Chapter 126
Blessed are those who show mercy.
They will be shown mercy.
Lucky sat on the edge of his bed with his feet resting on the sideboards and his elbows positioned on top of his knees. He sighed as he held his head in his hands. He'd been physically tired all evening. After Emily had left, he'd felt like a two ton concrete block had landed on his back. The initial excitement of being forgiven and having his girlfriend back had segued into an anxious feeling. He always felt that way when talking about his past, and in that sense it wasn't anything new.
Watching a G-rated rental movie with the
rest of the Spencer-Jones household had been mildly amusing, but he'd excused himself by
A nearby street light reflected into the backyard, and Lucky could see Bobbie's numerous decorative plantings illuminated in the faint, artificial glow. Harley's doghouse stood outlined as a disembodied igloo far from any northern clime. Lucky turned his head and whispered, "Harley."
The dog raised his strong head and glanced in Lucky's direction. He gave a massive sigh plopped his head back to the floor beside the bed. His jowls hung away from his slack mouth with the effects of his sleepiness. Even the dog can sleep better than me, Lucky worried. What if I told Emily too much? What does she need to know? The same as Nikolas and the rest of the family I suppose. Still, I feel exposed, like what if she decides to back out after she thinks it through.
Lucky rubbed his arms and leaned his face against the smooth, cool glass of the window. He fought off a familiar feeling that rose within him, an insistent nervousness punctuated by fear, shame and sick nausea. He paced around his room, walking along the length of the wall, to the door and back to his bed again, his bare feet making soft shuffling noises against the smooth oak floorboards. Harley slept on, blissfully unaware of his master's inner struggles. Lucky glanced at the dog as he ran a hand over his hair. If it weren't so late, I'd take him for a walk to try to get this out of me. Lucky shook his head. I can't stand this. I can't.
On his twentieth pass by the bedroom door, he reached out and turned the crystal doorknob to exit his room. He walked steadily toward the bathroom, consciously avoiding the floorboards that creaked, and shutting the door behind him, being careful not to slam it and wake Lucas and Lulu in their nearby bedrooms. The instant after he turned on the light, he pulled open a bathroom cabinet drawer and peered down into it. There was a jumble of products in the small space - a container of antiperspirant, a package of tissues, acne medicine, a can of foamy shaving cream, and a shaver with a removable razorblade head.
Lucky selected the shaver and turned it between his fingertips. He'd grown tired of using his electric razor as it never shaved close enough, not to mention it had seemed contaminated after Lucas' leg shaving experiments. He hadn't worried about having a sharp object in his possession as it had been a long time since he'd had the urge to cut himself.
Lucky felt more nausea rise within him as he inspected the removable head of the shaver. He sat on top of the toilet seat and took in a deep breath, but nothing seemed to calm him. Why does it have to be this way? I can't talk about stuff without having my guts ripped out. Maybe Emily is better off without me.
Lucky held his breath and made a half hearted slicing motion at his left palm to test the blade. The blade barely touched his skin, but it was sharp and made a shallow cut. Almost immediately, Lucky repeated the motion with more vigor and made a larger, deeper cut beside it. His hand shook, and he took in a sharp breath at feel of the sting.
Dammit! Lucky flung the razor away from him with a disgusted motion, and his eyes filled with tears. I promised Kevin I wouldn’t do this anymore, but it's too late to talk to anybody. I can't sleep, I can't think, I can't walk the dog. He blinked once when a thought came to his mind. Okay. I can do that. Lucky turned out the bathroom light and padded to the stairs, taking them carefully as it was very dark, and he couldn't see well. He felt his way along the stairs by running his hands over the banister.
Lucky walked to the kitchen and opened the door leading to the basement. He turned on the light and carefully walked down the rough wooden steps. He grimaced as the cold concrete of the basement floor felt yucky against the bare soles of his feet, not to mention the ancient basement was always full of a musty, dirty smell. He stopped in front of the exercise gym and sat down on the bench, laying back and grabbing hold of the bars of the bench press.
Up and down he worked the machine, sweating with his activity and not noticing that the weights clanged loudly each time he let them loose with a downward motion of the bar. His teeshirt grew wet with sweat, but he still continued his furious pace, trying to ignore his jangling emotions. He didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs and jumped up to a sitting position on the bench when he heard Tony's voice.
