Chapter One Hundred Eighty-One:
Home Stretch

The Spring

The sound of the spring is hypnotic and Lucky's certain he's been here longer than he thinks he has. He doesn't have a watch. Rather he DOES have a watch, but the leather was bothering him what with the perspiration of walking so far in this heat and he put it in his bag. Which is on the other side of the stream. And he'd have to disturb Emily, lay her down on this rocky, hard, uninviting ground, and move on legs that have been asleep for HOURS now to get it. And that is just too much trouble for time.

She's still with him, though. She's still breathing, she's still hot as hell, and she's still out. He lifts a tired hand to her forehead. She feels only slightly less warm than she did earlier, though her breathing isn't as labored. Granted, She could feel hotter and he's just used to it because she's been lying here with her against him for so long.

He wishes she'd wake up for the three millionth time sine she passed out. She'd stirred about… Oh, who knows how long ago. Long enough that it now seems like he might not have really seen it. He might have made it up. How does he know for sure he didn't? I mean, really… If you think about it… and he's had nothing to do over the past few hours BUT think… no one who's had the month he has should still be completely lucid. If he HAS lost his mind… Or at the very least, if he is in the process of losing it, then who could really blame him?

Right. Lost his mind… His mind wouldn't do him that kind of favor. He'd spent the last two years telling it to get lost and it stubbornly stuck around to torture him. Drove him to do stupid things like help Carly, work for Jason, talk him out of seeing Lulu… And take that damn sleeping pill…

Lucky frowns, tightening his grip on Emily. Stop thinking! He's been commanding himself to do this for hours. But it's not working. He hasn't been able to access calm since Nikolas brought him back to the land of the living, and that was really the kind of favor he could live without.

Especially in light of all that stuff he'd said just before he'd left.

That… None of that… Was bothering him particularly. Mostly he is bothered by the fact that it doesn't bother him. That it made sense. That God help him… He believed it.

Lucky resists the urge to squirm at that realization. What are you trying to do to yourself, Spencer? He doesn't want to think about it. Any time his mind started to wander in that direction he shut it down quickly. But never so quickly that some thought didn't seep through without permission. You don't care, he told himself. You really don't care. What you care about is lying here, in your arms, unconscious and that is what you have to concentrate on. Nothing else.

Nothing else.

Lucky pulls Emily up against his chest, adjusting their position. Her head rolls with the movement, as limp and powerless as a rag doll. Her face presses against the slick skin of his neck. Lucky cups the back of her head with his hand and closed his eyes, concentrating on the beat of her heart, the soft breath on his neck. He had to stop and remind himself, every time he moved her, that she was still there. She was just… Not quite with him yet.

He runs his hand over her hair a few times, smoothing it. It was getting hopelessly tangled with all of his. She's going to be frustrated with it when she wakes up. He hoped they had conditioner on the island.

Ok. And now he was really losing it. This was the Cassadine Island. Where his mother had been held captive for years. Where Mikkos Cassadine had tried to control the world's weather. Where any number of evil plans had been hatched. Evil. His father never really talked about things in those terms, but he did when he talked about Cassadines. All that was bad.

Oh, great. And now Luke makes an appearance. Is there anything… ANYTHING… that he can consider that isn't going to make him feel queasy? He wishes, mildly, that he'd taken more interest in pro sports. Then he could wonder about who was winning the… Ok, someone must be playing for something right now. It was April. But what sport and how far along they'd be… Somehow he'd missed that entirely. The last time he'd picked up a paper, it had been to make sure Edward Q. hadn't gotten his picture plastered all over it.

Lucky shakes his head, trying to bring his thoughts back to Emily. The one topic his brain won't focus on. He keeps coming up against a wall. He just doesn't want to consider what could be going on here any more than he has to.

But he has to. It's the only thing to do. Remembering something Amy had shown him back when Lulu was sick, Lucky puts the inside of his wrist against her head. She's still pretty warm. He reaches over and picks up the cloth. It's a bit dirty from having been on the ground, and it's not nearly as cold as he wants it to be. He's run out of water some time ago. He just hates the idea of letting Emily's body fall too the ground. He hates the way she looks, lying there like that. Like she was at the top of the hill, or that night in the parking lot.

