5 Point Challenge: Lucky By Dreamylyfe   June, 1996. "Lucky?" Lucky popped his head up from where he'd been hunched over at the back of the church. He wiped at his face hurriedly with his sleeve, swearing under his breath. Then immediately looking guiltily towards the marble carving of Christ on the Cross that hung heavy over the altar. "Yeah?" His mother, Laura Spencer, had already started towards the altar already. She spun around at the sound of his voice and her face cracked into an unsteady and relieved smile. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you." She flew down the aisle towards him. "Your father's gone back to the apartment to see if you were there! Lucky, you can't --" she stopped dead as she reached the pew. "You've been crying." His eyes were red. His cheeks were still wet. But he shook his head, so that his hair fell neatly into his eyes and scoffed. "No way!" He and shifted his posture on the pew into one of infinite cool. "I just thought..." Gestured an unconcerned hand towards the Well. We need a miracle, right?" He nodded towards the altar. Alabaster Jesus. "Couldn't hurt." "No," His mother smiled at him. Beamed, almost. "Couldn't hurt at all." She leaned forward, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Can I join you?" He smiled at her. His very best Charm Smile. The one he reserved for inquisitive airplane stewardesses and the occasional policeman. "Think there's room." She narrowed her eyes, "Beautiful." "Uh huh..." he answered, but he was watching his mother, not the chapel. She looked different. Like he hadn't seen her in weeks. She was still smiling. "Something happened," he said, slowly. "Something's changed with Lulu." His mother let out her breath and nodded. She turned to him, eyes filled with tears, and reached out to take his hand. He jerked it back a moment, unsure of what was coming next. But she held on firmly. Looked right into his eyes. Leaned down and told him, "They found a donor." Lucky's stomach lurched. "They found a donor?" "They did." "Someone in Port Charles?" His mother's face clouded, and she turned away. "No. No... Not anyone..." She shook her head, and looked down at their clasped hands. She squeezed. Hard. "It's a stranger," she said, finally. "It's... It's a miracle." She looked up at him and smiled again. And Lucky knew she wanted him to smile with her. He should be able to. This was good news. It was really good news. Cause Lulu... She was really sick. And this was the only shot they had at getting out. But his mother... He knew something was wrong. He just did. She wasn't telling him something. He felt uneasy and slid back along the pew a bit. "Is she going to be ok?" "Well -- The donor..." She took a deep breath. "The donor is right here in Switzerland. So they'll do the transplant very soon. And then we'll see." "What about Frank Smith?" Lucky pressed. "Has anything happened, do we know --" Laura was already shaking her head. "Nothing." He eyed her suspiciously. "You sure?" "Sure as we ever are." She looked worried again, and Lucky felt his insides tighten with guilt. His Mom had barely slept since he didn't even know how long. And she cried all the time. She was more scared than anyone, he suspected. And now he was scaring her even more. He scooted back along the pew, lifting her arm up and putting it around his shoulders so that he could cuddle up to her. He leaned into his mother, putting his head on her shoulder. Waited until she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before he spoke again. "I think it's going to be ok," he told her, frowning like he'd given this a great deal of thought. "I mean... If she gets the transplant, and she gets better, we can leave, right?" "Right." "Cause..." He looked up at her. "We can see doctor's anywhere." Laura pressed her lips together, nodding. "Right," her voice was strangled. "I... I was thinking... Well, we might need to go back to North America for a little while. Maybe Canada. You liked Canada, right?" "'Til the dinner got blown up," Lucky shrugged. "Yeah, it was ok." "Maybe we'll try Quebec this time. You can practice your French." Laura combed her fingers through Lucky's shoulder-length hair. "Your father's sister is married to a doctor." "Aunt Bobbie," he clarified. He'd met the woman once. Briefly, about four years earlier. "That's right." Laura murmured. "It'll be risky, but if we stay within a few hours of the border, then Lulu can have a chance at regular check ups. Just until we know." "Ah," Lucky made a dismissive gesture. "We can do risky. That's what Spencers do best." His mother nodded, her expression angular, serious. "We'll have to. We knew we were taking a chance when we had your sister -- It's hard to do what we have to do with a baby. And now that she's sick..." Her voice trailed off and Lucky didn't have to look at her to know that she was starting to cry again. He had to think of something to say. He had to. "They have good doctors here, right?" He spoke up. Louder than he had to. His mother cleared her throat before answering. "Best in the world." "So she'll be ok." "Yes," he felt her chest rise and fall as she took in a steadying breath. "Yes. We all will." Lucky nodded. Stayed still in his mother's embrace a long time. Letting