Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Eight:
Boots or Hearts

“Well, you won't even let me talk to you, We got some air to clear. We'd probably only agree on one thing anyway, that's what the hell is happening here?” … The Tragically Hip.

He can't die.

Hotel Room, Eyio, Greece.

Emily lies across the bed, her feet on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. There are cracks, hard to miss, crisscrossing on the ceiling. They make no pattern. Emily frowns, wondering if she has ever been faced with a ceiling with no discernible pictures in it. She used to consider herself a champion ceiling gazer… She's only recently gotten back in touch with that part of herself, what with all the various hospitals and motel rooms she's had chance to lie down and brood in.

For the last few years, watching the chaos that was Alan and Monica, Emily has always felt just a touch of teenaged superiority. She and Lucky… they weren't going down that road. She was never going to be in love with someone who constantly made her want to scream. So… When exactly had that happened? Because, as of this moment, all the memories of not wanting to just scratch his eyes out are feeling a little fuzzy. She's tired of it. Tired of walking the line, tired of trying to understand… But what else does she have to do? He's the person she has to be with. She's told herself that for years. She sighs heavily and lets her eyes close. Maybe sometimes, she thinks, we all just have to be alone.

He hadn't always been like this, she remembers sadly. As crazy as he'd driven her at the beginning of their relationship, she'd still felt like things could be simple. For a brief period of time, she'd even thought they could be solved.

Emily's Room, Quartermaine Mansion.
Early December, 1997.

Emily is sitting on her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, her chin rested against them, staring at the opposite wall. She can hear a cold wind blowing outside, but outside of that, everything is quiet. She closes her eyes, wishing someone would come home and make some noise. It's almost two AM, hours since she left the club, and aside from Ned's reappearance, she hasn't spoken to a real person in hours.

She can't stop replaying the events at the club in her mind. The blood on Jason's shirt… The way he'd just put his head down on the table in exhaustion while the police berated him… Lucky's strange prickly demeanor… All of it. She wishes she was somewhere, ANYWHERE, that wasn't so quiet. There's no way she's going to be able to sleep until she has some clue what's going to happen, to either Jason or Nikolas.

Emily jumps at the sound of something tapping against her window. She looks over and sees Lucky crouched on her rooftop. Emily feels her heart rise out of her stomach and leaps off the bed, flying across the room. She pulls the window open in a quick gesture.

Em: (shocked, but thrilled) Oh my God! What are you doing?

Lucky: (climbing into her room) Living dangerously. (He drops down onto the floor, slightly out of breath) Are your parents back yet?

Em: No. (Emily feels like she's not quite there… a certain feeling of being in a heightened reality. She turns away, walking unsteadily back to her bed. Lucky watches her, as he shuts the window). I've been listening for them.

Lucky: Are you ok?

Em: (turning back) Huh?

Lucky: You look scared. (Emily nods slightly, tears coming to her eyes)

Em: I just can't believe this happened. (Lucky crosses to her and carefully pulls her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. Emily closes her eyes and leans against him, an enormous lump in her throat. She hears his heart, beating rapidly… more rapidly than she would have guessed… in his chest. His hold on her tightens Emily slowly winds her arms around his waist and hugs him back. She feels the air rush out of his lungs and he lays his head against her shoulder. She bites her lip, feeling a flash of fear that he's come with bad news) Lucky?

Lucky: (tightly) Yeah. (Emily pulls back looking up at him. She studies his eyes)

Em: Is everything ok? Did you…

Lucky: What?

Em: (in a rush of guilt) I'm… I'm sorry they made me go home, I should have just gone to the hospital with you, but…

Lucky: Jason. (Emily winces slightly, almost apologizing for letting herself get swept up in that. Anger had been a lot easier to handle than crippling fear... and Lucky hadn't announced he was going to the hospital so much as left a message with Mike and disappeared).

Em: They arrested him. (Lucky nods, staring at the seam where her wall reaches the ceiling)

Lucky: (quietly) The doctors said Jason saved his life.

Em: (blinking) Nikolas…?

Lucky: Yeah. (He takes a deep breath and ground himself) He's out of surgery… I thought you'd want to know. (Emily opens her mouth, a dozen phrases coming to mind so quickly she can't get them out. Then something occurs to her and she furrows her brow).

Em: You stayed? Through the whole thing?

Lucky: (shrugging) Sarah was pretty upset. Actually, Lizzie and I left her there. But he was out of surgery, he made it. (Emily feels herself go weak with relief and buries herself against him again. After a moment, Lucky bends his knees slightly and gathers her up against him, trying to get her as close to him as possible. She feels warm and every part of him is still frozen solid from the walk to the Hardy's, and then back across town to the mansion. Emily opens her eyes, realizing this is the closest they have ever been… and she's in her robe and pajamas, in her bedroom… She closes her eyes against the thought and holds him as tightly as she can. His heart is still racing, and she's so close to him she can feel it reverberate through her. He says nothing, though.)

Em: (murmuring) He's going to be all right. Thank God. (Lucky just stares straight ahead.)

Lucky: Yeah. Everything's going to be fine.

The docks, Eyio, Greece.

Lucky finds himself down the same section of docks he was walking the night before. He'd started OUT going back to the hotel, but he'd let himself get easily led away, unprepared to go upstairs and face music he was beginning to hate the tune of.

It isn't her fault. He's more than aware of that. She is probably the most patient person on earth. Either that or she loves him more than he could possible deserve. Maybe every thing has only been *this* extreme for a short period of time, but what, really, has Emily ever gained out of loving him? She functions fully and independently of him. He can't remember the last time she relied on him for anything. If her family was driving her crazy she went to Jason's. When she was having trouble with school, she'd done everything BUT confide in him. And while he was dealing with whatever trauma was harassing him, she just held it in and waited for him to come back to the surface.

In the meantime, she got to wrangle with his moods, his anger and frustration, his complete inability to handle what was going on around him… She'd fought harder for him than anyone ever had. Once he would have put her on par with his father, but those days were over. Whatever Luke is, he's probably just grateful never to be faced with the son who betrayed him.

A part of Lucky knows, fully and completely, that nothing with Luke could be that simple. He also knows his father couldn't look at him. And he'd rather never see him again than have to deal with him not being able to look him in the eyes. Anything else would hurt too much. Even thinking about it is like turning a knife in his gut.

Lucky reaches the end of the pier and stares out at the water. He'd ended up here last night around two am, after having lain awake, watching Emily sleep, for an hour and a half. There is a limit, no matter how much you love someone, to how long you can watch them. Especially if you're beginning to suspect you're going to let them down again. And he could feel it sneaking up on him, slowly… It was like a spirit that possessed him. Vicious and cruel, but strangely protective. He'd waken it up again from a nearly dormant state and now it was out for blood.

Lucky closes his eyes. How bad can he really feel about that? After all… It was Nikolas who started this. Maybe it was years ago, maybe it is something he should just be able to let slide off his back. But why would he? Even thinking about it makes him feel intensely ill. That he let it happen, the one thing he'd Always sworn against.

He let a Cassadine get to him.

General Hospital, ICU.
December 1997.

Lucky is idly occupying his mind with the task of trying to find a pattern in the tiles on the floor, a mathematical reason that they alternate orange and beige with brown tiles thrown in on occasion where either beige or orange tiles should be. He realizes someone is approaching but doesn't look up until she slides into the chair next to him and he smells the gentle scent of her perfume. Emily.

Em: (gently) Lizzie's going to bring you food. (Lucky face clouds in confusion, and he pulls himself away from his tile task).

Lucky: What? (Emily looks away, twisting her hands together, obviously uncertain.)

