Chapter 92


Note: Parts of this chapter are not for the faint of heart. Some violence was required to move the storyline along. It's not meant to be gratuitous. The content is disturbing but as realistic as I could make it. I hesitate to name specifics because I don't want to ruin the surprise. That said, I know I really hate when a writer doesn't warn me about the stuff that makes my stomach flip, so consider yourself duly warned!

At the end of the chapter, I defined some of the potentially confusing terms.

Evans paces the length of his cell while rubbing the top of his head. He doesn't feel right, the walls of his cell don't look right. They are moving for one thing. It takes every bit of his concentration to put one foot in front of the other. He stops and rolls his head back against his shoulders. If he could just clear his head....

"You okay?" Biggins asks from his bunk.

"I... don't..." Evans swallows with difficulty. His vision is a swirl of brilliant colors.

Biggins sits up. "You don't look so good, Man."

Breaking out in a sweat, Evans bends over and proclaims. "May the Lord have mercy on your soul. He who walks in the valley..."

Biggins hops off his bunk and to the bars. "HEY! WE NEED SOME HELP HERE! ANYONE?! WE NEED SOME HELP!"

A few moments later an irritated corrections officer arrives. "Yeah, what's the problem?"

Biggins points to Evans. "It's him, something's wrong with him. He's acting screwy."

The corrections officer notices Evans bent over panting heavily, his eyes bugged out. The officer opens the cell and approaches him. "Evans, can you tell me what's wrong?"

Before the officer has a chance to react, Evans leaps on him with such force that it slams the officer against the bars. Evans's hands wrap around the officer's throat. "DEVIL! SATAN'S DISCIPLE!" He screams.

Biggins shrinks to the back of his cell, out of the way. "HELP! SOMEBODY! EVANS HAS GONE BERSERK!!"

Within moments, more corrections officers are swarming the cell, each grabbing one of Evans's flailing limbs. One officer pulls out a Taser to subdue him.

"SONOVABITCH!" One of the officers bellows from the fray. "HE BIT ME!"

"HE'S POISON TO FABRIC OF SOCIETY! RECRUITING FOR THE DEVIL! I WILL DESTROY SATAN AND HIS DISCIPLES AND RID THE WORLD OF EVIL!" Evans's ranting ceases abruptly when the Taser makes contact. He collapses on the concrete floor.



The door to the jail infirmary is buzzed open, and two officers drag a cuffed and more subdued Evans through the door. "Hey, Doc!" One yells out, "We've got a live one for you. Good thing for us this was your day in the jail."

A short stout balding man emerges from his office. "Burns beeped me a few minutes ago to warn me you were coming. He eyes the wild-eyed Evans from head to toe. "When you used the Taser, how long was Evans incapacitated?"

"Just a minute or two, long enough to get him cuffed."

"Prepare for the Apocalypse!" Evans snarls, revving up. "You will burn in hell! Satan is ready to receive you."

The doctor addresses Evans. "I'm Dr Swanson. You are inmate Evans, I presume?"

"I am God, Sinner," Evans says with a sneer. "Bow to me, I am ready for your confession." He glowers at the two officers holding him up in a firm grip. "Satan's helpers! You unhand me now or there will be no mercy." When they don't let him go, he lunges toward the one on his right, teeth gnashing. The officer on his left shoves Evans to the floor to his knees.

"Do that again, Evans, and we'll tase you. Remember how much you liked it last time?"

"I believe I have something which will be much more effective. Most fascinating...The infamous psychiatrist is psychotic..." Turning to the medication cabinets behind him, Dr Swanson pulls a set a keys out of his pocket and unlocks them to reveal dozens of small drawers. He runs his finger over the drawer labels until he finds the one he wants and pulls it out. "Aha, there it is. Haldol. Haven't had to use this in a while..." He unwraps a fresh syringe and upending the vial, sticks the needle into the vial and draws in desired dosage. He smiles benignly at Evans. "Just relax, this ugly episode will be over in just a moment..."

Evans redoubles his efforts to fight them off. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"


In the silence after Luke's history lesson, Carly sits with her uncle at her kitchen table, staring at the coffee stains in her cup as she considers what he has told her. "You know how ridiculous all this sounds, don't you? It's like a B-Rated horror flick."