her stroke his hair, cause it calmed her down. She liked to do this mothering stuff, and maybe fourteen was too old to let her -- but just this once... It was ok. He let his eyes close, and finally let himself sink into the realization of what all this meant. They had a donor. They finally had a donor. "Lucky?" It was a few minutes later, when he heard his mother's voice again, rich with concern. He realized he was crying again. Instead of hiding it, this time he just turned into her, burying his head in her shoulder. "I wanted to match," he spoke into the sleeve of her dress. "I wanted to help her." "I know you did, sweetheart." He kissed the top of his head, lovingly. "I know you did." June, 1997 "You're late!" Emily Quartermaine complained, as Lucky Spencer's head appeared out of a tunnel in the far wall of the catacombs. She was sitting, cross-legged, on a ratty blanket laid over the dirt floor. Well below the cobwebs, she sat with her back against the wall and a lantern in her hand. "I've been here, like, an hour!" "Got held up," Lucky grunted, as he squirmed out of the narrow entrance way. "Dad wanted to talk to me about something." He spilled onto the ground with as much panache as he could muster, then looked up at his best friend and grinned. "Ta dah!" "You're a spaz." "You just don't understand my art," Lucky fished around in his jacket pocket and pulled out his bounty. "See if I share my wealth with you." Emily stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "I have beeeeeeeer," she sang. Lucky rolled his eyes. "Where?" Emily smiled conspiratorially, then reached into a cubby hole, shrouded in darkness. She came out, as promised, with a bottle of Budweiser. "Want one?" "Please," he sighed. She used the tail of her shirt to twist off the cap, then handed the bottle over. "It's warm." Lucky took a swig, then choked and pulled back. "It's disgusting." "I know," Emily sighed mournfully, looking at a bottle sitting to her right. "Beggars can't be choosers or whatever. Next time -- YOU get the booze. I'll get the drugs." "No way." "Why not?" "Cause I don't like you near those guys. They're totally out to..." he let his voice trail off. Emily was looking at him oddly. "Out to what?" He shook his head. "You're such an innocent." "Pfft!" she buzzed her lips, her hair flying up out of her eyes and then falling immediately back in. "Does this look like how an innocent spends her Saturday night?" "Yeah, you're a rebel," he agreed, flopping down on the blanket next to her and handing her one of the two joints. "Got a light, James Dean?" Emily looked at the joint with what Lucky felt was too much longing. He closed his hand. "What's going on?" Emily rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall. "What did your Dad want to talk about?" They stared at each other. Eyes locked, both equally determined, until Lucky exhaled. "Fine," he opened his fist. "It's all yours." She grinned and took the joint from him. Fished around in the pockets of her jeans before coming up with a book of matches. They fell into a comfortable and familiar silence. They'd spent, maybe, two dozen nights like this over the past year. At first just wallowing in their mutual misery. Trying to support each other through crippling pain. It hadn't worked all that great. But add in a few recreational substances... Things got easier. Looser. Lucky was trying hard to keep a firm grip on it. He only ever did stuff like this with Emily. And she scared him sometimes. He knew sometimes she did stuff when he wasn't around. He knew she liked it more than he did. She seemed to need it more, too. Though sometimes... Sometimes he needed it more than he had words for. He took his own toke on the third or fourth pass and went to hand the joint back. But Emily had that *look* about her. Soft and peaceful and kinda happy. Beautiful, really. In the lantern light, she looked like she was glowing. Or maybe he was just stoned. "Enough?" he inquired. Emily nodded, her head tipped upwards and her eyes closed, and Lucky licked his fingers, extinguishing the end. He tucked the remaining pot into his jacket again. "You wanna tell me now? Emily kept her eyes closed. After a long moment, she closed her hand around the neck of her beer bottle and took a long swig. Then her hands dropped into her lap "Dorman." Lucky sighed. "Yeah. I heard." Emily shook her head. "No. You didn't hear this." She took a steadying breath. "The stuff he used in court? The stuff about Mom and Ned and AJ and all that?" Tears were suddenly standing in her eyes. Her bottom lip started to tremble. "He got it from my diary." Lucky stared at her in the dim light while her words sunk in. "How," he asked, quietly. "I don't know," she murmured before taking another big swig of her beer. "I don't want to think about it. Stole it, probably." "Did you know it was missing?" She shook her head. "I think he probably photocopied it and put it back. When I was in school maybe. Maybe he paid one of the maids..." she put her hand to her head, wincing in pain. "I don't want to think about it." "How'd you find out?" "How do I find out anything? I overheard people fighting." Lucky winced. "Ouch." "Yeah." Emily looked down at her hands, her fingers. Twisting them around and