Chapter Eighty-Six:
Wild Horses

Carly stepped off the launch at Spoon Island and breathed in the air. It was cooler out here – something she’d forgotten – and surprisingly familiar. She’d done the math on the way over – she and Nikolas hadn’t spent that much time here. One really bad week –

But still. They’d chosen this place as their home. For the few days she’d been happy here, she’d even tried to turn it into their home. And she missed the house. She hated that, but it was true. The Guest House was beautiful, and the minute she’d walked into it she’d felt like she was home. Giving it up had been a particularly bitter side effect of finding out just how diabolical Nikolas’s father was.

Giving up having the stables a few yards from the house, even worse.

She half expected to run into Stefan on the stairs, but if he knew she was coming, he was taking a more strategic approach. She hesitated all the same at the path towards Wyndemere itself. It was an option she’d entertained a few times over the past few weeks, actually seeking the man himself out. But then what?

She didn’t have an answer, and none of the upheaval of the past week has helped her in that regard. She steeled herself and turned towards the stables. There were a couple of stable hands, both of whom she’d met the couple of times she’d been out there with Nikolas. They were attentive and excessively helpful, quickly moving to saddle Cinnamon, while reassuring her that the horse had been well-cared for in her absence. She nodded absently, willing the whole thing to be over. They wanted to help her mount, so she let them, and then… Then she got to ride.

She’d gotten to take Cinnamon out exactly three times before everything had melted down around them. Their connection, unbelievably, hadn’t weakened over the course of time, and the horse responded to her as seamlessly as she ever had. She wasn’t that used to the northern terrain, but then – neither was Carly. Having ridden at a fair clip up to the far side of the island, she let the horse slow to a trot as they picked their way along a path that led along the cliff side.

The ride has been exhilarating and grounding at the same time, and Carly actually found herself smiling as she looked out at the lake. How bad could her life really be? I mean, yes, she wasn’t exactly sane, and she had lost custody of her son – those were not minor problems. Those were problems worthy of major consideration and misery. But Kevin was right. She had a path out. And she wanted to take it. Obviously. Take the path, be less miserable, keep the man she was apparently desperately in love with, get her son back and live happily ever after.

So there was no reason – except for the aforementioned insanity – for her to feel anything but delighted about this plan. Totally normal. All systems go.

Except all she felt, really, was intense and crippling fear. And it was powerful – it was oppressive, and bleak and it wanted her to think about almost anything other than whether or not Kevin was right.

This was probably because, if Kevin was right, then she’d designed her life to suck this much. And, to a degree, she absolutely had. She had lied, cheated and stole – identities, husbands… In the name of revenge, in the name of survival. Some of it had worked in the moment – or got her by for a little while. Some of it had been devastating. And the only thing that had come close to teaching her any kind of lesson was what had happened with Michael.

Because she’d done that. She knew, deep down, how true that was. It was so true, it took her breath away. She had lost him because she’d done bad things. It was that simple. She hadn’t been able to find another way to hang on to anything, and she had let Jason become more important than Michael, just for a moment, and it had all fallen apart. She should never have messed with AJ. She should have known better. And she deserved what she got.

Her stomach seized so violently that she pulled up on the reigns and brought Cinnamon to a stop on the path. She dismounted unsteadily, patting her hand on the horse’s neck as she ducked around her and into the trees. She leaned back against a towering maple and closed her eyes.

THIS. This was it – what she never wanted to think about, what she couldn’t live with if she didn’t find a way to deny it. How completely and utterly this whole thing was her fault. What kind of mother was she? What kind of human being? And how the hell could she possible hope to hold on to what she had – to hold on to Nikolas – if she was this depraved? He had to see it, eventually. He had to.

God, maybe he had. She’d been awful to him. She’d told him the truth about everything – he knew what she’d done. Why wasn’t he leaving?

Well. Sex.

She felt another wave of nausea. She couldn’t stand this. She didn’t want to think about this, think about him, their future. She had to get out of here. If not the path, the island, then maybe the city. SOMETHING. There had to be something that would make her feel better, stop feeling this raw and exposed.

She took in several deep breaths, willing herself not to actually get sick. She couldn’t leave, of course. She’d promised to stay. And right now, those few weak promises to Nikolas were about the only thing keeping her afloat.

She found herself smiling at that thought – suddenly and unexpectedly. So there was one thing she was doing right. She was keeping that promise. And if it got, occasionally, difficult… well, that had to be some sign of progress, right?

She straightened up, feeling like the storm might just be passing. Which, actually, was a little on the ironic side because some dark clouds were amassing over the lake. God, Spoon Island and its insane weather. She had to get back to the mainland or get stuck here with –

Horse hooves. She jerked her head up at the sound of an approaching stallion. Oh…. Goody.

Stepping out of the brush Carly reached Cinnamon just as Stefan Cassadine appeared cresting the hill. She wrapped the reigns around her hand and stepped back against the horse like she was a shielding her from an oncoming attack. Which, she supposed, she probably was. Well. She knew she was risking this – she knew he wasn’t going to work, where else would he be?

Still. Hope springs eternal. Or maybe hope just gets sick of waiting.

His horse trotted to a stop just down the path, and he stayed mounted, which served to make him more intimidating, more ridiculously and archaically noble. She should have been upset. The last time she’d really let herself consider him – as someone she knew, had interacted with, not just as Nikolas’s father – the pain had been terrible. Now… Now, she mostly felt tired. Defense mechanism, but she’d take it.

“I can’t deal with you right now,” she told him, craning her neck upwards to try to meet his gaze. “My head is too full.”

“Surely you expected to find me here.”

“If I went looking for you, sure. But I didn’t. I was just sick of not riding my horse so that I wouldn’t have to run into you.”

“Caroline – the time has long past for us to talk.”

“It’s Mrs. Cassadine to you, and you can talk to Nikolas. I’m out of the bridge mending business, as it turns out.”

“Really?” he raised his brow, and she noticed the sky was very nearly swirling around him. This was inadvisable weather for him to come looking for. But, she guessed that wasn’t much of a surprise. Everything else about Stefan might have been a lie – but the obsessive love for Nikolas? That was real and predictable. He probably thought she could help him. He was probably right.

“You sound surprised,” her voice was dull and devoid of any real interest.

“Given your recent congenial interactions with your long-estranged cousin, I’m surprised to hear that.”

