Chapter Seventeen:
Michael

The tick of the clock was heavy in the room, the only sound, magnifying an already oppressive silence. It was amazing how quiet the mansion was when its occupants were all in separate rooms. If they were home at all. There was a tendency, Carly was well aware, for them to scatter when they knew she was coming. Monica and Bobbie had a hard enough time not sharpening their claws on each other at the hospital without having to face each other and the hard truth of their present reality, on weekends.

Carly let her eyes flit around the room, avoiding touches like the mantle. She knew every nauseating details of the photographs there, had spent too many hours staring at them. Particularly the center one… enshrined, though no one in the house would admit it. Her eyes invariable settled on it, no matter how hard she tried to occupy herself with other thoughts. It was a curiosity to her, still. This family… well dressed and dripping respectability… All smiling as if they didn't have a care in the world. It was hard to believe these people where the Quartermaines, and not some doppelgangers from an alternate reality.

Especially Jason. This just couldn't be him. The smile, first of all… In all the time she'd know him, she'd never seen anything similar to that expression on his face. And then there was the hair, swept back, and hanging nearly to his shoulders… The sure sign of a Boy Scout trying to inject some “edge” into his image. It was laughable. If this guy had been in Jake's that day, she wouldn't have looked at him twice, unless it was to smirk.

AJ was easier to recognize… standing at the extreme right, hands in his pockets, just a step further back than he should be for smooth composition… And not smiling. Looking at it, at how he just didn't fit in… She could remember, in a hazy sort of way, that in the moment, it had felt right. That when they'd kissed she hadn't felt guilt or anxiety, or anything except a sharp and palpable need. Desire. For AJ… Carly diverted her eyes, feeling ill. She'd never thought, then… not even after she'd come to her senses and scurried back to Tony… that she'd end up hating him this much.

Well, things change, she thought, pursing her lips. In her life? They could change on a dime, she thought as she pressed her hand against her breastbone. The edge of the gold band dug into her skin. Her wedding ring, something she'd had on her hand an hour ago and now had secured in her bra… hidden so no one could see it. She hadn't really seen THAT twist coming, now, had she?

Carly could feel her features twisting into an unapologetically bitter and hurt expression and turned from the fireplace quickly, walking the length of the room, pushing her breath out in short bursts as she walked. Never mind, she counseled herself. Forget all about it, all about him. Its show time, girl. Great things are afoot, remember?

Carly spun on her heel, her skirt billowing out a bit, She swung her arms, her eyes flying around the room again, looking for something… anything… to focus her attention on. There had to be something. Something besides the settee she'd examined to death, or the vases that no longer held any interest. Something new…

Her eyes collided without warning on another photograph. It was set up on the table behind the couch, facing her, staring RIGHT at her. She took an instinctive step backwards, and the eyes followed her. There they were… Robin and Jason.

She'd seen this photograph… She even recognized the frame. It was the engagement photo. One Robin had insisted on and had then given to the bridesmaids as a “thank you” gift. Which, Carly thought bitterly, was nice, since she'd been expecting cyanide.

Robin's eyes were wide, like a cupie doll from hell, and so real Carly was surprised she didn't see them blink. The way she was looking at her. It was creepy… Like she knew something. Like she was amused, or thought Carly's current predicament was particularly entertaining.

Robin. She'd had to be so nice to her the past few months. A part of her, deep inside, nearly choked on the realization that she didn't have to do that anymore. In fact, it was beginning to feel unfathomable that she ever had. God, the strange pitying way Robin had looked at her the morning of her wedding. It was given Carly a feeling of sinking, that she had suddenly become nothing more than a shadow, a non-issue. She'd been a lot of things in her life, but ineffectual wasn't one of them.

God, Carly thought, putting a hand to her head. I must have been out of my mind. At least the girl is out of my life now.

The room dipped violently, as soon as the words crossed her mind. Out of your LIFE? Why? Because you've finally grown a brain and found a guy who ISN'T head over heels in love with her? Gee you must be proud.

Carly felt her heart begin to race. God… Robin WAS everywhere. That hadn't changed. This last week, it hadn't felt real. It had FLOWN past and she had barely had time to register a single lucid thought. She hadn't let herself think about the fact that a week was all she was getting. That when Jason came back… Robin did too. And if her marriage felt shaky now, then what was going to happen when Nikolas laid his eyes on that wide-eyed innocent again?

