Final
Phase, a
He
thought he understood betrayal. His father figure, the man he'd thought was his
father who was actually his uncle, had redefined the word in ways that had torn
Nikolas Cassadine to pieces and left him adrift. It was even worse than his
grandmother's schemes. She was horrible enough, kidnapping and brainwashing his
brother, trying to get Nikolas himself confined to a madhouse, nearly killing
his cousin Alexis.
But
when Stefan allowed Nikolas to think he was dead, allowed him to grieve, all
for the sake of a score against
It
couldn't happen soon enough, for all the hell they put everyone else through.
He
stared around the broken and scattered remains of his sitting room, ignoring
Gia hovering worriedly in the background, and stalked out the door. Riding
helped. Up on his horse, tearing through the trails in the hills outside Port
Charles, nothing existed but the wind and the movement. No pain. No loss. No
betrayal. No ties to anything or anyone.
It
was better that way.
When
he got back to the house, to his dim surprise, Gia had actually cleaned up his
mess. He stumbled upstairs, drained and tired, pulling his clothes off as he
wandered into his bedroom.
She
was lying between the sheets, naked but for an inviting smile and liquid dark
eyes. He climbed in next to her. For a few stolen hours he lost himself in her
and she was almost as effective in separating his mind from reality as the wind
and the wilderness.
An
invisible wall rose between him and the rest of the world, even as he was
moving over her, even as she was clawing his skin and bucking beneath him. When
it was over, she fell asleep next to him. He looked down at her face, empty for
once of artifice and manipulation, and wondered why he bothered. He couldn't
feel anything but vague pity and physical exhaustion. Inching away from her
until they were no longer touching, he turned on his side facing the window and
watched the sky until morning.
The
next few weeks were strange. Gia tried to mother him, and he let her, mainly
because it was too much trouble to avoid her. He cried, a few times, and he
raged, more often, but for the most part he simply drifted. Gia and Elizabeth
went head to head over a modeling job and he tried not to get in the middle of
their silly competition. Lucky was busy with his photography and
The
wall grew higher and thicker.
Stefan
tried to talk to him, even tried to intimidate Laura into intervening. Funny,
but Nikolas had never thought of Stefan as stupid before. None of it worked, of
course. He'd heard the arguments too many times, and when Stefan begged, when
Stefan cried, all he could feel was a distant anger coupled with disgust. How
gullible did Stefan think he was? He had been, in the past. That was all over
now.
He
withdrew into himself, putting on an act for Laura, avoiding Lucky and
None
of it mattered.
Luke
threw another shot of whiskey down his throat and grimaced, more at the crazy
way his thoughts chased each other than at the fire racing down his throat to
warm the pit of his belly. He had to crack those disks. He was no closer to
decoding them than before he'd stolen the damned things from the safe deposit
box in
Too
bad he couldn't get his kid to believe it. Closing his eyes, he relived the
latest fiasco of a confrontation with Lucky. The boy'd practically gone for his
throat. Luke thought back to what Doctor Collins had said about watching for
strange reactions from Lucky, to see if there was any indication what the
buried trigger might be for
Got
it from his dad. Hell of a thing to pass on to his kid.
He
gulped down the rest of the rot-gut in his glass and glared down at the papers
stacked haphazardly all over his desk top. He'd been kicking this around in his
brain for too damned long, and he had a sneaking suspicion he was running out
of time. He didn't want to do it, but it looked like he had to go talk to the
only person he knew who could really help. Laura hadn't been any good. Lucky'd
been almost as angry with her as he had with Luke. No, this wasn't a case when
he'd listen to his parents.
Luke
sighed. Strode to the door, locked it behind him, and headed off to find
Lucky's half-brother. Much as he couldn't stand the little punk,
Nikolas
looked up when the door to L & B opened. Only years of training kept his
composure intact. What business could Luke have with Ned? Or Chloe? Or even
Alexis? Ned was out on a gig. Chloe was off sketching. Alexis was in court.
That just left himself. He couldn't think of anything Luke might want of him,
although one could never tell what worm was eating Luke's brain at any given
moment.
"May
I help you?" he asked with scrupulous civility.
Luke
fidgeted before perching with studied nonchalance on the arm of the sofa.
Nikolas stared at him. Luke looked all over the studio before glaring at a
point somewhere behind and above Nikolas' left shoulder.
"Man,
this is tougher than I thought it'd be."
When
nothing more was forthcoming, Nikolas put the contracts he'd been studying
aside and watched Luke warily. Luke's nervous movements looked uncannily
familiar, and he realized it was a mannerism Lucky had inherited from his
father. The thought made him tense up slightly. He didn’t like reminders of the
blood he didn't share with his brother. He didn't trust Luke.
"What's
wrong, Luke? Is it Lucky? Has
Luke's
eyes flickered toward him, then back to the spot behind him. "You could
say that. She messed with his mind."