Em: She felt like she should do something, so she went down to the cafeteria. She said she's had fantasies about force-feeding Sarah. (Emily cringes slightly after the words leave her mouth, aware that they might not sound appropriate. Lucky's stomach tightens. He doesn't want to think about Sarah for too long).

Lucky: (nodding slowly) Yeah, Sarah should eat something. She's spun. (Emily sighs, the exhalation of breath saying everything… Sarah's being intolerable and if Lizzie wasn't there to temper her, she'd have been tossed out a window for certain at this point).

Em: Well, the consensus is you should eat something, too. (Lucky grimaces at the thought. His stomach is contracting like a fist and he can't imagine trying to add food into whatever else is going on down there).

Lucky: I'll grab something at home.

Em: (smiling slightly) I've seen your kitchen. What are you going to have? A glass of orange juice and some baking soda? (Lucky gives a small laugh)

Lucky: We're not that bad. (Emily leans her head against his shoulder, twining her fingers through his. He squeezes her hand and she smiles.) Does your father know about this? (Lucky shrugs)

Lucky: Wouldn't matter if he did.

Em: Well… I mean… if this is serious, then…

Lucky: (a little sharp) It won't matter. (Emily looks at him, uncertain) Look. It's not like we decided Mom's not going to know. We decided *we're* not going to be the ones to tell her. Stefan isn't exactly rushing to a phone. Besides, I don't think Nikolas wants her to know.

Em: How do you know that?

Lucky: (defensively) That's what we were talking about, ok? That's it. For about two seconds. Nothing else happened. (Lucky, realizing his voice is rising, turns away, trying to get a grip. Emily stares down at the floor a moment before looking back at him).

Em: Sarah shouldn't have said all that stuff to you.

Lucky: (mildly) Yeah, well… She's upset.

Em: (bitterly) Join the club. She doesn't have a monopoly on that, you know? It's upsetting to everyone.

Lucky: He's her boyfriend.

Em: He's your brother! (Emily's eyes widen upon realizing what she just said. Lucky doesn't blink, barely reacts to a statement that, a month ago, had nearly gotten her head taken off. He just stares down at their hands, not saying anything. Emily studies his face a moment) You know this wasn't you fault, right? It just happened. You didn't…

Lucky: I know. (He looks over at her a moment, then smiles weakly) Thanks for not making me say it, though.

Nikolas' Room, Eyio Greece.

Nikolas rests his head against his wrist, which is rested against the window. There is a small street in front of the hotel. It's on a side street, just a little out of the way in an already tiny Port City. Small in a way America doesn't seem to know. Tiny little pockets of people, linked by road and boat to other tiny little pockets… Big cities can be counted on one hand.

It's been too long, he thinks. He grew up here… in this climate. He should miss it more. But a part of him had never allowed himself to really consider this place. Everyone in Port Charles put a little twist on the word “Island”, as if they were talking about the gates of hell. It had colored the way he'd thought of it. As if, to fit in, he had to reject the place he came from.

Going back was going to be strange. Going back with Lucky… If they made it that far. Lucky probably hated the island more than anyone on this earth… Luke excepted. Even Laura had nice things to say about from an aesthetic point of view. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but it seemed to be the way she chose to remember it.

Nikolas crosses to the bed and drops down onto it. Selective memory. Or spin control… Laura had an incredible gift for it. Why wasn't that something he could have inherited? Nikolas grimaces slightly. Probably because almost everything he was he learned from his father. Laura wasn't there to provide him with her unique brand of self-delusion. And as much as he hated it, there were times he wished he'd been able to lie to himself as easily as she could. Right now would be a perfect time. To just say Lucky's venom was born of lack of sleep, too much sun, not enough food… Anything that didn't make him the cause. He was sick of being the target of Lucky's anger. It would help if he could understand what motivated Lucky. But that had always been a mystery. If he'd been able to understand where Lucky was coming from… Things might have stood in very different places at this moment.

General Hospital, nurse's station.
December 1997.

Nikolas takes a clip board and moves to the waiting area, barely concealing his irritation… not just with being back in a hospital, but also with having to fill out more forms. After the number of hospital visits he's had in the last year, you'd think they would have run out of forms. He sits down in the waiting area and begins to fill them out. He stops after his first name, aware that the words are getting jumbled in his head. His own name. He shakes his head, unwilling to acknowledge it, and presses harder. As he begins the “M” of his second name, as a shadow falls across the clipboard.

Lucky: Hey. (Nikolas' pencil breaks and he sighs before looking up accusingly. He sees Lucky, closes his eyes, then turns back to the clipboard) Right. I heard you don't have much to say these days. (Nikolas shoots a glare in Lucky's direction, gesturing to indicate that he has paperwork to do. Lucky smirks) Yeah, good luck with that. (He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a pen, which he flips around his fingers, then hands it to Nikolas) Here. Just make sure you don't go outside the lines. (Nikolas stares at Lucky, then at the pen, then back at Lucky. Lucky shifts his weight impatiently) Do you want it or not? (After a moment, Nikolas takes the pen.)

Nik: Thank… (He lets the sentence trail off, not trusting himself to follow it with the correct word. If Lucky can tell he's struggling, he doesn't acknowledge it.)

Lucky: You might want to invest in one of those, I'm running out. (Nikolas furrows his brow. As much as he'd like to just accept this as a gesture, it's LUCKY and everything with Lucky comes with acrimony, as far as he can tell. He sees Lucky's attention turn to something across the room). I gotta go. (Lucky turns and walks off, towards Emily who has just appeared down a corridor. Nikolas watches her smile as she catches sight of him. Lucky approaches her, extends his hand, and she takes it, laughing as she asks him something, her face quizzical. Nikolas sees Lucky shrug noncommittally, and lead her towards the elevator. Emily throws a quick look over her shoulder and spots Nikolas. She smiles at him warmly… an expression Nikolas wasn't sure he was going to see from her again, given their current circumstances. She waves quickly, just as Lucky pulls her onto the elevator and has already turns her attention back to her boyfriend when Nikolas returns the gesture. The doors slide shut, taking them away.)

The Pier, Eyio, Greece.

Lucky had been trying, for days now, to figure out just what move had been the fatal mistake. Where had he slipped? If he can pinpoint one moment where it all started to come apart then maybe he could figure out exactly how to cure himself of this. It would determine, once and for all, who's fault this mess was. And it seems, after hours of contemplation, he's finally found it.

He should never have gone outside the club.

It was that simple. Everything would have been just the way it had always been then. And why exactly had he gone out of the club anyway? He'd been the first person out the door, making it from across the room to the exit quicker than the rest of the stunned parties. Why had he done that?

Right. His father. He'd known his father had gone outside with Jason, he'd seen them leave, and it had not, for one second, crossed his mind that anything would have happened to Nikolas. All he wanted to do was make sure that his worst fear since childhood hadn't just happened… that his father had not just been gunned down.

There was an irony there, but it's was buried too deep, and Lucky is too tired to go searching for it. His head is feeling just as murky as it had since he'd laid eyes on Nikolas again in the tearoom. Like logic and some pure, gut-based, rage are fighting it out in front of him. And if logic ever begins to prevail, the rage comes back with double intensity. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. How long is he going to keep doing this? It's wearing him out.

Back to the point at hand. He has to admit that, as long as he was aware that his father was outside during a hail of gunfire, there was no reasonable way he could have expected himself to remain in the club. And by that reasoning… There was never any way this couldn't have happened.

It was enough to make you believe in God, if only because you suspected He was laughing at you.

Alley way by Kelly's.
December, 1997.

Lucky is getting irritated. He fiddles with the lock on his bicycle, which is not cooperating due to the cold weather. Figures. There's no snow, it's still possible to ride, but the lock has decided, in no uncertain terms, that it's not going to open. After several tries he throws in down to the ground in disgust, an emotion he's becoming familiar with.

