Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six:
Tainted Love

Luke's Club.

Luke drowns the contents of his glass, then slams it down on the desk, takes the bottle and refills it. He raises the glass to his lips, pausing only briefly before downing the contents again.

Luke: You wanna run that one by me again, Caroline.

Carly: Somehow, I think you heard me.

Luke: (putting the glass down) You're telling me Vlad Jr. had sunk his teeth into the woman his Grandmother sent to spy on us?

Carly: (uncertain) I guess so.

Luke: You GUESS? (Carly's voice slides up an octave, defensive)

Carly: Well, no one ever sat me down and explained it, I just sort of put the pieces together as I went along!

Luke: (darkly) Went along where? (Carly stares at him a moment, then sits back in her chair, crossing her arms)

Carly: Figure of speech. (Luke looks at her pointedly. Carly rolls her eyes) Ok, ok. Look… The day that women died, I sort of helped Lucky out.

Luke: You did.

Carly: Well, who else was there? (Luke's face darkens) I'm sorry, I'm… Look, I'm still trying to figure this out. I mean, you're telling me he hates you, but… (She stops and shakes her head) I don't get this.

Luke: No one's ASKING you to get it!

Carly: No, but you want me to just spill my guts to you about everything… and I don't even know what might be important because I have NO idea what you think is going on.

Luke: I'll tell you what's important… anything you heard my son say, do, or think about Nikolas Cassadine… that's important.

Carly: I can't do that.

Luke: What are you telling me, girl.

Carly: I told Lucky I wouldn't… I said I'd keep my mouth shut.

Luke: Well, it's a little late for that now!

Carly: Not about this! About… Other stuff.

Luke: What other stuff?

Carly: Luke, just… Leave me alone, ok? (Carly starts to get up, and Luke reaches out with lightening speed, grabbing her wrist).

Luke: You're not going anywhere.

Carly: (Looking at her wrist pointedly) This is attractive. Really. What are you going to do? Threaten to kill me again?

Luke: Whatever it takes.

Carly: (pulling free) How exactly do you do that? I mean, how do you justify twisting every situation until you get it to work for you? (Luke laughs)

Luke: Some one here has a selective memory. And it sure as hell ain't me. I take responsibilities for what I do, Caroline. I don't blame them on the actions of a sixteen-year-old girl that didn't have any options!

Carly: Oh, it's that simple, huh? (Luke leans back in his chair)

Luke: You wanna debate bad childhoods with me? Take a seat.

Carly: I don't think I want to do much of anything with you!

Luke: (standing up and meeting her eyes intently) This isn't a game. I got police sitting in an unmarked car out in front of my club, watching every move my family makes, best they can, 'cause they suddenly have a yen to take down my son for doing nothing more, best I can figure, than protecting his girlfriend from a psychopath he only has to deal with thanks to ME. That has to change. I want Lucky back here. I can help him better than anyone on this planet can.

Carly: You really think that's true?

Luke: I know it is.

Carly: (smirking) Well, it must just be eating you up to know where he was turning for help the last few days he was in town. Me… Nikolas… And I'm guessing Jason isn't on your favorite people list right now either. (Luke straightens up, looking at Carly as if she has two heads)

Luke: My son didn't go to Nikolas for help.

Carly: (smiling, a little tauntingly) Oh no? Well, if you say so.

Luke: What the hell are you getting at?

Carly: Why should I tell you?

Luke: (angrily) We've been down this road, woman! Now talk!

Carly: You didn't say please. (Luke brings his fist down on the top of the desk with startling ferocity)

Luke: DON'T PLAY GAMES WITH ME! You don't know the first thing about how dangerous the Cassadines can be. Trust me on that one. We're talking about a family who tried to freeze the world here. You can't really afford to be complacent where they're concerned. I've cut them too much slack as it is! Every time I blink they're plotting some other scheme to destroy the few things I got in this world. They go after my wife, my sister, my son… (He stops and takes a deep breath) You get between me and my helping my son, and every single altercation we had before, Carly… I promise you. That was a walk on the beach compared to what I'd put you through now.

Carly: You talk to your sister about this? (Luke holds his arms out, and sits back down in a fluid motion, giving Carly one of his creepier smiles)

Luke: This is between you and me.

Carly: I love the way your mind works around these little moral issues. It's so… Convenient.

Luke: You could say it's a family trait. Now… You got something to tell me?

