Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Eight:
At Your Own Risk

The Study, Cassadine Compound

Silence has descended, unapologetic with no sign of dissipating. Lucky is still sitting in the chair, his eyes idly following the pattern in the oriental carpet on the floor. They should be talking, he thinks heavily. All this time and never have they spelled out any sort of plan of attack. Not directly, in any concrete terms.

Part of the problem was the fact that Helena had obviously shifted gears on them twice - if not more. And she'd do it again if she got wind of the lay of the land. God, he wishes she didn't know about Italy. But at least they knew she was interested in finding them. That she had tried to seek them all out. She would again. And when she did, they'd end it. Even if they weren't saying that in so many words right now.

Lucky: (shaking his head) Is that it?

Nik: For now, I guess it is. (Lucky stares at the edge of the desk, nodding slightly. Ok. So they aren't going to talk about this. It's the whole damn reason they're HERE, but they aren't going to talk about it. Any other scenario, he'd be outraged, but in this case... It's better, he thinks. It's really better to just take the cue and leave it here.)

Lucky: I should check on Emily.

Nik: She looked... better than I expected. (Lucky frowns)

Lucky: What does that mean?

Nik: (blinks) Better... healthier. More stable. I didn't think we'd see her out of bed.

Lucky: Why? Did the doctor say something?

Nik: No. No, Lucky. I'm just basing that on what I saw yesterday. (Lucky doesn't say anything for a long moment)

Lucky: She's strong. Considering.

Nik: Yeah.

Lucky: (getting up, resigned) She'd just say she's not strong enough. (Nikolas nods, watching Lucky's movements. It's strange how someone can be so tense and appear so at ease at the same time. Lucky almost always looks like he's about to strike an attack, while also looking like he's completely disinterested. Nikolas wonders what encouraged that behavior. He watches Lucky knock his knuckle against the mahogany of the desk twice.) We'll talk again tomorrow.

Nik: Yes. (Lucky looks up, meeting Nikolas's eyes, and looks at him critically a moment. Nikolas submits to the overt examination, trying not to look unnerved. What the hell is he thinking?)

Lucky: Good. (He turns around to leave the room, and stops dead, stepping back suddenly and bumping into the desk) Jesus! (Nikolas stands up quickly, silently chastising himself for not warning Lucky about the image he's just confronted)

Nik: Oh. Uh --

Lucky: (Looking up at the huge portrait over the door) Let me guess. (He looks over at Nikolas, clearly unimpressed) Stavros. (Nikolas exhales and sits down again)

Nik: Stavros. (Lucky shakes his head. Ok. If he didn't already think of the man as the definition of evil, this painting would do nothing to encourage him to think warm, fuzzy thoughts. First of all, the size of it suggests delusions of grandeur. Secondly... It's all there. In the eyes, the way he holds his shoulders, his chin... Arrogant, contemptuous... no attempt to even hide behind the cold mask Lucky has always associated with Cassadines. He shakes his head hard and turns away)

Lucky: I didn't know what he looked like. (Nikolas looks surprised)

Nik: You didn't?

Lucky: (Glancing over, annoyed) What? You think Mom used to pull out her old wedding album? No. I didn't know what he looked like. I barely knew he existed until you showed up. (Lucky's hands grip the edge of the desk he is now leaning against. His heart is beginning to race and he scowls, mostly with impatience of his own emotional reaction. It's a PICTURE, Lucky, he tells himself. Of a guy who died twenty years ago. Lucky stares down at the ground all the same, unwilling to look back up at the image) What about you?

Nik: (lost) What?

Lucky: (looking at him, a bit challenging) What about YOU? What images were they feeding you? Were you supposed to look at that thing and salute or what? (Nikolas looks surprised by the question and his expression quickly changes to one of disquietude)

Nik: No. Of course not. It's not even the only one in the house, there is a portrait in the front hall, there is one in--

Lucky: Are they all as cuddly? (Nikolas shifts his weight, tension creeping into his shoulders. He stands up again and moves away from the desk, shaking his head) Nik: He was the prince. He was important.

