Chapter Ninety-Three:
Gut Reactions

Nikolas stares at the contents of the bag. There are a series of envelopes, some folded in half, some smooth, almost untouched, some tied with elastics. It's haphazard, tossed in as if whoever did this didn't really care about it. He doesn't have to look in the envelopes, he can sense what's in them. He can tell, mostly because of the item that added the uneven weight. He reaches in and pulls out Lucky's gun, not moving it out of the bag, just into the light so that he can examine it more clearly.

This shouldn't surprise him.

If someone had asked him, at some point, whether or not it was possible to find a gun among his brother's personal effects, he would have answered, perhaps after a moments hesitation, that it was more than likely. But no one had ever asked him, and for some reason, he'd never stopped to think about it. This was stupid of him. Lucky, regardless of his blood relationship to him, was a Spencer, first and foremost... and this was the picture of Luke Spencer that had always been painting for him -- armed madman, willing to kill at the drop of a hat if you provided him with an excuse. What real proof did he have that Lucky wasn't exactly the same way? And when, exactly, had he stopped thinking of him as just an extension of Luke, anyway?

Nikolas lets the gun slide from his fingers numbly, and looks at the envelopes, still not allowing himself to actually touch them. He knows what must be in them. He repeats this to himself several times. Only one thing makes sense. Lucky was leaving town, he was going on the road, he wouldn't have wanted to be traceable... it makes sense, he doesn't have to look, he knows, he knows, he knows....

Nikolas picks up one of the thinner envelopes, and flicks the lip of the envelope up, untucking it. He sees exactly what he expected -- money. Large bills. He catches only a glimpse and drops the envelope like he's been burned. The bag falls back into the trunk and Nikolas, without even thinking, slams the trunk closed. He steps back, then turns and walks away from the car quickly, his heart pounding. What does this mean? He shouldn't have looked, he KNEW what he'd find, why the hell didn't he just leave it alone? HE stops and catches his breath, then turns back and looks at the car. How many envelopes had been in there? Twenty, at least... And that one had been thinner than some of the others. If they all contained money.... Thousands, easy. He walks back over to the car and stares at the trunk again.

It was so... American. A gym bag containing money and a gun. This never happened to him when he was living on the island... Granted, not much HAD happened back there. He puts his hands on the edge of the trunk and leans forward, teeth gritted, trying to get his mind to stop leaping all over the place.

Ok... Thinking clearly... this isn't a surprise. Or at least, it shouldn't have been. Nonetheless, his guts have twisted themselves violently. He KNEW what Lucky was doing... Well, he knew a slight, inconsequential amount of information -- he probably knew, at this point, just what Luke Spencer had when he'd stormed the penthouse, maybe even less. He didn't know what Lucky was doing, and he didn't know why. None of what Lucky was doing made any sense to him, from the stuff with Jason Morgan right down to...

He pushes it from his mind, desperately. He CAN'T think about it, he doesn't want to face any of the things that it might mean, knowing Lucky knows his family's most carefully guarded secret.

It's out of his hands, after a whole evening of stubbornly refusing to give it any thought, outside the occasional flash, the fight is coming back on him, with doubled force. Nikolas hangs his head, his blood thundering through his head. He's going to have to do something about this, before it drives him crazy... And there is only one person he can even conceive of talking to about this -- Lucky. But ONLY if it was that Lucky he'd been dealing with last night, or the one he'd seen a small glimpse of this morning. There was no point in talking to the other personalities.

AND none of THAT mattered right now, because all he can really focus on is the fact that Lucky has a hell of a lot more money in that trunk than he made at the bar. So it's not the money from the bar, it's the money from Jason... and what the hell do you do for the mob that makes you that sort of money? And how the hell can it be something that isn't incredibly dangerous? And the gun.. And ... This ISN'T a surprise, he tells himself for the umpteenth time. It's just reality. It's what should be expected.

Because, he thinks to himself, your brother is a mobster.

Nikolas hits the trunk with his fist in frustration. Damnit Lucky! How many incredibly stupid decisions could someone as smart as Lucky make? And why was he always asking himself this question about the people in his life? Smart people, STUPID STUPID STUPID choices. Hannah, Katherine, Lucky.... He puts his head down, and forces himself to breathe normally. This wasn't going to be a repeat of the other times he'd been broadside. He has to know what's going on here, and he's not taking half information as an answer this time. Of course, there's no point in going to the source. For starters, Luke's spiriting him back to Camp Spencer, a place he isn't going to be welcome any time soon. Secondly, Lucky is about as likely to give him a straight answer right now as he is to run a marathon. There's only one other place to go.

