Her hand slammed down on the bar top as she tried to steady her breathing. Fury, betrayal, and concern all fought for control as she tried to force herself to stay put. There was a part of her that wanted to run back up those stairs. She wanted to go back to that door, jerk it open, and force him to look her in the eye and explain himself, but what good would that do? He would just lie to her again just like he'd done over and over again, just like he'd done mere hours ago when he'd looked her in the eyes and promised her that the gambling was over. She didn't believe him then – her trust having already been shaken, but after a sleepless night in a bed that seemed impossibly empty, she realized there were still things that needed to be said and she'd come here tonight to say them.

In all honestly, there was something in her that had hoped she'd find him here as miserable as she was. She was hoping he had spent the entire night thinking about the choices he'd made and how horribly he'd screwed everything up. She was hoping he had stared up at the ceiling and thought of everything he should have said instead of what he did. She was hoping he had thought about how much he loved her, how much he needed her, and how much he didn't want to let this cost them the relationship they'd fought so hard for. Instead, when she'd reached his door, she'd found his night had been spent far differently than hers. While she had tossed and turned and regretted her angry words, while she had worried and cried and hoped there was still something to salvage, he had been here – not thinking about her, not worrying about his relationship, but gambling.

"What can I get you?" The bartender's voice was a reprieve from her thoughts and she turned towards the sound.

"It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "Something strong." She should go home and nurse a bottle of wine, cry herself to sleep, or something equally pointless, but she couldn't. She couldn't just leave knowing he was just up those stairs ruining his life and throwing their relationship away for a momentary thrill. At some point he'd have to come down those stairs and when he did, the liquid in this glass would give her the strength she needed to face him, the strength she didn't feel she had right now.

"Another," she hissed as the liquor still stung at her throat.

"I think maybe you've had enough."

"Believe me, I haven't had nearly enough." She shook her head as she gestured to the glass bottle behind the bar. "Another," she repeated.

"I really don't …"

"It's alright. I'll keep an eye on her."

The bartender nodded as poured a small amount of liquid into the glass again and nodded towards Nick.

"It's probably not the best idea to drink alone," Nick said, taking the seat beside her and carefully sliding the glass to sit in front of him. "You mind sharing?"

"You that broke?" She could feel the effect of the alcohol already as her attempt to turn towards him sent the entire room spinning.

"I just think maybe I could use this one more than you." He looked at her intently for a moment. "Though you do look like you've had a hell of a night."

She scoffed. "You could say that, but you're not looking particularly chipper yourself. What happened?" She shifted on the stool, her body tilting precariously backwards.

"Easy there." His hand pressed gently on the small of her back. "Why don't we skip the drink and you let me drive you home?"

"Nope. I can't leave yet. He's still up there and I'm not leaving until I have a chance to tell him exactly what I think of him for what he's …" Her thought seemed to drift away as she looked back towards the stairs.

"Billy?" He assumed he'd guessed correctly as he watched the flash in her eyes. "Let me guess, Mr. Wonderful messed up again?" The cocky grin on his face faded quickly as his words settled in the air. The fiery, angry spark that had been in her eyes when the conversation started had now been replaced with a sort of sadness and it was never his intention to play any part in that. His hand slid across the bar slowly to rest on hers. "Hey," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that. I know you care about the guy and if you're hurting, I'm sorry."

Phyllis didn't answer. Instead she simply turned back towards the stairs, her eyes drifting up towards the landing longingly. He was so close and yet he felt so very far from her.

"Come on," Nick said again, touching her shoulder. "Let me take you home. You don't need to talk to him like this. You're upset and you've had to much to drink and you'll say things that you don't mean and nothing good will come of that. Just let me take you home and you can sleep it off and then in the morning you and Billy can figure all this out."

As much as she detested advice, he was right. It was speaking in anger that had brought them to this place. Repeating it would simply make it worse. "Okay," she said reluctantly. "But on one condition." She paused as she looked at him again.

"What's that?"

"You tell me what you're doing at the bar at this time of night. If my life is falling apart, I might as well find some comfort in knowing someone else's is too." She forced a slight smile as she looked at him. Mutual misery was something they knew all too well.

"Deal," he smiled, reaching out to her and letting her lean against him as she stood unsteadily from the stool. "We'll swap war stories once we get you home safe. Maybe take our minds of things, break out some video games."

"Just like the old days," she smiled. Her body felt relaxed as she leaned against him. At least tonight, she wouldn't have to sit with her thoughts alone.

"Come on now." Nick pressed the pause button on the remote and let it fall by his side. "It's no fun to kill you when it doesn't even feel like you're trying."