Lucky: I just can't think of what they told you --

Nik: (sharply) He was my father. (he turns back to Lucky, suddenly defiant) And yes, I saw portraits -- and pictures, and news reel footage, and articles in old papers... He was a PRINCE, Lucky. There is a lot of documentation of his life, no matter how short.

Lucky: (after a moment) You didn't answer my question.

Nik: (irritated) What WAS your question.

Lucky: What did they tell you about him? (Nikolas looks up at Lucky, feeling more than a little persecuted. He looks into Lucky's eyes and feels himself go cold, his mouth tightening. Ok... you want to play this game)

Nik: They told me he was strong and powerful and that one day I would be too. And no, I didn't SALUTE, but those pictures were as close as I ever got to the man who I was supposed to live my life in memory of. I respected him. He was my father. I loved him. Even if he was only an idea. (Lucky feels his heart drop at the words... I loved him... He shakes his head)

Lucky: Do you care?

Nik: About what?

Lucky: About what he did to her. (Nikolas looks down at the ground, his throat going dry. How the hell did they get onto this topic? How did he let this conversation GO this far?)

Nik: (slowly) If he hadn't done it, I wouldn't be here. (he looks up at Lucky) I'm not that altruistic, Lucky. I can't wish for something that blinks me out of existence. What about you? Would you change it if you could? (Lucky stares at him a long moment, the challenge of the question hanging between them. Finally he stands up)

Lucky: I'm going to check on Emily.

Katija's Cottage, late afternoon.

Katija, having left Laura to get some sleep, pulls on a light sweater over her house dress and leaves the house, walking nervously along the path leading to the road. She saw the car earlier and she knows she's expected. Her heart is pounding, hard. Harder than it has in years. Harder than it did when she picked up the phone the other day and heard that voice... she'd thought she'd forgotten what it sounded like. She thought she'd exorcised all effect it had over her. She'd thought it was all out of her system.

She was wrong.

At the end of the path, she turns and looks down the road. Sure enough the black sedan is situated there, waiting. She runs a hand over her hair, smoothing a loose strand back, and noting that her bun is secure, then starts to walk towards the car. Her hands are shaking and her mouth is dry. She feels like twenty years have just melted right off of her and she is back to being that same young, confused child on the island. Wide eyed and big hearted... moved to tears by melancholy notes of music or particularly morose poems... She'd been too sensitive, too naive, too empathetic. When she'd been banished, her sister Andrea had sternly told her she'd been stupid. That she had forgotten her place and let herself be used -- not only by Laura, but by the Cassadines themselves. She had been a victim of her own romanticism. And that was not acceptable.

And so, in the years since, Katija had headed her older sister's advice and shut herself off from the world. There was no reason she had to stay out here, miles from anywhere. She could have gone to the city. And after the communists fell, she could have gone nearly anywhere. But she hadn't had the desire. And now, she was old. Maybe her years only brought her to the crest of forty, but in her heart, she felt ancient and withered.

Reaching the car, Katija stops, her hand on the handle and feels her heart ache. How is she going to do this? How is going to open this door and face her past like this? Laura was one thing. This was entirely different. She feels tears prick her eyes for the first time in years and shakes her head. It doesn't matter. She is not the woman she was. No one would expect her to be. And this is nothing more than a simple discussion. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Katija pulls the door open and slides into the car. She occupies herself with fussing with her skirt, tucking it into the car and closing the door, so that she does not have to look at the man beside her. He will not look the same, she tells herself. Years have passed, he's different too.

Katija raises her head, staring straight ahead a moment, then turns, quickly, like one taking a band aid off in one foul swoop, and looks at her companion.

All the blood in her body rushes to her head.