Nikolas
forced himself to stay calm. "We know that. He's worked through that with
Kevin Collins. He has a handle on it. Why are you here now? Has something new
happened?" Dread was gathering in his stomach.
"Not
new, same old, same old, but about to get ratcheted up a notch or six."
"Speak plainly!" Nikolas barked at him. Luke blinked, then looked
directly at him and held the look for the first time since coming into the
studio. The normally arrogant blue eyes were oddly unsure.
"She
left something behind. Deeper programming, set to trigger on her command, and
set him on a search and destroy mission. And I think she's about to pull that
trigger."
The
wall that had been thickening around Nikolas for weeks wavered, and a crack
appeared. He wouldn't get drawn back into Luke and Helena's war, no. But he
would do whatever he could to protect his brother.
"I
know. Why are you telling me this now?"
Blue
eyes shifted away again, and a faint blush washed over Luke's face. "Uhm,
well. Yeah. That's the tough part." He cleared his throat, then said in a
rush, "I know you kept her from hurting him last time by making sure you'd
be his first target and I just need to know that that's still the case and I
don't have to do anything drastic like buy kevlar for Lulu or lock Lucky up in
a stone cage until the murderous impulses pass."
A
moment passed in silence heavy enough to burst eardrums. It was Nikolas' turn
to swallow before he could speak. "How, precisely, did you know
that?" He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask if Luke knew that he and
Lucky had made love.
"Tailed
The
only thing Nikolas could think to say wasn't anything Luke should hear. Most of
it was curses, in Greek, French, German and English, a litany of disbelieving
anger. At
"Shit,"
Luke interjected disgustedly when Nikolas didn't respond. "Never thought
I'd see the day when I was rooting for my son to have a fling with his
half-brother. Sure never thought I'd see the day when I was encouraging any
Cassadine to take a Spencer to bed."
"But
you are," Nikolas said absently, busy mentally castigating himself for his
carelessness. A choking sound brought him back to the present. Luke's face was
an unbecoming shade of puce. "Don't stroke out, Luke. I know what I have
to do to make sure
Luke
nodded, flashed a look at him once more, then got up and practically ran out
the door. Nikolas stared sightlessly after him.
The
wall cracked all the way down the middle, and the pain it had been holding out
rushed in, nearly drowning him. For the first time since he'd realized the
depth of his family's betrayals, he cried and truly felt it. The tears ripped
at his heart and closed his throat.
When
he'd cried himself dry, he felt empty. Curled up on the sofa, his face buried
in the pillow, he took deep breaths and forced himself to look past his own
pain. Breathing got easier as he made himself see past his own needs, past the
easy selfishness of Gia, and see the gulf he'd allowed to grow between himself
and Lucky. It had to be bridged.
Immediately.
He
caught up with Lucky at Kelly's. His brother was hunched over a cup of coffee
at a far table, oblivious to the world. Nikolas looked a question over at
Emily, who shrugged helplessly and shot a worried glance over at Lucky.
Interpreting it to mean his brother wasn't talking, Nikolas walked over and
stood beside him, not saying a word.
Eventually
Lucky twitched, as if coming back from very far away, and twisted to glare up
at Nikolas. When he saw who it was the glare softened, but the underlying anger
and hurt remained.
"Don't
just stand there," Lucky grumbled. "Sit if you're gonna."
Nikolas
did, not taking his eyes from his brother. "What happened? Can you talk
about it?"
The glare was back full force. "What makes you think anything
happened?" Lucky asked his coffee cup. Nikolas answered anyway.
"Because
you look like you want to put your fist through a wall. Is it Jason?" Shot
in the dark, and a bull's-eye, from Lucky's reaction. For an instant, Nikolas
thought his brother was going to launch himself over the table at him.
"Why
the hell did you lie to me, Nikolas?" Before Nikolas could blink, much
less ask what on Earth Lucky was talking about, his brother plowed on.
"Telling me Elizabeth wasn't upstairs with Jason, when she was. You
and Gia, tag-teaming me, making me think it was all in my head when she was up
there with him all the time!"
Nikolas
squinted at Lucky, trying to make sense of the tirade. "What are you
talking about, Lucky? She wasn't there. She wouldn't do that to you."
Lucky opened his mouth to yell some more, then looked harder at Nikolas and
calmed down a degree. "You didn't know."
His
bewilderment was plain. It matched Nikolas'. "Didn't know what? What are
you talking about?" he repeated.
Lucky
sighed, the sound coming from the depths of his soul. Nikolas leaned forward.
"She was up there with him. I went up to his room trying to find him. To apologize."
The words were bitter. "He wasn't there but he left his door unlocked.
Pretty careless for a mob guy, huh?" The attempt at humor didn't override
the anger. "Her gloves, from the photo shoot. They were on his desk."
Nikolas felt like he'd been sucker-punched. No wonder Lucky was off-kilter. He
believed
Ripe
for the plucking.