So don't look at her.

Lucky grits his teeth and steels himself. He carefully moves Emily's body away from him and lies her, gently, on the ground. He stands up carefully, his legs protesting. He moves, painfully to the spring, and refills the canteen. He drinks from it, started by how thirsty he is. He nearly empties it, then refills. He proceeds to rinse out the cloth in the water, then turns back to Emily. He forces himself not to absorb the sight of her prone position. Lucky carefully manages to gather her up in his arms again, though the position is a little more awkward, her legs draped over his lap, her back supported by his arms. Her head falls against his shoulder again. Lucky sighs, leaning back against the rock. He puts the cold rag to her forehead again. Since he didn't bother to wring the cloth out, the water runs in tiny rivers down Emily's face, under her chin, and down the front of her shirt. She lets out a very soft, barely audible, sound of protest. Lucky freezes.

Lucky: Em? (nothing.) Emily… (Nope. Lucky lets out a long sigh and turns his head so that his cheek is pressed against her. He speaks quietly) Emily. You have to stop messing with me like this. It's not fair. You'd kill me if I was doing this to you. (He lowers his head and kisses her shoulder) You gotta be tired. I know… I'm feeling that way too. I think I reached the end of my rope about four hours ago. Except I don't know, because I keep forgetting to check the time… (he sighs) I'm babbling. You're supposed to make me stop. What can I say, Em? Come on… Give me a sign, ok? Anything? Just tell me what the magic words are. (No sign of movement. Lucky sits back and looks at her, holding his breath. Some part of him really believes she's going to smile, or finally open her eyes and just look at him like he's crazy. Nothing happens. As the seconds tick by, Lucky's mood crashes, finally snapping. His jaw tightens) Emily, come on! (the frustration in his voice is unmistakable) You can't do this to me! (He squeezes his eyes shut) Oh, God, what am I talking about? (He pulls her closer to him, burying his face in her hair. He whispers into her ear fiercely) Come on, please. Please, just tell me what to do. I'll do anything for you. Anything, Emily… Please just stop this. Wake up. You can't do this to me again. You can't disappear. You can't just leave. I'm not going to let you. (he chokes, running out of words. He takes a breath, aware that he's beginning to shake) Can we stop doing this to each other? Really… If you have to keep going down like this, couldn't you start spreading them out a little bit? (He straightens up a bit, and looks down at her. She looks so bad. Abused. Like she's been to hell and back. Her breathing is harder. He's sure of it. Something is going on. He swallows hard) God, Em… (A tremor, some sort of spasm or something, seems to bubble up from the core of her, and her body jerks in response. Lucky's arms tighten around her, tears immediately coming to his eyes) No. Come on, no. (Emily's body jerks again, and suddenly he can feel her move… not by accident, a purposeful movement, trying to turn his arms. She sucks a deep breath into her lungs and coughs, almost convulsively, her body pulling any air she tries to expel back into her like a hiccup. For a moment, Lucky is in complete shock, uncertain of what is happening. It's not a seizure, his brain finally grasps that fact, and he pulls her up in his arms.) Emily? Em… (Emily shakes her head, still coughing, and wrenches around in his arms. Lucky realizes what is happening, and helps her turn, in his arms, pulling her hair back. She's going to be sick. Her coughs start to sound more like dry heaving, and he holds her firmly as her body tries to expel food or water that just isn't there. It takes several moments for the sickness to subside and when it does, Emily's body slackens in his arms, in absolute exhaustion. Lucky pulls her back to him, and she slides down in his arms, whimpering as she turns her face against his chest. He feels her hand grip his wrist, and she tries to bury herself against him. He gently pulls her hair back from her face. She's flushed, bright red with exertion, and tears are streaming down her face. She still feels too warm. He pours some water onto the cloth, and places it against her neck. She jumps at the touch of it, but doesn't say anything. Lucky quickly wipes the tears, bile, and perspiration from her face. Emily doesn't open her eyes. He picks up the canteen, noticing that his own heart is racing, matching the strong beat of her heart. He brings the canteen up to her lips and brushes the metal against them.) Emily. Em, come on. Drink. (Emily moans. Lucky roughly pulls her up into something closer to a sitting position. )

Em: (barely recognizable as English) mmm… no… (Lucky ignores her, pressing the canteen against her mouth again, tipping her head back. Emily seems to come to a little more and figure out what he's trying to get her to do. He tips the canteen and she opens her mouth, doing her best to swallow the water he's pouring into her mouth. She gets down a bit, then sputters, turning her head against Lucky's chest, the water spilling down her, soaking her shirt. Lucky pulls the canteen back, and caps it. He stops and takes a breath. Ok. Something just happened here. Something… That might not be entirely bad. He pulls her up to him, kissing her temple. Emily lets out a breath in response.)

