Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Four:
Daybreak

Guest Quarters, Cassadine Compound. Emily blinks, then squeezes her eyes shut blocking out the bright sunlight streaming in the window across the room and into her eyes. Oh, god… It's too bright. Her head screams in reaction, bringing forth visions of movie vampires bursting into flame and screeching in agony. Sun, she hates. Sun is the enemy. She wants it to go away.

Away from where? Emily eyes fly open, and her body rises from the bed, making it a quarter of the way towards sitting before sinking back into the mattress. Oh, sweet pain, what a friend I have found in thee, she thinks, putting a hand to her head and rolling protectively onto her good side. One constant, through this whole thing. She glances around, dizzily, letting her eyes travel as far as they can without actually moving her head. She's in a bedroom. With a roof and a bed and pillows… A canopy bed. She can see the shadow of a dark wood wardrobe in the corner, and there is an Oriental rug on the floor. The island. They made it.

Or Nikolas and Lucky made it and she got… What? Carried?

Emily cringes. She can't even bare to think about it. This was why she resisted all invites to complete consciousness. She knows she's been awake before this. She doesn't feel like she slept well. She can remember Lucky's hands, on her face, tracing her features, mopping her brow… She can remember him holding her, whispering things to her. She knows he was holding her. She knows he was trying to make her believe she hadn't let him down.

Nice try. It had been a really nice try.

Emily squeezes her eyes tightly. Not now. No room for self-pity. Besides, there are more pressing matters at hand. Like the fact that there is not one drop of moisture in her whole body. She feels like a dried out leaf.

There has to be water. If she's at the island, then she's in the Land Where Nikolas is Prince. There has to be water, unless she's been giving those stories of the undead too little credence. However, getting water, she's sure, requires moving and that is just not an appealing concept.

Emily rolls her tongue around the inside of her mouth and considers using her vocal chords. Lucky has to be here. He just… Has to be. She takes a laboring breath and tries out her voice.

Em: Lucky?

Oh, ouch. She makes a face. That really couldn't have sounded anymore whiny. And more so, she's not getting an answer. She frowns. This requires Investigation… Which again comes back to movement. Why does she ACHE like this? She must have gotten dehydrated or something. This must be what dehydration feels like. Only a bit worse, she realizes, remember the way she felt when she woke up from her overdose. God… Now that was discomfort. With sedatives. This is just discomfort. And still no sign of Lucky. Ok. That's it. She's going to have to investigate. Emily takes a deep breath and rolls over onto her back again, staring up at the canopy. Ok. Halfway there. She whimpers slightly and then rolls over onto her bad side, then onto her stomach, her head turned to face the other half of the room.

The first thing she notices is bed. Lots of it. An expanse, even. This is probably the biggest bed she's ever seen, and given her position, the effect is maximized. At the end of the sea of off white bed spread she spots Lucky. She blinks, her eyesight blurred a moment. He's asleep, shirtless and with his head lolled to one side. Em lets out a long breath. He always looks so beautiful when he's asleep, she thinks hazily. Odd that he's not in the bed… He's opted, for some reason, to sleep in an armchair beside the bed. Also odd that he's not wearing a shirt, she thinks, until she realizes it's because that is what she has on. She frowns, feeling oddly saddened by that. God… How could she have checked out on him at a time like this? Good one, Emily.

Emily considers calling out to him again, but, crawling a little across the mattress, she notes that Lucky is not just dozing. He's deep under, REM sleep… And he's got to need it. After taking a good ten minutes to assure herself that she has enough motor skills to make a move to the en suite bathroom she can see over the top of the chair. Besides, it's the least she can do.

Em sits on the edge of the bed for several moments, listening to Lucky's breathing and taking in her surroundings. The room is larger, larger than most of the hotel rooms she's been staying in, put together. The floor is mostly bare, dark hardwood, with large, looming pieces of furniture. There's a tall dresser across the room, and a dressing table in the corner. The whole room is bare of any personal effects, save a covered portrait in the corner. Emily frowns, looking at the frame. It makes her uneasy… A sign that they are somewhere different. She draws in her breath and decides to try her hand at walking.