He can't believe he's started fighting with his father again. Like things hadn't been weird enough the last few weeks, he has to get into this. He's not even MAD at his father, he's just THERE. And annoyingly amused by what he's now characterizing as a “stage”. Lucky is aware that any time anyone starts to feed him labels, or says anything that acknowledges that he might be something close to normal, he gets tense. And his father being the one who drilled that into him, makes these accusations all the more annoying.

Not that he's really angry about some off hand remark his father made at the club that afternoon. That isn't the issue, the issue is just what it's been since his Dad blew back from Europe solo.

Every conversation he's had with his father lately has been strange. Bordering on pointless. Discussion about milk. Why wasn't there orange juice? Who forgot to feed the dog… Just them in the house now, Bobbie and Lucas having moved back to the Brownstone, and things were scary quiet. Like they didn't have enough to say to each other. Or just that they didn't want to find out what the other one was thinking about the decision they'd made.

All he and his father had talked about since Luke had come home was his mother. Why she was staying away when, from all appearances, his grandmother was nearly recovered. Why Luke was letting everything slide like this. Why everyone thought Lucky was crazy for suspecting something was up.

Then what happens? Nikolas gets shot. And there is Bobbie standing in front of them and saying “You have to tell Laura”.

Tell Laura. That was the key to everything. Tell her and watch how fast she'd come home this time. Forget Christmas visits and guessing games, she'd be back where she belonged. And if the Cassadines were up to something, it'd all come out soon enough.

But even as he thought this, the words had come out of his mouth.

“Dad, you can't.”

And he didn't. Which should be a good thing.

Lucky shakes his head hard. Work! He's at work, he has a job, and he has to stop thinking about this. He picks up the lock and begins to fight with it again, his mind still stubbornly coming over old information… So that's what it comes down to, huh, Spencer? You want your mother home… but not enough to have to watch her fret over Nikolas. It was true. The only thing that made him more sick than worrying about what was going on, what the piece of the puzzle he was missing, was the idea of Nikolas being the thing that brought Laura home. He just didn't want to know how quick she'd toss everything over to rush back to her fallen first-born.

Ouch. Lucky winces at the thought as the lock finally pops. He quickly locks up the bike, forcing his mind to concentrate on the menial task, then turns round the corner, through the fence, to the patio in front of Kelly's.

Lucky freezes on the spot upon spotting Nikolas. You've got to be kidding, his brain mutters. He blinks, making certain that he's not seeing anything, then orders himself to disregard it and go inside.

Lucky turns to the door and grasps the handle. He pulls the door open and the bells ring. He cringes, then notices that there is no sound coming from behind him. Curiosity gets the better of him and, after a moment he lets the go and turns around, facing Nikolas' back. He hasn't moved, still standing there, statue-still, and staring off at absolutely nothing. Lucky frowns.

Lucky: What are you doing here? (Nikolas doesn't answer. He knew Lucky was there, and was really hoping he'd leave him alone, that if he agreed not to acknowledge him, he would return the favor. Besides that, it's not like he can carry on any sort of intelligible conversation) Even though the hospital was willing to let you go, I thought Uncle Stiff would still have you under lock and key. Does he know you're slumming down here without a note pad? (Nikolas, almost afraid of what he's going to see, turns around. Lucky has his arms crossed and is looking at him, eye brows raised)

Nik: (after a moment) Waiting. (Lucky, still unsure of why he's talking to him, smirks, trying to cover a feeling of unsteadiness.)

Lucky: Not for Sarah, I hope. (Nikolas nods slightly) Geeze, you'd think after last time, she'd try to be on time.

Nik: I… (He clears his throat, covering the string of words he can't come up with) Early.

Lucky: Yeah, well… either way, why don't you come inside before you give someone ideas. (Nikolas narrows his eyes at Lucky slightly. Lucky backtracks quickly, shrugging.) Or you can stand out here and freeze, it's really your choice.

Nik: (carefully) I'm fine.

Lucky: Your call. (He looks at him a moment, cocking his head) You're talking.

Nik: A little.

Lucky: (a bit suspicious) That didn't take long.

Nik: Katherine…

Lucky: She's helping you?

Nik: (shaking his head) Katherine… (He sighs and just pushes through) Therapist.

Lucky: She got you one.

Nik: (nodding) Insisted.

Lucky: Count Vlad's just making all kinds of concessions, isn't he? He must be doing back flips that you're out of school and back on the island. (Nikolas looks back at Lucky in complete confusion. What is this? A conversation? Or a long drawn out excuse to mock him? What was it about Lucky that made it so hard to tell?)

Nik: (after a moment) He… control don't… (Nikolas stops and clenches his hand into a fist. Lucky looks away from him quickly)

Lucky: I get it. (For some reason, hearing Nikolas, who's speech has always driven him crazy, struggling like this isn't as satisfying as it should be. In fact, he's feeling a bit queasy. He glances back at him. He's dressed better for the weather than Lucky is, wearing gloves, a long coat and a scarf that covers his neck completely) How is… (Lucky gestures to his throat. Nikolas nods quickly)

Nik: Ok.

Lucky: Good. (He blinks, upon realizing what he just said) I mean… (He stops. Oh, forget it. He looks away, speaking quickly.) Look, just don't freeze out here. We have heat inside if you want. (Lucky turns without waiting for a response and enters Kelly's, pulling the door shut firmly behind him. He stops and takes a very purposeful breath, before turning back and seeing Lizzie and Ruby staring at him from behind the counter. He immediately tenses.) What? (Lizzie, her eyes wide, unsuccessfully attempts to suppress a laugh.)

Lizzie: Did you see a ghost or something? (Lucky scowls at her, crossing to the counter.)

Lucky: (on the line between teasing and being honestly nasty) Scariest thing I've seen lately is you. (Lizzie raises her eyebrows at him)

Ruby: (warning) Be nice. (She picks up a tray and goes into the kitchen. Lizzie sticks her tongue out at him, then rounds the counter to start to bus tables)

Lizzie: See? I'm making headway. She's started to take my side.

Lucky: (sitting down) You must be proud. (Lizzie glances out the window)

Lizzie: Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. (Lucky looks up at her sharply. Lizzie smiles at him and puts a finger to her lips then turns and walks into the kitchen after Ruby. Lucky puts his head in his hands and leans on the counter. What, exactly, did he think he was doing?)

Hotel Room, Eyio, Greece.

Emily rolls over on her side, aware that her head is starting to throb. God. She's so sick of this omnipresent headache. She's been dismissing it as stress- related, or just a product of switching time zones, locations… being on a plane, then a boat, then a train… It's dizzying. She SHOULD have a headache, anyone would.

Emily sits up and reaches over to the nightstand, pulling the bag of toiletries towards her. She rummages through it, scowling, and searching out the illusive bottle of Acetaminophen.

She unscrews the cap, staring off at the opposite wall. She wishes she didn't feel this guilty for feeling fed up. She has it coming, she reminds herself. Look at this… just step out of the situation and LOOK at your life. Look what's happening. In a foreign country, with the remnants of a head injury, with two people who are undeniably linked by blood, but can't stand to be in the same room together. And if they can, then the next time they talk, everything gets ugly. It was crazy. It was more than anyone should ever be asked to put up with.

Emily smiles ruefully. Then take a step back and look at the rest of it. Look at living with the Quartermaine, look at being orphaned when you're eleven, look at feeling like the best friend you have in the world is an herbal product that makes everything look crystal clear and still makes it impossible for you to care. Lucky had told her once that he wanted to take the place of drugs in her life… and she'd told him that was insane. But in a way, he had. She had always known that she could rely on him, and she loved the fact that he relied on her. That she could help him. It made her feel important in a way that no one else ever had. And maybe that was co-dependent, but a part of her stubbornly did not CARE. She loved him, he loved her, and that made everything else just details.