Carly shook her head hard and turned away from the photograph before she made herself physically ill. She couldn't think about this now. She forced herself to focus and stared hard at the wall, the bookshelves with dark leather bound books lined carefully, evenly. She felt her eyes blur, her heart beat still. She measured her breath carefully, letting herself turn off, preparing for what always came next.

“Carly! You're early.”

She let herself close her eyes for just a moment, gathering herself as best she could. She didn't have the luxury of falling apart now. She could go home and throw things later. If she had the energy. She forced her eyes open before turning dutifully towards the voice and pasting on a smile that she knew even she couldn't sell. She'd always thought she could play any person who crossed her path. When it really counted, when she really had to focus, she could. And invariably the person she was out to snow fell for it hook, line and sinker. It had worked with everyone, from Monica, to Tony, to everyone at Ferncliffe. Only Jason never fell for her act, and she'd decided a long time ago it was because he was too much like her. But this person before her… This creature… Carly wasn't sure if she held some unearthly bond with her or is she was just the devil in a powder blue power suit. Either way, she hated this woman with startling ferocity, considering they had never had a conversation.

She'd met Christine “Call me Chris” Galloway only a few weeks after losing custody. It had been the final slap in the face. Not only had the courts taken her son away from her, but then they had sicked this woman on her. This perfectly groomed, wide-eyed, tight lipped, young woman whose feet didn't touch the ground when she walked. Not one word that passed her lips that held the slightest truth or sincerity. And she was in charge of making sure that Carly didn't do anything to hurt her own child.

Somewhere, someone was feeling vindicated. But it sure as hell wasn't her.

“Only a few minutes,” Carly's voice was breezy, as she took in her adversary. Christine was standing just inside the door, her heels together, hands clasping her briefcase, which she held in front of her. Her bone-straight, blonde hair was curled just at her shoulders, and her silk blouse was undone at the neck just far enough to reveal the thin gold cross she wore around her neck. She blinked a few times before entering the room and briskly making a bee-line for the desk next to the French doors.

“Well, it's good to see you're making an effort. And your mother isn't here today?”

Carly dug her fingernails into her palms.

“No. I made the effort all by myself,” she spoke carefully. 'Do I get a gold star?', she sneered inwardly 'Or just a pat on the head?'.

“That's wonderful,” Chris's smile widened, her thin lips stretching in a way that made Carly queasy. She opened her briefcase with a sharp click, acting as an auditory exclamation point. “Especially since your visit was so short last week.”

“There was a wedding.” Carly's words came too fast. They were too defensive, too close to anger. She cleared her throat as if she had breathed down the wrong pipe. “It was too bad it couldn't be rescheduled.” She tried to mimic Chris's tone measure for measure. 'Too bad you couldn't juggle your schedule against the Quartermaines just a little, you sanctimonious cow…'

Chris removed a note pad from her case and closed it with one hand as she pivoted on her heel to face Carly.

“Well, these things can't always be helped!” she beamed, and after a moment, Carly managed to smile in return.

“I'd really like to see my son now,” she managed to make the words sound non- threatening, though her jaw was snapped tight. Christine nodded.

“Oh, I told Reginald to let Mr. Quartermaine know you were here. He'll be bringing Michael down in a moment, I'm sure.”

Carly turned away quickly. Moments lasted forever in this house. It was the land where time came to die. She always left feeling like she'd aged a decade. Except when Michael was there. Then, suddenly, everything sped up. Then, everything was too fast.

Carly brushed her hair out of her face. “I'll wait for him in the garden”. She walked out the doors without looking back. She didn't let herself breathe again until she was across the patio and onto the grass. God, she hated this place. Every brick, every blade of grass, every speck of dust that settled within it's vile gate. She couldn't make herself feel all right about Michael being raised here. If nothing else that picture on the mantle convinced herself her… these people weren't living in the real world. What were they going to teach Michael that was really going to be of any value? And how was she supposed to rectify this when she wasn't even allowed to take him off the grounds? She just had to watch while they tried to mould her perfect child into the sort of Ken Doll Jason used to be, or pushed him until he ended up like any one of the substance abusers he was growing up around.