Carly: (sitting down) Look. All I know is… Lucky and Nikolas were having some sort of problems with each other, but… The day they got Emily out of the hospital and everything…

Luke: They? (Carly nods slowly)

Carly: That was where Emily stayed while everything else was going on. At Nikolas' apartment. (Luke just stares at her, digesting this) And then… Well, I saw Lucky at the hospital with Nikolas and I told him I'd go back to the place and make sure Emily wasn't alone.

Luke: Last time you saw him.

Carly: What?

Luke: Last time you saw him… where was that?

Carly: Nikolas'.

Luke: And?

Carly: And… He and Emily were leaving. Nikolas was being… Well, he was kinda in shock or something, over that woman dying. And Lulu was getting ready for bed.

Luke: (quietly) Lulu.

Carly: Yeah.

Luke: He lied to me.

Carly: What?

Luke: That spawn-child's been lying to me. (He stands up) We're not through here. (Luke grabs his coat and heads out the door. Carly stands up and starts to follow him)

Carly: Hey! I hope you don't think I'm just going to wait around… (The back door slams behind him. Carly flinches. She shivers slightly, then picks up her own purse and coat) Ok, what have I gotten myself into this time?

The Russian Tea Room.

Lucky watches Emily carefully as she eats with infuriating precision. Lucky wonders idly how anyone paying THAT much attention to their food could possibly be eating it this slowly. It's clear she's focusing on the meal to avoid him, but it's not in a way he's used to. She's been incredibly quiet. Not in that she hasn't talked, but in that everything she did say was at a low volume. Lucky tries to distract himself from watching her, concentrating on the dozens of other things there are to look at. Paintings, chandeliers, samovars… It feels overdone to him. What any place needs with this much decor, he's not sure. For some reason it gives the place a sinister feeling to him. It's like they're trying to cover something up. Of course he could just be paranoid. It wouldn't be the first time.

Emily stirs her fork idly in the vivid remains of the butter from her chicken Kiev that rings the border of the plate. She feels like ever bone in her body is so brittle they could simultaneously break with a properly placed push. She glances up at Lucky, who is looking, critically, at something or other on the other side of the room. She's been hoping that maybe, given enough time, he might actually choose to say something without her having to start dragging it out of him. She is sick to death of that. It takes too much energy, and energy isn't something she feels she has to give right now. She drops her fork with a clatter, bringing Lucky's attention back to her.

Em: (an announcement) I have a question. (The tone of Emily's voice immediately puts Lucky on guard. In a way, he's been waiting for this, but given the variance of reactions he's received lately, he was really hoping *this* wasn't the one he was going to get this time.)

Lucky: She speaks.

Em: I was thinking. I was trying to narrow it down to one. (Lucky sighs and leans back in his chair).

Lucky: Ok. What is it? (Emily looks down at her plate again. It's not use. She's not going to finish this. She pushes the plate aside, and laces her fingers together, resting her elbows on the table in a distressingly business-like manner.

Em: How far does this go? (Lucky blinks)

Lucky: How far does what go?

Em: This. Whatever this is, how far does it go?

Lucky: I told you, I haven't made any… (Emily shakes her head in irritation)

Em: Yes, you have. You have, or we wouldn't be here. (She moves her fingertips to her temples and massages them lightly, trying to decide how to go about this. Finally she lets them drop, feeling an uncontrollable anger building up inside of her. She looks back at him, her voice tinged with bitterness) You know… I tried really hard not to ask you too many questions. I really did. And I guess that's because I didn't want to get into anything heavy. I figured I wouldn't make you talk about your stuff, and you wouldn't make me talk about mine… And now I'm sitting here, in this beautiful restaurant with someone I've loved for as long as I've known what love is… And I'm thinking, "You know what, Emily? This is about the most dysfunctional relationship in creation…"… And I'm a Quartermaine. (Lucky looks stung. Emily is aware that statement must have hurt him, but she doesn't feel repentant as she sees his face go cold).

Lucky: Dysfunctional. (Emily reaches for her water glass, trying very hard to appear calm, though she's so tense she's shaking).

Em: You don't think so?

Lucky: No, I don't.

Em: Well, that might be because you're the one who knows everything. (She puts the water glass down too quickly, the contents splashing up and soaking into the tablecloth. There is an unmistakable quiver in her voice) That might be it. That probably helps. See… I never get to know anything. I get to find out in all kinds of exciting ways, and then I get to sit here and try to figure out just WHAT I can do next time so that you'll trust me enough to actually tell me what's happening. But it never works. If I get mad… Or if I cry, or if I try really hard to understand… In the end, I have to tell you… I don't get it. You're so obviously…

Lucky: (challenging) What? (Emily stops dead, realizing she's taken a wrong turn yet again. This game is getting so repetitive she can't figure out why she can't remember the rules. She closes her eyes and shakes her head)

Em: You know what sucks? (She looks up at him. He doesn't say anything) What's really just incredibly awful about all of this? Is… I'm mad now. I'm really incredibly angry with you, and it's like… I know if I yell at you, or I get angry and make you feel bad, in a twisted way, that's what you want. (This registers a reaction. Lucky looks away from her quickly)

Lucky: (muttering) What are you talking about? (Emily laughs humorlessly, and picks up her napkin off her lap, twisting it in her hands as she speaks).

