"Bring Stefan Back Fanfiction Challenge"     Regrets Renewal and Return   By Anna Dannir   July 5, 2002 Stefan Cassadine looked around the villa outside of Milan and sighed. It had seemed such a good idea six months ago: come to Milan, see what it was that Chloe enjoyed about this part of Italy, meet the designers who had been her friends, and make peace with her death. Now he was not so sure. It was July, and as the anniversary of Chloe Morgan's death in September of 2001 approached, he was more and more...dissatisfied. He looked out over the countryside, one morning as he sipped his coffee. Looked down upon the hills to the city of Milan and the waters of the bay in the distance, and in a moment of utter clarity realized that he should never have come. He would never find the peace...the absolution... he sought. At least not here. Yet I cannot go back: I must allow Nikolas the room to find his own way. I would be forever looking over his shoulder and offering advice which would only be counter-productive. He thought for a long time, lingering over his coffee that morning, before finally coming to a decision. July 7, 2002 He put his bags down in the foyer of the rented villa, then walked to the desk and wrote a short note to Nikolas, sealing it within a previously addressed and stamped envelope. He was just finishing when there was a knock on the door. "It is open," he called out in Italian. "Ah, excuse me, signore...." "I am ready to go to the airport. Take my bags down and I shall be with you in a moment." He placed the letter and a small pile of money on the desk next to his keys with a note to the housekeeper thanking her for her work and asking her to give the letter to the postman in the morning. Satisfied that he had thought of everything, he went out, closing the door behind him. As the car pulled away down the steep hillside toward Milan, a woman's gloved hand plucked the envelope off the table. June 2003 Stefan Cassadine paused as he walked down the colonnade in mid-afternoon. His arms were full of papers and a small box of computer disks balanced precariously on top, but even after almost a year the view out over the valley from this spot never ceased to cause him to pause in appreciation. The patchwork of vinyards and sown fields punctuated by the firs that seemed to line every road and pathway was quite pleasing to the eye as they marched up the other side of the valley some miles distant. He had pledged to stay and work for one year at this monastery just outside Orvieto hoping that hard work and quiet would assist him in finding the peace he sought. However he was all too aware that his time here was almost up. He had chosen this monastery because, at this stage in his life, travelling to some far distant buddhist monastery in Nepal or India was out of the question. And here too he could leave at a moment's notice if Nikolas found cause to recall him. Respecting his wishes, Nikolas had not even sent a reply to his letter which had informed him where he was going and how to reach him in an emergency. He could only believe that all was well in Port Charles. Later, meditating on his own, he realized that he was at peace. Somehow it had occurred without his knowledge while he was busy doing other things. In the last week of June Stefan found himself making plans to depart. Once he left this oasis of calm he knew his first phone call would be to Alexis: she would best be able to tell him if he needed to return immediately or if Nikolas would even welcome his presence. He secretly hoped he was not needed: if there was time he wished to simply drive through Italy, thus easing back into a more hectic lifestyle than he had enjoyed for the past year. Too, Alexis would be able to tell him what had occurred in the interrim. He smiled thinking of their younger sister Kristina. He fully expected to find that Ned Ashton had badgered her into a recording contract with L&B and he found that the idea did not displease him as it might have done once upon a time. His smile grew as he adjusted the straps on his leather suitcase. It may well be that I will return to find that Nikolas and Gia have married. If true, Mother will have had an apoplectic fit, something I will be not entirely unhappy to have missed. He was mildly surprised to find that he thought of Gia as better suited for Nikolas than he had eighteen months before, but then so much of his worldview had changed in that time that it should not have surprised him at all. The next morning he walked out of the small visitor's gate and found a taxi waiting for him. He knew he had not called for one, but surmised, as he got in, that one of the brothers had called for him as the walk into town was relatively long and at least partially uphill. "I would like to be taken to the Hotel Pallazzo Piccolomeni," he said, and received a nod from the driver. He would in all likelihood not be staying there: it was the height of tourist season and he had no reservation, but he could use their telephone to arrange a rental car, and leave his bag at the desk while he had lunch down the street at Trattiora Mezza Luna. He had eaten there the night he had arrived in Orvieto a year ago and he could still remember the excellent meal he had been served. He could have laughed