Emily swallows down two pills without benefit of water. In a way, all of this had been what had bound her and Lucky from the start, tighter than anything else had. It was what had helped her begin to understand him. It was what had separated them from the rest of the world. Sharing a secret, that was an intense experience. And even before the secret had been a part of their world, she'd known he was telling her more than he was telling anyone else.

That had been her knew rush. One step forward, two steps back.

Lucky's Room, Spencer House.
Late December, 1997.

Emily pauses outside Lucky's door. Luke had seemed more than distracted when he'd answered the door. She'd gotten the distinct impression that he was really working at being nice to her. She usually called before she came over, but this time… She'd MEANT to go straight home after finishing her project at school, but she'd ended up walking past the mansion, heading up the hill to Lucky's house. He as supposed to leave for Switzerland first thing in the morning and she felt like she was missing something. Like he was going to leave without saying good- bye. She knocks lightly on the door.

Lucky: (muffled) What NOW? (Emily pauses, then, deciding that was an invitation, opens the door slightly. Lucky is lying on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.)

Em: Hey…

Lucky: Em. (He sits up quickly, turning to face her, his expression slightly panicked.) Uh, hi. (Emily forces a bright smile, not acknowledging the state of the room… clothes that should be packed tossed in the middle of the floor, the suitcase on it's side. She closes the door behind her)

Em: Hi… I missed you at school today.

Lucky: Uh, yeah. (he runs his fingers through his hair) I got sidetracked.

Em: I guess I can understand that. (she frowns slightly) You must have a lot of packing and stuff to do. (She looks over at him, his eyes now focused on the suitcase as well) When are you leaving?

Lucky: (getting up) I'm not.

Em: What? (Lucky walks over to the window, turning his back to her)

Lucky: I'm not going. (Emily stares at him, struggling.)

Em: But… I thought… (She stops, searching for words) You said you wanted to… you NEEDED to see them.

Lucky: (flat) It's different now. (Emily sits down on the bed, in shock. When Lucky had told her he was going to Switzerland for Christmas, she'd been disappointed to know she's still be dealing with Christmas parties etc. on her own, but she'd been proud of him too… that he was making an actual move towards his mother. It had seemed like a healthy choice. This seemed… Dangerous).

Em: (fumbling for words) How does your Dad feel about this? (Lucky sighs and sags against the window, closing his eyes)

Lucky: Not good.

Em: Wow… Lucky.

Lucky: (turning to face her) What am I supposed to do? I mean… If she misses me so damn much she can just make a pit stop here for 48 hours. I mean, they have Christmas in Switzerland, don't they? (Emily shakes her head, trying to figure out just where this came from.)

Em: When did you decide this?

Lucky: (mumbling) Last night.

Em: Why? (He looks up sharply)

Lucky: Why NOT?

Em: Because you wanted to do this! Because you've been totally focused on going to Switzerland for weeks! What changed? (Emily stops, aware that she didn't censor a syllable of that. She looks at Lucky, uncertain of what his reaction might be. This has been an intense couple of weeks. Lucky stares at her a long moment, his expression unreadable until it crumbles into confusion and fear.)

Lucky: How am I supposed to just look at her and not tell her everything, Em? (Emily stares into his eyes, touched by how vulnerable he looks. She gets up and crosses to him)

Em: (vehemently) So tell her everything! Tell her you miss her, tell her you're mad that she's not coming home, just TELL her…

Lucky: Tell her Nikolas was shot? (Emily stops. She considers this a moment)

Em: It's not like the sky would cave in. (Lucky shakes his head, looking away.)

Lucky: My Dad made his decision. I support it. End of story. (Emily takes in his posture, how rigid his stance his, how he seems to be holding himself away from her. She feels momentarily bold and reaches out, putting her hands on his waist lightly. He tenses, then looks back at her. She meets his gaze).

Em: (quietly) But you don't think you can look at her and not tell the truth?

Lucky: (unsteadily) I don't KNOW what I'll do! Emily… Half the stuff I do, I can't figure out later. It's like my brain is ten steps behind everything else and I don't have an answer to ANYTHING. You know? (He moves a hand up to her face) Like… Like when I kissed you… you probably had a better clue of why I did that than I did. (His face darkens and he looks away) Or why I decided in the middle of everything to start fighting with Nikolas about my mother… Or why I went and got that stupid pen…

Em: You didn't want him to die! (Lucky drops his hand, closing his eyes. Emily leans forward, laying her head against his chest. After a moment, he releases his vice grip from the windowsill and wraps his arms around her. His heart is racing again, the same way it was the night he came to her room. Emily begins to feel a sinking feeling that, even though she suspected this was bothering Lucky more than he'd say, this is really beginning to torture him. She takes a deep breath) Just… Don't write Switzerland off completely, ok?

Lucky: (into her hair) Are you giving me advice?

Em: (laughing a little) I guess so.

Lucky: I guess that's allowed. (He pulls back and looks down at her, giving a crooked smile.) From you. (Emily smiles back, blushing slightly. He strokes her hair gently, and she gets the distinct impression the topic is going to be changing soon).

Em: You just found out you care a bit. That's a good thing, Lucky.

Lucky: (a bit frustrated) If it's such a good thing, then why doesn't it make more sense? I mean… (he looks back at Emily) He's nothing to me. He's just this guy who has the same mother I do, I don't even really know him. (The words come out with a sense of finality that makes Emily wonder who he's trying to convince).

Em: Well, maybe that's why, then. (Lucky leans in slightly and brushes his lips against hers in a tentative kiss, that comes off like a suggestion).

Lucky: Why what? (Emily gives the kiss a slightly response, sliding her arms around his waist).

Em: Why you got the pen.

The Docks, Eyio, Greece.

Lucky turns and heads back down the pier. It's getting late, and he can't pretend there isn't a bigger task at hand. The one part of his brain that never stops pushing forward. There was something to be said for basic training. At least he knew he could take care of whatever needed to be done. Even if he was flunking out on every other test he was given.

He hates feeling like he's out of control more than anything in the world. And he can't remember the last time he thought he really had a grip on what was going on around him. Maybe right after Switzerland, when everything was just beginning. When he felt like everything made sense. Like he was doing what had to be done. How long had that lasted? He couldn't really remember. It had been better than the way he'd felt before he left… ambiguous, torn… And completely out of control. Otherwise, he'd be able to explain it. He'd have an excuse for why he kept going back on the most basic of decisions. Maybe then he could stop thinking about it.

The Docks, Banister’s Wharf.
January, 1998.

Lucky walks along the docks, heading back to Kelly's the long way after a delivery. He's been doing this, though he doesn't even want to admit it to himself… just passing by Banister’s Wharf a little more often than necessary. He has no idea what he's doing here. He can't explain it to himself, it makes him feel nervous and uneasy, but… Every so often, a Cassadine can be found here. Nikolas won't leave him alone, at least the thought of him. It's even beginning to invade his dreams… images of Nikolas on the ground, about to drown on his own blood. He can't close his mind to it and he has no solution for himself, outside of what he's all ready done.

And so now he does this, just finds himself making it easier for him to run into Nikolas… He's not even sure why. To make sure he's all right? To ensure he's not suffering too badly from Laura's absence? To just see if he's still recovering… Something. It's like a question he can't quite form, but is still looking for an answer too.

Lucky approaches the wharf and sees, immediately upon glancing down to the dock below, that Nikolas is there. He freezes. Now what?

