Chapter Thirty-Eight:
Home, Sweet Home

"Was he serious?"

Alexis turned on the small enclosed patio to face Stefan. He was sitting at a small glass and iron table in the corner, under the shade of a low-hanging branch. A breakfast of scones, fruit and tea was laid out for him, and he looked about as interested in it as he did in Alexis's reaction to his disclosure.

"I believe he was."

"You're going to pay attention to that, aren't you?"

He broke the scone on his plate, and picked up his butter knife. "Will you join me?"

She shook her head. "I have a meeting in half an hour. And then, God help me, I have to go pick up my dress for the Nurse's Ball. Stefan, I need an answer."

He responded by putting down the knife and looked over at Alexis in challenge. After a moment of silence, she stepped forward and picked up a piece of pineapple off the tray. He nodded to the chair. "Have a seat."

"You can't even have a simple straight forward conversation without trying to balance the implied power," she sunk into the chair opposite her brother. "And here I am, asking you if you're really going to stay out of Nikolas's affairs."

"I thought we both agreed that Nikolas needed our guidance."

Alexis picked up a scone and followed Stefan's example, breaking it in half. "Nikolas needs his sense of purpose back. I'm not convinced that this isn't going to be how he gets it."

Stefan raised his eyes and looked at her blankly. Alexis gave a small smile. "Attorney-client privilege, Stefan. All I can say is -- He's got more esprit de corps than I've seen in him for awhile."

"I suspected as much," he resumed buttering his scone. "But he's on guard with me at the moment, so I have no way of seeing it for myself."

"Ah ha," Alexis suspected a plan. "And you're going to change that."

"My aim, all along, is to have a clear view of just what my son has gotten himself into. I'm not so closed minded as to write this girl off on sight."

"Forgive me, Stefan, but you're exactly that close-minded."

He gave a thin and forced smile. "I am not Luke Spencer. I do not believe all Spencers innately evil, no matter how compelling the argument might be."

"Well," Alexis sat back in her chair. "I'll tell you this much. I've been looking over some documents on my own -- and Carly's problem isn't her talent for evil. It's her tendency towards hysteria."

"I suspected as much."

"In the long run, I think it's in our best interests to have her on our side, Stefan. She has a past, but so do half the people in this town. I mean, Bobbie was easily as much trouble in her twenties."

"Ah, yes. The woman who attempted to poison me during our marriage."

Alexis shrugged. "Well, I'd advise Nikolas not to cheat on her, that's for certain."

Stefan's expression darkened. "You see where my concern lies. If they are in a period of newlywed bliss, there is no problem. But once that subsides --"

"I just think, given what Nikolas has said -- given the circumstances -- that we should at least allow the possibility that Carly could change. Or has changed. It's been over a year since she attacked Jason Morgan. And she's been in therapy ever since --"

"Yes, of course. Infinitely comforting."

"This is the Age of Enlightenment, Stefan," she frowned. "Not everyone keeps their problems in a box under their bed. What I'm trying to say is -- She's young. She's got a serious case of arrested development. She's still growing up -- and she could become exactly what Nikolas needs. She could be a Cassadine wife. God knows she's got the brain for it. She just needs the rest of the trappings."

"I have no desire to play Pygmalion."

Alexis shot her brother a look. "At the very least, don't make an enemy of her."

"There's nothing to be gained in that," Stefan leaned back in his chair. "In fact, I aim to make her a friend."

Nikolas's body still hadn't figured out what it thought of being awake. Nonetheless, he was forcing it to work it's disconnected way from Carly's apartment to Bobbie's kitchen. The water temperature this morning had been an improvement. He felt a little less tense for it. However, no part of him was enthusiastic about the four hours of sleep. Nikolas prided himself on the fact that he had sleeping down to a science. He slept as much as was necessary and no more. Usually that added up to six hours a night. But in the last week, he'd gotten very used to lingering in bed. Not pushing headlong into his day like it was something to be gotten over with. And that made four hours of sleep feel like cruel and unusual punishment.