at that: Nikolas would not believe the difference between the somber man; insistent on being accorded the level of respect and deference due him, that he had been for most of Nikolas' life, and the quiet pleasure he now felt at being safely anonymous in a small town in Italy. A place where his few needs: a meal and a telephone, would be met without fanfare, if not quite with the alacrity he would prefer. He watched the town of Orvieto grow larger, then they were in the outer neighborhoods heading for the walled center of the city far up the hill. Well before the hotel, the taxi suddenly took a left off the narrow street into an alleyway barely wide enough to accommodate it. Caught by surprise, Stefan was still trying to find the words in Italian to properly describe his annoyance, when the taxi turned right through an archway and pulled to a stop in a small courtyard. The doors to the street were closed behind the car, and it dawned on Stefan, as several very well armed men appeared, that he was in much more trouble than he could have imagined a few moments before. One of the men opened the back door and gestured with his gun at Stefan. "Out," he ordered. "Get out." Hands raised, Stefan complied, still in a state of shock. The last thing he remembered was the slow grin on the man's face, then he was hit from behind and everything went black. The first sensation that came back to him was pain: a knot of pain in the back of his skull that throbbed in time with his heartbeat. After a little while he found he could concentrate well enough to take stock of his situation. He was blindfolded, and both his hands, which were tied in front of him, and his bound feet, were numb: hours must have gone by since he was kidnapped. He was lying on a floor: on a low nap but soft carpet, and he could feel vibrations and a constant soft rumble consistent with the engines of an airplane. How long he had been unconscious or where he was being taken was unknown. He must have moved or given some other sign of being awake because hands lifted him to his feet. A cool dry hand caressed his cheek, the perfume he could suddenly smell was all too familiar. "Mother." "Very good, Stefan." "Is the blindfold really necessary?" He could imagine her smile. "Of course. It keeps you from foolishly causing a disturbance." He was pushed down into a leather chair, the padding molding itself to his body as someone strapped him in. "What are you planning to do, Mother?" She laughed. He always hated her laugh: it usually meant that he had done or said something stupid, or something she could punish him for. "If I told you, you would attempt to find some way to stop me," she said, leaning in close, her breath, laced with cognac, warm against his cheek. "Since we cannot have that, you simply must live with the disappointment of not being better informed." He knew she would eventually be unable to resist gloating in front of him so he lapsed into silence. As the headache diminished, and he was better able to think, he realized that it all must have to do with Nikolas. Whatever she had done was designed to ruin Nikolas' life or cause him to be grateful when she arrived to 'rescue' him from his 'folly'. Truly vexing was the concept that there was absolutely nothing which he could do about it save to wait for an opportunity to escape. Mid-October 2003 He paused listening at the door. He had perfected his plan after months in captivity, then waited until Helena had left the complex again to put it into action, knowing the bulk of the guards would go with her. Knowing that she would drug his food while she was away as she had done before, this time he had managed to only pretend to eat, tucking all of the food into a napkin, then flushed it down the toilet before they came to retrieve the plates and utensils. Now he stood listening at the door leading from this corridor to the next, waiting to be certain the guards were not about before proceeding. Two hours later, having left two guards unconscious in his wake, just as the moon peeked out above the trees, he emerged from the complex and realized where he was: the woods north of the lighthouse in Port Charles. Damn you, Mother. How big is this complex you had built? He had thought he was somewhere else entirely. He had thought, especially after reaching the natural caves that had only been slightly modified, that he was somewhere, anywhere, else. But now he could see that it was merely an annex of the complex that he had been held in two years ago. The complex where Stavros had jumped to his, presumed, death during a fight with Luke Spencer while he and Lucky worked to delay or disarm the detonation of bombs designed to seal everyone inside for all eternity. He took a moment to calm himself: to allow the anger to flow out as it was counter-productive. As expected Helena had finally been unable to resist taunting him with her plans, and once she began, she continued to keep him abreast of the situation as it grew more and more desperate. She had told him before she left earlier in the evening that she was going to witness the 'last act in this sordid drama', but did not deign to explain the somewhat cryptic remark. His goal now was simple: to reach Wyndemere and warn Nikolas. To do so without being