Chapter Sixteen:
Anxiety

Bobbie hesitated outside the door to Carly's apartment. She'd barely slept that night, tossing and turning as Felicia's words bounced off all possible corners of her brain. She had fought the urge to knock on the door all morning, desperately wanting to be clear on how she was going to handle this first. Her gut reaction was to go to Jason first… to confront him about his plans and why he hadn't warned her. But Felicia had made it very clear that she was breaking confidence by even telling Bobbie about the child in the first place, and that complicated the issue considerably.

What had kept her up, more than anything, was not how to tell Carly. That was a question too daunting to face just yet. It was the guesswork at just how hard this might hit. She felt a need, a pull to just see her daughter, see how she was. Then maybe she could predict a reaction that wouldn't scare her to death. The last thing Carly needed right now was another reason to spiral. She'd been doing well. Gail had said she was making progress… Talk of putting her on anti- depressants was still present, but it no longer felt like the end of the world when Carly continued to ignore the suggestion. Bobbie frowned. It was as if she could finally have a little hope, if she looked at this the right way. But hope felt dangerous. She had to make sure she saw everything clearly. That no sign went unnoticed.

Just once, Bobbie thought, leaning her head against her daughter's door, she wanted to be able to predict Carly's behavior. To know what was going to set her off, and what she was going to be able to handle. Carly's reaction to losing custody of Michael had become the catastrophe against which every other disaster was measured. In all that time, nothing had ever threatened to push Carly over the edge with that kind of ferocity. But Bobbie couldn't shake the idea that this had to be it. If Carly was ever going to go off the deep end again, it was over this issue… the idea of Jason and Robin repeating the family life she'd had with him for that brief period of time. Bobbie would have felt better if Carly had honestly reacted to the wedding. It would have given her some hope that she was dealing with what had happened. At the very least, she should have SOME reaction. But nothing had happened. There were no signs. And that scared Bobbie more than anything she could think of.

Bobbie let out a long suffering sigh and straightened up. Enough of this. She was going to have a quiet lunch with her daughter and then drive her over to the Quartermaines. Saturday ritual. In fact, she couldn't help but be a little concerned that Carly hadn't appeared yet. After all, she'd said yesterday that she was going to bed early, and refusing to get up usually meant Carly's moods were marching downward.

Bobbie shook her head out to ground herself before bringing up her hand to rap sharply on the wood of the apartment door.

No answer.

She rolled her eyes, and knocked again. “Carly.”

Again nothing.

“Carly,” Bobbie prodded, with a very practiced lilt to her voice. “Carly, honey. Come on. Open the door.”

Bobbie drummed her nails along the doorjamb a few times, before knocking again, loudly. “Carly!” the anger in her voice masked the concern that was inevitably creeping in.

Still no answer.

Bobbie felt her heart begin to pound, while she lectured herself against the fear. Don't go nuts, Barbara Jean. What's the worst that could have happened?

Bobbie felt her knees weaken as she turned and started for the kitchen. What was the worst that could have happened? This was Carly. Anything was possible. She made an immediate dive, once in the room, for a junk drawer, and dug through it for the master key ring to the brownstone. She closed her hand around it, without thinking, and she started back to Carly's room, only stopping when she stood at the door and realized what she was about to do.

Convincing Carly to come live in the Brownstone had not been an easy task. It had mostly been the product of having nowhere else to go. And it had been hard to deny, even for Carly, that no good was going to come of her living entirely on her own. Silence provided too much room to think, and that was the last thing Carly wanted to do. At the same time, she'd bristled at the idea of having her mother around every corner. So lines had been drawn. Bobbie had promised that she would respect her privacy. That she wouldn't snoop. That she wouldn't press. And she sure as hell wouldn't use her key on the apartment.

Bobbie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, gripping the key so tightly in her hand it dug into the flesh of her palm. Think, she commanded herself. Are you sure she's even in there?

Yes, Bobbie answered herself. There is no earthly way she could have left without passing by the living room where Bobbie had spend the morning, curled up under an Afghan and staring hard at the window. So what does that mean?

Bobbie felt herself begin to shake as a steady stream of increasingly alarming images began to flicker across her closed eyelids. “Damnit, Carly” she breathed, opening her eyes and painfully releasing the key from her grip. She stared down at it, laying in her hand, and swallowed hard.

