There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

- Anais Nin

January 19, 1999

Kelly’s August 26, 1998

"Does everyone treat you like the Mrs. King of crime?"

"Yeah, it happens a lot, actually."

"How do you live like that? Oh, I know. When you're in love, nothing else matters, right?" Nikolas said, struggling to keep the edge out of his voice.

He expected she would just roll her eyes as she always did when he fretted about her safety or hinted that Jason Morgan might be something less than perfect.

And at first, it seemed like she would do just that. She gave him a half-hearted smile, and shrugged. But then her face crumpled and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Robin?" he asked, alarm creeping into his voice as the tears started to roll down her cheeks. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean."

She shook her head, letting her hair fall over her face, hiding the red eyes. "Can we go somewhere else?" she asked, her voice shaky. "I don’t… I can’t do this here."

He steered her towards the parking lot across from the restaurant where his driver was waiting. Her guards followed, confused but not overtly nervous. Nikolas helped her into the car, shut the door partway, hiding her from their view and then informed them they were going to Wyndemere.

Once inside, he told the driver to take the long route to the docks, then turned to her. She had stopped crying, but her lower lip was trembling and her hands were shaking.

"Robin, I’m so sorry. I had no right to push you like that. Especially after yesterday."

"It’s not your fault," she said, but her voice still trembled. "You didn’t say anything Mac didn’t tell me this morning. And I told him what I told Jason last night, that I’m just glad I’m okay and I knew the risks going in. And I did. But…"

Her voice broke and the tears began again.

Nikolas had never felt more helpless in his life. All his old-world training about what it meant to be a gentleman demanded he come to her aid and do something to make her feel better. But all the solutions his brain suggested to him involved saying something harsh and critical about the man she said she loved. So he sat still. Patted her hand. Offered her a handkerchief. And waited.

"I started to tell you what I told Mac. That it was okay. And although I hate what Jason does I love him and it’s worth the risk. And most of the time I believe that, but sometimes it’s really hard. And I feel like if I admit that…"

She shrugged unable to find the words.

"Do you feel like if you admit it, Mac will push more?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Mac will always push. I can’t see Mac not pushing."

They sat in silence for several minutes. She finally spoke again, but her eyes refused to meet his as she gazed out at the streets and people passing by through the tinted glass.

"I feel like it would be disloyal to admit that I’m scared sometimes. That not only do I hate what Jason does, but I hate the life I have to lead because of what he does."

"I don’t think that makes you disloyal, I think that makes you human."

She turned and gave him a slow, sad smile that broke his heart and then looked away. "Maybe."

They reached the docks and Nikolas led her over to the launch. She was passive, seemingly content to go where he directed her, her mind obviously elsewhere. When they reached the island, instead of taking the path up to the house, he took her hand and motioned towards the rocky path that skirted the cliffs. She followed him without protest.

They walked along together, in silent harmony. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the breeze whistling softly through the trees. He couldn’t help but think about the other times they’d walked along this path together. She had come over to the island several times a week to sit in the garden, and talk about nothing and everything because they were young and the world was full of possibilities. And no Jason.

He could sense her relaxing as they continued to walk, her face regaining some of the serenity that drew him to her in the first place. It was her calm, quiet confidence that he found so refreshing.

They returned to the gardens near Wyndemere all too soon for his taste. Robin appeared to share his desire to shut out the rest of the world, and she sat down on the bench near the edge of the garden, and stared out at the bay. He sat beside her, content to keep her company.

"It’s so beautiful today."

"Picture perfect," he agreed. "And just a hint of fog off on the horizon."

She nodded, her eyes distant. "Last night seems so far away – almost surreal."

He didn’t trust himself to answer, so he simply nodded.

"It’s so weird to think that if last night had been different, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you."

Her tone was matter-of-fact, but his body shuddered involuntarily.

"But you are here," he reassured her. "And I, for one, am grateful."