"Lucky, what are you doing down here? It's almost three in the morning, and Bobbie and I woke up to loud, metallic banging noises. Our bedroom is right above this area."
Lucky rubbed his hand over his face to wipe off a generous layer of sweat as he smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd do this. It was too late to walk Harley. I didn't think about the noise."
Tony frowned when he saw the red smear on Lucky's face. He looked down at Lucky's hand and grabbed it, turning it over. "What on earth is this?" he questioned.
Lucky quickly pulled his hand away and frantically wiped it on his teeshirt to hide the blood that seeped over its surface. "Nothing," he said leadenly. "I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stand how I was feeling, so I thought I'd...well, you know. I wasn't thinking I guess. I reached for the shaver, and..."
Tony's worried voice interrupted sharply. "You weren't trying to hurt yourself, were you? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
Lucky gulped as his eyes widened. "No. No, Tony. It's not that. I wasn't trying to kill myself or anything. It's, um, that cutting thing." His cheeks burned with shame, and he raised his shoulder to catch some dripping sweat that ran down his cheek.
Tony's eyes saddened. "We need to talk. Let's go upstairs for a hot chocolate."
Lucky caught Tony's firm tone and nodded wordlessly as he rose from the bench. Tony placed a hand on Lucky's shoulder and gently propelled him forward.
~*~*~*~
"Go wash that hand in hot, soapy water," Tony said as he led Lucky into the kitchen. "I'm going to heat up some water."
Lucky headed for the half bath a few steps away and cringed as he usually did when viewing the old lady decorating left over from the previous owner. I can't wait until Aunt Bobbie repapers in here, he thought as he let the water run and heat up. He winced when the water ran over his two cuts. He soaped up his other hand and hesitated before applying it to his injured palm. Dammit! Why didn't I think of working out on the gym first? As he rinsed off, Lucky reflected that he'd been in such an emotional black hole that he hadn't even been able to pray. Only a few words would form in his mind, and then his thoughts would direct him back to his shame and uncertainty. What was wrong with him? Wasn't he supposed to be getting better?
Lucky dried off his hands and joined Tony at the kitchen table. Tony slid a hot, steaming cup of hot chocolate in his nephew's direction. Lucky took a sip and smiled. "Tastes good even in the summertime."
Tony nodded wordlessly as he sipped from his mug. His face turned serious. "Lucky were you feeling bad because of your discussion with Emily tonight?"
Lucky's face tightened, and he looked
away. "Sort of. It crept up on me. I tried to push it away, but it wouldn't go. Maybe
it was because I basically reviewed everything that's wrong with me. Afterwards, it kind
of stuck with me, and I couldn't get it out of my mind. All the things that've happened to
me, I mean." Lucky coughed and took
another sip of his drink as his eyes glazed over with his memories. "I was running
out of options. I tried everything Kevin suggested, except for talking to somebody. I
mean, it's after
Tony showed his concern that Lucky was so easygoing about taking a razor to his flesh. "Lucky, I just want to make sure that you wake one of us up if you need to talk. I don't want you to feel like you don't have any options. I know it's hard living with the memories, and we're here to help."
Lucky glanced at Tony and looked down again. "You have surgery in the morning. I'm didn't want to wake you up, but look what I've done now. You're awake anyway."
"I can miss an hour of sleep and survive quite well," Tony said. "Besides. There are three adults in this house, all of whom would be willing and able to listen. We're here for you."
Lucky's face sank, and he rested his forehead on his right hand. His eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them away. With his face still down, he said, "I know. I'm trying too hard to be perfect again. Kevin told me to stop doing that, and I agreed, but it's hard. I still don't feel right, not one hundred percent, but I'm trying to act like it." Lucky's voice shook as it trailed away. "I don't want to burden you."
Tony rested his hand on Lucky's wrist to get Lucky to look at him. "You're never a burden. Don't ever think of yourself in those terms. We'll tell you this as often as you need to hear it."
Lucky sighed and finished off his now lukewarm drink. "Thanks, Tony. It seems like I'll need to hear it more often than I should."