Nikolas is staring out at the water, looking, even from several feet away, impatient. The launch can be seen heading across the water. Lucky wonders mildly how it is the Cassadines, for all their wealth, still spend so much time standing around like mere mortals, waiting for transportation. He lets his eyes travel quickly over Nikolas… still seems to be in one piece. And it's not like he has anything to say to him. He sighs and turns on the boards, towards Kelly's. He's barely taken a step when he hears a voice.

Nik: Hey. (Lucky stops. Oh, great… He considers, his options, then turns back. Nikolas has turned, and it looking up at him, his expression blank. Lucky digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket).

Lucky: Hey. (He and Nikolas stare at each other a moment, out of words. Small talk isn't really anything that has ever existed between them. Lucky looks down the stairs, then back at the water. He breathes steadily. This is stupid. He takes a few steps down the stairs, and after a moment's hesitation, Nikolas steps away from the edge of the dock. They slowly walk towards each other, neither really admitting it's happening, until they are standing at a nearly conversational distance. Lucky hunches his shoulders, uncomfortable. He says the only thing that comes to his mind.) I talked to mom last night. (Nikolas blinks. He glances over his shoulder quickly, then looks back at Lucky)

Nik: How is she?

Lucky: (smiling slightly) That was a whole sentence. (Nikolas feels a flash of embarrassment. He loathes people commenting on his speech, preferring to have them just ignore it).

Nik: (a bit caustic) Impressed? (Lucky shrugs, dismissive)

Lucky: Not yet.

Nik: (pressing) Question. (It takes Lucky a second to connect what Nikolas is saying)

Lucky: Right. Uh… (He clears his throat, shifting his weight) She's fine. (Nikolas nods)

Nik: Lulu? (A smile creeps across Lucky's face without permission… a knee-jerk reaction to his sister's name.)

Lucky: Good. Really good. She's talking and stuff. Growing up fast.

Nik: (looking out at the water) Missing… (He gestures slightly. Lucky nods, understanding exactly what Nikolas is saying.)

Lucky: Yeah, well. Who's fault is that? (Nikolas shoots Lucky a look. Lucky pretends not to notice, though he feels a flash of remorse. He didn't mean for that to come out quite the way it sounded, but he's damned if he's going to apologize for it. Besides… There's no point in going down that road…. as Emily had pointed out, even if the Cassadines WERE behind his mother's continued absence, Nikolas probably knew nothing about it. He clears his throat) I'm… I'm going to go to Switzerland. At the end of the month.

Nik: Why? (Lucky flinches slightly)

Lucky: Why not? (There's a pause)

Nik: You won't tell her. (Lucky swallows hard. He would ask that. He glances back at him. For a moment Nikolas doesn't looks quite so tough, cold. He almost looks a bit human).

Lucky: Do you want me to? (Nikolas furrows his brow, shocked at the question. Lucky coughs, trying to cover his own surprise that the sentence came out of his mouth).

Nik: Offering? (Lucky shakes his head)

Lucky: That's not what I said. (They regard each other warily. Lucky takes a step back. What the hell is wrong with him? This is Nikolas. Cassadine. His dad and he discussed this, anyway. And Nikolas is talking now, if he wants to tell someone what happened all he has to do it pick up a phone).

Nik: (after a long pause, though decisive) No. I don't want her… Pity. (The last word twists in Nikolas' mouth, coming out a little accusing. Lucky bristles. He retreats up the step)

Lucky: Whatever. (a familiar smirk lands on his face) I think you got enough pity as it is.

Hotel Room, Eyio, Greece.

Nikolas holds the box containing Hannah's ashes in his hands. For the first time, holding this, he feels intensely removed from what they actually are. It's dust. Nothing he can feel an emotional attachment to… Even if they are HER, in some distant way, at this moment, they don't feel anything close to real.

He closes his eyes. It's still so easy to see, one of the memories of her that runs with complete clarity through his mind. The strange expression on her face, partially knowing, partially confused.

“You don't see it do you? He wants something from you.”

What Hannah hadn't seen was everything that had come before. He'd tried to explain it to her, but how the hell do you explain stuff you can barely stand to think about? Nothing with Lucky had ever been simple. And half the stuff that came out of his mouth appeared to mean one thing but was said with so much contempt that the intention felt undeniably clear.

Lucky had, it had seemed, been around every corner back then. And Nikolas hadn't known what to think about it. He'd just become increasingly aware of a desire to believe that Lucky was there because he wanted to be. Because he cared. It took the edge off of everything… the idea that, somehow, Lucky couldn't handle the idea of him dying anymore than Stefan could. It was then that Nikolas had begun to differentiate him from Luke… Luke, he just couldn't get a handle on. He loathed him with every fiber of his being, that was in his eyes. But he was very susceptible to the “Laura” card. That was the only reason he'd been able to see Lulu when Laura finally came home… a strange agreement that seemed to be that he could see his sister as long as no one had to really face the fact that he was a part of her life. That was guilt at work. That, he still believed, was a product, pure and simple, of the fact that he'd been shot on Luke's doorstep.

So that was Luke's payoff… At least it had been clear. What Lucky had been up to, Nikolas still wasn't sure he understood.

The Stone Bench, Wyndemere,
January, 1998.

Sarah sits, straddled, on the bench, leaning on Nikolas' shoulder as he stares moodily out at the water.

Sarah: (softly) Why does this bother you so much? (Nikolas shifts, sinking his hands into the pockets of his jacket)

Nik: It doesn't… (He sighs heavily, in frustration. Sarah frowns)

Sarah: Look, Lucky… he's always given you a hard time. I've seen it. You don't need him bothering you right now. (Nikolas closes his eyes. This is getting painful. He just can't get the words out right, and even if he could, he feels like he still wouldn't make sense. Sarah sees his expression, misreading it) If you want him to leave you alone, then just tell him. Or… I could talk to Emily…

Nik: NO! No. (He struggles a moment, then stops.) Can't explain. (Sarah smiles at him, and wraps her arms around his.)

Sarah: You don't have to. I understand. (Nikolas shakes his head)

Nik: No.

Sarah: You just… You don't need to think about this stuff right now. Just concentrate on getting well… that's what matters. (Nikolas thinks bitterly that Sarah has been spending too much time with Katherine. Even though he'd chanting the same annoying platitude to her during her paralysis. He never plans on throwing it at anyone again and really wishes Katherine and Sarah would give it up.)

Nik: (carefully) It not… (He closes his eyes) Lucky…

Sara: Nikolas, I've seen what happens when he's around. He attacks you for no reason, he comes up with this complete strange accusations… he blames you for everything. And when you were in the hospital he was being really cold and distant. I don't know why Emily made him stick around.

Nik: Emily?

Sarah: Well… I mean… you know. She was always there, 'cause you're her friend. And Lucky's her boyfriend now. (Nikolas stares at her. Why didn't that occur to him. When he'd seen Lucky through the window, when he'd wondered what he was doing there… he'd even asked to see him… and it was all because Emily was worried. And wanted him there. He looks away from Sarah, feeling sick).

Nik: Won't change.

Sarah: Nikolas…

Nik: No. NO. (the words come out harsher than intended… Nikolas' frustration with himself has been leading to this, words coming out bitter when he doesn't mean them that way. He's just angry he's had to struggle for them so damn hard. And Sarah keeps stepping on his thought process, like this whole thing is pointing out the fact that they don't really know each other that well. She's always guessing his thought process incorrectly, putting words in his mouth. Katherine's been doing it too. In fact, the only person who he can communicate with minimally is his uncle… who understands what even his slightest gesture means, connects the dots easily and without effort. And this isn't something he can go to his uncle with. He glances over at Sarah, who is looking at him, eyes wide.)

