Chapter Seventy-Three:
The Devil & the Deep Blue Sea

"I don't want you
But I hate to lose you
You've got me in between
The devil and the deep blue sea

I forgive you
'Cause I can't forget you
You've got me in between
The devil and the deep blue sea

I ought to cross you off my list
But when you come a-knocking at my door
Fate seems to give my heart a twist
And I come running back for more

I should hate you
But I guess I love you
You've got me in between
The devil and the deep blue sea"

Carly leaned her head against the door frame, eyes fixed on the foot in her door, and tried to decide whether or not she was going to choose this battle. A sign of how worn out she was -- in years gone by, she'd never bothered to recognize there was such a thing as options.

"Why do we need to talk?" Raising unapologetically dead eyes, Carly stepped back from the door, pulling it wide. "I said pretty much everything I had to say last night."

Alexis smiled frostily. "I didn't."

"No chance you're going to go away, then."

"It seems unlikely."

"Fine," she heaved a sigh and turned away and thumping heavily down the stairs to the living room. "I'm fresh out of effort, so can we do this fast?"

The door closed. "I can understand how yesterday's showstopper might take it out of girl."

Carly's stomach complained by tightening even further. "Yeah. I get it," She spun back to her new in-law. "I'm evil. I'm stupid. I'm embarrassing. Just tell me what you want to add to the list and we'll both get on with our lives."

Alexis was still standing on the landing -- wearing a crisp business suit and holding her briefcase in front of her. Her mouth was quirked and her eyes were narrowed. The appraising thing? It was in the genes. Clearly. Carly was about to scream just to push the woman out of her investigation when she finally spoke again.

"You're screwing up."

Awfully blunt talk for a Cassadine. It surprised her, but she refused to let it show, instead moving airily through the living room, pausing to plump a pillow. "Thanks for the bulletin."

"I'd prefer you not do that."

"I'll make a note. Got some paper?"

"I have dozens of papers," Alexis stated as she started down the stairs. "I still have the ones you signed last night -- assuming you still want me to file them."

Carly looked up quickly. "Is that a threat?"

Alexis's response was persistence veiled in a thin smile. "I'd really recommend you drop the attitude and talk to me."

Carly flopped down onto the couch. "I don't care what you do with them. Burn them if you want."

"I'm not kidding, Carly. If you want to act out like a three year old, you can do that. But if you want my help -- I need to talk to the adult."

Carly's scalp prickled. She turned her head slowly towards the lawyer, barely able to work out what part of the statement she should respond to first. Her brain kept sticking on one little detail, though, and the words she tossed back were "Your help?"

"Yes."

"With what?"

"The Art of Being Cassadine?"

Carly's incredulity turned to alarm. The hell? She glanced quickly at the windows, but there were no looming shadows looking in. She looked back at the woman, her eyes narrowed. "Does Nikolas know you're here?"

Alexis smiled wanly as she descended the stairs. "I've don't think Nikolas will ever let me near you if he's not around to monitor every word I say. Not by choice."

Carly felt a weird mixture of vindication and annoyance at those words -- not sure if she was relieved to have someone allude to Nikolas's managerial approach to life, or ticked off that they were saying something negative about him.

"Why do you figure that is?" she asked, opting for outward suspicion. Alexis shrugged, swinging her briefcase onto a nearby chair.

"I'm not certain. It could be that he doesn't trust anyone else with you. It could be that he's worried that if I don't put things to you in exactly the right way, I'll scare you away," she mouth quirked. "Or he could just be a control freak."

"Hey."

"Oh, he comes by it naturally. We all do." She crossed her arms and stood, one leg cocked, while she gave Carly a look she hadn't encountered since her run-ins with the Vice Principal in high school. "I've come to suspect that if you were going to be scared away, Carly, it would have happened by now."

"Ok," Carly pushed out her breath, sitting forward on the couch and meeting Alexis's gaze with steely determination. She had not gone through the disenchantment of yesterday morning, the humiliation of visiting her uncle, and the hell of last night just to curl up in a whimpering ball now. "Do you people every just come out and SAY anything? Talking to this family is like living in the middle of a cryptogram."

"I'm a lawyer and a Cassadine -- it's a deadly combination."

"What do you WANT?" Carly just let herself scream in frustration. "Do you want to give me your list of compelling reasons why my marriage is doomed? I've heard it all -- And it doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere."