He straightens up, and pulls Lucky's keys out of the trunk in a sharp gesture, then stops and looks back at the trunk, as well as the bags still lying where he tossed them.

Damnit.

He turns back to the trunk. That's what he's here to do anyway. Help Lucky. Then he's getting answers.

Hannah's Apartment.

Hannah sits on the floor, her head cradled in her hands. This is unreal. This can't be happening. People don't do things like this. It's insane. These aren't words that she can say outloud, however -- Helena's made it very clear that once is amusing, twice is a slashed throat. This plan of hers, this ridiculous plan -- it's held together, as far as she can tell, with money and fear. People willing to take a fast buck and too afraid to say no to Helena Cassadine. She looks up at her, blearily.

Hannah: But... how will you poison him? I mean, wouldn't that be traceable? They'll do an autopsy, there will be toxicology reports.

Helena: On a boy who obviously died of a head trauma? I doubt it. And even so, they will not be looking for poison. And they won't find it. This is virtually untraceable. And quick. He'd be in a coma within the hour and once that's occurred, there really is no hope.

Hannah: I really... Ok. Even if you CAN get Nikolas to hit him -- and I'm not sure what --

Helena: He's done it before, hasn't he?

Hannah: Yeah, and he said he'd never do it again.

Helena: HOW many altercation has Nikolas had with Lucky, that you know of?

Hannah: Uh....

Helena: More than one? Less than five? How many?

Hannah: I don't know!

Helena: What you have to learn in this life, Hannah, is that you can only manipulate your situation if you accept it. You look at what is around you, and perhaps you don't like the cards you've been dealt, but you have to play them all the same. These are the cards you've given me. You knew that I'd play to win, and now you fall apart when I use them to my advantage!

Hannah: It is NOT my fault Lucky got a concussion!

Helena: The car wasn't aiming at Lucky.... No, the driver was attempting to injure that lovely niece of yours, and.... Why was that, again?

Hannah: But... This...I don't understand.

Helena: If you are going to be any assistance to me at all you have to learn to keep your innate stupidity better concealed. Listen to me carefully, because if you are going to play my game, then you had better understand the rules. I did not intend for Lucky Spencer to be injured. I was not pleased to hear about it. BUT that is what happened and now I have to work with it. Which is what I'm doing. Young Spencer has a concussion. A seemingly minor injury, yes? But an infamously unpredictable one. It isn't going to be difficult to believe that a second blow.... Oh, this is needlessly complicated. I have already spoken to people who find medicine far more interesting than I do -- for some reason the act of healing people has never held much fascination for me.

Hannah: I know what you're talking about.. That "second injury" thing... It kills football players, right?

Helena: I'm not terribly familiar with "foot ball".

Hannah: I'm just saying I've HEARD of it. Someone in my hometown died that way, he got a concussion during a game, then got hit half as hard at a game a couple of days later and never woke up.... It's not really the fault of the person who delivers the second hit, I mean... it's because of the first injury. It's like... combined effect.

Helena: Fine. You can give that explanation as a eulogy at the boy's funeral. I'm sure it will be well received. (Hannah covers her face with her hands again)

Hannah: but....

Helena: Oh, what now?

Hannah: It's just so.... I mean, what if I can't ... I don't know. Nikolas was so concerned for Lucky yesterday, I just can't see him taking a swing at him again.

Helena: Does Nikolas trust Lucky?

Hannah: He.... (she sighs heavily) No. He doesn't.

Helena: You hesitated.

Hannah: HE WANTS to trust him. No... it's more like he wishes he could. But, no... he doesn't. Not really.

Helena: There, now was that so hard? An honest answer. There may be hope for you after all, Corrine.

Hannah: Just.... (she closes her eyes a moment and takes a deep breath) What if it doesn't work? What if he doesn't do it? Then what?

Helena: They we play knew cards.

Hannah: You... you have a back up, don't you?

Helena: (blandly) Lucky Spencer's lifestyle lends itself to accidents. I'm sure if this fails I'll come up with something else. (She looks at Hannah and smiles) But it won't, will it? You have until Friday. I'll be checking on your progress. (Hannah nods numbly, and Helena couches to the ground, so that she is eye level, lifting Hannah's face to hers.) Don't disappoint me. (She stands and walks to the door, which a silent Ari opens swiftly, allowing her to exit without slowing her pace. He tosses Hannah a pitying but scornful look, and follows his mistress out of the apartment.

