Chapter Nine:
History Lesson

The first thing noticeable about the room, from the moment Carly lay her hand on the doorknob on the other side of the door, was that it was cold. Even though it was mid-June, the air conditioning, apparently only recognizing the settings "on" and "off", was blasting, bringing the room to a temperature that inspired images of walk-in meat freezers. The air was dry and artificial, and Carly coughed when she breathed too much of it into her lungs. She dropped her purse and the room key onto a chair and wrapped her arms around herself, crossing the room as Nikolas pulled the door shut behind them.

"Charming," she muttered, reaching the single window on the opposite wall. She glanced out of it, noting that it overlooked absolutely nothing. It was an anti-view.

"We can go somewhere else..." Nikolas's voice seemed empty as he looked around the room. It was bare, the definition of simplicity. The bed was in the center of the room, across an expanse of a speckled brillopad industrial carpeting. The bed itself was a standard double. The spread was deep beige, and had no pattern. The whole room was only remarkable in it's lack of character. It was so bland it almost wasn't there. This was the definition of inhospitable. And it was yet another place where Carly seemed more at ease than he did. More at ease, though thoroughly nonplused.

Nikolas glanced across at Carly, feeling like her mood had cooled with the room. This was a mistake. This location -- any artificial and temporary location like this... It felt wrong. It seemed to give off a implication that he didn't support, didn't like the look of. This sort of thing, Nikolas decided, was not in his nature. It was not the way he liked to conduct himself. Perhaps it was the product of growing up in a house draped in secrecy, but he didn't like to keep secrets. For as long as he could remember he'd informed Stefan of his less appropriate actions almost immediately upon performing them. He was defiant in the cases in which he suspected his uncle would disapprove, and apologetic in matters he was certain would cause problems... But he was essentially forthright with his family, and for a Cassadine, that was all that mattered.

Matters of the heart, however, were another matter entirely. They were expected to be played close to the vest. You didn't announce these things. They were handled discretely and behind closed doors. That, more than anything else, was the reason he hadn't wanted to be anywhere with Carly that would involve anyone he'd ever seen before. He didn't want to think about it. His attention was on her and her alone, and he wanted it to stay that way.

Carly stood rigid at the window, her stomach having contracted like a fist that wouldn't release. She felt incredibly and indescribably alone, with him standing just a few feet away, yet not making the slightest move towards her. It made everything feel sharper. She could feel everything coming up to the surface the longer she stood there. Why couldn't he just do something? Why was he frozen to the spot like this? She didn't have the slightest clue how to sway him, how to ask him to hold her. But she wanted it. In the coldness, the sterile feeling the room was emanating, she wanted more than anything to feel warm.

Nikolas stared at her, wondering, as always, just how he'd gotten here. It didn't make sense. No mood seemed to stick to this girl for more than a moment. He'd feel like he'd finally touched her and then the next moment, she'd be cold and distant, making him feel like he must be borderline delusional.

Still. She was here. It had even been her idea. He wasn't imagining that.

Why did this always happen? How was it that she could so simply reduce him to complete paralysis? He was Nikolas Cassadine, for God's sake.

Nikolas flinched involuntarily at the thought. That used to mean something else to him. It had carried a certain sense of infallibility. It didn't hold that anymore, it's power had crumbled for him. There was a stigma to it now, he felt that acutely. He felt an old anger, one he tried to stifle most of the time, stir in him, and his face hardened. He hated being affected by that. He hated the fact that his identity had been pulled out from under him. And what did it matter here, anyway? He could be anyone, here. This wasn't a place anyone ever expected to find a Cassadine. He wasn't sure the name even mattered to Carly. In fact... She was a Spencer. If his name mattered to her, in any real way, she wouldn't even be here.

Summoning the confidence and self-assurance he was so used to presenting to the world, Nikolas started towards her. He stopped right behind her, and listened, watched, waiting. Carly seemed to stiffen at his proximity. From his position he couldn't see the hand that had been resting on her stomach tighten into a fist. Carly closes her eyes, feeling her heart begin to beat faster. Do something, she silently pleaded. She couldn't ask for it, not now. Just once she didn't want to have to wear her nails to the quick in the act of begging for affection.

Nikolas breathed in the smell of her. Still like the bar, her hair saturated with cigarette smoke. Nothing like it had been the other night. He lifted his hand to lay it lightly on her shoulder, then slowly trailing his fingertips down her arm... It was the same gesture he had made outside her door the first night they slept together, and Carly felt herself nearly buckle with relief.