She had to know. It was that simple. If she stood in this hallway one more second she was going to have a complete attack. Even if Carly had to be in there, even if she was just hiding out from her current reality…

Bobbie unlocked the door, twisted the knob and pushed it open, all in one motion.

“Carly!” she called out her daughter's name with authority as she strode into the apartment, casting only the most cursory of glances over the living room as she headed down the narrow hallway to the bedroom. “Carly,” her voice raised an octave, as she twisted the handle to the bedroom door. “Carly, for God's sake, ANSWER ME!”

Bobbie stopped dead in the doorway.

The room was empty. The closet was open, as was the window. The curtains billowed in a soft breeze, and the sound of birds singing wafted in from the back garden, and the sun streaked in, casting light over hard wood floor. Most of Carly's clothes were strewn across the bed. The still-made bed. There were hangers on the floor, and it looked like a pair of shoes at been tossed at the wall in frustration. Bobbie shook her head, recognizing the scene from instances of her own life. Bobbie felt her head begin to spin. She hadn't see Carly go out because Carly hadn't come home. That much was obvious.

The question was, where was she now?

Carly lay against Nikolas’ chest, her chin rested on the back of her hands, as she gazed up at him. She'd waken up about ten minutes earlier, finding herself still where she'd been when she'd drifted off to sleep a few hours ago… in Nikolas’ arms, stretched out on a couch that spanned one side of the cabin. This was the strangest feeling… Waking up to this. Private jet, wedding ring, sleeping husband…

Husband. She suppressed an urge to laugh at the word. It was hard not to feel a little ridiculous about it. At some point, she supposed, it would start to sink in. He was still sleeping, his arms wrapped around her protectively. As tight as his grip on her was, he looked relaxed and peaceful. She smiled a little. She liked watching him sleep, she thought. It was nice to do, this time, without thinking about him leaving, or what his reaction might be when he opened his eyes. He wanted her there. He'd made that abundantly clear. When he woke up to find her in his arms, he'd smile. That thought alone sent Carly's heart spinning in happy little circles in her chest. She felt a grin spread across her face, and shook her head in amusement.

This felt wonderful.

She had no idea how long they had been lying here. As soon as they'd been safely in the air, Nikolas had wordlessly undone her seat belt, led her over here, and laid down with her, gently rubbing circles on her back as she drifted off to sleep. Remembering that now, having actually rested, was causing a tingling sensation in Carly's stomach. He could be so… Assured. In control. She couldn't believe how overwhelming she found it, to watch him make a decision and execute it like that. She didn't want to admit to how attractive she found it. But then… Men and power. She had a bit of a history there.

Carly made a face, and lowered her head, burying it against Nikolas’ chest. And there was that image again. Reality seemed to be descending with alarming speed. Every thought kept ending up in the same place. A week ago she'd watched the man she loved marry somebody else. Now here she was, married to an entirely different somebody, and more confused than she'd ever been in her life. And that was saying something. She really didn't know what was coming back. They seemed to have an unspoken pact not to speak about it. Not to push the issues that were going to be staring them right in the face in a short enough amount of time. And there were no words for how little she wanted to think about Jason.

From the moment she'd left his wedding, thoughts of Jason had made her feel ill. And… She had to admit, more than a little panicky. The only time it hadn't was when she felt pushed to use him as a shield to put up between her and Nikolas. She closed her eyes as she felt a hard knot start to replace the unsettling vibrations in her stomach, and let herself start to worry.

Jason was supposed to come back soon. By Monday he'd be back in town. And she had no idea where he thought she was fitting into his life now. Her contact with him had been a little peripheral during the wedding plans, but she had insisted to him that she could be his friend, and up until last night, she'd planned to be.

Now she never wanted to lay eyes on him again. The very idea made her feel on edge, shaky. She wanted to pretend he didn't exist. That whole life, everything that had happened, felt unreal to her now. And she knew it could keep it there, mixed up in the corners of her brain, with fantasy and best laid plans that had never come to fruition, as long as she didn't have to see him. Didn't have to talk to him, or stand close to him, or any of the other things that had messed her up in the past.