His
eyes widening, Nikolas leaned back in his seat and re-evaluated the timing of
Luke's visit. It made sense. If ever there was a perfect time for his
grandmother to attack, this was it. Lucky was more defenseless than he'd been
at any time since he'd returned home. It was Nikolas' fault for being
distracted with his own heartache and not noticing how vulnerable his brother
had become. He was reaching out to cover Lucky's hand with his when a voice
right next to the table startled them both.
"Lucky,
Nikolas, can I get you anything?" Emily, looking concerned, big eyes
bouncing from one to the other like an unhappy puppy, trying to help. Lucky
ducked his head and didn't answer. Emily stared at him helplessly, then looked
over at Nikolas.
"No,
thank you, Emily," he responded on cue. "We're okay."
"Speak for yourself," Lucky mumbled. Nikolas quirked a grin at his
brother's downbent head, then shook his head at Emily, waving her off. She
eventually took the hint and stopped hovering.
"Come
upstairs with me?" The question popped out before Nikolas could think of a
way to phrase it more eloquently. Lucky's head rose and fierce blue eyes
scorched him.
"Why?
You think I need you?" Beneath the belligerence was a trace of the need
Lucky was so determined to deny. Nikolas shrugged one shoulder.
"I
need you. And yes," he answered softly, leaning forward over the table and
returning the glare with an intense stare of his own, "I think you need me
too."
He
could see the denial on the tip of Lucky's tongue, and he reached over with one
hand, tracing the edge of Lucky's knuckles with the tip of his finger. The
words stuttered to a stop in Lucky's mouth. The heat in his eyes changed,
mutating in that instant from anger and frustration to lust with more than a hint
of love. Nikolas let his own want show, and Lucky growled under his breath.
Pulling
his hand away, he tossed a five on the table and headed for the stairs, Nikolas
on his heels. For once, Nikolas didn't give a damn what impression they were
leaving on the rest of the customers in the diner, or what conclusions Emily
might draw. Along with the wall being breached, so had all his defenses, and he
needed Lucky as much if not more than Lucky needed him.
The
door shut behind him and Lucky turned on him, pinning him to the door and
leaning against him. Nikolas stared into the face so close to his every feature
was fuzzy except for the clear blue heat of Lucky's eyes. The anger was still
obvious in Lucky's expression, warring with desire. Nikolas deliberately relaxed
his body, meeting his brother's aggression with understanding and invitation.
Lucky
froze in place, hands locked in Nikolas' hair, breathing over Nikolas' lips.
They stood there for long moments before the anger washed out of Lucky, leaving
his expression soft and his body swaying against Nikolas. His fingers relaxed
their death grip and trailed through Nikolas' hair, curving behind his skull
and pulling his head forward until their mouths met.
Nikolas
met his advance with restrained eagerness. There was more at stake there than
simple passion. He had a bridge to rebuild, and he would use his body and his
actions to remind Lucky how much he was loved. That he wasn't alone. To block
any and all access
Beginning
with Nikolas.
They
moved together, steps coordinated by Nikolas, still kissing as they shuffled to
the side of the bed. Once there, Lucky made to pull Nikolas to the mattress,
and Nikolas stilled his movement with the gentle pressure of his hands.
"Slowly,
Lucky," he whispered. He pulled the light blue tee shirt over Lucky's
head, ruffling his hair playfully when it was free, coaxing a smile to his
brother's too-serious face. The light touches of his hands as he stripped Lucky
set the tone for the moment, freeing their passion but taming it with
affectionate play.
At
the juncture of hip and waist, the back of the knee, the small of the back,
Nikolas took time to tickle, nip and stroke. Lucky twisted and jumped under his
hands and mouth, laughing and moaning in turn. The small sounds and involuntary
movements warmed Nikolas all the way through, crumbling the remains of his
defenses and leaving him completely open to the love he needed to give, the love
he was receiving in turn.
Lucky's
hands were just as busy, pulling at his sweater, sliding down his trousers and
into his shorts, teasing touches ramping the heat up without sending them over
the edge. They fell together on the bed, wrestling to finish stripping one
another, shoes, socks and shorts flying every which way. By the time they got
one another naked, they were head to toe, and reaching out to lick and suck was
the natural extension of their relative positions.
Nikolas
nearly laughed as Lucky's hair brushed against his stomach, tickling him. Then
Lucky's left hand caught his, clutching it between them as Lucky's right arm
snaked around his hips to pull their bodies tightly together. As wet heat
engulfed his erection, Nikolas ran his right hand between Lucky's parted
thighs, along his ass, probing the opening there as he swallowed Lucky's cock
greedily.
Too
soon, he was too close. Lucky's tongue sliding over the head of his cock was
distracting Nikolas from what he really wanted to do for his brother, so he
unclenched his hand from Lucky's and tangled his fingers in Lucky's hair.
Pushing him away literally hurt, but he pulled away in turn and looked down
into Lucky's confused face. His hair was plastered against his forehead with
sweat, and his lips were swollen and wet. Nikolas groaned involuntarily and
Lucky beamed at him.
