Chapter XXXVIII

Con un cavallo
Vanno avanti
In questa grande
Oscurita

With a horse they progress
Through this immense
Darkness

Paris, France

"Good-bye, Madame Jeunet. We'll see you next Friday." Robin watched the social worker walk down the spiral staircase, heaving a sigh of relief as she left. It had been over four months since Max had officially been in her guardianship and yet these visits still made her nervous.

'What if they think he's not happy here? They still have the power to take him away from me." It would be a full year until he was truly hers, until she had the right to change his name to Scorpio and until she would no longer have to endure these weekly visits.

She went into Max's room and sat down on the bed next to him. A picture of her parents stood on his bedside table. Robin wondered if the social worker wouldn't find that odd.

"Did the lady say anything about the fact that the only picture you have in your room is a picture of my parents?" Robin wasn't supposed to discuss these visits with him, but she didn't care. She had to know how it went.

"She asked me why I had that picture in my room," Max admitted.

"And what did you say?"

"I told her you made me put it there."

Robin looked at him in horror, "Max? You didn't..."

Then she saw his dark eyes light up with mischief.

"Oh you devil, don't you joke about this. This is serious stuff! Do you want to end up back in that orphanage? "

He laughed as she pushed him down on the bed. "No…I hated it there. But that woman, she asks me silly questions, Robin. She thinks I'll say something bad about you. I guess she doesn't know that I love you…"

She looked at him in astonishment, her anger and anxiousness gone. "What did you say?" It was the first time he'd said the words and, now that she heard them, Robin thought her heart would stop. She had gotten used to telling him she loved him, because it was the truth and she wanted him to know it. They were the last three words she whispered to him every night before tucking him in. Yet he'd never said the same to her. Until just now.

He smiled back at her, "You know what I said." He turned around, easing his way out of her grasp, ending up on his stomach, looking at the photograph. His expression suddenly became serious again, "I told her I have the picture here because it's a picture of my Mum."

"Ah…Max, we talked about this." She wondered what the social worker would think about his fantasies. Maybe she wouldn't be as quick to rationalize and accept them as Robin did. Maybe she would think he needed psychiatric evaluation.

Max saw Robin's anxious expression. "It's okay, Robin. She didn't believe me either. But I want you to believe me. I'm not wrong."

"Max…we're not going to talk about this anymore. It's pointless because what you're telling me is just not possible. My mom died before you were born. I explained this to you."

She looked at his disappointed face and gave him a poke in his side, to let him know she wasn't angry. "I'll tickle you..."

"I know why you don't want to believe me, but I know I'm not wrong." He gave her a lopsided smile. "I still love you though."

He never ceased to amaze her, both with his powers of perception and his cleverness. Only last week his teacher had told her she couldn't believe that a few months ago he didn't speak a word of French. He had soaked up the language like a sponge, and nowadays he often mixed the two languages together when he spoke to Robin at home.

Robin had a son who was smart, funny and gentle. How in the world did she get so damn lucky? Granted, she was a little biased. But it was the truth. Max was all of the above. And more.

"That reminds me, Max. I don't even know how old you are," Robin pointed out.

Since he hadn't given anyone a date, they'd simply assigned him a birthday at the orphanage. According to them, he would turn eight on December 3rd of this year, but Robin was certain that date would make him younger than he truly was. He had to be eight already, maybe even nine or ten, given his intellectual capacity.

Max gave her a puzzled look, "I don't know."

Max wrinkled his nose. It was true. He didn't know. He was sure there had been seven candles on his last birthday cake. He also remembered that the cake was chocolate. Delicious, smooth chocolate with chocolate icing on top. He also remembered that they had been at a restaurant where his mother only took him on special occasions. Heidi had been there with them, and so had his friends Liam and Roger.

But unlike his real name, which he did remember and simply wouldn't ever tell anyone, not even Robin, he honestly couldn't remember the day on which his birthday fell. "I don't know," he repeated. "I know it was warm and sunny on my last birthday."

Robin looked at him, thinking as she did, "Hmm…it's warm and sunny today." She looked at the racecar calendar that hung on the wall and marked a large 'x' on today's date, grinning at Max. "How about it? You in the mood to celebrate?"

Max grinned back at her, "Sure."

"Ice cream and a movie?"

He nodded in agreement, "Yeah."

