MARTYWRITES.COM Presents "THE SEVENTH ROSE" a GH Fan Fiction "The Seventh Rose"


Reggie was worried. From his place behind the cockpit, he could see Ned Ashton who sat quietly in the jet, trembling, and perspiring profusely. Any attempt to lift a glass to his lips was an exercise in futility, the scotch sloshing out as his hands shook. Finally, he gave up, letting the glass remain at his side while he sat back, mute.

"What's our E.T.A.?" Reggie asked his cousin, Winston, as they flew west.

"About two hours from now," Winn answered, uneasily. "What's going on, Reg? Ashton is scared to death about something."

"You think he's scared?"

"I've seen scared before, Reg, and the boss-man is scared-or extremely anxious-on some level. He was barely coherent when he came on board, and frankly, if I hadn't known that you were coming, I wouldn't have lifted off. There's something very wrong."

"I agree. Think I'll go and check on him. I've never seen Mr. Ashton like this before."

Making his way back to Ned, Reggie came to a quick decision. Lila had told him to be discreet, but she also expected him to think on his feet and alter plans if that seemed the wiser course. One didn't work for the Qs and blindly follow orders, especially when the wellbeing of a family member was at stake. One analyzed the situation and then acted accordingly, and if that meant disobeying a direct order, so be it. One might well have to live with the consequences, but at least one knew that one's best had been done.

Pausing by Ned's seat, Reggie noted the obvious signs of distress in his employer. Ned's eyes were almost glassy, and his breathing was now coming in short gasps as if the act of breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. His skin was almost clammy, and he was shaking. "Mr. Ashton? Ned?" Reggie knelt beside the man he also considered his friend, and stared into his eyes. "Mr. Ashton?"

"Noooooo," whispered Ned harshly as if to someone he saw in his mind's eye. "No! You can't make me do that!"

"What is it, Ned?" Reggie asked, wanting to free Ned from the grasp of whatever nightmare had taken possession of his day.

"Help me, Reggie," Ned whispered, a moment of lucidity breaking through the despair. "Don't let me hurt her."


But, Ned had slipped back into the blackness that had surrounded him, leaving Reggie wondering who Ned was trying to protect.

Leaving the jet on auto-pilot, Winn came back to check on them, but it was obvious that Ned was in no condition to have any conversation. "Any clue to what's eating him?"

"He's afraid of hurting 'her', whoever 'her' is." Reggie scratched his head and asked, "Exactly where in California are we headed?"

"San Francisco," Winn answered, "but I have no idea where. Like I said, he didn't say a lot. But, he did look into his Daytimer."

With the same care he'd use with a child, Reggie gently reached into Ned's jacket and pulled out the leather bound agenda. "Did he say anything? Mention any name?"

"He did say something about a 'Marty.'"

Reggie's eyes gleamed with understanding, and he smiled. "Then it's up to the two of us to get him to her. She'll know what to do."

"Where's Kevin?" Lucy cried again as she searched the hotel suite.

"He's not here," Suzi observed. "Did he say that he was going anywhere?"

"No," Lucy answered. "He was asleep when I left. I got this call from the front desk-somebody wanted to see me downstairs."

"Who wanted you?" Suzi questioned. "Why did you have to go downstairs? I see that you have a phone in the bedroom."

"I see where you're going with this, but why would he sneak out?"

Suzi was nothing if not direct. "Would you have insisted on going with him?"

"Dad! Dad!" called Lucky as he stared up into the trees near the area in which Luke and the boys had been camping. "Come here! Quick!"

Luke ambled over, scratching his chin. "What's up?"

"Doc," Lucky answered.

"Son, this is no time for games. Now, what's up?"

"Doc," Lucky told him, gesturing up into the trees.

Luke looked up, where he saw a familiar face, in a very unfamiliar position. "Well, damn. Uh, Doc, don't you think that you're taking this tree hugging stuff a little too far? Doc? Kevin? Earth to Kevin, come in, Doc." Turning to his boys, Luke said, "Guys, the doc is on his honeymoon. He's supposed to be hugging his bride, not a tree, so we can successfully deduce that something is wrong." Luke redirected his words to the psychiatrist. "Kevin?"

But, Kevin, his hands torn and bleeding from the brambles he'd scrambled through to gain access to the tree and the rough bark on it, sat silently trembling, his eyes fixed on the Rose Academy in the valley below.

Stefan studied the documents before him in London. They traced the movements of a woman whose name had first come to his attention many years ago, a woman he had spent a fortune to attempt to find.

"It's a tangled mess, Mr. Cassadine," the attorney told him. "We've found evidence of travels in New York, in England, all across Europe, across the southwestern portion of the United States-we think that it was her, though the names have varied along with the description."

"Then how can you be certain?"

"The medallion. At some point, someone reported seeing a distinctive medallion in her hand, or around her neck."

"And her daughter? Natasha?"

The man shook his head. "There are still many leads to follow, and we're doing that as fast as we can, as discreetly as possible. Were it to become known that you were seeking an heir to the Cassadine fortune, we'd have hordes of people trying to claim it."

"Which is what I am trying to avoid. Besides, it might drive her farther underground."

"An odd choice of words, given that she's supposed to be dead."

Stefan nodded. "And we both know that she is not. Unfortunately, we also think that Helena does, too. At least she is not causing difficulties at the moment."

The attorney looked uncomfortable. "That's not entirely correct, sir. We had a report a short while ago that she escaped for a little while from the facility in which she's been confined."

Stefan's eyebrows shot up. "Escaped? She's coming out of her catatonic state?"

The attorney shook his head. "It's very confusing. A psychiatrist was assigned to her case."

"I did not request one, nor do I want one. She is dangerous-a murderer with no remorse, nothing but the dedication to see her goals achieved."

"The courts assigned the doctor."

"I will not allow it."

"You have no choice. She committed the murder on American soil, and the American courts are handling it."

"But she was recaptured?"

"Yes. She was only missing for an hour or so-and was found hiding in a broom closet. No harm done. She's been reconfined with guards."

Stefan nodded. "Excellent. Keep me apprised of any changes in either situation. I am on my way back to Port Charles."

"And Mrs. Spencer?"

"She is waiting in Russia for word from Spencer. She still thinks that he has the boys."

"And when will you tell her that all is well with them?"

Stefan smiled. "Why should I? Her own husband has them, and does not tell her. Why should I?"

"Ramon is still reporting to you daily?"

"Of course. So far, this has been a harmless adventure of which I'm certain that Nikolas will soon tire. As will my son." He couldn't call the boy Lucky, or even Lucas. But, Stefan reflected with satisfaction, the young man was definitely a Cassadine.