Her weakened knees won't even let her stand and Emily finds herself sitting down, hard, on the bed again, the room jostling around her. She stops a moment, in dumbstruck shock at how little her body is willing to reason with her. She's done it again. If the fact that she doesn't remember how she got here wasn't enough, any denial about her physical state has just snapped. She feels her throat tighten up and her bottom lip trembles in childlike devastation. She's done it again. What talent.

Emily lefts herself slip off the bed and onto the floor, at Lucky's feet. What is she supposed to do, she thinks miserably, her jaw beginning to ache with the repressed tears she won't let herself spill. She wants to talk to Lucky, she wants to get a glass of water, and she wants a lot of things she doesn't feel like she can have. This is so typical of her. Stuck some place she doesn't want to be with no viable options.

She stares down at the hardwood floor, letting it blur in front of her. She stubbornly forces herself to remember just what is going on here… why she's here and how much she's been through. It's oddly calming, reminding herself that she's scaled roofs and drunk warm vodka in the name of all of this. She is holding her own, in her own weak, pathetic, needy way…

Cripes, Emily, she thinks, shutting her eyes. You just can't be easy on yourself for two seconds, can you? This is sick, sick behavior. You're addicted to self-belittlement.

Wonder where you picked that up?

She looks up at her sleeping boyfriend dolefully. Maybe it was something in the Port Charles water supply. Or just the fact that she knew Lucky well enough to understand how much he'd do for the people he cared about. How much of himself he was willing to subjugate for them. How do you love someone like that and not spend every waking moment trying NOT to be the person they have to give to? You don't. Instead, you continually wear yourself out trying to be absolutely perfect. Hmmm. How wonderfully insightful that you can recognize that Emily, she thinks dryly. Now maybe you can do something to stop it.

Emily leans forward, resting her head against Lucky's knee. There was no way, she thought sadly. She couldn't see anymore end to her insanity, than she could see to Lucky's. They were probably bad for each other, she thought for the first time. She couldn't guarantee anyone else would inspire this kind of behavior in her. At the same time, she just didn't care. No matter how many times this all went down, she just didn't care.

Emily closes her eyes, and lies still, her head against Lucky's leg. She lets her mind stop, refusing to think about anything more. She's not even sure how long she's been lying there when she feels Lucky stir. She raises her head, looking up at him. He looks unsettled, and she sits back as she hears a low short sound escape his lips. She watches him, her stomach tightening, as his breathing quickens, his body tensing. She is just about to reach out to try to wake him when his eyes fly open and he wakes with a start. He looks around, in a panic, until his reality settles on him and he sees Emily kneels at his feet, looking up at him. Ok… Strange image… After a moment, Lucky seems to get his bearings, running a hand through his hair. Emily smiles up at him, sadly. Lucky looks down at her through sleep-heavy eyes, like she's an optical illusion.

Lucky: Emily? (Emily gives him a nervous smile)

Em: Bad dream? (Lucky nods, trying to catch an illusive breath. He looks around, unsteadily)

Lucky: I… Uh, I was… (He shakes his head) Yeah. (Emily rests her head against his knee. She can feel a quake in his muscles. She's not sure she wants to know what was jut playing out in his head).

Em: You don't remember your dreams. (She feels Lucky's hand come down on the back of her head. His fingers thread through her hair, his thumb caressing the base of her skull)

Lucky: (hoarsely) What are you doing out of bed. (Emily has to think about that a moment. She had a reason for ending up here, didn't she?)

Em: I wanted some water.

Lucky: I could have gotten that for you.

Em: You were asleep. (she exhales) And I thought I was going to be sick. (She feels his hand come down on her hair) I wasn't.