Sarah: Nikolas… Please, let me help you? (Help with WHAT, Nikolas thinks bitterly. She's already helping too much. He closes his eyes, the image of Lucky, his brow knit, a look of consternation on his face, gazing through the window. What had that meant? If he was there just because Emily was worried, then... That changed everything. That made everything look different… Now what had been confusing was quickly clouding and becoming completely incomprehensible.)

Nik: (haltingly) Lucky. Won't change. (Sarah sighs and leans against him)

Sarah: Don't think about it! Just don't let him get to you. He's just jealous and angry and he's not helping you! (Nikolas shakes his head. Jealous and angry. Sounded like Lucky. And here he was, helpless, without words, less able to communicate than a two-year-old. And it got consistently worse when he got upset. His speech was twice as worse in this conversation than it had been. He presses his lips together hard. It was probably funny to him. It was probably something he took pleasure in, seeing him so diminished. It wasn't like Lucky had actually offered anything… in fact, all he'd done was insult him and let him know, yet again, that he didn't think Laura deserved to know what had happened. Nikolas feels his heart free fall into his stomach. God. He hadn't even been aware that he was hoping for something. Not until he'd felt it get smashed to pieces.)

Streets of Eyio, Greece.

Lucky walks back along the road to the hotel at an impressive clip. He can feel himself warring inside again. A part of him exhausted, hurt, on the edge of collapse, while another part, stronger, more virulent, pushes him on. This is what is getting him through, this is the energy he's using to move. To get forward. And he hates it. It's like a cancer that's eating him alive.

Hatred. Hatred, and more hurt than he'll ever admit to. How the hell can he care? How can he sit in his room and fret about how Nikolas was acting on the boat? Or how upset Nikolas seems since Hannah died, or ANY of it? And how did he let himself lie for him? Why couldn't he just turn this off? He doesn't want to care. He doesn't want to care at all. He wants to hate him, blindly and stupidly loathe him. It used to be easy. It didn't used to be this much work. But now he feels trapped… between hatred and… He doesn't even want to give the other emotion a name. It's the part the jerks him around, that won't release him. Won't let him walk away. Lets him make concessions, or gestures, has to be snapped back, and forced to listen.

He doesn't care about you. And even if he thinks he does, it's not because he wants to. It's HIS version of caring… a Cassadine version. This from a family that considered it love to pick someone up out of their life and hold them captive on an island. Cassadine “caring” was the reason he was here in the first place. It had gotten Hannah killed, it had hurt Emily, it had torn everything apart.

Lucky's speed increases as he turns down the street the hotel is located on, his insides raging. Hate him, they're instructing him. Just hate him, hate what he did to your family, hate him for using you, hate yourself for letting him… Hate that you lowered your guard, hate that you got burned for it, hate how much it still hurts.

Lucky stops at the door of the hotel, breathing hard. Hate him. It's just a simple request. And if it was possible, he would have let himself do it a long time ago… before it messed up everything in his life. God knows, he had reason enough.

Docks near Luke's.
January, 1998.

Lucky is walking along the section of docks down from the club with Foster. Foster is walking without benefit of leash, a detail Lucky has never really been into. The beast does what he's told for the most part and there is something that just feels fundamentally wrong about pulling him along after him. It unbalances the relationship. Lucky sighs, continuing along the docks and staring down at the ground. He's got three days now before he has to leave for Switzerland, and he's not looking forward to it. Nothing's changed since he bailed on his last trip, he's just doing this on his father's… Urging. He's still deep in thought on this topic when he hears a sound behind him.

Nik: Lucky. (Lucky stops and looks back. He sees Nikolas standing behind him, not even aware that he'd been there. He straightens up, snapping his fingers to signal that Foster is supposed to come to his side. The mastiff lumbers back to his mast and sits down at his feet, eyeing Nikolas with curiosity.)

Lucky: We meet again. (Nikolas takes a few steps towards him. This is getting borderline creepy. He never comes here, he was just trying to think. And then he'd turned around and spotted Lucky. He can't figure out if this is a coincidence, or something more planned. This bothers him.)

Nik: (frowning) What are you doing?

Lucky: What do you mean? (Nikolas gestures at him)

Nik: This. (Lucky looks at him oddly)

Lucky: (patronizing) Try to follow me here… Walking my dog. (Nikolas feels himself tense at the tone. He's so sick of this… He shakes his head).

Nik: What do you want? (Lucky's expression darkens, uncertain of what he's being accused of here. If he happens to be passing places that are Cassadine haunts more than usually, there is no way in hell he's going to admit it)

Lucky: That therapist is paying off, huh?

Nik: Answer.

Lucky: From what, Nikolas?

Nik: Me.

Lucky: You? What makes you think I want anything from you? (Nikolas just looks at him pointedly) You mean… When? At the hospital?

Nik: Any of this.

Lucky: Any of what? What are you talking about?

Nik: I'm not imagining this. Two years… you avoid me. You don't want anything to do with me. What do you want now?

Lucky: You're out of your mind.

Nik: Stop.

Lucky: Excuse me? Was that an order? Should I salute or something? Maybe we should nail this stuff down, huh?

Nik: Shut up. (Lucky steps back, a bit stung… much more than he was aware he could be. Nikolas shakes his head, aware that he didn't mean to say that. It was a gut reaction, just desperately not wanting to hear any more of this sarcasm, not wanting to listen to himself be mocked like this. He looks back at Lucky accusingly, his jaw tight.) What… is… going on.

Lucky: Breathe, Nikolas…

Nik: Don't.

Lucky: Don't WHAT? Look, you started this…

Nik: I started this?

Lucky: What is this? You can finally talk, so now…

Nik: I could always talk!

Lucky: Look, I don't know what your problem is, man, but…

Nik: You. (Lucky stops dead. He stares at Nikolas a moment)

Lucky: You want to explain that?

Nik: You… You're up… (He stops and exhales heavily. Slow down, he instructs himself. Think about what you're saying) What are you doing? Why are you around? Explain that.

Lucky: I don't understand what you're talking about…

Nik: Then LISTEN! Listen to me. (Nikolas closes his eyes, struggling. Every time he gets angry everything starts to get twisted around for him. He can feel himself begin to panic. Nothing feels clear. What is he trying to do? Why did he start this. His brain grabs onto the one thing that comes to mind). Emily…

Lucky: What about her?

Nik: LISTEN!

Lucky: Then start making SENSE! (Nikolas bristles. He's TRYING to make sense. He glares at Lucky, feeling a harsh sting of embarrassment.)

Nik: Get away…

Lucky: What?

Nik: (closing his eyes) Get away, leave me alone… Go.

Lucky: Hey, I'm just walking…

Nik: Then go some place else. (The sentence comes out with startling clarity, no hesitation. Nikolas sees something flash in Lucky's eyes. He stares at him a long moment, not looking away, as the words sink in. He nods slowly)

Lucky: No problem, man. Whatever you want. (He smiles at him, cocking his head to one side). Just don't get in my way. (Lucky turns and walks away, not looking back. Foster scrambles to his feet and follows. Nikolas watches after him a moment, breathing heavily. He feels his stomach constrict. God… What just happened?)

Hotel Room, Eyio, Greece.

Emily sits down on the bed, tucking her legs under her. Her head is still swimming a little. But they're packed. And time is ticking down at an alarming rate. She's beginning to worry. Worry a lot. Her anger and frustration is fading in favor of images of Lucky, some place, wracked with self-loathing and in pain… Feeling like he can't come to her, feeling alone… Suddenly she could cry on the spot.