around. "What'd you do?" Lucky prompted, finally. "Why didn't you call me?" "I don't know," she said, her voice distant. "I guess it didn't really feel real. I... I was..." she looked up at him. "I was kinda stoned." Lucky started. "Emily!" "Just a little!" she defended. "Just a little, I walked home with Todd Patterson, and he was smoking, so..." "Damnit, Emily," He pulled himself up into a sitting position. "I thought I told you to stay away from that guy!" Her face heated. "Ok, one -- since when do you get to tell me what to do? And two -- He's the one who keeps showing up on ME, ok? I don't go looking for him! And Three..." She deflated. "It was one toke. And it kinda gave me a headache." She looked up at him. Eyes large and doe-like. "Are you mad?" He glared at her, but it was a halfhearted attempt. "I just hate it when you do stuff like that." "When you're not around." "Yeah --" he leaned forward, looking into her eyes intently. "I don't like you doing it when you don't know where it came from and when you're with someone who might..." "What? Take advantage?" Lucky looked away from her, feeling uncomfortable. "Yeah. Cause a lot of guys..." He cleared his throat and shifted away from her. "A lot of guys would. And I don't want anything bad to happen to you." "It won't," Emily spoke in a very small voice. "But..." Her voice shook and Lucky closed his eyes. "It was good I WAS on something,cause... Cause I don't know what I would have done. I just sat down on the stairs and it seemed like a big joke -- so I started to laugh. Like, really hard, and I couldn't stop. And then they came out and they thought..." She snorted, staring at the dirt floor. "I don't know what they thought. I just ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. And I took a really long shower and when it was over they talked to me. And they said it wasn't my fault, but..." "But." "Yeah." They fell into silence. It was one of the things he liked about hanging out with Emily. She understood what 'but' meant. How there were things you could explain away until the end of the earth, but they still sat heavy in your heart. And there wasn't any changing that. "Anyway," Emily said, finally. "That's when I called you, and..." she put her hands out in a flourish. "Here we are." "That really sucks, Emily," he muttered, turning himself around so that he could settle against the wall with her. "I think that's a great word," Emily agreed. "Sucks. It sums everything I can think of up." "True," Lucky reached out for his abandoned beer and tried another swig. Not so bad, now that he was high. Sort of interesting. You could develop a taste for it, if you were so inclined. "School, for instance." "Sucks." "Kids at school." "Suuuuuck!" Emily said, vehemently. As much as Lucky tried to protect her from the crap Em was getting for the other kids, the fact that there was a grade separating them limited his options. "Parents," he said, heavily. There was a long silence, before Emily nodded her agreement. "Really suck." Lucky pulled his knees up and occupied himself with picking the foil label off the bottle. Strip by strip. Vertically. "I hate going home." "Amen, brother." "It's like... They don't even look at each other. And they..." He tore another thin strip from the bottle. "Dad can't even talk about her. He's just like -- It happened. That's life. Move on." He looked up at Emily, smiling weakly. "Mom can't really do that." Emily looked at him, sadly. "She any better?" "Spent all today in her room with the lights off." He turned away, leaned his head back against the stone wall and drank deeply from the bottle. He couldn't talk about this. Hell, he couldn't even think about it. He drank the rest of the bottle quickly and when it was done, he felt sick. "Have I ever told you, you're my hero?" Emily asked, her voice dreamy. "Shut up." "No, really," she frowned. "Last year, I felt like nothing. I felt like it didn't matter if I lived or died or got up in the morning or anything." She reached out and took his hand. He gripped hers, while staring hard at the far wall. "You kinda brought me back to earth. Cause I knew I had to be a good friend to you. I owed it to you." "You don't owe me anything." "You helped me when my mother died." She exhaled. "So. When Lulu..." "Died," Lucky spit bitterly. "She died." "I know." "No one ever says that, you notice that? It's always 'When Lulu...' Passed over. Or went to a better place. Or -- my personal favorite -- went to live with the angels." Lucky's voice cracked on the last word. "Angels. Right. In heaven -- with the big fluffy clouds and the harps and the eternal happiness." Tears came hot and fast. He pulled out of Emily's grip, and buried his face in his hands. After a moment, he felt her arm come around his shoulders. Her head rest on his arm. He dropped his hands, finally, but he wouldn't look at her. "She was so beautiful," he said, thickly, tears still rolling unabated down his face. "She was." "She was so beautiful -- she was the most beautiful, sweetest baby girl in the world. Ever." Emily nodded resolutely without raising her head. "I know." "If there was a God, I can't believe he'd ever let a baby like Lulu die. I mean, she wasn't even two years old! She barely got to have a life!" "Yeah," she