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The
Road Trip Series Journey's End - Part 1 "Edelweiss" Cameron gnawed distractedly at his lower lip. "You're certain it was edelweiss?" She nodded. "I had a flashback. I was with my Father and we went up the mountain to pick it." "Did you notice anything else?" "There was a large lake with crystal water that reflected the sky and a grove of trees. There was nothing more except my Father speaking to me." "What did he say?" "He was telling me the legend of edelweiss..." Cameron was surprised. "There's a legend? I always thought it was just a pretty flower they sang about in The Sound of Music." She smiled. "You really need to read something other than those musty old psych journals. The legend says if a man brings one to a woman it signifies true love because it grows off the beaten path and is hard to find. He said that our home was there because he could gather some every day to remind my Mother of his love for her." "I'm learning that your Father, despite Luke's attempt at demonizing him, was quite the romantic. I think I would like to have known him… such a paradox." "He was many things, Cameron, at different times in his life but Luke is right about one thing. At the end of his life he descended into madness and became evil, uncaring and ruthless." He hugged her to him. "Well, you are beginning to remember. Just take it slow and don't get frustrated. Your mind will open those hidden passages on its own schedule, not yours." She sighed heavily. "The question is will that be enough time?" * * * The plane landed on an airfield in the middle of nowhere. Referring to this dusty pock-marked landing strip as an airfield was giving it the highest compliment but Cameron didn't care as long as they arrived without the need for parachutes. The plane taxied to a stop and a man strolled out from a small building tucked into the trees and waited at the edge of the landing area next to two SUVs with darkened windows. "Well, folks, we're here," Jerry said as he picked up a bag and headed to the entry door. "And where exactly is here?" Luke asked, stashing a fifth of bourbon in his duffle bag before he threw it over his shoulder. He retorted, "Thought you'd recognize it Luke. A bit off the beaten track, a place where questions aren't asked if you make it worth someone's while. The kind of place I'm sure you've used on any number of occasions." Alexis stared out the window at the misty English countryside as Jerry inquired softly, "This is as far as my directions from Jax go. Cars are waiting to take us where needed." Cameron picked up Kristina and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the tip of his nose before settling contentedly into his arms. He looked down at Alexis and could see her hands shake ever so slightly as she clasped them in her lap. This was going to be the hardest thing she ever did, harder than fighting off Luis Alcazar, harder even than fighting for her daughter. She was going to confront perhaps her most relentless demon, the one that scarred her life in childhood and which no matter how far she has come haunts her still. He asked gently, "Alexis, where do we go from here?" She looked up into his warm brown eyes and smiled hesitantly. But rather than answer she glanced at Luke and nodded as she turned her head back to the window. He nodded in understanding and said, "Folkestone." Zander frowned and caught his father's eye. How did Luke know where they were going? Cameron shrugged at his son's silent question and was interested to know the answer himself. More mysteries and secrets that connect Luke and the woman he loves. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked down at Mrs. Lansbury. "Yes, Mrs. Lansbury?" She motioned for him to lean down and she whispered, "You take the little miss and I'll take care of Miss Alexis." He saw the earnest concern in her eyes and nodded. "Of course, I'll get Kristina settled in the car." He looked longingly at Alexis just one more time and walked out of the plane. She turned to the older woman and sighed, a hundred different thoughts running through her mind. "I know I must do this. But I'm more frightened than I've ever been, more frightened of what I will find than what I will not in that house." She took the younger woman's cold hands in her warm ones and held them. "You will find what you are meant to, Miss Alexis. Life leads us to places and times that test our will. You, my dear, have been tested since you were a child and each test has only made you stronger. You could not have survived growing up on the island, making a life outside of the family or fighting for your daughter if you didn't have the strength to face down your fears. You are very much your Father's daughter… the same fearlessness and intensity I remember well." Alexis thought about that for a minute and shook her head. "My Father would not be proud of the things I did this past year since Kristina was born, things that caused me to lose her for nearly a year. He was fearless… I remember his ferocity when it came to facing down his enemies… but I'm not fearless and he would not be pleased at the complications in my life since I killed Luis Alcazar." "As a man whose own complications ultimately destroyed him, he would understand what you did and the necessity for doing it. He had his vulnerabilities just like you but it was the