"Caroline."

Carly turned away from the window, slowly, to look at him. Her jaw was still tight, her lips pressed together. Her breathing, however, was rapid and uneven, giving her away. She felt like she was crumbling inside, like she'd been waiting for a some place to fall apart and now, whether this was the place or occasion, her emotions were beginning to swirl around inside her. She felt her eyes well up for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon. She laughed, trying to cover.

"Are you going to keep calling me that?"

"Do you want me to?" The corners of Nikolas's lips turned up in a very slight smile as he looked into her eyes. She wasn't that skilled. This mask, this wall she kept trying to put in front of him... It wasn't unscalable. And the way she was looking at him... Suddenly she didn't seem so self-contained. He bent his head closer to hers, and Carly felt her heart begin to race. He traced his fingers along her forearm and Carly tightened her hand, her nails digging into her palm. His eyes were locked on hers and she was beginning to feel exposed, like he was looking right through her. She wanted to grab onto something desperately, to find something to make this safe, protect her. She opened her mouth, attempting to answer his question, but he cut her off with a kiss, warm and tender, on her parted lips.

Carly closed her eyes immediately, and wound her arms around his neck. He was kissing her so softly, his lips brushing against hers lightly, not allowing himself to really sink into the embrace with her. Carly found herself smiling, emulating him at first, then dragging her tongue, teasingly along his lower lip. Nikolas slid his hand around the back of her neck, running his knuckles from the nape of her neck down to her collarbone. Carly tipped her head back in response and Nikolas finally closed in, kissing her sensuously, moving his hands down her back to grip her waist.

It was impossible for him to comprehend, when she was in his arms like this, that she was ever anything else besides soft and delicate. There wasn't a hint of her prickly and protective nature, the way she seemed to fight against him constantly. Instead she seemed open and genuine, safe. His brain told him it was a dangerous place, a hazardous thought to allow himself, but he was having a hard time caring. The kiss came to a natural end and Nikolas pulled back.

"God, it's cold," Nikolas breathed. Carly laughed, a short burst. She pressed her forehead against his.

"These are the kinds of problems I know how to solve."

Carly slid her arms slowly down from his neck and took his hands in hers, removing them from her waist. Nikolas smiled at her, slightly confused, but trusting, and she lead him towards the bathroom, dropping his hands to open the door.

The bathroom was not particularly spacious, in fact it matched the room perfectly in that it did not draw attention to itself in any way. It contained the bare essentials -- sink without accompanying counter, toilet, and shower. The shower was enclosed in a small box, with a lip at the bottom to herd spilling water back to he drain in the center and a skimpy, mostly decorative, curtain.

"Close the door," Carly instructed, moving towards the shower. Nikolas shrugged, pulling the door shut behind them.

Carly studied the control, a large, single knob, mounted on the tile, and twisted it to the far right, pulling it out from the wall, so that the shower head sputtered, then began to spill out quickly heating water, causing Carly to jump back quickly, her shirt splattered. She turned back to Nikolas, shaking drops of water out of her hair.

"There. Heat," she grinned. Nikolas leaned back against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Brilliant."

In the enclosed space, the steam rose quickly, spilling out over the top of the curtain and seeping out from the sides, filling the room in the amount of time it took for Carly to make her way across the tiny room, back to Nikolas. She slid her arms around his waist, leaning against him.

"Better?" Carly asked, kicking off her sandals, and sending them skittering across the floor. Nikolas leaned down and kisses her deeply.

"Much."

The steam soon clouded the mirror over the sink and made the tiled floor slick. Carly and Nikolas fell into a rhythm, slow and soft liquid kisses, gently running their hands over each other, adjusting to the environment, of how close and intimate it was, to be alone with nothing but the sound of the water pelting against the tile.

Carly pulled back first, crossing her arms and grabbing the hem of her t-shirt to pull it, recklessly, over her head. She tossed it aside, paying no attention to where it chose to land. Nikolas grinned at her and she slid back into his arms, kissing him deeply, while his hands located and fumbled with the clasp on her bra.

They undressed each other, letting articles of clothing drop to the floor without concern, enjoying exploring each new part of each other as it was revealed. The steam surrounding them made everything feel other worldly, like they were somewhere up in clouds, hovering away from everyone and everything. Carly felt infected by the way Nikolas was kissing her, how gentle and teasing it was, like he was honestly enjoying it, being with her, discovering her. There was a sense of playfulness in the way he touched her, and it was disarming her completely.