Oh, God. Of course. Fucking Cassadines and their god damned minions. Those coffee drinkers! She tried to remember if they’d had accents. “You’re ridiculous,” she spat. “And Lucky, actually, is way less threatening to my life as I know it than you are.”

“Though perhaps not to Nikolas.”

She laughed. “Nice try. But, actually, Lucky is the opposite of a threat to Nikolas. Lucky is the only person as obsessed with his well-being as you are.”

That might have been an exaggeration, but not by much. Bobbie was probably as bad. And she … Well, she could probably leave them both in the dust. Which was a good reason to actually talk to his father – or a good reason not to. That was hard to track.

“I did not come out here to fight with you.”

“Well,” she sighed, turning away from him. “You must have known it was a very real possibility.”

“I expected you sooner.”

Her face heated. She knew why – he expected her to meddle, to try and change the state of things. Or take revenge. He expected some overblown emotional gesture. Because that’s what she did – that is what she always did. She forced herself to put a foot in the stirrup. She wasn’t going to engage. She was going to leave. Let’s hear it for the path less traveled by.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” She heaved herself up and onto the saddle. Took a minute to gather up the reigns and get her bearings.

“You know there’s no solving things between Nikolas and I.”

“I don’t talk to him about it,” she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes directly. She immediately regretted it. He didn’t look as imperious, now that they were nearly on the same footing. He looked tired, and he looked worn. He also looked angry – which was impressive, given how tightly he usually held on to himself at times of manipulation. “And I don’t trust you. Because I’m not an idiot. Not anymore, at least.”

“I am prepared to admit wrong doing where you are concerned.”

She hated him a bit right then. Wrong doing. Emotional sadism. Whatever.

“You don’t get to pull my strings anymore, Geppetto,” she pulled back on the reigns and Cinnamon dutifully turned towards the path. “I’ll have to catch you at the next family reunion.”

With that, she urged her horse into a gallop and Cinnamon sped her from the scene. They hadn’t gone far when there was a loud crack of thunder and the sky light up around them. Cinnamon reared slightly, and Carly pulled her into a trot, stroking her neck. The skies opened moments later and she glanced upwards into the cloudburst, murmuring “thanks”. They were less than five minutes down a difficult path to the stables, but Cinnamon remained in control of faculties and returned her to the stable in good time, without either of them losing any ground.

She was, however, already soaked through. The stable hand rushed to helped her dismount, and spoke to her in rapid Greek while pulling out a blanket from a wooden chest by the far stall. Carly didn’t speak a word of his language, but the gist was hard to miss – he was either extremely concerned that she would catch cold (and he would lose his head as a result), or he was apologizing for not having predicted the downpour. She allowed him to wrap the blanket around her shoulders as she soothed Cinnamon.

“It’s ok, I’m good,” she tried to reassure him. “Mr. Cassadine might need help, though – he was still up on the bluff…” her voice trailed off as they both realized that hard beat on the ground was no longer just the rain but something heavily, faster – she spun around just in time to see the dark mass of Stefan’s stallion race past the stable door, hooves heavy on the path,

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Oh my GOD!” She dropped the reigns in her hand and bolted for the door. Heard the voice of the stable hand behind her, but didn’t bother to stop as she turned into the downpour and started back up the hill. She ran – slipping and grabbing onto bent cedar branches as she scrambled up the limestone rocks just behind the stables. She didn’t have to go far, he must have followed not long after her. Through the branches, right as she hit the top of the slope, she saw him – his body lying crumbled across the path, his face turned towards the sky.

Carly shivered as she stood in the austere marble foyer and waited for Mrs. Landsbury to come back with a towel. She was clutching her cell phone in one hand, and while she was cold, she suspected that she was more terrified than anything else. If she got nothing else out of her relationship with Tony, she found herself reflecting not for the first time, at least it got her the hell out of nursing school -- because she was not cut out for this stuff.

He’d been unconscious when she found him. Unconscious and bleeding – the blood from a head wound, she’d managed to forget, could be the stuff of horror movies, and it had been pouring over his forehead. Her heart had dropped into her stomach and she’d gone down on her knees beside him. She quickly checked his pulse – strong – and forced herself to draw in an enormous breath.

She had not kinda sorta killed her father-in-law. Things were looking up.

The stable hand had followed up her up the path and immediately ran for help. At a loss for anything else to do, she found herself grabbing his hand and holding onto it tightly. "No permanent damage," she growled at him. She was absolutely NOT calling Nikolas to tell him anything other than moderately bad news about his father. No. No way.

When she'd heard the sounds of people, she'd let out a yell to let them know where they were, and immediately heard Stefan groan. The shock of it had led to her drop his hand and lean directly over him. “Hey,” she’d blocked some of the downpour, her hair falling against his face. “Mr. Cassadine? Stefan? Can you hear me?”

He’d let out a louder, more irritated sound and his eyes had fluttered open and he’d struggled to focus. She could tell when he’d managed it, because his face had registered something akin to horror.

“Don’t worry,” she’d muttered, glowering back. “You’re not in hell. It's just Port Charles.”

He’d stumbled over his words, slurring them, it seemed; he’d tried to sit up. She’d pressed him back onto the ground. “No way. We’re calling an ambulance.” She had looked up at the approaching minion who was closest to her. “Aren’t we?”

The man had ignored her question spoken directly to Stefan in Russian – the language she then realized he’d been trying to speak to her in. She’d watched her father-in-law struggle before shaking his head and insisting “nyet”.

She knew maybe one word in Russian – that one – and she’d sat back on her heels in surprise. “Nyet? NYET? Are you kidding me? You just got thrown from a horse. You need to get to a hospital. Maybe the one you own.”

Stefan proved that, no matter how shaken he might be, he wasn’t totally damaged when he leveled a haughty glare in her direction and finally found his English. “That will not be necessary.”

“You might want to tell that to your gaping head wound.”

He’d shaken his head and clearly regretted it. “Caroline. I am very aware,” he’d then stopped to take another breath and winced. “Of your position where I am concerned.”

Another pause, and Carly had jumped on it. “I don’t think you are – “

“And I relieve you of your duties…” Another pause. He couldn’t seem to get enough breath.

“You hit your head, you might need stitches, and you’ve probably broken some ribs. They probably won’t even admit you, but –“

“Caroline. I am not your concern. Get out of the rain.” He turned then, and slid into Russian, giving instructions to the men that surrounded them.