It was the packing. A surreal experience in and of itself, it had gone on into the wee hours of morning. Not something he'd ever done before, though Carly and Bobbie certainly seemed familiar with the ins and outs. He wasn't used to taking quite that much instruction. After a few hours he was ready to toss it all aside in favor of being subjected to endless pop culture references so that he could feel like less of an idiot.

It might have been a simpler task if Carly had just been transferring all the contents of that apartment into the guest house -- but the guest house already had dishes and silverware, couches and coffee tables. Which made the entire enterprise a nightmare since nothing -- NOTHING -- could be packed without running it past her and then making sure it was going into a box that was properly designated. Bobbie had finally given it up around midnight, and muttered "Good luck" to him on the way out the door. Turning back to his wife, Nikolas had found her glaring at a box filled with bath products. She had looked up at him with an accusingly and demanded "Why do I have so much bath gel?" He couldn't imagine a possible answer.

"I'll tell you why," Carly kicked the box. "It's because bath gel is one of those things everyone says you can't have enough of. But you know what? I have enough of it."

"Does that mean it's staying?"

"No!" Carly snorted. "Then I'd just have to go out and buy more. And the whole sick cycle starts all over again."

Ok. Sure. Nikolas nodded like this made sense. In the name of changing the subject, he picked up a statue of a Gorilla off her book case. It had been leering at him all night, and the curiosity was getting to him.

"Seriously," Carly muttered, crouching now and sorting through the array of bath products. "Have you ever picked up a pear and said 'Ok, this is what I want to smell like'?"

"Can't say that I have," Nikolas turned the statue over in his hand. There was a hole in the back of it's head and a round tin container fell out into his hand. Tea light. "Is this a candle holder?"

Carly stared at him a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, pretty sick, huh?"

"Is it coming or going?"

Carly wrinkled her nose. "It comes with us."

"It's... Bizarre."

"It's from Lucas."

"Ah," Nikolas picked up a sheet of newspaper -- say what you may about his practical life experience, he was a quick learner. "It comes with us."

"When you burn something in it, the eyes light up. Very creepy."

"Then it'll fit right in."

She'd laughed. Harder than the comment had really warranted. But she'd abandoned the bath gel and come over and sorted through CDs with him. Evaluating his opinion of her favorites, and berating him over the occasional holes in his knowledge.

"HOW do you know who Radiohead is if you've never heard of Oasis? How does that HAPPEN, Nikolas?"

They'd both become increasingly punchy as the night wore on, and slowly but surely, they'd gotten through the whole place. And at the end of it, Nikolas had understood what Carly had meant when she said she wanted to see where she fit in his world. Why she felt like they had to go the island to do that. He'd helped her pack up her whole life that night, and at the end of it, he didn't feel like he knew her better... but he did know more. Saw how much of her life laid unexplored. He wanted to know it all -- the mundane stuff that no one else was privy to. That she was looking to find out the same things about him...

Just another reason to doubt that any of this was really happening.

"What do I do with it all?" Carly had asked finally, around three am. Her hands were on her hips, and she was looking down at a box, half-filled with warped Tupperware lids and stained wooden spoons. "I mean, LOOK at it!"

Nikolas had been leaning against the wall, staring at the totaled room. How was it they weren't done this yet? The apartment was beginning to feel like that porridge pot in the fairy tale. Someone forgot to say the magic words and now it just endlessly bubbled up meaningless objects for them to figure out what to do with. Would do this forever, until it spilled out of the apartment, down the hall, into the street...

"I finally have stuff," she'd groaned. "I never used to have stuff. If it doesn't fit in a suitcase and a knapsack, then it's just stuff that's visiting me. But this was my stuff."

Nikolas blinked a few times before picking up his end the conversation.

"It's still your stuff."

She shook her head. "No, it's just crap now. Crap with no home."

"You can give it to charity," he started across the room towards her.