Lucky: Good. (Lucky strokes her hair. Emily lets her eyes close, her arms wrapping around his leg)

Em: What happened? (It takes Lucky a moment to realize that she is referring to the previous day's events and not what he just went through. He feels a cold wave of relief at that, and shivers. He doesn't want to repeat what he just went through. He doesn't dream! He's always known, scientifically, that he must, but they weren't anything he was aware of. He couldn't how long it had been since he'd had an actual dream that had stuck with him. A couple of years, probably. If he was feeling unsettled in sleep then it was because of something his conscious mind was well aware of, and it never ever came to him in any other form but blunt fact. He woke up in the middle of the night with his stomach in knots all the time, but it was never because of a dream. It was always because his conscience didn't like sleep. It preferred to use the lack of daylight to harass him. But that had been a dream. Bordering on out and out nightmare. Though given his location… Maybe that wasn't anything to put any importance on. Besides. He wasn't going to be worrying about stupid anxiety dreams when he had real life anxiety to contend with. He slides his hand out of Emily's hair and moves it under her chin, tipping her face up to look at him. Emily raises her head, her eyes filled with shame. Lucky cringes internally.)

Lucky: (gently) Hi. (Emily gives another small smile)

Em: Hi.

Lucky: (after a moment) You look beautiful when you're conscious. (Emily gives a slight, embarrassed laugh, and looks away)

Em: Yeah, well… I've heard it's the hot new look for spring.

Lucky: Might as well try something different. (Emily's expression crumples at that remark and her head slumps down against Lucky's leg again)

Em: (muffled) I'm sorry, Lucky, I'm so sorry… (She's cut off by Lucky moving in the chair. She sits back on the floor, eyes cast down. His hand closes around hers and she looks up at him. He smiles at her. It's weak, but big points for effort. She lets him move his hands under her arms and lift her back onto the bed. Somehow, in the creepy wordless way they've developed, they manage to move together back onto the bed, Emily ending up enclosed in Lucky's arms, her weight resting partly on him, partly on her good side, head on his chest. She lets herself melt against him, the physical pain she's in melting away with the feeling of his warm smooth skin against her cheek. She lets out a sigh of deep contentment, and wraps a possessive arm around him. She opens her eyes and, looking down to the foot of the bed, notices he's still wearing his shoes. She laughs nervously)

Em: Are you planning on staying? (Lucky takes a moment to digest that, then sighs, leaning back against the pillows)

Lucky: Some things just take too much effort. (Emily 'mmm's in response.) Did you get your water? (She shakes her head, still looking down the bed. Lucky moves beside her and she looks up to see him reaching over to the bedside table, and picking up a nearly empty pitcher that is resting there on a silver tray. He pours the remaining water into a glass and Emily raises herself up, painfully, on one arm, drawing her knees up. Lucky picks up the glass and moves it to her lips. Emily put one hand around it, but Lucky doesn't let it go, bringing it to her lips) Drink. (Emily closes her eyes, and swallows down the water, thinking that, even if she didn't want it more than anything, she wouldn't have much choice in the matter. She tips her head back, draining the glass, then opens her eyes as Lucky pulls it away from her, seeing the room dim around her. She feels immediately dizzy and puts her hand to her forehead. Lucky, having replaced the glass on the tray, turns his attention back to her, and seeing the look on her face, sits up, his hand closing around her wrist.) Em? (Emily shakes her head, and leans her body forward against him. His other arm wraps around her waist, and after a moment, he lies back down, with her secured in his arms again.)

Em: (thickly) Head rush.

Lucky: Yeah, I understand. (Emily moans slightly and burrows closer to him. Lucky tightens his grip on her. He's feeling fiercely protective and he knows the dream is to blame. That and everything else… She's not healed. One night's rest, no matter how deep, was not going to heal her. She needed so much more time. In the end, probably months of quiet, of nothing but strainless, calm, living. He has found his mind wandering as he'd sat up with her last night, mopping her brow, making sure she was drinking… He'd thought of all the other places he could have taken her after she could function again. They could have gone further north, some place with water and no people. It was Canada, for God's sake. Everyone in that country lived in concentrated pockets right along the border. Go north a few hours and there was no one. It would have been so easy to do. But no. He had to go to New York to help his brother…

Lucky stifles a groan. The idea of blaming any of this on Nikolas is too exhausting. It would take too many brain gymnastics to honestly convince himself that he has a real choice. He did the only thing there really was for him to do. And it was for Emily's safety as much as any other reason. So why did he feel so horrible?