Katija: (softly, as if she is surprised to see him) Stefan... (Her expression goes blank as she finds herself face to face with the count for the first time in so many years. Her eyes lock on his and it takes her a moment to shake herself out of it and take in the entirety of the man seated beside her. She sits back, leaning her thin body against the door as if he's going to strike out at her and she wants to make a quick exit. Her heart is now hammering hard against her chest, like it's trying to escape her rib cage and make a run for it. He smiles at her and she feels herself begin to shake. Damn it. Damn it is all to hell, she is just as caught in this man's spell as she ever was).

Stefan: Katija. (Katija fights against several strong urges -- from a desire to run away as fast as she can, to just throwing herself on his mercy and asking him to do whatever he wishes with her. No one ever made it into her heart the way Stefan did. And she's always known it was because there was not any more room. Her love for him was the stuff of great literature. Desperate, self-sacrificing, all consuming... And deeply pathetic. Why hadn't she just thrown herself off a cliff years ago? That was the only fitting ending for women like her. They died dramatic deaths and kept themselves pristine in memory. They did not move to desolate farms and let themselves fade away. She turns away from him, once again smoothing her hair. She looks awful. Uncared for, disheveled... the soft beauty of her youth long since evicted at her own insistence. She had not wanted to be beautiful anymore. She had not cared, not until now. She shakes her head)

Katija: She is asleep. How did you know she would come here?

Stefan: You are the person she went to all those years ago. And I know that she left Port Charles because she has some idea in her head regarding Nikolas. (Katija feels chilled by the smooth manner of his speech -- how constricted and practiced it sounds. A bit too much like herself, she thinks, and she must sound just as foreign to him. Terrifying...)

Katija: Yes. She said. Nikolas and his brother. (She looks over at Stefan again, telling herself to breathe, in out, in out... ) You look different.

Stefan: Do I? (She give a slight cough that could double as a laugh)

Katija: Darker. (she flinches) More refined.

Stefan: (smiling a little) Older.

Katija: That too.

Stefan: You look... tired. (Katija looks surprised at this)

Katija: Tired? I - I - I'm perfectly well.

Stefan: I meant to suggest... that life has worn hard on you. (He reaches out and pushes a strand of hair back from her face) But otherwise, you look the same. (Katija stares at him. He looks at her, his eyes taking her in. His gaze is far more gentle than his voice suggest on the phone... or years of speculation led her to believe. He narrows his eyes a little.) Smile for me. (Katija's mouth drops again, her eyes widening. Years melt away, the moment she stops holding her mouth so tightly. He watches her calmly, as if nothing, not her shock or the emotions flying across her face, is unexpected to him. Finally she raises a shaking hand to her mouth, and at that, his expression shifts to one of concern.)

Katija: (almost surprised) I can't. (She shakes her head. Words she never thought she'd say to him.) I... I just can't. (She turns away again) You just don't know what you ask me. (Stefan frowns, somewhat disheartened by her reaction. He opts to change the subject, realizing that he is in dangerous waters.)

Stefan: I am asking to see Laura. Alone. (Katija nods)

Katija: Yes, and that is arranged. I have told my sister not to come home tonight, on your orders. She is your loyal servant, as am I. (the words come out like a memorized nursery rhyme. Andrea is not a Cassadine servant in the way she is. She only served on the island as a teenager, then moved away. She never understood Katija's obsession with the family. And never once had Katija opened her mouth to confess just what she was willing to do for them.)

Stefan: You mentioned Nikolas's brother. Did Laura say she'd been in contact with him?

Katija: (shaking her head) No. Just that she had wronged both of them.. And... (she takes a breath) She wants to find Helena. (She sees Stefan straighten up out of the corner of her eye)

Stefan: Helena.

Katija: Yes. She says... (Katija stops, aware that her voice is quaking. God this is hard.) You should speak to her. Speak to her, she'll explain better than I could. And I know I must be hard for you to look at.

