piece of metal that he’s worked loose from the metal bed. She can almost hear the moist red blood drip repeatedly into the copious, spreading pool forming on the floor. Reaching for her keys, she pulls out a shiny small key that she’s never used, a key that unlocks the manacles surrounding the patient’s wrists. Her hands shake in her hurry to open the metal band connected to the iron chains that drape across the patient’s stomach. He makes no sound as she works frantically, and she fears he is dying.
At the instant the manacles snap open, the patient’s almond-shaped brown eyes open and his lips part in a wicked grin that reveals his beautiful, even white teeth. In a second, Stavros leaps to his feet and wraps his chains around Nurse Christy’s neck, pulling them tightly and grunting with his efforts. His biceps bulge, and his bleeding arm splatters and soaks the bodice of her crisp, white nurse’s uniform as she desperately twists and squirms, trying to free herself from the murderous wrath of the aristocratic madman. Stavros brings Nurse Christy’s face close to his, and oddly, she notices that he has the most beautiful, long black eyelashes framing his mad eyes.
~*~*~*~
Stavros’ enjoyment stops when he notices that she is a brunette, not a blond. “áðïêëåßåôáé ! (No way) he says with disgust as he flings her to the twin metal bed. He snaps the manacles around her wrists and glares at her. “êáéñüò åßíáé ! (It’s about time) he says. He hasn’t spoken English in twenty years and becomes enraged when she doesn’t understand him. “ìéÜ ÷áñÜ !,”(Fine) he grits between his teeth, and then irritably points to the strip of cloth that he has torn from a sheet. A stray thought crosses his mind, and he yells, "Fix!" and points to his arm.
~*~*~*~
The janitor imposter picks up a bag of garbage, opens the can and dumps it inside, quickly replacing the lid before the furious noises can escape through the top. She steadily wheels it toward room 4b, but hangs back as she spots the same gentleman that she collided with earlier. She parks the garbage cart around the corner and peers out, hoping to discover what is going on. When the gray garbage can moves, she kicks it.
~*~*~*~
Visiting hours are over, but Luke and Laura are fast asleep in a chair outside of Lucky’s room. An hour earlier, Luke had finally dropped into the chair out of sheer exhaustion, and Laura joined him, hoping to catch a few winks of sleep. They have been in GH almost constantly since Lucky’s unfortunate viral run-in with Helena Cassadine and his literal run-in with the boy-toy. Nikolas’ unfortunate breakdown just adds to Laura’s torment and worry over her children.
Stefan walks up to the couple and sneers at the sight of Lasha entwined with Luke in such an intimate way, her long, blond hair cascading over Luke’s chest as she rests her head on his shoulder. Stefan kicks the side of the chair, jolting the two out of their slumber. Luke’s eyes open wide, and he frantically scrambles to sit upright at the sight of his enemy.
"What in the world are you doing here, Count?" asks Luke wearily as he yawns with a hand to his mouth. He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his short gray hair. "I know it’s night, but don’t you have a cave to hang out in or something? Go bother someone else. Plenty of other mortals out there whose blood you can suck."
Laura stretches and passes a hand over her face. "Stefan," she says. "You look upset. Is something wrong? Why are you here?"
"Lasha," says Stefan in a choked voice. "I wanted to come here to tell you in person."
Luke makes a nasty face at Stefan’s use of the word "Lasha."
"Tell me, Stefan," Laura says. "Is it Nikolas? Is something wrong?"
Stefan nods sadly. "Yes, it is Nikolas. Lasha, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Nikolas has died. He ran from his room in General Hospital this morning and died in a fiery crash while escaping in his Jaguar." Stefan’s shoulders hunch, and he turns his face away in a losing attempt at maintaining his composure.
Laura’s lips begin to tremble, and she shouts tearily, "NO! Oh God, No! My son, my baby! No, not Nikolas!"
Luke wraps his arms protectively around Laura’s shaking body while he looks over at Stefan with a suspicious glare. "You can go now, Count. I’ll take care of my wife," he says, emphasizing the last word.
Stefan nods wordlessly and backs away slowly, his eyes never leaving Laura. "I’ll be in touch later concerning the arrangements," he says softly.
~*~*~*~
The janitor takes advantage of the momentary distraction with the four adults discussing the death of someone named Nikolas. She quickly pushes the cart toward room 4b, mentally cringing and making a face at the squeaking wheel.
She slips into room 4b and motions to the teenager sitting on the bed. She throws a change of clothes on the bed and points to them, then to him while she nods.
Lucky Spencer looks at Blair and makes at circle motion with his index finger.
She huffs, makes a face and turns around while he quickly whips off his hospital gown and pulls on the jeans and sweatshirt.
Blair turns and lifts the lid of the empty garbage can and points inside. She jerks her thumb in Lucky’s direction as her eyebrows rise threateningly. Lucky hesitates, and she places her hands on her hips and bores holes into his head with her fiery eyes. Lucky’s eyes widen in response, and he compliantly steps into the can and sits down shakily. Blair slams the lid over his head and wheels the cart back out into the hall. She has trouble steering the cart with the doubly heavy load that she’s now carrying. She rams it into the walls a couple of times, and one can almost hear the combined moaning and angry cussing emitting from the thick, plastic containers.