"Not
yet, please." He tugged upward with his hold in Lucky's hair, and Lucky
swarmed up his body, kissing as he came. Nikolas groaned again, then took
Lucky's mouth in a fierce kiss. They were both breathless when they broke
apart.
"What
do you want?" Lucky asked him, the movement of his mouth against Nikolas'
one of the most erotic sensations he'd ever known.
"I
want you," he gasped as Lucky moved against him, cocks nudging one another,
"to lie back and," another gasp as Lucky arched against him, trapping
his balls against his thigh, "enjoy yourself."
"Oh,
man," Lucky started to protest. Nikolas slid down his body before he could
finish, untangling his fingers from Lucky's hair and using them to good effect
on Lucky's nipples as he left open-mouthed kisses all the way down Lucky's
chest. The next attempt at words was nonsensical babble that got louder as
Nikolas plunged down on Lucky's cock, swallowing it to the root.
Nudging
Lucky's thighs back apart, Nikolas caught sweat and saliva on his fingers then
slid his hand back to its earlier resting place between the tensed buttocks to
work at the clenching hole. He timed his probing fingers with swallowing around
Lucky's cock, setting a rhythm that had his brother screaming into a clenched
fist in no time. Lucky's other hand was kneading Nikolas' shoulder hard enough
to leave bruises. Nikolas didn't mind.
Up,
over, down and around, then he started the cycle all over again. Lips, suction,
the graze of teeth over the vein and below the glans, slick of the tip of his
tongue over the slit then slide all the way back down, sucking hard as he went.
His fingers were buried to the knuckle in Lucky's ass now, scissoring apart.
Lucky was bucking helplessly between Nikolas' mouth and his hand, muttering
what sounded like muffled prayers into the palm of his own hand.
Opening
his mouth wide, Nikolas slid it down the length of Lucky's cock, allowing
saliva to sluice down over Lucky's testicles and back along the crease of his
ass, wetting the working of his fingers in Lucky's hole. The muscle tightened
then gave around them, tightened again then relaxed further as Nikolas lapped
at Lucky's balls. Mouthing them gently, shifting them from side to side with
his tongue, he closed his eyes and smiled internally at the hitch in Lucky's
breathing and the complete incoherence of the mumbling above his head.
The
balls under his tongue began to quiver, and he used his other hand to massage
the top of Lucky's cock and his glans forcefully. Nikolas could feel Lucky's
climax building, and he worked harder at the head of Lucky's cock with his
hand, the tensing sac with his mouth, sucking gently. His other hand drove in
hard, fingers stretching as far as they could, and Lucky howled, head falling
back and hands flying out, catching the head board and hanging on for dear life
as his body spasmed.
Nikolas
drew back, hands still working his brother front and back, catching as much of
the ejaculate in his palm as he could, watching Lucky's face as he came. His
eyes were screwed up tightly, his mouth open, sweat streaking down his cheeks
and temples. His lips were reddened, matching the flush in his cheeks that
spread across his throat to his chest. He was incredibly beautiful. When he
collapsed back against the sheets, Nikolas continued to caress him, bringing
him down slowly from his orgasm.
Hazy
blue eyes opened and stared up at him. A lazy grin played around Lucky's mouth.
He looked relaxed, and happier than Nikolas could remember seeing him for some
time. It had been too long since they'd been together. The sight of his
brother's satiation caused Nikolas' own erection to ache. He leaned up to kiss
Lucky's smile, then brought his sticky hand back between Lucky's thighs to join
the hand still buried in Lucky's ass.
"Oh,
yeah," Lucky murmured, spreading his thighs helpfully. Nikolas slid one
hand out of Lucky's ass and slid the other in without pause, slicking Lucky's
ejaculate into his hole. It was still pulsing with the aftershocks of Lucky's
orgasm, and Nikolas moaned in concert with Lucky. "So good, man, so good.
C'mon, Nikolas, put it in me now."
"For
a guy who just had his mind blown, you're pretty pushy," Nikolas laughed
at him. Lucky grinned back and rotated his hips, using the leverage of his
heels against the mattress to push himself harder onto Nikolas' hand.
"Ask
or you don't get," Lucky reminded him. Nikolas huffed a laugh that turned
to a groan when Lucky reached out and ran two fingers down the length of his
leaking cock.
"Don't
touch or you won't have anything to get," Nikolas warned him. Lucky
immediately clasped his knees in his hands and pulled his legs back, exposing
himself completely. Nikolas stared down at Lucky's body, the hole stretched
around his fingers sucking at them like a hungry mouth. Every nerve in his body
twitched. He worked his fingers out of Lucky's hole, lined up his cock and
pushed it in with one strong thrust.
"Fuck,
yeah!" Lucky gasped, releasing his knees to wind his legs around Nikolas'
waist and clutching Nikolas' biceps instead. "Go on, man, do it!"