She'd stared into the box for a long time, then folded down the top of the box. "I'll put it in storage," she tucked the flaps under each other. "This sucks. Let's go to bed."

It took a moment for Nikolas to absorb what she'd just said. And maybe if he hadn't been so bleary, he would have just swallowed it. But it had been a long hard day and he didn't have any more restraint left in him.

"Storage?"

Carly rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Well, for right now, it can stay here. Mama isn't renting right away."

Nikolas shook his head. She wasn't quite getting his point. "Storage."

She looked at him a moment, then shook her head. "I'm tired," she put her head down and started to move past him.

"Carly," he caught her arm. Suddenly, he was feeling wide awake. "Why would you store it?"

She let out a long sigh. "Nikolas..."

He turned her to face him, "If you want us to keep it, then we'll keep it. But otherwise, you don't need it."

She'd kept her eyes focused just over his shoulder. "Stuff happens, Nikolas."

Nikolas had seized her face in his hands, his mouth coming down on hers quick and hard. It felt imperative that she stop talking. He didn't want to hear it, didn't even want to think it. He'd kissed her until he'd felt her body relax against him. Felt her hands start to move along his forearms. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed. "We're not getting divorced."

Carly pulled a gulp of air into her lungs. "You sound pretty sure of that."

"I am."

He kissed her again, with less desperation. It was the place they really began. The room where he'd started to feel things for her. It was where the fall had started. Wrapped up in that awareness, he pushed away the panic he felt whenever she sounded like this was a temporary stop for her. Covered it up with determination. And kissed her until he felt her knees weaken.

"Jesus, Nikolas," she breathed in the sweetest possible voice.

"I didn't ask you marry me to make you put your stuff in storage."

"To hell with the stuff. It's just stuff." She grabbed his head in her hands and dragged his mouth back to hers. Hours of being well behaved and responsible had taken their toll. Her mouth and hands were hot on him, and suddenly that was the sum total of his world.

"I don't want to fight with you," she gasped into his mouth, while her hands fumbled with the buttons at the neck of his shirt.

"Ok..."

Carly started to pull at his shirt impatiently. "It's our last night here..." she moved away from him long enough to pull his top over his head. Nikolas's arm had snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"Yes," he lowered his mouth to her neck. God, he was tired.

"Nikolas..." Carly'd arched against him.

"Mmmm..."

A laugh had bubbled out of her. "Have you ever been with a woman before?"

"Once or twice," Nikolas's hand had grabbed hers and he'd pulled her towards the bedroom -- stumbling inevitably on a box and nearly toppling over. Carly cracked up, leaning against him and laughing. She'd pulled on Nikolas's hands, her mouth covering his, and tried to step backward. That time, they did trip -- momentum taking over as they tumbled over the arm of the couch, landing on newspaper and a roll of packing tape.

"Oh my GOD!" Carly screeched, wriggling against him. "We weren't this looped the first night!"

Nikolas threw the packing tape aside, and pushed her back against the newspapers. The crinkled as their bodies settled against them. "We weren't a lot of things the first time." His hand had slid up her sides, brushing over her breasts. "For instance, tonight I might not be able to walk a straight line, but I have some idea of what I'm doing."

Carly had struggled up onto her elbows and looked at him with shining eyes, "Wanna show me what you've learned?"

He'd known he'd regret that in the morning.

All right, regret was a strong word. And at least it had put an end to the packing and dicey storage talk. Right now, however, it was just one more thing contributing to the A to B tack his brain was taking. He could hear someone in the kitchen and was slightly relieved, as he wasn't so certain he trusted himself alone at the moment.

Lucas was alone in the kitchen. He had his Walkman on and was mouthing the words to unheard music, while he skated across the tile floor in stocking feet. He yanked open a cupboard door, pulled down a black zip-up case, and then spun around on the spot.