Michael was hers. She'd always felt that way. She'd carried him, she'd fought for him in every way she knew how, given everything she had, for the right to love him. The actual father, while always of cataclysmic importance, had never had much to do with who Carly felt Michael was. He was a part of her, that was all that mattered. And there was no way any son of hers, anyone walking around with her genes, was going to thrive in this house.

Mind over matter… Mind over matter… Carly repeated the mantra to herself as she strode across the grass. She should have that down to a science, she thought miserably. After all, it wasn't like she hadn't done this before. It wasn't like it got easier, or less gut churning. So what the hell was her problem today? She just couldn't access that numb feeling she used to keep the Quartermaines and their minions at bay. She felt raw and unstable and nothing she did could make this feeling go away.

“Damn him,” Carly finally spat under her breath. Angry tears were stinging her eyes as she stepped past the climbing roses that lined the trellis that marked the entrance to Lila's garden. She couldn't hold it back anymore. How dare he? Had she asked him to suddenly show up in her life and turn her everything upside down? She'd been doing just FINE. Ok, not fine, but she'd been used to her life. She knew how to handle it. What had she been THINKING letting this man in to start twisting her up in knots, waking up feelings she thought she'd locked up securely and making her a whole new kind of crazy?

I hate him for this, she thought, sinking down onto the grass. I don't have room for this, I don't have TIME to feel this confused, and I have too much stuff to concentrate on as it is. Why hadn't she thought of any of this last night? God, had it been THAT long since she'd gotten herself messed up in something like this? Had she forgotten how dangerous stuff like this could be? Open yourself up an inch and suddenly all this baggage would stampede out and trample everything you were trying to do with your life. Relationships sucked. What was more… She sucked AT them. What, exactly, made her think this was going to work out?

Carly closed her eyes, trying her damnedest to talk herself in off this emotional ledge. Her gut was beginning to swirl and she could feel a breakfast she hadn't eaten start to rise in her throat. God… The stuff she'd told him. What had she been thinking? How could she have let him get to her like that? In a way, she could understand things like the actual decision to fly to Vegas and marry him more than she could the fact that she'd told him all that stuff about Michael and her depression. In the light of day, with some actual physical space between them, things felt different. She could feel reasonable thought… or her version of it… descending. He was just a GUY, for God's sake. A messed up guy at that.

A messed up guy who was now her husband.

Oh, that was it. She had to stop doing this one night stand thing. It always got so damn COMPLICATED.

“Mommy!”

Carly looked up sharply, shaking herself back to the here and now, and saw Michael appear in the framed entrance to the garden. The tension melted out of her as Michael's hand slipped from his father's grasp and he ran across the grass on four-year-old legs, hurtling himself into his mother's arms. Carly pulled him up onto her lap and clutched him tightly against her, pressing her cheek against his soft red hair. Don't cry, she warned herself. That inevitably confused and concerned Michael. And, if it was possible, she got the distinct impression it made him feel guilty. Or maybe it was just sad. Either way, she tried never to do it.

“Ohhh,” she breathed, smiling sincerely for the first time in hours. “Michael, baby… It's so good to see you.” She let her eyes open and glanced up to see the dark expression on AJ's face. His eyes bored into hers, suspicious and questioning. Her brow furrowed in response, confused about what she could have done this time that was so different than any other time she'd been here. She averted her eyes, focusing on the lush green carpet of the grass and caught sight of the white material of her dress spread out against it. She felt a sudden urge to laugh. Oh, yeah. Hell, she didn't know what to make of this thing, she couldn't imagine what AJ would think to see her come strolling in here like she just stepped out of some feminine protection ad.

A giggle bubbled up from deep inside her and she pulled back just as Michael started to struggle in her embrace, focusing her attack of amusement on him. She ran her eyes over him, quickly. He looked so much more like himself this week, and she gave an inner sigh of relief.

“Look at you,” she grinned. “God, you didn't get bigger last week, did you?”

“I don't know,” Michael shrugged. “I got a new ball,” he said, opening his palm to reveal a small, multi colored super ball. Carly laughed. Edward must just love that.

“Where did you get THAT?”

