Release
Author: Cate
Summary: A Cassadine fic set during Alexis' childhood in Greece. My speculation about her relationship with both of her brothers, especially Stavros. Rating is for implied incest and rape, but I can guarantee it isn't what you're thinking.
Rating: R, though there's nothing too explicit. There might be some self-injury later on that could get a little graphic, but I'll keep it to a minimum.
Disclaimer: I don't own Alexis, Stavros, Stefan, Mikkos, Helena, or any other familiar faces that may or may not turn up. I certainly don't have anything to do with the steaming pile of shit that currently is General Hospital, so don't blame me.
Author's Note: As always, I crave reviews. I'm not just fishing for compliments here, I really want to know what you think about this. Please tell me, and be honest. I'll give you a cookie.
It was late. Technically, it was early, but either way Stefan's room was pitch black. He was sound asleep, but his eyes snapped open at the faint sound of someone coming in through the entrance to the tunnels. Before he could get his bearings, his young cousin, Alexis, crawled onto his bed and curled up tightly next to him.
She was sobbing, shivering. Small. Stefan put his arms around her. Something was wrong. She was wet... sticky. He reached over her to pull the chain on his bedside lamp, and blinked in the sudden light before realizing that the substance she was covered in was blood. Her own? He wasn't sure. It was in her hair, on her hands, her arms, her legs. It was smearing all over his bare chest, but he continued to hold her, giving her time to compose herself before he asked her to speak, to tell him what happened. From far away they heard a crash; Stefan didn't think he would have noticed it at all if Alexis hadn't dug her fingernails into his arm at the sound. A few moments and an explained noise or two later, his brother Stavros burst into the room the same way that Alexis had quietly come in. His hair was tousled; his eyes even more maniacal than usual. There was blood on his hands, clearly fresh, and Stefan jumped immediately to the conclusion that it belonged to their cousin.
He lept from the bed and pummelled his brother, who, clearly worn out from his most recent struggle, easily fell to the ground. "What did you do to her?" Stefan demanded, and aimed to strike Stavros, who blocked the shot and caught Stefan's fist.
"I defended her," Stavros declared, panting as he rose to his feet, "While you, little brother, were in here getting some much-needed beauty sleep, not that it's helped. She didn't tell you what happened, did she? Well, here's the condensed version. The son of Father's latest oh-so-important diplomat houseguest decided to take certain liberties with our little cousin, entirely against her will. I can't imagine why, I mean, she's such a plain little thing, but at any rate, I've disposed of him." Without bothering to take notice of his brother's horror, Stavros turned to Alexis. "You can stop crying now, little mouse," he said cruelly. "He's gone. Be glad that I walked in when I did, or else what would have become of you?"
Alexis didn't respond, so with a smirk Stavros disappeared back into the tunnels. Stefan stared slack-jawed after him for several minutes before he could bring himself to look at his cousin. She was still crumpled in a heap on his bed, a place she'd been many times before. For the first time, he saw here there and thought that she looked small. Fragile. Young.
Of course she looked young. She was fifteen, six years his junior. How often he forgot that. Her large brown eyes always seemed so old, so worn down, and yet so wise. Now, however, she looked at him, and all he could see in them was fear.
"Would you like me to help you get cleaned up?" he asked her, suddenly aware of the various wounds that might need tending to. She nodded, and he went into the bathroom to fill the tub for her. She sat up on the bed and watched as he did this, following his every movement. Finally, he returned to free her of what remained of her silk nightgown, and carried her gently to the tub. If she was in pain, she showed no sign of it as he gently washed her. She never flinched when he made contact, which he took as a good sign, but she never spoke either, and that frightened him. He'd seen her like this only once before, when Mikkos first brought her to the island just after the deaths of her parents. She'd been about four then, and though his father had assured the family that no harm had come to the child, it had been obvious that she'd been traumatized somehow. It had been Stefan's care that had brought her around the first time. Surely he could help her now?
He drained the water and wrapped her in his robe, doing his best to wipe away the tears that were still streaming from her eyes. She had such an exquisite face, even when she wore such a broken expression; he didn't know where Stavros got off calling her "plain." He picked her up again, and she nestled comfortably against his shoulder. It broke his heart sometimes, the way she trusted him. "I'm so sorry, Alekseevna," he said, placing her on the chaisse in the corner. He knelt down beside her and whispered, "I should have protected you better, I should have made sure that this never could have happened." She stared so blankly at him that he couldn't even be sure she was listening, but he leaned in anyway and promised, "Nobody will ever hurt you this way again."
She didn't respond. He hadn't quite expected her to, but it was disappointing all the same. With a sigh, he left her for a moment to get fresh sheets. Alexis stared at the same spot on the wall the entire time he was gone. Her gaze remained fixed as he remade the bed, and even when he put her on it. It wasn't until he lay down next to her that she finally closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him like a teddy bear or a security blanket. He settled down beside her, letting her know that he was near, and watched as she finally drifted off, exhausted. He was tired, too. That didn't matter. His brother's words echoed painfully in his ears, and Stefan took them to heart. He should have been the one protecting her, not Stavros. It wouldn't happen again. He'd watch her every second if he had to, and he would keep her safe.
Stefan did not go back to sleep that night.