And, she realized in a sudden cold wave, she did not want to mess this up.

Carly pushed herself up, gripping the back of the couch with one hand, and gazed down at him. He slept so still. His only movements were the rise and fall of his chest and the flutter of his eyelashes.

God, he was so beautiful.

How on earth was it she'd never noticed him before that night? She'd known about him. There was no way not to. But it had never even occurred to her to talk to him until she'd found herself in the middle of a conversation. It wasn't that hard to picture him as having been royalty. Not like the princes of British tabloids, or even the Disney variety. More like the ones from really old fairy tales. The ones who fought battles, went on quests, slew dragons…

Hmm, she thought, smiling a little to herself. Romanticize much? She felt her body sway a little as she stared at him. God… Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she could fall deeper and harder for this man than anyone. Maybe he could end up making Jason look like a bad flu it just took her an inordinately long time to get over.

Except…

She and Jason had been through hell and back. More than once. She had already hated him more than any man, and in turn, loved him more. There had been times when she wanted to strangle him. She'd been so angry at him that she had once smashed half of the decorative sculptures in the penthouse. She had never felt anything like the fury she directed at him when he dumped her for Robin, and she'd very nearly scratched his eyes out when she lost Michael. Hell, that time, she'd nearly landed herself back in Ferncliff, begin forced to spend two days in GH under heavy sedation and psychiatric watch.

None of it mattered, not in the end. The things Jason did… They weren't REALLY Jason. They weren't really his choices. He was just too easy for Robin to push him around. It didn't change the facts. And the facts were, no matter what she did, whatever she tried, she could never shake a certain knowledge, something she just KNEW. That she'd never really be happy with anyone else the way she had with Jason. That she'd never really be happy, period. Because Jason was the one. Even if she didn't want him to be.

Carly felt tears come to her eyes at the thought. No. No, no, no, she was not going to do this. It didn't matter. She wanted to be HERE. She wanted to be with someone she felt safe with, someone who was insisting he was going to fall in love with her. She wanted to be able to look at Jason, the next time he entered a room she happened to be in, and think “I just don't care.”

She shook her head hard, trying to knock Jason out of it. What are you doing, Caroline? You're going to ruin this, aren't you? You're going to do something completely idiotic and Nikolas will look at you and realize that all that stuff DOES matter. That he made a rash and crazy choice and now he was stuck with a borderline raving lunatic for a wife. And he'd fall out of love with her just as quickly as he'd fallen in.

She felt the air rush out of her lungs at the idea.

Whoa, wait, she thought to herself. Stop it. When did this become such a big deal?

Riiiiight. Probably about the time he asked you to marry him.

Carly felt her heart began to pound again. Proposal. Wedding. Marriage. This must be the sinking in part. What the hell had she done now? What kind of fall had she set herself up for? She squeezed her eyes shut, running her hand through her hair. Breathe. Don't panic. Doesn't every stupid thing you do start with panicking?

Carly let herself slide down onto Nikolas against, wrapping her arms around him, possessively. Jason didn't matter, she told herself harshly. He'd gotten married. Now she had too. She was going to have an actual life now, in spite of everything. There were so many other things to think about right now. Like her mother. And his father. And Michael.

Carly felt herself calm at the thought of her son. Michael. The best reason for doing this. The part that made it seem a little bit sane. She wondered idly what Michael would think of Nikolas. He'd have to like him. Michael was a calm child. Almost unflappable. He'd been surrounded by insanity his whole life. It took a lot to shake him. She smiled a little to herself. She was going to feel so much better when she could see them together. When she could see them interact and feel like everything was going to come together for them. Then maybe she could stop freaking out. After all, this wasn't going to be like Jason. Or AJ… Or Tony… Nikolas was different. She wasn't going to have to fight for him the same way. She wasn't going to have to beg him to pay the least bit of attention to her. And he wasn't planning on keeping her a secret. He had done all of this, the grandest of gestures, just so that he didn't have to do that. People were going to know about them. She felt that same goofy happiness begin to take hold again. There was no room for panic here. Not if Nikolas was going to be all the things he'd promised to be. Then everything would be fine.

“Miss Roberts?”