She hugged him and kissed his smiling face, "Happy Birthday, Max."

She took his hand and closed the window on his room, "Besides, it's better to have your birthday in the spring or summer. That way we won't look weird walking down the street having ice cream. From now on, I'll make sure you remember the date."

Grosvenor House Hotel, London, England

Together, Sanjay, Monica and Alex walked along the plush carpets of the hallway that housed the grand ballroom where the gala festivities were about to begin.

The five-star hotel boasted the largest ballroom in Europe, called simply The Great Room, and tonight no expense was spared in the decoration of its already lavish interior.

"Everything is donated," Sanjay explained to Alex. "From the rental of the ballroom, to the food, the decor and the flowers…it's all in the name of medical research."

Hundreds of guests, wearing gowns and jewellery that, if donated, would probably be able to support decades of future research all on their own.

Alex heard the clinking of champagne glasses and forced laughter as she glanced around the room, in awe at the sheer opulence that surrounded them. Everyone was dressed to the nines and looked like a million dollars.

Sanjay started to mingle as soon as they entered the room. His ready smile and laid-back nature made him a favourite target for all those who believed that the exorbitant price of admission entitled them to voice their opinion on any subject at hand, including that of how Sanjay should be doing his job.

Alex suddenly felt uncomfortable and painfully out of place. She had gone out of her way to avoid others in the last seven months and as a result she barely knew her co-workers much less those who were involved in the leadership of the hospital. In fact, as she looked around the room, she realized there wasn't a single face she recognized.

'Why would Watson pick me for this?' she thought to herself. 'No one even knows me. Who in the world is going to bid thousands of dollars for a dinner and dance with me?'

The realization suddenly hit her, like a lightning strike. 'Unless of course he chose me precisely for that reason.' What could be a worse embarrassment than standing on a stage waiting, in vain, to be bid on?

'Would he really do that? Would he waste a perfectly good opportunity for a serious bid, to teach me a lesson in humility?' Alex asked herself. 'Of course he would,' she answered her own question. 'It's Watson.'

Her cheeks blushed a crimson red, as she grabbed Sanjay's arm. "I don't think I can do this," she told him.

"Are you nervous? Don't worry, Monica and I will chaperone you if that bald old man with the facial tic over there places the winning bid."

"It's not that…I think I figured out why Watson put me on that list."

Sanjay grinned, "He put you on that list because you're one of the most beautiful women on staff."

"Sanjay, stop it. That's not it…I think he knows there isn't a soul in here who would bid for me. That's why he chose me."

Sanjay shook his head in disbelief, "Alexandra, you're nervous and it's making you irrational. You did look in the mirror before we left, didn't you? You look incredible tonight. Nobody's going to care whether they know you, or not? Mind you, if you introduced yourself as Alexandra Devane, you could rectify that problem…"

"Sanjay…listen to me..." He wouldn't even consider what her instincts already knew was true.

He didn't let her finish, handing her a glass of red wine instead, "Drink this. It'll calm your nerves."

At the same time as Alex tried to reason with her colleague, Dimitri Marick entered another section of the ballroom.

He surveyed the scene, indifferent to the lavishness of his surroundings. 'How will I ever find her in this crowd?' he thought. 'What if she's not here?'

"Dimitri Marick? Is that really you?"

Dimitri turned around to see a face that looked only vaguely familiar. He had to strain his memory to remember the name that belonged to it. 'Not just the name…the title,' he thought with a wry smile.

"Baron Heinrich Von Rechtshausen…" Dimitri managed in the nick of time, recognizing the insignia the man displayed on his tuxedo jacket.

The heavyset man with the thinning, blonde hair immediately draped his arm around Dimitri, "How long has it been my friend? The Queens Plate was the last time I saw you, wasn't it?"

Dimitri managed a laugh, "Indeed. I remember it very well now, watching my horse trying to catch up to yours on the track."

"Has is really been that long? You don't look a day older, Dimitri."

"You're flattering me, Heinrich."

"There's someone I want you to meet. My wife, Katerina."

Dimitri noticed a blonde woman move towards them. It wasn't the same brunette the Baron had introduced as his wife the last time Dimitri had seen him. This woman was at least twenty years his junior. She would have been beautiful were it not for a pair of lips that were unnaturally large for her delicate face. Dimitri kissed her hand, noticing too that her eyes were glazed. "Your Highness, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Dimitri had a talent for making others, women in particular, feel as though they were the only person in the room when he spoke to them. As a result, the Baron's wife eyed him with instant interest.