Stefan: Why would you say that? (Katija jerks her body up to a rigid position and tips her chin up, looking ahead)

Katija: I know what I did. You do not have to pretend you are happy with me. I betrayed your family. I put the prince in danger... or I would have, if your mother had not found out what I planned to do. I know how much the prince meant to you. I know you hold nothing but disgust for someone who would put him in that situation. (Stefan's expression darkens. He looks at her gravely)

Stefan: If you had asked me what you should have done, I would not have encouraged you to proceed. I'm still amazed it didn't get you killed.

Katija: My great aunt had her husband plead on my behalf.

Stefan: Yes. Old George always held some influence. Even over my mother. (He looks at her) Regardless of your actions, I would not have let her kill you. (Katija laughs)

Katija: Could you have stopped her? (Stefan says nothing) She must have wanted me to live, for some reason. No one could have stopped her otherwise. (She clenches her hand, gripping the material of her skirt) But you did, in the end, didn't you? You took away her power.

Stefan: Six years later. Yes, I did. (Katija nods her head quickly. She'd heard about that. She'd hoped, ever so briefly, to be sent for. She hadn't been)

Katija: That is good. For the Prince, that must have been so good for him.

Stefan: Only my nephew could answer that. But yes, I believe he looks at it that way. Like any child, he has his disappointments in those who raised him... (Katija looks up at him)

Katija: Oh, not in you! He adored you. (Stefan smiles, a little amused by the statement)

Stefan: He was a very young child when you were sent away, Katija. He's a man now.

Katija: I can't imagine! He must be... twenty years old?

Stefan: Yes. Exactly. (Katija shakes her head)

Katija: I've always wondered about him. I didn't want to leave, you have to know that. I never meant to hurt anyone. I thought it was what was best.

Stefan: (after a moment) I knew you must have had your reasons. You were always loyal to me.

Katija: I loved you. (Katija stops, stunned at the words. She turns and stares at Stefan, her eyes wide, and waits for the sky to open and swallow her up. Nothing happens. Stefan does not look surprised, but moves his head back slightly, an almost imperceptible movement. She casts her eyes down) I would never have told you, but you must have known.

Stefan: (quietly) I did not see much of what was around me during that year. (Katija twists her wrings her hands, her knuckles turning white. She lowers her voice, speaking softly but rapidly)

Katija: I know. I know, I used to watch you, staring out at the sea, like if you just looked hard enough or long enough, you'd be able to see her again. That sheer will would allow you to see straight around the world to wherever she was. She was my friend! I was her chambermaid, I took care of her while she was with child... I saw what was happening. And I knew you loved her. And it was watching you.... So tortured, so alone... my heart ached for you. I wanted to be the one who could make you forget. I wanted to soothe you. I tried to carry your pain for you. But mostly I just wanted to matter to you. (She chokes, years of suppressed and unspoken emotions pouring out of her. Tears begin to flow and she laughs, surprised at herself) I used to weep! Over any tiny thing... You were in the library once... you wouldn't remember... and I asked you what you were reading. You read a little of it to me, a Shakespearean sonnet... "My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red..." -- I thought you were calling me ugly. I went to my room and cried for days. I tended to my duties, of course, but every spare moment, I wept as if you had reached out and struck me. It took me a long time to realize you hadn't meant a thing by it. No. When you spoke of lovers, you though of her. Not me. Maybe that is why I was able to do what I did. Because I realized you would never love me. I knew that, all along. That I was a servant and you were the Count... so we were never to be. But I had hoped that you'd hold me in affection. Think well of me. That was all I desired. I loved you like a dog, Stefan. Without any regard for myself. And that was why, when Laura contacted me, I decided to arrange for her to see Nikolas. Because... that was the one thing you truly wanted. I hoped she'd see him, see how beautiful and fragile he was and not be able to leave. I wanted to bring her back to you! I didn't know how, but it was the one thing I could see that I could do. And I would lose you as my lover, but... in your heart, you'd always remember me. (She looks away from him, falling into silence and letting the enormity of everything she just said sink in) I am disgusted with myself now. That I would ever have been willing to do that much for someone else, that I would have allowed my own heart to shatter into a million pieces for the sake of your happiness. (she puts her head down, letting the loose strand of hair fall into her face again)

Stefan: (after a moment, a little disturbed) People like us are not meant to be happy.