Luke bares his teeth briefly. "Don't you go making fun of me, Girlie. I've survived many a year of Cassadine madness doing it my way. I'm not going to apologize for any of it."

"No, of course you wouldn't. Not the 'Great Luke Spencer'." Carly rolls her eyes. Lord, he was so annoyingly smug. "So what's the Spencer plan this time?"

"I'll keep an eye on things down here while you go pack a few things for you and Michael." Luke takes the last sip of cold coffee and grimaces when he gets a mouthful of mud.

Carly leans back. She can play this game. "You have to be kidding me. You don't seriously think I'm gonna bow my head and just go along with your brilliant plan without knowing what it is, do you?"

"Can't see why not." He rises from the table and goes to pour himself another cup from the coffee pot. "Those Spencer plans you mock have kept me alive for twenty years because I don't go around shooting my mouth off about them. I see no reason to change now."

"And yet Helena has survived all those amazingly effective Spencer schemes, hasn't she?" Carly challenges. "I think your plans haven't been as successful as you claim."

"No, it just means that I haven't had a pressing need to kill off Granny Grim. If I actually put my mind to it, she'd be dead. Which is just what I'm gonna do when I know my niece and her little rugrat are tucked away safe." Leaning against the kitchen counter, Luke sips his coffee. "So shoo, Darlin'. I've got places to be and plots to plan."

"Who says I'm going anywhere?" Carly says obstinately, rising to put her coffee cup in her sink. "I think I'll stick around and make sure your plan works this time."

"Damn it, Woman!" Luke slams down his coffee cup, splashing some of the coffee onto the counter. "Didn't I just spend the last hour explaining everything to you, down to the hidden lab and the frozen Cassadine heir?! Did you forget the part where Mama Cass was sent to the psycho ward for trying to kill me in open court? Did you miss the lesson about her tendency to murder her enemies? Do you need me to get Alexis here to recite the gory details of how Helena slit her mother's throat?"

"NO!" Carly snaps defensively, crossing her arms in front of her body. "I get the Spencer doctrine, okay? Helena is deadly. I need to leave town with Michael for our safety while you play hero and rid us all of the scourge of Port Charles."

"Now you're getting with the program." Luke shoos her with his hands. "Go on now. As soon as you're packed and you and your bambino are on your way out of town, I can concentrate on Helena."

"Unlike you and the rest of your vagabond family, I can't just pack up and leave on a moment's notice. I have have responsibilities I take seriously." Carly starts ticking them off. "For one, Jason has Michael, so I need to retrieve him and explain to Jason why we're splitting town. For another, I need to close up the house. Vincent just made me partner in the business and I can't leave him in the lurch without at least contacting him and making arrangements for how business will be handled while I'm away. It's going to take a few hours, and I'm not going to do any of it while you're hovering, watching every move I make. I'm a big girl. I can pack and leave without you baby-sitting me."

"If I thought I could stuff you in a trunk without you escaping, I'd ship you overseas." Luke picks up his coffee cup and drains it. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you are?"

"Not any more trouble than you are." Carly retorts, lifting her chin defiantly. Mocking his earlier actions, she makes a shooing motion with her hands. "Go on. The sooner you're out of my hair, the sooner I can get ready to leave town. I'll call you on my way out."

"Call Barbara Jean before you do anything else," Luke grouses. "She's worried sick about you. For the life of me, I don't know why she's so attached to you. You are more hassle than you're worth."

Carly blows a kiss as she ushers him to her front door. "I love you too, Uncle Luke. Now get out so I can get ready to leave."

Luke opens her front door then turns around to face her one last time. "Call your mother."

"As soon as you leave. Cross my heart." Closing the door behind Luke, a relieved Carly leans against it. "Finally! I thought he'd never leave." Leaping into action, she takes the steps two at a time up to her bedroom. She has a lot to get done before Luke figured out she wasn't following his plan. At least not to the letter.




Looking up from his paperwork, Dr Swanson waves the towering black man into his small office. "Come on in, Sheriff Burns. I assume you are here about Evans?"