“He can only play with it outside,” AJ's voice cut through the air like a dirge, completely flat and without humor. Carly felt herself bristle at the sound, but forced it down. She focused on her son, pouring everything she had to give and more, into him. He was all that mattered. Not Christine, not AJ and not Nikolas. They could all play their stupid games, she didn't care. Not until six o'clock.

“Don't worry,” she whispered in his ear. “We'll find a way to ditch the fun police, ok?”

Michael giggled and pressed his hand over her mouth. Carly, following her cue, buzzed her lips against his palm, and her son pulled his hand back, scrunching up his face and laughing. For the life of her, Carly couldn't remember where that game had started, but Michael loved it. He shook his hand out and looked back at his father.

“Are you staying?”

AJ was still eyeing Carly with distrust, and took a moment to answer.

“No. I'll be in the house if you need me.”

Michael looked momentarily vexed and Carly felt a familiar flash of jealousy at the reminder that her son actually liked his father's company. He rallied quickly, though, and leaned against his mother, studying his ball.

“Ok”.

“Don't…” AJ's eyes clouded as he struggled to find an acceptable end to the sentence. He cast a quick look at Christine, who reached over and patted his shoulder lightly.

“Don't worry, Mr. Quartermaine. We'll be just fine.” The woman turned and gave another of her toothy grins to Carly. AJ nodded and crossed to Michael, grabbing him and hugging him from behind, bending down on one knee.

“Have a good afternoon, kiddo,” he looked up, his dark eyes fixing on Carly's. “Be good.”

Michael nodded, and AJ rumpled his hair quickly, then turned and walked out of the garden without another word. Carly, already feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise on end, watched him leave. He never got easier to deal with. Even after a year of this, the hatred emanated off of him. She stayed up nights, sometimes, wondering what kinds of things he said to Michael about her when she wasn't around. What the hell did he have to be so bitter about now, anyway? He'd won, hadn't he?

Carly heard a slight cough and looked over to see Christine's watchful eyes trained on her. She turned her attention back to Michael, feeling as if she'd just been caught daydreaming in class.

“Ok, little man. Did you have a good week?”

Michael nodded, looking at her curiously. “Uh huh. Did you miss me?”

Carly reached out and gathered her son up in her arms, squeezing him tightly.

“Every minute of every day.”

Stefan paced the length of the courtyard in slow, deliberate steps. Flowers were bursting into bloom in the garden, and their fragrance drifted on the warm air, along with the bird song and distant sound of waves crashing against the bluffs of Spoon Island. It was a peaceful afternoon, little to encourage anything but relaxation and contemplation.

Stefan's mood was in direct contrast to his surroundings. His brow was knit, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. As he made circles around the patio, his mind combed over events, both recent and long past, trying to come to some sort of solution.

Port Charles was wearing on him. He'd long discarded any plans he had for the town and now stayed here simply because it was the place Nikolas stood the greatest chance of being happy. He had rejected a return to Greece… that had not been a surprise… to stay here, so one had to believe he felt there was something here for him. Though with each passing day, it got harder for Stefan to fathom just what that might be. It was difficult to stand by and watch Nikolas let himself get hurt over and over again by the same people. The depths of Nikolas' resentment when he attempted to intervene knew no bounds, however, so here he was, hands bound, waiting once again.

“Stefan?” a voice calling from inside brought him back to reality. He blinked and turned to face the French doors as his sister stepped through them. “Ah. There you are.” Alexis's manner was brisk, denoting she was most likely here on business. “I was about to send out a search party.”

“My apologies,” Stefan cleared his throat before crossing to her and extending a hand to take the folder she was holding. “I was not aware we had business today.”

“Just some documents for you to sign,” she sighed. “A feeble excuse at best.” She pressed her lips together, studying his face. “I wanted to see how things were. After last week.”

“You're referring to Nikolas.”

“I'm referring to both of you,” she frowned. “You look tired, Stefan.”

Stefan shut heavy lids, acknowledging the truth in her statement. “Nikolas did not come home last night.”

Alexis blinked. “Nikolas?” she asked, incredulous. “Are you sure?”

Stefan turned to her, his expression hovering between surprise and insult. “Not only am I certain of that fact, Alexis, but it is the second time it's occurred this week.”

“Do you have any idea where he might be?” she prodded. Stefan shook his head, staring off into space.