~*~*~*~
Nurse Christy lays weakly on the twin bed, her heart racing and her forehead dotted with perspiration. She’s been valiantly trying to free herself from her iron chains, but to no avail. How long will I be imprisoned here? she wonders. An uneasy feeling rises within her. And what will Stefan do when he discovers my failure?
~*~*~*~
Stavros hugs the wall. How long has it been since he’s been out of a solitary room? Never once in four and a half years has he exited the hidden room in Wyndemere’s elusive fifth floor west wing. In Greece, he’d been locked up in one room for sixteen years, and then drugged unconscious for the trip to Port Charles.
Stavros grits his teeth and ventures back into the hallway with a father’s desperate determination. He tries every door near him, thrusting the key in and trying to turn the lock. Finally, he accesses the correct door, and the lock snaps open.
He raises his eyebrows, and his eyes fill with tears at the thought of baby Nikolas, the love of his life. "Brephos," he says longingly as he enters the room. He reaches for the light and recoils at the sight of a handsome, although beat-up, young man lying curled up on a bed with his eyes closed. Frowning, Stavros walks over to Nikolas and closely inspects his face. He looks like me, he thinks in amazement.
Stavros reaches for the medallion handing from the chain that has worked its way out of Nikolas’ shirt and onto his chest. Stavros’ mouth opens in surprise. His shaking hand lays the medallion carefully back onto Nikolas’ chest. "Nikolas Cassadine," he mouths out loud in an incredulous whisper. "My son."
~*~*~*~
Blair pushes the heavy garbage cart into the General Hospital underground parking garage. She stops when she reaches the black Mercedes parked under a wavering fluorescent light. She swiftly kicks the right plastic can, and the lid instantly flies off of the top.
"Get me out of here!" growls its occupant.
Blair peers down into the can and laughs at the sight of her ex-husband’s garbage-strewn head. His hand reaches upward, searching for a lift up. Blair grabs his hand and pulls. He is packed inside the garbage can with all six feet of his legs, arms and trunk tangled together. The harder Blair pulls, the louder he groans until he pops out of the can with every joint in his body snapping and creaking in a symphony of pain.
Todd stands hunched over in the can, glaring death and hate at Blair. He loses his balance as his weak legs buckle, and he falls over with the tipped can. The harsh movement disrupts the adjoining can, and it promptly rolls off the side of the cart, bumping merrily down the parking garage until it hits a wall. The lid pops off, and one leg sticks out of the can as the sound of "AAAHHHH!!" echoes throughout the concrete structure.
Todd sits up on the floor of the garage, rubbing his arms and legs repeatedly, trying to bring back the blood and feeling into his limbs. As his mouth opens to say something nasty, and/or scathing, Blair interrupts him. "YOU’RE the one who wants to be a secret agent man, skulking out of the hospital undetected by cops, goons or doctors. Don’t blame me, it’s your fault if you’re stiff," Blair crabs as she makes a sneering face at Todd. Todd opens his mouth again, and she yells, "Shut up!" He frowns and points toward the other garbage can nestled against a wall many yards away. "You want me to help the pipsqueak," she says. "Well, you should have said so," she huffs as she walks away.
Todd looks around at nobody in particular and shrugs his shoulders as his right eyebrow rises an inch. He reluctantly follows Blair.
Todd holds onto the can while Blair grabs the one exposed leg with a cast on it, and yanks ferociously. A muffled cry results. Finally, Todd pulls the can off of what appears to be a twisted Lucky pretzel.
Lucky lies on the concrete garage floor gasping for air. "The coffin was better than that," he gripes loudly, although he is not able to hear his own words. "At least it had satin padding."
Todd hoists Lucky up onto his feet, and the odd couple walks stiffly over to the black Mercedes as Blair’s high heels click and clack in an angry staccato behind them.
~*~*~*~
Stavros shakes Nikolas, trying to wake his son. Nikolas’ eyes open blearily to a tall, intense man standing over him, but he is not afraid. There is something vaguely familiar about the man, and the soothing words that he speaks are in Greek.
Stavros struggles to help Nikolas up from the bed, and Nikolas cooperates by swinging his legs to the floor and attempting to stand. Father and son walk halting to the doorway and down the hall. "We must leave here immediately," says Stavros tensely. "Where can we go?" he wonders out loud. The two men stop in front of the elevator.
Nikolas leans against the wall panting for his breath and placing a hand to his head. "I don’t feel well," he complains to his companion.
"Come," says Stavros as he places an arm around Nikolas and leads him into the elevator.
After they exit the elevator on the first floor, Nikolas points a shaking finger to a doorway in the right corner. "The tunnels," he explains in a pain-filled voice. "We can escape through the tunnels."
Stefan's poison kiss
Todd' identity crisis
From the looney bin to the graveyard
What are you up to now, Sonny?