"You guessed it." Sheriff Burns ambles into the Doctor's office and shuts the door before continuing. "As you might have expected, we've filed assault charges because of his attack on several officers. But I wanted to check with you about Hepatitis C and HIV testing on Evans. Pengold is at the ER getting treated. They are starting him on cocktail of Anti-HIV medications to prevent potential infection, but they want Evans tested ASAP."

"It's already been done." The doctor signs one of the inmate chart notes and closes the folder. He turns to face the larger man. "Blood and saliva samples have been sent off for processing, but even with a rush order, it'll be a few days before we know. Tough bit of luck for Pengold. He's going to have a rough couple days waiting until we find out for sure."

"An officer's worst nightmare," Burns agrees, leaning against the door jam. "What is Evans's condition now?"

The doctor strokes his jaw thoughtfully as he leans back in his chair. "It is the oddest thing. I haven't seen a case like this in nearly 10 years. My first hypothesis was that he ingested a drug that induced his psychosis, but his toxicology labs came back negative for everything."

"I suppose I should be relieved that I don't have to search the inmates for contraband," The sheriff says, seeing the silver lining. "But if it isn't drugs, what caused him to go nuts?"

"My current diagnosis is brief reactive psychosis due to the stress of being in the jail environment. But to be frank, his condition doesn't fit that explanation very well either. For one, his delusions are religious in content, which is more consistent with either schizophrenia or a manic episode. For another, if this were a reactive psychosis, a single dose of Haldol should have brought him around. But it took two injections of Haldol to sedate him enough so we could manage him. I had to put him in 4 point restraints just to get his bloodwork. So this case is quite baffling."

"Where have you placed him?"

"After the blood samples were taken, I had him stripped and put in the blue room for his safety." Swanson shrugs. "Given the unpredictability of his behavior, it was a necessary precaution. We're monitoring him. Once he's calmed sufficiently, we will move him to one of individual cells in the infirmary."

"And what's his behavior now?"

"He's curled up on a ball, rocking himself. Every so often he starts his religious ranting. I hope that with some time and regular anti-psychotics he will recompensate. But I won't know that for a day or two at the earliest."

"What is your recommendation, Doctor? Does the DA needs to petition for a court order to a psych facility or can you handle him here?"

Swanson nods confidently. "I can handle him here for now, but if his psychiatric condition doesn't substantially improve over the next few days, the DA and Evans's attorney may want to request a competency evaluation. As it stands now, he won't be able to assist in his own defense."

Having gotten the answer he needed, Sheriff Burns pushes off the wall and opens the door. "His arraignment on the assault charges will be in a few hours. I would like you to prepare a report with your recommendations for the judge."

"I will get right on it, Sheriff."


The Cassadine Retreat.


Emily peers through the open doorway to the retreat. "Nikolas? You in here?"

A distant voice answers. "I'm in the den...."

Emily follows the sound of his voice to the den. Popping her head in first, she finds Nikolas in the midst of a pile of boxes, pulling books from an open box and putting them on shelves. "What's going on?"

"I'm moving in." Nikolas places the books on the shelf before crossing over to where Emily is. Cupping her face in his hands, he tilts her head back and draws her into a drugging kiss. Emily sags against the door jam, welcoming his tongue into her mouth and kissing him back fervently. Out of breath, Nikolas ends the kiss. Forehead pressed forehead, he smiles at her. Already his mood is 100% better than it was before she arrived. "Hi."

Emily smiles at him dreamily. "Hi... I know I asked you a question just a second ago, but I can't bring myself to care enough to remember what is was."

Nikolas grins before capturing her mouth again, leaning his body into hers and burying his fingers in her hair. She was so beautiful and sexy he just wanted to lose himself in her.

He groans when her hands begin slipping the buttons of his shirt out of the holes and to reveal bare skin. The slowness of it is driving him mad, he suddenly wants all of her at once. As his hands cup her bottom to lift her off the ground, they hear the sound of the sliding door in another part of the house closing.

Emily stops cold, ripping her mouth away from his. Her breaths coming in pants, she asks. "What was that?"

In his mind, Nikolas swears in five languages before answering her. "Guards."The guards must learn how to be completely silent from now on, or he'd have to have them killed.

Emily pushes against his chest to create a a few inches of distance between them, The moment is ruined. "Guards?"

Nikolas gives up the ghost by turning away from Emily back to his box of books. "Stefan insisted I have guards. He's convinced Helena will harm one of us now that she's out of the hospital."