He stopped short when he saw Nikolas and stared at him. It had been awhile since Nikolas had seen Lucas and he was struck immediately at the resemblance between this kid and the Lucky Spencer he'd first met him. It wasn't so much a physical resemblance -- Lucas was blonder, taller and had shorter hair, for starters -- It was more the attitude. One that came across in a glance and worked like a neon 'Keep Out' sign. It caught Nikolas off guard. Granted, a garbage truck would catch him off guard this morning.

"Lucas," Nikolas greeted him as he walked into the kitchen. "Good morning."

"What are you doing here?" Lucas pulled his Walkman off. He looked more confused than accusatory. "Are you living here now? Man, no one ever tells me ANYTHING!"

"Carly and I stayed here last night to pack up her apartment. Bobbie didn't tell you?"

Lucas snorted. "I missed curfew by twenty minutes last night -- I didn't know where she was, I didn't try to find out. I just went to bed." He shot Nikolas a look. "Why? Are you going to TELL her?"

Nikolas frowned. Ok -- this was new. "Your mother has a way of finding out about things all on her own."

"Whatever," Lucas leaned back against the counter and unzipped the case in his hand. "You're not squeamish, right?"

"I've seen you do this before," Nikolas reminded him as Lucas pulled out the paraphernalia he needed to test his blood sugar.

"Yeah, I know," Lucas was focusing on the task at hand as he spoke. Nikolas got the distinct impression he was trying not to look at him. "So I hear we're related again."

"Yeah, we are." Nikolas put a hand on the counter and watched as Lucas put his finger into the device in his hand. He winced when it jabbed the kid's finger, but Lucas didn't so much as blink. "You don't sound too happy about that."

"It's cool," his eyes darted to Nikolas's for a millisecond. "You were Ok the first time."

"Ok?" Nikolas laughed. "I was Ok? I thought a was a pretty good stepbrother."

"Step-cousin," Lucas said absently. "Stefan was your uncle."

"I stand corrected. Lucas."

Lucas had finished with his morning ritual and was zipping up the case again. "What?"

"Will you look at me?" Lucas sighed heavily, then gave his new brother-in-law a patronizing look. Gee, Nikolas thought. I can't wait until Lesley Lu hits this stage. "Do we have a problem?"

"Nope," Lucas pushed himself off the counter and started over to the fridge. "Do you want juice?"

"Sure," Nikolas brushed the topic aside. "What's the problem?"

"There isn't a problem."

"Oh, come on, Lucas --"

Lucas groaned and pulled a huge bottle of Orange Juice out of the fridge. He heaved it onto the counter and gave Nikolas a level look.

"When was the last time I saw you?"

Nikolas looked blank. Good question.

"Lulu's birthday," he answered finally. "No, the GH Christmas party."

"Yeah," Lucas nodded. "See -- It's not like we know each other."

"All right," Nikolas allowed. "But it's not like we're strangers, either. Look, I'm sorry your mother didn't warn you I was here --"

"What are you doing with my sister?"

Nikolas paused at the directness of the question. "What are you asking me, Lucas?"

"You just married her real fast, you know?"

"I know."

"So what are you doing with her?"

Nikolas struggled with that a moment. "I like her," he managed finally.

"Uh huh. A lot of guys do." Nikolas must have looked a bit surprised at the comment because Lucas rolled his eyes. "I'm not six anymore, come on."

"What are you? Twelve?" Nikolas shot back. Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me what my intentions are towards your sister?"

"Ok, sure."

"I married her."

"So?"

"So... She's my wife. I'm going to take care of her."

"For how long?"

Like sister, like brother. Nikolas felt, suddenly, a little less threatened by the storage discussion. He put a hand on the counter and leaned in so that he and Lucas were eye-to-eye.

"I'm not going anywhere. I made promises to your sister. I keep my promises."

Lucas raised his chin. "My Dad wasn't going anywhere either. Stuff happens."

"Is that a family motto?" Nikolas asked. Lucas shrugged, and turned to pull down some glasses from the cabinet.