recaptured or otherwise stopped would require his utmost concentration. Finally he slipped into the bushes heading toward the harbor. He could only hope he was in time. Upon reaching the docks he stopped and stared. Spoon Island was transformed into something which reminded him of hell, or a battlefield. As it was back-lit by work-lights, he could see that most of the trees and bushes on the island were gone, and the mansion was utterly destroyed. He cursed Helena for being woefully inexact. All she had said was that there had been a fire. Not this! For a moment it felt as if all was lost, then, as the shock wore off, he turned to walk toward Kelly's diner, knowing he had no change in his pockets for the nearby payphone. Kelly's was dark and he surmised it was later than he expected. It took him a few moments to come to a decision, then he broke the glass and unlocked the door from the inside, reasoning that Barbara at least would forgive the vandalism under the circumstances. A glance at the calendar behind the counter as he retrieved the telephone showed that today was the sixteenth. A few more moment's thought retrieved Alexis' phone number from his memory. The number was no longer in service. No longer in service? What could possibly... He hung up the phone still trying to puzzle that out, and remember Alexis' cell phone number, which, alas had always been programmed into his cell phone so he could not remember it at all. He was rooting around under the counter trying to find the telephone directory in the very dim light when he heard the door being pushed open along with the crackle of a police radio. Mentally he consigned all such conscientious police officers to the level of hell they belonged in, hoping the man would simply wait for back-up which would at least afford him some time to think of a plausible excuse besides the truth. "I know you're behind the counter. Come out with your hands up," a woman's voice ordered. Damn. Stefan slowly rose to his feet. The policewoman's flashlight beamed directly into his face and Stefan resisted the urge to shield his eyes, though he did squint in order to be able to see later. There was a few moments silence. "I thought you were supposed to be dead." Dead? "As I am certain you are quite able to surmise, 'the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated'." "You must be the real deal. Nobody else would probably think of quoting Clemens." The flashlight beam lowered slightly. "Stefan Cassadine, you are under arrest. Come out here, turn around and put your hands on top of your head." "There is a simple explanation. I needed to use the telephone," Stefan explained as he complied. There was no point in resisting at the moment and it did cross his mind that he might be marginally safer in the police station than out on the streets until he could get in touch with Nikolas or Alexis. "I knew I would be able to pay Barbara back in the morning." "It's still breaking and entering, so I am going to have to take you in," she said as she handcuffed him. "But don't worry: I'm sure Commissioner Scorpio will allow you to make at least one phone call." "I have already attempted to call Alexis Davis. The number I have memorized is out of service. I was looking for the directory when you arrived." Suddenly the lights in the room went on and, blinking, Stefan turned his head to see Lucky Spencer standing in the doorway, staring open mouthed at him. Lucky was wearing a t-shirt and loose fitting sweatpants and looked half-awake. "Aren't you supposed to have been buried this afternoon?" Lucky asked. "Hi Lucky. We've already been over that," the policewoman said from behind Stefan before he could reply. "Hey Doree." Lucky grinned and leaned against the wall. "You read him his rights yet?" "Haven't quite gotten to that," she replied. "But I figure I'll let him repeat his explanation at the station if he wants to. Otherwise I heard nothing. You want to do it?" Lucky shook his head. "Oh no. Then I'll have to come down to the station and fill out the paperwork." He grinned at her again. "Nice try though. I'm officially 'not here'. In fact, if asked, I was asleep until someone knocked on my door wondering if I heard anything." Fill out the.... I had thought Mother was joking. There is a Spencer in the police force. I wonder how his father took the news. Not well, of that I am certain. "Lucky....is this entirely necessary?" He nodded, his eyes narrowing. "After all the stuff you pulled? Oh yeah. I'm lookin' forward to this." "That was an impostor. Mother has been holding me prisoner since the beginning of July." Lucky shook his head. "Sorry Stefan. I'm not buying it. I don't think Mac Scorpio will either, and I know DA Baldwin won't. If nothing else he needs to put someone away for Summer Holloway's murder 'cause he's really slipping in the polls, and if it isn't going to be my dad...and it's not, then it might as well be you. Especially since you confessed on tv." He nodded to his co-worker. "Might as well get it over with Officer Sullivan." "Stefan Cassadine, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?" Stefan nodded, but he was watching Lucky who was obviously enjoying this. "Very well, Lucky. I shall wait for Alexis...." Lucky blinked, and just for a moment he