"We'll have a family meeting tomorrow and work out a night schedule," Tony suggested. "That way you'll know there's always someone available to talk to."
Lucky nodded and held his hand over his mouth as he succumbed to a fit of coughing. He shook his head, and his eyes teared up from the force of it. "When am I going to feel better?" he wondered aloud.
"It might be a week or so," Tony guessed. "You're supposed to stay in bed for at least half a day over the next week and then return to the day center program the following week."
Lucky rubbed his head and grimaced. "I'm going to be bored to death."
"Why don't you use your time out of bed to visit people?" Tony suggested. "Frisco will be here working on the carriage house. I'm sure he won't mind driving you short distances. Weren't you going to visit the pastor of the church? You talked about it. Now would be a good time."
Lucky nodded. "That's a good idea. I might do that."
Lucky broke out into a grin. "I'm a busy guy. I'm actually busy. Go figure."
Tony rose from the table and reached for Lucky's empty mug. "Feel better?"
"Yeah. I do." Lucky stifled a yawn and glanced at the clock, which hung above the side door. "Thanks for talking to me. It helped."
~*~*~*~
Next
morning...
Nikolas sat back in his rented Mercedes
and let his hired driver lead the way through the
Nikolas crossed his leg and looked out the window at the passing scenery. The view of the hilly terrain was a treat compared to the flatter land and murky waters of Port Charles, and he actually enjoyed surveying the cattle and horses nibbling on grass as the Mercedes sped by. The regular green of the grass and trees calmed his nerves for what might be an onerous task - a visit with his mother.
Nikolas hadn't actually seen her face to face for two long years. His mother had written him letters occasionally, and along with a few phone calls before she'd been sent to prison that was it. At the time, Nikolas hadn't been aware that Laura had dumped Lucky, had abandoned him and had never spoken to him again after leaving Port Charles. In fact, he'd assumed that Lucky was receiving more attention than he, a situation that he'd resigned himself to after several years of hit or miss attempts at closeness with his birth mother. Lucky had been the number one son, and through numerous conversations and fights, Lucky of course had never let Nikolas forget that.
What had gone wrong? It seemed as if Laura were truly unable to maintain a real relationship based on mutual trust and honesty. The allure of games and lies was too great, and she'd always succumbed, choosing adventure, the road, Luke or anyone else over her first born son. He'd never really trusted her again after she'd lied about going on the run, pretending to be dead and not informing him, allowing him grieve alone. Lucky had known, but he hadn't. That's why he'd assumed she'd kept in contact with his younger brother. What a shock it had been to return to Port Charles and discover that his brother had been homeless and totally forgotten, living on the streets and indiscriminately drinking out of liquor bottles. He just wasn't the same brother he'd been before the murder. Even when he'd returned from the compound and had been quiet and reticient, he'd seemed more like Lucky. The final blow had been the arrest of Luke and the scorn of his mother.
Upon his return from the L&B tour, he'd found Lucky to be hesitant, fearful and less desirous of human contact, and it wasn't all mental and physical illness. Of that he was sure. Brick by brick, the revelations concerning Lucky and Laura had cemented a hard spot in Nikolas' heart for the woman who had given birth to him. He'd returned her letters, sent her money to fill her prison account, yet she had beaten and abused his brother off and on for years as if it were a natural course of events, nothing to worry about. Nikolas supposed that Laura was manipulating him, as she seemed to do every man in her life regardless of the relationship. She'd continued using him for her own purposes, and he'd been a fool to allow her.
Nikolas' expression hardened and his eyes glittered with the intensity of his emotions. He stroked his chin while he thought of his mission and the plans he had. Unbeknownst to him, he was the epitome of Stefan Cassadine at that snapshot in time - cool, calculated, classy, and very determined.
~*~*~*~
Lucky patted his plaid swimming trunks with a bemused expression on his face. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this. I feel weird wearing a pair of AJ's swim trunks."
Emily laid her beach towel on a recliner and inspected her boyfriend from head to toe. "AJ has a ton of clothes that he never wears. Those are new. And no, you won't get cooties from them."
"I'm supposed to be resting," Lucky protested.
"You'll get plenty of rest lying on this," Emily answered with a pat on the recliner beside her.
Lucky sat down with a plop. "I have to stay out of the sun. I’m taking an antibiotic."