"Heinrich, darling, you must ask the Count to join us at our table." Dimitri noticed her speech was slightly slurred when she spoke.

"No, really. I couldn't impose," Dimitri protested.

The German Baron put his arm around Dimitri's shoulder, "Katya's right. You must join us. You and your date of course."

"In that case, it will just be me."

The Baron's wife smiled in response, tilting her head flirtatiously, as the three of them moved towards a round table.

Near the main doors of the Great Room, a scowling man with shoulder length gray hair also made his way into the room. He wore a black coat and tails, over a crisp, white Valentino shirt, highlighted with a pair of diamond-studded cufflinks.

Cesar Faison found out about the ball only hours before, as he sat in First Class of the Sabena jet that had taken him from Antwerp to London. The man seated next to him, a Belgian bank owner, had mentioned he was flying to London just for one night in order to attend the Gala.

Normally Faison detested small talk with a passion, but at the mention of the name St. Bartholomew's, his eyes had lit up. He had asked the man the same question Dimitri had posed to the hotel concierge only hours earlier, "Is it possible to get tickets?"

The man had given Faison a thin-lipped smile, "I'm afraid not. It's by invitation only."

In return, Faison had given the man a frown that let him know their conversation was now over. And when he got up to use the airplane restroom, Faison had reached deep into the man's jacket pocket and removed a pair of tickets from them.

'I'll consider this my invitation,' he had thought, smirking, as the man returned to his seat.

Once in London, Faison had his own name imprinted on the ticket, and, now at last, he was in the same room as the woman he had waited so long to meet.

An eager young waiter offered him a glass of champagne. Faison took it and then sat down at the nearest table he saw, not bothering to check whether the seat was already occupied.

An elderly mustachioed man already seated at the table, held out his hand to Faison. "Sir Charles Livingston. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Faison reluctantly returned the handshake. The gesture meant he had to partake in idle conversation once again. Could there be an activity he loathed more? Maybe getting his teeth pulled without anasthesia. But it was a tough call. "Cesar Antoine, Compte de Faisoneuve," he replied, indifferently.

The man looked at Faison with interest, "Faisoneuve…how odd. I'm quite familiar with the houses of French nobility and I must confess I've never heard of yours."

Faison's frown deepened. Leave it to his luck to sit next to a nobility snob who would question his alias. "The Faisoneuve estate is near the Swiss border. High in the French Alps. It's a well established noble family. Very, very old."

"I assume you're related to the Valcourts of Evian-les-Bains then?"

Faison shot the old man an impatient look, hoping it would cease the conversation, "No."

And with that look, Sir Livingston decided, once again, that his own countrymen were infinitely more civil than those ill-mannered continentals. He said nothing more as he turned his attention away from the unpleasant Frenchman and towards the old, heavily perfumed woman that sat at his other side.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the room, Alex had finished the glass of wine and felt no less apprehensive than she did before Sanjay had pressed into her hand.

"Sanjay, I have a bad feeling about this…" She didn't have the chance to finish her sentence, when the sound of a bell rang throughout the room.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Please take your seats as the moment you've been waiting for has arrived! Twenty-five of the most beautiful, brilliant and accomplished staff members of St. Bartholomew's are about to belong to one of you for one night only!"

'Evening', Alex thought nervously. 'One evening. Not one night.'

The announcement was followed by a loud round of applause and, slowly, everyone moved to their tables.

Sanjay gave Alex a push. "You should go to the back of the stage."

"I really don't want to do this…"

"Alexandra, you have no reason to be nervous!" he reassured her. "It's all for a good cause and even if you end up with a leering old duke or worse, you'll at least be guaranteed an excellent meal." Twenty-five of London's top restaurants had donated a dinner for two this evening and a host of limousine companies had offered their vehicles to take the auctioned pairs to their destinations.

It was no use arguing with Sanjay, Alex decided. 'After everything I've been through, what does this really matter?' she asked herself. 'If I end up embarrassed on that stage, all I have to do is close my eyes and think of Max.'

She had already lost everything worth losing. Her dignity wasn't much by comparison.

"You're right, I'm being silly," she finally conceded, not caring any longer.