said, hollowly. "But it happens. People get sick and they die before they should." "I hate it." Lucky hissed. "Me too." Silence descended again. Lucky realized his tears had stopped. Weird... How little he noticed things. And how much he did. He shook his head slightly and watched the room jostle around him. Huh. "We should probably stop doing this," he muttered. "Probably," she agreed. "It's a bad habit." "Totally bad." "And eventually one of us gets caught again." "Hey!" Emily lifted her head. "I barely got caught. Barely. I totally managed to convince them it was just beer and I was totally sorry and it would never ever happen again." She looked over at him, frowning, then cracked up. "I'm sorry. It's just so stupid. Like my parents are ever going to notice I'm not their perfect little angel. We should run away." Emily hiccuped in surprise at her own comment, then looked at Lucky in utter shock. "Oh my God. We should run away!" Lucky turned his head towards her. "You need help, Quartermaine." "No, think about it! I hate my house, you hate your house -- our parents aren't even NOTICING our little teenaged rebellion. We should totally run away!" "And go where?" "I don't know," she frowned. "Why do we have to go anywhere. We could just... Have an adventure. Forget all this stupid stuff happened and just... " "What? Be kids again?" "You know, technically, I think we are kids." "Yeah..." Lucky said, slowly. He reached out and touched her hair. It was an impulse. Her hair was always in her face these days. "It could be fun." "Fun," Emily rolled the word around her mouth. "What's that?" "I don't know..." Lucky said, staring at her... Ok, her mouth. He was staring at her mouth. This kept happening. They'd drink, they'd smoke, they'd start talking, and then after awhile, his focus would drift to things like that. Things that he really shouldn't be focusing on. "Maybe we should find out." "I'm game if you're game." The mouth was smiling at him. "I'm game. I'm always game." That was the last thing he said before he kissed her. June, 1998 "Elizabeth." Crickets chirped. Tree branches rustled. Tree frogs sang. Lizzie Webber stared up at the stars and suppressed a groan. "Yeah?" "Do you know what a distributor cap is?" She shifted her weight, disturbing the gravel under her feet. "Something to do with a car?" "Yeah," Lucky nodded, staring into the bowels of his father's caddy, flashlight held authoritatively in one hand. "Yeah. It's something to do with a car. It's kinda important and guess what? Mine is missing." Lizzie sighed heavily, and pushed herself off the guy wire she'd been precariously leaning against. She rounded the car and looked at the car guts sprawled out in front of her. It was totally beyond her comprehension. "So?" "So. We can't go anywhere until I get one," he shot a sideline glance in her direction. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Lizzie stared determinedly into the car engine. "I told you, I don't even know what a distribution cap IS." "Distributor cap. It makes the car GO. Like without one, the car doesn't do anything. So I had to have one to get out here. You follow my logic?" Lizzie didn't move. "Liz," Lucky prompted. When she didn't answer, he shined the light in her face. "You look guilty." "I do not!" Lizzie stepped away from the car, holding he hand up. "Get that thing away from me." Lucky turned, holding the light with both hands and shinning it determinedly into her eyes like an interrogator in some bad movie. "Where's my distributor's cap, Elizabeth." "How should I know?" "I don't know," Lucky's voice betrayed his frustration. "Maybe it's the same place my bicycle pump is. Or the key to the cellar of Kelly's. Or the box that holds open the freezer at my father's club." Lizzie crossed her arms, defensively. "What's your point?" Lucky dropped his arm, diverting the path of the flashlight. "I'm just saying, I seem to be getting stuck places with you a hell of a lot, lately." "Yeah, well," Lizzie sputtered, trying to blink the spots out of her vision. "Sorry to put you through so much torture." "Torture..." Lucky laughed humorless, going back to leaning over the car. Like there was any damn point. "Torture, that's a good way to put it." Lizzie nearly doubled over, feeling like she'd just been hit full in the gut with a sucker punch. "Fine," she felt tears threaten. Damnit! She was not going to CRY in front of his arrogant, stubborn, stupid, dumb BOY. This was it. She was done. She kept TRYING to get him to spend just a little time with her. Just a little -- just so that he could get to see what she was really like. So that he could see that she could be more fun than Sarah, and cuter than Emily and just... BETTER, damnit. She had been hung up on him a YEAR now. A whole stupid year, and he... Well. He was worried about the distributor cap. That was pretty much the story of her life right now. She was throwing herself at his feet, so to speak, and he was looking for the distributor cap. Life? Sucks. "Elizabeth." His voice sounded heavy. Put upon. Lizzie turned away. "Elizabeth, come on. Look at me." She shook her head. She pulled her purse around her body and pulled it open, rummaging madly as he tried to cajole her into... Oh, God knows what. Her