"See that umbrella? Put it up and sit under it. I have to protect my skin for modeling, so we'll be pale together. I just thought it would be nice to spend some time together in the fresh air. You've been cooped up in the hospital for too long."
"Got that right," Lucky said with exasperation. "It feels good to be out and smelling the breezes. Besides, summer will be over before you know it, and we'll be stuck inside the library with a bunch of books." Lucky put on his dark sunglasses and developed a devilish grin as he watched Emily smoothing on sunscreen. "I think you need some help with that, mademoiselle," he said with a lilt to his voice.
"Okay," Emily said as she turned her back and handed the lotion to Lucky. . She pulled her long, brown hair aside to give him access. "My back will thank you."
"Mmmhmm," Lucky murmured while squeezing the cool, white lotion onto his fingertips. He easily slid his leg over the recliner and sat directly behind Emily. He worked his fingertips over her neck and down her spine, fanning out to spread the lotion over her shoulder blades. He rubbed the lotion into her skin with an easy languor that extended beyond the time necessary for it to sink in. Emily sighed as his fingertips took on a massaging motion.
"Are you my personal masseur?" she asked.
"Sure," Lucky said brightly as he squeezed out more lotion. His hands ran up and down the length of her arms. "You need lots and lots of lotion."
Emily snickered. "You're having too much fun."
"Yep," Lucky agreed with a soft voice as he smoothed his hands over Emily's lower back. He slowly ran his index finger down her vertebrae, one at a time, making her giggle and twist.
"Turn around."
"Yes, sir," Emily said as she maneuvered herself on the recliner and held out her arms for more lotion. Lucky dosed up her arms with lotion, and then concentrated on her bare midriff.
"I'm ticklish!" Emily protested as she kept hopping out of his reach.
"You'll get used to me touching you," Lucky replied airily as he worked his hands up and down her legs.
"If you touch the soles of my feet, I'll kick you," Emily warned.
"Yes, princess," Lucky laughed. "Are you going to sunbathe topless?" he asked jauntily. "Because I volunteer to apply your sun protection. I think you need at least twenty layers of it."
Emily playfully swatted him on the arm. "What is it with you and these public places? Give you a little fresh air, and you're the horniest guy around."
"I think it has more to do with being near you." Lucky finished rubbing the lotion on the exposed area of Emily's chest and leaned back on the recliner, pulling her on top of him. He wrapped his arms around his girl and gently pulled her toward his waiting lips. They eagerly kissed for what seemed like endless minutes with arms, legs and lips intertwined. Lucky finally pulled away with a sigh. "You'd better get up," he said. "Otherwise I'm gonna..."
Emily sat up and gave Lucky his distance. She pecked his lips one last time and smiled. "Okay, love." It was so much more comfortable being with Lucky than it had been with Juan. Lucky was a healthy, red-blooded male, but he wasn't demanding or peevish when they stopped making out. He respected her boundaries, and she respected his. It was comfortable, even in the midst of a boatload of natural sexual tension. They'd agreed to take it very slowly and make sure that school and Lucky's therapy were given the priorities and attention that they deserved.
"It's my turn," Emily said as she reached for the bottle of suntan lotion. Lucky was sitting up on the recliner with his knees bent. Emily rubbed the lotion over his lower calves as Lucky wryly commented, "Can the lotion reach the skin with all that hair?"
Emily smiled. "I like your legs. They're soft and the hair is, too."
"They're skinny," Lucky scoffed.
"I like thin guys," Emily said. "Besides, you said you're still growing. That's where your calories are going."
Lucky placed his hands behind his head and nodded. "I guess I'm making up for lost time. I didn't get much nutrition for two years while in the compound and living on the streets. I hope I grow about two inches more - then I'll be almost as tall as my dad. That'd be cool. I like the way my dad looks."
"He's handsome," Emily agreed. She frowned. "Aren't you hot in that black teeshirt?" Lucky had worn a large, loose concert teeshirt to the pool, but he hadn't removed it.
"I told you I have scars," he said.
"I know. I won't mind."
"Maybe you will," Lucky countered. "I don't know if I could take it if you ran away or didn't want to be with me after seeing them. I feel insecure about it."