"Glad to hear it."

The air rushed out of her lungs. She fell back against the couch, awash in extinguished frustration. "What, is that some kind of joke?"

"No. No, it's pretty far from it." Alexis exhaled and glanced around the room. "No one in this family has much sense of humor about Nikolas. We just have different ideas about how to handle it -- Do you have anything to drink?"

Carly gestured towards the breakfast cart that was still sitting surreptitiously in the corner. "What do you mean -- Handle what?"

"'It'." She said the word with great importance as she crossed to the cart. "Is something Cassadines do not discuss with non-Cassadines. Ever." She paused while she poured a tumbler of water -- then started to pour a second one. "Which begs the question -- Are you one of them? Or are you one of us?"

Carly's hands turned into fists. She was really getting sick of this. "I'm Nikolas's wife," she pointed out for what had to be the hundredth time.

"Right..." She picked up both glasses and started back to the couch. "But there's a difference between marrying the man and marrying the family --" she sat down on the far end of the couch and extended one arm, handing Carly the unrequited glass of water. "I want to talk to you about the family."

Carly looked at it critically, then took it in place of argument. If worse came to worse, at least it gave her something to throw. "I've already had this conversation."

"With Stefan."

"Yeah. So it's covered."

She felt the woman's eyes on her for a long moment before she asked, pointedly, "How much did he offer you?"

Carly stared into the depths of the tumbler. Not nearly enough. "He didn't tell you anything, did he?"

"Not strictly speaking, no."

"Well --" She nodded into the glass, then took a quick sip as if the contents were something much stronger. "You're not getting it out of me either. Sorry you wasted the trip."

"I don't need to get any details," Alexis crossed her legs smoothly before continuing. "I've been in this family from birth, it doesn't take much effort for me to guess them -- It won't take Nikolas long, either."

The prickling sensation was back. Carly took a swig of her drink. "Oh well."

"I'm assuming there was money involved, because it's the only reason I can think of for you to get a job in response. And the fact that it's with Luke... That suggests that there was either an argument about your heritage. Either that, or he got into the whole Cassadine Legacy."

Carly gave a strangled laugh. "Might have come up."

Alexis regarded her with a raised brow. "I don't suppose anyone in the family's let you in on what it is I do here."

"Bite the heads off bats, pull the wings off flies?" She really really had to stop talking. Alexis, however, looked prepared for the jab.

"Metaphorically speaking... I can give you that." She leaned back against the arm of the couch. "I hold things together. That's pretty much the whole job description. Wolves at bay, loose threads accounted for. I used to do that by the dictates of my illustrious brother, but..." she gestured vaguely with her glass. "Things change."

"While we're sharing," Carly swirled the liquid around in the glass. "I figure you might as well know this much. I trust you about as much as I trust your brother," she looked up at her, her eyes glistening. "Which is about none at all."

Alexis held her eyes a long moment -- long enough to make Carly want to look away. She was sick of turning away from the scrutiny, though. There was no point in pretending she was anything other than their worst nightmare, right? Still -- it was only fair to say that Alexis's next question surprised her.

"How much did you trust him twenty-four hours ago?"

Carly's hand tightened around the glass. Her eyes filled with tears. Damnit, damnit, damnit.

"I told you -- I know this family. And I know Stefan. His motives aren't... unforgivable. But they're always about Nikolas. Nikolas before anything else. And he's not known for wrestling with his conscience when it comes to who he runs over." She took a breath. "He was nice to you. I know that. He acted like your friend, and then he changed the rules on you."

Acted. She downed the rest of her drink in one long gulp. Forcing herself to swallow, to push down the lump in her throat. The second the glass was empty she leapt up and crossed to the cart again. She poured the second glass too quickly, splashing water over the back of her hand.

"Carly --"

"I know what you're doing."

Alexis got to her feet. "No."

"You're doing the same thing he did. Well -- Once bitten," she gave a strangled laugh, and turned back . "Twice shy."

"He's not a bad person."

Carly smirked and raised her glass. "Right. Gotcha."

"He's just protecting his son."

"And you're just protecting him!" The rage and frustration reached out and grabbed her by her throat. She threw the glass down onto the hardwood floor with both hands. Like some many other things, it exploded on impact. The water leapt and splattered. Silence descended and she stared at the shards of glass that surrounded her. Such a mess. This was just such a mess.