She turned and smiled at him, and he was relieved to see that despite the shadows in her eyes, she was fully there with him again. "I’m rather glad myself. I may be dying, but I would really prefer not to do it anytime soon."

He stared at her, unsure how to respond, and she punched him lightly on the arm and smiled again.

"It’s a joke. Maybe a bad one, but you’ve got to give me points for effort."

He shook his head, and a smile of his own tugged at his lips. "You definitely get points for effort. If I were you, I don’t think I’d be functional, let alone cracking jokes."

Her face grew sober. "Practice, I suppose. I’m used to a certain amount of drama in my life."

"There’s drama and then there’s… well…" He didn’t want to say the words.

"I didn’t sleep last night," she confessed. "I tried but every time I closed my eyes I could see it, the flames shooting out of the windows."

"I had a restless night too. It’s enough to give anyone nightmares."

"I kept thinking about it and I kept thinking about Lily. Sonny’s wife. She died when someone put a bomb in Sonny’s car. She had just found out she was pregnant too. I kept thinking about her and wondering if she had time to realize what had happened. And if it hurt. Or if it was over in an instant. I know I know," she said, as she caught sight of his horrified expression. "I know I shouldn’t think like that. But I did."

He put an arm around her shoulders, and when she leaned into the embrace, he pulled her closer, stroking her back soothingly.

"I know Jason was thinking about it too," she said quietly. "I remember how devastated Sonny was, and I thought about Jason, and how devastated he would be. How he would blame himself. I don’t want him to do that."

His jaw clenched, and he could feel himself start to tense up, but fortunately she didn’t seem to notice.

"I don’t want him to hurt, but I know that’s what happens in this world. That man in the sunglasses, at the station – his name is Moreno. I think he’s the one that set the bomb. And I hate that I have to walk past him and act like it doesn’t bother me, because I can’t show weakness and neither can he. I hate that loving him means I have to take these risks if I want to be with him. It shouldn’t be so hard," she cried, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

"Robin-"

"I don’t want to be Lily."

He drew back, so he could see her face. Her jaw was set even though the tears were still falling.

"I don’t want to die. I’ve fought too damn long and too damn hard to be here and to have chances that other people never had. I want to live."

Her shoulders began to shake again and he pulled her close again, whispering words of comfort he wasn’t sure he believed but hoped desperately would be true. His fingers brushed her cheek and she looked up at him, eyes full of pain and confusion.

It shouldn’t have made him want to kiss her. But it did.

He shouldn’t have done it.

But he did, his lips brushing lightly across hers. It only lasted a moment - the desire for comfort warring with confusion and the knowledge that this was not the time or place.

She looked stunned as she pulled away from him. He stood and stepped back, trying to get his emotions under control. He had tried to convince himself he was over her. Chalk it up to a simple crush. But having her in his arms tugged at something deeper within him, something he had not bothered to guard against because he was not aware it was there.

He turned back to her, knowing what he needed to do and taking refuge in stilted formality. "Robin, I apologize. My behavior was completely inappropriate."

"It’s okay, Nikolas."

"No, it isn’t. You were upset, and I had no right…" He paused as she laid her hand gently on his arm.

"I’m sorry too."

He searched her face, wondering if the traces of regret he thought he saw were real or a product of a wistful imagination. He would apologize as many times as she wanted him to, but he hoped she wouldn’t ask him to say he regretted knowing what it was like to kiss her. "I don’t want to lose your friendship."

"Nikolas, I’ll always be your friend. But I can’t …"

"I know."

She sighed. "I think I should go now. But thank you for the walk, and the shoulder to cry on."

"Anytime. You can always call me, you know."

"I know."

But he knew she wouldn’t. Not after today. So he sat on the bench and watched as she headed away from Wyndemere, past the gates, down towards the launch to the mainland, back to life that would one day kill her, and his fists clenched helplessly at his side.

You can be a doctor Robin, if you live long enough.

You can have a lover, if you can find someone who is willing to risk intimacy with a body harboring a deadly disease.