The minions had obeyed him, with two coming forward to lift him to his feet. He couldn’t walk, as it turned out, and they held most of his weight as they worked to move him back towards the house. Carly watched with growing dread. They were faithful to his own determent, she was absolutely positive. She felt a momentary wave of relief that Nikolas wasn’t the prince anymore. More than that, that he was married to her, because she wasn’t EVER going to allow him to ever be quite this spectacularly stupid. Which, it occurred to her, was the first time she’d ever been able to come up something absolute that she could provide him with – her own vested interest in his well being.

And, of course, information. Which she had to give him now. Mrs. Landsbury had a distinct gleam in her eye when she'd asked Carly if she needed a phone and she knew that it was going to fall to her, letting Nikolas know that his father was both injured and refusing treatment. Mrs. Landsbury was going to get him horizontal and probably clean up the blood, but the rest...

Somehow the ball had landed in her court. She took a deep breath and dialed up Nikolas's work number.

Then she hung up. She couldn't do it. She couldn't tell him that she'd had a fight with his father and now he was hurt and being an idiot. She couldn't call him up and hand him another problem to solve -- even if this one wasn't entirely of her own making.

She had to do something first. She had to come up with an answer for him.

She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and dialed the Brownstone.

Bobbie ran along the slick wood of the docks, her nurse’s kit in one hand and a bright red umbrella in the other.

“Bobbie!”

She raised her head, peering through the rain towards the sound of her name. She saw her son-in-law waving from the bow of the launch to Spoon Island and sped up her already hazardous trip across Bannister’s Wharf.

“Nikolas!” she gave him a quick hug and he pulled her across the launch and into the shelter. She fell into her seat at the boat pulled away from the dock, and let herself catch her breath. “Are you just going over?”

Nikolas nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “Carly called me about fifteen minutes ago – we were about to leave when I saw your umbrella.”

“It’s the first time she’s talked to me all week,” Bobbie gasped, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “She sounded –“ She caught herself, realizing that Nikolas might not be the right audience for her to discuss Carly’s shaken report of what happened. “She said he wouldn’t go the hospital. Which, I have to say, certainly sounds like him.”

Nikolas nodded again, but didn’t speak. Bobbie leaned forward, trying to catch his eye. She reached out and put her hand on his forearm – it felt like steel. “Nikolas,” she tried to sound soothing. “He’s going to be alright.”

He shook his head, slightly, then cleared his throat. “Did she say how bad he was?”

Bobbie bit her lip. Carly had thought he needed stitches and suspected broken ribs and a concussion. “Head injuries –“

“Are unpredictable. I know. I’m a expert.”

She smiled a little. There was something familiar about this… So much time with Nikolas over the past few weeks, she’d noticed mostly the ways he was no longer the teenager who had been her de facto stepson. Right now, however… She knew this Nikolas. She remembered him well. “You’re right. I’d forgotten. It’s been awhile since we’ve had you at General Hospital as a patient.”

“Yes, I generally have the decency to stay unconscious long enough to be admitted.”

“Your father doesn’t like to lose control.”

“I know,” Nikolas very nearly snapped at her, then straightened up. She noticed for the first time how pale he was. “It’s a way of life for him.”

Bobbie nodded. She was only going to make things worse if she started to ask him questions, so she searched for something else to say. “Your father is too stubborn to let something like a fall from a horse do him any real damage. You know that.”

Nikolas nodded, though he didn’t seem to have taken what she was saying in. Bobbie sighed and took his hand. She was surprised at how firmly he returned her grip. She leaned her head against his shoulder and said the only thing that she could think of that might help.

“Besides. Carly and I have your back. If it comes to it, I think we can take him.”

“For the love of God, Barbara, this is ridiculous.”

Stefan Cassadine sat up in his four-poster bed, dressed impeccably in a silk robe thrown over his custom-made white shirt and riding pants. The effect was somewhat ruined by the ice pack he was holding to his head, and the mutinous expression on his face.

“I agree,” Bobbie shot back with more than a little frustration. “You refuse to see a doctor, you refuse to go to the hospital – alright. But I’m a qualified nurse with over twenty years experience, not to mention your ex-wife – and you won’t let me touch you. I’ve dealt with patients in pediatric who were more reasonable.”

“Regrettably, this is not my first fall from a horse.”

“Really?” Bobbie chirped with passive aggressive zeal. “Did you knock yourself silly any of the other times?”

“I was not ‘knocked silly’. I merely knocked the wind out of myself.”

“You were unconscious when I found you,” Carly spoke up from her seat the corner. “And then you were speaking Russian.”

“That,” Stefan spoke between gritted teeth, “is because I AM Russian.”

“Right. But I’m not. Usually you remember that.”

“Regardless,” he very nearly spluttered, turning his attention back to Bobbie. “There is no reason for you to poke and prod at me.

“I have sutures for your head – which you do appear to need – and I can tell you whether or not you have a concussion – and whether or not you need to see a doctor!”

“I do not,” Stefan started for the umpteeth time, “require a physician for minor cuts and scrapes.”

“You HIT your HEAD,” Carly actually sprang from the chair in frustration. “I’m not making that up. You were knocked out, you were disoriented and you are – at the moment – acting like someone who is totally out of his mind.”

“Perhaps you are right about that,” her father-in-law nearly hissed at her, “because – at the moment – I can’t appear to convince anyone of how completely without necessity all of this is!"

Bobbie shrugged. “You could let me do a cursory examination.”

“I do NOT –“

“Father.” It was the first time Nikolas had spoken, and the room immediately stilled. Stefan fussed with his shirt cuff a moment, before finally turning his gaze to his son.

“Nikolas,” he was working to look expectant, but his expression edged dangerously towards hope.

“Please.”

Nikolas held his father’s gaze until Stefan turned away. He took another moment to tuck his shirt cuff under the sleeve of his robe, and then nodded.

“Very well.”

Bobbie took a deep breath, and looked over at Nikolas, half relieved and half irritated that he’d waited so long to speak up.

“Excellent. If you two will give us a moment –”

“I hardly think THAT is necessary!” Stefan started to argue, but Carly had already marched over to Nikolas, grabbed him by the wrist, and started to pull him from the room.

“We’ll be in the hall,” she announced, glad to find that he was following her without resistance. She hadn’t had a second alone with him since he and Bobbie had burst through the door and the exes had started fighting. They left the door ajar, and Carly turned, taking both of her husband's hands as she pulled him wordlessly into a small enclave at the end of the hall. She wrapped her arms around waist, and pressed herself to his chest. After a moment, his arms came around her and he rested his head against hers.

