No Cassie.

I disclaim. Still not my characters on the whole, though the spatula idea is mine alone.

Sugar is Sweet, My Love, but Not as Sweet as You

Part One

"Hey Shawn." Two simple words and my heart nearly bursts through my chest.

"Hi Belle," quick, think of something else to say. "Um, Belle, did you finish Mr Mason’s English assignment?"

She frowns at me, biting her lower lip in that cute way she’s done for as long as I can remember. "You know I did, Shawn, you helped me with it."

"I meant the short story," she twirls her hair in two fingers, and I’m suddenly glad she’s worn it down today. It means it’s easier for me to thread this rosebud through it when she’s not looking. Of course, she notices immediately, but what do I care? She’s smiling at me.

"Shawn," she purrs, and I keep thinking about kittens.

"Yes?" Then I’m kissing her, and I don’t care who’s watching. Actually, the only person who’s watching is JT, and he’s only three, so he doesn’t care. By Venus, I love this girl.

We don’t speak, there’s no need for words. We understand each other perfectly.

The doorbell rings, and, slowly drawing back from my Isabella, I run to get it, eager to get rid of whoever it is so I can return to her. I have a very special box of chocolates to show my love.

Something dark comes out of the sunlit porch, and then I’m on the ground, gas filling my lungs, and I can’t see a thing…

I wake up, and the sun’s just about to go down. The box of chocolates I bought for Belle, the one with the Claddagh promise ring right in the middle, is still sitting on the table, but of Belle there is no sign. JT’s still sitting in his playpen, but he’s screaming, tears flooding down his cheeks, and then I see the spatula on the floor. I don’t know why that made me think something really bad had happened, but it did.

Suddenly I want to see Belle, and I don’t care if she calls me ‘sweet’ or ‘sugarplum’ or even ‘candy guy’, because right now, I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life, and I don’t know why. Belle’s probably just calling the cops… but if that were true, she’d be bouncing JT on one hip, holding the phone against her ear as she soothed him and looking for something to use to wake me up, not being in another room.

I lift my head groggily, and get to my feet slowly. I walk slowly over to the spatula, barely noticing that JT has got hold of one of my biology textbooks and is slowly shredding it while he screams his head off, and there are two tiny conversation hearts laid carefully upon it. I think I’m going mad. They’re broken in two, the first is yellow and pink, it reads ‘Good’, and the second, blue and red I notice, says ‘Bye’, and it is at that precise moment I feel my heart slip out of my chest and dissolve.

That sounds so stupid. No one’s heart dissolves. It breaks, shatters, melts, beats rapidly, but it doesn’t dissolve, yet that’s what happened to me. My heart dissolved because for my entire life time I have been loved by the person I will always love most always, and now I know she’s gone. Perhaps it’s the famous Horton connection that tells me, but I know that this Valentine’s Day, I won’t be seeing my Belle again.

I’m nineteen years old, a college kid with prospects in law enforcement, and I’ve just lost the love of my life. Damn.

Part Two

I don’t like Valentine’s Day. Why should I? Even my kid brother thinks it’s commercial, sappy and designed for the people who buy cards that say ‘My One and Only’ for three different girlfriends. Cynical? Maybe. Stupid? No. Just like a guy? Probably, but I’ll say this: I haven’t bought a single Valentine’s Day card for three years. Why should I, exactly? I have no one to give it to, no one to care. Except Cynthia, and if she thinks I’m buying her a Valentine’s Day card, she’s sadly mistaken. Just because I’ve bailed her out of jail a couple of times does not make us soulmates. Actually it makes me in debt.

Candy is good, but you get more at Halloween that Valentine’s. The roses, the diamonds, the rings, the kisses, and, by Venus, those stupid little conversation hearts you can get - the kind that can dissolve your heart - they all belong to my least favourite day of the year.

February 14^th is the day for Saint Valentine. Why is he a saint? Because there were two martyrs to the Christian faith. Valentine’s Day doesn’t even date back to then. It’s a fourteenth century day for lovers that probably just coincided with Saint Valentine’s Day. I hate Valentine’s Day. It’s cheap, crass, commercial and, above all, it’s for all the people in the world who believe love is for always. Self deluded idiots. I loved Belle, and she swore she loved me, and what do I find out? She leaves me on Valentine’s Day.

Oh, she turned up soon enough - no explanations, no nothing. I saw her at college, every single day, until the summer when she left. She was beautiful that year, her hair a gleaming gold that seemed to shine like the sun even when it was raining, but she said I was her friend, and that she wanted nothing more. She said, I swear to Venus herself she said this, accursed goddess that she is, that she wasn’t in love, and I’m not talking 10cc ‘I’m Not In Love’, I’m talking serious, ‘let’s just be friends’ not in love. She even dated Kevin for a while. She dumped him too, right before she moved away. I don’t know where she went. I don’t care. I’m glad she’s gone, because while she’s here, all I can think of is the message I wrote in her year book, the one I swore would be true to our dying day (stupid but true, I thought if she died first, I wouldn’t be able to live without her and would die the same day, and she’d be the same for me - since she’s been gone I’ve proved I can live without her). It was this silly little thing I’d heard in an old song, Neil Sedaka I think, that started with the rhyme ‘Roses Are Red, My Love’. Belle used to love it when I was romantic, so I went and wrote by my name:

‘Roses are red, my Love,

And violets are blue;

Sugar is sweet, my Love,

But not as sweet as you.’