hand closed around the object she sought and she turned around and hurled it at him. "HERE!" she yelled, throwing it so close to where he was standing that Lucky nearly hit the dirt trying to duck. "There's your stupid DISTRIBUTOR CAP!" Lucky stared at her in shock, then scrambled to his feet, spinning around to try and see where the all-important piece of machinery had landed. The bushes at the far side of the road rustled and Lucky let out a scream of agony as the cap, no doubt, slid into the ditch. "Damnit! Elizabeth!" He turned back to her, a totally unnatural look in his eyes. "Why? Why? WHY are you doing this to me?" "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're such a nice guy." Lucky slammed the hood of the car down and shot her a look might be illegal in some states. "You're driving me insane." "Feeling's mutual." He started across the road, flashlight in hand, then stopped, turned, and strode back to her. "WHAT? Just answer the question! WHAT do you have against me? Why the hell do you keep messing up my LIFE! Did I run over your dog in a past life? What is it? What do you want from me!" "What do I WANT from you?" She squeaked, incredulous. "What do I WANT from you?" She laughed, stepping back from him. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe, like, a tenth of the attention you show my sister? Or just a little bit of the compassion you spill all over Emily." Lucky looked like his head was going to explode. "That's it? That's why you're following me around making my life a living hell?" "Oh, come on," Lizzie sneered. "If I was trying to make your life a living hell, you'd know it!" "Right," Lucky's eyes widened, mockingly. "There'd be condoms planted all over my house! I can just see all the wacky misunderstandings now!" Lizzie flushed bright red. "Shut up." Lucky drew in his breath, a sure sign he was about to exercise 'patience'. "Look," he said, as evenly as he could manage. "Whatever the hell your twisted little reasons are? We're still stuck here. Both of us. Until we find that stupid cap. So are you going to help me or what?" She eyed him coldly. "What." Lucky started to laugh. Low in his throat and rising. Ever so slightly maniacal. "You know," he pointed a finger at her as he backed away, back towards the car. "I don't know what I did to piss you off? But I'm truly sorry. You can't even imagine how sorry." "Not as sorry as I am!" Lizzie shot back. Lucky looked back at her, nonplused. "What does that even MEAN?" "It means," she stared, then stopped dead. Oh, don't be an idiot, Liz. Don't be a big stupid... "IT MEANS," she leaned forward, hand on hip. "That you drive ME just as crazy as I drive you!" "That so." "More than so. You walk around like you're so superior with your whole 'I'm a Spencer, I know everything --' "I do know everything." "YEAH?" Lizzie screeched. "Then how come you haven't figured out I have a crush on you?" Crickets chirped. Tree branches rustled. Tree frogs sang. Lizzie Webber's embarrassment and rage burned with the heat of a thousand flames. Wow. Was she ever dumb. "Since when?" Lucky asked, his tone nearly accusatory. "Since always," she fired back. He turned away. Turned away, looked at the road. Finally, said, "Huh." Huh? HUH? She put her heart on the line and all she got was HUH? "Well," She prodded, finally. "Aren't you going to say something?" "I don't think so..." he said, slowly. "Then go find your precious car part!" Lizzie gestured toward the ditch. "Enjoy the mud!" He looked up and he was smiling. "You have a crush on me, huh?" She was going to kill him. Seriously. This was more than any one girl should ever have to put up with. "HAD," she muttered. "I think I'm cured." "You sure?" He took a step towards her and every hair on her body stood on end. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no... "Lucky..." He had reached her in no time. Was standing right in front of her with the weirdest look on his face. She tried to say something "Can I try something?" he asked. She just stared at him. It was like she was paralyzed. "Just to make sure. You know. That you're cured." "You're insa --" His mouth brushed against hers in the middle of the word and Lizzie stopped dead. Oh, God... she managed her only coherent thought before he actually kissed her. Oh, God... Who would have thought honesty would have been so damned effective? June, 2000 "You got a letter," Elizabeth called as she came through the front door. She stopped dead. Hey! Food! "Lucky?" "Kitchen!" She kicked off her shoes in the tiny little space by the door and made her way down the long narrow hallway that lead to their equally tiny 'kitchen'. Lucky was standing by the sink, rinsing out a stack of dishes. The window was open, sunlight pouring across the curling linoleum, car honking and city racket traveling right along with it. It was loud enough to nearly drown out the blues playing on the stereo in the living room. "... Think it's from your Grandma," she dropped the lavender envelop on the counter. "Is that what I think it is?" Lucky turned around and leaned back against the edge of the counter. "Eli's," he grinned. "How...?" "Brother with plane. It has it's advantages." She cocked one eyebrow. "Brownies for dessert?" "What else?" She just