Chapter Five:
Aftermath

Nikolas descended the stairs to the base of Bannister's Wharf still feeling as if there wasn't truly any ground under his feet. Everything felt off kilter, and slightly transparent. The focus was too sharp, colors to bright to be real. He walked to the edge of the dock and stared out at the lake, closing his eyes in the wind that was blowing in off the water and letting his mind still a moment.

What happens now?

For three years the ongoing saga of his relationship with Robin had been the backdrop against which everything occurred. The level of the disaster had been completely dependent for him on whether or not he could go to her with it. Not that she hadn't been available when she and Jason were together -- but somehow everything felt different then. Spending time with her had been torturous. Hearing about how difficult it was explaining things to her Uncle Mac this time around, or how worried she'd been when Jason had returned late from a business trip. And he would listen, pained, wondering just how likely it was that she honestly had no clue how deep his feelings ran for her.

Which brought him to an entirely new topic... He had loved Robin Scorpio. He was certain of that. It hadn't been like Sarah, something that had miraculously gone away when he managed not to see her for a few weeks. He'd tried that strategy with Robin -- it hadn't worked. It had been all consuming, it had filled him up with an ache that he didn't have words for. And now... Now he'd slept with another woman. Out of nowhere. After years of only having eyes for Robin. It was confusing, to say the least.

Nikolas opened his eyes to see the launch approaching in the distance just as he heard foot steps on the stairs behind him. He silently prayed it was no one who knew him.

"Nikolas".

Damnit.

Of all the people, of all the times... He couldn't deal with this right now. He felt off-center as it was. However, there was no chance of this just going away, so he took a deep breath and turned to face his brother.

"Hi," he said, trying to keep his voice flat. Lucky looked out at the lake, then back at Nikolas with an equal lack of expression.

"Just going home?"

Nikolas shrugged by way of response and turned slightly to check just how far the launch was from docking. Nowhere close. Usually he and Lucky tried to keep their dealings with each other -- as brief as they usually were -- on a very superficial level. It was an unspoken agreement. Due to their shared relations they knew more about each other than they would have otherwise. And there was some sort of concern they had both decided they could live with, as long as people didn't feel any sort of need to point it out to them. Most of their conversations, however, were still very measured and careful, though they had, in retrospect, come a long way.

He looked back to see Lucky unapologetically taking in his appearance. He had forgotten half of his tux at Carly's -- not a welcome realization -- and was wearing his shirt with the sleeves rolled up at his wrists, open at the neck, with pants that had definitely seen better days. Lucky looked back up at him and smirked.

"Nice threads. You pick up a bridesmaid or something?"

Nikolas's felt himself go cold as he just stared at Lucky, trying to think of something to say. Lucky laughed. "Joke, Nikolas. Relax, ok?"

Nikolas exhaled heavily and gave up trying to hold up his end of the conversation in any intelligent manner. He didn't have the strength for it, and generally, it was better to just let Lucky run these things. Talk when he was willing to talk, and when he wasn't... Well, then it was best to just leave. Nikolas sat down on the edge of the dock, aware that he was going to have to give Lucky some sort of explanation.

"I left a bit early... Didn't feel like going home, so I just stayed at the hotel," he said, flatly.

Lucky seemed to accept this. "What, you weren't longing for the gloomy shores of Spoon Island after a night of masochism? What kind of Cassadine are you?"

"Masochism?" Nikolas glanced over at his brother, knowing full well what he was alluding to. This conversation was simply not getting any easier. Lucky shrugged.

"I got eyes, man."

Since when? Nikolas thought to himself. He leans back on his hands, taking in a lung full of the lake air.

"How'd the wedding finish up?"

"Pretty standard," Lucky sighed. "Dancing, cake cutting, more dancing, bouquet throwing..." he paused, an odd expression coming across his face. "Lizzie caught it, by the way."