Ari: Are you certain she's going to do what she's told?

Helena: If she doesn't.... There's always another solution.

General Hospital, ICU

Lucky steps off the elevator after Monica. He's getting frustrated with himself. He'd assumed that at some point his body would just ACCEPT the fact that it was being used again, and everything would stop being so much work. Didn't seem to be happening, at least not quickly enough for him. Walking is getting no easier, he's still dizzy as hell, and he's steadily discovering new aches, bruises and various other injuries. At least gun shots were predictable. This was REALLY getting to be annoying.

Monica, walking down the hallway ahead of him stops, and notices how far behind he's lagging. She walks back to him.

Monica: Lucky.... (Lucky forces himself not to scowl at her. This is not the time to go around provoking Quartermaines)

Lucky: Yeah...

Monica: Are you sure you don't want some kind of help. (Lucky leans his shoulder against the wall and looks at her coolly)

Lucky: No, I'm fine. (Monica sighs)

Monica: Her room is just at the end of the corridor... I should warn you, she's not... herself. (Lucky nods slightly, closing his eyes a moment)

Lucky: Hey, who is? (Monica frowns at him a moment. It's been awhile since she's talked to Lucky, and he's making about an 1/8 of the minimal sense he used to make to her. Lucky opens his eyes to catch the confused look on her face) I'll be good, don't worry.

Monica: (wryly) Well, AJ isn't here right now, or Edward -- that's part of the reason I thought now would be a good time for you to come.

Lucky: Sure. (He pushes off the wall, and starts down the hall again, determinedly, Monica keeping pace with him this time)

Monica: Alan was with her when I left.... (she clears her throat slightly) This has all been very ... surprising for us. And to be frank, it's bringing up a lot of bad memories. (Lucky nods. He'd thought of that)

Lucky: Jason. (Monica glances over at him)

Monica: Yes, mostly Jason. (She sighs) And there's a bit of concern about what happened at the house as well. (Lucky stops walking momentarily and turns to look at Monica. He has too much of a headache to continue the rhythm of this conversation).

Lucky: Look... I know I wasn't supposed to be there. But I needed to see Emily and ... That's not always easy to do these days, Ok? (Monica nods, slightly surprised) And... Everything else, she'll tell you, Ok? It's not my place. As for AJ.... (He shrugs) Emily would say we have "issues". I'll keep my distance... from them. But not from Emily.

Monica: Just.... She needs to see you're Ok for herself. That's what's really important right now. (Lucky nods, and turns to head down the last few steps to the end of the hallway, Monica still along side him, in silence. They turn the corner, and nearly run straight into Alan. Lucky grips the wall with one hand, to avoid swaying. Alan looks at him coldly, and though intense focus does nothing for Lucky's headache, he meets the gaze.)

Lucky: Mr. Quartermaine.

Alan: (coldly, to Monica) You found him, I see.

Monica: Alan...

Alan: You're going to see her?

Lucky: Yeah.

Alan: Good. I want you, when you see her... I want you to think about just how it is she got there. (Alan looks at Monica who is staring at him in shock, then turns and walks off down the hall. Lucky stares straight in front of him, trying not to admit to himself that Alan scored a direct hit)

Monica: (calling after him) Alan!

Lucky: (mumbling) I'm ... (He looks across the hall and sees Emily through the observation window of the room. He clears his throat) I'm going to see her. (Monica nods. She looks over her shoulder at Alan, who has disappeared from sight, then back at Lucky.)