Stupid but true. I used to be that sappy. I used to believe. Now all I believe in is cold, hard facts like ice cream is good on hot days, and fruit cakes are better with plenty of spice. I know what I believe now is by comparison a cynic’s view, but everything is different and nothing is as I thought it would be. Like Cynthia is the best friend I have anymore. Like Mimi and Kevin are expecting their next kid, but no one ever expected their marriage to last more than five years, and they’ve had three kids already. Like Chloe and Philip have fought their way apart and then back together so many times that they decided to get married to do it without inconveniencing everyone else. Like Brady’s moved away to be with Belle. Like my little brother is actually Isaac, and JT is no blood relation of mine at all, but my love for them is the one enduring thing in my life. Like Glen is dead, and Barb’s a stripper in Las Vegas working under the name of ‘Fifi Avenue’. Like I will be lonely to my dying day.

Now there’s a cheerful thought.

Oh, Venus, there goes Cynthia again. She’s trying to buy me a present to make me feel happier, without realising the one thing that would really make me happy about now would be to go home from this accursed mall and sit staring at the wall until this day is over and I can go back to thinking about Belle only once every thirty two minutes and not every thirty two seconds.

Cyn’s disappeared into this clothes store, Mme Camellia’s or something, and I keep hoping that she’s not about to buy lingerie to seduce me in, because it’s going to hurt her credit card only a little less than it’s going to hurt her pride when I say no to her.

I follow her in, shaking my head at the soppy music playing on the stereo system in the school. It changes then. Apparently someone has the same feelings about Valentine’s Day I have myself. Martha and the Vandellas are singing ‘Come and Get These Memories’ now, and though the tune is rather unfamiliar, I like the sentiment.

At least someone has the right idea on Valentine’s Day. This time of year is about heartbreak, getting your feelings killed by cruelty and crying moment secretly in your bedroom because you don’t understand what’s happened, but never letting her see you cry… Getting a little too personal, I think. The music’s cool anyway.

What am I doing in here again? Oh yeah, Cynthia’s shopping for, well, for those with minds more innocent than hers, very little material at a very high price. She had to spoil me for every other woman, didn’t she? (Thirty one that time. I nearly beat my record. I have the rest of my life to perfect this game. I might actually spend a whole day without thinking about her if I make it to ninety three. Now there’s something to look forward to - seventy one more years of misery.)

Cynthia gives out a little cry of surprise on the other side of the store, and I see her running from the lingerie section - I know that girl too well - to the children’s side. I can’t imagine who she’s seen, but stroll slowly over there to find out. Curiosity has got the better of me.

Venus. It’s her. I don’t believe it, but I am forced to concede the possibility that it is in fact the forever beauteous Isabella Black standing with Cynthia. She’s changed. Her hair’s shorter, her figure’s a little fuller and less girlish, her nails are neater too, less sharp and long, her clothes are very different to those she wore in college, but her hands are as full of shopping bags as they ever were after a trip to Ballistix.

Oh, yes, there’s also a two year old girl standing shyly gripping the fair Isabella’s hand, a perfect copy of her mother, down to the blonde curls, blue eyes and heartbreaking smile. Just kill me now. I don’t think I want to know. Venus save me…

"Are my wings straight?"

Sighing, the other stared at his companion’s back. "Perfectly, I assure you."

"Really? Cause they don’t feel too straight to me," the cupid reached backwards and fiddled with the white feathered wings.

"Bart, shut up and watch this," snapped the also winged Rolf. "They’re about to see each other."

"So is it spatula time yet?" Bart was grinning, reaching behind his back to the quiver of plastic spatulas, before Rolf’s hand stopped him.

"No, you idiot, it’s not. They haven’t even said ‘hello’ yet." Rolf was staring intently at the two of them, paying no heed to either the little blonde girl or the bouncing Cynthia.

"Come on, Rolfie, just let me hit her at least." Bart was pleading with his partner, desperate to throw just one kitchen utensil at Belle’s blonde head.

Rolf shook his head despondently, "No, I keep telling you Bart, we must first arrange for Shawn to forgive her, and then you can start throwing spatulas."

Bart was desperate, swatting the air with his favourite pink spatula. He had quite a good aim, if not perfect judgement when it came to whom he was supposed to be hitting. "Not even one? I think Cynthia might like Brady, and he’s standing right over there. We are meant to be spreading peace and love…"

"Fine," Rolf gave in, "you get him, and I’ll get her."

"Yay!" Bart shouted, and instantly threw his spatula straight at Brady’s heart, scoring a bull’s eye.

Exasperated with the other cupid, Rolf did the same to Cynthia, however deliberately not doing the happy dance Bart did afterwards.

"I can’t believe the Big Guy teamed me up with you," Rolf groaned as his companion wiggled his butt around the store and did the funky chicken as Brady and Cynthia caught each other’s eye, and started flirting.