“I’m sorry,” Carly whispered to him.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“He was out there because of me.”

“He’s an experienced horseman,” Nikolas’s voice was flat and lifeless. “He knew what he was doing.”

Carly pulled back a little, extricating herself from him. “I wasn't up to anything. Honest to God, I just wanted to see my horse.”

“I know. I was actually surprised that hadn’t come up earlier.”

Carly made a face and leaned into his arms again. “I told you I was going to stop causing you trouble."

"You didn't cause this."

She didn't say anything. He'd just argue with her. And he wasn't entirely wrong, it was just... she couldn't help but feel like she had. And not in some self-flagellating way, but in the same way she felt like she had caused what happened with Michael. It was just the long-reaching effects of her crazed plans. If she hadn't completely melted down and made the grand gesture with Luke's, then maybe things wouldn't have gotten to the point where Stefan Cassadine was riding out after her during an oncoming storm.

She wasn't so magnanimous that she was going to give Stefan a free pass on his insanity. But she had to start getting come practice with the concept of foresight. And she was bound and determined not to do anything to make this whole thing worse for Nikolas. She tightened her arms around him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Hmm. I believe you."

He didn't bother to argue either. She could tell he was shaken by how still he was being. When Nikolas was 'fine', he was articulate. When he wasn't 'fine', he was silent. She let him be silent. She didn't have much to add.

They were still wrapped in each other's arms a few minutes later when Bobbie stepped out into the hall. Carly sighed heavily. The me-oil, you-water feelings she'd been having towards Bobbie had somehow righted themselves. That had never been an intellectual enterprise, and there was something about how quickly Bobbie had come to the rescue today that had penetrated her lizard brain and was allowing her to look the woman in the eye. They'd have to talk; she figured she could push it until after she saw Michael.

"Well," she breathed as she reached them. "He has a minor concussion and his ribs are probably closer to bruised than cracked -- and he's still insisting that he's fine."

Carly noticed Nikolas's high tighten into a fist.

"So, what? He has a concussion, he's got to see a doctor, right?"

Bobbie wagged her head from side to side. "Ideally, yes. But honestly, the chances that he needs anything other than rest are as close to non-existent as I can guarantee. I think he should take some Advil and get some sleep. To be on the safe side, though, someone should probably sit with him.”

"I will," Nikolas answered like it was a reflex. "You can go back to the Brownstone." Both Carly and Bobbie gave him the exact same look of derision and he backed up slightly. "What?"

"Back to the Brownstone," Bobbie repeated.

"While you stay here with your cranky injured father."

Nikolas was somewhat bemused. “I’ve spent a lot of time with my father, cranky or otherwise, over the course of my life. I'll be fine.”

Bobbie and Carly exchanged another look and this time Nikolas's patience was wearing a bit thin when he demanded "What?"

Carly shook her head in absolute wonder. "You have been alone for a really long time."

Bobbie was nodding in agreement. "Yes. Come in from the wilderness."

"I'm going to need a translation."

"We're staying," they both spoke in near unison, though Carly sounded a lot more perturbed.

“You don’t have to,” he was having a difficult time letting this go. “I know you both hate it here—”

“God,” Carly muttered. “You know, it’s not just that you’ve never been married before. It’s that you’ve never even had a halfway decent girlfriend.” She glanced at her mother. “And yes, I just used Stefan’s head injury to slag on Robin. Sue me.”

“I can allow it under the circumstance,” Bobbie was starting to grin – which was just unnerving, given the circumstances. Nikolas felt the distant beginnings of a headache.

“What about Lucas?”

“He can get here on his own,” Bobbie started, only to be cut off by Carly.

“Nikolas. Do you WANT me to stay?”

Nikolas shifted his weight, feeling uncomfortable with this whole thing. If ever there was any doubt that he was Stefan Cassadine’s son, this conversation would put it to rest. Neither of them liked to appear vulnerable. And he couldn’t say that he wanted her to stay, because right then having Carly close at hand was the only thing that was keeping him upright. He couldn’t be some lost child or raging teenager – he had to be who she knew him to be. That was what was keeping him somewhat upright, because seeing his father diminished, however temporarily… He couldn’t think about that. And if he started to think about that, he did not want Carly to be around to see it.

“That’s…” He struggled with his breath a moment. “That’s not the point.”

“It really is. It’s kind of crazy that you don’t think it’s the point – but believe me. It’s the point.”

“Carly,” Bobbie really wasn’t missing a beat in the return to full-on mother-of-the-newlywed and her voice held a note of teasing disapproval. “He’s been through enough today. No, I’m going to call Lucas, he can bring us a change of clothes – and Nikolas, see if you can get your father to at least submit to a house call. We can absolutely get one of the clinicians from GH out here. Now, I suspect he’s just going tell you the same thing I just did – so what we need to do is figure out a schedule for tonight. You two are seeing Michael tomorrow, you’ll need some sleep – and frankly, you’re both better at keeping Lucas entertained, so I think I’ll go first. Provided you can get him to agree to see a doctor, Nikolas.”

Both Nikolas and Carly were left a little dazed in the face of so much efficiency, so they just nodded and Bobbie gave them an unnerving “excellent!” before striding off in search of Mrs. Landsbury and a phone.

Left alone with his wife in the hallway, Nikolas tried to gauge whether or not she was still irritated with him. Carly, however, was staring down the hallway after her mother.

“I should go back to him,” he admitted, more to himself than Carly. She nodded, then turned to him with a weak smile.

“You don’t have to ask me to stay,” she reached out and took his hand again. “It’s my default setting. I stay with you. That’s what I do.”

For a moment Nikolas thought the lights might have actually dimmed at the impossibility of anyone actually saying those words to him. He didn’t trust himself to respond – not with words, barely with actions – so he just leaned closer to her and brushed his lips across her cheek.

He finally managed a rough “thank you” whispered close and careful, next to her ear.

Stefan stirred for the first time in nearly an hour right before the clock struck midnight. And the clocks literally struck at Wyndemere. Bobbie had always been unnerved by that. She glanced up from her book, watching for a sign that he was actually waking. The doctor that Nikolas had managed to force on him had come and left without providing much more insight into the state of things than she’d been able to. They’d agreed to keep a launch at the ready and to head to the hospital if he displayed any signs of nausea or disorientation. He’d left some painkillers, which Bobbie had very nearly forced down his throat like she was dealing with a moody cat, and he’d been asleep for several hours now.