"Oh wow..." Emily breathes in deeply to bring oxygen to her deprived brain. "There here to protect you then..." She takes in his sullen appearance. "You hate this, huh?"

"Why should I?" Nikolas answers bitterly. "This is my life. Cassadine Prince with a psychopathic grandmother who wants to kill everyone. It's only been the last couple years that my father has allowed me the luxury to move about without guards. So I should be grateful for the brief respite, right?"

"You don't sound grateful."

"He still treats me like I'm ten years old. I am so tired of how he manages my life like I am incapable of making decisions for myself. He didn't even ask, Emily." He's so angry he doesn't even wait for her answer. "He put guards on me, and had the audacity to 'ask' afterwards. And when I refused the guards, did he honor that? No. So I moved out of Wyndemere today. My stay there was temporary anyway."

Emily walks up behind Nikolas and puts a comforting hand on his back. "I'm so sorry, Nikolas. I know what it's like not to be respected by your parents. It's infuriating. I don't understand why he won't respect your right to be an adult. You are the smartest most level-headed man I know."

"So now I am saddled with guards shadowing my every move for God knows how long. He says he'll have Helena taken care of within the week, but I don't believe it. It'll never be over. He'll find another reason to force guards on me because he doesn't trust me to take care of myself. I'm surprised he hasn't found a way to meddle in my marrying you..." He thinks for a moment then rolls his eyes skyward. "Wait, I take that back, he already has."

Emily's eyes widen. "He has?"

Nikolas turns to face Emily and pulls her into him, his arms wrapping around her waist. "He stopped us from getting married at Gretna Green."

"If I remember correctly, I called it off," Emily corrects, not wanting to lay her decision at Stefan's door and add fuel to Nikolas's fury.

"Immediately after I fought with him," Nikolas retorts before subsiding. Burying his face in her hair, he breathes in her sweet scent. "I missed you."

Emily wraps her arms around Nikolas's neck. "I missed you, too. You've had a bad day."

Nikolas strokes the back of her head lovingly. Lord she feels so good. It was hard to remain mad in her presence. Even as infuriating as Stefan was. "It's improving now that you're here. Can you stay for a while?"

"Yep. But I promised Dad I'd have dinner with him at the Grille tonight. He said he'd like you to be there too."

Nikolas hand stills on Emily's head. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"He promised he would be civilized and I believe him." Emily pulls back so she can look at him. Seeing his apprehension she strokes the side of his face. "We need to tell him about our engagement some time. If we tell him some place public he's less likely to act out."

Nikolas nods in resignation. Probably best they get it over with. "I told my father that we set the date of our wedding. He offered the use of the grounds at Wyndemere and to help you with preparations. I didn't promise him anything."

Emily looks away. "I'll have to think about it..."

Nikolas kisses her forehead, wanting to banish the sadness from her eyes. "I'm sure your grandmother would want you to have our wedding in her rose garden," He says gently.

Emily shakes her head. "I can't go to the mansion right now. Not if there's a chance I'm going to run into Monica."

"I'm sure that can be arranged. I could go with you too, if you like."

"I'll think about it." Emily presses a kiss to the base of his throat, trailing nibbling kisses up his neck to his chin. She smiles when she feels Nik's moan rumble up his throat. "So... what are the chances we'll could get some privacy before we have to go to the Grille?"

Nikolas tugs on her hair to bring her face up to be kissed. "Excellent if we lock the door. If they dare to interrupt us again, I'll have them beheaded."

Emily grins at his joke. "I love it when you go all royal on me."



Judge Bandwick reads over the file while the defense and prosecuting attorneys wait patiently. After a few moments he puts the file down and removes his spectacles. "Mr Boonstra, your client, William Harold Evans has been charged with two counts of assault of a peace officer and two counts of attempted assault of a peace officer. How does he wish to plead?"

"You Honour, if I may," The defense attorney Boonstra interjects. "I request that my client be released from custody so that he may receive the inpatient psychiatric treatment he so critically needs..."

"Have you even spoken to your client before this hearing, Mr Boonstra?" Prosecutor Harry Barlow interjects, clearly annoyed. "Your Honour, his client is violently psychotic! The idea that he could be released from custody to go anywhere is preposterous and would put the public unnecessarily at risk. Unless, of course, Mr Boonstra plans to drive his client to the state hospital himself?"

