Chapter Ninety-Four:
The Eye of the Hurricane

The Spencer House, after dinner.

Laura rinses dishes, clearly on automatic. Lulu is upstairs, playing, and Lucky went straight to bed without so much as a word, just some mumbled mention of not needing anything. He's still asleep, hours later. She can't help but worry about why. Part of it, obviously, is due to his injuries, but she got a very strong impression that Lucky just didn't want to be conscious. He's had a look on his face like every moment from the hospital back to the house was pure torture. Lulu seemed to have sensed it too, and instead of engaging him in conversation had just curled up against him in the back seat of the car, a strangely protective expression on her face. She'd been unnaturally quiet the rest of that day, looking at her wide-eyed occasionally, like she had a question to ask, but whenever Laura had prodded her, she had just shook her head, refusing to talk.

This had to end. It was a feeling that had been building in her ever since Lucky's nocturnal visit the previous week. It was just a question of how, now. Of when. She wasn't sure what was going to be best for Lucky at this point. If telling Luke while he was under their roof was a good idea or a bad one. She drops the plate in her hand into the sink with a clatter, and leans her hands on the edge of the counter, gripping it hard. The door opens and she looks up at the gust of wind accompanied by the familiar smell of cigar smoke. She smiles weakly at the sight of her husband.

Laura: You're back.

Luke: Just doing some thinking.

Laura: Lucky.

Luke: He's going to be all right, baby.

Laura: Are you sure about that? (Luke sighs heavily and sinks into a chair at the kitchen table.

Luke: He's always all right. In the end, he always pulls through.

Laura: (quietly) I keep telling myself that, too. (She turns away from the sink, pulling a dishtowel off of a hook behind the sink and starts to dry her hands) But this isn't just about the accident.

Luke: No, it isn't. (They meet each other's eyes, both studying the other's reaction).

Laura: How do you think he knew?

Luke: Knew?

Laura: You said that he must have known Helena was here. That's why Jason's men got here so fast. Luke --

Luke: It's nothing for you to worry about. Lucky and Jason... they seem to have quite a rapport going.

Laura: If he knew, then why wouldn't he tell us? (Luke shakes his head)

Luke: I don't know. (He looks at her pointedly) But I'm thinking it has something to do with that kid of yours.

Laura: Nikolas?

Luke: Lucky said he had something to tell me this afternoon at the club. But he took off with Nikolas before he got a chance. Then there's the fact that Nikolas was at the club when the accident happened.

Laura: (tensely) What are you suggesting?

Luke: (shrugging) Lucky and Nikolas don't see eye to eye. They've never had anything to say to each other.

Laura: What about after the shooting? (Luke groans)

Luke: The kid was bleeding to death right in front of him -- (Laura closes her eyes and puts a hand up)

Laura: I don't want the details.

Luke: Hey, I'm not saying Lucky wasn't confused, or didn't have some stuff to sort out about that. He did. And it didn't change a thing.

Laura: WHAT if something did change? What if --

Luke: Laura! (he takes a deep breath) Look. I saw them at the club. I heard what they said. Lucky had nothing to say to him.. Until he suddenly did. If something's fishy about this whole thing, it's Nikolas.

Laura: Nikolas had nothing to do with this! He couldn't have.

Luke: (carefully) he's a lot older now than he was when he first came here.

Laura: LUKE! For God's sake, don't you think I know my own son? Don't you think I have SOME idea of what he's capable of? (She sighs heavily) I saw what happened when Nikolas went to see Lucky -- (Luke stands up suddenly, pushing his chair backwards, the legs screeching on the floor)

Luke: Don't even... The LAST thing Lucky needed last night was to have to deal with --

Laura: (raised voice) HE WAS THERE TO TELL HIM HOW EMILY WAS! (Luke stops dead) That was all. He'd promised to tell him. That's the kind of person Nikolas is. (Luke's face darkens)

Luke: Right. And Lucky isn't.

Laura: I didn't say that!

