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


"What do you mean, the baby's gone?" A.J. demanded as Bobbie blocked the door to Carly's room.

"It means that Ryan Chamberlain took the child," Bobbie answered. "There is a search underway as we speak."


"But nothing," Bobbie stopped him cold. "And you can take your court order for a blood test and stuff it."


"Go away, A.J.," Bobbie told him firmly. "There's nobody to cry to just now."

"Is Carly okay?" A.J. asked, finally realizing that he'd sounded like a jerk.

"Physically, yes. Mentally? She was kidnapped and held against her will by a murderer, then escaped and gave birth-again, assisted by a murderer, and now, her newborn baby boy was kidnapped by the same murderer, an acknowledged serial killer. How would you feel?"

A.J. was stunned. "She really loved that baby, didn't she?"

"Loves, and yes. This is all about belonging, A.J. You and I have always been a part of something-a family and while ours haven't been perfect, we had our place. Carly found out late that she wasn't who she'd thought she was, that she'd been lied to all her life, and to be frank, she handled it badly. Very badly. She lied, and you know most of the rest of the story. But, lies get exposed, and truth eventually outs. Just not always in time to save things."

"You sound like you forgave her."

"I'm in no position to judge," Bobbie admitted, candidly. "I've done a lot of soul-searching since that night at the Outback-no, since I learned the truth. I'm no saint, A.J., and neither are you. What Carly is right now, is-she's my daughter, and she needs my help. She belongs now, A.J., to me."

Minutes later, Bobbie peeked into the hospital room where Carly was in bed, and wondered what to do, what to say. The last few days of Carly's-no, make that Caroline's life, had been tumultuous in the extreme. Bobbie thought about the missing baby, and her heart ached for the child she'd lost so many years ago, the infant who had grown into this troubled young woman.


But Carly's head stayed turned away.

Bobbie entered the room and approached the bed, wondering not for the first time, where all her anger had gone. The young woman had seduced Bobbie's husband, lied to everybody, and generally created a lot of problems. "Like I did," Bobbie whispered as she noticed the tears running down Carly's cheeks. "Carly?"

"Where's my baby?"

"We're searching for him," Bobbie answered her, reaching out to take her hand. "Stefan has men on his trail, and the law enforcement agencies do, too."


"He's Stefan's grandson," Bobbie answered. "And mine."

"I mean, 'why are you here?'"

"Because you're my daughter," Bobbie told her. "And you're hurting."

"But I've hurt you."

"No more than you've hurt yourself," Bobbie told her from some inner source of maternal wisdom. "And, besides, I've hurt you."

Tears welled up again in Carly's eyes, and she turned away. Bobbie continued. "I didn't want to give you up all those years ago. You were so perfect, so innocent. So trusting. I wanted you to have what I didn't have-a real home and security. A chance. I had nothing-nothing at all to give you. So, I gave you to a couple that wanted you and couldn't have children, and then I prayed and eventually got out of the business. I wanted to find you someday and have you be proud to be my daughter. Okay, I was never a saint-and I've done a lot of rotten things in my life."

"Did you sleep with your step-father?"

"No, and neither did you. Tony was never step-father to you-never!"


"No buts. You knew who he was, but you never had that relationship with him. And, by the time you came along, our marriage was essentially over."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me?"

Bobbie's voice cracked, but she kept on. "Because I think that we need each other. Can you forgive me for giving you away and being bitchy since you got to Port Charles? I think that maybe I've been a little jealous of your youth....."

"Can you forgive me for lying and....for Tony?"

Their eyes met in mutual understanding.

"We'll find your baby," Bobbie promised, as she held her sobbing daughter. "We'll find our little baby."

"Find him," Julian ordered Reece. "Find him and eliminate him-but bring the child to me."

"Find him," Stefan ordered Reece. "Kill him and bring the child to me."

"Did you hear anything about Alexei surviving?" Luke asked Laura later that night as they lay in bed. It felt so good to be back in her arms again, and he vowed never to let his arrogant ass of an ego come between him and his wife again.

"I never heard anything to that effect," Laura answered, "but to be honest, I know very little about how Anastasia managed to survive. I know that she dared not admit the truth for fear of being hunted down and killed by the Bolsheviks."