Katija: No. No, they are not. (She wipes her eyes with the knuckle of her index finger) You know what it is like to love like that, don't you? (There is a long silence. Katija can't bring herself to look back at him)

Stefan: (voice low, jumping topic) Helena knew you were my mistress. She took much pleasure in sending you away. (Katija nods)

Katija: She told me I was a lying whore and unworthy of breathing the same air as her grandson. And that she should have known that her son would chose only the most unsuitable of women, the most untrustworthy and calculating, to take to his bed. (She exhales) All these years... Did you consider it a betrayal? I've wondering, so many times... did you think I was trying to take Nikolas away from you?

Stefan: No.

Katija: I wronged you. I've lived all this time knowing I wronged you. And while I paid my penance... (her eyes fill with tears again) I always wondered if you held me in contempt... or if you had forgiven me. (Stefan reaches out, touched, and takes her hand in his. She's is so thin now. Nearly gaunt. Her fingers are still long and elegant, though her nails are ripped and uneven, cut back to the quick. He brushes his thumb across the back of her hand and then raises it to his lips, giving it a lingering kiss.)

Stefan: "... but those tears are pearls which thy love sheds, and they are rich and ransom all ill deeds". (Katija stares at Stefan in near horror. She opens and closes her mouth, but no words come. Finally she pulls her hand back from him, desperately and wretches the car door open. She spills from the car and turns, running back to the house as quickly as she can.)

East Terrace

Emily is now sitting on a wrought iron chair, sideways, her arm over the back and a glass of lemonade in her hand. She is staring off into the distance, fighting tears and worrying. She feels awful and this isn't making her feel any better. Oh, god, this can't be happening. This just can't be happening. She is deeply over the whole "being sick" thing. It doesn't seem fair, in any terms, that she shouldn't be healed by now. That her ribs should still twinge, that her head would still hurt... she still feels warm. She remembers what Lucky said about "accumulating" the heat the day before. She doesn't feel like she's expelled it all yet. She still feels weak. And breathing in all the fresh air in the world doesn't' seem to be helping the way she hoped it would.

Josef: (from behind her, quietly) Would you like to go upstairs?

Em: No. (She puts her hand down on the edge of the barrier and gets up) No, I just... (she stops. Just what? Just need something. Something, she has no idea what, but there has to be something that will make this feeling go away. Her skin is beginning to feel clammy, and her head is swimming. After effects. She shakes her head and walks a little along the barrier, the glass in her hand, out of the shade) I'm going to be Ok.

Josef: Are you doubting that? Do you think the doctor should --

Em: (short) No. (She exhales. Good. Start snapping at people. She takes a careful breath) No, really. I just... I have no patience for this. (She looks down into her glass, then stops and takes a drink. It's just this side of not sweet enough, which, for some reason, is appealing to her. She puts the glass down on the barrier and turns, leaning against it. She looks up and feels the warmth of a much more gentle sun on her face. It feels a bit soothing, combined with the breeze coming in on the water. She stands still for a moment, breathing in the sea air carefully, before anther wave of dizziness hits her and she becomes uncertain of what way is up and needs to open her eyes to ensure herself that everything did not just tip to the left. He hands grip the barrier and her eyes fly open to find everything exactly where she left it. She blinks, staring hard at the interlocking brick of the patio.) I've been sick too long. (She hears Josef move a few steps closer to her)

Josef: Tell me what you need.

Em: (laughs) Magic beans? (She shakes her head dizzily) I'm so sick of feeling bad. (She looks at Josef) It's Ok. Really. I'm being ridiculous.