Luke: You know, Lucky is the one that's hurt. He's the one who needs you right now --

Laura: He HAS me! You know that. I wouldn't have even left his side last night if I didn't have to take care of our other child! I'm doing the best I can here, but I have THREE children, and I have to put them ALL first.

Luke: (angrily) Really? Would you feel that way if Nikolas DID have something to do with this? God! If that kid hadn't set up camp here in Port Chuckles, then Helena wouldn't been snooping around here at all. (Laura stares at him in horror)

Laura: (deadly quiet) You don't blame Nikolas for this at all, do you? You blame me!

Luke: (shaking his head) This is exactly what they want. Us, fighting like this, going after each other!

Laura: I'm not going after YOU! (Luke turns his back from her and paces a few steps. He stops and rubs his neck, deep in thought. Laura leans against the counter, her heart pounding with anger and frustration. She crosses her arms across her chest and forces herself to access her calm. She speaks with obvious tension, but careful delivery) Look. You're right. None of that really matters right now. Right now, all that matters is Lucky.

Luke: (turning back to her) Have you checked on him?

Laura: he's still asleep.

Luke: Jesus!

Laura: He needs it. It's the best thing for him right now.

Luke: Yeah.... (Laura and Luke both fall into silence, considering what they are leaving unsaid... Lucky needs help. And neither one knows how to give it to him.)

Hannah's Apartment, late evening.

Hannah is still sitting on the floor of the kitchen, the bottle of scotch next to her, really close to not caring any more. Alcohol had always been a vice, she'd avoided it in the last five years, but never as strictly as she should have. And today... well, if ever there was a reason to drink, this was it. She'd tried to go to the hospital, she'd tried to call Nikolas, but she hadn't been able to make herself move. This is pathetic, she's aware of that. No amount of scotch seems to be able to make that gut feeling of self-loathing go away. She knows herself too well. She takes the easy way out. She always has. And she's going to do it this time. She'll do what Helena wants, and she won't fight nearly hard enough. How hard did she fight against Oliver? Or anyone else for that matter... she didn't. She just left.

Leaving... now there's an idea.

Pick up, walk out.... How can Helena win then? She'd... No. She's just reevaluate again. Find another plan. And kill Lucky, just out of spite, really. Lucky is the biggest threat right now, if he and Nikolas somehow worked out their difference, nothing would ever bring Nikolas back to the fold, back to Greece, the place Helena insists he belongs. What.... Would that mean? What is Helena really suggesting to her? That Nikolas leaves Port Charles, that she goes with him. And they all leave Emily, alone. Really alone, with that crazy family and her boyfriend dead. That's not really what Helena wants. It can't be. Somehow, she'll get rid of her, too. So she'll be dead, and Lucky will be dead, and Emily will be miserable and Nikolas will be devastated, and every single person she cares about even remotely will be completely destroyed.

OR... she doesn't do what Helena wants. And Helena kills Emily. And then... Lucky blames Nikolas, because the Cassadines have robbed him of someone he loves. And he'd probably try to kill him. And Nikolas would lose everything all over again. And the plan would still come to fruition. Helena wins. Checkmate.

Hannah opens the bottle again and takes a gulp of the thick liquid. There's no way she can win. Not really. Someone is going to die, somehow. It's just a question of who, when and how... Somehow there has to be another choice. But right now her brain is too cloudy to grasp onto it. About three hours ago she made a promise to herself to think about it in the morning. Now she's certain that she'll have a sever headache, but it really doesn't matter. Nothing matters... She groans and slumps over onto the hard ceramic tile. EVERYTHING MATTERS! That's not how drinking is supposed to work! Why can't she let go? Why is this so hard?

Because she's never had a boss with homicidal tendencies.

The door opens, and light streams in from the hallway. Hannah winces and sits up again, nearly knocking over the bottle.

Nik: (worried) Hannah?

Hannah: (calling) What? (Nikolas comes into the apartment.

Nik: Where are you? Why is the door open?

Hannah: I'm not really too worried about breaking and entering at this point.

Nik: (rounding the corner to the kitchen) Jesus! What are you doing?

Hannah: (looking from him to the bottle then back) That should be obvious.

Nik: You're drunk.