"Aww, quit whinging."

"Stop the kid," Rolf pointed at the little blonde girl, "she’s about to screw everything up."

Their powers didn’t extend that far, though, and the new cupids were forced to watch as the child let go of her mother’s hand and walked slowly towards Shawn, a solemn look upon her face.

"Mary-Jade," Belle said in a warning voice, trying to snatch her daughter back, but it was too late, and little Mary-Jade took a firm hold on Shawn Douglas’s hand, dragging him down to her level.

"You very sweet," she lisped.

"That kid ain’t no screw up," Bart crowed gleefully. "She can do this job for us."

It had to be a kid, and not just any kid, a little blonde haired, blue eyed girl the spitting image of my Isabella at the age of two and a half. Hey, I’ve still got the sandbox photos from back then. Mom brings them out periodically to embarrass me, usually in front of Cyn, who just coos, or one of my many relations. Anyway, so this kid says to me, "You very sweet," and - get this - she lisps. If I had a heart anymore, it would have melted.

As it is, I say, "And you’re as pretty as your mother."

There’s a double edged compliment if I ever gave one. I glance up at Belle, and if I had a heart, it would be pounding loudly right about now.

It only gets worse. Then my old friend announces, cool as you like, "Nice to see you, Shawn. Mary-Jade, we have to be going." As if there is nothing else to say.

I stand up slowly, holding Belle’s gaze for as long as possible. "What, no kiss?"

Cynthia would have normally hit me for such a sentence, but I think she’s a little preoccupied with Brady. He hasn’t changed, I don’t think. A girl would probably notice a lot of subtle differences though. I know I see them in Belle. Not just the way she looks, but the way she holds herself, talks, moves. Oh, and of course, there’s the kid that’s gripping my fingers like a vice. I never knew a two year old could hold like that. Maybe I’ll get her to teach JT to wrestle. The kid’s got no arm.

"Shawn," she’s not even pleading or reproving. Cold, like I’m the one who screwed up all those years ago and the kid’s mine, not hers. I wish she was mine, that this was my life, for one brief instant, and then I remember that I don’t believe in love, so desiring this is like desiring a hole in your head.

"Belle." I can be cold too. I haven’t spent three years alone without being able to shut down my emotional responses to other people.

An eternity passes between us, and suddenly I realise that no matter what happens to me after this, nothing will mean anything unless I know why she disappeared that day three years ago, and why she came back, and why she left again, and came back again, and most of all, why she now has a little girl and no father in sight. I know my Belle would never have a one night stand, or go with a guy who was useless, unless you count me, apparently, and I suddenly wonder who the dad of the kid is after all.

Perhaps it’s a dumb idea - correction, it is a dumb idea - but I come straight out and ask her. "So, Belle, did you find your heart in some other sucker’s chest out there alongside your dignity, or was it just the kid that turned up since you left me?"

Oops, did I say that?

Part Three

Perhaps my last remark to her was a little ill judged, but I don’t think it justified her walking off without a word. Apparently she hasn’t grown a heart, anymore than I’ve grown a brain. We make the perfect couple.

Where did that come from? I hate couples, especially Salem’s newest: Cynthia and Brady. She’s hanging around his neck while he’s picking out lingerie. I don’t want to know anymore. Correction, I don’t want to know at all.

Why does love always come back and bite you in the ass? There isn’t a single woman I have ever seen who I believe when she says, ‘I love you’. At least not for three years. Before then, I believed Belle.

Cyn and Brady are already having one of those deep and meaningful moments that you’re meant to treasure forever as being a baby step on the path to true love. I cough, deliberately, reminding Cynthia just who she was supposed to be with at that precise moment. I may be a fool, but I’m not willing to let anyone else get hurt by a beautiful Black (even I can see, or rather my mother has told me a thousand times, that Brady is as beautiful for a guy as Belle is for a goddess).

Cynthia twists around to stare at me. She sighs in exasperation. "Shawn, if you don’t follow Belle back to wherever the Hell it is she’s gone-"

Brady flicks me a set of keys, clearly keen to be rid of me, "- the penthouse suite of the Salem Inn -"

"then I will kick your ass until next Valentine’s Day," Cyn continues not missing a beat. She doesn’t half make me laugh when she does that, only now I’m too busy running after Belle, and her little blonde daughter.

I talk meaningless words. I admit it freely. I need to know what happened to Belle, why she left and came back so suddenly, why her heart disappeared along with her memory, and most of all, why she stopped loving me when I have never been able to stop loving her.

I did not just admit that I still loved Belle Black, did I? Oh, just kill me now. I don’t want to do that again. I don’t think I can do that again. She took everything last time. I’m a mere shell of what I used to be. A shell of a Shelle, even. I’m nothing without her. Or rather, I’m something, but I don’t like that something. Nodding my head to the newly loving couple, I fly past them.

Belle. Belle. Belle. Belle…

It’s all I can think of. She’s all I can think of. Being without her is like being without oxygen - your brain gets fried and you go crazy, right before you die, gasping for air. Not poetic, but poetry requires passion, and all my passion is for her, not the images she left behind her.