Emily smiled sadly, glad that Lucky felt comfortable enough to be honest with his feelings, yet aware that he was hesitant to open up completely. "It's okay to feel insecure, but I won't run away. I might feel upset when I first see them, but I won't lose it. I can handle it. Honestly."
Lucky removed his dark sunglasses, and his blue eyes looked hesitant and ashamed. "Some of the scars are from the compound and some of them are from me, before I was in the hospital. I kind of lost it and cut and burned myself. I still want to do it sometimes, but I'm working on finding other ways of dealing with the feelings." He stared at her directly and held her gaze. "That's the truth."
"Okay," Emily said.
Lucky sighed and ran his hand over his hair. "The worst scar is my fault. I did it right before Christmas. Remember when you hugged me at your house and I winced?"
Emily nodded.
"It's because I broke a rib when that guy at GH pounded on me. It brought back too many memories. I cut myself to try to control them. It's on my abdomen. I also have scars on my back from beatings that flayed my skin open. There are different types of scars littered here and there. But those are the big ones."
Emily sat closer to Lucky and pulled him into a hug. She rubbed his back over his tee shirt and then ran her hand under it, stroking him lightly on the back and chest. She kissed him gently and looked him straight in the eye. "Does that feel good?" she asked . When he nodded, she smiled. "It felt good to me to touch you there. Your skin feels nice, warm and soft. That's what you should remember. Not the scars."
Lucky felt a moment of impulsive courage or was it foolhardiness? He whipped off his teeshirt and threw it away from him. He suddenly looked like a little boy, exposed and afraid, and Emily's eyes filled with tears more from his reaction than because of the actual physical scars. His emotional scars always affected her more and made her heart feel heavy and sad. Lucky's eyes didn't meet hers, and he stared to the side at a chair that was near the pool.
Emily took the sunscreen lotion and spread it gently over his broad shoulders, allowing her fingertips to trail down the length of his back. "I'm sorry they hurt you," she said. "It makes me mad at all the rotten people in the world, the ones who only want to hurt others." Her fingers ran over the bumps and indentations of the scars, but never hesitated or stopped. Lucky took in a deep breath and let it out slowly when she showered a few kisses over the surface of his back. She reached around the front and rubbed his chest. "I like you fine," she said softly. "You're my Lucky, and that's what's important to me."
Lucky's blue eyes were now a little brighter and more confident. "You're a very special girl, you know that?" He kissed her lightly on the lips. "How about some more sunscreen on my chest and stomach?" He laid back and held his hands behind his neck, enjoying the feel of the lotion absorbing into his skin with Emily's soft strokes.
Lucky caught Emily's gaze again. "I'm sorry I did those things to myself," he said plainly. "It's no excuse, but I'm trying, I really am." He pulled his swim trunks a few inches lower, exposing his hipbone. "This is it," he said. "My crowning glory, evidence of my greatest lunacy." The long, jagged scar had healed to a thick, white line, looking like he'd had a subpar surgical experience. A few cigarette burns held excess pigment and littered the nearby surface with their reddish brown tint.
Emily held Lucky's hand. "You know, chances are, I'll have some scars of my own one of these days - maybe from breast cancer or a caesarian section if I have a baby. Will you be able to handle it if I do? My natural mother had breast cancer. Will you want to be with me if I'm missing a breast?"
Lucky blinked in confusion as Emily had always seemed physically perfect in his mind. "I love you," he replied quickly. "Not just your body I mean."
"Same here," Emily replied. "Do you get my point?"
Lucky smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I do."
Emily jumped up from the recliner with a smile. "Let's go bob around the pool for a minute. Then we can take naps and enjoy the heat." She ran away from Lucky and hopped into the deep end with a shriek.
"You can't get away that easily!" Lucky shouted as he followed her into the depths of the pool with a tremendous splash.
~*~*~*~
Nikolas walked into the women's correctional facility with a sense of trepidation. He walked down the hallway to the reception area, looking as if he might be contaminated if he touched any of the gray, cheerless surfaces. He cradled his broken arm close to his body. He would have worn a suit, but the plaster casted arm wouldn’t fit into one anymore. He'd settled for a dressy, short sleeved shirt and a pair of well-creased, soft, black wool trousers. As he entered the reception area and glanced at the other visitors, he regretted his clothing choices. Not a single person was dressed for looks. Comfort ruled the day with frayed jeans and sweatsuits. He mentally shrugged. It wasn't the first time he didn't fit in, and it wouldn't be the last.