Nikolas had sat with him awhile before Carly finally forced him to go to bed. She’d taken over around ten and was trying her best to pretend it didn’t unnerve her to be here. Not only by his bedside – but by the bed they’d shared lo those many years ago. It would be lovely if she could forget that. Even better if she didn’t feel ever-so-slightly wistful about it.

He was a horrible husband. An infamously difficult man. It was probably predictable that he’d also been an astonishing lover. This was the luck of Barbara Jean Spencer.

It was more of just that sort of luck when he spoke to her just as she was remembering that aspect of their relationship.

“Barbara.”

By sheer force of will she didn’t jump out of her skin. Instead she murmured “Stefan,” as she turned a page of her book, and refused to look at him. She might be blushing. She really hoped she was not blushing.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you, too.” God, she supposed she’d have to actually look over at him. She was supposed to be a medical professional, after all. She raised her eyes and decided her initial instinct had been a strong one. He was rumpled and disheveled, and… far too familiar. She cleared her throat, hard. “Nikolas has gone to get some rest. I know you’d prefer it if he were hovering at your bedside, and I hope it comforts you to know he’d probably prefer it that way, too. But as we have rather forcefully pointed out to him this evening, you are not longer a party of two,” she glanced back at her book. “Or, as you’ve been working at lately, a party of one.”

“I am in no mood to be lectured.”

“That,” Bobbie found herself honestly agreeing with him, “is too bad. I know, when I found out our children had gotten married, I thought – oh, great. I’m going to have to deal with my incredibly manipulative ex-husband. You get to deal with your incredibly obnoxious ex-wife. We can call it a wash.”

“You are disturbingly chipper this evening.”

Bobbie nodded. She told herself not to bother talking to him, it couldn’t help – but it was distancing her from an inconvenient attraction, so she pushed on. “My daughter is speaking to me again. She wasn’t – you probably knew that – but apparently that’s over with.”

Well. She hoped.

“I didn’t know that you were having difficulties. As you pointed out to me not that long ago, you and I had experienced a reversal of fortune to your decided benefit.”

“And I’ve enjoyed it. Honestly, I think Nikolas has, too. He likes being at the Brownstone, he likes family chaos. He likes being a part of something.” She gave up on staying out of things and closed her book. “He misses you. You must know that. He can function without you – but he doesn’t like to.”

Stefan struggled to sit up a moment, tangled more than he’d normally find himself in the bed sheets and pillows. He fought them for a moment. He lost.

“That,” he muttered as he allowed himself to fall back against the bed, “is an attribute I cannot say that we share.”

Bobbie found herself smiling slightly. So much of the Stefan she’d married had been a lie – she appreciated the one thing that so clearly wasn’t. “Then you’d better find a way to do something about this before you get yourself permanently maimed.”

Stefan gestured weakly with his wrist. “At the moment, I am taking suggestions.”

She flat out laughed at that. She was almost certain he’d meant her to. “Well. Perhaps you should take them from Carly.”

He didn’t give a derisive snort, but he didn’t give an answer, either. Bobbie decided to call it a win anyway, and went back to her book.

Carly came out of the en suite in Nikolas’s rooms and thanked God that her brother had brought her something to sleep in. She could not have dealt with that flowing nightgown Mrs. Landsbury had left on the bed, and she honestly couldn’t remember if she had any clothes over at the Guest House. Lucas had crashed out in a room that was apparently where he’d slept during his reign as Stefan’s stepson. The implications of just who she’d decided to marry just kept unfolding in front of her…

Speaking of which – Nikolas was sitting where she’d left him when she’d gone to wash up: sitting upright on an antique chaise longue, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor. She thought, in their few brief months of marriage, that she’d seen Nikolas brood. She hadn’t had a clue.

“All done,” she murmured as she glanced around the room again. Nikolas’s “room” was more like a suite, honestly, and she kept expecting to find someone lurking in the corner. “So this is seriously where you slept when you were a teenager?”

Nikolas glanced up. “This is where I slept right up until the night I married you.”

“It’s … ornate.” She leaned cautiously against the wall across from him. “You look exhausted.”

“I should be so lucky.” His eyes trailed over her in her t-shirt and jersey shorts, and he held out a hand. She dutifully pushed herself off the wall and crossed to him. Took his hand, dropped one knee on the chaise, and brushed a kiss across his lips. He closed his eyes and didn’t bother to open then again when she straightened up.

“You should get some rest.”

“Can’t.”

She sighed and rested her forearms on his shoulders. “Why’s that?”

He opened his eyes again and looked up into her face a long moment before admitting “I’m vacillating wildly between the crippling guilt of an ungrateful child and wondering if he did this on purpose.”

Carly blinked. That hadn’t even occurred to her. “Uh, where do you stand on the second one?”

“I’m convinced it was an accident. Which means nothing. I was convinced he was my uncle for twenty years, too.”

Nikolas’s voice wasn’t bitter. Just heavy and defeated.

“For what its worth, if he did? That’s the act of a desperate man.”

“My uncle is nothing if not the model of a desperate man.”

“Father,” she corrected him. Nikolas blinked.

“What?”

“Father. You said uncle.”

He gazed at her a long moment before dropping his eyes. “Yeah. I do that sometimes.”

“Wishful thinking?”

Nikolas raised his hands to her hips and gently pushed her back from him. “I don’t wish he wasn’t my father.”

Carly felt her face heat. Damnit! She was trying so hard to be uncontroversial – it must be lovely to have the sort of brain that thought about things before it spit them out your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I… I’m bitter about fathers. Ignore me.”

He shook his head, though he didn’t look directly at her. “It’s not that.”

“Ok,” she took a tentative step back towards him. He let her touch his shoulder, gave no indication that he wanted her to back off. She stood before him, awkward and uncertain, until he finally gave her a clue.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” he said, finally. “Because it sounds crazy.”

“Great. Then I’m your girl.”

He left her hanging a long moment before cautiously beginning to speak. “When I think of him as my uncle… I feel closer to him. It’s like that was the natural state of our relationship, and this father/son thing…” he exhaled. “I’m relieved – I will always be relieved – not to be Stavros’s son. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. But my uncle – The man I grew up with – He was this dreamer, this sensitive second son who had traveled the world, and had studied philosophy and religion and art… And then his brother died, and I was left with my Grandmother, and he changed who he was to become the protector I needed. That’s who my uncle was for me. He lied to me, he manipulated me, and I couldn’t trust him… But I respected him and I valued him and I was grateful for what he’d done.”