seemed to entertain the idea that Stefan might just be telling the truth, but only for a moment. "You'll have a long wait," he said. "I think she hates your guts right now more than even my dad does." He looked at the other officer. "Doree, if you're comfortable with it I'm going to go get changed." "Sure. I called for back-up anyway. They should be here an time now." At the new police station Stefan was surprised to find both Mac Scorpio and Scott Baldwin in attendance. "Well, well, well. Y'know if I didn't see it with my own eyes I never would believe it, right Mac?" DA Baldwin said, grinning at Stefan. Scott Baldwin, as usual, annoyed Stefan. He could never quite pinpoint why, only that he was usually 'in the way' when it came to Laura. For a moment he let himself think of Laura: Helena had told him with quite an irritatingly superior air, that Laura had finally cracked and now was catatonic in a mental hospital in Switzerland. He knew better to have asked if she had caused it: he knew instinctively that was most likely the case. His only hope was to find a way to reverse whatever drugs had placed her in such a condition. But he had to prove he was who he said he was and the other was an impostor first. "Seems kinda dazed, doesn't he Mac?" Baldwin asked. "Maybe he's been drugged..." "I assure you I am in full control of my faculties, Mr. Baldwin." "So you're not going to claim temporary insanity for breaking into Kelly's? You disappoint me Cassadine. Seems to me that that defense has become sort of a 'pet response' to legal difficulties in your family lately." "I have no intentions of anything quite so...over the top." Stefan looked at Mac. "This could all be cleared up quite easily Commissioner if I could simply tell you what has occurred since the beginning of July and then apologise to Bobbie Spencer and pay for the window." "So you admit to breaking and entering..." Scott was rubbing his hands together. "This ought to really amuse the judge." "No he is not, Mr. Baldwin." They all turned as Ric Lansing walked over. "I am advising my client to stay silent and admit to nothing at this time." Stefan stared at him. He had seen him twice, both times in the complex where he was being held. However he was entirely certain that neither Lansing nor Helena had any idea he had seen them together. "I'm sorry, have we met?" he asked mildly with just the right amount of confusion. October 17, 2003 Most of the new cells in the basement of the PCPD were at least a step above the open ones in the old jail. The one they put Stefan into was smaller at six by ten feet than most of the old ones, and completely made of cinderblock save for the metal door with a narrow window above the handle and a slot below it big enough to allow hands to be put through to be cuffed or for a tray of food to be passed through. It was intended for prisoners staying longer than the time it took to be arraigned. He had seen the short term holding cells closer to the stairs as he was escorted to his cell. They were more like the old ones: merely large cages similar to the smaller version upstairs, and useful only that they seperated the prisoners from the guards. Left alone with the requested pads of paper and pens, Stefan surveyed his current abode and sighed. Upstairs, when he had managed to let Mac know that he absolutely had to speak to him without Ric or Scott in attendance, he had not realized the change in the cell configuration to be quite so drastic. Now he wondered if it was even possible to have the conversation he must have with the man without someone overhearing. Finally, with a slight shake of his head, he sat down at the very small table fixed to the floor by the head of the bed and began to write. He began by stating the obvious: he, and not the person who had been seen in town for the better part of this year, was the real Stefan Cassadine, and that he had been held in a section of the underground complex cut off from the rest that had been discovered in 2001. He included details on how to find the entrance, although he was not entirely certain that the landmarks he was describing would be the same in daylight as they had appeared in the near-dark of the partially moonlit woods. The name, address, and telephone number of the monastery he had stayed in, as well as pertinent information related to his stay there, was the next to be written out. Perhaps, after calling Orvieto, Mac Scorpio would begin to believe him. Perhaps not. If Br. Sebastian, who was the only one who knew who he was outside the walls, had been neutralized, then all might still be lost. But a photograph faxed to the monks might still bring some one of them to say 'yes he was here until the end of June'. He knew from what Helena had said that the impostor had arrived in Port Charles earlier than the beginning of July, and thus, since he could not be in two places at the same time, the first one must surely be an impostor, if his own activities could be accounted for. It was also true that his doppleganger had most assuredly not acted as he would have under similar circumstances. He was grateful he had thought to ask Officer Sullivan for a precis of the charges laid against him over the past few months: now he knew that Helena had been less than explicit when