Hannah: (laughing slightly) Don't worry... not nearly drunk enough.

Nik: HANNAH! Come on! (he walks to her, and tries to pull her off the floor. She remains a dead weight)

Hannah: (whining) Don't!

Nik: Hannah, you can't do this! Not now. Come on, you need... I don't know, a shower, or some--

Hannah: (viciously) If you try to pour coffee down my throat, I'll scratch your eyes out. (Nikolas drops her arm and takes a step back. Hannah, realizing what she just said, smiles at him too brightly and speaks again, her voice light and airy) Or, you know, just swear at you... (Nikolas stares at her, disapprovingly) I get to do this, Nikolas. I get to not feel for a little while. (Nikolas shakes his head and turns away from her)

Nik: Did you even go to see Emily today?

Hannah: Now what good would that have done?

Nik: (turning back to her) She needs you!

Hannah: Oh, she does not. No... she needs the opposite of me. (she frowns) Wait.... That's not right. She needs ... she doesn't need... She needs -- No. She the opposite of needs me. (She shakes her head) Maybe.

Nik: Hannah...

Hannah: (suddenly angry) YOU DON'T GET TO JUDGE ME! You don't get to just waltz in here after being God knows where all day, and start telling me I'm handling this all wrong. I KNOW I'm handling this wrong. But you know what? Off your little island, lots of people handle stuff like this. You know, the question isn't why am I drinking. The question is why wasn't I before.

Nik: You can't... you can't handle what might happen if you're drunk! And what about Emily --

Hannah: I know, I'm a terrible aunt. But I told you that before everything happened, didn't I?

Nik: You can't keep doing this.

Hannah: Keep doing this? I'm not keeping doing anything. This is a one shot deal. I was very responsible about it. I decided tonight I would get drunk, and ... well, I didn't really think I'd see you, you know? I'm mean... it's dark now. You hadn't come looking for me---

Nik: Yeah, and what the hell is that about? You just left the hospital without telling me?

Hannah: (over-enunciating) You were caring for your brother. How is he, anyway?

Nik: (muttering) I don't know.

Hannah: (pulling herself up to her feet with the assistance of the counter.) I'm sure he'll be just fine... For now.

Nik: What does that mean?

Hannah: (She puts a finger to her lips) Shhhh.... (She stops and listens to the dark) You never know who might be listening. (Nikolas looks at her, suddenly putting the pieces together)

Nik: Oh my God.

Hannah: No, no, no.... I don't know that. I don't know anything... anymore... (She smiles slightly) Hey, that's in a song.....

Nik: (getting frustrated) Hannah!

Hannah: (heavily) Sorry. Sorry, I'm really acting much more drunk than I am. I do that. So people won't make me talk. (She takes a deep breath) I'm never as drunk as I seem. (She touches her nose with the tip of her finger) See?

Nik: Not really.

Hannah: (moving past him into the living room) Just stop yelling at me, Ok? If someone tries to kill Lucky, I'll promise not to yell at you. (Nikolas looks at her, incredulous)

Nik: Someone DID try to kill Lucky.

Hannah: (sitting down) No.... (She stops, realizing she's this far from making a huge mistake. She freezes, a chill coming over her. She almost blew it, Helena would have killed Emily for sure. She has to back peddle) Or... Well, I guess we don't know.

Nik: No, you're right.... Helena was probably coming after Emily, that's who she was threatening.

Hannah: (carefully) No. It... It wasn't her.

Nik: What?

Hannah: I got another note... It wasn't her. (Nikolas looks at her like she's crazy)

Nik: What do you mean?

Hannah: I... (she frowns) Not now, Ok?

Nik: What do you mean?

Hannah: I can't TALK about it now. (Nikolas stops and looks around the apartment. He suddenly turns and head to the bedroom. He emerges a moment later, having searched the place, then heads down the hall to the bath room. Hannah stares numbly in front of her, her heart pounding. Helena is going to kill her... and with this woman, that's not an exaggeration. She doesn't even know if she's being bugged, not for certain... and if she tell Nikolas what Helena told her to, she can't guarantee that he won't let it slip that she's told him everything. Why didn't she think of that earlier? Nikolas comes back into the room.)