That part was easy. Same sickly feeling he gets every time he sees Emily on the brink. It had been going on a long time now, but not so long that he couldn't remember that she hadn't ALWAYS been that way. It wasn't until after everything fell apart. After he destroyed any trust that existed between them. And he knew she trusted him now. She'd said it over and over again. It was just hard to believe when he watched her do this to herself. If she trusted him so much, why couldn't she let him take care of her?

Lucky takes a deep breath, pushing these thoughts from his head. Unfortunately no others are rushing to take their place. He's tired, but there is no way in hell he's trying that sleep thing again. And leaving the room isn't exactly recommending itself either. He doesn't want to deal with Nikolas at all. The actual house, even less. He wishes he could feel something else besides this heavy, dragged down, feeling that's invaded him. He's feeling useless… God, he's never felt that way in his entire life.

It's the dream. It has to be. He just can't shake it. Maybe if he was used to metaphorical subconscious ramblings, the sensation of doom he'd waken up with would have abated… Maybe. He shakes his head, in a sudden spastic motion, trying to rid the lingering images. Emily looks up at him, frowning in concern.

Em: You're being quiet.

Lucky: What is there to say?

Em: "You're being stupid, Em. Don't do that again".

Lucky: (heavily) I'm not really in the position to tell anyone to stop self- destructing.

Em: I'm not self-destructing! I'm just trying to keep up. (Lucky closes his eyes, feeling a sharp pang of regret. He lowers his head and kisses her temple)

Lucky: You're ok. That's all I care about. (Emily frowns. There is something unnerving about this… like Lucky is accepting the fact that she has this… Personality quirk There is no sign of resistance, residual anxiety, just fatalistic acceptance. That is so… Not Lucky. God, she thinks. I finally did it. I broke him)

Em: Lucky?

Lucky: Yeah.

Em: Did I miss anything? While I was out… Did anything happen? (Long silence. Emily looks up to see Lucky staring off into space) Lucky.

Lucky: (exhaling) I don't know. I think I missed something.

Em: Are you ok?

Lucky: (distant) Yeah… (He blinks) Yeah. Of course.

Em: (wryly) Of course. (shifting in his arms) Lucky? (Lucky closes his eyes and exhales)

Lucky: Yeah?

Em: Are you going to tell me what happened?

Lucky: (after a moment, in monotone) That pill you took. It had a side effect. You got heat stroke. The pill made it hard for you to fight off the heat and you just… Accumulated it.

Em: What did… What did I do?

Lucky: (softly) You did your best. (Emily, who had really begun to think she could get through this conversation without crying, feels tears spring to her eyes. She tightens her grip on Lucky)

Em: (Tightly) I really did try to…

Lucky: Shh (He runs his hand down her spine. Emily closes her eyes) It wasn't like you had choice, Em. This isn't anything you did. (Emily chokes on a bitter laugh)

Em: Helena.

Lucky: Yeah. Helena. (Emily presses her lips together, then lifts herself up on her arms, looking down at Lucky)

Em: So how did I get here?

Lucky: That would be Nikolas.

Em: Oh. (She frowns) Oh.

Lucky: He really pulled out all the stops. You would have been impressed.

Em: Were you?

Lucky: (focusing on a strand of her hair) What?

Em: Impressed. (Lucky takes the strand between his fingers, narrowing his eyes)

Lucky: You know what I'm really impressed with? (He looks up at her) Indoor plumbing. (Emily smiles, letting her head drop)

Em: It hasn't been that long.