“Most probably at the marina.”

“That would stand to reason,” she mused, placing her brief case down on the wrought iron patio table. “I'd forgotten the boat was arriving this week.”

“This does not provide an answer to his whereabouts after the Morgan Wedding, or where he might have been the other day when he missed diner without a word.”

“Wait a second…” Alexis approached Stefan cautiously. “You mean this is becoming a habit?”

“I mean,” slight irritation entered Stefan's voice, “Something is happening. Something worrisome. And there is little I can do about it. Not without sparking some sort of confrontation.”

Alexis nodded, spinning the lock on her briefcase idly. She looked up and crossed her arms, giving her brother a level look.

“Would that be a necessarily bad thing?”

Stefan closed his eyes momentarily. This was not a topic he and Alexis agreed on. Like Nikolas, she harbored some resentment at being out of the loop on this particular family secret. That was primarily her reason for resigning from Cassadine enterprises and becoming only Stefan's personal attorney. Part of the inevitable splintering of the Cassadine core that had occurred.

“I will not push him, Alexis.”

Alexis cocked her head to one side, giving him a look that said it all better than words could have. She knew her brother too well to accept this as a choice he would have made if he wasn't, even after all these years, terrified that he was going to lose his only child.

“This can't go on, Stefan.” Alexis's voice gave no room for argument. She saw Stefan's shoulders tense, all the same. There was a time she would not have pursued this conversation for anything. But that time was long past. “It's ridiculous. He's not happy, you're not happy… You're both stuck here in this enormous house, circling all of this unfinished business like dogs. You can't ask me to stand back and watch this!”

Stefan's mouth twitched and he brought a finger up, pressing it against his lips. He stood perfectly still for a long moment, then turned to his sister carefully, controlled.

“You are in no position to judge my relationship with my son.”

“Nikolas and I have our own independent relationship. I know how he feels about all of this. I know how quiet and introspective he's becoming. You can't tell me you don't feel it! He's pulling away… not just from you! From everything! From his life! I can't watch him do it and I don't know how you're managing either."

Stefan stiffened and Alexis saw the anger flash in his eyes before he dropped his hand, revealing the tight knot his mouth had twisted into.

“You don't think I understand this? You think that I'm ignorant to the type of pain he must be feeling right now? I have spoken to him about Miss Scorpio at LENGTH. He resents my interference,” Stefan began to shake with the pent up frustration. “He tells me I'm wrong, he tells me I don't understand, he dismisses my every gesture. I have done everything in my power to distract him. I have ensured he has met MANY available and suitable women… there is nothing I can DO!”

Stefan turned away, fumbling with the handkerchief in his pocket, and bringing it back up to his mouth as if it would assist in helping him stem the flow of words. Alexis, unintimidated by the explosion, clenched her hands at her sides, and took in a deep breath, before striding across the patio to stand behind him.

“I know you've never had anything but Nikolas' best interests at heart. You've more than proven that. But everything we've tried hasn't worked. It's time to do something else.”

Stefan brought his hand down and stared at it, at the slight tremor in his fingers, the sharp crest on his ring.

“I can't do much of anything,” his voice was low and thick, “if I can not find him.”

Alexis frowned, then moved around Stefan to stand in front of him, her eyes searching out his, unrelenting.

“Stefan?” her brother's eyes flitting away from hers, settling on the horizon over her head. “You… You don't think he's at the Marina, do you?”

He didn't respond.

Alexis closed her eyes, old instincts stirring. There was nothing she could do, she knew that. As a child she'd been pushed aside, made unimportant. Just a step above the servant children. Perhaps not even that. She had, following Stavros' death and Helena's banishment, made absolute certain that Stefan would find her services crucial in all matters. She'd succeeded beyond her intentions. And now, even hardened by disillusionment, it was hard to fight the pull to be the person Stefan could rely on. To step in and clear away the debris once again.

“I could run a very discrete check on his credit cards.”

She lay the offer in front of Stefan, annoyed at herself for submitting to his rules in this particular game. She didn't agree with this, didn't think it was healthy or productive for Nikolas any more than it was for Stefan. And the proof was in Stefan's eyes as he slowly met her gaze and then nodded, turning away.

“Please.”