Nik: There's no one here.

Hannah: I know.

Nik: Then why did you let me look?

Hannah: (barely audible) You wouldn't have believed me.

Nik: Hannah ....

Hannah: Don't! Please, let's not talk about this, please please please please.... (Her voice cracks and before she even realizes it's going to happen, hot tears are spilling down her cheeks) I can't. I can't talk tonight, I just can't do it.... (Nikolas is hit hard by a wave of guilt and he moves to her quickly, pulling her into an embrace on the couch. Hannah nearly crawls into his lap, like a frightened child, and clings to him, weeping uncontrollably against his shoulder. Nikolas holds her tightly, until the tears finally slow)

Nik: I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, I ... This isn't an excuse. I had a bad day.

Hannah: (sniffling) I know... Tell me about it?

Nik: You don't want to hear.

Hannah: I want to hear anything that has nothing to do with right now.

Nik: I... god. I just don't know what's going on with Lucky.

Hannah: That's not news. (Nikolas tenses, and Hannah regrets the flip remark. She raises her head and kisses him gently, lightly brushing her lips against his) I'm sorry. I know you're worried. (Her heart begins to race.. A part of her brain urging her on.. This will placate Helena... this might cover her earlier slip)

Nik: I just... I found a gun. He has a gun. (Hannah freezes. Oh, no... She feels crippling guilt. She pulls herself up, kneeling on the couch, and moves very carefully so that she is straddling him. She lowers her head to his and kisses him softly. Nikolas doesn't respond, looking at her like she's lost her mind) Hannah.

Hannah: Not tonight.

Nik: (pained) Hannah!

Hannah: (lowering to kiss his neck) No.

Nik: What's .... (he stops and closes his eyes as she trails light kisses up his neck until she reaches his ear)

Hannah: (whispering) Have you read Dracula? (Nikolas, alarmed by her proximity to his neck, pushes her back)

Nik: What is going on with you?

Hannah: (regular voice) Just answer. (Nikolas looks at her confused. She kisses him again, her new answer to every moment where he doesn't know what to say. Nikolas submits to the kiss this time, curiosity getting the better of him)

Nik: If I hadn't before I came here, I would have had to in order to understand half the jokes people make about my family.

Hannah: (quietly) A little gothic. (She lowers to kiss his neck again, the same slow kisses she had made on the other side, speaking very softly between kisses) Do you remember Mina? (Nikolas groans slightly, losing his grip on the conversation)

Nik: Uh..... Yes.

Hannah: (whispering, her breathe hot and thick with alcohol against his neck) She told them... near the end... remember? (Nikolas is very close to not remembering much of anything, as she presses against him)

Nik: What?

Hannah: (moving back to his mouth) Near the end. Think about it. (She kisses him again, deeply)

Nik: (breathlessly) This isn't fair, asking me to think.

Hannah: (lowering her head to his ear again, and whispering yet again) She tells them not to tell her anything.... (Nikolas opens his eyes with a start, the reference coming back to him. Mina, having become one of Dracula's victims, tells them not to plan in front of her.... Dracula can read her thoughts. He pushes her back.)

Nik: Hannah!

Hannah: (Shaking her head) It's too late. (She leans down and kisses him again, with mounting passion. Nikolas finally responds to the kiss, feverishly, as this information sinks in. He grips her face in his hands. She pulls back, finally and looks at him, tears in her eyes) Just make love to me. That can be ours.

Lucky's room.

Late at night, Laura sits in Lucky's room, watching him sleep. She's not sure exactly what is keeping her here, except that she doesn't want to be anywhere else. She leans back in the chair, letting her eyes close.... Luke is somewhere in the house pacing, or out on the porch smoking, Lulu is in bed, and for the first time, she feels like things have slowed down and she can sit here, timing her life by the rhythm of Lucky's breathing.