Have I mentioned she’s more beautiful now than ever? It’s almost sickening, but while I’ve starved myself - emotionally if not physically speaking - she’s blossomed. She’s more lovely than I remembered, and I remembered perfectly. Motherhood agrees with her. I always knew it would do, but I had always hoped she would be the mother of my child, not some random stranger’s.

That probably isn’t fair. He was probably a very nice man. I can’t imagine even this new, ice princess version of my Belle being with anyone who wasn’t nice. Yet… I still want to kill him for touching her, for holding her, and, yes, for taking her away from me. It had to be him. I can’t imagine why else she would have left me. Well, I can, but I don’t like it one little bit.

Those three years ago, an eternity to me, I had a box of chocolates with a Claddagh promise ring hidden in the centre of the heart. I never got to give it to her. I never told anyone that the ring was to symbolise more than just our love. If she accepted it, I would have asked her to be my bride today. We would have stayed together, happy and in love, and today she would have changed from being my girlfriend to my fiancée, and in another year, from my fiancée to my wife. I had thought that far ahead when I was nineteen because I loved her so.

My heart was a hot thing then, full of a delicate, strident passion for a girl I had known since childhood. Now the place where it was is bitter, twisted and full of a coarse, fierce grief for what she stole from me. I want it back. Now I don’t care if she really doesn’t love me. I don’t think I could love her now the way I did then, but even if I could, I’m not sure I want to. I know I want back my heart, dissolved or solid.

Then there’s the kid, blonde hair, blue eyes, the living image of her mother. I owe her nothing but a lifetime of pain, because I have accepted that the world without my old Belle in it is a world without love, passion, joy or satisfaction. I won’t stop my life - that’s cowardly, and worse, it will mean she has won over my pride - but I will die feeling this way. I owe the kid something for that at least.

Now I’m standing outside of my Belle’s hotel suite door, except she really isn’t my Belle anymore, and though I’ve longed for many a cold, lonely night in my single bed that was always made for two to hold her in my arms once more, to smell her hair, touch her skin, make her smile, watch her twist her hair around her finger, for Venus’s sake, I will never possess her the way I once did. Our time is over, and, as if my wife had died, my grieving life as a widower has begun, only I did not bury my heart, merely gave it to a girl who melted it into an irretrievable puddle on the floor.

I knock, but she does not answer, so I slip inside. The smaller blonde rushes up to me once more, this time gripping me around the knee, and my missing heart thunders a little. I had forgotten what it is to feel the loving affection of a child without deceit or dishonour. Ridiculous, but I love this girl almost as much as I once loved her mother, both beautiful in their own right.

"Mary-Jade," Belle’s voice is as cool as the blue of her eyes. She is glacial, an iceberg about to sink my ocean liner. "Come here."

Have I mentioned that she really is more gorgeous than three years ago? Perhaps it’s my memory playing tricks on me, but I swear to Venus that my heart raced only half as fast as that double circulatory organ in my chest is doing now when I used to see her. It’s more than that though. More than mere desire, mere want, it’s a burning of my soul for it’s mate. I should have known that we could never be parted forever.

"Shawn, what are you doing here?" Apparently no one bothered to tell Belle that though.

"I came to watch the playoffs, what do you think?" I don’t meant to be sarcastic, but she’s staring at me like I’ve got two heads and I can’t resist. If I had a heart anymore, I’d hate her at this moment. All I’ve got is a hole, though, and I don’t know if it’s in my chest or my head.

"Shawn," she is still cold, and that voice is nothing like the one she used to talk to me in.

"Belle," I counter. "Heart?"

This is unbelievably stupid of me. I’ve just offered her one of those accursed conversation hearts Cynthia handed to me this morning. I don’t know where she got them, but it’s not until Belle’s taken one that I realise it said ‘Welcome Back, Baby’.

"It’s not working," Bart moaned softly, feeling around for another spatula. "I can’t spatula her, because she hasn’t got a heart."

"Of course she has a heart!" Rolf barked impatiently. "Don’t be preposterous. Now give me the textbook."

Handing over the massive green book, Bart sighed. "I don’t know why you bother with that."

"Here we are," Rolf muttered, ignoring him. "‘Heartless women: see Chloe Lane.’"

"And we all know what happened to her," Bart muttered under his breath. More loudly, he asked, "Are you sure that it’s not the kid we’re trying to set up?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Bart," Rolf shook the book and the pink fluffy spatula in the air in exasperation. "It’s Shawn Brady and Belle Black that we’re working on, not their child!"

Bart thought this over for a minute. "Their child?"

"I didn’t say that," Rolf quickly backtracked.

"You’re a liar, Rolfie," Bart sniggered. "Either that, or your halo just fell into a tar pit. It’s completely black."

Rolf put up his hand and grabbed the once golden disc. "Curses on you, Bart. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get this thing to shine properly?"

"Two days, fourteen hours and thirty six minutes of pure goodness," Bart grinned. "And you can’t even manage half of that."

"Can too!"

"Can not!"