she had gloated over how well her plans had been coming together. Attempting to murder Emily Quartermaine. Using a servant to do the deed. Whatever was he thinking?! He shook his head. Thank goodness he was not thinking or I would be less able to prove myself. More troubling was the idea that anyone would believe he would have remained on the sidelines where Alexis was concerned, and then attempted to frame Ned Ashton for having sex with a minor. No. Had I been here I would have attempted something much more subtle, and more likely aimed at Edward than Ned. Putting into motion a plan to force Ned to pay more attention to ELQ business than to the infant has a certain appeal, and attempting to prise Skye Quartermaine away from his side by any means necessary might have worked. But Edward was the hand behind the scenes. His influence with the judge would have been neutralized first, perhaps forcing her to recuse herself and remanding the case to the proper court. He still could not believe the same judge was in charge of his niece's welfare as had presided over the various trials and motions related to Alexis' actions following the death of Luis Alcazar. And they say the Cassadines are corrupt and debauched. It would almost be funny if the situation was not so dire. Mac Scorpio arrived just as Stefan's hand was cramping: he was quite unused to writing longhand for such an extended period, and he had pushed himself to finish before Mac went home for the night. He mused that the sight of the Police Commissioner crouching in front of the cell door and whispering through the pass-through was probably going to amuse someone. "All right Cassadine. What do you have to say to me that you could not with your lawyer present?" "He is not my lawyer. If Alexis cannot or will not take my case after talking to me in the morning then I will have to find another, and quickly." "Ric Lansing's probably your best bet..." "He is working for Helena." "What?" "He is in her employ. I saw him twice while I was being held prisoner. You cannot leave me alone with him again unless you would like to find my corpse later in this cell." "She's in town?" "And has been since at least the beginning of July when I was brought here." "This is insane..." Stefan handed him the folded pages of notes. "This, if you are able to read my handwriting, shall explain much, Commissioner. You must show this to Alexis and tell her I apologise for not escaping sooner, and ask her to speak to Nikolas. I do not hold any illusions that he will come here to see me on his own." Mac looked through the pages. "I'm going to have to do some investigating..." "I understand. Please do not take this the wrong way, but I would prefer you not tell Scott Baldwin until after you have spoken to Alexis and confirmed what I have said. He will merely get in the way of your investigation." Mac almost laughed. "For a guy who hasn't been around lately you really have him pegged." "I have been kept informed of the gyrations he had gone through to pin the death of Summer Holloway on Spencer before he failed utterly. ...Mother enjoys gloating." "Ah." "Do not make a misstep, Mac. My life is unimportant, but both Nikolas and Alexis' lives hang in the balance. If Helena finds she is being thwarted before you are able to move against her they may well die: it would be her ultimate revenge after all." He said this knowing Mac would not understand that Helena would much rather watch Nikolas struggle and fail before she had him killed for the temerity of not following her blindly and siding with her enemies. Over the last few months he had wondered if any of them were really important to her if she could do as she was doing to Nikolas. He had concluded that even Nikolas was less important to her than winning. Thus he too was in mortal danger, and would live only so long as it amused her to torment him. Later, his arm covering his eyes from the ceiling light that was constantly on, Stefan allowed himself to feel the emotions he had been repressing over the last three months since Helena had told him what had been occurring since he entered the monastery. Old grief warred with rage that he did nothing to prevent any of it because he had been under the impression that Nikolas knew where he was and, hearing nothing, he assumed all was well. He should have known better. Kristina died. Mo...Helena boasted she had arranged for it to appear to be merely an accident resulting from Sonny Corinthos' more nefarious business dealings. Thus she eliminated one of the reminders of her rival, and alienated Alexis from one of her protectors. He remembered he had attempted to attack Helena upon hearing this...and the news that he had missed the funeral. The resulting beating had been almost worth it for it had partially masked his grief. Then she had set Luis Alcazar up to cause Alexis to fall: I wonder if the man even understood that, having served to advance her plans, he would die as a result of his actions? And that his death would nearly unhinge Alexis? Probably not. Such men as the Alcazar brothers most assuredly must be would never see the trap until it was sprung, only the cheese....in this case Brenda Barrett. I am certain Helena planned for Jasper Jax to die as well, thus removing Alexis' other