way he faced life, either for good or bad, that set him apart from other men." Alexis raised an eyebrow in cynical response. "It is hard to imagine Mikkos Cassadine having any vulnerability except perhaps his skewed belief in his own immortality." Mrs. Lansbury pursed her lips. "You never asked me how Mr. Mikkos and I came to be so close." Alexis looked at her curiously. "I'll admit I've wondered but being a private person myself, I assumed you chose to keep private your history with my Father." The older woman smiled. "It is private but not a secret… to you. I saved his life when we were both very young." "You saved my father's life?" she asked incredulously, trying very hard to imagine the great and powerful Mikkos Cassadine in a circumstance he could not conquer on his own. Mrs. Lansbury looked away into the past, to a day her mind would never forget. "My parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was 10 years old and I was sent to stay on the island with my Mother's sister who worked as a maid in the Cassadine house. One day I was wandering along one of the paths skirting the woods near the cliffs when I saw a horse roaming around, saddled but without a rider. I ran after him but he galloped away before I could catch him. I didn't see anyone so I kept walking deeper into the woods. Up ahead I heard a moan and found the boy I'd seen a few times since I'd arrived and who my aunt referred to as the young Prince. I laughed and said he couldn't possibly be a prince for princes were blonde and wore crowns, my love of fairytales at odds with the sullen dark-haired, dark-eyed boy with the improbable title. I ran over to him and saw that he was bleeding from his leg and asked if I could help him. He looked up at me like I was a peasant and quite haughtily told me to go away, that he was fine. I argued that he was bleeding so he obviously wasn't 'fine'. Then I noticed a gun on the grass next to him. I looked again at the leg and could see the wound was from a gunshot. I looked into his eyes with surprise and the haughtiness I saw slowly melted into guilt and I knew he'd shot himself. He told me that the gun misfired, he was going hunting and the safety was off, a number of variations on that theme until he fell silent at the accusing look in my eyes. I shouted at him that I lost my parents and life wasn't to be thrown away and what did he want to kill himself for anyway… he was a Prince and could have anything he wanted. I'll never forget the look in his eyes, Miss Alexis, as he started to cry and said that no one listened to him and he didn't want to be a prince. He just wanted to write stories and study the stars and not have to learn about Russian history and be responsible for everyone." "I can't imagine my Father being so desperate as to want to end his life. He was too narcissistic." "Don't forget, my dear, he was just 13 years old and not ready for the burden that destiny laid upon his shoulders. I helped him that day. I took him back to the house and hid him away in the east wing. I found medical supplies, somehow managed to dig out the bullet without fainting and dressed the wound. After that, we went back to our individual lives, mine belowstairs and his above, and never spoke again about what happened in the woods that day. I never told anyone and he came to the conclusion that he could trust me with his secrets. As we grew up and I started working in the house, he would seek me out and talk to me." "About what?" Alexis asked, hushed, still trying to imagine her imposing father taking anyone into his confidence, let alone a servant. "At first ordinary things that you would discuss with anyone - the weather, the olive harvest, the new foal born in the stables. Simple things gave way to questions about my life, his life, responsibility, duty. It was as if I became the one person he could talk to who did not always tell him exactly what he wanted to hear. It was an odd relationship but bonded us together in friendship until the day he died. When he met your mother, I was the one person he could speak to of her and she learned that she could trust me too. I saw the depth of what was between them and the risks and knew that I needed to protect both of them. So you see, Miss Alexis, your father also had his fears and one day long ago I helped him face them. I will do the same for you this day." Alexis stared into the old woman's eyes, the loving concern and belief she saw there buoyed her spirit. She was surrounded by people who loved and cared for her on this journey, people who have helped her many times before. She had to rely on them but more so on herself. She was, after all, her father's daughter. She stood up, hugged Mrs. Lansbury and whispered into her ear. "I'm ready to go home, Mrs. Lansbury." * * * Pure English mist bathed the countryside, its gentle wisps hovering above the land like a twinkling cloud of faerie dust. They drove along ancient roadways forged by conquerors and wizards and kings, passing through countless villages with quaint names like Braebourne Lee, Footscray, Capel-le-Ferne, and Wye, each touched by the timeless essence of antiquity. Alexis felt a hand brush her cheek and glanced at Kristina, her small body struggling in her carseat to reach her Mother. "Sorry, sweetpea, you have to stay there until we arrive. But how about Mommy scoots a little closer," Alexis laughed softly