Place: Montreal

Time: later that night

Tony paused once he stepped onto the landing midway down the staircase. A door leading into the library stood ajar and shadows emanating from the firelight within reflected across the mirrored surface of the paneling in the hallway below him. It was late, long past midnight so he'd expected to have the entire bottom floor to himself though not necessarily looking forward to it. Sitting alone as he nursed a scotch and soda would do little to dispel the remnants of his dream. He'd tried that often enough. And almost any form of companionship would have its appeal right now, even that of his newest relation, though neither Colin nor Shane would be his first choice considering the events of the previous day and so he breathed a thankful sigh upon reaching the doorway.

"When I saw the light, I thought perhaps I'd misjudged Colin's ability to behave himself in polite company."

From all appearances, Gene seemed to have anticipated his arrival and he didn't even raise his head at the sound of Tony's voice. "Were you expecting him to hurl his food or maybe a few utensils across the table?" he asked from his seat in front of the fire where he lounged, his long legs stretched out over the elegant Oriental rug so that his toes rested a matter of inches from the screen.

"Something like that." Tony had located the bar and already had a glass in hand. "Anna figured there was a real possibility we'd have to replace furniture."

And Gene laughed. "No, you're safe enough in that department."

There was no amusement in his tone and indeed he came across sounding preoccupied. "But?"

A pause followed Tony's query and he could tell Gene was weighing the possibilities with a great deal of caution, as though he anticipated traversing a minefield.

"He's ah…well, I suppose curious would be the term, after yesterday's charming little family discussion."

"Curious…what about?" Tony asked, making an effort to keep his irritation under control as he searched behind the bar in vain for a bucket of ice.

"You father."

The hell with the ice, he thought and reached for his drink as he turned slowly around to face Gene. "Tell me he didn't put it that way."

"Not exactly…but he is clever, " Gene reminded him, eyeing Tony and sporting a small quirk of a smile, "so he's put two and two together and come up with the assumption that John's father is…was …the gardener."

Not a tremendous leap under the circumstances Tony thought, stewing silently and cursed himself for allowing his emotions to get the better of him at the time because only his reaction would have pointed Colin in that direction. And his frustration must have been evident.

"You could just tell him," Gene pointed out with a shrug of his shoulder, causing Tony to nearly choke on his scotch.

"No." It erupted with a forcefulness he hadn't intended, and quickly he tried to cover it up with laughter that was equally forced. "I mean, I'd be breaking any number of old, time honored family traditions."

"Such as?" asked Gene, a vein of sarcasm slipping through his normally good-natured and tolerant humor.

"Take your pick." Tony's smile sparkled devilishly but an uncomfortable expression accentuated the dark circles beneath his eyes and he swiftly turned away from his friend's gaze, though he could still feel it as he strode to the fireplace. Leaning his arm against the mantle, he rested his head and stared down into the flames.

"I understand your reservations," came Gene's voice from behind him, "but if you'd learned he was any other DiMera, say Renee's son for instance, would you feel the same way?"

Tony shut his eyes in an effort to block out the images still vivid from his nightmares. "Could you?"

Silence descended, except for a hissing and fly of sparks as a log collapsed into a bed of glowing embers, and then, "He's not his father."

"No," Tony agreed slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the fire. "But that doesn't answer my question."

"I am taking him home with me, back to Haiti…and Calliope, so I'd guess that would be a yes."

"I see."

The chair where Gene sat was placed at just enough of an angle so that he had a partial view of Tony's profile, bathed in amber light and shadow but inscrutable, distant even, as though he were determined to shut out all the pain and the memories this odd state of affairs had driven to the surface but Gene knew better. No matter how badly Tony wanted this mess to disappear, he was far too stubborn to simply walk away. One of the few traits he and Stefano shared, Gene thought as he watched him straighten up and take a swallow of his drink. Neither man could let go. And Tony…he'd face a bitter end before admitting defeat. There had to be a way to the other side of all the hatred and revenge and endless betrayals, for his children if no one else.

"In that case," began Tony, "I should probably share my…doubts…" He hesitated. "Or suppositions."

"About who?" asked Gene with a frown. "Colin?"

Tony shook his head. "No, they involve my father."

Confusion mixed with curiosity stirred briefly in Gene's face and his look met with a wan smile from Tony who'd taken a seat in the chair next to him.

"Apparently," said Tony, his voice tight, "his friendship with Stefano wasn't nearly as innocent as my mother led me to believe."

"Are you talking about her stories of them growing up together?"