The judge lifts his hand to silence the attorneys "Enough. Mr Evans choked one peace officer, tried to bite three others, and succeeded in biting one while they were trying to subdue him. He will remain at the jail under the supervision of Dr Swanson, who feels competent to handle his care. Further, I am revoking bail for his previous charge. I am setting another hearing in five days to determine if he has stabilized. If he has, I will entertain motions for bail. But if he is still psychotic, a decision will be made whether to order him for a competency evaluation and restoration at the State Hospital." The judge bangs his gavel. "Court is adjourned."



Helena picks up her phone on the first ring. "Helena Cassadine. Is there any news?"

Evans's bail has been revoked and he's confined to the jail infirmary with an apparent psychotic break.

Helena lips curve into a wry smile. "Excellent! I have a feeling this evening will turn out to be one of good fortune."

"Do you have any further instructions for me?"

"Continue to monitor the situation and report back to me if his circumstances change."

Yes, Mrs Cassadine.


"His bail has been revoked?" He asks again, to be certain.

And Evans has been moved to the jail infirmary for treatment of a psychotic break. The judge has scheduled another hearing in five days.

"Excellent. You will keep me informed of his status." After hearing an affirmative answer, Stefan hangs up. For the first time in days, something has gone as it should.

Crossing over to his decanter of Port on the liquor cart, Stefan unstops it and pours a generous amount into his wine glass. He picks up his glass and moves over to the bookcase to pick out a volume of classic Russian literature.

Perhaps, he thinks to himself wryly, with some good Port and dry reading material, he will win his battle with insomnia tonight.



Chapter 93


"There you are, Mrs Moore," The ticket agent says kindly, obviously taken with the pretty young blonde. "Tickets for you and your son. In about five minutes you can board your bus at gate 3. You should get into Rochester about 9pm, in plenty of time to take the 10 o'clock to Philadelphia."

Carly flashes him a grateful smile, allowing a soft southern drawl to creep into her voice. "You have been too kind, Mr Hammons. I surely would have been lost without your most generous assistance. You have a nice night now." She slides the bus tickets and her fake ID off the ticket counter and into her purse.

Leading Michael to the row of orange plastic chairs that are bolted to the floor, Carly collapses into one seat and plops her overnight bag and Michael's car seat on the ground at her feet. Michael climbs up into the chair next to her.

Carly watches Michael run his toy car along the top of the seat as she fights off a wave mental exhaustion. Luke's appearance on her doorstep an hour ago, armed with a fake ID and a box full of ridiculous disguises, is the only reason she is at the bus depot ready to take last bus out of Port Charles. Ignoring her protests and attempts to delay, he'd given her a 38 for protection before ushering her into his Caddy and delivering her and Michael to the bus station.

So here she was, trying to figure out what the heck she was going to do now.

The tiniest of hopes had sprouted this morning when Luke dropped his bomb about Helena, and ever since she's been at war with herself. She'd changed her mind at least a hundred times. One minute she was ready to jump the launch to Spoon Island to confront Stefan on her suspicions, and the next minute she convinced herself it didn't matter what his motives were. He'd set out to hurt her intentionally, she wanted nothing more to do with him, and she couldn't take yet another brutal rejection at his hands.

And then the little voice inside her would speak: But what if everything Stefan's done was to protect you from Helena?

The closer she gets to leaving Port Charles, the louder that voice got.

And so the internal war rages until a tinny sound of the Depot's PA System interrupts her thoughts.

The bus to Rochester is now available for boarding at gate 3. Please have your ticket and your photo ID ready when you board.



Helena is combing her hair methodically when she notices Andreas's reflection in her mirror. "Do you have news, Andreas?"

"Luke Spencer just attempted to sneak on board. He scuffled with two of the guards and was pushed overboard."

Helena twists around in her chair to look at Andreas directly. "He is unharmed, then?"

"The guards were careful to follow your instructions."

"Good." Helena smiles smugly as she puts down her brush. "I don't want him harmed just yet. I want him alive and well when he gets my present. Has it been located?"

"Nothing yet, Madame."