Not
that Nikolas needed any encouragement. Fully seated, he rested there for a
moment, then leaned down and kissed Lucky, grinding slowly into him. Lucky
moaned into his mouth, tonguing him ravenously and shifting his hips, urging
him wordlessly to move. Nikolas took his cue but set his own pace, slowly
drawing out then slamming back in. He twisted his hips as he thrust, raking the
head of his cock across Lucky's prostate, and gave a feral grin as Lucky's
erection renewed itself.
What
little was left of Nikolas' control finally broke and his rhythm became choppy
as he thrust into Lucky's clenching heat. Lucky kept up uneven but enthusiastic
verbal encouragement, one hand running up and down Nikolas' chest, the other
working at his own cock. Nikolas felt his climax gathering and arched his back,
coming hard enough to cramp all his muscles. When they relaxed, he collapsed,
and caught Lucky's hand moving in the final blur as Lucky joined him in orgasm.
Nikolas couldn't catch his breath, and the knuckles in the solar plexus as
Lucky pumped himself didn't help.
"Ow,"
he complained weakly into the side of Lucky's neck. The explosive snort of
laughter across the top of his head made him grin in return.
"Sorry
'bout that," Lucky murmured, more than half asleep himself.
"S'okay,"
Nikolas assured him, using the last of his strength to shift himself over to
Lucky's side instead of splayed across him like a beached whale.
Lucky
reached down and yanked at the corner of the sheet. Nikolas reached to help
him, burrowing beneath the warm linen before wrapping his arms around his
brother.
"Love
you," he said softly to the ear partially covered by wild tufts of blond
hair. Lucky's arms tightened around him in turn.
"You
too," he said, or that's what it sounded like to Nikolas' fuzzy mind.
Nuzzling into Lucky's shoulder, he smiled as he fell asleep.
He
woke very early the next morning, kissing Lucky awake. Lying side by side, they
used their hands to bring one another off, kissing lazily the whole time.
Dressing by the dim light coming through the window, he dropped a kiss on
Lucky's nose and said lightly, "Get some more sleep, little brother. Call
me if you need me." He dropped a second, deeper kiss on Lucky's mouth and
grinned when he pulled away. "Or even if you don't."
Lucky
was still chuckling, sprawled back against the pillows looking at him, as
Nikolas let himself out and locked the door behind him.
A
startled, quickly muffled squeak brought his head around with a snap.
She
looked a lot like he looked, only with beard burn instead of beard stubble.
He
rubbed his jaw and looked at her. She blushed and looked back. He didn't say
anything. Neither did she. He watched as she turned away, unlocked her room and
let herself inside, still without saying a word.
The
door closed behind her and Nikolas stood in the hall, staring at it for a long
time. She knew. It hadn't surprised her. She knew and she hadn't said anything.
And
she wouldn't. Because if she did, she'd have to say how she knew. Then she'd
have to bring Jason into the mix, and neither one of them were going to do
that. Lucky had enough to deal with as it was. This would not be added to his
burden.
Nikolas
turned and walked down the stairs, headed home for a shower and back to L &
B to finish the business Luke had interrupted the previous day. Gia slept
through his noise. It was just as well.
The
ringing of the telephone woke Lucky from an amazing dream. Fighting his way out
from under the covers, his muscles protested, and he grinned. Not a dream,
after all. Still amazing.
Snatching
the handset up and nearly knocking the telephone onto the floor, he fumbled for
a moment before getting it up to his ear. "Yeah? H'lo?"
"You
have every right to be angry, my dear."
He
didn't think about what he was doing. Couldn't think about anything. All he
could do was feel, and all he could feel was rage. White hot anger ate at his
belly and filled up all the black spaces inside him that had been prepared and
waiting for the past year and a half. His mind shut off and the most primal
part of him surfaced. It wanted blood.
It
would get it.
No
one talked to him on the bus. He didn't see anything beyond a few feet directly
in front of him. He was primed, aimed and launched. Nothing could stop him at
that point but death.
Walking
through the front door of Deception headquarters, he didn't hear Gia's
greeting. Didn't notice as he brushed past her and nearly knocked her off her
feet. Didn't hear her pull a cell phone from her bag and punch a speed dial
button.
"Nikolas,
you better get your butt over here. Lucky's acting really weird."
She
was staring at him as the elevator doors closed. He didn't see that, either.
Carly
was arguing with Elton when Lucky stepped off the elevator. He paid no
attention to them. They weren't important. He rattled the knob to his mother's
office. Eventually, Elton broke off his battle with Carly and fluttered over to
him.
"I'm
so sorry, Lucky, but she's not here yet. She'll be in momentarily if you'd like
to wait."
Lucky
didn't ignore him because Lucky didn't hear him. He rattled the knob some more.
"Hello,
cousin, are you deaf today or just being moody as usual?"
Carly's
voice whined in his ear like an annoying insect. Lucky stopped rattling the
door knob long enough to turn and face her, blocking Elton out completely. The
secretary's hands were waving in the air and his voice was droning on, but
neither Lucky nor Carly paid any attention to him.
