Later that evening, St. Luke's Hospital Psychiatric Ward, Cleveland
A narrow, graying man stood resolutely in front of the hospital ward doors, his folded arms creasing the elbows of his starched-white coat.
EJ towered over him. "We discussed this, Dr. Allen."
The doctor seemed remarkably nonplussed. "And I told you that Nicole Walker is a patient and, as such, she has the right to refuse to see anyone - and you, Mr. DiMera, are at the top of that list." He held out an arm to show EJ the direction of the elevators. "Now, if you don't mind..."
EJ smiled mirthlessly, then set his jaw. "I apologize if I failed to make myself clear the first time." He inched closer. "You will arrange to let me see Ms. Walker or you will find yourself out of a job. It's that simple."
"You can ease up on the pressure tactics. They won't work." Dr. Allen had some experience with influence-peddlers, but this one was more persistent than most. "As I told you on the phone and again in my office, your family's money is no good here."
"No, maybe not." EJ appeared to give the man's comment serious consideration. "But my father's friendship with the chairman of your board certainly is." He glanced at his watch. "One phone call." He snapped his fingers. "One phone call and the very security personnel you threatened me with earlier will readily escort you out."
"And why would they do that?" Dr. Allen raised his chin. "I have an exemplary reputation. If you think - "
"It's not only your reputation at stake here." He peered down at him. "I understand your son works at this hospital. He's a staff pharmacist, no? At least, that is until a certain bit of unsavory news comes to light."
Dr. Allen's eyes grew wide. He couldn't know. No one knew.
EJ reached for his cell phone. "So what's it to be, Doctor?" He waited. "Do I get to see Nicole Walker, or not?"
Dr. Allen stared at his shoes before responding through his teeth: "Fine." He pushed through the double doors and led EJ through the wide hallway, stopping just shy of the nurses' station. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the persistent stranger. "You are aware Ms. Walker doesn't want to see you."
EJ nodded firmly. As if he needed a reminder.
"If your visit harms her in any way - "
"Harms her? !"
His sharp tone caused all activity on the floor to cease for a moment.
The thought made EJ physically ill. The fact that he had come this close to losing her, that Nicole would choose to harm herself rather than come to him, rather than talk to him - the idea was unbearable. He lowered his voice. "No, Doctor. I assure you I have no intention of harming her."
Dr. Allen studied EJ's reaction carefully. The man had been all business, the picture of absolute control until this moment. Ah... The good doctor was beginning to understand. He didn't like him, but he was beginning to understand him. He held up his hands as a tacit signal to his staff to carry on. He then motioned to a nearby nurse and turned back to EJ. He could see that HIPAA rules meant nothing to a man like this. "Let me fill you in on her condition."
A flash of white went off behind her eyes, and Nicole could feel the pain of it as someone switched on the light in her room. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and pulled the scratchy, woolen blanket up over her head. Vaguely, she heard someone shuffle to the other bunk near the window and plunk down on it, drawing the curtain between them and dumping a heavy satchel on the floor. Nicole winced at the intrusive light and the sounds emanating from the open door and bustling hallway. She liked the dark tomb she had created for herself and longed to stay there, shut away from the outside world. Though, now that she was awake, her quiet cocoon also served to keep her locked up in her head with the one recurring nightmare she couldn't seem to shake - and the booming voice that broke through her consciousness, taunting her, suffocating her, drowning her. Stefano DiMera liked his mind games.
"I trust you received my little memento, Nicole…"
Her entire body ached. She groaned a little and shifted to lie on her side, folding her arms about her chest and tucking her legs in, trying to grow smaller – trying to disappear. But the pounding in her head grew more insistent. She kicked off the covers and forced herself to sit up. The charcoal had done its job; the effects of the pills should have worn off. Maybe they would let her have something now. She pushed herself to stand and nearly fell back on the bed. Her legs felt rubbery and stiff. She trudged in stocking feet towards the open door. Note to self: benzos and vodka, or "pulling a Marilyn Monroe," as the insipid hospital intake therapist tastefully termed it, doesn't help you sleep. She steadied herself against the door with one hand. Instead, you wake up here with last night's vomit on your shirt, a headache you can feel all over, and – she glanced at her lump of a roommate. And A-list celebrity company.
"Nurse." She caught hold of a woman in colorful cartoon-character scrubs. "I still have this awful headache. Can I please take something for it now?"
"Oh, good," the woman replied curtly. "You're up." She linked arms with her. "I was just coming to get you."