"Can too!" Rolf cut in Bart’s next words, "I’ll bet you that I can be completely good for the full two days, fourteen hours and thirty six minutes while we’re putting Shelle back together, and what’s more, I’ll make Stefano reform at the same time."

"I think we need to call the bank, cause there ain’t no way you’re going to win this bet without an overdraft!" The winged man poked his companion in the ribs. "How much is this bet for anyway?"

"Not money," Rolf said quickly, "When I win, you have to say ‘Rolf, you are the greatest genius who ever lived, and I am nothing but a lowly worm, beneath your contempt.’"

"Is that all?"

"And brush my wings for the next three months."

Bart snickered. "Too easy. What about when I win?"

"You won’t," Rolf said confidently.

"But if I do, you have to give me a unique conversation heart, and help me find a lady friend - not Hattie," Bart thought for a moment, "how about that English chick…"

Rolf stared. "How could you possibly tell she’s English? No one in Salem has the right accent."

"She sounds Welsh." Bart sighed happily.

Rolf nodded wisely. "Definitely English. It’s a bet. Now where’s that golden spatula gone?"

Bart looked around and then said slowly, "The one with the white feather duster attached to the other end?"

"Yes, of course!" Rolf barked. "You know where it is?"

Bart scratched his chin and pointed. "The kid’s got it, and she’s aiming it straight at Shawn…"

"Oh for the love of Venus!" Rolf exclaimed.

"I thought that was what got us into this job in the first place?" Bart and Rolf watched in impotence as Mary-Jade threw the spatula / feather duster of Love straight at Shawn’s heart, Belle and her target too involved in staring at each other coldly to realise what she was doing. It disappeared into his chest with a chiming of bells, and Bart laughed. "That kid’s aim is better than yours, Rolfski."

"Shut up, you moron, and grab the kid before she eats that conversation heart laced with Sami powder," Rolf yelled as Mary-Jade bent down to pick up the small candy from the floor.

"Sami powder?" Bart asked curiously, taking the candy from the baby with surprising difficulty.

"Guaranteed to make anyone scheme themselves into their sister’s marriage and get pregnant with their brother-in-law’s brother’s kid while not actually wearing enough clothes to cover someone half their size." Rolf groaned as the candy flew out of Bart’s hand and out of the window into the mouth of an unsuspecting Salemite below. "The only antidote is true love."

"Where’d it go?" came Bart’s desperate cry.

"Out the window!" Rolf yelled, running to it, completely forgetting his wings. Looking down, with Bart as his side, they saw the crowd beneath the window. They had gathered around a figure who was stripping half of their clothes off in the cool winter air while searching desperately around for a glimpse of her half sister’s husband.

"Good grief," Rolf whispered. "I don’t believe it."

"I know," Bart added in a soft voice, "who knew that she had such great legs?"

"Here comes trouble," Rolf groaned as Austin ran up the street. "Does he actually have enough of a brain to realise that she’s not Sami, though she’s acting like her?"

"He doesn’t have enough of a brain to realise that Sami’s Sami, let alone anyone else." Bart pulled out another spatula. "There’s only one thing for it. Greta needs a real man, and he’s going to be…"

He threw the spatula straight at the stunned Greta’s heart, then watched as she looked up at the window. "Me."

"You idiot!" Rolf screamed. "She can’t see you! All she sees is…"

"Shawn Douglas Brady get out!" Belle’s voice was icy cold, there was no contained fury, but I knew to obey.

Don’t ever mess with women when they start screaming like that, is my life philosophy. Unfortunately, it’s got me hanging off the side of the balcony by my fingertips. I took the fastest way out of the room, and guess which was closer: the window, or the door? I think I lose this round. I’m just hoping someone’s going to catch me at the end of this.

Have I mentioned lately that love sucks?

I start praying to Venus, but unless there are a pair of angels around here somewhere, I’m about to become a single young pancake on the ground. This is pre-emptive, but: "Belle, if I live through this, you’re going to owe me so much that we’re getting married!"

I let go and here comes the ground. Not to mention the pain. Something’s just hit me in the chest, and just before I hit the pavement, I realise it’s an egg whisk, pink, fluffy and with little hearts painted on it.

Who knew that when you fell off a balcony you don’t see little birds but flying cooking utensils? I just hope death has nothing to do with Valentine’s Day, otherwise I want a return ticket. This sucks. Ow.

Part Four

Somebody caught me. I don’t know who, but they have very strong arms, and I am very grateful they did. The impact of my landing knocks us both to the ground, but my pain is less than I expected it to be. I expected to be dead, and I must confess to not minding that I’m not.

I look up and the first thing I see is a cloud of blonde hair and a pair of blue eyes. They give me a warm fuzzy feeling in my chest much like the feeling I get when JT is around. They’re so like Belle’s that for a moment I believe they are Belle’s, but with a cold shock, I recognise the girl as Mary-Jade instead. Funny that the emotion in my chest hasn’t faded, it’s grown. Perhaps there is another kind of love I can experience, nothing to do with lovers or candy conversation hearts, but to do with playing on swing sets, candy floss in the park and bedtime stories about princesses in towers with flowing hair and knights in armour that rescue them.