Helena rises gracefully from her chair and crosses the room to where Andreas is. She pats his cheek affectionately. "You look a bit tired, Andreas. Have I been working you too hard?"

Andreas is careful not to look directly in her eyes. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, undetected by her. "Is there anything else you require?"

"Why don't you take the evening off?" She suggests, presses a kiss into his cheek. Her lipstick leaves a blood red mark. "I won't need you until I'm ready to retire. Which won't be for several hours yet."

Andreas bows his head slightly. "You are most generous to think of me, Madame."


Stefan barely manages to stumble to the commode before spewing the contents of his stomach. The nausea hit him so suddenly he's seeing stars. Panting and weak, he rests his head against the rim and closes his eyes. He can't recall the last time he's been violently ill so rapidly. Could it be...? No, she had no access and if she had, he'd be dead already. It had to be something else.

Finally catching his breath, he forces himself off his knees and upright onto his unsteady legs. The room dips and sways so dramatically that he grabs the doorjamb to keep from falling. The wood of the doorway feels solid, physical. Reassuring. He places his other hand on the sink basin. Carefully he turns the cold tap and gathers enough in his hand to splash on his face. The cold water feels clean and crisp against his clammy skin. Just as carefully he turns the water off.

So weak, so tired. He needs to rest. All he has to do is walk the few feet to his bed and he could lie down and rest.

If he could just ignore the throbbing of his head.

With leaden legs Stefan lumbers the last few feet to the corner of his bed. The effort of making the trip causes him to break out into a sweat. Flashes of hot, then cold. He shivers. Finally, his fingers brush the silky material of his comforter. He is there. With supreme effort he lifts one knee onto the mattress before collapsing onto the bed. He uses his elbows to lever himself onto his back and his head on the pillow. He breathes in thickly once and closes his eyes. If he doesn't feel better soon, he'll call for the doctor. But first he needs to rest and regain his strength.

Luke accepts the outstretched hand and pulls himself up out of the water onto the dock. "Whew! Good thing it's not winter. That's all I can say."

Roy gives a dripping wet Luke a towel and a duffle bag. "So explain to me why I am fishing you out of the lake tonight?"

"It's all part of my plan, Roy. All part of my plan." Luke presses face into the fluffy towel to dry it. "I'm lulling the Black Widow into a false sense of security by letting her guards catch me."

"How does that work exactly? By making her believe you are a bumbling idiot?"

Luke grins at his long time friend. "Exactly! How did ya guess?"

Roy rolls his eyes but doesn't answer the question. "So what's next?"

"Well first, I change. Then, we implement the real plan for tonight." Luke walks a few yards and looks back at Roy who is still standing there looking at him like he's a lunatic. "Well, aren't you coming?"

The duffle bag starts to ring. Luke unzips it, rummages around and extracts a cell phone.

"Yeah, Spencer here."

It's Jack. Got some news on Evans.

"Oh really? I take it he's not going to make bail?"

You guessed it. He's in the infirmary now under lock and key. Word is, he's not going anywhere anytime soon.

Luke grins into the phone. "That's the best news I've heard all night! Thanks for the info, My Friend. Keep in touch and let me know if things change for our mutual acquaintance."

You got it.




The lithe black clad figure slips through the secret panel into the bedroom. She crosses over to the bed in the middle of the room and circles it, observing the still male form lying there, noting his even breathing and vulnerable position.

Just as she wants him. Alive but helpless.

She puts a knee on the bed and crawls towards him. With a gloved hand she brushes a lock of hair off his forehead. "Son of my loins," She whispers in a seductive voice. "Wake. Look upon your devoted mother one last time."



The Grille

"I'm serious, Dad, we're getting married."

Tense silence reigns at the Quartermaine table. Nikolas and Emily have their hands tightly clasped together under it as they wait for the inevitable explosion.

Instead Alan signals for the waiter. "I would like a scotch, double, straight up."

"Certainly, Dr Quartermaine," The waiter answers politely, then vanishes to do Alan's bidding.

Alan loosens the tie around his neck. Damn it. Where is Monica when he needs her? For all her blindness where Carly is concerned, she'd know how to steer them through this minefield.