Lucky: Emily? Baby… I will give you a million dollars if you just count to three. And you know that's not an empty promise. I can do that. (there's a long pause. Emily makes a small sound, then takes a deep breath).

Em: One… (Her voice trails off. Lucky feels her body go slack in his arms again. He waits, but nothing comes. She's out again. He smoothes her hair back and kisses her forehead.)

Lucky: Good enough.

The path.

The house stands tall on the hill. Even after all these years it looks just as Nikolas remembers it. Sandy off-white stucco, perched high up on the cliff, a rickety wooded staircase leading up from the dock to the first landing where they would board the waiting car for trips… And then three consecutive flights leading up to the front door of the house. He's here. He made it, just like he promised he would.

Now what?

This is the part that must have been driving Lucky particularly mental. He didn't like the sound of this place. He didn't trust this world. Why would he? He didn't know it. But for a long time, it had been the only world Nikolas had understood. And he knew he'd slip back into it without effort.

He'll check out the dock first. The house last. That seemed the best way to proceed. And a part of him suspected that was what Lucky would chose to do. Emily said he liked to know his surroundings. Well. Nikolas knew this place. But he should make sure there weren't any surprised.

Nikolas starts along the thin and winding path that leads down towards the water. He walks carefully, trying his best not to draw attention to himself. Not that he's seen anyone who would notice him. Bird calls, that's all he's heard. He moves stealthily, all the same. Once half way down the path he notices a long figure on the docks, winding a rope around his arm. A new dock master, most likely. Someone young. He doesn't care to be noticed, so he turns and starts up the hill. Just as he begins to ascend, he hears a voice call out to him.

Josef: Nikolas. (Nikolas stops, recognizing the intonation more than the voice. Josef. He closes his eyes and silently thanks God. One thing, finally… Finally something has gone his way. He pushes down his relief, runs his hand through his hair, and turns back. Not the picture of the prince, but if he had to face anyone in this condition, best it be Josef. He turns back, narrowing his eyes against the sun, then takes a step towards the man. He walks slowly down the remainder of the hill, as if he is not in any particular hurry. Josef, in turn, drops his rope and moves down the dock. They meet at the end of the dock. Nikolas nods.)

Nikolas: Josef. (There is a long silence as they take each other in. It's been years, after all. Nikolas was fifteen the last time he saw Josef. They haven't so much as spoken in all that time. His eyes, Nikolas recognizes. The same with the wave dark as night hair. But his build, his height… This is all knew. Josef studies him with equal scrutiny and Nikolas is aware that the state he's in will raise questions that Josef won't voice. He's curious though. That much Nikolas can read from his face. Finally, Josef cracks a smile.).

Josef: I've been expecting you. (Nikolas smiles slightly in return)

Nik: You have, huh?

Josef: (grinning) "Huh?" (Nikolas rolls his eyes in mild apology.)

Nik: (in Greek, as is the rest of the conversation) I've been assimilated. How did you know I was coming?

Josef: Your uncle. He visited my father a few night ago. They spoke in private, but it was clear what the problem was. (He leans forward) You're dismissing your regent? (Nikolas resists the urge to flinch. The words hit him harder than he expected)

Nik: (evenly) For the time being. (Josef becomes immediately serious)

Josef: I suspected. He forgets his place.

Nik: (tinged with irony) Something you could never be accused of.

Josef: You wound me. (Another slightly smile. Josef tips his chin up) This puts my father in a questionable position. (Nikolas, aware of this, crosses his arms, and looks at Josef severely)

Nik: How so?