You can be a mother if you’re willing to take the risk that you will pass on the disease to your child.

You can be a mother, but know that there is a good chance you will leave your child motherless and alone, to suffer the way you suffered.

Rome, Italy November 8^th, 1998

"The gentleman would like to buy you a drink."

It was the fourth time in the last hour someone had tried that trick. Robin didn’t even bother to look up. "I’m married."

"That was sudden."

Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Her mind insisted that there was no way that he could be here, but there was no denying the evidence of her eyes. "Nikolas?"

"Sorry I missed the wedding," he said, as the waiter smoothly melted away into the crowd, pocketing the thick wad of bills Nikolas had slipped him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Buying you a drink?"

"You just happened to be in Rome?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "I happened to be in Europe. And I was thinking, you’re in Rome, I have a plane…"

It had been over a month since she’d spoken with him. She had called him the day after she had found out Jason was arranging things so that he could leave the organization. He had seemed genuinely happy for her and wished her luck. She had thanked him, and told him she hoped she would see him around. Neither one of them brought up the moment in the garden, and so the unspoken agreement appeared to be that the incident would be forgotten. But she had noticed she saw him less frequently than before, although every time they encountered each other it was as if nothing had ever happened.

"If you’d rather be by yourself, I can leave," he offered.

"No, no," she replied quickly, feeling guilty that her silence had made him uncertain of his welcome. "I’d be glad to have the company. And maybe you’ll scare off some of the more, um, persistent guys in here."

"I do a very good possessive glare," he assured her, and she couldn’t help but smile.

They ordered drinks, and the conversation remained light. They compared notes on their favorite places in Italy. She told him where they were going next week and he offered a few suggestions about where to go and what to do.

"So how did you wind up here?" he asked.

"One of the women in the group had read about the social clubs in Rome and wanted to check them out. This place seemed easy enough to get into and we all agreed on the music more or less."

"So the other students are here too?"

She nodded. "They’re out on the dance floor somewhere."

"Why aren’t you dancing too?"

Robin grimaced. "I wasn’t sure I was in a dancing mood."

"You’re young, you’re in Rome, how can you not be in a dancing mood?" he teased.

"Well, why aren’t you dancing?" she returned. "You’re here too."

"Apart from the fact that I’m having fun talking to you?"

"Apart from that, of course."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I’m not very good."

Her brows rose as she scanned the polished figure in front of her. It wasn’t the expertly tailored clothes or the tasteful flash of gold around his wrist and on his hand that contributed most to the overall impression of smooth sophistication. It was the overwhelming sense of confidence and assurance he exuded as naturally as most men breathed and she had a hard time imagining him being bad at anything. "I don’t know if I believe that."

"It’s true. I was forced to take dancing lessons as a child, but that was ballroom dancing – waltz, minuet, that sort of thing. Once they start playing anything that was composed after the 19^th century, I’m hopeless."

She fought back a laugh. "I’ll bet you’re not that bad."

"I would prove it to you," he offered, a gleam in his eye. "But since you’re not in the mood to dance…"

"Is that a dare?"

"I think it might be."

It was blatant manipulation but she didn’t care. Her eyes flashed as she stood up and pushed her chair back. "You’re on."

He wasn’t that good. But he wasn’t bad. Soon she was laughing at the sight of him trying to use some of the steps he knew with the pulsing rhythms echoing on the dance floor. They ran into several of the other students from the tour and he was gracious about exchanging partners.

Robin found herself getting caught up in the music, forgetting about all the problems she was trying to escape, as she lost herself in the beat. Nikolas was forced to swoop in several times to check some of her more amorous partners. She had to admit, his possessive glare was incredibly effective, as were the sharply delivered Italian phrases. Knowing he was there gave her the freedom to let go and dance without worrying about who was next to her or keeping her friends in view.

The music slowed down towards the end of the evening and Nikolas claimed her again from one of her many newfound friends.