"I'm really done dealing with Cassadines," she muttered.

"Except for the one you married," Alexis pointed out quietly.

"Yep!" She pushed a hand through her hair. Her pulse was still racing and she tried to appear to the woman in front of her as if everything was utterly normal while her voice shook. "Nikolas, I like. Nikolas, I'm going to keep."

Alexis nodded, her eyes fixed on the shards of glass and their proximity to her newly inherited niece's feet. "Have you figured out how you're going to do that?"

Carly poked at the glass, gingerly with her toe. Her face heated, but she kept her voice low. "Get out."

"I think you really need to listen to what I have to say to you."

"You're here for the same reason he was!" she snapped her head up, meeting the woman's eyes defiantly. She was not giving in to embarrassment, or shame. She was not going to give in to anything. "You want something," she accused. "And I have no intention of giving it to you, so --"

"I want my nephew to be happy." Alexis stepped forward quickly, then stopped short, remembering the minefield Carly had created around herself. She threw her hands up and let out a helpless laugh. "That's why I'm here. I don't want Nikolas to go through any more pain than he already has. Occasionally I entertain the idea that he's karmically due for some happiness. Right now there's only one person on earth with even an off chance of making that happen -- and that's you."

"You really expect me to buy that."

"What other reason do you think I could have?"

Carly shrugged in an imitation of nonchalance. The water was soaking into her socks. "Off the top of my head? Exterminate the wolf. Sounds like a good plan to me."

"It's far too late now," Alexis crossed her arms in a manner that suggested she'd be doing just that if she saw the point. "He's in love with you. I know that. More than that, I respect it."

It was hard to nail down what Carly found more jarring -- hearing Nikolas say those words to her, or hearing them from other people. She flushed, either way.

"That's great," her voice cracked, leaping up an octave mid-word. "What does it have to do with you?"

"I'm his family." Alexis steeped the word with enough meaning to make Carly flinch. She stared determinedly at the far wall and heard the Crusading Cassadine sigh, heavily. "And... I'm your lawyer. That gives me certain responsibilities," she stepped forward, kicking a particularly vicious looking fragment of glass out of her way. Clearing a path through the wreckage. "I'm going to start with trying to get you to sit down again before you cut yourself."

Carly looked down at the floor, then back at the woman in front of her. "I'm sure I'll survive."

"True," Alexis looked pointedly at the glass at Carly's feet. "But why put yourself through the unnecessary pain."

"Am I supposed to say something deep and steeped with meaning to that?"

"No," Alexis stepped back, giving Carly ample room to move around her. "You're mostly supposed to sit down and listen to me."

She frowned. "What's in it for me?"

Alexis smiled in such a way that it gave Carly a chill. "A chance at survival."

Nikolas had been staring at the designs on the oriental carpet of his father's study for so long that they had started to spin. Rich and deep colors, mixing together like cream swirling into coffee at his feet. It only added to the sick feeling he'd brought into the house with him and by the time Stefan had stormed into the room, his pervasive mood was one of great fatigue.

It wasn't like he savored these moments. And it wasn't like he hadn't done this a million times before. Novelty was a concept that was so distant it had reached unfamiliarity. But this... This he knew. He could count off the steps they'd take like running through positions in a Tai Chi repetition. It was difficult to reconcile -- when you know something this well, how on earth is it possible that you were going to go through it all again?

The papers had spilled across the floor and Nikolas leaned over to pick one up. It was standard office fair. Insignia in the top hand corner, and watermarked over the paper. He tipped it in the light, and it appeared, rising up under the words. He looked up and extended his hand. "You dropped this."

His father's features immediately assembled themselves into an expression of repudiation.

"You are developing quite a habit of taking me by surprise," he stated as he turned to round the desk. He started to gather the papers, eyes determinedly turned away while he asked "Is there a reason you did not permit Mrs. Landsbury to announce your arrival?"

Nikolas dropped his hand, still holding the memo. He wasn't seriously expected to answer that question. Except that, of course, he was. Because that was how things went. It was part of the game. Having some mild or entirely made up lapse in protocol thrown at him right when he felt ready to go after his father's throat.

He frowned at the paper in his hand. Stared at the words until they swirled the same way the carpet had. "Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun," he murmured under his breath, then raised his voice. "What did you do to her?"