primary protector, but apparently that failed. But Alexis' child. ...Alexis has had a child.... Idly he had wondered whether the infant looked like Alexis or her father. Helena knows that Sonny is the father. She knows. He had surmised long since that Alexis had not told Sonny because she could project not a little of Helena's attitude toward her own self as a child onto Carly Corinthos. However much he disliked Barbara's brassy daughter, he was not convinced that she would take her feelings for the temporary relationship between her husband and Alexis out on a child, but it was obvious Alexis believed she might. Unfortunately those steps to shield her daughter from a percieved threat had led to the quagmire Alexis currently found herself in. He shook his head, uncertain whether it was better to laugh or to cry at the french farce Alexis' life had become. He was woken up in the morning by the door to the cell being opened. "You have a visitor," he was told. Upstairs, in the interrogation room off the detective's bullpen, he found Alexis waiting. Her mouth was set in a thin line and she appeared to be weighing him as he entered, and finding him wanting. He sat down opposite her as the officer left, locking the door behind him. "We have fifteen minutes," she said. "Mac showed me what you wrote last night. He also informed me that you were arrested for breaking and entering at Kelly's." "I was attempting to call you. Unfortunately the number I have memorized...the one you had while at the Harborview penthouse...is currently out of service." "That's because I moved. Jason must have gotten a new number." Stefan found himself nodding. "I see." "Is that all you're going to say?" Stefan looked down at his hands. Handcuffed in front of him, they lay on the table, useless: unable to gesture as he would wish. It was quite the handicap, he mused. "I do not know what to say, except that I am sorry, Alexis," he said at last. "I am sorry I was not here to assist you, and I am sorry you had to deal with my 'replacement'. I am sorry I did not think it necessary to call you sooner when I heard nothing from either you nor Nikolas for an entire year. I should have known better." He looked up when she said nothing and noted the not quite smile on her lips and the far-away look in her eyes. He now had some hope that she might believe him. "If Mac Scorpio manages to convince himself that I am who I say I am and that the Stefan Cassadine who has been here before this...who has been so recently buried...is an impostor, it is possible that I may yet be of some assistance. But to do so I must be out of these handcuffs and free to act," he told her quietly. She blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "Tell me, if you had offered to assist me in regaining custody of my daughter, what would you have done?" "I would have gone after Edward and the judge. It is obvious, even from what little I know of the situation, that the woman dislikes you and is quite probably being paid off by Edward. Ned I would have distracted with ELQ woes, and Skye...whatever her last name is this month...would have to be prised away from Ned in some manner, but I do not yet know how. It would have taken some time, Alexis, but you would have your daughter in the end." Alexis' tiny, almost wistful, smile slowly spread. "You really are the Stefan I know." He almost laughed. "Yes. I am." Alexis is convinced. Now, what of Nikolas? "...Will you speak to Nikolas on my behalf?" She nodded. "I will. He will be gratified to know that the person who has done all those things over the last few months was not really you." "I merely hope he believes you." "I'll make him believe." He nodded, knowing she would manage it. "Now, what of your current situation?" he asked, pretending to utter ignorance. She blushed, surprising him. "It's complicated." "I have some little time." "Judge Farmer finally gave temporary custody to Cameron Lewis who is Zander Smith's father, and has been involved in all of this mess since before the trial." "In heaven's name why?!" She shrugged helplessly. "He appeared to be the only person without an agenda? The only person who had only Kristina's interests in mind." "And?" he prompted when it seemed she would not continue. "And he's living in the guest room of my apartment?" Stefan almost laughed. It truely had become a french farce if it had come to this. "Don't laugh Stefan, this is serious." "I apologise. It is just so completely absurd." "Don't I know it." "Are you all right with this arrangement?" "I get to spend time with my daughter whenever I like, and it turns out that Cameron can cook better than I can...not that that's a stretch....and we seem to like the same roast and blend of coffee in the morning...." Now Stefan did laugh. He really could not help it. Alexis started out by scowling at him, but soon she too was laughing, if a little ruefully. By the time she left they had worked out exactly what steps would have to be taken to ensure his release, and his continued survival. And one of those steps, as much as its necessity annoyed him, was informing Luke Spencer of the situation. If he could be found. Else I might as well slit my own throat. He began attempting to think of all the things which he would need to accomplish