Which has changed. His breathing, previously deep and steady, is now coming in shorter gasps, almost sounding pained. She sits up straight. Lucky's face seems troubled to her and she opens her mouth to say his name, though no sound comes out. He makes an odd groaning/moaning noise, then suddenly, without any warning, sits bolt upright, his breathing now very hard, almost panting. She stares at him in terror.

Laura: Lucky? (Lucky jumps, then looks over at her)

Lucky: (falling back onto the bed) Oh, God.

Laura: Are you Ok? (Lucky takes a moment to catch his breath)

Lucky: (haltingly) For some reason, every time I wake up today, someone is watching me.

Laura: I didn't want to leave you alone.

Lucky: (tersely) Even if I want to be alone? (He stops and sighs) What time is it?

Laura: Around midnight.

Lucky: Around... how ... never mind. (He closes his eyes again.) I think I've had about twenty hours sleep today.

Laura: You need it. (Lucky doesn't respond) Were you having a bad dream?

Lucky: No... (Lucky closes his eyes tight, trying to block out all memory of whatever it was he just experience. It wasn't a dream. There were no pictures. It was like his subconscious couldn't even be bothered to come up with images, so it just kept hammering away at him, with some long monologue that got louder and louder until he woke up. He desperately wants to go back to sleep, but has no desire to return to that place. He opens his eyes and looks at his mother, who is eying him with grave concern. That alone makes him feel sick, and he rolls over, his back to her) I just ... Have to stop thinking. (Laura gets up and comes over to the bed)

Laura: (disturbed) Are you hungry? (Lucky rolls back onto his back and stares hard at the ceiling)

Lucky: (firmly) No food.

Laura: I brought up some orange juice... (Lucky sighs and attempts to push himself up, but his arms protest, and he sinks back onto the bed.)

Lucky: I think I'd rather just not move.

Laura: Oh.... Does it hurt that much?

Lucky: (dully) I was hit by a car. (Laura looks down at him, her heart aching, then kneels by his beside)

Laura: (quietly) Let me help you. (Lucky is hit harder by these words than he wants to be. After a moment he nods, and allows her to help him sit up. She sits on the edge of the bed, and hands him the orange juice, along with a couple of the horse-pill prescription buffered aspirin she had already laid out for him. He looks at them warily.)

Lucky: (muttering) They actually expect me to swallow those? (Laura smiles slightly)

Laura: It's just aspirin. (Lucky looks at her suspiciously)

Lucky: Right.

Laura: No, it is. I promise you. Here. (She takes his hand and places the pills in it. Lucky looks down at them. Even in the pitch black, the bright orange color seems to glow)

Lucky: Fine. (He tosses them into his mouth and takes the juice from her. The pills go down easier than expected, and the coolness of the juice spreads through him, causing him to realize that he really did need it. He downs it quickly. His head spins slightly from lack of oxygen and he takes a very purposeful breath) I hate this.

Laura: (smiling) You always hate being sick.

Lucky: (heavily) Who LIKES being sick?

Laura: oh... I don't' know. I used to like the attention when I was a kid. (Lucky nods slightly. He's still exhausted. He puts his arms down to lower himself back onto the bed, but winces in pain. He sits up again, and looks down at his arms. They're useless to him right now. Lowering and raising hurts too much, and its' about the only thing he needs them to do. He closes his eyes and lets himself fall back onto the pillow. Laura looks at him in concern)

Lucky: (with now familiar thickness) I can't do anything.