"The only way you’re going to get better is to practice," she teased, as he swept her away.

"I know. But this I can do," he said, sliding into the slower steps gracefully.

He was a good leader; she barely had to think about her own movements. "I want to thank you."

"For what?"

"For this," she said, gesturing around the club. "For goading me onto the dance floor. For showing up in Rome when I know there’s no earthly reason you had to be here."

He flushed and her smile broadened.

"And for just being my friend and reminding me that I can still have fun. I haven’t done that a lot lately."

He was silent for a moment. "I’m not sure if I should ask this, and if it will ruin the moment, you don’t have to answer, but how are you doing?"

She sighed as the weight of all her burdens returned.

He saw her reaction and swore under his breath. "I’m sorry, Robin. Forget I said anything."

"No, it’s okay. It’s just been hard lately. Which is why I’m in Rome, not Port Charles."

He nodded, but didn’t ask any further questions. They finished the dance, and she glanced at the clock. Her eyes widened.

"I never stay up this late."

"When in Rome…" Nikolas teased and she groaned.

Most of the other students had left, so Nikolas offered her a ride back to the hotel with his driver. He helped her into the car, and they rode in silence through the streets of Rome. She gazed out at the old buildings and cobblestone streets and it occurred to her that part of the reason she had been so melancholy earlier on the trip was that she had no one to share it with. But the person she wanted most to share it with was home in Port Charles, with another woman and her child. In the home that used to be hers.

She blinked back tears, but it was too late. He had noticed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It’s nothing really," she said, wiping her eyes. "I was thinking about how much fun I’d had tonight, and I started feeling sad that I would have to go home. But what was worse is feeling like I don’t have a home to go back to since I came here to get away from it."

"What made you feel you had to leave?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"Carly and I had a fight," she sighed. "And it wasn’t the first and I knew it wouldn’t be last. I was just sick of having to deal with her. I know she’s doing it to drive me away, and part of me didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, but I finally decided I didn’t care. I understand it’s hard for her to try and learn how to be a mother overnight, after missing months of her son’s life. And I understand that Jason wants to help make the adjustment easy on Michael, that he feels that’s his responsibility."

"What about his responsibility to you?"

The quiet simplicity of the question almost made her break down. But when she spoke again, only the quaver in her voice betrayed her pain. "Michael is an innocent child. He doesn’t understand what’s going on around him. I do."

"That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have a responsibility to you and your relationship. And part of that is to treat you with respect."

"Yes, but…"

"Why don’t you feel you deserve to be treated with respect in your own home?" he demanded. The words weren’t said with anger, but genuine puzzlement.

"I know I do, but it’s so hard," she said softly. "This means so much to him, and I don’t want to stand in the way."

"You mean a lot to him, as well. Or you should."

"I know he loves me. From the very first, he loved me and saw something in me when I had forgotten what it was like to love life. Or myself."

"Then he’ll find a way to fix it."

She forced her lips into a smile, wishing she could convince herself that he was right. That Jason could find a way to fix it. She desperately wanted to believe it could be fixed. But Carly was like an uncontrollable force of nature – and it was impossible for her to imagine that force being contained.

They arrived back at the hotel, and he got out of the car and waited as she fumbled in her purse for the key.

"Thank you for a lovely evening. And for the shoulder to cry on."

"Anytime."

There was an awkward pause and she wondered about the proper etiquette for a post-date-that-was-not-a-date ritual. He started down the steps, and then turned around for one last lingering look. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

The intensity in his eyes and his voice made her pulse beat a little faster, in a mixture of nerves and anticipation, and so she chose a light-hearted reply. "Someone who is going to be incredibly cranky when the six a.m. wakeup call comes?"

Nikolas was not dissuaded. "I see a beautiful, charming, brilliant woman, who has within her an unending reservoir of kindness and compassion. But she doesn’t seem to be aware of how truly unique and special she is. Or that there are plenty of men out there who would consider themselves incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to treat her with the love and respect she deserves."