Nikolas looked over at him. This was a rare moment, if Lucky was actually offering a topic for conversation like this. He let himself laugh slightly. "Lizzie? That must have been strange."

Though the look on his face seemed to be communicating a certain agreement, Lucky wasn't playing along. "Why?" he asked, an edge creeping into his voice. Nikolas knew he should proceed with caution, but at this point, he was too tired to navigate the emotional mine field that was Lucky Spencer.

"Because... You're 19, for starters."

Lucky shook this off physically, his irritation showing a little more. "It wasn't 'strange', Nikolas. I mean, geeze! I know I'm going to marry Elizabeth some day."

"You do, huh?"

Lucky looked over at Nikolas as if he was beyond help. "The 'one' is the 'one', doesn't matter when you make it legal -- what are we supposed to do, wait around for years for each other?"

The implication of what Lucky had just said was out there in the air before he could do anything to suck it back in. Nikolas turned away from him, looking back at the launch. Closer. Any minute now. He heard Lucky clear his throat beside him. "Look, it doesn't matter," he muttered, his version of an apology. "I mean... timing's important, right? She has to finish art school. It's not something that's just around the corner."

Nikolas nodded slowly, then pulled himself to his feet.

"Well... Congratulations, then," he murmured, at a loss for anything else to say. Lucky ran his hands through his hair quickly, clearly uncomfortable.

"Yeah, thanks," he looked at Nikolas and took a deep breath. "Look. I'm late -- but..." He stopped at moment, furrowing his brow into an expression that was uniquely unreadable. "I don't blame you for bailing last night. It was pretty cool that you came at all."

Nikolas looked across at Lucky, sincerely, if apprehensively, touched. "Thanks."

Lucky shrugged the gesture off. "Hey, I wouldn't have done it," he said simply, before turning and walking away. Nikolas shook his head slightly. Somehow Lucky managed to turn every compliment or gesture into an insult. He let his eyes close again. He really needed to get home.

Bobbie watched Lucas finishing up the last of his scrambled eggs, and looked up at the clock again. Carly was, predictably, taking her time coming to the table and Lucas was not to be put off when it came to the topic of food these days. Which was, really, preferable to Bobbie. She wanted a little one-on-one time with her daughter today. It was necessary to get some idea of just where Carly's head was. She'd seemed happy, lighthearted even, in the days before the wedding, but if past experience proved anything, that was just Carly's way of kidding herself. The other shoe should be dropping any time now -- if it hadn't already -- and Bobbie was silently praying it wouldn't be as devastating a blow as some of the other slides Carly had taken off the deep end in the past year. She wasn't sure if she was going to be able to handle another depression. It was hard to imagine anything would rival the deep well Carly had been in following the loss of Michael, but if anything was ever going to come close, it was this.

"Morning!"

Bobbie looked up to see Carly come bouncing into the room, the picture of jollity. Uh oh, she thought to herself. She noticed Carly had something balled up in one hand, something pale yellow in color.

"What's that?" she inquired. Carly met her gaze, but just smiled broadly in response. She brushed past her mother into the kitchen, where the unceremoniously dumped the item into the garbage can. She turned around, her eyes falling very purposely on her younger brother, and started towards him.

"Lucas!"

"Don't hug me!" Lucas complained as Carly wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. He made a strangled choking noise in response, and Carly pulled away, purposely messing up his hair.

"You'll live, kiddo." Carly flopped down in the chair opposite him, and eyed his empty plate. "Thanks for waiting for me".

"You take too long," Lucas said simply, dropping his fork. "I gotta go," he announced, jumping to his feet.

"Lucas!" Bobbie called after her son, already half way out of the room. "Where do you think you're going?"

Lucas sighed heavily. "Mom. I got STUFF to do!" He looked at Carly for support. "You don't want me to stay, do you?"

Carly picked up the glass of orange juice at her place. "Hey, I'm not going to stand in your way."