He watched as his father fastidiously collected the papers on his desk into a neat stack. He set it on the corner of the desk. The lines ran precisely in line with the blotter. That done, he placed both hands flat on the desk top and finally looked across at his son.

"Nikolas," he started in a low, careful voice.

"Don't deny it. Please."

Their eyes remained locked. Staring at each other across space and time. Finally, Stefan spoke. "What would you have me say?"

"The truth. Just this once."

"I have told you -- "

"No." He sat back in his chair. "No, I told you -- I put it as plainly as I knew how. That if I lost her you would lose me." His fingers let go of the paper and he let it flutter back to the floor. "Did you think that was an idle threat?"

His father's mouth twisted into a frown. "Your marriage appears to be intact."

Nikolas raised his brow and let the words sit before pointing out the obvious. "Luke Spencer."

"Yes," Stefan exhaled. "That is a problem."

That was one way of putting it. And the confederacy suggested in his tone was ridiculous. The whole thing was just becoming steadily funnier, in that plagues, famine, flood, dead-pet sort of way.

"Do you know that she hates him?" he was amazed at how cold, how steady his voice was. "Nearly as much as I do. But she's gone to him. Because you did something. I'm asking you what that was."

His father stared at him over the desk. Eyes dark and utterly devoid of anything resembling regret. He did not speak. Nikolas smiled and bowed his head.

"I thought so."

"What would it benefit --"

"It might spark the slightest bit of trust," he exhaled. "But that's a lot to ask of one confession."

They stayed in silence. It was something they did well. There was some degree of honesty to it. Maybe even a sense of connection, of understanding. Certainly, it made it easier to imagine that there was actual communication occurring here. Right up until the next words were spoken. His father was kind enough to clear his throat in warning.

"You are mistaken."

"About what?" he lifted his eyes again. "Do you have any idea how much I miss believing in you?"

Stefan tipped his chin upward at the comment. The corners of his mouth twitched mightily and Nikolas watched him struggle. Open his mouth to speak, fail, and then turn away.

"It cannot be more than I miss your confidence," Stefan rasped, finally, his back turned to his son. The pain was real. He knew that. As little as he trusted his father, he still knew that much. Nikolas leaned forward in response to the suddenly contraction of his stomach. Elbows on knees to steady himself. To make things feel solid. He closed his eyes tightly, while he drew in his breath.

"Do you know what I've been thinking about while I waited for you?" he asked, feeling the words grate as they left his throat. "I've been trying to understand how I can be so certain that you love me -- when everything you do seems to say, over and over again, that you don't trust me. You don't respect me. And you don't want me for your son."

He heard his father turn. When his voice came, his words were cold, angry and expected. "That is nothing short of blasphemy."

"I know." Nikolas swallowed against a rising sickness. "But it feels as real as anything you've ever said to me."

"You know why your paternity was kept secret."

"Yes," Nikolas smiled slightly. "I know why. What I've never understood is how." He shook his head. "And there's no point in discussing that, because I never will. I don't want to. I don't want to decide that keeping that kind of secret is something I understand. I don't want to know why it was acceptable for the entire world to think I belonged to someone else. Why you didn't want to find a way to claim me. Or why, now, when I promise you that if you take her away from me..." The bile leapt up again, burning his throat. He felt tears he'd thought he'd banished sting his eyes. "You tried to get rid of her."

"No."

He forced himself to push the air out of his lungs before speaking. "You either offered her money or you threatened her. Because she ran to Luke for something and the only thing that makes any sense is protection. From you."

"Nikolas."

Nikolas closed his eyes. The tone in his father's voice was not one to be trifled with. He just didn't feel up to answer it's call. He knew he'd have to. He knew it was inevitable. This could not be the entirety of what would happen in this room. But this might be the only part he'd know how to live with, later.

"Nikolas," his father spoke again. "Look at me."

His father was standing, at full height, with his head craned around to look at Nikolas. His eyes were cold fury. His mouth was tight and still. His hands were what gave him away. Tightened into fists so tight that they shook. Knuckles white against red digits. Nikolas's eyes moved over him in short spasms. Unable to just let them rest. Stay in one place. He fought against it and it wasn't until he managed to look his father in the eye, unflinchingly, that the man continued. "Do you understand what sort of woman you've married?"