Carly stretched languidly and shifted on the couch to face the pilot standing just in front of the curtain at the end of the cabin.

“Hmmmm?”

“We'll be landing within the half hour. You may want to take you seat and…” he cleared his throat. “Wake Mr. Cassadine.”

Carly pushed herself up, using the back of the couch for support, and looked down at Nikolas, smiling down at him. “Leave him to me, I'll take care of him.” She sat up, and ran a hand through her hair. “What time is it?”

“Just after twelve, ma'am.”

Carly smiled, and turned back to Nikolas, snuggling closer to the warmth of his body.

“Wonderful. Thank you.”

Bobbie stared at the phone on the counter. She had to talk to someone. If she didn't, her head was going to spontaneously combust. It was heading towards one o'clock and Carly was due at the Quartermaines at two. She had to show up. There was no room for error here. How was Bobbie going to explain this? How could she fix it? How could she make this all ok when Carly wasn't even HERE to help her?

In the last have hour Bobbie had come up with several explanations for Carly's absence. They ranged from the simple to the extreme, some with subplots and musical scores. None of them were good. Carly could be so incredibly stubborn. She didn't pay attention to even the most basic common sense advice if it got in the way of a good self-destructive idea she had. So far, it was pure luck that none of it had gotten her killed. Wherever she was, Bobbie was becoming steadily more certain, disaster had befallen her. In the last year, the one thing… the ONLY thing… that kept Carly going was Michael. She flaked out on almost every other front, and though Bobbie had to push her sometimes, she never ever missed a visit with her son.

That one thought was what kept pushing Bobbie to the edge of panic. God. This was bad. This made everything else look like a cakewalk. What if Carly had overheard what she and Felicia had talked about last night? What if it had led her to do something rash? She'd done crazy things with little provocation in the past. If she'd heard this with no buffer, no preparation, then pretty much anything could have happened.

Bobbie's hand reached out at lightening speed and snatched up the receiver, her fingers flying over the numbers by memory. She needed to calm down. She needed to get a grip so that she could deal with this rationally. She needed help.

“Spencer.”

“Luke?” Bobbie realized she had managed to stuff as much hysteria into one syllable as humanly possible.

Luke, who had been leaning back from his desk at a precarious angle, snapped to attention, the chair emitting a sharp squeak as it was sent hurtling forward.

“Barbara? What is it?”

Bobbie felt her heart begin to still at the sound of concern in her brother's voice. Ok. She could do this. Despite all appearances, she was not alone.

“Luke, its Carly.”

Though he didn't sigh, she could feel him deflate over the phone lines.

“Carly.”

“She's missing,” the words spilled out of Bobbie, faster than she had time to think about them. “She's not in her room, I don't think she ever came home last night, and she's supposed to be at the Quartermaine's in an hour!”

“Barbara,” Luke's voice was both authoritative and soothing at the same times. A trick only he could pull off, Bobbie was certain. “Slow down.”

Bobbie put a hand to her forehead and sunk down onto the stool by her kitchen counter. “Luke, I have no idea what to do. If she doesn't show up to see Michael…”

“We'll deal with it,” Luke stuffed out his cigar in an ashtray. “Now when was the last time you saw her?”

“Yesterday, at the hospital,” Bobbie sighed. “She said she was going home to bed. But she couldn't have. At least, I don't think so.”

“She's probably just blowing off some steam.”

Without warning, her brother's calm ceased to have any soothing effect.

“Do you have any idea what kind of steam my daughter has to blow off?” she snapped, leaping to her feet again. “Do you know what kind of trouble she could get into?”

“Do you remember how good she is at making sure she pulls someone into that trouble with her?” Luke refused to raise his voice. “Bobbie, we've been down this road before. There's nothing we can do but have a stiff drink and wait.”

“For WHAT?” Bobbie's voice became shrill. “The police to knock on the door again? Do you remember what happened the last time she got mad at Jason?”

Luke's expression clouded in confusion. “Mad at Jason? Hey, if the girl's actually MAD at Jason again, hats off to her. If it'd been me, I woulda punched the kid's face in…”

“That is NOT helping, Luke.”

“Trust me… he may be my partner, but that was the sanest thing that girl ever did. Sure as hell made more sense than standing up at his wedding like nothing had ever gone down between them. Now THAT is crazy.”