Lucas looked at Bobbie pleadingly and she rolled her eyes, dismissing him with a gesture. Lucas was out the door before she could even comment on his rapid departure. She couldn't help but wonder if Lucas suspected that Bobbie wanted to have Carly to herself for a little while. But she'd still hoped her children would have a moment together... It amazed her, still, the way Carly now fit into her family. She and Lucas had a bond that seemed to be beyond words. They bickered, they teased each other mercilessly, but in Carly's darkest times, Lucas seemed to be the one force that could make her smile. He simply refused to acknowledge the emotional mess Carly had become, and she, in turn, used him and his preteen chatter, as an escape from thinking about the more adult problems life had handed her. Carly was, it turned out, a good sister. Certainly she snapped at him from time to time, but there was a consistency in that relationship that she seemed to appreciate.

"You're not keeping the dress," Bobbie observed, glancing back over her shoulder to the garbage can where Carly had not-so-secretively tossed out the dress.

"You noticed."

"You must have wanted me to."

Carly shrugged. Bobbie decided to drop the topic and headed over to the oven, pulling out the plate she'd prepared for Carly, and bringing it over to the table. Carly barely blinked as the meal was set before her. Bobbie turned and walked back into the kitchen. After a moment Carly spoke, her voice surprisingly small.

"Did you already eat?"

"Don't worry, I'll join you," Bobbie smiled. It had taken her awhile to see just how desperately Carly needed a mother in her life. Virginia had died too soon. There was a wounded child in Carly that longed to be nurtured and cared for. She sought constantly for something or someone to fill that void. Bobbie tried, and in some ways, she thought she'd succeeded. But there was still bitterness that would rear it's head, and sometimes Carly's needs were so great Bobbie thought there was nothing in the world, no one person, that would ever have enough to fulfil them for her. She suspected therein lay much of her attachment to Jason. An attachment that simply wouldn't fade, no matter what she went through, no matter how many times he rejected her, or... Well. The proof had been, of course, when he hadn't stepped in where Michael was concerned. Carly had been livid. Her anger had known no bounds, and Bobbie had watched, in fascinated horror, as her daughter managed to shift all responsibility of what was happening, from Jason's shoulder's onto Robin's. She wasn't sure she understood to this day why Carly insisted on holding so tightly to the dream of her and Jason being together, but nothing ever seemed to shake it. Not permanently.

"So..." Bobbie said, deciding just to jump in with both feet. "How are you holding up?"

Carly pushed the eggs around her plate idly, not wanting to answer the question. After an impossibly long moment she finally sighed.

"I'm fine, what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say what you're feeling".

"I just DID," Carly's voice betrayed her irritation. "I'm fine. End of story."

"Do you have an appointment with Gail Baldwin this week?" Bobbie pressed. Carly tensed immediately.

"Don't I always?" She scowled down at her food. "It's on Friday".

"You know, I think if you wanted to go earlier, Gail would happily fit you in."

Carly dropped her fork with a clatter.

"No, I don't want to go earlier! I'm fine. I don't need to see Gail every time something happens. I CAN function without her."

"I'm just saying --"

"I know what you're saying," Carly said, her jovial mood having evaporated completely. "You sound just like everyone else. Poor crazy Carly. Thank God she's finally getting help. Well, you know what? I'm only doing this for Michael. I'm only doing this because the court seems to think it's a good idea. And I'm getting really sick of everyone looking at me like I'm some kind of lunatic about to snap at any minute".

"Carly," Bobbie leaned against the counter, trying to be patient. "No one thinks you're a lunatic."

Carly snorted.

"Where have YOU been? Come on. As far as most of this town is concerned I'm the instability poster child. Too crazy to be a mom, too hopeless to hold a job, live on her own, have a LIFE -- " she stopped short. This was on her list of least favorite topics. She knew that even Bobbie thought that she was a little off her rocker. She couldn't really blame her -- Bobbie had seen her at her absolute worst. And she claimed to understand -- she'd lost a child too, after all. She had to understand the gaping wound Carly was carrying around inside her. "Even if they don't know," Carly said, finally, her voice thin, "They have to have a clue."