"God, not you too."

He was not to be deterred. "Can you fathom -- as you question my appreciation of any role as your father -- what it is like to watch your child embark on a journey that will -- at best -- break his heart --"

"And at worst?" The words came out clipped and baiting. A taunt, but the way his father reacted, the revulsion that seemed to shoot through him -- he knew he'd hit on something important. Something central to what was happening here. He sat up. "Father --"

"She has shot ex-lovers."

"She shot Tony Jones!" he vaulted out of his chair, standing for the first time since his father had entered the room. He would not be categorized with that man. He just wouldn't be. "Who had kidnapped her son. What would you have done in her place? -- And before you answer that, remember who you're talking to."

Stefan turned to face him full on. "What about Jason Morgan? Are you aware of what she did to him?"

Nikolas shook the thoughts that name invited out of his head. "Jason Morgan doesn't matter."

"Is that part of your plan, then? To ignore her past behavior, her past relationships and the men she --"

"STOP IT!" Anger flared, pushing the words out of him, heating his entire body in a rush. He sucked in his breath, and stepped back from the edge. He put a hand up, as his father started towards him and shook his head. Waited until the fire started to abate before he let himself speak again. Slowly and carefully. "I know about Jason Morgan," he stopped to breathe again, before continuing. "I know more than you could possibly find by research and old police records. And I know about Tony Jones. I know about AJ Quartermaine. I know what she's done."

Stefan lips were pressed into a thin line. "You know about AJ Quartermaine."

"In detail."

His father scowled. "Then you cannot begrudge me my concern."

"No," Nikolas dropped his hand. "Not your concern. But I definitely take exception to your interference."

There was a spark that went through Stefan right before rage took hold of him. If you knew him well enough, you'd spot it even when he wasn't going to act on it. That morning, it looked like a small explosion. Like something in him had actually burst.

"ENOUGH!" He thundered, as all the blood in his body rushed to his head. "I will not apologize for actions that you have made necessary!"

"And how have I done that?" Nikolas shot back.

"With your petulant refusal to keep me informed! I have asked questions you have refused to answer! You have rebuffed my overtures towards her. You vanish! You take great pains to ensure I do not know where or how you are! This is UNACCEPTABLE! You know this is unacceptable!"

Nikolas felt the rush of shame even as he swore he would not. "I didn't say anything because I knew you would do this! I knew you would use it against us!"

"Any tolerance I have shown that girl," Stefan pushed his voice down deep into his chest. "ANY attempt I have made to understand her motives and actions, is due to your feelings for her!" He stopped dead as his voice began to shake. Shinning eyes staring intently into his son -- he stepped forward, reaching for him and Nikolas didn't move a muscle. He didn't want to get drawn into this, he didn't want to let his father do this. But he didn't move and some distant and small part of him was comforted by the warmth of his father's hand on the back of his neck. The familiarity of he gesture. Though it forced his eyes to look directly into the man in front of him. "There is a limit," he started, his voice low and rumbling. "A limit to how much I can overlook. She is a dangerous woman, Nikolas. I believe that without question."

Nikolas nodded slightly. "I know." He could see that conviction, swimming with frustration, fear, fury. It had to be hell. To stand on the outside of this. "You know me better than anyone on this earth... " he murmured. "You have to know what I'm going to say." His father's brow furrowed further and Nikolas stepped back, removing himself from his grip. He turned away, staring a moment at the book-lined wall beside him. Then glanced back to his father with sympathetic resignation. "I don't care."

A tremor ran through his body like a current. The words were undeniably true. And undeniably terrifying. His watched his father's face nearly convulsed in an effort not to display the full brunt of his disturbance.

"Not even to protect yourself."

That was funny. As if self-preservation was anything short of a luxury. He shook his head, determinedly. "She did all those things -- Everyone knows that. It doesn't matter. I knew that the first time I spoke to her -- and I knew it when I asked her to marry me. And what I didn't know, she made sure I found out before any vows were made."

His father looked at him in honest bewilderment and spit out something he'd probably been holding in for weeks. "WHAT possessed --"

"Love." Nikolas didn't wait for the end of the question. "The promise of it. That was enough. That was all I needed." He watched his father, looking for some flicker of understanding. "You act like you think I'm insane."