He still wasn’t looking at her, but he reached up and ran his hand along the back of her thigh. The touch was gentle, but distant – like he was just making sure she was really there with him. Alright. He wanted her close by then. She put her arms around his neck again and leaned her legs against the edge of the chaise.

“Knowing he’s my father changes that narrative a bit, but the essentials are still true. But we aren’t like we were before I knew the truth. It added this … complication. And I don’t want to be anyone else’s son, but I miss being his nephew. And… I can’t change how fundamental he is to my life. No matter what he does, or how much havoc it wrecks, I’ll always forgive him. But that’s not the same as feeling like I count on him not to do it again. That’s the part I struggle with.”

She waited to see if he said more, practically holding her breath. Weeks had passed since things had blown up with Stefan. This was the most he’d said about his father in all that time. Finally, he looked up at her, looking absolutely lost.

“I don’t know what to do,” he told her. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do next.”

“Let Bobbie take the first shift. Get some sleep.” She realized what a ridiculous suggestion that was so she tried again. “Ok, drink some of the magic stress tea Mrs. Landsbury left in the bedroom, then get some sleep.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

He was so worried. The fact that everyone said his father was going to be fine did not seem to be lessening it for him in the slightest. She leaned forward and kissed him again and he returned the affection with what could only be described as gratitude. She didn’t feel like she deserved all this affection and appreciation for her minimal contribution, but what else was new?

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I know,” he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her off her feet and onto his lap. “But I do not want the magic stress tea.” His other hand snaked around her neck and he pulled her down towards him. Carly used his shoulders as leverage to push herself back.

“You’re kidding.”

“In my defense, you’re a very compelling distraction.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You just want to make out with me so that you don’t have to think about this anymore.”

“Generally speaking, I want to make out with you more than I want to do most things.”

It was traitorous to her cause to grin, but… Well, what the hell was she supposed to do? She was in love the boy. Occasional inconvenient flashes of giddiness appeared to be a side-effect. She granted him a quick peck on the lips, but pulled back, balancing dangerously on his lap, and asked the one question that was plaguing her. “You know he’s going to be ok, right? My mother knows what she’s talking about.”

“I know.”

“So why do you look like you’ve been sitting vigil at a death bed?”

He reached up and brushed her hair back from her face. “When it comes right down to it… I have him, and I have you,” his voice cracked – a very little. Enough to make her stomach clench. “And I don’t like to see how fragile life can be.”

She nodded, feeling tears prick her eyes. His arms tightened around her and she fell into another kiss. When she pulled back she pressed her forehead against his. “You have a lot more people than just Stefan and me.”

He nodded slightly. “They don’t know me like you do.”

She felt herself warm. She hadn’t thought of them like that before. But she did know things he hadn’t told anyone else. She knew him in ways no one else did – and she relished that closeness. Now that she wasn’t actively trying not to fall in love with him, their closeness had turned comforting and precious. “We should go to bed.”

“I was just thinking that.”

She laughed and nipped lightly at his bottom lip. “You know what I mean. And you have to drink the tea. I had to drink the tea when it was me.”

“Carly.”

She silenced him with another sweet, soul-deep kiss. She wasn’t entirely surprised when she heard him curse in … well, in not-English, and lift her into his arms as he stood up. She pulled back from him long enough to grin and wrap her legs around his waist. “God,” he muttered. “That smile.”

“Alright,” she sighed as he carried her towards the bedroom. “We’ll do it your way.”

That wasn’t precisely true. She won the battle over the magic stress tea, though she resorted to overt guilt and manipulation. He did seem to relax a bit, whatever the cause, and she let herself get lost in deep kisses and slow caresses. She was turning into a ridiculous sap. She reveled in the intimacy of being with someone who she felt so at home with, in how safe and effortless things could be with him. And God, he had come to know her body almost better than she did. Monogamy, it turned out, was extremely underrated.

The combination of the tea, the sex and the loss of the adrenaline that had pulled him through the evening had their desired effect. He slept. She felt a sense of accomplishment. And … Alright. Love. She still had room to fall, it turned out. She was a little surprised she’d been able to do it at all, but now that she’d started, there just seemed to be more and more emotion lurking inside her, ready to start washing over her at any given moment. She lay in the dark, in his arms, and listened to his breathing and felt her heart swell. She felt tender and protective and this overwhelming desire to spare him more of the pain and worry she’d seen written all over him that day. And it was ridiculous, because she was still a lunatic mute, stopping just short of embracing her adult relationship, with her husband. Her husband who adored her. God, she felt like a total headcase.

And maybe that was true. Maybe she was too crazy to have a normal relationship, maybe she was still too messed up to do what most people would do and just adopt some sort of traditional couple role. But she was still somewhat functional, and she could do one thing.

She could finish this thing with Stefan.

By 2 a.m. Carly had washed up and dressed herself in one of Nikolas’s t-shirts and her only pair of jeans. With a robe tossed over her shoulders, she strode towards Stefan’s quarters looking very much like someone who had just rolled out of his son’s bed – despite her best efforts. But she had to strike while the iron was hot, of whatever the appropriate metaphor was for this situation. She was on a mission and she was not going to be stopped by random insecurities or… giggling?

She slowed her progress and cocked an ear.

There was another, lower rumble of laughter – two voices now – and Carly felt a chill creep down her spine. What the hell?

She rushed the last few feet, and reached the doorway to find Stefan propped up in bed – where Carly had fully expected to find him sleeping – and laughing with her mother over God could only imagine what.

Her eyes flicked between the two of them, but couldn’t make anything of the scene, other than they apparently found each other entertaining. Oh, NO, her brain screamed. No enjoying each other’s company. She did not want to consider the implications.

“Hey,” she tried to breeze through the door, her robe billowing behind her, the rest of her swimming in Nikolas’s shirt. “You’re up.”

Stefan looked like he honestly could not decide on an appropriate facial expression, so his eventual “I am,” came off as uncertain. Carly pivoted on her heel.

“I’m your relief. You can go to bed.”

Bobbie looked a little startled, but rallied. “I thought you were asleep!”