After signing in, Nikolas entered the waiting area and took his seat. Something was jabbing his rear end, and he rose to inspect the battered chair. There was a tiny doll, only three inches tall, stuffed toward the side. He plucked it from the chair and looked around for a likely owner. A little girl no older than five was playing at the feet of a worn looking woman who was probably twenty-five but looked like a used up forty year old.
"Is this yours?" Nikolas asked as he extended the doll toward the little girl. He had a special affection for all small children but liked little girls the best as they invariably reminded him of his sister.
The little girl nodded but shrank away from him with a wary expression on her young face.
Nikolas frowned and placed the doll on a
nearby empty chair. "It's there if you want it," he said. Is it my accent? he wondered. I thought it was almost nonexistent. But Lucas thought I had one. Maybe children are more
perceptive. The raucous sound of families conversing with southern accents registered
in his hearing, and he figured he'd have an accent in
When it was Nikolas' turn for a visit, he followed the sturdy female guard to a room with a dividing glass wall. There definitely wasn't a relaxed visiting atmosphere in this medium security prison. It was as if the prison were actively discouraging visitors from returning.
Nikolas' eyes swept around the area, and he took in the four other visitor stations, all too close to one another, and the shouts of people trying to communicate with loved ones on the other side of the glass. Nikolas blinked in surprise as he was the only white visitor in the room. There were two black women and a Hispanic man in the other visitor stations. He felt conspicuous but supposed it was turn about fair play as he was destined to be a minority himself in some settings. He crossed his legs and nervously tapped his shoe as he waited for his mother to appear.
Finally, he saw his mother approaching. He recognized her familiar walk and sat up straighter in his chair, clearing his throat with anticipation as he reminded himself of the purpose of this visit. His mother had an uncanny knack for turning conversations to her advantage, so he'd attempted to prepare himself for that scenario. Laura sat down in front of him and smiled as she picked up the phone that would allow them to communicate.
"Hello, Nikolas," her familiar voice sounded through the phone. Even prison hadn't taken away the pleasant, tinkling quality of that voice.
Nikolas felt queasy when he regarded her appearance. She appeared dumpy with perhaps thirty extra pounds on her frame and two-toned hair where the natural color grew down six inches from her scalp, joined by the faded, dyed blond of former days. Her natural light brown hair color was prodigiously mixed with gray, and the multi-toned effect was unpleasant to behold. Her face seemed to sag a bit more around the eyes and chin than the last time he'd seen her. Soon she would develop jowls. He reflected that prison must be a hard environment, and it showed on the faces of the incarcerated. His mother was young, barely forty, but in this prison, she looked fifty.
"Hello, Mother," Nikolas rich voice intoned. "Thank you for meeting with me."
Laura tittered and smiled broadly. "I was so happy that my son wanted to see me. It's been awhile since we've written."
Nikolas set his jaw as his muscles tensed. "I've been busy," he said. He raised his arm. "And then this happened."
Laura's eyebrows rose. "What did you do to yourself?" she asked curiously. "Are you okay?"
"I'll live," Nikolas said as he forced his face to remain neutral. In truth, the Faison incident still bothered him and made him apprehensive. "But I didn't do it to myself. It was done to me."
Laura's eyes darkened. "Who would do such a thing? That's terrible. Was it a mugger? Was he arrested? I hope so."
Nikolas looked her straight in the eyes and said lightly, "It was Cesar Faison. I'm sure you know who I mean."
Laura frowned and looked startled. "Faison? Why would he be interested in you?"
"As opposed to being interested in my brother, you mean," Nikolas clarified. When Laura remained silent, he continued. "Faison came back to kill Lucky, which he almost did, and to kidnap me for ransom. Faison poisoned Lucky with cyanide, and his henchman broke my arm when I struggled with him. Frisco Jones and the WSB came and saved us. That's the short version of the story." Nikolas stroked his cast and looked down at it. "I had surgery to correct the break. It still hurts some, but that's not why I'm here. I have other things to discuss with you."