Josef: Perhaps it is more difficult for me to understand. The only overseer I've ever sworn loyalty to is you. Not your father. And not the regent. (There is a subtle twist to the word, which Nikolas ignores. Josef has always had very strict ideas about loyalty and servitude.) But for my father it comes down to what YOUR father would have wanted.

Nik: And you think that is for me to continue to live under the thumb of the brother he barely tolerated? (Josef raises his eyebrows in surprise)

Josef: Brushed up on family history, have you? (Nikolas tenses, visibly)

Nik: (coldly) I've grown up, Josef. I know what I need to know. Stefan has served his purpose.

Josef: Stefan. I never thought I'd hear you call him anything but "uncle".

Nik: I will always treat him with the respect his position merits. But I know I can speak frankly with you. And he has abused his position. I intend to release his hold over me in ALL matters as soon as I have reinstated myself in my TRUE home.

Josef: The glamour of the Americas has faded, has it?

Nik: All that glitters is not gold. And more it's the glamour my uncle cast over my family history that is tainted. America is of no matter to me. (There is a long pause, then Josef smiles again. Nikolas feels a small triumph. He doesn't want to pull Josef into the true nature of this enterprise. And he's always known that Josef respected, above all else, strength in leadership. And for reasons he's never understood, Stefan has always rubbed him the wrong way. I am a Cassadine, Nikolas thinks in the back of his mind. To a terrifying degree, sometimes).

Josef: Another coup. How ridiculous it must be orchestrated by the rightful heir.

Nik: Come on, Josef. You always believed I should have had to fight for all I had. You're going to enjoy this, aren't you?

Josef: (in English again) I love the smell of treachery in the morning. (Nikolas looks at him oddly, then laughs)

Nik: You've done some assimilating yourself.

Josef: I've been abroad.

Nik: And you returned… (He looks at the fallen rope) To master the docks?

Josef: To head security. Now I do that… And attend to all other matters of the island. My father… He's become distracted by family business concerns. I really see no need to… Alert him to any of this.

Nik: You sound as if you are about to suggest something.

Josef: I have my curiosities. But… We're allies, you and I. I think I've proven many times where my loyalties lie. You know I am with you.

Nik: I was certain you wouldn't question my decision, I admit.

Josef: Regencies become increasingly tricky as time goes one, especially if they last as long as yours is intended. Until you know who else is…

Nik: I agree. (Nikolas looks out at the water, then back at Josef. Though no one is around he lowers his voice) And since you are "with me", there is something else we have to discus.

Josef: I'm at your disposal.

Nik: I'm not travelling alone.

Josef: Ah… I see.

Nik: It's not what you think. I suppose you're aware… I had a brother and sister in America. (Josef nods)

Josef: I had heard about the brother. He was described as… Problematic.

Nik: (ruefully) He is. (Nikolas looks back at him) But not in any way that is threatening. He's in trouble… We've been trying to get here without alerting my uncle… the reasons for which, I'm keeping to myself. (there is a slight pause)

Josef: (quietly) Yes, sir.

Nik: The point is this. My brother will be staying on the island along with his wife. His wife has been through a trying physical ordeal. In our attempts to get here without benefit of the Cassadine holdings… She was hurt. Badly.

Josef: What do you want me to do? (The statement is an invitation for orders. Nikolas straightens up)

Nik: She's on the path. That was how we were forced to get here. She's collapsed… from heat stroke, mostly likely…

Josef: And we need to get her to a doctor.

Nik: Is Dr. Lyserius still in Rhesus?

Josef: Of course. The helicopter is on the island. It's fuelled… I'd planned a trip into Rhesus in the morning for supplies. (He cocks his head to one side) Like a said, I was expecting you.

Nik: Helicopter. I'd forgotten… (He gives a slight smile) I've been living "helicopter free" in America.

Josef: It's the only way. Where is she?

Nik: The Spring.

Josef: (Nodding) Good, we can pick up the doctor, then make a landing on the hill and transport her back here.

Nik: It would be better to make the landing and bring the doctor here separately. Can you manage that?

Josef: (slowly) Certainly. (Nikolas shakes his head, exhaling)

Nik: My brother is unpredictable. I don't want to leave him alone any longer than I have to.

Josef: Whatever you wish. (He meets his eyes) My prince. I am here to serve you.

Nik: I knew you would be.