Lucky: Long enough. (She sighs and falls back against him, sliding her arms around his waist and laying her head on his abdomen. She feels Lucky's hand on the back of her head) How are you doing? (Emily makes a face)

Em: I've been better. (Pause. She feels her throat close on her.) I've been worse. (Emily's voice cracks. Lucky pulls her closer)

Lucky: (gently) Hey. Hey, come on. (Emily exhales and looks up to meet his eyes)

Em: (shakily) I'm trying really hard not to be angry with myself for this…

Lucky: Just don't be. Ok? None of it matters. None of it. Just… Just let yourself get better. (He closes his eyes) And don't do this to me again. (the sentence comes out without Lucky deciding to say it. He feels Emily tense in his arms and is about to start trying to reel that statement back in when there is a sharp knock at the door. Emily starts)

Em: (sitting up) Who's that?

Lucky: (flat) Nikolas. (Lucky looks down at his watch, having not idea how he feels about this interruption.) Guess our time is up. (Lucky shifts on the bed and Emily moves away from him, curling herself up against the headboard. She grabs a throw that was lying on the covers… something she was probably sleeping under… and wraps it around her protectively. Somehow she just doesn't trust what might be on the other side of that door. Meanwhile, Lucky gets up dutifully and heads towards the door, only to have it boldly opened as he hits the halfway point. Lucky stops dead at the sight of a small, thin young girl standing in the doorway with a large, heavily laden, silver tray. She looks like she just got caught in some one's headlights. A deep blush creeps up her neck and she looks down at the ground. Lucky is about to say something when he sees the figure behind her. Josef steps forward putting his hand on his sister's shoulder and saying something softly to her in Greek. She ducks her head and moves quickly into the room.

Mariah: Sir. (she moves with tunnel vision to the side table by the bed. Lucky looks over at her, then back at the man in front of him. He catches the look of deep scrutiny Josef is giving him, but Josef just smiles easily once he realizes he's regained Lucky's attention, and pulls back from his study of the prince's brother.)

Josef: Mr. Spencer.

Lucky: (statement of fact) You're Josef.

Josef: My reputation proceeds me.

Lucky: No. You were driving the helicopter. (Josef nods)

Josef: So I was. I did not realize you were aware of my presence. (Lucky feels his jaw tightens at the statement. He forces himself not to respond. Instead he looks Josef up and down, with a complete lack of apology. He looks back up and meets the man's dark eyes. Cold, he decides and much more reserved than he's letting on. Lucky gives a smile that he's aware borders on a smirk.)

Lucky: I'm aware of a lot of things.

Josef: (after a moment, still looking at Lucky) Mrs. Spencer. (Emily, her attention focused on Mariah who is busily pouring juice and arranging dishes, takes a moment to absorb the name. Then she feels herself go immediately cold and she turns to look at Josef, with obvious panic. She is just about to say "where?" when she sees the look on Lucky's face. Oh. Right.)

Em: Oh! Um… Uh… Yes? (Emily's insides cringe on her behalf. Good one. She very nearly blew that right out of the water. Josef just smiles at her, taking a few steps past Lucky to stand at the foot of the bed.)

Josef: The prince was explicit in his instructions that you are to be pampered. Do not hesitate to ask for anything you may require. You'd be surprised what we can orchestrate with our given resources.

Lucky: (dryly) Stunned. (a moment's silence. Mariah looks up in bewilderment. She is greeted once again by Lucky's quasi-state of undress and looks back down again, blushing again. Emily notes this and tries not to laugh. Oh, God, this is weird)

Josef: Is there anything else I can get you? (Emily meets his gaze, purposely avoiding Lucky.)

Em: No. Not at this moment. That's very generous, though.

Josef: (amused) Very well. But you'll have to keep me informed. I have a job to do after all. (Lucky looks away, coughing slightly. God, he HATES it when people talk to Emily like that. Especially in front of him. Usually teachers, waiter, sales people. He feels immediately possessive and crosses his arms in an effort to not just reach out and grab this guy. He knew he was going to hate it here).

Lucky: We're fine.

Josef: (Continuing, to Emily, as Mariah hands her a glass of juice) There have been measures already taken. This room was not prepared for your arrival, I'm afraid. We have a room across the hall that will be more fitting. I'm sure you'll be comfortable there.