Bobbie put a hand to her forehead. She was not going to argue this with him. The night Carly had lost custody of Michael had been one of the darkest of her own life. She couldn't imagine what it had been like for Carly. And Luke had never seen her in the hospital, he didn't know what she looked like. He saw her attack on Jason as something heroic. Bobbie saw it as a clear sign that something in Carly could break and no one could predict what might happen next.

“You'll excuse me,” she spoke deliberately, “If I don't have a lot of confidence from that incident that my daughter didn't go out and do something that would get her hurt last night.”

“Last time I saw that girl, the last thing I was thinking was that she was some push over the world was going to trample. She is a fighter, little sister. She's not down for the count.”

There was dead silence on the other end of the line. Luke winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ok, ok. I hear ya. I'll give the city the once over. You stay close to the phone in case the Q-beasts call to gloat. If you don't hear from 'em…”

Bobbie nodded quickly. “Right. If I don't hear from them, then she showed up…” she exhaled, letting her grip on the phone loosen. “Thanks, Luke.”

“She's doing just fine, Barbara Jean. Don't let it tie you up in knots.”

“All right,” Bobbie hung up the phone with out saying goodbye. Luke was right. Carly was probably just fine.

In which case, she was going to wring her neck.

It was entirely possible, Nikolas thought, pressing up against Carly as she leaned against the door of the jag, that if he let himself, he would never stop kissing her. It was beginning to feel chronic… starting when she'd gently kissed him awake on the plane, and continuing to this moment. Every burst of conversation lasted mere seconds before they were drawn together, by some sort of magnetic force, and everything clouded up again. He knew there were things to be decided on. Plans had to be made, appointments had to be kept… But their importance was hard to grasp when he could barely think straight.

“Mmmm…” Nikolas forced himself to wrestle his mouth away from hers, “We have to…”

“I know,” Carly nodded, trying to catch her breath. She looked up at him and lost her train of thought. “Uh…”

It didn't matter. Her lips were engaged again in seconds, and she slid her hands around Nikolas’ waist, pulling him closer. Time, her brain prodded. You are rapidly running out of time. It would have been better to have been rushed, she thought through a haze. It might have brought some clarity.

“We have to go,” she murmured, finishing his earlier sentence while brushing her swollen lips against his. Nikolas nodded, though he let himself press closer to her.

“Uh huh.”

“We really…”

“I know, I know.”

Using every ounce of self-control he had in reserve, Nikolas pushed himself back from her, at arms length, and fought hard not to let himself sink immediately back into her.

“Ok. All right,” he pulled a deep breath into his lungs. “We should… talk.”

Carly nodded, untangling herself from him, and turning to look down at the ground. Eyes were key. If she avoided them, maybe they'd be able to get some place. “Right,” she pushed her hair back from her face. “Talk.”

Nikolas stepped back from her, dropping his arms. He didn't like how this felt, even if it was purposeful. He hadn't realized just how little time he'd spent with her more than a few inches from him. God, it had been hours. He shook his head out, and Carly slid down the car and hopped up onto the hood. She was holding his jacket in her arms and folded it on her lap, smiling up at him.

“Ok. So next stop, Quartermaine mansion.”

“Right,” Nikolas’ eyes glazed over momentarily. God, she looked incredible. And that smile… No. Focus. “Right,” he repeated, snapping himself to attention. “What is it? A half hour drive from the airport?”

Carly shrugged. “I have no idea. I'm not exactly an international traveler.”

“Do you want to be?” Nikolas asked, cocking his head to one side. Carly felt a shiver run through her. Damnit! It was a conversation. People had these all the time!

“What I want…” she coughed, and looked down at his jacket, twisting the arm in her hands. “Is for you to meet my son.” She looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. “And I'm getting that, right?”

Nikolas smiled, stepping closer to her. “Yeah. You are.”

Carly's hand reached out of it's own accord and closed around the collar of his shirt, pulling his face down to hers again. “Good,” she breathed, as she sunk into another kiss.

Nikolas’ hands gripped the ridge of the hood, as he leaned against the car. He felt Carly move forward on the hood, her thighs sliding around his waist. He fought against urges entirely inappropriate for their current location and broke the kiss, looking at her as if she was possessed.