"Just... You married Carly real fast. Stefan married Mom real fast, too." He put the glasses down on the counter and turned to give Nikolas a pointed look. "And he's not exactly around anymore."

"Lucas." Nikolas picked up the juice jug. "You know I'm not like that."

Lucas fidgeted, spinning the glass on the counter top. "I hope not."

Nikolas smiled slightly. He used to do this to people. When he was twelve. Sixteen. Twenty-one. Prove yourself -- because history is working against you. He opened the bottle, and tipped it, pouring a glass he recognized as Lucas's by the nail polish line dashed along the glass. Quick measuring.

"I think your sister's the most beautiful woman in the world," Nikolas spoke softly, directing the words at Lucas, alone. "Inside and out. All I want to do is be with her. If you're worried I'm going to be like my father, or Jason -- I'm not."

Lucas looked up at him, biting his lip. His eyes searched Nikolas's and he looked, suddenly, years younger. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper, and Nikolas had to lean down to hear him.

"She told me about Michael." Lucas didn't have to explain that Carly must have also sworn him to secrecy. "Is it real? Are you gonna help her?"

"That's..." Nikolas breathed at the look of anxious hope in the kid's eyes. The picture was expanding for him by the second. Lucas's cold hard fear that his sister was going to get hurt. That he was going to get disappointed again. The promises he made to Carly -- they spread out like water rippling from a stone's throw. Bobbie, Lucas, Michael. A whole family hoping he wasn't going to let them down. He swallowed against an ache in his chest -- sudden and invited by how familiar this was. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."

Visible relief flooded Lucas, and was just as quickly quashed, as he stepped back and tried to resurrect that wall between them again.

"Ok," he picked up his glass of OJ. "That's cool."

"That's just between us," Nikolas clarified.

"I don't tell secrets. I only said that 'cause you'd already know."

Nikolas spoke in a low tone. "So you're in on it. But that's it, for now. Just people we can trust."

"You can trust me," Lucas said indignantly.

"Yeah, well... Lucas?" he waited until Carly's brother turned and looked directly at him. "You can trust me, too."

"Yeah, Ok," Lucas looked infinitely uncomfortable at the statement, so Nikolas straightened up and poured the last glass of juice. He knew from personal experience not to push. Instead he occupied himself with the task of recapping the jug and returning it to the fridge.

"You guys staying on that boat?" Lucas asked when his back was turned.

"Not anymore. We're moving into a house on the island today."

"Spoon Island?"

"That's the one," He shut the fridge door. "What do you think? Can you stand the place to come see us out there?"

Another shrug.

"Maybe. If you're asking."

Nikolas smiled. He picked up one of the remaining glasses off the counter and took a sip. "You know what the great thing is about marrying Carly?"

"What?"

"I already know I like the family."

Lucas gave a slow smile, then occupied himself with chugging the rest of his juice. He slammed it down on the counter and turned to Nikolas, about to say something else, when he was cut off.

"Lucas!" Bobbie strode into the kitchen, Carly lagging behind. "You're up!"

"Yeah."

"What time did you get in last night?" she flashed a quick smile at Nikolas in greeting. "Good morning --" turned back to her son. "How late were you?"

Lucas let his head loll to one side, as if he was being tortured. "Mom!"

"You didn't come and say hello to your sister before you went to bed."

"I was tired."

"Uh huh. Lucas Jones, we've talked about why you have a curfew, right?"

Nikolas moved, carefully, away from the altercation forming between mother and son, and fixed his gaze on Carly. She was standing just inside the kitchen entryway, one hand on the counter and her eyes on her mother. After a moment, she glanced in Nikolas's direction, and her eyes lit up. She beamed and moved across the kitchen to him.

"Hi," she whispered, stealing a quick kiss while her family fought.

"Hi..." Nikolas started, but she was gone before the word appeared, moving efficiently across the kitchen, sliding behind Bobbie and Lucas while they argued, and throwing open a cupboard. Nikolas watched her start to prepare a pot of coffee like it was something she could do with her eyes closed.

