"No hello?"

Wallace's arms remained outstretched as Dex grabbed a suitcase off the carousel. Dex's glare was defined and aggressive, anger clear and present in his face.

"What's your problem?" Wallace asked, his eyebrow raised, "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"Let's go," Dex snapped, dragging the suitcase behind him. Wallace scoffed before following his son. They rushed by a number of crowds, Dex's movement crisp as he wheeled his father's luggage towards the airport entrance.

"Dex," Wallace's voice was raised as they waited for a number of cars to pass by, "what's going on?"

The moment the crosswalk was open, the young man continued towards his SUV. Wallace tried to keep up pace with him, confusion sitting on his mind as they made it to the vehicle.

The silence was palpable as Dex drove them to the Metro Court. Wallace looked around in the car, shifting his gaze between his son and the road ahead of them. Dex's eyes were hyperfocused on the road, the anger still present in his expression.

"...I got a phone call earlier today," Wallace began, eyeing the young man.

"Oh yeah?" Dex huffed out, a brief smirk on his face.

"Yeah. Unknown number too, had a Port Charles area code."

"Who called?"

"Some British guy," Dex flinched at his father's response. His grip on the steering wheel intensified: Victor.

"What did he want?"

"...Not sure," Wallace paused, looking out at the road, "Seems like he called to push my buttons."

"Over what?"

"Over you."

For a brief moment, Dex took his eyes off the road to glance at his father. The two men made eye contact, and part of Dex wanted to reveal that the British stranger who contacted Wallace was anything but.

He looked back at the road, trying to loosen his grip on the steering wheel.

"Glad to see you're not as pissed off as you looked at the airport," Wallace chuckled, "What's the matter, anyway?"

"How did this…" Dex gulped, "British guy talk about me?"

"He was…making threats," Wallace replied, "acting like a tough guy."

"And you flew here, why?"

"Precaution. I just wanted to make sure things were going well," Dex could feel his father's eyes on him, tensing up under his gaze, "and I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Mhm, sure," Dex hummed, the Metro Court coming into view. The men sat in the SUV after he parked and turned the car off. Dex averted his eyes whenever he sensed Wallace looking his way.

"Sure?" Wallace raised an eyebrow, "Dex, I'm your father. I care about you-"

"Right," Dex nodded slowly, "you care enough to give me that amazingly flimsy lie."

"Lie?" Wallace asked as he watched his son get out of the car. He got to his feet in the parking lot, trailing Dex as they entered the hotel lobby, "When did I lie?"

"The entire car ride here," Dex replied quickly as they stood in the elevator. He ignored Wallace's offended expression until they made it to his room.

"I actually got that phone call," Wallace spat, closing the door behind him. He loomed over Dex as the young man laid the suitcase in the corner, "A British man talked about you-"

"Yeah," Dex said, swiftly turning and getting in the older man's face, "but what you failed to mention was that the man that called is my grandfather."

Wallace froze, his spine stiff. There was a fierceness in Dex's eyes, a familiar determination that softened Wallace's heart as much as it hardened his resolve.

"I didn't say his name."

"You didn't have to."

"All I said was that he had a British accent," Wallace said, stepping away, "When did I say that the man was related to you?"

"What's his name?"

"That's not important."

"So it wasn't Victor Cassadine who called you?"

Wallace bit his lip, averting his gaze. Dex's anger burned a hole through him. He wanted to be anywhere else, hoping that the floor would swallow him whole.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"...What happened today?" Wallace asked, shrugging his shoulders, his hands on his hips.

Dex took a deep breath, "I…finally met my mother's family."

"The Cassadines," Wallace sighed, running a hand down his face, "I told you not to concern yourself with them."

"I didn't go out of my way to be around them. It just…happened."

"How?"

"Ava noticed my ring," Dex held up his right hand, "She said the design looked like something at Wyndemere."

"And you went with her."

"She thought it could have something to do with my mother."

"Great. Just great," Wallace flashed his palms, "She claimed she was helping you and yet she led you right into a trap."

"Trap?"

"They all know who you are," Wallace replied, "and that's not good. There's a good reason I told you to not get involved with the Cassadines, alright?"

"Sure, but-"

"No buts about it. They're dangerous, psychotic, and destructive. They don't care about who they hurt as long as they get what they want."

"How do you know that for sure?" Dex asked, his tone slightly hostile.

"I just do. Why or how I know doesn't concern you."

"No, no," Dex held up a finger, "you're not doing this to me again."

"What?"

"You're done keeping secrets from me."

"Excuse me?" Wallace laughed in disbelief, "Who are you to command me to do something?"

"Someone who was just outed to a bunch of strangers I'm now supposed to consider family. Someone who was cornered over my mother, over you, over the things you did-"

"Like what? What did they accuse me of?"

"According to Victor, 'scrubbing me clean' of my heritage."

"Oh please," Wallace rolled his eyes, beginning to turn around, "he said that same crap over the phone."

"Is he right?"

"I-" Wallace's mouth slammed shut, trying to choose his words carefully, "It's not that simple."

"So he's right."

"Not in the way you think."

"Really," Dex scoffed, resisting the impulse to laugh, "So what do you call me not knowing anything about my mother's family?"

"Protection," Wallace answered sternly, "There was no 'erasure' of any kind. I was protecting you. That's it."