"Where
is she?" Lucky's voice sounded strange in his own ears, as if he was
speaking underwater. Carly gave him a guarded look.
"You
okay, cuz? You don't look so good."
The
fire flared inside him. His hand rose and lashed out without conscious thought,
striking Carly along the side of the face and knocking her off her feet.
Elton
shrieked.
Carly
scrambled to her feet, one hand going to her bruised cheek, her eyes wide, as
freaked out as she was angry. "What the fuck are you doing?"
The
second time he hit her, she stayed down. Behind him, he heard Elton's voice on
the telephone, pleading for it to hurry. Programmed response kicked in and he
turned away from Carly, ripping the telephone from Elton's hand and throwing it
across the room. He drew back his fist to punch Elton but the man yelped again
and scuttled under the desk.
Lucky
turned back to Carly, who was sitting huddled against the wall watching him,
wide-eyed with fear. He walked toward her and asked in a perfectly flat tone of
voice, "Where is she?"
"I
dunno." She cried out as he grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet.
"Where
is she?" he asked again. Carly started to shake. He could feel her body
trembling against his side.
"Lucky!"
Her
voice came from behind him. He dropped Carly carelessly, ignoring her now that
his quarry was in sight. Laura stood just inside the foyer, staring at him in
disbelief. He didn't notice anything or anyone else. Not Carly dragging herself
to her feet behind him, not Elton bleating from beneath the desk, not the two
shadows detaching themselves from behind Laura and stepping up beside her.
Only
his prey.
The
instructions were whispering through his brain. He was completely unaware of
the tears now streaming down his face. He pulled the Bowie knife from the
sheath inside his jacket and aimed himself at his target. Her eyes were
impossibly huge, her mouth open as she cried, "NO!" over and over.
It
would soon be finished. All the pain. All the rage. All the blackness eating
him up inside.
One
of the shadows moved, throwing itself between himself and his prey. Lucky tore
his eyes away from his mother's terrified face and looked at Nikolas. His
brother was screaming at him. Words battered him but they made no sense.
That
which he must destroy.
"I
love you." The words choked him. He tasted tears. His hand moved, and
Nikolas' eyes widened as the knife sank deeply into his side. Then the hands
that had been shaking him fell away as Nikolas dropped at his feet. The knife
remained in Lucky's hand. He smelled blood. "I love you," he told the
body lying against his legs, then turned the knife toward his own gut and
shoved inward.
More
hands were on him, pushing him back, pulling at his arm. Getting in the way.
Rage fought through him, nearly overcoming them, but there were too many hands.
Too many voices. He couldn't fight them all.
The
knife fell from numb fingers. His knees gave. Someone caught him before he
joined his brother on the floor, but he didn't feel the arms holding him up.
His eyes stared blindly at nothing. He didn't hear his mother crying, didn't
hear Mac shouting questions or the paramedics bundling him onto a stretcher. He
didn't fight the restraints because he didn't feel them.
Lucky's
body went to
Intellectually,
Stefan knew that Chloe would have nothing more to do with him. Emotionally,
hope sprang eternal. He'd been able to glean some facts about Chloe's
condition, and she'd told him to his face that she was fine (at the same time
that she'd told him to go to hell and leave her alone) but he wasn't convinced.
When she went to the hospital for purposes undisclosed, he followed, hoping for
more information.
He
refused to admit even to himself that he was stalking the woman.
Tony
Jones had been at the Emergency admitting area, so Chloe had gone to talk to
him there, and Stefan had followed. Alexis joined them and he stepped around
the corner, trying to avoid being seen and having to answer inevitable,
uncomfortable questions. His new position gave him a front row view of the
chaos that ensued as two ambulances came tearing into the curving drive,
medical personnel flying over from every direction as stretchers were unloaded
and doctors shouted orders.
The
sight of the body on the first stretcher displaced every thought of Chloe from
Stefan's mind. It was his nephew Nikolas. Looking paler than any man with his
Mediterranean complexion rightfully should. His clothing was covered in blood.
He wasn't moving.
There
was an oxygen mask over his face and bandages along his torso, stained crimson
with freely flowing blood. Surely no single human could lose so much blood and
still live. The paramedics were telling the doctor that it was a stab wound.
Calling out vital statistics that sounded too low to be vital. Then words cut
through the cacophony.
"We're
losing him!"
White-coated
bodies crowded around Nikolas' gurney as it was rushed from sight. Stefan moved
instinctively to follow and was cut off by a second stretcher. He recognized
that boy as well.
Lucky
Spencer.
Blood
on him, but no sign of a wound. Hands tied to the sides of the gurney. Head
back, eyes wide open. Staring. Words were being bandied about over the top of
his gurney as well. "Psychotic episode" and "catatonic" and
"Doctor Collins."
It
made a chilling sort of sense.
He
watched as the medical personnel moved Lucky's also-unmoving form away, with
much less dispatch than had been shown with Nikolas. There was no hurry with
Lucky. He wasn't bleeding to death. He was simply a vegetable.