"So how did you know? I mean, I know that you produced documents and all, but how could you have kept it all hidden?"

"I had a medallion," Laura answered. "With numbers engraved on it. Swiss bank numbers."

"I must have missed that."

"You were brooding on an alp when I produced it," Laura admitted.

"What medallion was that?" Luke asked, suddenly.

"The enameled rose one that my mother gave me. It was a family heirloom-all of Nicholas' II children had one. Three were discovered with their bodies. Anastasia escaped with hers, and maybe Alexei got away with his, too." She shrugged. "He was hemophiliac, so he may not have survived."

"But there was another medallion."

"According to what I was told."

"And if he did produce a child, then..."

"Maybe he passed it on, Luke. I have no way of knowing. There were a lot of problems back then, and the Czar and Czarina had these made-just in case-with information hidden in them. The children were to wear them at all times."

"So where is your medallion?"

"I gave it to Nikolas when I left the island to come to you," Laura told him. "Why are you asking all of this?"

"Remember when Faison said that he was Rasputin's grandson, too?"


"We never found a medallion among his things, but there's this other guy-Julian Rose, who is a dead ringer for Faison."

"I see where you're going, Luke," but don't you think that's kind of a stretch?"

"He keeps popping up, Laura. He's all over the damned place. Rose Academy, Somebody there tried to kill Jeremy. He says that there were creepy things going on there. Ned Ashton went there-and now the Qs are dead. Damian went there, Kat was there just a few days before she was killed, and we think that she was married to the man."

"So what? He ran an exclusive school and Kathryn had a thing for rich men."

"Jeremy's mother can't be reached," Luke answered, "And his uncle is-Peter Castles."

"What is Jeremy doing with us?" Laura asked. "I've been wondering, and I realize that you have a reason for doing what you do, but I think that it's time you told me."

"The kid was badly scared, Laura. He'd been shot at, chased down. Besides, I know damned well that Marty is working on this. It was too easy to get him into this country. We're just hanging tight until we hear from her."

"So what is this all about with Rose?" Laura asked. "If he is Alexei's descendant-so what? Especially, if he is, as Faison said he was, Rasputin's grandson, he couldn't claim any of the Romanov fortune. He couldn't exercise any power over anybody. He'd be just another curiosity for Barbara Walters to interview."

Luke nodded. "I know that, and that's where this whole thing breaks down. I don't see what the end is for him, unless this is an end in itself. But, if he wanted it, he'd have to prove his past. I know that Marty is working on that-by tracing Faison's past. We know his mother went by Nanny MacTavish."

"Some name-Nanny."

"That was her position, I think. She was a nanny and eventually introduced him to Anna."

"Who he formerly thought, according to his papers, was Anastasia." Laura yawned. "This is all very enlightening, Luke, but how are we going to trace Alexei? It's been since 1918-nearly eighty years since he disappeared."

"We found Anastasia's descendants," Luke pointed out. "If we can trace MacTavish, maybe we can learn something about her-or her husband-and work backwards."

"But if MacTavish is the link, then that makes the father irrelevant."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Luke groused. "It hits a little too close to home."

Julian took out the medallion that he'd carried for his entire life. The blood red rose on it was as fresh as the day it had been fired-perfect-eternally perfect-almost haunting in its perfection. He had no memory of how he'd obtained it, no clue what it meant, only that it was his only link to whoever he was. He'd never shown it to anybody-not even Kat. Certainly not the women from the orphanage where he'd lived.

He wondered if his brother had possessed one. Unfortunately, he'd not had the opportunity to ask. Clinching his fist tightly around it, Julian allowed himself to recall the first time that he'd had any idea of his importance. He'd overheard the women at the orphanage talking about him.

"So who do you think he is?"

"The bastard of somebody important," the other answered, matter of factly. "Somebody important-or else The Seventh Rose wouldn't have been involved."

"The Seventh Rose? What's that?"

The first woman crossed herself, and then looked around. "I've said too much already."

"The Seventh Rose," Julian murmured, thoughtfully. "Who, or what are you?"