Josef: I was told you only had sun stroke. Forgive me if I seem unsettled at this revelation. (Emily frowns)

Em: No. No, it was the sun, that's what the doctor said. But... before that. A few weeks ago, I was in an accident. And I still sort of... hurt... from that. (Josef nods)

Josef: You need rest.

Em: I've had rest. It doesn't help much. I spent a whole WEEK in bed. I just can't-- (She stops, unable to say more. Emily feels that same twinge she had on the road, the feeling of missing someone to talk to. Someone who is outside of this. There are so many people absent from her life right now, so many faces to "miss" that she can't really sort through them and find the one she is really wants with her. She looks over at Josef, who is still looking at her. When her gaze meets his, he tips his head a little, in a gesture that looks both questioning and gentle. She smiles a little)

Josef: Perhaps I should collect your husband. (Emily feels another pang at that statement. Her husband. God, there is something about that word. It makes her feel like he's going to produce this entity who exists solely to love, honor and protect her... A strangely comforting concept. She wishes the temptation wasn't there. The absolute truth is that she wants Lucky to take care of her. At this exact moment, it would be so easy to surrender to that and just let him take everything away from her. She supposed she understands why Laura allowed him to do the same thing. Emily jerks herself at the thought. Ok, and NO. Exactly what she's trying to avoid. She gives Josef a wane smile)

Em: No. That's all right, I'm -- (she stops, catching sight of Lucky appearing in the doorway to the terrace. He stares at her a long moment, standing in the middle of the patio. His eyes seem to darken and then his expression goes blank and he steps out of the house, crossing the terrace towards her)

Lucky: What are you doing out here?

Em: I told you I wanted some air.

Lucky: You GOT air. I thought you said you were going to bed.

Em: And I am. Now. (Lucky stares at her, his expression almost hurt. Emily feels herself tense. Oh, WHAT? What has she done wrong this time? She looks at him warily as he comes to stand in front of her.)

Lucky: Come on.

Em: I'm fine. Nothing is happening, I'm just --

Lucky: Em.

Em: I'm FINE! I am. (Emily's voice gets a little shrill, though she is obviously trying to keep things on a "non-serious" level) Look! (She brings her arm up, releasing her death grip on the barrier, and waves it) I can move and -- (he hand hits the glass resting on the barrier. It falls and Emily gasps, turning too quickly and catching the sight of it plummeting over the edge and down a remarkably sharp drop -- not quite a cliff, but an intensely steep hill that does break off at a ledge several meters down. The glass falls, bounces, then tumbles down the hill, hitting the hard rock of the cliff and shattering. Emily sucks in her breath at the distant sound of the glass breaking, just before the shards of glass scatter, falling over the edge she can't see over, and scattering around the ground. She feels Lucky come up behind her)

Lucky: It's Ok, they can afford it. (Emily stares over the edge, her eyes wide, and feels incredibly cold. Foreboding. Another dizzy spell take her, as she stares at him in confusion. She puts her hand out, blindly, like she's trying to grab onto something that isn't there. Lucky snaps to, and moves towards her quickly, giving her something to hold onto. Emily puts her hand up and holds his shoulder, letting him take her weight for a moment. She feels Lucky's arm close around her waist. )

Lucky: (quietly) Are you Ok?

Em: Yeah. (she nods, and closes her eyes) I'm just going to lie down again. (She looks up at him) Come with me?

Lucky: Yeah. Sure. (he glances over at Josef. Josef looks at him impassively. Lucky turns away. He doesn't even want to know what happened out here. He feels Emily move away from him a little, taking her own weight back.) Emily, no. Let me help you. (Emily gives a weak smile, looking down at the ground)

Em: No. (She looks up, taking a deep breath) I can do it myself. (She pulls away from him and starts to walk, carefully but steadily, towards the door. Lucky watches after her a moment, then follows, refusing to look back at Josef)