Stefan
closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He should have known
it would come to this.
"This
is horrible. I can't believe it happened. I can't believe he didn't make
it."
The
words froze Stefan in his tracks, ringing the death knell on his hopes. His
hopes for regaining his nephew's love and trust, his hopes for the future of
his family, his hopes for everything. Gone in the single thrust of a knife,
aimed at his heart by the instrument of his mother's insanity.
He
had nothing left. Nothing at all.
Numbly,
he turned and walked slowly from the hospital. He wasn't aware that he got in
his Jaguar and drove to the docks. Wasn't aware when he walked along the wooden
planking and boarded his mother's yacht. The first conscious move he made was
when he caught her servant Andreas by the scalp and jerked, snapping his spine.
Even that action was more instinct than decision. He left the body where it
fell in the passageway. He opened the door to her study and walked silently up
to where she sat at her desk, reading a letter.
"It's
about time, Andreas, I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost," she
chided without looking up.
"Lost,"
Stefan echoed faintly.
Her
head came up and she stared at him, the flash of shock in her eyes gone as
quickly as it had appeared. "Why, my darling son," she purred.
"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
"You
have destroyed everything," he said calmly. His voice sounded distant even
to himself. She gave him an arch look.
"Such
a romantic, my son."
"I
have nothing left to lose." He walked closer until he stood beside her.
She stared up at him, mock sympathy in her dark eyes.
"Laura
wasn't much of a loss to anyone, my dear." There was an unseemly amount of
amusement in her voice.
"You
caused Lucky to do it."
She
dipped her head once, a queen accepting her accolades.
"You
made him kill Nikolas."
Her
head snapped up so quickly she nearly overbalanced on the chair. "What?"
She was staring at him in shock, her gaze as blank as Lucky Spencer's had been.
"You
made Lucky Spencer into a weapon and you used him to kill Nikolas." With
those carefully controlled words, Stefan reached out and crushed her windpipe
with the fingers of his right hand. His left hand caught her chin and yanked it
to the side, breaking her neck as well. She was dead before he finished the
movement.
"Good-bye,
mother," Stefan said quietly. Before he left the room, he rifled through
her desk, taking with him several documents that would be of use should he
decide to take control of the Cassadine empire, as well as a small timing
device and a lump of gray clay in a metal box.
Taking
a side trip into the engine room, he dragged Andreas' body down the steps and
dropped it next to the gasoline tanks. He placed the gel atop the tank and set
the timer for four minutes. Stepping over the dead man, he climbed wearily back
up the steps and walked down the pier toward the docks.
The
explosion buffeted his back with a concussion of noise and heat. He staggered
slightly but kept walking. Ignoring the sirens coming from a distance, he
pushed indifferently through the people streaming out onto the sidewalk from
the various dockside businesses, gawking at the yacht that was sinking in a
ball of fire beneath the surface of the water.
He
didn't hear the feminine voice calling his name in a questioning manner.
Couldn't hear anything but his mother's voice taunting him that she had won.
She was in hell, now, where she belonged, but before he'd put her there she'd
managed to take everything he ever loved away from him.
The
gun that was never far from reach was out of his pocket and cradled in his palm
without conscious thought. He stopped at a bench, overlooking the water, a few
blocks away from the frenzy at the pier. Staring down at the pistol, he
automatically checked the bullet in the chamber, then slowly raised it to his temple.
"Oh,
my god, Stefan, what are you doing?" Chloe Morgan's voice broke
through the haze of unreality and he started. The gun fell back into his lap
and his finger eased off the trigger.
"Hello,
Chloe." His voice was a normal conversational tone. She stared at him as
if he'd grown another head. Then her gaze softened and she perched next to him
on the bench. He was irresistibly reminded of a bird, alighting on a tree limb,
staring bright-eyed at him.
"Why
would you want to do that, Stefan?" He smiled slightly at the concern in
her voice.
"Why
not?" It wasn't a rhetorical question, and he could see she recognized
that.
"Don't
you think you've hurt Nikolas enough?"
His
smile turned to a grimace of pain, and the laugh he forced out sounded like it
escaped from the jaws of death. "I can't hurt Nikolas any more. None of us
can." He had to swallow before he could continue. Vivid images of his
nephew's body, covered in blood, still and unmoving, painted themselves before
his eyes. "He's dead." His voice broke.
A
small, warm hand covered his, then fingers wrapped around his own ice-cold
hand. "Oh, Stefan." She sounded as if she was on the verge of tears.
"Nikolas isn't dead. He lost a lot of blood, but they got to him in time,
and he's going to be all right."
He was
shaking his head before she finished. "No. I heard. He died. Bobbie said.
They lost him. He died." Perhaps if he repeated it often enough she would
finally understand. Then she would leave him alone so he could finish what
Her
arms wrapped around him, and he breathed in deeply. He loved the smell of her
perfume. Her voice was so close to him it felt as though it was inside him.