Monica: I don't blame you, Lucky. (Lucky nods slightly, then walks over to the door, not giving her another look. He pulls the door open, then hesitates just inside the door. He looks back over his shoulder and catches Monica watching him, though she turns away quickly. He walks into the room, closing the door behind him, his eyes fixed on her. She's asleep. Her breathing is strangely quick, shallow. The ribs, he guesses. She looks so fragile. Fragile isn't a word he often associates with her. He'd seen her vulnerable, scared, angry.... In the grip of so many powerful emotions.... He wasn't prepared to see her devoid of any. He casts a look at the window that allows anyone who happens by a view of what is happening in the room. His chest tightens and he retreats, letting himself fall against the door, the one place in the room that can't be seen from the window. She looks JUST like she did last night, just the same as the parking lot, except that now he can see her breathing. That's the only difference. She's just as still, just as pale... he feels a painful lump form in his throat without warning, and instinctively puts his hand over his solar plexus, as if he's trying to protect his gut from reacting to exactly what's going on here. He doesn't have it in him right now. The guilt is too overwhelming, and it's not going to serve a purpose. Besides, he has Monica outside, judging whether or not he's being loving enough, attentive enough, whether he cares enough... Lucky chokes back a sob, frustrated with himself. This is stupid. She's going to be Ok. Everyone has told him that, about fifty times now, and he's seen people worse than this, it's never been a big deal. He forces himself away from the wall and walks over to the bed. He grips the metal bar on the side of the bed with both hands and studies her hard, looking for anything that might be different from the night before. Nikolas was right about the bruise. It's light, a strange yellow-brown color, and it forms a strange line, almost a design, on her face. He reaches out shakily and lightly touches her temples, brushing his finger down her cheek. She still feels warm. He pulls his hand back, and grips the bar again, hard. It's JUST like it was last night. Just has hard to look at her, the feelings just as violent and unpleasant. His eyes fall on her wrist.. Nikolas had mentioned that too, that it had been twisted or... wrenched. He closes his eyes, that moment coming back to him in a sudden flash. The car barreling down on them, Lucky pulling her, grabbing her wrists and trying to pull her away and then... the car hit. Suddenly, more than the edge ripping into his side, the force of the blow, the one thing that he remembers feeling clearly was Emily's wrist being wretched out of his grasp, of losing his grip on her, helpless to save her, to do anything. He bows his head, finally letting go and surrendering to the tears he's been fighting ever since he saw he through the window, right as Alan had ambushed him. They fall in large drops, and he slides down into the chair placed by her bedside, struggling to get a grip on his emotions. It's not working. He leans forward, resting his head against his hands, and concentrates on his breathing. He doesn't notice Emily's waken up until he feels her hand gently touch his hair. He jumps, and sits up quickly, the whole room dipping violently on him. He slumps back in the chair a moment, his heart racing, then leans forward slightly.)

Lucky: Hi. (Emily squints at him, then smiles sadly).

Em: Don't cry. (Lucky gasps for a strangled breath and shakes his head. The tears spilling from his eyes feel completely divorced from him, not something he is a party to. He shakes his head)

Lucky: (smiling weakly) I'm not. (Emily reaches up slowly, and brushes the tears running down his face. Lucky grips her hand in his and presses it against his face, squeezing his eyes shut. He takes it in both of his hands and kisses her palm, then looks down at her again)

Em: I thought... you'd been hurt.

Lucky: (shakily) Me? Nah. You know I always bounce back. (Emily nods slightly, then stares off for a moment. Lucky waits for her to say something, but receives nothing.) Em? (She looks back at him unsteadily)

Em: Were you... Where's my Mom?

Lucky: Uh... (He wipes at his eyes impatiently) She's outside, do you want me to get her?

Em: No... (She sighs and closes her eyes. When she speaks again her voice is very small) We were leaving.... Weren't we? (Lucky feels a chill a moment then nods slightly)

Lucky: Yeah.

Em: Where were we going? (He stares down at her, then swallows hard before answering)

Lucky: Uh... we didn't know. I mean.. We hadn't really decided. (Emily nods, satisfied with this answer. After a moment Lucky reaches out tentatively to stroke her cheek with his hand. Emily turns her head towards him, then opens her eyes again, forcing a smile.)

Em: I didn't know if they'd let you in.

Lucky: Monica...

Em: She promised.... (Lucky nods slightly, not wanting to think too long on her parents.)

Lucky: (coughing, mostly to cover the fact that his breath is still uneven) How're you feeling? (Emily lets out an audible sigh,)

Em: Better. Now.

Lucky: I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner, I.... (He stops. He's not going to get into it) It doesn't matter.

Em: I knew you had to have a reason. (She blinks, allowing her eyes to stay closed a little longer than she would normally) Are you Ok? (Lucky nods, dismissively) Really.

Lucky: I'm fine, I'm outta here. I'm going home. (Emily frowns at him)

Em: You were... Home?

Lucky: Long story. I'll tell you tomorrow, Ok? (He leans over and kisses her forehead, pressing his lips against her skin a long moment before pulling back) You look like you're about to fade out on me again.

Em: Was it Helena? (Lucky freezes, then narrows his eyes at her)

Lucky: Why... What are you asking me, Em?