Her breath caught in her throat, and her body froze. The words were a balm to her wounded soul, and she couldn’t wish them unsaid. But then the guilt came because she knew she shouldn’t want to hear him say them. Or feel them, as he so obviously did.

Her face must have mirrored her confusion, for Nikolas smiled sadly and stepped back.

"I’m not saying this to make you uncomfortable. And maybe I shouldn’t have said it. But I thought you should know."

He lifted her hand to his mouth, and his lips brushed lightly over her palm, then he released it, with a small, courtly bow and walked away, leaving her alone with her confusion.

General Hospital December 19th, 1998

"Are you alright?"

She hadn’t even heard him approach. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting in the waiting lounge after the nurse had kindly told her that visiting hours were over. But she had needed time to recover from seeing Felicia fall apart, from watching her uncle lie there in the hospital bed, and from the lingering effects of her confrontation yesterday with Marcus Taggert, where he had asked her what Jason would do. She hadn’t wanted to answer. He had pushed though, reminding her that she knew Jason better than anyone. What would he do? And even as she stonewalled him she knew what would do. He would have to retaliate, and the little bit of peace she had wrenched away for herself would be gone.

Which was why she couldn’t go home. She couldn’t bear to see Carly packing up their possessions for the move back into the penthouse. Carly, who had been hysterical last night and about to rush out in the middle of the night with no protection, now proclaimed herself excited that they were moving back into the penthouse. To a life surrounded by guards and danger.

So when Nikolas repeated the question, because it was him she didn’t bother to lie. "No. I’m not."

He seated himself in the chair next to her, his eyes dark with sympathy, but she noted he was careful not to crowd her or lean too close.

"If Stefan had been shot, I would be going out of my mind," he said finally. "But he should pull through, right?"

"His condition has stabilized, so as long as there are no major complications, then yes."

"Do they know who…"

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"I’m sorry."

"It’s not you." She sighed and brushed her hair back from her face. "We’re moving back to the penthouse."

She braced herself for a reaction, but his face was studiously blank.

"It’ll be safer, right?"

"Ultimately?" she asked, her voice bitter. "No. But safer in the near term, I guess."

She glanced over at him, and smiled faintly. "It’s okay, you can say it. Why are you going back there if you don’t want to?"

"I think I know the answer to that question."

She leaned forward and cradled her head in her hands. She did love him. She would always love him. But she had loved him before and left, and she was scared she was on that path again. "I applied to the Sorbonne for the spring semester. And a university in London."

She glanced up, searching for a reaction to her confession, but his face was a mask.

"When do you have to make a decision?"

"Soon." She leaned back in her chair, weariness seeping through her body. She had sent the applications from Italy, hoping that when she returned home Jason would have fixed things with Carly and her life would return to normal.

"Does Jason know?"

"Not about that specifically, but we’ve talked around it. When I came back from Italy he told me that he hadn’t been able to fix things with Carly. And that he’d understand if I couldn’t stay with him."

"He said what?"

The low undercurrent of fury in his voice startled her and she hastened to explain. "It wasn’t like that. He said he’d hate it if I had to leave, but that he’d understand if I couldn’t stay. If it was just too much."

If anything, her answer seemed to enflame him more. The mask dropped away and his eyes were blazing. "He’d understand??? What the hell kind of response is that?"

"We were here before. I couldn’t stay with him after he chose that life. He understood that it wasn’t that I didn’t love him."

"Are you talking about leaving because of Carly or because of his life?" Nickolas demanded. "Either way I think he should do better than understand. He should fight like hell for you. Try everything so that there’s a way for you to be together. Because you don’t let something rare and beautiful and precious walk out of your life without a fight."

A lump rose in her throat at his fierce defense and she fought back tears. "For him it’s not a fight. It’s a choice I have to make."

"It’s not like he’s choosing between being a dentist and working in a factory," he bit out harshly. "His choice means you’re both surrounded by guns and violence. Is he willing to be responsible for any of this? For choosing this life for both of you?"