"Protecting me to the point that I didn't even know my mother's name?"

"I had my reasons."

"Of course you did," Dex raised his voice, rolling his eyes, "You say that all the damn time."

"...I don't want to fight with you over this," Wallace said sternly, "The last time we did this song and dance, you had a nervous breakdown and ran off to join the military. The last thing we need right now is you playing soldier again."

"I already play soldier for you," Dex crossed his arms, "and I'm not going anywhere."

"Look," Wallace sighed, sitting down at the foot of the bed, "if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. Talking about your mother isn't exactly…enjoyable."

"So? It still has to happen."

"No, it doesn't. Sorry to burst your bubble, Dex, but you're not entitled to know everything."

"So you don't think I deserve to know anything about my mother?"

Wallace could see outrage beginning to color every aspect of Dex's composure, and a sense of guilt began to fester deep inside of him. He ran a hand down his face, trying to choose his words carefully.

"There are things that happened," Wallace began, "that I'd rather not…think about. Or talk about. But you know what you know now thanks to that nightmare of a family-"

"And it's not enough."

"It'll have to be."

"That's not going to work for me," Dex said, "I'm not a child. You can't keep pushing off this conversation because you think I'm too young or you think I'm not ready. You're out of excuses. You owe me this."

"Let's make something clear here, Dexter," Wallace hissed, getting in his son's face, "I kept you safe, I gave you a home, I made sure you had everything you needed. Not a day went by where you didn't know I loved you. That is all I owe you."

"You-"

"You don't get to make demands of me, you don't get to act all indignant and huffy because I'm not giving you what you want. You're not going to treat me like that."

"I-"

"You're right, you're an adult. And yet you're acting like an ungrateful brat."

"The only person acting like a brat is you," Dex retorted in a hostile whisper, "You're getting all defensive and hostile, stomping your foot because I'm not giving up like you want me to."

"Watch it-"

"You have no idea what I went through today," Dex said bitterly, "I was stuck in a room full of strangers, overwhelmed by all this information on my mother that you failed to tell me."

"You were fifteen-"

"And you still should've told me. I had a right to know how my mother died, and thanks to my family, I know now. Here's your chance to tell me more."

"Dex-"

"This is my mother we're talking about," Dex's tone softened, "It's not some random client or a dead guy I don't need to know about. This is the woman who gave birth to me, who took care of me until she couldn't. She left me letters and gave me her family ring so I wouldn't forget her. Don't you think I have the right to know about her?"

"...Sit down," Wallace pointed his head towards the bed. The two men sat at the foot of it, Wallace's hand resting on Dex's shoulder.

"Something happened," Dex sighed, "and I remember that we couldn't stay with her-"

"She sent us away."

"Why?"

"Your grandmother…" Wallace paused, briefly looking away, "found out about you, which meant that you were in danger."

"I've heard she was evil."

"She was," Wallace nodded, "easily the worst of them all."

"What was she going to do?"

"She planned to kill you. Your mother told me about this, and she decided to facilitate our escape."

"Escape?"

"Your mother was kept in maximum security compounds her whole life," Wallace explained, "She and I met when she was held in Greece, and then at some point, she was moved to one in Amsterdam and had you."

"Then you moved there."

"And that's you got stuck with me."

"Yeah," Dex grimaced, "...So how did my mother facilitate our 'escape?'"

"I stole one of the compound's vehicles while your mother packed you up. You two met me at the car and we left. Simple as that."

"Right…" Dex's eyes were cast towards the floor.

"Look," Wallace sighed, "it wasn't easy for you to be separated from your mother, I get that. But look at you now: you're still here and still in one piece."

"Sure, but if all of this was as simple as you say it was, why didn't you tell me before?"

"What happened may have been simple, but that doesn't mean it wasn't hard. I hated that we had to leave your mother and I know how upset you were-"

"But what stopped you from telling me this?" Dex asked, his tone firm. A lone thought hung in his mind: What's stopping you from telling me more?

"I-"

"You had twenty years to tell me why we left. Anytime I asked, you immediately said no and said you didn't like talking about it."

"That's the truth," Wallace replied, "Do you think I enjoyed talking about that night?"

"Whether you like to talk about it doesn't matter. I still should've learned about it. It shouldn't have taken twenty years."

"Well, you know now," Wallace stood up, "Can't that be good enough?"

"No."

"No?"

"No," Dex got to his feet, "Look, I'm glad I finally know why we left, but you had no excuse to keep it from me for so long."

"Dex, c'mon, you're really going to hang onto that?" Wallace asked, throwing his hands up. Dex turned his back, grabbing a jacket and a pair of sneakers left by the window, "And where are you going?"

"Out."

"Where?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Dex wait-" the slamming of the door cut Wallace off. Dejected, the older man sat down on the bed again. He wanted to follow his son out into the night, but part of him didn't want to upset the young man any more than he already was. The thought replayed in his head: I failed.

Dex stood at the entrance of the Metro Court, his hands in his jacket pockets. He looked on either side of him, the sidewalk barren. As he made his way to the car, he felt a buzz against his thigh. He stepped into his vehicle, praying that his father wasn't attempting to reach him. He felt a slight unease as he read the message.

From: Sonny (11:43 PM)
Come to Pozzulo's.
We need to talk.