Stefan ignored the comment, pressing forward determinedly. "I have tried -- many times over many years -- to try to make you understand --"

"That you do all of this for my own good," Nikolas rubbed a hand over his face. "I know. That you do it because you're compelled by some basic animal instinct to protect me from outside forces. I get that." He laughed slightly and lifted his head. "There isn't anything special or unique about our conflict, father. This is just what happens when you grow up. I'm supposed to leave. And you're supposed to let me."

Stefan's body moved forward and then snapped back like he was on the end of a pull cord that had reached it's end. He took several steps back from him, bringing in air as he moved. Inflating. Gathering power.

"WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO?" He demanded in a voice to shake the walls, rip the sky. "You have shut yourself so far away from me, from the world... And now you tell me this! You stand here and tell me you would gladly suffer again. That you are willing to risk --"

"EVERYTHING!" Nikolas had not felt his own explosion until blasted out of him. Bringing with it every ugly emotion he had been fighting off for the last twelve hours. "I'll risk EVERYTHING for her." He moved forward, closing he distance his father had put between them. Making sure that the truth was clear, that it could be seen -- if not in his voice, than in his eyes. "If you could promise me -- if you could draw me a map of my future and demonstrate exactly how Carly will end up destroying me... Do you really think that would make a difference?" Stefan stood in front of him, mouth tight, expression closed. Nikolas's eyes darted over his face to catch his answer. "No -- because you know me well enough to see the truth in that. That's why you're so scared. Because I know this could ruin me... and I'm doing it anyway."

The corners of his father's mouth turned downward. In anger. In disgust. It was a look Nikolas hated with every fiber of his being. "If that is how you feel," Stefan ground out, "It is as good at inviting annihilation on your own head!"

Nikolas let the word hit him. Annihilation. The act of reducing something that is to nothing at all. Beyond destruction. Beyond anything that can be repaired. His father was right... He'd been staring it in the face since the night he'd met her. She'd beckoned him down the path and he'd followed willingly. Eradication or love. One or the other, but she held the promise of both. And the truth was... He'd welcome either, in the right circumstances. He was twenty-one years old and he'd felt this heaviness for as long as he could remember. It felt endless... and looking down the barrel of a lifetime of more of the same... How did you chose not to follow? How could that be an option? He was either going to be happy -- eventually, and finally happy. Finally something. Or he wouldn't be anything. He might be fighting for one, but if he lost it... The other option was inevitable.

He hadn't realized he was even smiling until he heard himself start to laugh. At the ridiculousness of it, the bizarre words, the seriousness with which his father said them. The conviction. It was all absurd. It was stupid. And it was not worth the breath they were wasting. He threw back his head and yelled up to the plaster molding above him, "SO BE IT!" He looked up at his father, and just couldn't seem to stop smiling at the fury in front of him. "I'm curious. What do you think I'm doing here on this earth that is so fulfilling, that is so important, that I wouldn't gladly turn it in to be with her? If I even try to think about my life without her... " he'd started to shake. Just like that. No more slight shivers this time. His hands looked like those of a man in deep withdrawal. "I'm not talking about choice here. You have to know that. I'm talking about necessity," he choked on the word. Ugly. And weak. And so very true. "It's need. Isn't that disgusting? Frailty. Compulsion. And one last thing I cannot have taken away from me!"

His father was staring at him now, and it didn't seem very real. Like looking into a mirror that gives you another reflection. His father looked scared. He looked horrified. "Nikolas --"

"Don't make me choose!" He yelled at him. Finally, finally letting that out. He knew why he was really here. He knew what his father's actions meant and the pain that sliced through him at the thought of it was unbearable. "Not you! NOT YOU, on top of everyone else..." His sense of the absurd, twisted inside him. Mixing in with that deadening fear and desperation. "Since Carly happened... Every time I turn around someone else is saying me or her! Every... Every friend I had," his mouth twitched in sick humor. "They're gone, because I couldn't choose them. I had to choose HER. I let them go and I didn't fight for them because I knew I couldn't have both! That's what you're doing here. You're telling me I can't have both, I can't have my wife AND my father." His voice cracked on his last word and the tears came, unwelcome and stinging his eyes. "You can't do this to me," he breathed. "Why don't you understand that? YOU CAN'T do this!"