"Well, as long as you're okay," Laura said solicitously.
"And you don't give a damn about my brother, that's obvious!" Nikolas said loudly as his emotions rose. His eyes ran over his mother, and he could detect no signs of worry or caring.
"My relationship with your brother is separate from you," Laura said. "It's between me and Lucky."
"Like hell!" Nikolas yelled into the phone. He shifted in his seat and darted his eyes over to the guard who adjusted her stance and stared at him. He ran a hand over his forehead to calm himself. He finally found that sweet spot, the place that his uncle had perfected, a place where the emotions were furious yet contained and appropriate to the situation and his own goals. "Lucky is my business, and he has been since I returned to Port Charles many months ago. He is my brother, and including my sister, he is my closest family. Any interactions or lack of interactions between you two does affect me."
Laura's expression hardened as she continued to stare at her eldest son. This visit wasn't the friendly "glad to see my mother" occasion that she'd been hoping for. She sniffed and looked down at the desk surface in front of her, running her finger over the area to buy time so she could think of a way to turn this situation around.
"There's something about my uncle that you don't know," Nikolas stated. Inwardly he delighted in being able to startle his mother and take control.
"What?" Laura asked in a tight voice.
"He was the one who ordered Lucky's kidnapping. It was for revenge against Luke for the deaths of my father and grandfather and to regain control of the Ice Princess. He was very focused on revenge for his family. I wonder what his ultimate plans were for you?"
Laura's eyes narrowed. "I loved Stefan, and he loved me. It was Luke. It's always his fault! Stefan wouldn't hurt me."
"Stefan kidnapped Lucky and had a madman torture him. That had no effect on you?"
Laura's lips pursed, and she shrugged her shoulders, dismissing the idea. "Any actions that Stefan may or may not have taken were to bring our family together - you, me, and Lulu."
"I'm sure you're correct, at least partially correct about that," Nikolas said. "But the ends don't justify the means. He was wrong in trying to destroy an innocent boy to get him out of the way. When Lucky was gone, and Luke was down, he moved right in. Am I correct?"
"Why are we even having this discussion?" Laura protested. "Stefan is dead. It's over. It's done with."
Nikolas face sank at the reminder of his uncle's demise. "Yes, it is over. The Spencer Cassadine war is over."
Laura's eyes ran over Nikolas with an appraising quality. "Are you sure about that?" she asked softly. "You seem very much like your father right now. You're a Cassadine. Shouldn't you be gunning after Luke for what he did to your uncle as well as your father? It's Luke you have issues with, not me."
"Incorrect," Nikolas said firmly as he tapped his finger on the desk area. He rose even more erectly in his chair, and he physically became his uncle in expression and manner. "I have decided to end it. I have no issues with Luke. He can carry his own conscience. Question is, Mother, do you have one?"
"Why this attack on me?" Laura retorted as the tears built in her eyes. "All I ever wanted was to make a family with you and Stefan and Lulu. Is that so terrible?" Laura paused as the tears trailed sadly down her cheeks. She sniffed, and new tears erupted.
"You're the most manipulative person I've ever met," Nikolas said with a steady, sure voice. "The conversation takes a hot turn, and you turn on the waterworks. You're not going to cry your way out of this one, Mother. It's all out on the table now, and you are going to take responsibility for it."
Laura's tears magically stopped flowing, and she angrily wiped them away as she glared at her son.
Nikolas' eyes bore holes into her. "Not only did you cheat on your husband, which is not really my business, but you allowed your lovers to abuse and harm Lucky, not to mention what you did to him yourself. Then, when he returned from the compound you ignored him, belittled him and beat him. Where is that motherly instinct now, Laura? Out the window? Was it too inconvenient having a son around if he interfered with your own love life? Was it a burden trying to find ways to be with Stefan if your son needed you to be at home to care for him? You disgust me, you truly do."
"I am your mother!" Laura shouted into the phone as her eyes turned angry and mean. "You don't talk to me like that."
"You gave birth to me," Nikolas replied evenly. "Nothing else. Thank God, I suppose I should say, with what I've discovered about how you treat your sons."