Em: This... Was it Helena. (Lucky tries to answer but the words catch in his throat. He struggles, attempting to breathe through them, but stops dead, feeling himself choke up again. He shakes his head violently.)

Lucky: (a whisper) I'm sorry.... I'm so sorry, Emily. (Emily nods inperceptively.)

Em: It's not you. (Lucky, thoroughly unconvinced, looks away from her, feeling tears threatening to spill again. He starts slightly when he sees his father through the glass, talking to Monica. He turns back to Emily.)

Lucky: It doesn't matter. Look... (He leans over, closer to her) I'm.... (He stops, closing his eyes against his ever-present headache, which is making it's presence felt a little more strongly for some reason) I'm probably going to get pulled out of here soon, Ok? (Emily, lets her eyes close, and smiles contentedly).

Em: (thickly) I just wanted to see you. (Lucky sighs. He doesn't want to leave. He doesn't know how he's going to find the strength to make it to the door, his head is throbbing so hard, and his chest feels like it's about to burst. He swallows painfully)

Lucky: I... (He stops... What does he want to say? He's sorry, he loves her, he's not going to let this happen again... what can it possibly mean to her now? Emily opens her eyes again.)

Em: I love you, Lucky. (Lucky looks at her pained, wondering if it would have been better if she'd just kicked him. He nods, unable to make any words come. She closes her eyes again and quickly drifts off to sleep. Lucky finally lets her hand fall and pulls away from her, trembling. Suddenly the question isn't how can he leave, so much as how fast can he get out of here? The fact that he wants to leave does nothing to quell the violent self-loathing that's attacking him now, and he leans forward again, his head in his hands. After a moment, he pulls himself together and stands up)

Lucky: I love you, too. (He lightly traces the bruise with his knuckle again) I'll be back. (He turns and walks out of the room. The moment he opens the door, Luke is by his side, with unaccustomed awkwardness.)

Luke: Your mother's getting the prescription. We're going to meet her at the car. (Lucky nods, hunching his shoulder, as if he's standing in a violent wind. Luke looks at him with undisguised concern) How you holding up, Cowboy? (Lucky shrugs as Monica approaches)

Monica: Thank you, Lucky. (she studies his face a moment. He won't meet her gaze, but his anguish is unmistakable) She really needed to see you. (He nods again, still not trusting him to talk) Any time you need to see her... (she stops, realizing the inversion of words, then decides that, given Lucky's current state, they probably aren't far off) When you need to see her, I'll make sure you get in. And... ignore my family. That's what I do, most of the time. (Lucky looks at her a long moment).

Lucky: Thanks. (Luke looks over at Lucky, still looking like he's just been through some hideous ordeal, and risks placing a fatherly arm around his son's shoulders. Lucky closes his eyes a moment, fighting to make himself accept the comfort. His need for solace greatly outweighs his guilt, and he leans against him. Luke is surprised, but quickly pulls him into a hug. Lucky doesn't open his eyes, trying to stay detached, not to think, just to let whatever happens happen. After a moment Luke steps back from him, and Lucky pulls away, again, wiping at his eyes to ensure no tears leak out. Luke looks determinedly into Lucky's eyes, his hands on his shoulders.)

Luke: You ready to go home? (Lucky sighs)

Lucky: Yeah.

Wyndemere, Balcony.

Stefan looks out at the lake, lost in thought. Nikolas approaches from behind and stops just at the door to the balcony. Stefan staring out at the lake... again. He's done that a lot, he'd attributed it to his grieving process. But now he knows that was a lie. Or at the very least, a great exaggeration. Now he doesn't know what to read into it... once again, he has no idea what his father is thinking. However, Stefan feels his presence extrasensorily, and speaks to him, while still staring out at the lake.

Stefan: I was looking for you.

Nik: I know. I got the messages when I checked with my service.

Stefan: This is a dangerous time for you to be out of touch.

Nik: You know where I was.

Stefan: (turning around) How is Lucky?

Nik: I think he's probably been released by now. He... His injuries weren't serious.

Stefan: But you stayed with him.

Nik: Yes, I did. Not WITH him, of course, but... I stayed at the hospital. (Stefan frowns) That surprises you.

Stefan: You've always had a great capacity for compassion.

Nik: He's my brother. (Stefan looks at him, examining his expression)

Stefan: I see.

Nik: I want to know what you know about him.

Stefan: In what regard?