The room swam in front of him, the edges softening, blurring -- becoming intangible, false. But his father's face, mouth agape in dawning horror, was clear in front of him. He saw the anguish, the pity as Stefan reached out for him.

"Get away from me!" Nikolas backed up quickly, not about to pulled into accepting comfort this time. He threw his arm across his eyes, wiping at the tears and swearing violently. This was not supposed to happen. It couldn't. He forced air into his lungs, and when it did nothing to calm him, nothing to relieve the pounding he could hear in his ears, he lifted his head, determined to fake a fortitude he couldn't find. "I know how that sounds," he exhaled. "Believe me. I know exactly how desperate and pathetic I am." He looked at his father -- pale and shaken -- and allowed a short, ugly burst of laughter bubble out of him. "It's comic," he muttered. "It's more than that. It's poetic justice." He stepped forward, again. "All the times you told me something that was untrue. All the times you designed my world so that I'd come to the conclusions you wanted me to -- for whatever reason -- did you really think it would all be without consequence?" He threw his arms out, inviting inspection. "You made me into this! The things you told me over the years, the things you had me believe... Not just about you," He paused, feeling his mouth go dry. Do not venture there, a voice inside him urged. Don't even dare... "But about her."

"Nikolas," Stefan spoke in a constricted whisper.

"You made me believe," His chest tightened dangerous. "That love -- real love from a woman -- was the most precious commodity on earth because it was the only thing I didn't have. You tried to act like I should be above it -- But. Look what you were willing to do in the name of it."

His father was already shaking his head before Nikolas had even finished his statement. "You cannot know -- you cannot know the love I felt for you. The purity of my intentions --"

"You forget, father. The truth is out. I know your history with Laura --"

"Do you?" he demanded. "How can you? How can you presume to have any idea, the things that happened before you were born!"

"Why?" the tears were stinging his eyes again. "Why won't you just admit it? Admit that she colored your actions --"

"EVERYTHING I did, I did to protect you!"

"YOU TOLD ME MY MOTHER DIDN'T WANT ME!" The words ripped out of him. "That she left me without thought, without concern! WHAT was that to protect me from? How did you think that was going to serve me?"

The line of his father's mouth turned bitter and vicious. "And did she relieve you of that mistaken impression when you finally laid eyes on her? Did she welcome you with open arms? Cry tears over the injustice that took you away from her for all those years? Or did she not tell you to go home."

He closed his eyes. "Don't," he said, softly. It was a plea.

"She did leave you," His father stepped closer. He could feel the change in the air. "I did not invent that, Nikolas. She left you with me while she ran across the world after that man --"

"She left both of us." Nikolas's eyes snapped open and he turned his head back to his father. "Isn't that what really happened? She left me when grandmother wouldn't allow her to come back. But she left you the day she went to find Luke Spencer." He took a breath. "And that's what you punished her for. That's why you let me think she hated me. So that I would hate her. Whatever your reasons -- conscious or otherwise..." He shook his head. He could feel the cold coming. Uninvited, but always there. Always willing to help. "You're right," he breathed. Smiled slightly. "You're always right. Time absolves you of any real blame. Nothing you ever warned me about didn't come true. But that doesn't change the lies. It doesn't change what I felt and it doesn't change the fact that..." He stopped dead. There was a limit to how much he'd share, even with his father. "You think that Carly will destroy me. You think that, if I stay in this marriage, I'll end up dead or worse. I can promise you, the same will happen if I lose her. I can't --" Can't be left again. Can't be. He felt a blinding pain flare up at the idea. His gut twisted. His head swam. "No." His eyes turned to the door. Focused. "I shouldn't have come here."

"Nikolas." Stefan stared at him. Still wound up in his anger and fear. Still very much unsettled and unprepared for his son to walk away from him. "You've given me little chance to defend myself."

"That's the thing," Nikolas sighed in exhaustion. "You don't need to." He looked back down at the floor. The papers were still scattered, in honor of his father's honest disturbance. "I'll forgive you for this," he admitted. "I know I will, it's inevitable. Because no matter how much I hate what you do, the love always wins out." His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tightening and he forced out the next words. "But I'm not going to feel guilty for the choices you made." He back at his father in resignation. "You made me. From the blood in my veins, on. I am who I am because of you." He smiled a moment, letting the truth of that really sink in. "It's not my responsibility to make you comfortable with who that is."