Sanjay kissed her cheek, "You are. Now go and get our department the highest bid of the night."

Dimitri watched the auction unfold with interest, ignoring the fact that the Baron's wife's leg accidentally brushed against his, more than once, beneath the table.

The twenty-five staff members were to be auctioned off alphabetically and there was a loud round of applause when one of the hospital's foremost researchers, a woman by the name of Sophie Atkinson walked onto the stage to begin the auction.

Not much later there was an even louder cheer when a strikingly good looking physiotherapist by the name of Raoul Fernandez garnered a bid of nearly two million British pound. The winning bidder, Trixie Tripson, was a thoroughly delighted red-haired socialite. After each successful bid, the winner went up to the stage and had the option of requesting a song from the orchestra, before proceeding to dance with their new acquisition.

Katerina Von Rechtshausen laughed at Ms. Tripson's choice of the Rolling Stones 'Satisfaction.'

"I bet she's very satisfied right now," she pointed out to Dimitri. The room erupted in laughter as her dance with the physiotherapist became more heated with each step they took.

"Are you going to place a bid tonight, Dimitri?" Katerina asked him. "It would a shame if you left here alone."

"Maybe." His heart suddenly skipped a beat when he saw Alex walk onto the stage. Katerina asked him another question, but he didn't hear it.

Several tables away, Cesar Faison too, took a deep, elated breath as he finally saw Alexandra Marick standing mere meters away from him. Faison had seen photos of her and knew she was as beautiful as Anna and yet, the way the garnet jewels in her hair glistened in the stagelights and the way the thin fabric of her dress wrapped itself around her slim frame, took his breath away.

"Our next member of staff up for bids is the lovely Alexandra Marick. A recent acquisition for St. Bartholomew's, Dr. Marick works as an intern in the Emergency Room of the hospital. Should your heart fail as you share a dance with her, she will most certainly revive it for you."

There was a round of laughter across the room, but Sanjay Singh raised his eyebrows incredulously, "An intern?" he asked Monica. "Who made up that introduction?" The answer dawned on him even before he finished asking the question. 'Watson. Of course.'

Monica gave him a worried glance in return. She knew that if Alex were to correct the announcer it would make her look petty. So Monica correctly guessed that she wouldn't.

On the other end of the room, Katerina glanced at Dimitri, "She has the same name as you, Dimitri. Isn't that odd? Maybe she's Hungarian too." She emptied her glass of champagne in one smooth sip. "She'd be pretty if she were a little...bigger." She giggled, "If you know what I mean."

"Do we have an opening bid?" the announcer asked the room, and the silence that followed was longer than it had been for any previous staff member.

This time it was Sanjay who panicked. "Why is no one bidding on her?" he asked his wife, "What is wrong with these people?"

"Do you think Alex was right?" she asked him, "Do you think Watson could have something to do with this?"

Her question was answered when she heard the Chief of Staff himself place the opening bid.

"Two hundred."

It was the lowest opening bid of the evening by far and Sanjay cringed when he heard it. "So that's the plan," he told Monica. "Watson somehow makes sure no one bids on her, so that when he does, he'll come up looking like the kindly rescuer of a damsel in distress."

"We have to do something," Monica told him. "You place a bid."

Sanjay stared at her in disbelief, "Bid against Watson? Are crazy? He'll have my head."

Monica gave her husband an annoyed look, "My dear, you picked this woman's brain for months now. You owe her at least that much."

"But what will it look like, if I'm here with you and bid on another woman?"

"Oh for God's sake, I could care less what this looks like. What Watson is doing is terrible." She raised her husband's bidding paddle for him, before he had any further chances to protest.

"One thousand!" Monica shouted.

On the stage, Alex saw what Sanjay and Monica were doing and their efforts made her smile. Yet, at the same time she wished she could tell Sanjay not to bother. 'This is not worth losing your job over, my friend. If Watson wants to play this game, let him,' she thought, oblivious to the whispers in the room. She closed her eyes and pictured Max, looking at her with his warm, dark eyes.

"They're so silly, Mum. Don't be sad. They're not playing fair."

Watson glared at Sanjay and raised his own bid, "Two thousand!"

Monica nudged her husband, "Looks like it's your turn again."

"Darling, I shouldn't do this…"

And for the second time it was Monica who raised his bidding paddle for him. "Three thousand!"