"No, you're wrong. He's all right. Alexis and I saw him, Stefan. He's awake,
he's alert. He's a little pale, and rather weak, but he's alive. He's anxious
about Lucky, but he's okay."
It
was beginning to penetrate the fog he was in that, somehow, a miracle had
happened. He drew back far enough to stare into Chloe's face, searching it for
the truth. Clear honesty shone back at him. He started to shake. Her arms
tightened around him. His arms came up around her, and they sat there for a
long time, holding one another.
Perhaps
there would be a future, after all.
The
fire had burned out, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. From a distance,
echoing through the shadows crowding around him, Lucky heard voices. Female
voices thick with tears. Male voices trying for authority, ending in the same
tears the women cried. He wandered for a long time in the gray fog, hearing
voices but not listening.
Not
caring.
Nothing
hurt anymore. There were no aching voids, no pits of blackness waiting to
ambush him. There wasn't anything. No fire, no need, no light. He was cold but
didn't bother shivering. The cold came from within his bones, from the inside
out, so he accepted it as part of himself and kept wandering.
He
was lost.
It
didn't worry him. It was nothing. Being lost, being found, there was no
difference. He didn't know where he was and he didn't care.
One
of the voices sounded familiar.
Another
came through to him. Kevin Collins. Some authority, more than a little
pleading. He felt a twinge of sadness that he'd disappointed Kevin, but it
wasn't strong enough to call him back. He kept wandering.
More
voices. His mother's, which felt strange, somehow, as if she shouldn't be
there. He didn't care enough to think why. Another, his father's. He waited for
a little while, but the anger didn't come. It was gone, along with the fire,
along with thought and place and need. He shrugged, stopped waiting, and
wandered away again.
Other
voices, his Aunt Bobbie, an irritating high drone that he turned from easily.
His cousin Carly, even more irritating, but not enough to raise a response. He
left again, wandering through nothing, lost and uncaring.
Heat
suddenly bit him, and he stared down at his hand. He'd been able to see through
it for days as it grew more and more transparent, a ghost staring through
himself, but this time there was something blocking his sight. A band of heat,
trapping his fingers. He tugged. It moved with him.
He
heard another voice. He recognized it after a little thought. He stood very
still and for the first time he listened. The heat around his hand intensified.
It was impossible. The heat was impossible but the voice was even more
impossible.
Because
Nikolas was dead.
He
knew it, because the one thing he knew in the vast nothingness around him was
that he had caused himself to be alone. He had killed his brother, and that was
why he couldn't leave the shadows. There was nothing waiting for him outside,
to match the nothingness inside, so he might as well stay in the void.
Except
… except the band of heat wouldn't go away, and the voice kept coming for him.
Perhaps
he had gone insane? Was that what the vast emptiness was? There was no pool of
blackness, no instructions whispering to him of destruction using
Was
there?
That
voice, the voice that sounded like Nikolas except that Nikolas was dead, was
asking him questions. Making demands.
Telling
him that he loved him.
He?
Who?
The
question pulled at him in a way none of the other voices had managed. He had to
know who was using Nikolas' voice. The heat from around his hand was traveling
up his arm, and he was becoming more solid the further it traveled. He couldn't
wander any more. He was pinned in place.
The
fog was thinning as he was thickening.
He
made one last attempt to shake off the heat banding his fingers, then clenched
them tightly when the heat receded. The near loss convinced him that he really
didn't want to lose it. The voice faltered, and Lucky felt the first
emotion he'd known since losing himself in the fog.
Panic.
He
couldn't lose the voice. He'd nearly lost the heat, and with it, nearly lost
himself completely. If he lost the voice there would truly be nothing left. He
blinked eyes that had always been open, but this time when they cleared he
didn't see shadows.
He
saw his brother's face.
Warmth
startled him, bursting through his mind as colors came back, as the world
displaced the shadows. His fingers tightened around Nikolas', clutching back as
hard as he was being held. A broad grin split Nikolas' face.
"Hey,
bro'." Weak, but words. Words that meant something, to Lucky as he said
them, to Nikolas as he heard them. Impossibly, the grin widened.
"Welcome
back," Nikolas told him, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
Warmth
spread through his body, clear down to his bones. He smiled back. The smile faltered
as he saw tears gather in Nikolas' eyes. "Whassa matter?" His tongue
felt thick.
"Thought
I'd lost you," Nikolas muttered. "I thought
"No
way, no how," Lucky fired back, voice sounding as furry as his mouth felt.
"You and me 'gainst the world, man."
Nikolas
kept his grin through his tears, and brushed Lucky's hair away from his
forehead, letting his hand linger against Lucky's skin. "Yeah. You and me.
Always."
Lucky
squeezed Nikolas' hand one more time, then closed his eyes and fell asleep.
This time, there was no fog, no cold, and Nikolas was waiting for him when he
woke up. It was more than enough. It was everything.
end