"You're going to get better," Bobbie said simply. She'd said this to Carly so many times that she was finally beginning to believe it herself. Carly was a fighter. She was strong. This was just a particularly harsh body blow.

Carly looked at her mother and felt herself crumble. She pushed the plate away, and lay her head down on top of the place mat, letting out a groan. Bobbie frowned. She had been waiting for this. It had been going on so long, this depression. She had helped Carly keep it a secret from everyone else, made sure she ate, pulled her out of bed, made her get out and take walks... Sometimes it was like she was trying to live two lives. Her own, and her daughter's. It was so painful to watch her like this. She had been awfully proud of how Carly had handled the wedding. Not that she hadn't held her breath through the whole ceremony. It was hard to believe that Carly had only planned to play bridesmaid, and not do something crazy. But she hadn't. She'd stood up there, and she'd looked calm. Serene. But obviously it hadn't been an act she could maintain.

Bobbie sighed heavily, and decided it was time to start the "post-Jason" plan of attack. She picked up a slender box off the counter, a ribbon carefully tied around it and carried it over to the table. She sat down in the chair across from her daughter and put the present in the middle of the table.

"Carly." she prompted. After a moment Carly shook her head, her forehead pressed against the table, then sat up, and looked at Bobbie expectantly.

"What?" She asked, sullenly. Bobbie smiled with the infinite patience she had developed over the last year of living with Carly. She nodded towards the gift.

"I thought you could use a pick-me-up today."

Carly's eyes fell on the present, and she looked up at Bobbie, confused. "What's this?"

Bobbie suppressed her excitement and tried to look at Carly without emotion. "Open it."

Carly groaned again, and picked up the present. "You know, Bobbie," she said, tersely, "You skipped my formative years, it's not like you can just throw a present at me and act like it's going to take everything away." Bobbie continued to stare at her, her hand tightening into a fist as she waiting for Carly to stop sniping and just open the damned thing. Carly sighed and pulled off a ribbon. "I mean, Jason was a huge part of my life, you know?" she tossed the ribbon aside and pulled the box open. "It's not like you can say 'Oh, you lost the only man you're ever going to love, but here's a --' " Carly stopped dead, looking down at the contents of the box. She felt herself flush at the sight of it. She looked up at Bobbie, mouth open, in complete shock. Bobbie smiled at her gently.

"Recognize it?"

Carly nodded numbly, tears immediately coming to her eyes. Bobbie got up and walked around the table to stand behind her.

"I thought you should have it," she said quietly, removing the necklace from the box Carly was still cradling in her hands. "I never told you, but I always thought it looked nice on you." She held the necklace up, and laid it against Carly's neck, fastening it with ease. Carly's hand immediate flew up to her collarbone, holding the necklace, still in shock. Bobbie put both her hands on Carly's shoulders, and leaned down to kiss her on the top of the head. "I used to think of this necklace as a symbol of everything you wanted to take from me. But it wasn't, was it? It was just what you wished you had... And now... Now I think it should just be a symbol of your future. Your dreams, Carly. No one else's."

Carly turned in the chair, and looked up at Bobbie, tears now streaming down her face. Bobbie felt her heart swell. It was one thing she had learned over the years. Carly was misguided, she was insecure, but if you showed her any sign of affection, the look on her face let you know that she thought the world of you. It was almost as if she could count down to the moment Carly suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.

"I just loved him so much!" Carly cried against Bobbie, her mother gently stroking her hair, the most maternal of gestures. It didn't help her stop the flow of tears at all. "I loved him so much, I thought he'd have to love me back."

Bobbie's eyes quickly filled with tears of empathy. She knew that feeling too well from her own youth. "Oh, my sweet girl... Carly," she whispered, holding Carly's head against her. "Carly, I just want you to be happy. This is the end of chapter, ok? But it's not the end of the world."

