DiMera grounds, orchard.
Tony leaned on his shovel and watched Harold who was crouched down in the hole they'd just dug, brushing dirt and flakes of snow from the remains of a body that was supposed to be him. Apparently, Stefano had required some sort of proof. What was left of the guy's face was a dead ringer for him and experience aside, the sight of it gave him chills. Whoever the poor slob was who'd ended up in the grave, he'd been given plastic surgery, which meant, Stefano had planned getting rid of him from the minute Tony arrived back in Salem and Andre had been prepared. Just in case.
"I'm curious, DiMera, " came Steve's voice from behind him where he was watching too, leaned up against a tree trunk, "I mean I know you and your old man had your differences, but this…" he nodded towards the hole, "ain't just about his pride."
"And since when," asked Tony, with only mild curiosity, "do you give a damn about my problems with Stefano?"
He turned a searching gaze at the other man whose features were hidden in the shadows. He was half expecting Johnson to shrug off the implication he'd made with some flippant remark but Steve surprised him.
"Since the day I sat in the back of your cousin's car and realized what he and Stefano pulled off."
Tony shook his head, confused.
"Anna didn't tell you the whole story?" said Steve
"No."
Johnson hesitated a second and then, "it was before John and Marlena went to find you. Once Anna told Roman that the guy she kissed wasn't you, him and Bo figured on doing a DNA test and they needed a sample from Andre."
"And you volunteered." For some reason the idea amused Tony until he remembered what Anna told him about Johnson's first wife and her tie to EJ's mother.
"I did it," Steve corrected him, "because Bo asked."
"And did you come here tonight because Bo asked you? Because it sure as hell wasn't Shane's idea."
That got a chuckle out of the other man, who blithely sidestepped the question. "Him and Hope are rather peeved you didn't trust them, you know. Especially Hope."
"I'll keep that in mind when I see her," said Tony, though in truth, the warning brought back memories that made him smile. "She has plenty of the old girl in her, doesn't she?"
"If you mean, Alice, yeah."
Tony went to turn back to see what Harold was doing but Steve wasn't finished. "You didn't answer my question."
"You want a rational explanation for my father's psychotic behavior?" The question had a definite air of sarcasm, which again didn't seem to faze Steve and he simply asked in return,
"Don't you?"
"Only for the last twenty-five years or so," said Tony, dryly.
"And?"
"What are you after, Johnson?" And when Steve didn't answer right away, he added, "Did you come here tonight hoping to see a DiMera bare his soul for your entertainment?"
"A tempting thought but no," came the reply accompanied by what sounded to Tony like a snort. "I was hoping more along the lines of you sticking it to the old man, it's just that now that I'm out here, I'm starting to get the impression there's a piece of the puzzle missing."
"Of course there is. The whereabouts of my son..."
"Whose roll in this farce wouldn't matter half as much if the old man didn't have you around to witness it."
The words sent a shiver down Tony's spine.
"Don't you have just the tiniest sense," said Steve, his words echoing with the doubts Tony knew he should have recognized, "that you're being played?"
"Me or the man whose ashes are in a box back in the living room?"
"Alright. Both of you." Stubborn silence met this remark and finally, Steve added, "it is Stefano's MO."
Tony couldn't help but see what Steve was trying to tell him and after a fashion, he was right. Stefano was never happier than when he had family to manipulate and that made killing them off rather counterproductive so which one of the scoundrels believed the corpse belonged to him…Andre or Stefano? And if it had only been the former, what did the old bastard have up his sleeve?
"You think this all a show for my cousin's benefit," Tony said, nodding in the direction of the freshly dug grave.
"When has the old man wasted an opportunity to rub your face the mud?"
The chuckle that slipped from Tony was cynical and even appreciative. "Okay, though no one could accuse you of being subtle."
"Why, thank you," and with that, Steve stepped out of the shadow of the tree with his shovel and that blasted patch he wore as though it were a name tag. "One more thing."
"What?" but Tony already knew he wasn't going to like this.
"If he played you and your cousin off against each other for years, I'd say it's a good bet, he planned the same for EJ and his brother."
"Andre and I hated each others guts from the minute he walked into Stefano's house. The old man had nothing to do with that."
"But he thoroughly enjoyed using it, didn't he?"
Tony scowled.
"It's just a guess," Steve told him, shrugging when the silence began to drag again and Tony turned to stare into the grave but after a moment, he asked,
"Before in the house, didn't you tell us that Andre didn't know about EJ's brother, or at least his whereabouts?"
"Yeah, that's right."
More silence and just about the point when Steve was about to lose his patience, Tony spoke up.
"This can still work," he said though it sounded as though he was talking more to himself than Steve.