God, it was painful to love him. She'd always questioned the phrase “I love you so much, it hurts”. Didn't sound like a good thing. And sometimes when she was with Lucky, she felt this deep ache in her, this overwhelming need to get closer to him, to hold him, to be held… But it wasn't like pain. In a way, it was an incredible feeling. When things were good, love didn't hurt at all. It filled up her up in ways she hadn't been able to imagine before him. It calmed her, soothed her, and the knowledge that it did the same for him meant more to her than she could verbalize.

What hurt was this. Distance. A feeling that, if he walked through the door right now, he'd still be a million miles away from her. The fact that what he was dealing with was still too cold and ugly for him to share with her…

The Ravine.
Late January, 1998

Lucky descends the small path, skidding slightly on the slick ice, and reaches the clearing first. He turns around, seeing Emily at the top of the hill, making her way carefully down to him.

Lucky: How's your footwear this time?

Em: (rolling her eyes) Better. If you weren't doing this speed demon thing.

Lucky: I have energy to burn. (Emily lets herself slide down the hill, stumbling only slightly when she hits the bottom. She looks up at him and smiles) You're getting better at that.

Em: Practice makes perfect. (Lucky nods slightly, looking up at the tangle of branches overhead, and the steep hill, now littered with clumps of snow, above him.)

Lucky: (distantly) What did that feel like?

Em: (coming up behind him) What?

Lucky: Falling from the sky.

Em: (sarcastically) Oh, it was a lot of fun. (Lucky glances over at her) I didn't do it on purpose. I just lost control.

Lucky: Yeah, I know how that feels. (The words hang a moment, then Lucky turns, heading towards the fallen log, a place Emily still considers “hers”.)

Em: (furrowing her brow) Did something happen?

Lucky: (leaping up onto the log, his mood aggressively upbeat) Nothing.

Em: (laughing, though nervous) What are you doing? (Lucky puts his arms out and starts walking along the length of the log)

Lucky: Don't sweat it. (He reaches the end of the log and spins, quickly, to face the other direction, nearly falling off the log.)

Em: (alarmed) Lucky! (Lucky falters a moment, then manages to regain his balance. He looks over at her and gives her his most charming smile, though it doesn't quite hide a look of injury in his eyes)

Lucky: See? Still in one piece.

Em: (a bit spooked) What is with you? (Lucky shrugs, walking back along the slick surface of the log)

Lucky: Just figured out I've been wasting my time.

Em: With Nikolas? (Lucky leaps off the log, landing on the ground in front of her).

Lucky: Come on.

Em: Where?

Lucky: (grabbing her hand and pulling her across the clearing) I don't know. Some place that isn't here.

Em: What's wrong with here?

Lucky: It's played. Come on. (Emily pulls her hand away from him, holding her ground)

Em: Lucky! (Lucky stops and sighs. He approaches her again and looks down at her, taking both her hands)

Lucky: (intently) You know I tell you everything, right?

Em: (quietly, gazing at him) Yeah. I know. (His mouth twitches slightly)

Lucky: Well, trust me... This story isn't even worth telling.

Em: What… (Lucky shakes his head firmly).

Lucky: (With forced lightness) I got confused, that's all. (He smiles unsteadily) It's over. I know exactly where I stand now.

Em: Where's that? (Lucky shrugs)

Lucky: Wherever I want. (He turns away from her, kicking a stone and heading towards the stream) Blood just messes everything up, you know that?

Em: (watching him, concerned) Blood? (Lucky stops at the stream, staring at the water still flowing under the thin layer of ice).

Lucky: All that stuff. You see someone bleed… Some people, they see that… doesn't matter who it is, they faint. (he turns back to her) How are you with the sight of blood?

Em: I've spent too much time in hospitals…

Lucky: Yeah. Well… Never bugged me. (he shrugs) People bleed. (He laughs slightly) You know, when I first moved here… I saw Sly's dad die, right in front of us. (Emily blinks)

Em: Wh… How?

Lucky: (very calm) He got shot. Did you ever see a picture of him? (Emily shakes her head solemnly) He looked like my Dad. Just like him. (He narrows his eyes at her) So that was bad, right?

Em: Yeah. I'd say so.

Lucky: 'Cause… I knew he died because someone thought he was my Dad. Otherwise… I mean, I'd feel bad for Sly, but…

Em: What are you saying?

Lucky: I can't get upset about this stuff! I can't get worried about some guy lying on the pavement in front of me.

Em: Why not? (Lucky looks at her, incredulous)

Lucky: Why not? Why SHOULD I? (Emily shivers involuntarily, unnerved by this) It's just some guy. Someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and you can't change that. It's how it works. It's not right, it's not wrong, it just is. Get it?

Em: (uncertain) I think so.

Lucky: If you get upset about everything you can't changed in the world, then you just spend your whole life stuck some place and one thing I know… you've always got to move. Otherwise, you end up on the pavement.

Em: Lucky… you don't live that way anymore, you stopped running… it's not the same thing.

Lucky: It doesn't change. (Emily stares at him a long moment, feeling herself go cold. Her mind returns, inevitably, to the afternoon of the day when she first told him how she felt about him. They'd been sitting on the dock by the boathouse and he'd told her that he would try not to leave. That hadn't changed. All she knew now was that this time, he promised to say goodbye)

Em: What's going on? Do you… Do you have to leave again. (Lucky looks up at the sky a long moment, then back to her)

Lucky: (matter of fact) No. Well… not besides Switzerland. (Emily nods. Topics she won't think about. This is number one… Lucky leaving again. She crosses her arms protectively)

Em: Then what is this about?

Lucky: (after a moment) Maybe it was Lulu.

Em: What do you mean? (Lucky looks over at her, and she catches her breath. There are tears gathering in his eyes)

Lucky: Maybe that's why I cared. Because his blood… (His voice cracks. Emily rushes to him, then stops a few feet away, not sure if she should go closer. She wants to hug him, hold him… But she's never seen him like this before, she's not certain what she should do)

Em: Is everything ok?

Lucky: Everything is… (He stops again. Emily stares at him, realizing he's going to cry. Her stomach begins to swirl. Lucky sighs, physically shaking off the mood descending on him. He smiles unsteadily). Nikolas Cassadine… He gets what he wants. Only thing that didn't work with was my mother. Everything else… It's his. Without fail. (His voice breaks again, an unmistakable tremor entering it) He wants me to stay out of his way. It's not worth my time. (He turns away sharply, keeping his back to her. Emily, completely confused, watches him a moment, then approaches, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turns back to her frustrated as tears start down his face. He doesn't acknowledge them, just laughs bitterly) This is a good thing. Everything's kinda crazy right now. The only thing that matters is my family. They need me, I'm not going to be messing around in any of this other stuff. (Emily closes the remaining distance between them)

Em: (quietly) Did he really say…

Lucky: Em! (The word comes out this side of desperate, communicating clearly that he doesn't want to have to explain what happened. Emily looks at him, at a loss, then slides her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly)

Em: I'm sorry. (Lucky closes his eyes, and melts into her, burying his face in her hair. Emily feels his body shaking slightly, but doesn't pull back. After a moment, Lucky speaks).

Lucky: Emily?

Em: What?

Lucky: I love you. (Emily squeezes her eyes shut tightly. While she knows he means it, there's a quality in his voice that suggests he really needs to hear it back. She pulls away to look up at him).

Em: (Intently) I love you. I really, really do. (She hugs him again. After a minute she speaks into his shoulder.) I'm going to miss you so much when you leave. (Lucky lets out a shaky breath.)

Lucky: It's just two weeks. Nothing's gonna happen.

Hotel Room, Eyio, Greece.

Nikolas stares hard at the floor, his hands clasped together, his index fingers extended and pressed against his lips.