once his release was secured. It would be several days before that occurred he knew. October 21, 2003 "All right Cassadine," Scott Baldwin announced as he stepped into the cell. Stefan uncovered his eyes and blinked at the district attorney who stood glowering at him. "To what do I owe the 'honor' of this visit, Mr. Baldwin?" "You should be pleased: you're getting sprung." At last. Five days is far too long... He sat up on the narrow cot. To have to rely upon others is galling even under the present circumstances. "That is, if you can answer a couple of simple questions." Ah. There is a 'catch'. "Go on." "Why'd you fire Ric Lansing? Not that I mind y'understand. But until you showed up he was suposed to become one of my ADAs and that kinda got put on hold for a day or two 'cause he decided he 'had' to represent you. Y'might say I'm understandably curious." "You should ask him." "He said it was an 'attack of conscience'....since he'd dumped you the night you supposedly died and all... But I dunno. I mean it sounds perfectly plausible on the surface but somethin's fishy," Scott replied, his gestures indicating the level of his frustration at being uninformed. And Scorpio refused to tell you what we discussed. "I have no idea what motivates Mr. Lansing to do anything, Mr. Baldwin." "So why'd you fire him?" "Because Alexis agreed to represent me." "That's another thing that's pretty fishy. Last I heard she was claiming you set her up to take the fall for trying to frame Ashton. As I remember it she was pretty mad. At you. What changed?" Stefan frowned as if thinking about what he would say for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "I am afraid that falls under attorney-client priviledge, Mr. Baldwin." Scott nodded as if it all made sense suddenly. "Ahhhh I see. So you're blackmailing her now. Aintcha." "I have never found the need to coerce Alexis into doing anything. Certainly not by those means." "Aw, c'mon now Cassadine! Who do you think you're foolin' here. I'll tell you: you're not foolin' anyone with this 'I'm so innocent' act." Alexis' voice emerged from the corridor. "DA Baldwin, if you are quite finished interrogating my client, illegally I might add as I was not informed nor present...." Scott Baldwin stepped aside. "Ahhhhh keep your shirt on Alexis: your brother wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know." Baldwin sounded extremely irritated and Stefan had to fight an uncharacteristic smirk. Upstairs an hour later, dressed in the clothing Alexis brought for him, Stefan finished signing the paperwork, then handed the clipboard back to the desk sergeant and turned to where Alexis was waiting patiently. As they walked from the police station into the chill late afternoon air, Alexis gestured toward the waiting limousine. "Nikolas is waiting for us," she said as Stefan noticed Lucky Spencer's approach. He was in uniform and appeared to be going on shift. "I can't believe you're working with him," Lucky said to Alexis after pausing and staring at Stefan for a moment with undisguised hatred. "I can't believe that you don't believe the information I know Nikolas shared with you," she replied. Stefan decided to stand back and watch the two of them argue. He regretted that Lucky was disbelieving the truth at the present time: his mind insisting on flashing back to the several interactions they had had over the last seven years. Seen with that perspective he could well understand Lucky's reluctance to believe anything about the present circumstance. "...Believe it when I see the new autopsy report. After all the burns could have been faked." Alexis sighed. "Ask your aunt. She'll tell you, just as she told me, that the burns were real, and potentially life-threatening. Or are you suggesting that Bobbie can be bought by anyone?" Lucky sighed. "Okay, okay. I'll ask Aunt Bobbie." His watch beeped. "I'm going to be late. I'll talk to you later, okay?" Alexis nodded and then they waited until Lucky went inside before walking over to the car. Nikolas was waiting for them in his suite at the Port Charles Hotel. He rose when they entered, but did not walk forward to greet them. Except for a glance at Alexis, Nikolas kept his eyes on Stefan, his expression neutral. Stefan found himself appreciating the nuances of the performance, but he would not succumb to them, at least not yet. Nikolas might be The Prince now, but he was still the boy Stefan had raised and thought of as his own for years before the DNA tests, whether or not they had been doctored. He fully intended to be in a less inferior position by the end of this meeting. Stefan stopped two paces from his nephew. "Nikolas." Nikolas lifted the file he had been holding at his side. "This tells me you are in fact a Cassadine," he said. "We are still waiting for a report regarding the body." "I see. And the information I gave to Mac Scorpio? The contacts in the monastery outside Orvieto?" "Inconclusive. Fr. Sebastian is on a retreat and will not be back until tomorrow. They claim not to have anyone qualified to be their spokesman in the interrim." Stefan nodded. He is likely quite dead by this point. Damn her.... "Very well." "We are still investigating your kidnapping." "I understand. What would you have of me in the meanwhile?"