Em: It's like… I'm not even "Emily" to you anymore. I used to be your girlfriend. And that was a really clear line. You confided in me… You called me every night if I didn't call you first… You got me through family weddings and nurse's balls and all that stuff boyfriends are supposed to do… But it's like now, I'm… I'm like this surrogate for every relationship you don't have anymore. Like you father. You know? You keep stuff from me and after awhile you make sure I find out, and then I give you a rainbow of reactions and it's like… That way you can punish yourself without actually going through it with him. (She looks up at him, catching his eyes, and set her jaw firmly) And that sucks, Lucky. (Emily can tell Lucky is going on the defensive. However, she really could care less. He shakes his head, agitated).

Lucky: So… What was it you wanted to major in at Berkeley? I thought it was English Lit. or something… But did you really consider psychology? I mean, obviously you have an interest.

Em: Fine. Fine, Lucky. (Emily bows her head suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand and stifles a sob. Lucky looks, pushes his plate away, feeling about as badly as he could have conceived of. He really didn't mean to say that.)

Lucky: (quietly) I'm sorry.

Em: You're always sorry. (She looks up at him, tears rolling unapologetically down her face) Do you know how hard it is to love someone who hates themselves? Do you have any idea? What do I have to do? (Lucky looks down at the tablecloth) You know, your biggest fear, the thing that ate you up, that completely consumed your life for two years… Your Dad finding out about Nikolas… It happened. And you haven't said a word. You've never even said it out loud. I wouldn't even know, would I? Not if I didn't know you so well that… You wouldn't have told me. You never tell anything.

Lucky: Emily. (Emily wipes her eyes carefully, laughing slightly)

Em: I wasn't going to do this. I sat here for… What is it now? An hour? Trying to figure out how I could be ok with this and not hurt you. Well, you set it up so that I HAVE to hurt you! And then, if I'm not mean enough, you push me so I get angrier. (She throws down her napkin in frustration) I hate being mad at you. It eats me up. So… What do I have to do to end this? What do I have to do to make you stop? Luke knows, right? He knows. Will you just say it out loud? Just spit it out. He knows what you did. (Lucky jerks his head up, his eyes flashing).

Lucky: Yes he knows! He knows everything. (He sits back a moment, as this sinks in. She's right. That is the first time he's said it out loud. It's the first time he's even let his mind stay there long enough to think it).

Em: (quietly) I thought it would end when he knew.

Lucky: It's just the beginning. When he didn't know… He didn't hate me.

Em: He can't hate you.

Lucky: Do you think that's supposed to make it better? When you father can't look at you? Maybe he doesn't, but he probably wants to.

Em: What do you mean? (Lucky shakes his head firmly)

Lucky: There's no point to this.

Em: To what? To talking? To actually communicating?

Lucky: Why should I talk about this? It doesn't CHANGE anything. It doesn't change what I did.

Em: he's got to understand why you did it.

Lucky: Yeah. My Dad has a great history of understanding stuff like this. (Emily sits back and stares at him a minute)

Em: You did it again.

Lucky: What?

Em: You said something against Luke. That's the second time today… you never say anything negative about him, and now twice in one day…

Lucky: It's not negative, it's realistic. I know him, ok? I know how he thinks.

Em: Then you got to know he has different rules for you than he does for everyone else!

Lucky: Yeah. He does.

Em: Lucky!

Lucky: He's MY father, Emily. I know him, ok?

Em: Yeah, well, I've gotten to know him a bit over the years too, Lucky… and there isn't ANYTHING he wouldn't do for you!

Lucky: I don't WANT him to do anything for me.

Em: You don't really want much of anything these days, do you?

Lucky: What's that supposed to mean.

Em: Nevermind.

Lucky: Em…

Em: No way, I'm not letting you change the subject on me. This isn't about us, this is about you and your Dad. Lucky. (Emily takes a deep breath) You have to call him.

Lucky: (beyond shocked) What?

Em: Look at this. I mean, look at what's happening here. Did you think Nikolas was acting like he usually does?