“We have GOT to stop doing that.”

“Temporarily,” Carly teased. Nikolas nodded, stumbling back from her.

“Anyway… What… What were you saying?”

“Mansion. We're going there.”

Nikolas nodded, forcing his brain to replay the plan for the next five hours. He looked down at his watch.

“Damn,” he breathed, seeing the time. “We've got forty-five minutes. We'd better get you a cab.”

Carly started to agree, but stopped dead. “Uh… cab?”

Nikolas already appeared to be several steps ahead of her. “We can't show up together… that's going to look really…”

“Bad?”

“Strange.”

Carly felt herself go numb. She slid off the hood of the car, her feet colliding with the ground with a thud.

“Can't have that.”

Nikolas looked back at her, noticing the flat tone of her voice. “No, Carly!” he started back to her, startled by the expression on her face. “No, I didn't mean I wasn't coming.” He exhaled, trying to find better words. “I promised to come today, I'm just talking about how we… Present it.”

Carly nodded, pulling a brush out of her purse. She began to run in through her hair viciously, not paying attention to any resistance or complaint. “Presentation is important,” she spoke without any emotion whatsoever, a tone Nikolas recognized as a retreat behind her walls.

“Caroline,” he spoke her name softly, and Carly dropped her hands again, closing her eyes so that she didn't have to look at him. Her face felt hot, her throat was closing up, and she was getting close to tears. She felt Nikolas closer to her, felt the heat of his body, and struggled with everything in her not to move. She was certain if she did, she'd either collapse in tears, or hit him. Hard. His fingers came up to brush her hair back from her cheek. Carly bit her lip, feeling it begin to tremble. Great. Tears. She didn't want to do this!

“I'm not taking off on you, I'm not.” His hand was sliding down her face to rest on her shoulder. “I swear I'm not.”

It was the only thing fathomable to Nikolas, that might suddenly be making her so upset. He'd probably feel the same way if she'd told him she wanted to go the mansion alone. It was hard, imagining letting her go. He knew he'd have to fight an irrational fear that she'd never come back.

Carly lets out a shaky breath, still not opening her eyes, and Nikolas closed his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. He kissed the top of her head lightly, and lowered his head to speak in her ear.

“Emily wants me to come and see her portfolio. I said I'd call her… I'll just stop by to see her, and then make sure that I see you.” He pulled back and tipped her head up to face his. “Carly?”

Carly opened her eyes finally and looked up into his. They looked so concerned. She felt her jaw tightened. Sure. Concerned, but not enough to change his mind. They were going to keep this a secret, huh? He must have thought that would be obvious. Hey, why wouldn't it be? Why the hell would he be rushing to admit to anyone… particularly an upper crust society family like the Quartermaines… that he'd married her? She must have been out of her mind.

“We'll be in the Rose Garden,” she said, her voice remarkably steady. “You can meet him there.”

Nikolas nodded, wishing he felt a little more relieved. He moved his hands up to frame her face and kissed her softly. After a moments hesitation, she responded, and their lips moved together, gently stroking against one another. Carly's hand slide up and around his neck in spite of herself. She felt so cared for, the way he was kissing her, the way he touched her. It thoroughly confused her. She broke the kiss and looked up at him, trying to search his eyes for some sort of clue. Nikolas looked back at her, with undisguised amazement.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered after a moment. He wanted to say more. He could feel the words hammering at him, begging him to let them loose. He forced them down again. It wasn't time. Not yet, not here. Instead he ran the tips of his fingers down her cheek, trying to communicate everything he wanted to say. All the things he was certain would scare her to death. Carly just stared at him, a smile fighting it out with a frown of confusion.

“You've said that,” she said, pulling away, and trying to get her bearings again. “And I'm going to be late, if I'm not careful.” She squared her shoulders and looked back up at him, resolved not to think anymore about what Nikolas’ plans were. She just had to get through this afternoon. She'd deal with this later.

“Are you all right?” Nikolas asked again, still uncertain. Carly smiled wanly and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“Sure,” she shoved his jacket toward him “And you'd better take this.” She looked up at him, her eyes clear, but empty. “Just point me in the direction of a cab”