Carly grabbed Nikolas's hands again, smiling at him her eyes bright and spirited, and started to pull him towards the shower. She reached in blindly and wrenched the knob back to the left, diminishing the heat blasted from the cell. She wrapped her arms around Nikolas again, sliding them into his damp hair, and closed in to continue kissing him, revealing in how familiar it was becoming, the taste of him, the fullness of his lips against hers. She didn't want it to end, she realized. She could stay here forever, in this exact moment, her heart beating, constantly battling to keep a goofy grin from spreading across her face. She was dangerously close to feeling happy.

Nikolas lifted Carly over the lip of the shower, without bothering to pull the curtain aside and the stumbled, falling against the opposite wall. The water pressure was so extreme it was almost assault-like and Carly let out a shriek, laughing as the tried, without moving away from each other, to untangle themselves from the curtain. They managed somehow, and Carly pulled the curtain shut firmly, then pressed Nikolas against the wall.

"I guess this is something you haven't tried either," she taunted, breathless. Nikolas smoothed her hair, already saturated with water, away from her face and lowered his head to catch the rivers of water spilling along her face and down her neck.

"I'm a quick study."

Carly arched her head back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I think," she mused, "we could have a lot of fun together."

Laura Spencer started at the sound of the front door slamming. She cringed, then leaned back over her books, continuing with her notes.

"Darlin'?"

"I'm in the kitchen," Laura called, not looking up. Why was it every time she sat down to do some actual work something interrupted her? The door to the kitchen swung open and Luke entered, making a beeline to the fridge.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked, with only the vaguest interest.

"I'm..." she stopped, realizing that her own interest wasn't that great. She pushed the books away. "Never mind. My head is pounding," she told him, setting her elbows on the table and rubbing her temples. "How was lunch with Bobbie?"

"That girl..." he growled, pulling a bottle of beer out from behind the milk, "Is on a set course for self destruction, and she's going to pull Barbara right down with her."

Laura sat back in her chair, stretching her neck. "What did she do now?"

"She turned down the job, for starters."

"Well, you knew she was going to do that."

Luke kicked the fridge door closed, opening the beer in a fluid gesture. "Yeah, called that one. Then she started in on that damn trial again."

Laura sighed heavily. "Luke..."

"The girl will NOT except help. From anyone. Then when things fall apart on her, she starts pointing fingers anywhere she can."

Laura stared at the table top. She never had an answer to this. She didn't know Carly nearly well enough to start making appraisals to her mental health -- though it did seem shaky -- and their was simply no comforting Luke on the subject of the trial. There never would be. The fact that the Quartermaines had called victory over the Spencers was something she was sure would always stick in his craw.

"It is very difficult to lose a child," she said quietly, allowing the slightest edge to creep into her voice. Luke chose to ignore the implication, and spun a chair around sitting down, back to front. She glanced up at him and gave him a tired smile. "She just... She just can't let go of it."

"She didn't LOSE him. She -- " he shook his head, with mounting anger, and took a swig of the beer before slamming it down on the table. "She should have trusted us."

"She didn't. It's that simple."

Luke glared at the opposite wall. "Family is family. Did she think I wanted a rabid pack of Quartermaines raising my great-nephew? She should have trusted us."

Laura closed her eyes, her mind wandering back to the trial. She'd been.... Preoccupied at the time, what with the mess her family had fallen into. Lucky had still been living hand to mouth, anywhere that wasn't near family, Nikolas had been in the wringer over the revelation of his paternity, and she and Luke... Well, that had been strained, at best. Carly's trial over Michael had not been first on her list on priorities -- Luke's either. Back ground noise, it had felt like at first. After all, Carly always had Jason in her corner. Then, inexplicably, that had fallen through. And suddenly Bobbie had appeared as Carly's only champion. That was where Luke had come in.

To say Carly had been hostile to Luke's involvement was to put it mildly. In fact, you could even go as far as to say she'd actively sabotaged it. She hadn't trusted him. She refused to believe that he wasn't out to get her. It had been some of the most irrational logic she'd ever heard in her life, and that was saying a lot. But Laura had seen beneath it. Really, in the end, the poor girl had just been frightened out of her mind. All that mattered was hanging onto her son, and Laura had to respect that. She'd felt remorseful that she hadn't fought with equal ardour to keep Nikolas.