"How dare you?" Laura protested
tearfully. "You know I wanted to take you from that island. How is that my fault? It
was
"I don't believe you suffered at all until my existence became a reality in your life upon my return to Port Charles. And here I spent all those years being jealous of Lucky and begrudging his presence in a family I didn't belong to. Silly me. Now I've learned."
"You've been listening to Lucky," Laura protested.
"And it's his entire fault," Nikolas added for her. "That's what you were going to say, isn't it?"
"He's just like his father! I hate him! I hate both of them!" Laura shouted in a rare moment of truth.
Nikolas clapped twice. "Bravo. Honesty. It's refreshing. So you allowed your hatred of Luke to rub off onto his children. Lucky was too much like Luke and that was his crime. A boy loving and imitating his father makes you nervous. Hm. Well, Mother, perhaps you won’t like it when I begin acting like my father. He was a very controlling man, or so I hear. Tell me, Mother, how old am I?"
Nikolas' eyebrow rose when Laura's eyes darted around, and she sputtered. "Oh. Flunked that test. Now. When is my birthday?" When Laura merely glared at him, he said, "This week, I will be twenty two years old. A man, not a boy. Don't make that mistake, Mother. It might cost you."
"Cost me?" Laura scoffed. "I'm in prison, what else do you want?"
"Oh, there are things I want," Nikolas said. "First of all, I want a medical history for my brother. I want to know exactly which persons in your family have had mental illnesses. Let's start with you, shall we?"
Laura looked decidedly uncomfortable and avoided Nikolas' gaze.
"Mother," Nikolas prompted in a low, dangerous voice.
"All right!" she puffed out with exasperation. "Not that it is any of your business, but they diagnosed me with bipolar disorder when I was tested in the prison."
"And your medication?" Nikolas was relieved to hear the news as he'd suspected something like this.
"I know," Nikolas said. "Anyone else?"
"Well, my mother had her nervous
breakdowns, but it was mainly due to Helena and Stefan."
"What about your father? I've never heard you speak of him. Your natural father that
is."
Laura colored and looked down at her lap.
Her hands fidgeted. "I never knew my real father. He was a university professor.
That's what Lesley told me."
"Why no visits or any contact?" Nikolas questioned.
"Okay." Laura said angrily. "He was in institutions most of the time. He was schizophrenic. He'd improve and teach sometimes, but then they'd have to lock him up again. That's why they wouldn't allow me to see him. As if I'd care since I was a little girl, but that's the reason why. He's dead now. He's been dead for years. They should have at least allowed me to see what he looked like." Her chin trembled with her strong emotions.
"So Lucky's problems brought back those unhappy memories," Nikolas stated.
Laura shrugged and appeared nonchalant. "I don't know. I never thought of it that way."
"Lucky's problems kept you away from the man you thought you loved," Nikolas said. "And he reminded you of the man you wanted to leave."
"What is this?" Laura asked with annoyance. "Give me a break."
"That is what I've been doing - giving you a break. But not any longer. I have one more stipulation. This one is very, very important so please pay attention." Nikolas stared Laura down for a moment before he continued. "Eventually, Lucky is going to want to come and see you. You know it and I know it. How you treat him will be directly related to how you are treated in this prison. When he comes, you will be honest and respectful. You will not speak against his father or anyone else for that matter. You will listen to him, and you will answer his questions. If you don't, I will cut you off permanently. You will have zero dollars in your prison account; I will never communicate with you again; and I will not assist you upon your release. Are we clear on these issues?"
Nikolas affected a princely manner as he was straightforward, unruffled and exceedingly sure of himself. He expected nothing less than total compliance, and his facial expression indicated that with grace and firmness.
Laura screwed up her face to protest but thought better of it as she caught the serious nature of her son. The son sitting in front of her was a man, a man who was confident and self-assured, a man who was one hundred percent Cassadine and knew it to his advantage.
Her lips pursed in a feeble protest, but she nodded. He had her. She had no access to money except through Nikolas. Amy had visited her twice but wasn't reliable for funds or anything else for that matter. "Yes," she said.
"Good," Nikolas stated as he rose from his chair. "We have an understanding. I'm sure you'll have time to perfect your performance." Nikolas walked away without laying eyes on his mother. He planned for it to be the last time he ever saw her face.
Next...