Despite the outward appearance of dysfunction, He felt they worked remarkably well together in situations like this. They had clear rules about how they functioned as a couple during a family crisis. Only one of them got to explode at a time while the other was there to mop up the damage. And they took turns to keep things even. This time it was clearly HIS turn to explode. It really wasn't fair not having her here to fix things. So now he had to be a responsible level-headed parent when he didn't feel like being one. But given how precarious things were with Emily, he really didn't have a choice anyway.

"Dad..." Emily speaks in a pleading tone, obviously anxious in the extended silence. "It's not that bad. Please..."

The look Alan gives his daughter is more of a grimace than a smile. His voice is strained. "Who said anything about it being bad?"

"Dr Quartermaine, if I may..." Nikolas begins.

Alan puts his hand up to signal silence, not yet trusting himself to listen to the man who was going to steal his daughter away. He needed his drink to take the edge off first. "Hold on." A moment later the waiter returns with Alan's scotch. Emily and Nikolas's stomachs sink as Alan tosses back the drink in one gulp.

Alan forces a bright smile. "So you two crazy kids have decided to get married, have you? Well that's just great!"

Nikolas swallows convulsively, the memory of being choked by this man still fresh in his mind. He's not fooled by Alan's sudden show of friendliness. He knows Alan would kill him if he thought he could get away with it. Nikolas took a moment to be thankful that Stefan was more accepting. At least they didn't have two sets of parents to fight. "I love your daughter very much, Dr Quartermaine. I plan to devote my life to making her happy. That's my first priority above anything else."

Emily reaches across the table to touch the back of her father's hand. "I've thought long and hard about getting married to Nikolas and I know this is what I want. And I'm certain we have what it takes to have a good marriage. Please be happy for me, Dad."

Alan's smile gets wider and faker. "Who says I'm not happy? I'm giddy. Can't you tell?"

"DAD?!" Emily exclaims, not buying his false bravado. "Come on."

"Really, I think it's terrific," Alan says with false enthusiasm. "Congratulations. So when's the date?"

"October 12th," Nikolas says quietly, wincing at the tight hold Emily has on his hand.

"Oh! So soon?!" Alan signals the waiter again. He's going to need a lot more alcohol to get through this dinner without throttling Nikolas. "I want a bottle of your best Champagne. You are old enough to drink, aren't you Nikolas? Oh, and for my daughter, some sparkling Apple Cider in a champagne flute. My daughter just told me she's getting married. Isn't that wonderful?!"



Stefan's eyes open. His head is pounding and it hurts to try to focus the three blurred yet identical figures weaving in front of his face.

The angel of death with a golden halo brushes his hair back. He tries to move but he can't. This must be what it's like to be dead.

"There you are, My Darling." The voice of his mother comes from the angel. No.. not angel. Devil personified. He is in Hell.

Or perhaps he isn't dead yet, he amends. It takes him only a moment to figure it out. The Port.. he should have guessed. She drugged him to carry his murder out. She would do that. She would want to watch him die.

"I don't want you to miss my parting words, " Helena continues, stroking his cheek with her gloved finger, her voice soft like a caress as it delivers her vitriol. "My second son, I could not loathe you more than I do at this moment. Weak, pathetic, treacherous worm that you are. You will not walk this earth when your brother cannot. My beloved Stavros should be alive and you should be dead. I cannot bear your existence a moment longer now that he is gone .... but I want to see you draw your last breath just as I saw you breathe your first."

Helena's smile is hideous. All three of them.

Finally Stefan gets his fingers to move, to clench and unclench the sheet by his hand. And if he can move his hand, he can move the rest. He just has to focus his brain on giving his body the right commands at the right moment. And he had to figure out which of the three Helenas was the 'real' one.

Helena pulls a dagger out of her leather boot and draws the blade across his cheek, not pressing hard enough to mar the skin. "I did not know when you were born that I would despise you more as you grew. I foolishly thought if I tried hard enough I would come to love you with time. I should have drowned you the first chance I had."

Stefan tightens and relaxes his leg muscles until he's sure his sluggish brain has mastery of it. It was slow, but better with each attempt. The element of surprise would be crucial to his success.