She shrugged. “Nikolas is asleep. Which is somewhere on this side of a miracle, so I’m not going to wake him. I don’t have to be at the mansion until noon, I have plenty of time to sleep before and after. Come on. Don’t be a hero.”

Bobbie glanced at Stefan, then back at her daughter, and Carly watched the gears turned. She tried to send a message with her eyes – half “run for the hills, madwoman, if you are even vaguely entertaining what I think you might be” and half “I know what I’m doing, leave me alone”. She wasn’t such which one communicated, but her mother shook her head and picked up the book that had slipped to the floor.

“Alright, Carly. He should probably try to get more rest,”

“I’ve had plenty of rest,” Stefan really was turning out to be the patient from hell.

“I don’t know that he WILL get more rest, but see what you can do.”

Bobbie picked up the shoes she’d kicked off and surveyed them both. “You know, you need to get your rest tonight, too,” she pointed out. Carly nodded.

“Yes, ok. I’ll rest, he’ll rest – we’ll all rest,” she gave her mother a desperate look. Bobbie narrowed her eyes, making it clear that she was acting against her better instincts and started towards the door.

“I’ll be down the hall.”

“Great!” Carly nearly cringed at her own forced enthusiasm and dropped into the chair her mother had just vacated.

Bobbie cast her eyes back at her ex-husband and frowned. “Be nice to each other.”

“Always,” she forced a smile. “Good night!”

“Uh huh,” her mother nearly backed out of the room, before finally turning and starting down the hall. Carly waited, arms crossed, and listened to the retreating footsteps. Once they faded, she vaulted out of the chair, leaned out of the doorway and made sure that her mother was well and truly out of sight. Then she shut the door.

Stefan seemed to be sitting even straighter when she turned around, hands folded in his lap and eyes gleaming. “So. You’ve changed your mind.”

“About talking? Not really.” She stole back across the room. “About your stupid post-nuptial whatever? Yeah. Fine. Hit me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll sign it,” Carly felt her heart careen against her rib cage. It was … happy. It seemed to feel, quite strongly, that she was doing the right thing. She hoped it was right – it didn’t have a very good track record.

“You’ll… sign it.”

“Yes.”

“With your real name.”

She nodded impatiently. “Yes. God. I thought you’d be into this.”

“You’ll forgive me skepticism.”

“Not really! What could I possibly gain from signing a post-nuptial agreement? Right now, I have a firm lock on half of your son’s millions. I assume that isn’t what you put into that document.”

“The terms were generous.”

“I don’t need generous terms. If I leave him, I leave everything – you can have them put that in writing. I walk away with nothing. His wealth and power remains intact. You’re not going to get a better deal than that.”

“And why would you do this?”

Her mouth tightened. “I think you can work that one out for yourself.”

“You weren’t willing to speak to me earlier.”

“You fell off a horse. Maybe I consider my karmic debt repaid.” He didn’t like that, and she tried not to smile. She failed. “You wanted a gesture of good faith.”

“Yes, and you refused.”

“Because I was pissed at you. I still am, for what it’s worth. I might always be pissed at you. But how I feel about you isn’t really that important. You’re not my father.

There was a long silence, and then Stefan nodded. “Has he told you his concern –”

“Yep,” she nearly spit the word at him. “He can’t trust you with me. But that only really matters if I have some kind of expectation from you. And I don’t. I don’t need you to approve. I don’t need some kind of idyllic relationship with you. I don’t even care if you like me or not.” She slouched back in her chair. “Here’s something that might surprise you. When Nikolas asked me to marry him, I told him he was crazy. I knew he was crazy – I knew it was a bad idea and it was probably going to end badly for him. I actually thought, when I was about to put that ring on his finger, that he stood to lose a lot from this deal. I know I had nothing to lose by saying yes. I know my life is better in ways that it could never be without him. I’m very clear about that.” She pulled in a breath. “I married him because it was what he wanted, and because it made a lot of sense to me. But it was never about the money. It will never BE about the money. And I will not leave him. I won’t. So your post-nup is meaningless. Except for one thing.” She took a deep breath. “It’ll give you that little shred of security you were apparently looking for that afternoon. And that might make you ever so slightly less unhinged. Which means you can stop trying to break us up and possibly go back to having a real relationship with your son. Who loves you. Even if you are a jackass.”

“And why would you care if I repair my relationship with Nikolas?”

She shot him a withering look. “Guess.”

She expected him to take her to mean that she gave a damn about Nikolas’s happiness, but the shrewd expression in his eyes was unsettling. “What about Mr. Morgan?”

What about? She really wished she knew the answer to that question. She opted to shake her head, firmly. “He’s not my priority. Nikolas is.”

“So you don’t deny –”

“Do you want me to lie to you?” She snapped. “I’m not a sociopath, contrary to popular opinion. My feelings are messy and you probably won’t like them – but they aren’t temporary.”

“Does Nikolas know you’ve decided to do this?”

Carly sighed heavily. “Nikolas doesn’t want me to sign a post-nuptial agreement, because he thinks it is like admitting that divorce is an option. And it’s not. He doesn’t want me to plan for us to get divorced, either. I can’t imagine he’s in love with YOU planning for it, either.”

“So this would be something we would keep between us.”

Yeah. That was the problem with this grand gesture. The part where it would be a secret that would drive Nikolas crazy if he ever found out about it. “You think that would be a good idea?”

The corner of her father-in-law’s mouth twitched. He looked like the words he was about to speak might very well cause him physical pain. “No. I do not.”

“Yeah, neither do I.” She scowled down at the floor. “But we have to do something.”

“A secret of that magnitude would be mutually assured destruction,” Stefan finally leaned back against his headboard. “If Nikolas were to ever find out.”

“He’ll find out,” Carly muttered. She jerked her head up and glared at him again. “You really screwed this up, you know that.”

“Whereas running off to Luke Spencer was an idea without disadvantage.”

“I’m supposed to be unpredictable and reactionary. That’s my forte. How you didn’t see something like that coming, I have no idea.”

That at least earned a thin smile. “The problem,” he allowed, “is not the post-nuptial agreement nor the annulment. Though I admit, he was unhappy with me on both counts.”

“Yeah, he can be like that where our marriage is concerned.”

“He feels that my actions have hurt you.”

Carly returned to gazing at the carpet. Well, he could be aware of the obvious like that. “For future reference – and I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here – it’s pretty evil to toy with a person’s emotional scars for personal gain.”