shook her head. "This is unreal." He shrugged. "It's an occasion." Elizabeth frowned. "It is?" "One year ago today..." "Yeah?" "You got your letter telling you that you were accepted to the New York Academy of Visual Art and Design." He took a step forward -- that was all it took to cross the kitchen -- and wound his arms around her waist. He leaned down, kissing her softly, before murmuring. "It's the day our dream came true." A thrill slide up Elizabeth's spine and she giggled as she brought her arms around his neck. "Dreams of Gold," she cooed at him. He nodded slightly, then leaned down again. "Speaking of which." His lips brushed against hers, lightly. "How'd the critiques go?" Elizabeth groaned. Talk about a mood killer. "Life drawing, ok. Intro to Design -- Ok. Conceptual Process is hell on earth. And my painting teacher hates me." "Aw." There was a soft teasing lilt to his voice. She tisked her tongue. "Yes, awwwww. Poor Elizabeth." He opened his mouth to respond, then stopped as a new song started. Etta James's voice slithered down the hall and wrapped itself around them. "At laaaaaaaast.... My love has come along...." Lucky tightened his grip on her. "Dance with me," he demanded as he bent to kiss her again. A long, slow, aching kiss that made her toes curl. "It'll make you feel better." "You," Elizabeth spoke as they started to move. "Are the sweetest boyfriend in the world." Lucky groaned, making a face and she laughed. "What? Is that a problem?" "I don't know," he murmured, pulling her back to him. "I feel kinda lightheaded. Might be the beginnings of insulin shock." June, 2006 "Hey." "Hhhhhhh...." "You ok?" "Hhhhhh..... Hhhha...." Nikolas Cassadine shook his head. Hard. Nope. Didn't help. "Um. Let me get the light." He reached over blindly, not taking his eyes off the lanky figure standing behind his desk. Back lit through the large window. Paused a moment, his hand hovering over the light switch. Scared, just for a second, that if he flipped the switch, the shadow would disappear. But. He who hesitates is lost. *click*. "Oh man." He was leaning against the window sill. Both hands casually draped over the molded wood, shoulders leaning against the stained glass of the central panel. The side panel was open, just a little. Letting in the damp night breeze -- which brushed across Nikolas's features like a welcome friend. Providing contrast. Distinct physical sensation. Oxygen. He pulled in into his lungs like he'd just burst through the crest of the ocean after fighting to the surface. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening. Of course, this had happened to him at least three times before, so really -- it was just stupid to be surprised by it. "Lucky," he managed, finally, finding the wall and deciding leaning against it was a strong choice. "Hey." His brother -- it felt weird to even think the words. To think them without some sort of shadow being cast across them -- His brother nodded towards the open door to Nikolas's immediate left. "Can you close that?" Nikolas nodded, reaching out one hand, and pushing the door firmly shut. He didn't move any muscles but those needed for the action, and he didn't turn his eyes away from the man standing in front of him. "It's you," he said, finally. It was hard to work out exactly where to start. He scanned his brother quickly. Mid-twenties, beyond his teens now. Broader chest, taller... But Lucky. Definitely and without doubt... Lucky. Same eyes, same posture. Same out of control hair, too. He frowned. "What... What happened to your face." Lucky stared at him a long moment, then reached up and drew his fingers along the line of the scar that sliced across his left cheek. "Life." He nodded. For the moment, that was more than enough answer. "Where..." He shook his head again. "Where have you been?" "Around," he sighed. "Are you going to stand there all night?" "Maybe," Nikolas admitted. "It's working out so far." Lucky nodded slightly, then came around the desk. Sat down on the edge and pushed the chair that sat opposite in Nikolas's direction. "I need to talk to you." "Clearly." Ok, this was ridiculous. He had to pull himself together. He had to -- After all, that's what Cassadines did best. He turned his focus onto the chair and managed to push himself off the wall. Move just those few small steps and sat down, almost robotically. "You're shaking." Nikolas frowned, then looked down at his hands. "Yeah. Yeah..." He studied them as if they belonged to someone else. "I guess I am." "Wanna drink?" "No...." Alcohol was the furthest thing from his mind. He didn't want to fog this up. He was regretting the half-a-glass of champagne he'd had nearly three hours ago. He had to know this was something happening in sobriety. And he had to remember it. All of it. "You're really here. You're really... Not dead." "Nope." "That's... Uh," he laughed, feeling a wave of warmth, of joy or relief or just realization, flood him. "That's good news." "Yeah?" "Yeah," he choked on the word. Tears welling up in his eyes, his chest tightening. "Hey." "I've missed you," he blurted out. God, how many times over the years had he wished he just had five more minutes, five minutes to say all the things he hadn't realized until Lucky had been put in