"Please…" Nicole's head lolloped forward as she struggled to walk the hall. "Just give me something and let me go back to bed."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Walker. You'll have to follow me. Normally, we wouldn't allow this, but Dr. Allen insisted."
"I can see the psychiatrist tomorrow. Just let me – "
The nurse locked eyes briefly with her superior as they passed the glassed-in nurse's station. She pulled Nicole to a windowed-room full of folded chairs and a wall of whiteboards and guided her to a worn, cushioned red chair at the end of an oblong school-lunch table. She sat her down. "I'll bring you something for that headache," she conceded.
"Thank you." Nicole breathed, leaning forward on the table and dropping her head down. She heard the muted bump of the hinge on the door as it closed, then reopened. "Do I have to do this now?" she muttered from the hollow of her arms. She expected the overpracticed, dulcet tones of her angular psychiatrist. Instead, she heard a softly familiar British accent.
"Hello, Trouble."
She raised her eyes to his, finding them regarding her quietly, sincerely, kindly. He stood at the far end of the table, his coat slung over one arm, his hands in his pockets. He looked tired. She started to cry.
EJ dropped his coat on the table. "Nicole..."
She stood and turned her back on him, wiping fiercely at her tears. "You're not supposed to be here." She hugged her arms in close to her chest and stared out the window at the street lamps in the parking lot.
He stopped short of touching her; her hunched form rebuffing him without words. He shoved his hands back in his pockets.
She inhaled deeply. "I told them I don't want you here." She turned her head slightly, glancing at the door. "So, can you please -?"
"I had to come. I had to see for myself...to make sure..." His voice drifted off. He shifted his stance and followed her gaze out the window. "Are you okay?"
God, do I look okay? ! She wanted to shout it at him, but her voice had lost its usual strength. Her legs felt weak and her head hurt. "No, I'm not okay," she whispered. She rested her forehead against the coolness of the glass window and closed her eyes. Shortly afterward, she felt his hands light on her shoulders. She started a bit but didn't move away. "I have this terrible headache, and the nurse went to get me something and..."
He pulled her towards him and kissed the top of her head. "Here." He guided her back to the cushioned red chair. It was the only color in the stark, antiseptic room. "You wait here. I'll get her." The touch of his hand on hers was the only warmth she could feel. He headed for the door.
He was back in a few minutes with the nurse dutifully in tow. She handed Nicole a paper cup of water and two Tylenol. Better than nothing, Nicole figured. She downed them quickly and leaned her head on her hand once more as EJ ushered the nurse out of the room uttering a stern warning to her under his breath. Something about making damn sure she made herself available if needed - Nicole couldn't quite make it out. The nurse put up a protest but was silenced by a solid look from EJ and the closing of the door.
He turned to Nicole. He suddenly felt nervous in the still room. "Are they treating you well?"
She shrugged. "I guess so."
"Because, I, uh..." He fidgeted with his hands on and off. "I researched a few places on the plane on the way here. There are two..." He searched for the term. "Treatment centers, clinics, that I think seem rather good. One is in Chicago. The other is a little closer to Salem... closer to home." He looked at her. "If you're uncomfortable here, if you'd like to go somewhere more private, I can arrange - You could leave tonight."
"EJ..."
"I'd take you there myself. Anywhere you want to go - "
"Stop."
"They have the best medical care, private rooms, secluded gardens..."
"Just stop." She closed her eyes.
He gripped the back of a chair at the end of the table, training his eyes on his hands. "Well then, you can think it over. Let me know what you decide, hmm?"
She didn't want to argue. "I will."
He nodded, and all was quiet for a time.
Then the chair scraped the floor loudly and slid into the table's edge. EJ had pushed away from it. "I'm not allowed to talk about it, am I?"
She sighed audibly. "EJ, I'm tired..."
"I know," he said softly. "I know you're tired." He began to pace. "And you don't want me here. I know that, too." He ran a hand over the back of his neck. "And God knows I don't want to upset you, but Nicole -" He ground to a halt. "You nearly died! I mean, what am I supposed to do with that?"
"Maybe you're not supposed to do anything," she replied quietly.
"But I can't just stand by and let you - " He exhaled sharply. He wasn't wording this right. "I could understand when you left - your needing to go on a tear or a bender or whatever you call it to try and forget about our..." He couldn't say it. "To get over what happened."
You don't just "get over" something like this, EJ.
"And when you wouldn't take my calls, when you wouldn't even talk to me, I tried to be understanding. I figured you needed time." He looked at her. "And I was willing to wait. I waited..."
And had me followed.
"...for you. I thought that sooner or later you'd come back, that maybe one day we could finally talk about all this."