Nik: In regard to his work with Jason Morgan! And in regard to what happened last night.

Stefan: The accident, you mean.

Nik: What else?

Stefan: That was... unforeseen. If it was your Grandmother, she fired no warning shot.

Nik: She went to the house.

Stefan: I was informed she left without incident.

Nik: Nothing she has ever done in her life has been without "incident", you taught me that. Never trust her, never presume to understand her.

Stefan: Nikolas, if I had any suspicion that your grandmother planned to hurt Spencer's --

Nik: (swallowing hard) You didn't' hear anything? She didn't ... She hasn't made any threats, or anything?

Stefan: Certainly not to me. She has yet to initiate any contact, and I have no wish to seek her out myself -- not at this time. (He frowns) Are you certain that it was her?

Nik: You mean, it could have been because of his ties to the mob.

Stefan: It's not impossible.

Nik: No... But... (He stops.) That's what I have to know, uncle. I have to know how ... (Nikolas turns away, frustrated. He's not even sure what words he's looking for). Tell me what you know.

Stefan: You know everything that is necessary --

Nik: TELL ME! (Stefan jerks his head back, surprised at Nikolas's explosion. He frowns at him) I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just... I have to know why this happened.

Stefan: Those are questions to which I have no satisfactory answers.

Nik: Then just tell me what you know about Lucky and Morgan.

Stefan: I have told you most of what there is to know. Only that he has been working for Morgan since the summer... the nature of his employment is not information I am privy to.

Nik: Do... Would he be in danger?

Stefan: It seems to me that Lucky has a strong aversion to safety, given his past actions.

Nik: Like... What? (Stefan looks at Nikolas a moment, considering his options)

Stefan: Your... brother. He is impetuous. He tends not to give things due consideration.

Nik: I know.

Stefan: Then you already have more answers than I can give you. Nikolas. Facts are only part of the story. If you know what Lucky is capable of... then you know what you need to know. (He frowns) Are you worried about your mother?

Nik: (distantly) No.... No. (He looks up sharply) Do you think I should be?

Stefan: You know that I would never allow injury to befall her. (Nikolas nods)

Nik: I know. But... (he looks up, his eyes filled with doubt) Helena.

Stefan: You still think that she was a party to Lucky's accident.

Nik: I was... I was THERE, uncle. I saw it happen. (Stefan nods)

Stefan: I know. I was waiting for you to choose to tell me.

Nik: It....

Stefan: It is not your grand mother's modus operandi.

Nik: Unless she could somehow twist it to suit her purposes... (He looks at Stefan, feeling a twinge of guilt for withholding the information he has about Emily's connection to all of this.) Uncle --

Stefan: Either way, that is likely. She hasn't tried to contact you personally?

Nik: (smiling slightly) When? As you pointed out, I haven't been home.

Stefan: Yes. And speaking of which...

Nik: I'm not coming back to the island. Not right now, at least.

Stefan: All right. (pause) You could occupy the guest house if you wished to have privacy --

Nik: It's not that. I don't ... I want to be in Port Charles right now. It's important. (He looks out at the lake a moment, able to make out the hospital in the distance) We'll speak about it again.

Stefan: I'm sure we will. It sounds as if there are a great many things for us to speak about in more depth. Perhaps tonight you could stay for supper.

Nik: I can't. Not today. I should.... I should be going.

Stefan: Very well, I will walk you down to the launch.

Nik: No... no, I think I'll show myself out. (Stefan nods, after a moment, clearly disappointed, and turns back to the view. Nikolas stares at the back of his head, and struggles to make himself leave. He can't. He has to ask.) Uncle... (Stefan turns back to him, expectantly.) Does Laura know?

Stefan: Know what? (Nikolas looks at him meaningfully. Stefan takes him in a long moment) No. (Nikolas studies Stefan's face, which is impenetrable. All these years, his father, the man who raised him, a man who he had scarcely been without in all his years, and he still cannot read him. He never will be able to. And as such, never be entirely sure he is being given the truth).

Nik: You're sure?

Stefan: Why do you ask?

Nik: I ..... I saw her last night. We spoke. (He clears his throat.) I want to know. I want to know if she was ever told.

Stefan: As I have told you before, she knows there is a possibility.

Nik: But... nothing for certain, nothing for absolute sure.

Stefan: Are... Nikolas.

Nik: I just want to know. That's all.

Stefan: There is nothing to be gained by her knowledge.

Nik: I know. I just... wanted to hear your answer.