Laura: Well, that's why you're here. (Lucky groans) Lucky. (She takes his hand in both of hers. Lucky doesn't resist or protest) I know how hard it must have been for you to come back here. I know... Well, you've told me how difficult it is for you to be here right now. (Lucky nods slightly. He doesn't want to get into this. Laura moves one hand up to his face and strokes his cheek tenderly) You should get some more sleep. Bobbie said you should feel a bit better in the morning. Right now sleep is the best thing for you. (Lucky doesn't respond.) Lucky? (Again, no sign of comprehension. She sighs heavily and cups the side of his face, staring down at the familiar features of her son's face. He really hasn't changed much... it's easier to see when he's asleep, when his features soften a little. She lets out a long breath, speaking quietly) Oh, do I love you, Lucky. I wish you could understand that. Or find the right words.... Just to tell you, you could never be second with me... (she sighs, turning slightly from the bed, still talking to him, in hushed tones, mostly attempting to sort things out for herself) I know I made horrible mistakes. (She swallows hard) I.... I don't know how to make them up to you. (She feels all too familiar tears come to her eyes) I don't know how I could even start... Anything I try just makes you more upset, pushes you further away from me. And I can't... I can't do it anymore. (She exhales heavily, letting the silence of the room envelop her a moment. When she speaks again her voice is sad, but much steadier). That doesn't matter. You can't do it anymore, and I understand that. And I have to make it stop, somehow. (She shakes her head) I always relied on you more than I should have.... You and Luke were all I had for so long. Just that and memories of places I couldn't go anymore. Sometimes... oh.. I remember, when we had settled in Washington State... just before.... New Jersey, I think.... (She laughs slightly) Why do I try to remember that? What place came in what order... (She sighs) We were so used to having months and that time, it was only weeks. And the day I realized we had to move again, I just sat down on the couch and thought "I'll never get up again. I can't do it, I'm at the end of my rope." and you came down the stairs with that back pack -- it was almost bigger than you were. (She smiles slightly at the memory) And you looked at me so expectantly. Like there wasn't a problem in the world. You'd just started school! I'd lost track of how many schools we'd sent you to at that point. You liked that one, you'd been there two weeks, and here we were pulling you out again. And you were ready, again. Just go, just get up and move, that's all there was to it for you. I looked at the way you handled it. Every move, every time you left people, every time you adjusted to a new time zone, and a new name. And if my eight year old son could keep picking up and moving on, without ever a question or a complaint, how could I not keep going? Not that there was ever in choice... but whenever I wavered, I looked at you. I watched you adapt all over again. And I knew I had to do it too. That was the only name I had that stayed the same from place to place... Mom.

(She falls into silence, thinking about this)

Lucky: Mom.... Do you think I'm asleep? (Laura jumps)

Laura: Lucky... I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to --

Lucky: Cause... if you do... Then why are you saying all this stuff now?

Laura: Oh, Lucky. (She looks down at him. He's eying her with a mixture of pain, anger and confusion... a looks she's coming to know too well) I... I never knew how to say it to you.

Lucky: (upset) You just... say it.

Laura: I didn't feel like there was room for me to speak. (Lucky turns his head away, tears coming to his eyes. Damnit. This is exactly why he didn't want to come back here)

Lucky: Never? (He laughs bitterly) I guess that's my fault too.

Laura: (horrified) Lucky! No... No, none of this is your fault, do you hear me? (Lucky buries his face against the pillow. He can't do this right now) None of it. (Lucky doesn't respond. She takes a deep breath and steels herself to say what it seems she should have years ago.) It's true, Lucky. You've always been able to handle anything life threw at you. And I've depended on that in ways I can't even begin to describe to you. I got used to it. And I expected things no one would ever expect from a child from you... because you were so much more than just my son. Do you understand that? Do you really understand how much I love you? (Lucky is just a goner at this point. He pulls the pillow over his face, but can't stop himself from crying into it. Sobbing, like some orphaned child. Laura, without thinking of the ramifications, instinctively pulls him up and into her arms and Lucky hold her with startling ferocity, letting himself cry against her. Laura's heart moves into her throat and tears spill from her own eyes) Oh, my god, you don't do you? You don't really know. (She begins to cry easily as hard as he is). I'm so sorry, Lucky. I never meant to make you feel second to anything. Never. It just... breaks my heart. (Lucky tries valiantly to stop crying, but he can't. Everything is building up in him, it's like a dam has broken, and he's being washed away. He buries his face against her shoulder, wanting to somehow disappear. Just not be here anymore, not be needing her this much. She strokes his hair, and rocks him slightly, as if he were a young child again. He lets his arms go limp around her, exhausted. His tears finally slow, everything slows, and he can feel himself slipping into darkness again, gratefully surrendering to it. Laura kisses the top of his head, still rocking him) It's over, Lucky. It has to end here...