"Four," was Watson's reply.

"Five," was Monica's.

Dimitri watched the bidding with interest, wondering who was bidding for her and knowing it didn't matter who placed the last bid. Regardless of how high it was, he would go higher.

Watson gave Sanjay a look that let him know he had gone as far as Watson would tolerate. "Six!"

"I don't think I should go any further," Sanjay told his wife. Tiny beads of perspiration had formed on his dark forehead, and he wiped them off with a shaking hand. "We tried."

"Is that the final bid?" the announcer asked after a moment of silence, when suddenly, from the rear of the room, he heard a voice announce, "Seven!"

"The bidding continues…"

Faison had waited until the bids were high enough to allow him a final bid and countered Dimitri's bid with his own, "Eight!"

Dr. Watson wanted to look around in order to see who would be so audacious as to try to outbid him. Didn't they know who he was? He raised his own paddle again, "Nine!"

At the same time, Dimitri stood up.

"Do we have ten thousand?" the announcer asked.

"No…but I do need to make a correction on my last bid," Dimitri announced.

Alex strained to see who was placing the other bids, but both men were too far away.

"Sir, you wish to retract your bid of seven thousand?" the announcer asked.

Dimitri didn't want to play this game. All he wanted was to have Alex in his arms, without further ado. Patience had never been his strong suit. "No, I want to correct it. There was a misunderstanding, I didn't mean seven thousand. I meant seven million."

There was a collective gasp in the room as everyone turned around to look at the mystery bidder, stanging near the rear of the room.

Faison's hands balled into two angry fists. He had been outbid, far beyond what he could reasonably spend tonight. Sir Livingston watched his reaction with amusement, until Faison offered him his vilest look yet. He took one of the roses on the table and squashed it in his hand. Then he got up and started to leave.

'You might have won, today Dimitri,' he seethed. 'But there is always tomorrow.' It was his final thought as he stormed out the door.

The announcer's voice choked as he verified the bid, "Seven million pound is your bid, sir. Is that correct?"

Dimitri nodded wordlessly, calmly taking in the sea of eyes that focused on him, including Katerina's whose jaw had dropped in shock. The Baron laughed in delight, "Dimitri, my friend, you never fail to make an evening memorable, do you?" He stood up and applauded loudly, leading the rest of the room to do the same, as everyone, with the exception of Dr. Watson, stood up, and, one by one, offered him a thunderous standing ovation.

Alex's hands shook when she heard the reaction to the bid.

'Could it really be him…?' she wondered.

The applause continued as Dimitri made his way across the room. There was something regal in his stride. It would have made others on the room take notice of him, regardless of whether or not he had placed the highest bid of the night.

When Alex could finally make out who it was, she moved a hand to her mouth in shock.

Of all the applauding guests in the room, no one clapped louder than Sanjay.

Monica laughed, "This is so great! But who is that man?"

Sanjay shrugged his shoulders, still clapping, "I have no idea."

The announcer shook Dimitri's hand as he made his way onto the stage, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have not only a new record bid for the evening but a new record bid in the history of St. Bartholomew's Galas! Sir, if you would be so kind as to introduce yourself."

Dimitri turned to Alex with a smile.

"My name Dimitri. Dimitri Marick," he answered him. At the mention of the name, the already deafening roar of applause became louder still, as most of the women in the room drew the same conclusion.

"It's her husband," Sanjay suddenly realized.

Alex felt tears running down her cheeks, as Dimitri walked towards her.

"God, I missed you so much," he said softly, oblivious to everyone else in the room. "You have no idea how much."

"Yeah, I do... "

He wrapped his arms around her, wondering how he had ever been able to live without her. Everything about her felt like it was a part of him. Her scent, her touch, her smile, her tears. He used to wonder what others meant when they claimed to have found someone who completed them. But now he knew.

Alex was his other half. In every sense of the word. And, for the first time in a long time, he felt whole again.

"You're so beautiful."

Alex wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, not sure whether to believe what was happening. That Dimitri was really here. In her arms.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Count Andrassy." His touch ignited something in her, and for the first time in months she felt alive. Alive. Awake. Loved. "But Dimitri... seven million, for a dance? That's a bit much, isn't it?"

He smiled, relishing the moment as he pulled her closer. Close enough to feel the rapid beating of her heart against his.

"You think? You're a good dancer, aren't you?"