Lucky: You keep telling me that I don't get to SEE Nikolas act like he usually does!

Em: Ok. Fine. But I've seen how he can be around you… And I've seen how he is around everybody else. And THAT wasn't either version. I've never seen him like that before. He needs help, Lucky. And so do you.

Lucky: (insistently) I'm not doing it.

Em: If you went to Luke, he would help you. He'd do anything for you.

Lucky: Emily.

Em: I know I'm right! I told you, he came to see me, he was desperate, he just wanted something to explain what was wrong with you. That's all!

Lucky: You're wrong.

Em: How can you be so sure of that? Lucky! What happened? What did he do? Will you just tell me?

Lucky: (heatedly) Look! I've known you a long time, Em… and you know me, I'm not arguing that. But you AREN'T a Spencer. You don't know how it works and you never will. (The second the words are out, Lucky wishes he could reclaim them. Emily stares at him, her mouth slightly open, then sucks in a sharp breath and averts her eyes, looking over his shoulder instead).

Em: Uh… (She smiles, staring hard at the wall behind Lucky as the paintings blur with the tears that are filling her eyes. She looks back at him, still smiling) I guess you really just did say it all. I've been waiting for that. For you to lay it all on the table. And I guess I know what I have to do now. (Emily stands up) Enjoy your solitude.

Lucky: Emily. (Emily turns and walks, quickly, out of the restaurant. Lucky stares after her, stunned, then shakes it off, cursing himself, and gets up to follow her. He's quickly headed off by the waiter)

Jeffrey: Is there a problem sir.

Lucky: None of your business. (He tries to push past him)

Jeffrey: With the service, sir. (Lucky looks at him incredulous)

Lucky: Look… I was told the bill was taken care of, right?

Jeffrey: There is the matter of a gratuity.

Lucky: Fine. (He pulls out his wallet and throws the remaining bills in the waiter's direction, and looks at him belligerently) Can I leave now? It's sort of an emergency.

Jeffrey: (put out) You certainly can. And I suggest you don't hurry back.

Lucky: Don't sweat it. (Lucky pushes past the man and runs out of the restaurant in pursuit of Emily).

Whiskey-a-Go-Go, Manhattan.

Nikolas enters a flashy and completely trashy nightclub. The interior is all black with long neon tubes of light running along the bar, creating shapes on the walls and marking the tops and bottoms of two large cages that hang from the ceiling. The place is empty apart from one patron sitting at a back table, two caged dancers and a bartender. One dancer is dancing under the watchful eye of the solitary customer while the other leans against the edge of her cage, smoking a cigarette. For the first time in his life, Nikolas actually sees Luke's as a place with some modicum of class. This… This place is unreal.

Nikolas focuses his gaze on the bartender, probably his best bet, and starts across the room towards him, trying to look like he's not completely out of place. Not an easy task. He takes a seat at the end of the bar, closest the door, and waits for the bartender to take notice. Finally the man moves down the bar towards him.

Greg: Hey. Can I get you something? (Oh, man. Ordering. He hadn't even given it a moment's consideration. And this is not a wine and liqueur place.)

Nik: Uh yeah… Just a beer is fine.

Greg: Tap?

Nik: I'm sorry?

Greg: Tap or are you looking for something else.

Nik: I… I don't care. Anything.

Greg: Huh. That kind of day, I hear you. (He pours the beer. Nikolas tries not to looks relieved not to have to get into ID debates with the man. The bar tender puts the beer down in front of him and leans on the bar) Three-fifty. (Nikolas tosses a ten on the bar)

Nik: Keep it. (Greg looks at the bill, then smiles crookedly, and heads to the cash. Nikolas glances back at the dancer who's gyrations make him feel slightly ill, then turns back to the bartender) Quiet.

Greg: Hey, this is a crowd for this time of night. We don't get much business before eight. Not even on a weeknight. (He eyes Nikolas carefully) You're not a regular.

Nik: (picking up the beer) No. No, I was looking for someone.

Greg: (cocking an eyebrow) Yeah? And who's that? (Nikolas forces down a mouthful of the liquid. It's distressingly warm. He winces slightly)

Nik: Oliver. (The bartender steps back, laughing)

Greg: Ollie? You know Ollie? (He laughs again, clapping his hands) Yeah, that makes sense. What, you look too young to be one of his frat brat buddies.

Nik: Uh, yeah. No, I know him from… We have a common acquaintance.

Greg: (getting wary) Oh, you do, huh?

Nik: That's what I hear.

Greg: Yeah, well… I don't get too messed up in Oliver's acquaintances, man. I just tend bar you know?