She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. She could feel him getting closer, physically and emotionally. She both needed and staunchly rejected the feeling.
He knelt before her. "Did you think I didn't know how much you were hurting, Nicole? Hell, I was - I felt it, too. But -"
"But you didn't try to off yourself. Is that what you're saying?" She glared at him.
"That's not..." He bit his tongue. Damn, she's impossible. He tried again. "Nicole..."
"Just go." She put up her hands to push him away. "I can't talk about this now."
He stood abruptly to his feet. "Then when? When can you talk about it? I'm tired of waiting, of trying to understand." He dropped his arms to his sides in exasperation. "And do you know what? I can't! I can't understand a damn thing because you won't let me!" He paced the floor again, liked a caged animal. "I know I should be sensitive to what you're going through. And I am. I am, believe me. But all I can think about is how I almost didn't get the chance -"
"EJ..." She put her head in her hands.
"I've wanted to tell you for a long time that -"
"I didn't mean to -"
"I love you."
What? She blinked up at him. "What did you say?" The ground seemed to shift beneath her.
He turned to her. "I love you." Determined, he reached inside his suitcoat pocket and pulled out a tiny black-velvet box. "And I want you to have this." He placed it on the table beside her.
She looked at the jewelry box and back at him.
"Go on," he urged her quietly. "Open it."
She sniffled and took the box in hand. She opened it slowly to reveal a sparkling, square-cut pink diamond. Her eyes misted over. "Oh, EJ." She stared at it, convincing herself it was real. She exhaled slowly. "I..." She lifted her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know what to do with this."
"Then let me show you." He knelt down beside her once more, lifted the ring from its cushion and placed it on her finger. "There." He raised her hand to his lips.
"It's beautiful."
He joined her in admiring it. "I had planned to give it to you last Fall." He hesitated, checking her expression. "At the lodge."
She nodded, focusing on the ring, not wanting to meet his eyes.
"Nicole, I am so, so sorry."
She hated that the tears came so quickly now; especially since she could do nothing to stop them. They streamed down her face.
He folded her into a hug. "I should have been there."
She closed her eyes and sank into his arms, allowing herself the feeling for a little while.
"I should have been the one to -" He pushed his jealousy of Brady aside temporarily. "You needed me - you both did - and I never should have let my father talk me into going on that bloody stupid business trip."
She brushed at her tears and pulled back from him. Your father knew exactly what he was doing. The thought helped to clear her head.
"I am so sorry I let you down." He searched her eyes. "I should've made you my first priority and I didn't. It won't happen again."
"EJ, I..." She ran a hand through her hair, then held out her hand to look at the ring again. "I, um, I have to think about this."
He drew a cautionary breath. "Of course. I understand."
"I just..."
"I don't want to rush you, and I certainly don't want to pressure you."
"It's just that...I need some sleep." She attempted a wan smile. "I am a hot mess."
He chuckled. "No, you are not." He kissed her sweetly. "You're beautiful." He stood, brushing at the creases in his pants. "You're beautiful, and I love you. Take all the time you need." He gave her a reassuring look. "I'll fetch the nurse, shall I?" He headed for the door. "Oh..." He whipped round as he remembered. "How's your headache?"
"Better."
"Good." He smiled. "I'll be back in a bit."
"Okay." She watched him leave, still holding the diamond in front of her eyes, thinking.
"I trust you received my little memento, Nicole…"
In the quiet of EJ's absence, Stefano's voice drifted back in. Nicole remembered the day he had called her. She had been out most of the night and was just settling in at her mother's apartment when there was a brief knock at the door. She opened it to find no one there and an envelope resting against the wall. There was no mistaking its contents: it was a sonogram. For a moment, she thought it was a copy of hers. Then she saw the name in the upper right-hand corner - "Colleen." There was a line drawn through it with the name "Samantha Brady" written in large letters underneath it. Then her cell phone rang.
"Yeah, I got it," she answered him caustically. "And you know where you can stick it."
"I just thought you should know. It seems that, however clumsily she has tried to disguise it, Samantha Brady is due to provide me with yet another DiMera heir. She is good for something, after all," he mused to himself.
Trying to control the emotions swirling through her inebriated mind, Nicole spat out: "So, what's your point, old man?"
"Once Elvis learns of this little development, you will no longer occupy a place in his heart." He leaned into his next line. "The point, my dear, is that you are irrelevant."
Returning to the present, Nicole twisted the ring round her finger. It was a perfect fit. We'll just see about that, Stefano. We'll see.