Call the men in white suits. I need a strait jacket. I’ve just decided I want to be a father to Belle’s daughter, whether Belle is my lover or not.

There are many things I can resist, but three that, so far, I have found completely irresistible. Apparently in addition to motorcycles, my Great - Grandmother’s cooking, and nursing a broken heart against all reason, wanting to look after petite blonde girls with amazing blue eyes is also irresistible to me.

I get off whoever caught me slowly, being hauled to my feet by Austin while Mary-Jade stands there staring at me. She has the prettiest blue eyes, just like Belle’s, and this cute little grin that reminds me of JT’s… I suppose it’s because her grandfather is his father. Whoa, did I just think that? Creepy.

Rolf hit Bart again and again, punctuating each word with another slap of his hand.

"You - idiot! Do - you - have - any - idea - what - you’ve - done?" He yelled at him.

"Made Princess Greta fall madly in love with me?" Bart asked hopefully.

"No!" Shrieked his companion, wings flapping in fury. "She can’t see you! She looked up and saw-"

"Another Brady," Bart said mournfully, looking down to the pavement.

"What?" Rolf looked down too.

"Wow." Austin heaved me to my feet. "Where’d you come from?"

I really can’t be bothered with the four hours of explanation using the ‘My First Dictionary’ this would require, so I just thank him, and turn to my saviour. It’s the last person I expected it to be: Sami Brady. Only something is wrong with her. She looks different - flatter.

"Are you OK, Sami?" Austin asks slowly, thinking the words out before he says them.

She looks up with blue eyes open very wide. "Is that my name?"

I think for a moment that she has faked amnesia then realise she’s scammed so much that she has everything she thinks she wants, so acting like she’s forgotten everything at this point is stupid, and Sami may be a scheming witch, but she’s not the intellectual equal of Austin. Yet.

"Sami - your bust, it’s…" If I didn’t know it was his usual state, I’d think Austin was actually confused about something new. I look down, and realise what he’s staring at: Sami’s chest has deflated.

I can’t believe how that sounds, but it’s true. From blowing up to the size of Pamela Anderson overnight, she’s back down to the size of a normal girl. (Just because I’ve got a broken heart doesn’t mean I’m not male.) Apparently all her memory was stored in her breasts, because now that she’s lost them, her memory’s gone too. Have I mentioned her previously skin tight top now fits her quite nicely? It’s a change even Austin’s noticed. Or maybe he’s just realised her pillows are gone at last.

I look past her and see Greta. She’s looking particularly lovely today. Shining, you could say. Either that or she’s just had some major plastic surgery to fix a permanent smile to her face.

Turning my head, I follow her gaze and catch sight of what she’s staring at, not that I blame her. According to Cyn, any girl would stare, not just his ex-girlfriend. I trust Cyn when it comes to this kind of thing. After all, she has fallen madly in love with Belle’s other big brother.

Eric Brady is back in town, and he’s holding a bouquet of roses, a heart shaped box of chocolates, a massive card that looks like it’s for Valentine’s Day, and best of all, an engagement ring for Greta. He’s also down on one knee, with a smile that Cynthia has told me is a real heartbreaker on his face. I think Greta’s about to burst into flames she’s so happy.

I wonder if I could ask him the name of his jeweller, as by the carats of the diamond in the centre of the ring, Belle is going to want nothing less. Oh, did I forget to mention that having survived a near death experience by landing on her half sister’s then ample bosom I have decided that Belle is going to marry me whether she thinks she doesn’t love me or not? She loved me once. I’m sure now. In those never ending seconds I spent falling from her balcony I realised this: I’ve been a pessimistic, cynical, world weary, miserable git with a dissolved heart for three years. It’s time to be a pessimistic, cynical, world weary, miserable git with a whole heart - just making sure it’s beating in someone else’s chest. Also, I think I want to buy Mary-Jade chocolate ice cream and a Valentine’s card. Dear Venus help me- I’ve turned into Philip, with better hair.

Belle’s staring at me like I’ve gone totally crazy. Perhaps I have.

"Hey, Mary-Jade, do you want to hear a folk tale?" And right there, with Austin and Sami kissing like crazy, and the other Brady twin seriously entwined with Princess Greta as she’s screamed ‘yes!’ to his proposal in the Valentine’s card, I start telling Mary-Jade Black the story of a Princess who lost her heart.

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away," I begin traditionally, though this is no old fashioned story of love and death, "there was a beautiful Princess, with hair like sunshine, skin like fresh cream and lips like the ripest cherries that ever were. Now this Princess loved and was loved by a Prince from the neighbouring kingdom and together they were very, very happy, but one day, the Princess disappeared, and when she came back, she didn’t remember the Prince, or their love, or anything at all about what had happened to her, all that she knew was that her heart was missing, and no matter where she looked, she couldn’t find it again."

"No!" exclaimed my little friend, horror struck, her blue eyes big with fear.