as she leaned her cheek next to her daughter. "I bet you are nervous too. If we hold onto each other we'll both be okay." Kristina rubbed her cheek against her Mother's and babbled away, stroking her hand as if to reassure her that everything would be fine. "Alexis, are you certain this is the right road? We seem to be in the middle of nowhere," Jerry asked as he navigated around yet another crater-sized pothole in the graveled road. "Yes," she replied faintly. Cameron looked at her over his eyeglasses from the front passenger seat, an old tattered map clutched in his hand. "If you've never been back since your Mother died, perhaps you are mistaken." She stared into his eyes as she caressed her daughter's hand. "I've been back." Cameron looked at Jerry who shrugged his shoulders and kept driving. He looked in the side mirror and saw the other SUV on their tail, Luke in the driver's seat. He hoped they were all doing the right thing for Alexis and weren't walking into a trap, either one of someone else's making or their own. He glanced back over his shoulder and found her once again looking out the window in contemplation and wondered at her last comment. * * * "Well there she is, Tash, home and hearth. Well, what are you waiting for…a sign from the good Lord above? Go in!" She frowned at the arched trellis at the entrance to the front garden. It was listing to the left, the remnants of fragrant roses that once twined themselves happily through its scalloped frame just a memory, not even a thorny braid of shoots remained as a reminder of the beauty… and love… that once bloomed in this place. "Luke, do you believe in ghosts?" she whispered as she hung back and stared, her hands nervously gripping the white fence, its painted blistered by time and the elements. "Well, if there are ghosts I guess this would be the place to find 'em. Murder makes for a load of bad mojo." "Sometimes I remember things… about this place… good memories… and then it is as if a ghostly hand swipes them away and all that is left is pain and sadness and… blood," she said shivering in the cold morning. "The reason why ya gotta hold onto the good and force away the bad or it will eat your pretty entrails alive. Frankly, Natasha, speakin' as an observant observer and one who has survived enough of my own bad mojo including your dear old Dad, you've had enough of the bad for one lifetime." She smiled with surprise. "That's a tad philosophical for such a cynical man." He snorted as he dropped his cigar and squashed it with his boot. "Maybe I'm hanging around you too much. So, sweetcheeks, are we going in or are we gonna stand out here freezing off our asses just to admire the view?" She stared at her childhood home as an overwhelming sense of darkness reached out from beneath its boarded up windows making her skin prickle. As that darkness washed over her in undulating waves, she knew she was not ready to walk beneath the trellis and face the pain she found in that house or that which still resided in her heart. Some day perhaps she would have the courage to face her past but not this day. It was too soon after memory punched a hole in her heart and let loose the anguish her mind hid from her since the day her Mother was killed. She turned to her friend, walked over and hugged him. "Thank you for bringing me here, Luke, but not today. Not today." * * * Jerry breathed a sigh of relief as he pointed to a sign creaking in the breeze. "Folkestone." Alexis sat up straighter and in the intake of memory's breath remembered it all. Standing with her Father in the morning sun as he related the history of the parish church, St. Mary & St. Eanswyth, its stone façade as impressive as when it was christened. The vicarage sat within the shadow of the church, a stone's throw from a general mercantile and a store that looked as old as the antiques it sold. She recalled sitting on the floor in the vicarage study playing with King Richard, the vicar's grey tabby, as he sat at tea with her Mother talking about music. They passed the confectionary and her memory was saturated with the scent of chocolate and the praline truffles that Mr. Gimsby, the proprietor, would hand her with an indulgent smile, her love of chocolate a well-known fact in the small village. A dress shop and Mrs. Coxston-Smythe's bookshop made up the remainder of the main street with smaller streets branching off, cottages and houses dotting their narrow lanes and alleyways. All so familiar, she thought as they edged past the last building and headed down the road to the lake. In the other car, Luke saw the sign and remembered the little village filled with oak trees and old buildings. As they drove slowly through what passed for the main street, he remembered the last time he set eyes on this ancient town and the estate that lies in the countryside past its gates. * * * "So, sweetcheeks, are we going in or are we gonna stand out here freezing off our asses just to admire the view?" Alexis walked over and hugged him. "Thank you for bringing me here, Luke, but not today. Not today." He hugged her as he looked over her shoulder at the house, its foundation crumbling into dust as it slowly decayed with the burden of its own rotting memories. He was glad he brought her here but she was right. She would face Rosewood when she was ready and not before. * * * Luke stared at the SUV ahead of them. And, my