"Sorry. I don't mean to be a killjoy. I guess I'm just not really in a video game kind of place tonight." She could feel her eyes burning, tears being a definite possibility again. She straightened, taking in a long, deep breath. "So, you promised you'd tell me your sob story and you haven't, so let's hear it. Why are you here with me instead of home with your fiancé?" She rolled her eyes as she said the words. Even drunk she couldn't get past what disaster she thought that relationship was.

"I guess I might as well tell you. You'll find out soon enough anyway. I've been kind of busy the last few weeks."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "Either I'm much drunker than I thought or you're being deliberately vague."

"I'm just trying to ease into it. The reaction hasn't exactly been positive thus far."

"Well, you haven't told me yet." She smiled weakly as she looked at him. "Let's face it, I've got the least room to be judgmental here."

He couldn't help laughing at the honesty in her statement. "True. Alright, here goes. I pretended to be JT. It was me … all of it … the whole time."

"I told you to get beers," she groaned as she leaned back against the couch.

"I did." He held up the beer before taking a drink and handing her a bottle of water. "Just not one for you. You've got a major jumpstart on me tonight."

She wanted to argue, but the questions were more pressing. "So, let me get this straight … you pretended to be JT. You gaslighted your own father? You hacked his computers systems and medical records? And now you've created your own company? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yeah, that's the short, sweet version."

"I don't even … I mean, look. I get it, after what he did with the whole Christian thing, I totally get that you want to get back at him, but this is a lot even when you consider revenge? Your family is going to …"

He nodded. "Oh they already have. I'm a disgrace. They don't know me anymore. I should be ashamed of myself. But I'm not and you know what? I don't think I should be. I think my father should be ashamed. When I think of everything he's done in his life that he's never paid for …" It made him sick to think about it. There were so many casualties, so much pain … "And we all just turned our backs, turned a blind eye to it, buried our hands in the sand for years …. And for what? Because we hoped one day he'd decide that his family was more important, because we thought at the end of the day that he had some limits, that there were some things that were too sacred to him to sacrifice?"

She could barely believe the words she heard coming out of his mouth. This wasn't the Nick Newman that had so many times come to the aide of his father. This wasn't the Nick Newman that had, at times, dreamed of taking the reins at Newman Enterprises. This wasn't the Nick Newman that had defended Victor time and time again when she and so many others had claimed he was the devil himself.

"I really believed there were limits to what he would do. I honestly thought there were some lines he wouldn't cross. I thought at the end of the day everything he did he did to protect his family, but after what he did to me with Christian … That man doesn't do anything to protect anyone except himself. He's a self-serving, egotistical, cold-hearted, …" He stopped, realizing she hadn't spoken since he'd started. "You're not going to disagree with me, are you?"

Phyllis let the air leave her lungs. "No. I'm not. I've believed for a long time that Victor Newman had no limits. I've always said that he would do whatever it took to serve his own best interests and anyone that does anything to try and take him down has all my support … always."

It felt so good to hear the words, even if they weren't from someone he'd necessarily expected. "My father has done so many horrible things to so many people."

She looked away and he felt his stomach lurch a bit.

"I can't even begin to imagine how you must feel when you see him out there walking around, living his life like he's never had a problem in the world … After what he did to you and Jack. I'm sorry that you didn't get the justice you deserved with that. I'm sorry we caved and came back to support him like we always do. I'm sorry that I'm his son, that I have his name, that everyone knows me by …"

"Nick." Her hand raised to touch his face. "You are not your father. Just because you have his name doesn't mean you have to live by what it has represented. You create your own legacy. You don't have to live in your father's shadow."

"I just don't get it, Phyllis. My entire family thinks I'm this horrible disgrace. They treat me like I've betrayed the family, as if our father hasn't betrayed us over and over again. It's like they've forgotten everything he's done, to me, to Christian, to Adam, to Sage, to you, to Jack …"

"I don't want to talk about that." She'd tried to put it behind her, but even the mention of it brought thoughts and feelings back that she never wanted to entertain again.

"I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it. We don't have to talk about anything."

Something changed, in the air, in the room, in the energy and suddenly they weren't two people who were sharing sob stories. They weren't exes with history and drama. They were simply two people who understood each other, who understood pain, who understood revenge, and who, most of all, understood how it felt to be misunderstood. She'd had this before with Billy, but he wasn't here now. He didn't want to understand her anymore. He wanted to sit at a table and bet it all for some plastic chips.

She felt the warmth of Nick's body as he moved closer to her. She could have moved away. They could have stopped with a kiss. They could have stood and acknowledged the mistake and said their goodbyes, but they didn't and they wouldn't until nearly noon the next morning.