Nikolas was still amazed that he had made it up to his quarters without attracting the attention of anyone outside the guards at the dock. Even Mrs. Lansberry had been unaware of his arrival, and it had given him a chance to shower, change, before coming back down the stairs for a standard breakfast, and to wait for his father.

He moved down the stairs and into the living room without making a sound. He felt slightly better now, physically at least. However, he was realizing that this mood plaguing him was not something he was going to be able to wash away. He couldn't put a name on it. It was dwelling in his stomach, heavy, like a emptiness that wouldn't quite take hold. He sat down on the edge of the couch and tried to give it serious contemplation. Robin Scorpio had married Jason Morgan. He closed his eyes and tried to think of it, and came up dead against the image of Carly, once again. Carly.

No one had EVER looked at him that way. The only other person who had really had the opportunity was Sarah, but that hadn't had the kind of intensity Carly had. He had to give her that. Incredible intensity. The feeling in his stomach finally stirred as he let his mind wander back to the night they'd spent together. It was fuzzy around the edges, soft focus, but he remembered every detail. The way the wine had felt as he surrendered to it, the harshness of her manner gradually falling away into hurt and sadness that had such depth is had bowled him over.

His mind inevitable moved from the moments of emotional connection, as brief as they were, to the sensation of touching her. Of being touched BY her. The idea that it had happened at all was still hard for him to believe. It didn't feel real, and yet, there he was.

As surprised as he'd been when she'd suddenly demanded he leave, he was now glad for the excuse, the easy exit. He couldn't wrap his mind around this to save his life. And what Lucky had said on the dock was clouding the issue for him even more. The 'one' is the 'one'. Well, the 'one' had been Robin, and now, no matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Carly. It had to be infatuation, he told himself. It was just the pain of loosing Robin for good mixed in with having someone actually want him for once. That HAD to be it.

"This is a surprise. I assumed you were out running Sheba."

Nikolas looked up to see Stefan enter the living room from behind him. He suppressed a grimace at the idea of riding in his current state, and leaned forward on the couch, putting his head in his hands.

"I'll have the groom take her out," he stated without further explanation.

Unseen behind his son, Stefan took in Nikolas's posture and frowned as he made his way around the back of the couch, taking a seat on the chair. He continued the conversation with forced levity.

"I trust you enjoyed yourself at the wedding last night," Stefan didn't look at Nikolas as he picked up a scone off the tray Mrs. Lansberry had left on the coffee table for Nikolas, and broke it gingerly. "You must have come in quite late."

Nikolas lifted his head with undisguised effort. "I'm sorry if you waited up for me."

"Not at all. I was merely engrossed in a book."

Nikolas smiled slightly at his father's words. He should have known better. Maybe Stefan didn't know who he'd been with or where but he certainly seemed to know that Nikolas hadn't come home. Or at least, he suspected it.

"It was a very long reception," he stated simply. It was unlikely Stefan would believe him, but he wouldn't question it either. Actually, Stefan was simply so relieved that Robin Scorpio was no longer on deck as a possible Cassadine wife he didn't much care where Nikolas had been, just as long as he had been safe.

"Well, regardless, it's good to see you up."

Nikolas frowned. As opposed to where? The bottom of the lake?

"I have a whole day ahead of me," Nikolas said without enthusiasm.

"We have no business to attend to, if that is causing you concern."

It hadn't been. Nikolas didn't care much for business. Not for the day to day handling of it. Acquisitions were interesting, he had an interest in that. Maintenance, on the other hand, was tedious.

"I assumed we wouldn't be dealing with anything of importance today," he sighed. "Not on a Sunday."

"Well, if you have the urge," Stefan gestured to an envelope lying unnoticed on the other end of the coffee table, "There is something in the vein of purchases for you to examine."