friend, that day has arrived. * * * The skies darkened as midnight blue clouds tumbled restlessly across the sky as they awaited the storm to come. Cameron followed the clouds with his dark eyes and hoped it wasn't an omen of their future. They drove past ancient oak trees standing sentinel along the narrow lane, their boughs hanging low and rippling in the breeze as if murmuring in prayer. The road was rocky and more than once they were thrown in their seats, Kristina afraid at first then laughing mightily at each bounce. Jerry laughed as he watched in the rearview mirror. "She's a Jacks… she loves an adventure… just like her Mum." Alexis noticed Cameron's frown and quickly interjected, "After the last year I think I've had enough adventure and so has my daughter. Peace and quiet for the next fifty years is my goal." Jerry nodded thinking about everything Jax told him about the last years of Alexis's life. "Well, you always have a home in Alaska with us and I have an island or two that might fit the bill." She saw Cameron's face flushing… it really was quite sweet how jealous he could be… and decided to put an end to the conversation Jerry was enjoying much too much. "We're here." * * * They all stood and stared at the old Tudor house, its nobility evident despite the crumbling façade, its boarded windows hiding the elegance and secrets within. The cornerstone legend stated 1557 and even in a state of abandonment the house pulsed with the weight of history leaving one with the impression that stepping across its threshold would mean a journey into the past. How true, Cameron thought, as the house enveloped his thoughts. Luke walked over and stood next to Alexis. He looked at the house with the jaundiced eye of the skeptic, not swayed by any history written upon its stone face. They had a job to do here and they needed to get it done and get out. The place gave him the creeps, the boarded up windows not quite hiding the smell of death that hovered over its walls. Zander looked at the house and was uneasy. Uneasy that Alexis needed to come here and even more so about what they would find. Luke had told him a few stories about Alexis's past and about her Mother's death, more than Alexis had ever shared and he worried that a runaway train had been set in motion that would eventually flatten them. He looked over at Kristina safely in Mrs. Lansbury's arms and unconsciously stepped closer and put an arm around both of them. Jerry
stood back, his usual stance when surveying a problem. And this
situation most certainly qualified as a problem. Jax was certain
that Helena was going to make another move against Alexis and had
set this entire trip in motion. He felt Alexis was blinded by her
need to fill in the gaping holes of her past and the belief that
her Father was guiding her was out of kilter with her usual rational
common sense. Jax was worried she was being set up for a fall and
her insistence that he not come along did not sit well. Jerry promised
to call at the first sign of trouble but looking at the dour house
in front of him, he hoped he would recognize it quickly enough when
it appeared. "Natasha sweet, come here and hold this bush while I tie it back." "Mama, why do we have roses with so many different colors?" Her Mother laughed lightly as her hands worked expertly to tie back the roses. "Always questions! You are so like your Papa. The color of a rose is its language, child, and each color has a different meaning. The red roses Papa brings say to us "I love you", a white one can mean "I'm worthy of you," or secrecy. Did you ever wonder why this trellis holds both red roses and white and only those?" She shook her head. "No Mama." "That is because red and white roses entwined together signify unity, the white of secrecy and worthiness together with the red of love. This signifies what we are to each other… you, me, your Papa and the baby brother or sister that is growing inside of me. Together, we are love and are loved. Always remember that, Natasha, and it will sustain you." Cameron stepped up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Darling, are you ok? If you changed your mind, we can go…" She shook the voices from her mind and leaned back into his body. "No, I'm fine. I was just remembering a conversation I had with my Mother a long time ago about this arbor." She reached a hand up caressing his cheek before she set her shoulders and walked beneath the arbor up the walkway. She reached the door and had the oddest impression, as if the house was waiting for her to knock to gain permission to enter. "Don't be silly, Alexis, it's just an old house," she muttered nervously as she turned the knob and found it locked. Zander was watching Alexis. "How's she going to get in without a key?" Luke nodded. "Good point, kid. We'll have to break down the door…" They watched her walk over to the sundial that sat in the garden midway between the arbor and the house. She leaned down and felt along the bottom of the dial and smiled triumphantly as she found the hidden compartment holding the key. She walked back, unlocked the door and slipped inside. Cameron sprinted up the walk, his long legs outstripping everyone as he followed her quickly into the house. Alexis walked into the main hall and immediately looked up at the massive chandelier that dominated the massive room. "Papa, won't it fall on me?" "No, my Tasha, it