“About on par with tricking an alcoholic into thinking he’d fallen off the wagon so that he wouldn’t discover he was the father of your unborn child.”

“Touche,” she pushed her hair out of her face and leaned back in her chair, eyes now tipped up to the ceiling. “We’re kind of a toxic combination. You have to be in control. So do I.”

“You’ll excuse me if I note that our technique differs.”

“It’s adorable that you think I’d find that insulting,” Carly muttered. “Though… In a way, I guess I have to thank you for being so crazy. Because when I told Nikolas every single rotten thing I’ve ever done… I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t seem to care. But I guess you trained him to do that. You can do anything to him, and he will not stop loving you. He will find a way to forgive it.” She glanced over at him. “You know that, right?”

Stefan nodded.

“Well, now he’s hooked up with me. And I could do the same thing to him, probably. I could torture him for years and he will keep coming back to me because he loves me.” She felt her stomach turn over. “I guess I can understand how that would drive you crazy.”

“It would appear our hands are tied.”

Carly shrugged. “I wasn’t bluffing about the post-nup.”

“It would appear not. But the plan is flawed.”

“Most of my plans are.”

“This is where we differ. Most of my plans have a certain grace,” his lips thinned again. “Though not of late.”

She rubbed her temples and felt the weight of fatigue hit her. “He can’t keep this up, it’s killing him.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

“Well, it’s not for you,” she snapped.

“And that,” he murmured “would be my point.”

Carly sat up again and gave Stefan a long, appraising look. There really wasn’t a solution here. He’d done what he’d done, she’d done what she’s done, Nikolas had gotten stuck in the middle – and sided with her, ultimately. Which was why she could afford to be the gracious one. Which, she guessed, she should be. From a distance.

“We could call it a draw and just pretend it didn’t happen,” she ventured. “Except for the part where I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Nikolas will no doubt prefer it that way.”

That was a good point. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll be magnanimous, and I hope you take note of it, because it probably won’t happen again.” She took a deep breath. “Nikolas is going to wake up – and he will come looking for me.” She could not believe she was about to say this. Her heart had now dropped into her stomach. It didn’t like THIS at all. “And he’ll probably want to talk to you.” She raised an accusing finger and pointed directly at his chest. “If I let you tell him what happened here tonight – this conversation? You owe me. You owe me at LEAST the decency of staying the hell out of my marriage until Nikolas actually HAS a knife pointed to his throat.”

“Or has taken two in the chest,” Stefan’s dark tone indicated just how little he was joking. Carly bristled, but managed not to take the bait.

“I’ll let you be the one to get all open and honest with him. You do that, maybe he’ll let you get your foot back in the door. Don’t tell me that’s not as valuable to you as any paper I could sign.”

Stefan considered the offer, though she was certain he knew damn well he was going to take her up on it.

“Your concern for his well-being is encouraging,” he allowed, finally. “I do hope it stays that way.”

Nikolas woke up to the deeply unsettling experience of not being able to immediately account for his whereabouts or understand what was happening. For one terrifying moment, he thought he might actually have returned to his pre-Carly lifestyle, and had a half-second of blinding panic before spotting her shoes by the bedroom door.

Oh, good. She was just missing, then.

His head felt thick and hopelessly sluggish as he pulled himself out of the bed. He was exhausted. It very nearly hurt to be awake, and every part of his body just wanted to fall back into the bed.

His mind, however, had other ideas. The clock registered nearly 3:00. Only a few hours sleep, but Carly had apparently stolen out of their bed and he had more than a sneaking suspicion of where she would have gone. Damnit – one moment of ill-timed vulnerability, and he’d set everything up for another family meltdown. He dressed quickly and left his rooms in search of his wife.

He could hear her voice as soon as he reached the wing that included his father’s chambers. She was speaking quickly – animatedly, even – but she did not sound terribly happy. He picked up his pace and moved silently and quickly to the open door.

Carly was sitting cross-legged at the foot of his father’s bed. Her elbows were resting on her knees, chin propped on her folded hands. She was gazing down at a chess board with a deep frown etched on her features.

“This game blows,” she reported to his irritated father.

“If you would take a moment to consider—” Stefan was speaking to her tersely, clearly unimpressed, when he caught sight of Nikolas and dropped the line of reasoning. Carly twisted around and her face broke into a grin at the sight of him. His heart, much to his irritation, skipped a beat of two. He really did love to see her smile.

“Hi,” his tone was a little pointed as he stepped into the room. “I thought I was supposed to be coming on after Bobbie.”

“You were asleep,” Carly pointed out, as she untangled herself from her position and moved up onto her knees. She put our her hand to him and complained “Your father is trying to teach me chess. Make it stop.”

He hated himself for smiling at that, but … The hyper-activity, the nervous gestures – all those things Carly did when she was up to something… they weren’t there. She was just sitting there, with his father, not even having a particularly good time. This made no sense whatsoever.

“I can take over – ” he glanced down at the chess board and blanched. “You’re not teaching her very well,” he accused. His father sniffed.

“I am doing my best, but your bride is contrary.”

Carly seemed to appreciate that description, and turned to take Nikolas's hands. “In all seriousness, I do not want to play this game again, ever. If this is like the Cassadine version of pool, we have a problem.”

“I don’t really like chess,” Nikolas assured her. She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss – and it wasn’t like the kisses she’d given him in front of this father before. The ones that were clearly making some sort of point – it was just light and friendly and an indication that she was about to leave the two of them alone.

“I need to get some sleep before I deal with Quartermainia tomorrow,” she hopped off the bed. “You’re it.”

“Alright,” he brushed his hand along her arm as she walked past him, and she shot him another smile.

“Please beat him. It will make me feel better,” she nodded over to Stefan. “And by all means, you continue to ignore all medical directives. I’ll enjoy it tomorrow when you still have a splitting headache.”

And with that she was gone. Nikolas watched the space by the door, and then turned back to his father.

“Alright. What?”

Stefan shrugged. “She is truly atrocious at strategy.”

Nikolas glanced down at the board again and moved a rook across the board. “Check.”

Stefan offed the rook with a bishop. “Checkmate.” He began to reset the board. “It is good to see you Nikolas, no matter the circumstances.”

Nikolas followed the lead of his predecessors and dropped into the chair at his father’s bedside. “Tell me what happened.”

Stefan paused a moment, then lightly plucked up Carly’s queen. “Gladly.”