Nikolas knew what it was before he even picked up the envelope. He'd been waiting for this. It was an obsession that had come out of nowhere and simply wouldn't leave him alone. He grabbed the envelop off the table and opened it quickly. It contained a few papers he didn't feel like concerning himself with, and a photograph. He tossed the other contents aside, and took the picture in his hands, staring at it a long moment.

"They said," Stefan murmured, "That it should dock at the Marina on Thursday."

Nikolas nodded, taking in the picture. This was what he'd been waiting for. It was small, by the standards of boats he'd owned in Greece, but he hadn't wanted anything big. Just something that stayed afloat.

Stefan was regarding him carefully. "I'm still unsure as to where this renewed interest in sailing developed, Nikolas. I never thought you cared for it much."

"I didn't. But things change." He dropped the photo back onto the table. "For some reason I've been missing that lately..."

"Sailing," Stefan inquired, "Or Greece?"

Nikolas shook his head, not offering an explanation. He didn't have one. Just that, one day, out of nowhere, he'd recalled sailing in Greece, the peace of it, and from that point on he'd desperately wanted to ability to do it again. And now he had it. He smiled to himself.

"I just want to try something... different."

"I see."

The expression on Stefan's face betrayed the fact that he was leaving much unsaid. Nikolas knew he was concerned. He could imagine, without much effort, that his father had concerns surrounding him and his whereabouts the night before that he wouldn't ask any more than Nikolas would have answered them. But still, it hung in that air. The similarities, what he knew Stefan feared for him above all else. That he would get trapped in loving a woman he couldn't have, that his life would become more about what could have been than about what actually was. These were all things that had been said before, in angry and emotional confrontations that occurred every time Robin reentered Nikolas's life. Nikolas had very little patience for it, mostly because he found the image too painful. Hitting too close to home. The years of anguish his father had endured was something that was known to him now in a way it hadn't been in his teenaged years. And though he claimed repeatedly that it made little difference to him, the fact of the matter was he harbored the same fears himself. Or he had. Now, he felt, something was changing. It was a new beginning. And he couldn't explain how the boat figured into that. He leaned back against the back of the couch and looked up at the distant ceiling overhead.

"It's over, father," he said, after a long moment. Stefan nodded.

"I hope, for your sake, that it is."

Carly closed the door tightly behind her, then turned and locked it for good measure. She wanted -- no, she needed -- to be alone right now. She didn't want anything to interfere with what she wanted to do right now -- which was go into her room, curl up under the covers and cry until she was out of tears. Bobbie hated it when she did things like that. She didn't know how to explain that times came when she just had to do it. And it didn't mean "sign me up for more Prozac". It was just grief. And she was certain that simple grief didn't mean that she was chemically unbalanced. No. Carly felt sometimes that she was the only one left, but she honestly believed that her brand of "unbalanced" wasn't the sort of thing anyone was ever going to cure with a pill.

She started towards the bedroom, her body already beginning to shake, anticipating the flood of emotion. She reached the door and stopped short.

It was, almost, like revisiting the scene of the crime. The covers were still on the floor, the sheets still rumpled, the window still open. She took a deep breath and walked across the room slowly, feeling almost like Nikolas's presence was still there somehow. She shook her head. Not possible. She barely knew the guy. It was just some sort of impression. A memory that she wanted to shake free of.

Carly picked up the thin black piece of material off the arm of the chair and held it between her fingers. Nikolas's tie. She glanced around the room and realized that Nikolas hadn't taken his jacket or tie when he'd left. She caressed the material softly with her thumb, and then, against her better judgment, lifted it to her nose and breathed in the scent of it. It smelled just as she expected, just lightly of his cologne. She felt almost as if she'd been hit in the stomach and sunk onto the bed, feeling tears come to her eyes. The floodgates opened inside her and she slumped over, curling up into a ball, and pressing the tie against her eyes. She surrendered to her despair, wondering only briefly who she was crying over -- Michael, Jason... Or Nikolas.