the ground? Until he'd really started to understand that his brother was dead. And he wasn't ever going to... "I missed a lot of things," he said, numbly. "I thought you were gone forever." "I thought the same thing, sometimes," he was avoiding looking directly at him, as he fished in the pockets of his leather jacket for something. Finally, he pulled out a small pack of Marlboroghs. "Do you mind if I smoke?" "You smoke? Lucky smiled a slight smile that didn't travel to his eyes. "I had a lot of time to kill." "Ah, no. No, go for it." Lucky tapped a cigarette out of a pack, then stopped. "Go for it?" It took him a moment to understand what his brother meant. "I've been living in America for over ten years now, don't look so shocked." Lucky tapped the end of his cigarette on the package three times, then brought it to his lips. "I have a lot to catch up on." He paused, to light up. Nikolas watched him. Watched his hands -- he couldn't get used to that. It seemed impossible that this was really Lucky. After seven years, really him. But everything was so undeniably familiar. Things he didn't even know he remembered. It was mind blowing. Eventually, he was going to have to take that drink. "Who... Who else knows?" he made the words slowly, as they drifted across his brain. "Including you?" Lucky furrowed his brow, counting on fingers. "That'd be... Like... No. You. That's pretty much it." He stared at him. "I'm the first person you came to?" Lucky shrugged, looking off at some distant part of the floor. "Yeah. Well. I trust you." Interesting. Nikolas drank in those words. He was starting to feel human now. Assembling himself. "I wanted an update," Lucky clarified. "Before I made any big announcements." Nikolas was shaking his head again. "Where were you?" "You really want to know?" He looked over at him sharply. "It was my family. Grandmother." "Sometimes," Lucky took a long drag off the cigarette. "Sometimes it was other people. I think they had some grand scheme in mind, and it didn't work out for them." "So." He shrugged. "What do you do with a priceless bargaining chip when no one's playing the right game?" He looked "I don't know. I don't know what was going on here. I just know that whatever it was... It let seven years go by." "I can't believe I didn't know," he couldn't keep the guilt out of his voice. "Grandmother's been dead for over a year." Lucky looked surprised at that. A million points of light in his eyes, little connections being made, realizations. It was the first time since they'd started this conversation that his brother had looked anything close to flappable. But he shut it down quickly, and looked away. "My condolences." "What --" he started to ask, but Lucky pushed himself off the desk and started to pace the room. "I'll tell you, but I can't..." he paused, mid-room, and stared at the books on the far wall. Then shook himself back to reality. Started to pace, and smoke again. Agitated. He looked caged. "Not right now, Ok? I need... I need to know stuff." He pivoted to face his brother. "I thought you'd probably tell me. Without having am mental break down. I'm right, aren't I?" Nikolas had stood, and was standing with his back to the desk now. He nodded, slightly. "You're right." Lucky's eyes studied him. Then he smiled. And it was a real smile this time. Ironic around the edges, but believable. Like a blinding flash of happiness that leapt up out of nowhere and quickly receded. "Knew I could count on you." "Always," Nikolas said the word low and steeped with meaning. Bowing under the weight of sincerity. Lucky just nodded and started to pace again. "Big party down there," he pointed out. Nikolas nodded. "Celebration," he turned and looked Nikolas directly in the eye. "Anniversary?" Lucky, it seemed, had done some spying. "Their fifth." The corners of his mouth twitched a little. Like he was fighting another smile. "Your parents." "No," it was an automatic answer, and he immediately thought better. "Well. Yes. How did you get in here?" Lucky batted the question away. "Stefan and Laura, right? Your parents. How are they not your parents." Nikolas made a face. This was the worst thing about people returning from the dead. It made you reflect on things long passed. "Well... it turns out..." he laughed, slightly. "I'm... Not not the Prince." Lucky looked at him in utter bewilderment, so Nikolas forced himself to carry on. "Short version is.... Pretty much everything I grew up believing was what had really happened. It's just that my uncle -- he thought it was different. He thought he was my father, but that was just a trick. So." "You're still Stavros's." Nikolas glanced around the room, trying to find something interesting to look at. "Yeah." Lucky stood still a moment, absorbing that. "I'm sorry," he said, finally. And he meant it. Nikolas could hear that, clear as day. "So was I," he admitted. "You run things now?" "For the past year." "Wow," Lucky started back towards the desk. After a moment's hesitation, he stubbed his cigarette out on a random coaster and picked up the pack again. " So what else happened? What's going on with you? Are you married? Do you have kids?" "I was almost married. It went awry." "So no." "No." "What happened to her?" Nikolas shrugged. "She