Nodding, Tony took another long swallow from his drink. "And others. And what she told me is true enough as far as it went but I came across some information, or rather, someone wished to acquaint me with facts that I'd never heard before…or suspected. According to Mother," his eyes narrowed in concentration. "My father's personality was as far removed from Stefano's as two men could possibly be; he was considerate, tender and thoroughly disgusted with the way she'd been treated. In fact as she described him, I can hardly imagine him willing to be associated with the family in any manner."

"A paragon of decency."

Tony's gaze turned from the fire to Eugene, a bit surprised but still amused at his friend's sarcasm. "From what I've learned over the years about her marriage, he probably seemed to be everything her husband was not, and she worshipped him. Once he was gone, she truly didn't care about going on, so I find myself hoping that she remained ignorant of the truth." His gaze dropped down to stare at his drink that he held in both hands, elbows resting on his knees. "When his parents died, Stefano was young… merely a child and certainly not involved in the family business, not from boarding school anyhow. Instead, control rested in the hands of two of his elder brothers, one of them being Andre's father." He let this sink in before glancing up to meet Gene's eyes, which had widened noticeably.

"And he ended up broke, ruined…" said Gene, thinking back, "In London, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"And his brother?"

Sinking back into the soft upholstery of his chair, Tony wore an expression Gene had witnessed more often then he cared to remember, one filled with profound disillusionment. It was carved into the lines, deepening the corners of Tony's mouth. No matter how many times he'd been forced to deal the truth of it, the pain each betrayal dredged up made it immediately fresh once again, and brought back that murderous brittle gleam of indignation that boarded on rage lurking in the depths of his eyes.

"Dead."

Gene sucked in a breath. "And you believe Enrico was responsible?"

"Yes, though it appears to have been at Stefano's behest, or with his knowledge."

"My God, how old were they?"

"Pretty young actually, both of them were still in University at the time."

"Both." Gene turned to him wearing an air of skepticism.

The lines around Tony's mouth etched themselves a little deeper. "It seems my father's official job description was no more than a cover. Most people wouldn't expect to find the family's hit man out and about potting daisies."

Gene continued to stare in disbelief for another moment and then squeezed his eyes shut. "Tony…" But there was nothing to say, at least no word that would provide any comfort to such an admission. For Tony to learn his father was no better than the man who'd been responsible for nearly all the misery in his life had to be a blow and one that Stefano no doubt took immense pleasure in revealing to his son. And what of Enrico's other child? Gene's eyes snapped open at this thought and he leaned forward to look at Tony. "That's it."

Raising his eyebrow just a hair, Tony waited.

"John…. Andre's motive for setting him up for your murder in Arimed."

"Maybe," shrugged Tony, "but Andre didn't know about either man's role in what happened or he would never have been a party to any of Stefano's plans and I find it impossible to believe that Stefano would tell him."

"So Stefano is the only one with the information?"

Tony finished his drink and nodded silently.

"Any chance he made it up?"

The snort of laughter that erupted out of Tony was harsh. "Have you ever known Stefano's lies to be so convenient?"

"When you put it that way, no, but I think we both know the lengths he'd go to in order to ruin Enrico's reputation in your eyes." And Gene's attempt drew a grateful, if somber glance from Tony.

"I've been unable to corroborate my father's involvement in that particular incident but there are plenty of others he's tied to, and many of them Shane has just verified for me."

"But if Shane could gain access to the information, why couldn't Andre?"

"Like I said, there was a bit of supposition involved…the links that existed all appear innocent, just like the funds channeled through Enrico's account that paid for John's education but once I was able to give Shane with the other half of the puzzle, the half Stefano provided, he could match events and movements together and we found solutions to incidents that have been, until recently, unexplained."

"So your father really was Stefano's…" Gene bit his tongue before the word could slip out.

"Assassin, yes. Partners in everything apparently," said Tony getting up and heading once more to the bar, "until he made the mistake of getting my mother pregnant."

"Oh lord," and Gene chuckled at the thought that suddenly popped into his head and turning, he looked over at Tony who'd picked up a decanter only to set it back down.

"What?"

"Well, its difficult not to find the irony amusing, at least where John is concerned."

And instantly the sight of John kneeling at Daphne's grave flashed through Tony's mind, along with that look of disgust as Marlena practically drug him away from the cemetery grounds and back to their parked car, and Tony knew a sliver of satisfaction at the thought of what John's reaction would be when he learned about his father. "It may not be justice," Tony said finally after pouring his drink, "but I can't say I won't relish the moment he's forced to come to terms with a legacy that is anything but heroic. Somehow I doubt his response will match the one he's shoved in my face all these years."