Lucky: Here is fine. (Lucky glances back over his shoulder. Nikolas could show himself any time…)

Josef: The room has southern exposure, a view of the sea…

Lucky: It's an island. Don't they all have views of the sea?

Josef: (stops a moment) More importantly, there are towels, toiletries, other comforts… And I have had several items of clothing put into the wardrobe…

Lucky: We have clothes. (Josef casts a look back at him)

Josef: Really.

Lucky: Yeah, really. In fact… there were bags.

Josef: The staff is tending to them. (Lucky's head jerks back in a quick motion, and he then stops himself again. Nikolas. He HAS to find Nikolas. Any reasons for letting him out of his ) And… The clothes we had available are more… Appropriate. (Lucky just stares at him) For the climate.

Lucky: Right. Climate. (Emily clears her throat)

Em: I'm sure it's perfect. Thank you.

Lucky: (ice cold) Where could I find my brother. You know. The Prince?

Josef: he's not available right now. He told me to inform you he will meet you on the south terrace after he has attended to his duties on the island.

Lucky: Was there a time on that. (Josef turns to Lucky)

Josef: Mr. Spencer… Is there anything I can get you? For instance, if we can have the kitchen prepare you something more substantial for breakfast…

Lucky: I said I was fine. Can you answer the question?

Josef: He will be with you at his early possible convenience. (Lucky stares at him, the picture of cool detachment.)

Lucky: (voice low) Thank you. That will be all.

Josef: Happy to be of service. Mariah! (Mariah nods to Emily and gives a weak smile, then tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and makes a beeline for the door. Lucky looks after her, then turns back to Josef, expectantly. Josef nods, looks back at Emily and smiles again) Enjoy your breakfast, Mrs. Spencer. (He turns, not meeting Lucky's eyes again, and leaves the room, closing the door after him. Lucky turns and stares at the door. After several moments, he hears Emily's juice glass come down on the tray)

Em: That was…

Lucky: Creepy.

Em: I was going to say… Strange. Maybe even absurd. (Lucky doesn't look back at her) Your Spencer Sense is tingling again, isn't it? (Lucky turns back to her, frowning)

Lucky: If you know that, then why do you look so relaxed?

Em: Lucky… It's the Cassadine Compound. Don't you think that might cloud the issue a little?

Lucky: With that guy? No. I think I'd hate him pretty much anywhere.

Em: (biting her lip, looking past Lucky at the closed door) He's kinda… Smooth.

Lucky: So was Ted Bundy.

Em: (vexed) I didn't say that it was a good thing. I just said… (Emily cuts herself off, and sighs) Come here. (Lucky raises his brow, but Emily just stares back at him. He dutifully crosses back to her.)

Lucky: Yes? (Emily reaches up, taking his face in her hands. Lucky, realizing what he's doing, leans forward, bracing his arms on the headboard, and lowers himself down to her as she leads his lips to hers. She kisses him softly, then kisses him again until she feels him sag slightly, before catching himself from sinking down onto the bed with her. Emily pulls back and looks at him. Lucky keeps his eyes closed a long moment, his lips slightly parted.) Em…

Em: I have a point.

Lucky: (opening his eyes) This is how you're making it?

Em: You're not entirely alone here. And this… Stuff? It's not forever. (Lucky stares down at her)

Lucky: (a bit shaky) You can't disappear on me again, Em. Ok?

Em: I won't. I promise. (Lucky exhales, then vaults over her, landing on the mattress beside her.

Lucky: Good. ( Emily laughs slightly, then moves to him, curling up against his chest again) I'm not getting out of this without you.

A Country House, the middle of nowhere.

A thin woman, just cresting middle age, kneels in a vegetable garden, digging out stones with a trowel. Her hair is back in a babushka and she swears softly to herself in Russian as her bony fingers work at the cold earth. A shadow falls over her and she starts, looking up, her jaw slack. It takes her a moment to recognize the figure backlit against the early morning sun. She blinks.

Katija: My lord in heaven… (She sits back on her knees) I prayed to God I would never lay eyes on you again.

Laura: Hello, Katija.