Nik: That's it?

Greg: You a cop? (Nikolas jerks back slightly in shock)

Nik: A cop? No. No, I'm not a cop. I… (He takes another drink from the glass, as if to prove his claim.) I just know a girl I think he used to… (Nikolas stops. Used to what? Talk about talking yourself into a corner. Here is not the place for a Cassadinism. He pauses, trying to think of some slang phrase, but his brain freezes on him) To… know.

Greg: Ah ha. Well, I mess with Ollie's love life about as much as I mess with his business, you know?

Nik: Yeah, well… That's why I was trying to track him down.

Greg: Well, can't help you there. He's not in tonight, don't expect him to the weekend.

Nik: I see. (Long pause. Nikolas considers whether a bribe would have any effect. He clears his throat) How long have you worked for him? (The man puts his hands up, displaying his palms to Nikolas).

Greg: Hey, I tend bar. That means I'll listen, man, but I don't pass out much information.

Nik: Just curious if you would have known her. (Greg gives a smarmy grin).

Greg: You're pretty hung up on this girl, huh?

Nik: I'm looking for a few… answers. That's all. Not a big deal.

Greg: (slowly) Ok. Ok, well try me then. But I gotta say, as many girls come in and out of here on Ollie's arm, I just stick with "sweetheart" and "baby" to keep them all straight.

Nik: (smiling slightly) Yeah, sounds like someone I know. (He looks back at him) Sophie Clark. Ring any bells?

Greg: (stepping back) Sophie? Sophie… you know Sophie? Oh, Oliver is DEFINITELY going to want to talk to you!

Nik: You knew her?

Greg: Oh, yeah. Way back, before… Well. (He leans across the bar, confidentially) Didn't always tend bar, you know? But I got myself into a little trouble, and now… Well, it keeps the cops off my back.

Nik: (really trying to look like he understands) Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.

Greg: But Sophie, YEAH. I remember her. She was hard to forget. Man. How is she?

Nik: Uh… Well.

Greg: She bail on you or something? 'Cause she'd have to have serious holes in her head to come back here.

Nik: I'm not looking for her. I'm just… You knew her, right?

Greg: Yeah. I was there the night she walked in… that was a different club. Jungle Pete's that time, I think. Yeah, we were all there, getting wasted, it was like… '91, '92… you know, that Grunge thing? Not a good time for night clubs. Anyway, just there, blowing off some steam, and in comes this woman. She still turn heads? (Nikolas nods)

Nik: Yeah. She does.

Greg: Yeah, well… We're talking exorcist action here. (Nikolas frowns, having no idea what that could mean)

Nik: (slowly) Yeah…

Greg: So she's alone, I mean, no girlfriends, nothing. Just alone and drinking and dancing with whatever guy starts pressing up against her… she was kinda hard to miss. And Oliver, he just decides that's it. He's going for her. So, he goes down, buys her a drink, turns out she's been in town for all of three hours. That was it. She moved into his place that night, and stuck around a hell of a lot longer than I expected. (Nikolas swallows hard, staring at the top of the bar)

Nik: Did she sing for him?

Greg: Sing? No. Did some dancing and stuff at some of the clubs, but that was it. She was his girl, you know? She didn't have to do anything. And she didn't. Man, I don't think I ever saw the girl sober. She was into anything. Whatever you had. Girl had big problems.

Nik: You never heard her sing?

Greg: No. No, is that what she's doing now?

Nik: She was.

Greg: Oh, baby. I can just imagine that. She any good?

Nik: Yeah, from what I heard.

Greg: I'm sure that's not the main attraction, though. (He leans back against the bar) Man. Sophie. She told you about Ollie?

Nik: A bit.

Greg: Yeah, he'll be flattered. You know, she lived with him a year, then out of the blue one day, she's just gone. Never saw her again. Man, was he savage. Breathed fire for, like, a month. Oh, he'd just love to know where she went.

Nik: (quietly) Yeah, I bet.

Greg: (grinning) You don't know that, though, do you?

Nik: Where she is? (He stops). Well… Not in any way that counts.

Greg: She left you too, huh?

Nik: Yeah. (He reaches into his pocket and takes out another bill, and tosses it on the bar) She left me. (He looks up at him) Look… I know what I came here to find out… you might want to just keep this between us. (Greg looks down at the note on the bar, then back at Nikolas)

Greg: Ollie's an old friend.

Nik: Yeah. But you don't even know my name. (He turns and walks out. Greg grins after him, then picks up the hundred dollar bill off the counter).

Greg: Maybe not… But it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.