The fact of the matter was, if Carly had let herself trust Luke, the outcome might have been different. But she rejected every overture she made, and refused to listen to his warnings. And the Quartermaines kept playing trick after trick, each more vicious than the last, until Carly appeared hysterical and unbalanced at the trial. That was compounded by the state appointed psychiatrist the judge had ordered her to see. Once he diagnosed her as bipolar, everything fell apart. Luke had been certain that it was a set up -- though he was the first person to admit Carly was an extreme personality, there was no way he was naming any Spencer "crazy" or even chemically unbalanced. It was unacceptable.

The diagnosis was eventually overturned, but Carly was still ruled unfit, mostly on the strength of her erratic behavior in the courtroom. Add in a stay in a psychiatric institution for shooting her ex-lover, and it became surprising -- a triumph, even -- that she had been granted visiting rights at all. Laura looked back at Luke, sadly.

"You did everything you could," she soothed. Luke's jaw tightened. Therein lay the problem. Everything he could, and it still wasn't good enough. They knew the psychiatrist and judge had most likely been paid off, but that didn't matter to Luke. Though he never used words like hero to describe himself, Laura knew, with absolute certainty, that he considered it his job to rescue the people in his life. To protect them. And he'd failed with Carly -- which meant he'd failed Bobbie. She slid her chair over, closer to him, and put her arm around his shoulders, leaning her forehead against the rough stubble on his cheek.

"Some people just don't want to be saved."

"I want to see you see you again."

Carly lay on the bed with her head nestled just under Nikolas's rib cage, letting herself be lulled by the gentle rising and falling of his diaphragm. His hand was gently combing through her still-wet hair, his concentration on this action so that he would not have to think too much about what he just said. Carly didn't stir, digesting the words she'd begun to suspect where coming. She brought her hand up from around his waist and lay them on top of one another on the base of his sternum, rested her chin on the back of them.

"I guess that's kinda inevitable," she said, heavily. She didn't want to think too much about what that meant.

"Just you. Alone."

Carly smiled, and pressed her lips against her knuckles. "I assumed."

Nikolas continued running his fingers through her hair, examining the way it darkened when wet, making the separate strips appear to be different colors. It still felt a little warm, even in the chill of the room -- the temperature of which no longer felt so sharp, most probably because they had both adjusted to it, finding it was not so bad, once you got in.

"We could have dinner," Nikolas murmured. Carly started. She looked up at him, instinctively checking to see if he was kidding. He must be kidding. Either that, or he was out of his mind. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why?"

Nikolas strained to look down at her. "Because I want to know about you."

"Well," Carly said heavily, rolling away from him "You can know about me right now, if you want."

Nikolas, sensing this was somehow a "Danger" area, rolled over onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Alright. Then tell me about yourself," he challenged.

Carly rolled her eyes. "What do you want to know? I'm twenty-six, I'm from Florida, and my life is going nowhere REAL fast -- you?"

Nikolas stared at a strip of hair that had stuck to her cheek, the end just reaching the corner of her mouth.

"Twenty-one and Greek.... But otherwise, the same."

Carly laughed, deep in her throat. "Your life is going to an entirely different nowhere than mine is, believe me."

"How do you figure that?"

Carly looked up at Nikolas, to see if he was serious. He looked back at her, his expression brooding, his dark eyes appearing to be endless as he stared down at her. She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Is this a game?"

"Sure. Why should it be any different than the rest of our conversations?"

Carly laughed, and rolled over on her side to face him, imitating his posture. "The boy has bite," she teased, wrinkling her nose. "You know, I wouldn't have guessed that at first sight."

"There are lots of things about you I wouldn't have guessed at first sight either. I'm glad I kept looking".

Carly's face clouded, and she looked away. "You don't know me, Nikolas. Not really."

"Would it surprise you if I said I wanted to?"

Carly studied the top sheet. "I'd want to know why."

Nikolas sighed heavily and rolled onto his back. "Alright, I can answer that." He laced his fingers together and tucked his hands under his head. "I've had what they call a "sheltered" life. You probably already guessed that."

"Yeah," Carly smiled wryly. "There was the occasional clue -- here and there."

Nikolas glanced over at her. "Do you want to hear this?"

Carly cocked her head to one side and twisted her mouth, in an expression of deep thought. "Yeah," she said finally. "Let me have it."

Nikolas gave her a look that let her know, in no uncertain terms, that he knew she was playing with him.