If there was a decisions he wishes he could take back… If he could even call it a decision. He'd been angry. He'd been convinced Lucky was pulling something over on him… laughing at him, or using him… something! Something that made SENSE to him. It had been too dangerous… it STILL feels too dangerous, to just take a chance and wonder if Lucky was curious about him. If Lucky did care if he lived or died. And he couldn't talk

He's never known, not for certain, just what the final confrontation meant to Lucky. His clearest clue lies in Emily, telling him just a few weeks ago, that Lucky had tried… and Nikolas had hurt him. Nikolas presses his eyes shut. He doesn't want to think about it. The idea, the notion that he could hurt Lucky by rejecting him is dangerous in it's own right. In a twisted way, it's something he hopes is true. Is that why he's so angry? Does he lash out at him, does he vacillate between caustically friendly to brutally cold because he hates him? Or because he feels something.

Nikolas feels his breath catch in his throat and actual tears prick at the back of his eyes. God. He's so used to it, so accustomed to Lucky hating him. It's a constant in the universe. It's been true for as long as he's known Lucky and he knows, for absolute certain, that when he lets his mind rest on Lucky, on the idea of Lucky ever letting him in, ever caring about him, he gets flooded with such a powerful wave of emotions that he can feel the door of fantasy slam shut. It's too much. It's too much to admit that what Hannah said about Lucky… that he wanted something from him… is true of Nikolas too.

He wants something. He really wants something.

Nikolas bows his head, lacing his fingers on the back of his neck. It's all his fault. He did this. He must have. Nothing else makes sense. Nikolas chokes as the list of statements, from Hannah, Emily, Lulu… Even Lucky, flood back to him, refusing to let him push them away this time. Forcing him to listen.

“You never needed my protection, Nikolas. So don't ask me why you keep getting it.”

Nikolas sits up suddenly, assaulted by an image that has come on him, out of nowhere, more times than he can count. Something that he's never been able to shake, that shouts down the most persuasive of arguments. The look in his brother's eyes that night… The night he knew it was all over.

Port Charles Park.
February, 1998.

Nikolas is walking with Sarah through the Park, hand in hand. It's not nearly as cold as it should be, given the season, and Sarah has been anxious for them to start to act like a normal couple again. His speech frighteningly close to normal, if you forgive certain odd slips, Nikolas is feeling a lot more relaxed than he has in awhile. Sarah's finally accepted that he's not coming back to PCHS, and has made a habit out of visiting the island, striking up an alliance with Katherine… now embroiled in wedding plans. Overall, things are getting frighteningly close to normal… And his last letter from Laura announced that she was coming back to the states and would probably be back in Port Charles by the end of March. He gives Sarah's hand a squeeze.

Sarah: (looking over and smiling at him) It's nice, isn't it?

Nik: The weather… Or just being here?

Sarah: Both. (She stops, pulling on his hand so that he turns back to her). I'm glad you're better. I knew this would all work out. (She smiles at him happily). And I knew you'd fight this better than anyone else could… (Sarah stops, cut off by a high pitched shriek. She looks over in the direction the sound came from, and immediately starts after it). What was that? (Nikolas starts to answer that it was nothing, but Sarah is all ready taking off. Nikolas hears the squeal followed by a laugh and thinks to himself that this is nothing he wants to get involved with. He follows after his girlfriend)

Nik: Sarah… (He catches up with her just as she rounds a bush into a clearing. The second he comes around the corner, his heart constricts. Unbelievable. Lucky and Emily are having some sort of non-serious fight, Lucky holding something out of her reach. They're playing with each other, obviously, and Nikolas immediately puts a hand on Sarah's shoulder, wanting to pull her back. It's too late, however, as Emily turns and spots them)

Em: (breathless) Oh! (She steps back from Lucky quickly, trying to catch her breath) Sarah! Hi… (she glances at Nikolas quickly, then casts her eyes down) Nikolas. (Nikolas shifts uncomfortably and feels Sarah's hand tightening around his.)

Sarah: Hi. I'm… Surprised to see you guys here.

Lucky: (pulling Emily back towards him) Public park. I hear we fit into that description. (Emily lets herself be reeled in, Lucky pulling her against him and slipping his hands possessively around her waist. She feels like she's being held in front of him like some sort of shield. She leans back against him, her jaw tightening. She's feeling more than a little protective. This vibe is not lost on either Nikolas or Sarah. Sarah clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable) How are you? (After a moment, it becomes clear Lucky isn't going to acknowledge the question. Emily seems to paste a smile on her face very deliberately, his gaze still focused on Sarah, though she sneaks a quick and worried look at Nikolas)

Em: Fine. (after a moment) You?

Sarah: I haven't seen you at lunch lately.

Em: (brushing her hair back from her face) No. (Statement of fact, no explanation offered. Sarah looks over at Nikolas, but he is otherwise occupied. Lucky is staring at him… Not even. Studying him. Their eyes meet a moment, but Lucky doesn't seem to acknowledge it. He's looking at Nikolas like he's never seen him before, like he's some sort of curiosity, his eyes travelling over him unapologetically, searching… At the same time, he seems completely removed from the situation, not acknowledging it when Sarah notices the creepy way he's studying her boyfriend, or when Emily looks up at him. Emily, seeing the look on his face, seems to understand it, and puts her hands over his quickly).

Em: Lucky… (Nikolas furrows his brow as Lucky's eyes meet his again)

Nik: What? (Lucky holds Nikolas' gaze a moment, looking at him with complete detachment, a look that displays no emotion, or fear of emotion. Just a look of complete disinterest, as if Nikolas couldn't touch him, effect him, nothing. Nikolas feels himself go cold. He's never seen this look on Lucky's face before. Lucky turns away from him, appearing almost bored).

Lucky: (turning his attention to Emily) Come on. (He releases his grip on her and she turns to face him)

Em: (very quietly, inaudible to Nik or Sarah) Are you ok?

Lucky: (shrugging) Doesn't change anything. (He looks up at Sarah, now refusing to acknowledge Nikolas). Have a good one. (He takes Emily's hand and smiles down at her) Let's go.

Hotel Room, Eyio, Greece.

Emily stares back at the ceiling. She can hear footsteps coming down the hall through the paper-thin walls of the room. She closes her eyes, not wanting to face the idea that they might not be his. She swallows hard as they come to rest in front of the door.

The door opens and Emily doesn't move. She just waits. The inevitable slam, the words soaked in sarcasm… Something. It doesn't come. Instead, after several moments, she hear the door close quietly. She opens her eyes and struggles up on her elbows to see Lucky, looking slightly flushed. She can see a deep sadness and look of regret in his eyes. She can feel herself begin to sink, just from the look on his face. It's too familiar.

Lucky: Hey.

Em: Hey.

Lucky: Are you ok?

Em: (voice cracking) Are you? (Lucky flinches)

Lucky: I didn't… Want to do that. (Emily stands up, crossing to him).

Em: (softly, with an air of forgiveness) You look tired. (Lucky closes his eyes and pulls her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her. She was going easy on him, he knows that. He must look like a wreck. He sure as hell fells like it. He can feel her breathe against his neck, her soft and smooth skin against his. It's easy to mix this moment with a million others, if he didn't feel this churning in his gut.)

Lucky: (mumbling) I don't feel tired.

Em: How do you feel?

Lucky: Sick. (Emily looks at him a moment. She slides closer and wraps her arms around his waist. All of her animosity and anger melting away to nothing… She feels his heart, beating rapidly, against her. Deja vu, she thinks as his head comes to rest against her shoulder)

Em: (softly) We have to leave.

Lucky: I know.

Em: (pulling back) All right. I'll go tell Nikolas.