made other choices. We loved each other, but..." He leaned back far enough that he could only see the top of the walls. The ceiling. "Wasn't enough." "Ok," Lucky had drawn another cigarette and was lighting it again. "Lulu?" he asked, as he flicked his lighter. "Lulu's great," he stumbled over the word, questioning it's use right in the middle of the thought. Oh, too hell with it. He might as well know. "She lives here.... No one sees much of your Dad anymore." "I figured." "He stuck around for awhile after... But once Laura and Uncle were married..." "Vanished into parts unknown." Another long drag. Lucky tipped his head back and blew the smoke upwards. "He was always good in a crisis." "You could look for him. He shows up sometimes." "Yeah," Lucky looked over at Nikolas, his mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "I'll think about that." He scratched the back of his neck, thoughtfully, then spit out, "Emily?" Nikolas laughed slightly. Loaded question, though there was no way for him to know that. "Don't know if you'd believe me." "I saw she was downstairs." "Yeah." Lucky looked at him pointedly. "She's not with me, if that's what you're hinting at. But she's living in the guest house. Temporarily. She's in the middle of a divorce." "Divorce." "Yeah. She married pretty young." "Anyone I'd know?" "Zander Smith," he laughed, breathlessly. He really hated this topic. "You're going to hate him." Lucky smiled thinly. "Yeah?" "Once you get the whole story? It's a lock." He tipped his head back. Looked up at the ceiling overhead. The question was hanging in the air and he decided not to make his brother ask it. "She's married, Lucky." There was a long silence. The sound of another deep inhale/exhale. Nikolas waited. "Yeah, I figured." "More than that. She's got a kid. She's pregnant with another one." Lucky nodded. And nodded. And nodded. "She happy?" "I don't know," Nikolas frowned. "After... It happened, Elizabeth and I... We were pretty close. She needed someone, and I thought... I thought it was what you'd want." Lucky nodded. Stared off into the distance for awhile before murmuring. "Thank you." Nikolas felt a brief nagging shame, but pushed it aside. His feelings for Liz, as ancient as they were now, were definitely not something he needed to share right now. Or ever. "But she got involved with someone I... I gotta admit, I didn't like. And since then..." "Who?" Nikolas rubbed a hand over his face. "Jason Morgan." Another long silence. Then Lucky stubbed the cigarette out. "He still in the mob?" "Anyone's guess." "So yeah." "Probably." There was a long silence. Nikolas had nothing else to offer and Lucky wasn't asking any questions. Finally, Lucky let out a groan. "I gotta say something to you." Nikolas raised his head, looking over at him questioningly. "I really did come here cause... I couldn't see facing anyone else. Not yet. And cause... I never really had a lot of close friends. Not the way..." he shook his head. "What was going on with us when... The fire happened. I wanted that. It was important to me. And I knew, somehow... Things might be totally different with everyone else, in some weird way, we'd probably be the same." "Are we?" "Maybe." He smiled slightly. And it really was a heartbreaking attempt. One that made Nikolas feel cold and inexplicably angry. Not at his brother. But at whatever had happened. Whoever was responsible. "The party's breaking up," he said, quietly. "You could go downstairs. See Mother." "She'd have a heart attack." "Yeah. But after that, she'd be happy." Very happy. So happy Nikolas wasn't sure he had it in him to watch. "I don't know," Lucky ran his hand through his hair a few times. Compulsive gesture. "I saw that party, you know? I keep thinking walking into that room would be like It's A Wonderful Life in reverse." He turned and leaned back on the desk. Stared down at the carpet a long time before murmuring. "It's been really bad Nikolas. Like more than I can right now. And I come back here, and it's like I'm the last unicorn or something. I just... I can't get my head around it." "Ok," Nikolas said for lack of anything else. It wasn't really like Lucky was wrong. The Spencers, in a lot of ways, just didn't exist anymore. "But... We really need you back, Lucky. I mean... As much as it might look like things are fine? They're not. None of us got over it. None of us." And it happened again. A million little moments, emotions, realizations, swept across his brothers face. Lucky lifted his hand up to his mouth, as if he still thought it held the cigarette, and this time it was his brother who was shaking. He touched his lips lightly with two fingers, then let his hand drop. "You swear?" "I swear." "'Cause it doesn't look like there's much room for me in the family portrait, you know?" Nikolas shook his head. It was such a moot point. No matter what they'd all turned into, it was going to change now. The impossible had happened. Lucky Spencer was back from the dead. "Don't worry about room," Nikolas said, getting to his feet. "We'll make room."   My five points are:   1) Spencers never stopped running. 2) Nikolas had never come to PC. 3) If Lizzie had never been raped. 4) The fire was never set. 5) The Brainwashing never worked.   HOME