"Didn't you hear me a minute ago? Stefano's the one who…"
"Provided the imposter to fool Andre, yes."
"So how do you figure Stefano is going to buy those remains belonging to you?"
Tony shot a measuring glance in Steve's direction, and then took a deep breath.
"Because my cousin had as much reason to take his revenge on the old man as the rest of us."
"His loyal soldier?" Steve's laughter at the idea was mocking.
"EJ was in a hurry to get back here tonight," explained Tony, "to speak to me before I got to Baker. Once he found out the doctor was on Stefano payroll, and Victor's, he realized the possibility existed that Baker could have tested Sydney's DNA and therefore knew too much, and he was right. In fact, more than EJ is aware of, I suspect. Certainly more than I was aware of until tonight. Andre wasn't merely Stefano's soldier all these years." Tony stopped a moment and then, looking exhausted suddenly, sighed. "I could never understand why the old bastard kept him alive after he murdered Renee but now, it makes sense because you see, biologically, they're father and son."
For a moment, their eyes locked.
"All those years he was loyal but never trusted," Steve murmured as the implications began to sink in.
"Or acknowledged."
"Or chosen as the heir apparent. That ended up being your son and his children…"
"Instead, yes."
"And," said Steve with a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach, "if he tortured Benji to the point where he learned about your other son, he would have seen through the charade Stefano was playing."
"Precisely."
"Man, you people are twisted."
Only a ghost of a smile played on Tony's lips at the comment. "I hear you worked for Kiriakis once upon a time so I'd imagine you're quite familiar with the concept."
Steve didn't like the reminder, the second in only the last hour or so and he glared at the other man. "Victor is dirty yeah but he doesn't compare to Stefano when it comes to being sick and twisted."
"No?" Tony's thin smile looked more pained than cynical now. "Trying to murder one's own son over a woman isn't something I can accuse Stefano of."
30 minutes later
He'd promised Anna to come back as soon as he was done but he didn't feel done yet. He had too many questions. Everyone involved in this mess was lying…to themselves, to each other and just what the hell kind of karma had he managed to bring down on himself in this life or another to end up with a child related to Victor Kiriakis? Course, perhaps the karma in question was Victor's but still, he had to agree with Johnson's assessment in general. It was just too damn twisted.
Bella.
That wasn't any bloody coincidence, he could bet on that, which meant she'd been fifteen at the time, sixteen tops. And of course, she'd lied about it.
Being the fool, he'd been perfectly willing to ignore his nagging doubts in exchange for a bit of pleasant company at a party he had no desire to attend in the first place so while blaming Stefano for creating the disaster was cathartic, it seemed there was plenty of blame to go around seeing as he'd been the one responsible for getting her pregnant.
But, given the opportunity, he would have raised the boy. Nothing he'd done that night or afterwards had prevented that.
And it wasn't a night he regretted…
"So they were brothers?" Waiting for the bartender, she stood next to him, staring at the portraits in their place of honor.
"That is the way the story goes, and you see," beside her, he leaned one elbow on the bar and pointed, "the one on the left…that was Lucio. He was the elder, and…"
"How can you tell? They look the same to me."
Tony let his glance travel back to her eyes and found her assessing the image of the long dead nobleman almost critically. Again he pointed. "Lucio is the one wearing the family ring."
"Oh, of course."
"And parts of the story told to me suggest the artist took a bit of license to make it appear they resembled each other more than was perhaps the case."
"So, a physical likeness to mirror that of their temperament," she guessed rather shrewdly he thought.
"Possibly, or the similarity of their fate."
"Which was?"
"Well, other than the five centuries of purgatory they've spent in this place?" He shrugged. "A woman, of course."
"And where is her portrait?"
A smile flashed across his face and he leaned closer and lowered his voice, "I must admit, I suspect our hostess of imagining herself the object of their desire and once you meet her husband, you'll understand why."
Getting into the spirit of the proceedings, Bella whispered back, "Oh? Is he old?"
Tony shook his head. "Dull."
"Ah," she countered, "but our hostess is practical at least as he's quite wealthy."
"Yes, well being a crook doesn't necessarily require talent," he pointed out to her.
"Or flare for conversation?"
"Exactly."
She turned her eyes on him now. "And how well do you know the lady?"
It was difficult for the cynic in him to take the question at face value, and yet, it was uttered with such frankness.
"I'm afraid my knowledge of her is strictly empirical," he replied carefully. "I've had to deal with her husband, so I know she's patient and unappreciated, with otherwise impeccable taste and…" he glanced back at the portraits, "I think, a sense of adventure."
"And you find that attractive."
The smile playing on his lips felt self-conscious all of sudden. "Mystery is always enticing…"