would not dare fall on a princess of the house of Cassadine." "I'm a princess like in a fairytale?" "Even better than a fairytale because a fairytale always ends but the story of the beautiful Princess Natasha will live forever." She smiled at a child's belief in a Father's words and how her life, quite ironically, had been lived not as a princess but as an afterthought in the house of the Wicked Stepmother. She looked around her and shivered. The house was murky, the only light coming from a few broken slats on the boarded windows. "Geez, anybody got a match? Or maybe we can borrow a torch from a passing lynch mob…" Luke grumbled as he fumbled for his lighter. "Here you go." Mrs. Lansbury had disappeared, returning after securing a few shaded oil lamps from the front closet. "Eyes like a cat, eh, Mrs. L?" Luke chuckled as he grabbed two, shook the oil reservoir and lit the wick. "Oh, Mr. Spencer, you would be quite surprised at the skills I possess," the older woman chuckled wickedly as she set about finding more lamps. Luke stared after her. "What the hellfire do you think she meant by that crack?" Cameron tapped him on the shoulder, reaching over and lifting a lamp as he headed toward the living room. "I'd watch my step in dark alleys or even darker islands." Alexis followed Cameron to the living room and caught a hint of scent in the nearly airless room, her Mother's perfume, as light and magical as the voice she shared with the world. She quickly scanned the dusky room looking for the source of the scent but there was no one and nothing but it lingered, like a memory or perhaps a ghost of a memory. She shivered and glanced over to the far wall and gasped. Cameron rushed across the room, immediately concerned. "What is it?" A single tear fell from her eye splashing onto her cheek as she looked up at the painting hanging above the mantel. It was a portrait of the three of them painted before Kristina was born. She recalled complaining to her Mother how uncomfortable her burgundy velvet dress was and couldn't she just go out and ride her pony instead. Her Mother was adamant but it wasn't until her Father spoke to her that she acquiesced. "But what good is a stupid old painting anyway? No one comes here except for the vicar and you and the servants. Who is going to see it?" "Tasha, it is our history. Years from now when we are old, we can look at this painting and remember our family just as we are now, young and happy. We will be captured in time and will never change even if our lives have changed." "You sound so sad, Papa. Why are you sad?" "Because I want things to stay as they are, for Mama to sing her songs, for you to ride your pony and read stories with me and for our lives never to change. Do this for me, child, so we can relive these moments… always." The child in her agreed to please her Father but her heart could still hear the aching sadness in his voice as he tried that day to hold onto what they had, even if only in muted brushstrokes on canvas, as if he knew such happiness was a temptation to Fate. And now her Father's captured memory was destroyed, its canvas ripped by very precise slashes. Jerry and Luke ran in and gasped in shock at the painting as Cameron walked quickly over to stand in front of her as she stared wordlessly at the damaged portrait of her family. "Oh Sweet Mother…" Mrs. Lansbury exclaimed as she caught sight of the painting. Her eyes quickly searched for Zander and Kristina and Jerry leaned down whispering that Zander took her outside to play and the old woman breathed a sigh of relief. She would not want that little girl traumatized by the ghosts of this house as her Mother was. She liked that young Zander very much, almost as much as she liked his Father. Cameron searched Alexis's eyes as they locked on the portrait. "It's only a painting. Obviously Helena left one of her demented messages." She looked from the portrait to his eyes and his heart froze at the pain he saw there, pain hidden for too many years now straining to be released into the light of day. And he wasn't sure she was ready. She whispered so softly he strained to hear, "Why would my Father want me to come here? Did he hate me so much?" She turned and ran out into the hall, gasping for breath as the darkened house began to close in on her. She looked up as a flash of lightning illuminated the second floor landing as it gleamed through the stained glass window at the top of the winding staircase. Her eye caught movement as a blurred outline shifted in the shadows of the alcove. "Who's there?" she whispered hoarsely. The shadow moved stealthily in the darkness, hugging the walls of the landing. "I said who's there?" she whispered louder as she wrapped her arms around her body, the echo of her words magnified by the darkness. The shadow lumbered into view just as another ripple of lightning bathed the landing in light. It was a man. His hair was wild and his beard long and shaggy and grey, like the pictures her Father once showed her of Rasputin, the religious zealot who mesmerized the Russian court. "Leave this place!" a deep voice boomed in Russian. Alexis stared at the man in utter shock, her lungs filling with vacuum as she felt blackness beginning to suffocate her. "Papa?" Her question unanswered, she fainted and dropped silently to the flagstone floor.
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