"Yes," I tell her, and my heart pounds in my chest as she turns those big eyes towards me, so much like her mother’s. I’m an idiot, but I damned if I’m not going to win Belle back one way or the other. "Now this Prince, he still loved the Princess desperately," Belle’s eyes are on me now, but they’re still cold, and I can almost feel the air around me freezing as I speak, "so he went wide and far trying to find someone who could help her. He went to the East, until he reached the far distant port of Wan Chun Ki, and to the West as far as the great and legendary cliffs of Nosreil, and to the North as far as the emerald Sea of Thimonia, and to the South as far as the hot Herki desert, but he could find no one to help her, and when he came back, the Princess had gone. She lived then, in a castle of ice, trapped by evil magic, and nothing the Prince could do could free her, and there she lived for many a long day without a heart, and the Prince wept because she could not love him anymore."

Belle’s still staring, but I think she’s more intrigued than annoyed now.

"What then?" cries her little daughter, desperate for the happy ending she hopes is coming and has been promised to her by a thousand bed time stories. I plan on making this one come true. Who says romance is dead?

"Then," says Eric with a gravity that I did not know he could muster when Greta is looking so decidedly elated, picking up my story as if it was his own. "a good magician came to the kingdom, and said to the Prince, ‘Oh great and mighty Prince, I have travelled as far as far, and as wide as wide, and I have heard of the plight of your fair Princess, and I have come to cure her.’ And the Prince was very happy, because he knew that this man was as wise as could be, and that he could certainly help the Princess. So he said, ‘Good sir, I beg thee, help the Princess to find her heart again,’ and the good magician said, ‘Sir, you must travel far and far, over mountains and down canyons, through tunnels and across seas, and in the land of Dimera, you will find your Princess’s heart, and once more she will know love.’

"So the Prince rode upon his horse far and far, over mountains and down canyons, through tunnels and across seas, until he reached the land of Dimera, and there he found a terrible ogre guarding the Princess’s heart, which he kept in a silver box. Then the Prince said to the ogre, ‘Sir, I seek the Princess’s heart, and I have ridden far and far to find it, I have come over mountains and down canyons, through tunnels and across seas, and now I ask you to give me her heart.’

"The ogre, who was a giant fellow with great big hands and huge feet said in a deep booming voice, ‘I have the Princess’s heart, but it keeps me company, and I do not wish to give it to you. You may have it in exchange for your dearest possession, for then I will have what is most dear to you, and you will have what is most dear to me.’

"Now the Prince thought, and thought, and thought of all that he had, and realised that it was nothing to him without the Princess’s love, so he said to the ogre, ‘You may have my dearest possession if I may have the Princess’s heart,’ and he gave to the ogre his golden cup, given to him by his father, the King for his fifteenth birthday.

"But the ogre said, ‘Nay, this is nothing to me, I will keep her heart. What else do you have, Princeling?’

"Then the Prince gave the ogre his silver cross, which his mother, the Queen, had given to him on his sixteenth birthday.

"But the ogre said again, ‘Nay, this is nothing to me, I will keep her heart. What else do you have, Princeling?’

"Then the Prince gave the ogre his horse, who was the finest, swiftest horse in all the seven lands by the Emerald Sea.

"But the ogre said once more, ‘Nay, this is nothing to me, I will keep her heart. What else do you have, Princeling?’

"And the Prince thought and thought, and then thought to give the ogre the most precious thing in the world to him. ‘I have tried to give you my cup, oh ogre of the land of Dimera, and I have tried to give you my cross, and I have tried to give you my horse, but you want none of them, so I must give the only thing left to me in exchange for the Princess’s heart: my life.’ And the Prince held his sword forth to the ogre, and said, ‘But you must take it from me, oh ogre of the land of Dimera, for I have not the courage to slay myself.’

"And then the ogre laughed, and said, ‘That I will have, Princeling, but here, first take the Princess’s heart, else our bargain is not fair.’ Into the Prince’s hands he then placed the silver box containing the Princess’s heart, but the Prince knew that if the ogre took his life, he would never be able to give the heart back to the Princess, so he took his sword, the only thing he had not offered to the ogre, and ran the ogre’s wicked black heart through with it. The ogre fell to the ground, stone dead, and the Prince picked up his cup, and his cross, and mounted his horse, and went far and far, over mountains and down canyons, through tunnels and across seas to return to the Princess." Eric took a deep breath, and waited for the inevitable question.

"And then what happened?" whispered the little girl.

"The Princess was still locked into her castle of ice by the evil magic, and no one could reach her. The Prince stood beneath her window, and called to her, ‘Princess, Princess, come to me! I, your lost love, bring you back your heart!’ Three times he called her, and she did not answer him. At last, he took his sword, the sword he had driven through the ogre’s heart to slay him, and struck it against the ice wall of the castle. CRACK! The wall was splintered but did not fall. So he took his cross, and knelt before it, and prayed to find a way to save the Princess. Then the cup his father had given him was filled with light, piercing and hot, flowing over the edges and it melted a hole in the wall of the castle of ice. Then the Prince ran into the castle, searching for his beloved Princess, the silver box with her heart in it under his arm." Eric took a breath and watched as Mary-Jade’s eyes widened even more. "The Prince searched high and low, looking for his Princess, and at last he found her in the highest room in the tallest tower, working at a tapestry."