"I was saying," he started again, "That I had a very sheltered -- by that I mean controlled -- life. They -- my family -- they already knew what I was when I was born. What I was going to be. So from the moment I came into being they started to ... Groom me, for lack of a better word. To be "The Cassadine". The Prince. The last Prince." Nikolas turned his eyes to the ceiling, staring at it in deep contemplation. Carly watched him, not wanting, for once, to interrupt him. Finally, he drew a deep breath into his lungs. "My grandmother had one idea -- my father had another. Since my father was masquerading as my UNCLE back then, he had to fight to make sure his way prevailed. And it did. So I was raised the way he wanted, to believe in the same things, the same ideals, he did. And I studied Latin, and fencing and business... All the things I should know to lead the family the way he felt it should be led."

Nikolas stopped and pressed his lips together. His voice had remained so steady while she spoke, that it had almost been a monotone. Like a speech he's recited many times to many people -- the most important audience being himself. Carly reached out, hesitantly, and brought her hand to his cheek. Nikolas blinked, tears she hadn't even seen pooling escaping his eyes and moving quickly down his face. He turned and looked for her.

"They told me," he said, stoically, "My whole life, they told me who I was. And it was a lie. So now... Everything I was I'm not. And I'm realizing that there is a lot of stuff out there that I never looked at, since it wasn't who I was. Well. Now it's time to take a closer look at it."

Carly felt her heart drop suddenly and without warning into her stomach. She looked away from him quickly, pulling her hand back. She felt sick, panicked, a sudden need to be anywhere but here. She sat up, pulling away, but Nikolas caught her arm.

"Don't," his tone was short, emotionless. She froze, then turned back to him slowly. He was leaning back on one elbow, his other hand gripping her. She gazed at him a long moment before he spoke, his voice slow and methodical. "Please, don't."

Carly shook her head hard, pulling her hand out of his grasp, and wrapping both around her stomach. She leaned forward, letting out a long and ragged breath, but made no further move to leave.

"I was in the eight grade before I found out that Virginia Benson wasn't really my mother." She feels her mouth twist, of it's own accord, into a familiar bitter smile. "I never even.... I never imagined. She had a picture, cut out of a newspaper of me as a baby, and she used to show it to me all the time -- tell me how important I was. It was all a lie," she turned her head to look back at him, over her shoulder. "Can you imagine? Going that far just so that a kid doesn't know that they're adopted? Do you know how dirty that made me feel? I thought.... God, I thought "adopted" must have been the worst thing in the world to be. If it had to be covered up like that, to be hidden from everyone, then it must be the worst thing in the world."

Nikolas looked at Carly in silent understanding, saying nothing. She smiled slightly. "I guess she was just scared. But that wasn't what it felt like. And after I found out, she didn't want to talk about it. So we never did. Never."

Carly brought her knees up, under the covers, to her chest, and she rested her chin against them, frowning. Here she was, again, talking about something she NEVER spoke about. She felt the bed jiggle, and then Nikolas's hand flat on her back, sliding up and down her spine in a soothing gesture. She started to lean back and his arm moved around her shoulder, clasping her upper arm and pulling her back onto the bed with him, lying against his chest. She closed her eyes, bringing her hand up to close around his wrist, letting herself lie cradled in his arms.

"We have too much in common, Nikolas," she whispered, turning her face against his chest.

"Who would have imagined," he responded, his voice less steady. They lay in silence, wrapped in each other, until Carly shifted, rolling herself over so that her head was nestled against his shoulder, her arms circling his rib cage. She felt his arms tighten around her.

"I'll see you again," she murmured softly. Nikolas realized, at her words, that he hadn't thought that she wouldn't. He was slightly disturbed to think that she'd just made up her mind to do so.

"Alright."

Carly slid one hand up to caress his shoulder. "But... This could get really --"

"We don't have to let anyone know."

Carly nodded, her eyes still closed. She didn't want anyone to know, she was realizing. She wanted this to belong to her. The idea of anyone else, particularly her family, getting involved in this, was unthinkable.

"Do you know anything about sailing?"

Carly laughed softly. "I repeat -- I'm from Florida." She raised her head and looked at him. "Why?"

Nikolas brought a hand up to gently caress her face, studying it as if it was the most incompressible thing he'd ever come across, making this words sound secondary and unimportant. "I bought a sailboat..." he let his voice trail off a long moment, looking at her in a way that made it difficult for Carly to really listen to what he was saying.

"Oh?" she cringed inwardly at the high and distracted tone of her voice.

"We could take it out for a maiden voyage - no one could bother us," he smiled crookedly. "No air conditioning, either."

"Sounds..." Carly exhaled heavily. "Perfect."

Nikolas leaned in and kissed her softly. He pulled back, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Then it's a date."