"Because then Stavros would be alive now. At my side." Down to his ear Helena's knife gently slides, still not breaking skin. Toying with him, as she always loved to do. Stefan suppresses a shiver. "That was my mistake, allowing you to live at all. But you will pay for your betrayal with your life, Dear Stefan. You did not seriously think you fooled me? I knew the moment Luke told me he killed Stavros that you had a hand in this treachery. " The knife point pricks his skin, emitting it's first drop of blood. Helena smiles again at the sight of it.

"You will die and Nikolas will be mine to control once you are gone," Helena gloats triumphantly. "You will not be able to keep him from me any longer. Say goodnight, Dear Son. We have come full circle."

Just as Helena draws the knife away from the skin briefly to angle it to slit his throat, Stefan rolls to his side suddenly, his back to her as he propels himself to the edge of the bed. The knife slashes his shoulder and upper back open and stabs through his pillow into the mattress.

"Damn you, Stefan!" Helena roars, tearing at the pillow to try and free her dagger. Feathers fly.

Gaining momentum, Stefan rolls completely off the bed onto the floor. The drug in the Port, still strong in his system, hampers him. Only with supreme effort can he move, but pain and adrenaline give him clarity. After landing on his butt, he twists around so he's on his hands and knees, facing her. His back and shoulder are afire with pain, but he focuses only on his assailant.

The dagger finally free, Helena rears back on her haunches on the bed, towering over him. With an arcing motion she rends the air with the dagger down towards her son's exposed back. At the last moment Stefan rises up to block the blow with his forearm, but is too late to stop the blow completely. The dagger slices his forearm open and the pain causes him to cry out.

Screaming and off balance, Helena stops her descent with her free hand on the top of the bed. The knife lodges into the side edge of the mattress, propelling her forward towards the floor. To prevent herself from falling at Stefan's feet, she releases the knife and scrambles onto the mattress.

Stefan dives for the knife, but the hallucinogenic effects of the poison Helena gave him make it almost impossible for him to discern exactly which image is the actual knife. Finally, his hand makes contact with the hilt just as Helena grasps the knife to pull it out of the mattress.

Under normal circumstances, his mother would be no match for him physically but the combination of the poison and loss of blood from her attacks sap his strength. He feels like he's fighting underwater his movements are so removed from him. He can sense his strength waning.

Using her hatred and adrenaline to give herself an extra burst of energy, Helena, with both hands on the dagger and Stefan's hands on top of hers, wrenches the weapon upwards towards the ceiling in a final attempt to wrest the knife from Stefan. Stefan hangs on, and with the last of his strength peels her fingers back off the hilt of the dagger. Freed, the blade bounces soundlessly to the carpeted floor by Stefan's knees.

Whether from the pain, the loss of blood, or the poison it is uncertain, but Stefan loses consciousness. As he collapses, he knocks Helena back on the bed before sliding onto the floor on top of the knife.



Carly entered Wyndemere's conservatory from the secret panel. There were certain advantages to having lived at Wyndemere those first few months with Stefan. She knew the way into the mansion that didn't require permission from it's occupant. By now, Mrs Lansbury would have retired for the night, and Carly didn't want to take the risk that Stefan would slam the door in her face. She figured she stood a better chance of an honest answer if she surprised him.

The conservatory was pitch black, which for this hour was unheard of. Carly knew Stefan never retired this early, even if he sent his staff to bed. He rarely had a full night's sleep so he usually stayed up into the wee hours of the morning. Unless... unless Stefan was out for the evening. She hadn't considered he might not be here.

Carly clicked on the lamp by the nearest end table. No, if Stefan were out, the conservatory would be illuminated. She strolled around the room, at war with what do now. Did she seek him out or leave? To come this far, to ditch the bus and pack Michael back to Jason's for the night.. only to not find Stefan.... what a let down.

Carly was pacing the length of the room when she heard a loud thump from upstairs. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. Loud thumps just didn't happen at Wyndemere as a normal course of things.

"Stefan?!" Carly called out, hoping to get a response, praying that one of the grandfather clocks fell over. Anything but what she's imagining at this moment.

Nothing.

There was really no other choice. Fear multiplying exponentially in her gut, Carly took the steps two at a time and ran down the hall to Stefan's room. Without regard to what she might find, she slammed open the door. There she found her worst nightmare: Stefan, face down at the side of the bed, his blood staining the carpet around him.

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