"Did she remember him?" Mary-Jade asked, tugging at Eric’s hand to make him look at her.

Eric smiles the smile I know makes Greta’s heart beat faster. "Yes, she remembered him, but she still didn’t love him because she had no heart. The Prince went upon his knee before her and said, ‘Fairest Princess, I have travelled far and far, over mountains and down canyons, through tunnels and across seas into the Land of Dimera and back again to find your heart. Now I hold it in this box. Take it, and remember me, beloved.’ He gave her the box, and when she opened it, there was nothing in it because as soon as she held it, her heart returned to her. Then the Princess remembered her love for the Prince, and all of what had been between them throughout their lives, and she kissed him. They went out from the castle of ice, and there was great rejoicing as the Princess was beloved of her people, and they had mourned for her and been sad. Then the Prince and the Princess were married, and lived happily ever after, for the ogre was stone dead and no longer could he harm them and she could remember their love, and it grew every day until it encompassed the whole world and them in it." Eric smiled. "And the good magician stayed with them forever and ever, and the kingdom was happy once more."

Mary-Jade nodded, satisfied with the story. She couldn’t be anything less.

Eric turned slowly to me, and looked into my eyes, telling me that I was to be the Prince of the story, and that Belle was the Princess. I nodded my head, just once, and went my way, far and far, all the way to the Dimera mansion where I found the remote control for the device lodged in Belle’s brain that stopped her from loving anyone except her child.

Stefano was not there, so I could not ask him, but I knew why he had taken Belle from me, though I did not know whose child Mary-Jade was. Without Belle, the Black family had practically collapsed, the Bradys had gone halfway to Hell, and I had been a wreck, unable to fight anything. With her, I could bring down the Dimera empire once and for all.

Who says Valentine’s Day is just for lovers? I’m about to make it just as much about the fighters of this world, right before I propose to my Isabella.

This Prince is not about to let his Princess down, and beware the ogre who stands between me and my lady love.

I start humming, I know it’s ridiculous, but it’s ‘I Know You’ from Sleeping Beauty, and I’m off. Look out Stefano, it’s my turn for a little ogre slaying.

Belle’s back to normal now, since I switched off the mind control, and Eric has told me the part of the story he left out when he told it to Mary-Jade.

"She’s your kid," and it’s as simple as that. Mary-Jade is my child, another sick plan of Dimera’s to ruin the Brady and Black families, finally united in this single child, and we’re finally together as we should have been from the beginning.

It’s two minutes to midnight on Valentine’s Day, and I’m down on one knee. It’s funny that on this day, three years late but just as I planned, I’m asking Belle to be my bride.

"My dearest darling," I start, and open the ring box. I have this whole speech planned out, but before I can even start on it, she looks straight into my eyes.

"Shawn," she whispers, and I fall just a little more deeply in love with her, "yes, I will marry you, and we will raise our daughter together. Now shut up and kiss me like you’ve longed to for the past three years."

And then I’m in her arms, and this is it. I’m kissing Belle, my fiancée, and everything’s perfect. Mary-Jade is sitting over there with JT, allowed for once to stay up long past their bedtimes, my dissolved heart is beating in Belle’s chest now, much as hers is beating in mine, there are roses in her hair, candles on our table, stars in the Heavens, and I think I just saw a spatula hit us both, holding us together with an unbreakable bond forever, but that’s beyond even my sense of belief at the moment.

Romance is the operative word here, and I could describe at length every detail of our moment together, but I think this will suffice: every dream Belle has ever dreamt, every fantasy we have ever had, and every last hope has been surpassed by reality. True love is never to be defeated, and today is just the first of many of a long life of romantic days. Happiness is blossoming inside me, and I’m kissing Belle. This is what Heaven will be like. Thanks for the preview, Venus.

"I think our work here is done," Rolf said satisfied. "Onwards, little Bart."

"Done? We didn’t do anything but make Shawn fall out of a window, Greta fall back in love with Eric Brady just as he was about to propose, give Brady a girlfriend who he can reform and who will adore him forever, deflate Sami’s bosom so she forgot every scheme and plot she ever concocted so she will no longer be evil, make sure that Mary-Jade has her family together," Bart panted out, "and help Belle to find her heart!"

"Exactly," Rolf replied, polishing his halo and fluttering his wings. "If we can accomplish all that in one short Valentine’s Day, imagine what we can do with the rest of the year!"

"Humph," muttered Bart under his breath.

"Come on, Bart," Rolf said cheerfully, "miracles happen. Now who do you think would make Stefano a suitable lady friend? Perhaps Alice Horton could reform him and win me out bet."

"Not even Alice ‘God Bless Her’ Horton," Bart answered sarcastically, "could reform Stefano."

"Maybe," Rolf said with a smile, "but this is Salem, and miracles do happen…"

"Not that kind," Bart put in. "Now if it’s finding me a suitable lady friend, let’s find that Nancy chick, she is hot!"

Rolf smiled sweetly at his partner. "Venus bless you, Bart. Now get back to work!"

"I know, I know," Bart sighed, "no rest for the gorgeous…"