"I knew what I was getting into when we got back together. I went into it with my eyes open. Besides, it’s not just the organization."

"That’s right; it’s also about something else you had a lot of choice about. I’m sure that Carly’s mental instability and the fact that he got her pregnant has everything to do with you and nothing to do with him."

"I knew she was in his life," Robin reminded him half-heartedly, but part of her sighed in relief as he gave voice to all her frustrations.

"You did not know you were going to be asked to live with someone who makes you hate being in your own home. You did not know that you were going to have to endure living with the woman he cheated on you with because they had a child together. Why the hell does she have to live with you? Has he ever heard of a concept called joint custody?"

He stopped abruptly, and as she watched him fight to bring his anger under control she struggled to remember the last time someone had been angry for her instead of at her. She thought it was Brenda, but she wasn’t sure.

"I’m sorry," Nikolas said finally. "I want to be understanding. But it doesn’t make sense to me at all. I know it’s your life, and I respect that. I just don’t understand."

An sudden impulse, born out of sheer exhaustion, prompted her question. "Nikolas, if I told you something, could you promise not to tell anyone? Ever."

He nodded gravely and the impulse grew stronger. They shared so many secrets already, what was one more? But she still struggled with it; months of loyalty weighed against a mountain of frustration.

"Michael isn’t Jason’s son. Carly lied to everyone and no one really ever asked Jason directly for the truth. And he chose to go along with it."

The words hung there in the air. She had expected to feel guilt, and it was there. What she hadn’t expected was the overwhelming sense of relief. Or the sadness as she gave voice to something she hadn’t wanted to accept. Jason had chosen to let Carly’s lie stand.

Nikolas’ eyes narrowed, but when he responded, his tone was measured. "Is she threatening to take Michael away from him?"

"She hints at it from time to time. I think most of the time she’s too scared of Michael’s father to say anything, but sometimes when she’s mad, she’ll forget about that."

"Would his father hurt her or the child?"

"Physically? I don’t think so. He threatened to take Michael away from her before he was born. That’s why she claimed Jason was the father. He’ll let her get away with more."

"Do you think Michael’s father would be a bad father?"

She tilted her head to the side, considering. "I don’t know, honestly. He might be a very good father. Or he might not be able to handle it. I just don’t know."

"But he doesn’t know Michael’s his."

Her shoulders slumped. "No."

She listened as he told her it wasn’t fair of them to ask her to keep silent if she didn’t want to. And she listened as he reminded her that growing up in a complicated web of lies about his mother left scars that had yet to heal, and that the truth was the best thing Jason and Carly could give Michael.

And she was forced to admit she knew exactly what he was talking about. Her parents had lied to her as well, for her own good of course. But she felt trapped. She knew Jason loved Michael as if he were his father. She didn’t want to see him get hurt.

He finally asked, "So what are you going to do?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words died on her lips. "I have no idea," she admitted after a few moments of silence. "And I really wish I did."

They sat together in silence, and she closed her eyes, her mind racing as it searched for answers. Her parents’ faces swam before her eyes. They had loved her, but the lie had cost her precious time with them. But she could still picture Jason, sitting in Michael’s room, reading travel books to him. The love and tenderness wasn’t easy to see, but it was there. She knew it was.

She sensed movement at her side and her eyes fluttered open, but Nikolas hadn’t left. Instead he shifted closer to her and laid his hand on top of hers, clasping it lightly. It comforted her, reminding her she was not alone. She closed her eyes again, still conscious of his touch, and this time the face she saw was Stone’s. She was sitting at his bedside, clasping his hand and he was about to leave her. And although she was filled with incredible sadness, she was at peace because she knew she was right where she was supposed to be. That was what was missing from her life now. And she didn’t know how to get it back.

Epilogue

Nurses Ball 2000

"She was his to lose. He did. And I do not intend to make the same mistake."