"MOM!" Lucas complained again. "You can't PROVE I was late!"

"Lucas," Carly sighed, "You're living in a dictatorship, and Queen Bobbie, Un-elected Ruler for Life knows and sees all."

Bobbie shot Carly a look, then turned back to her son. "I'm not going to miss you two ganging up on me. And I'm letting this slide ONLY because your sister is moving out today and we're all going to have breakfast together. Now go do everything else you have to do before we leave -- I'll drive you to school this morning."

"Fine," Lucas grumped. "But I wasn't LATE."

"That kid," Bobbie sighed, when Lucas had left. "He pushes and pushes and pushes."

"You want docile, get a dog," Carly shrugged. "Nikolas? What do you take in your coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee," Nikolas watched Bobbie turn to the fridge and start hauling out breakfast food. Eggs, cheese, vegetables...

"We're having omelets, Nikolas -- do you like omelets?"

"That's... Fine," Nikolas's head spun. Was it just him, or was everyone else moving really fast? He turned his attention back to Carly. "I don't drink coffee."

"Oh, you do now," Carly brought down two mugs and put them on the counter before turning, grabbing a few things her mother had pulled out from the fridge, and starting to sort through them.

"Bobbie, is there anything I should... I can do?"

"We do toast," Carly informed him. She handed Nikolas a loaf of bread and grabbed the toaster off the counter. "Menial labor." She pushed the toaster into her husband's arms. "Plug this in at the table."

Table, Ok. He could do that. Nikolas turned, feeling disjointed, and a little out of place. "Can't be worse than last night."

Carly groaned at the microwave, where she was throwing the butter in for softening.

"If I never have to do that again..."

"Why," Bobbie was breaking eggs into a large bowl, "do you have to do all the moving today, anyway?"

"Nurse's Ball!" Carly programmed the microwave, while Nikolas located the plug she'd had been referring to.

"You could just stay here, you know. I'm not going to be listening at the door with a water glass."

"Which, right now, would mean unpacking everything I own. Such fun."

Nikolas sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "I believe we have hot water in the guest house as well."

Bobbie gave them both an equally vexed look, before beginning to chop up vegetables with alarming speed. "It just feels fast."

"Welcome to Nikolas and I," the microwave beeped and Carly pulled the softened butter out, turning and heading over to the table. "Fast, cheap and out of control." She leaned across the table and pressed another kiss to Nikolas's lips, then looked down at the table. "Knives!" And she was off again.

Nikolas turned his attention to the bread bag, pulling it open. "If we move today, then we have everything settled by the weekend, and... the sooner we're settled --"

Carly returned with the table knives. "The better."

She collapsed into the chair next to Nikolas as he fed two slices of bread into the toaster. She pushed her chair over to his, and tossed her legs casually over his lap. Nikolas shot her an amused look, then pushed down the lever.

"Impressive," Carly leaned her body towards him, one arm draped over his shoulder. Nikolas put a hand on her calf and smiled at her.

"I've had occasion to use one before."

"When?"

Well. Living with Katherine Bell, for starters.

"You'd be amazed the things I've picked up."

"Hmm," Carly gave him a teasing smile. "I've already noticed you're a quick study."

"Don't spread it around."

Carly gave a contented sigh, and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Nikolas shot a quick look at Bobbie, who was trying to cook and pretend she wasn't watching at the same time.

"Are you tired?" Nikolas asked, taking in the bright look in her eyes.

"Exhausted," Carly laughed. "This is adrenaline. You need it in this house."

Nikolas nodded. There was definitely an air of controlled chaos about the place.

"THERE!" Lucas came into the kitchen again, backpack slung over his shoulder. "I'm ready. Happy?"

Bobbie glanced up from her work. "Did you check your blood sugar?"

Lucas shot her a look. "No. Why would I do something like that?"

"I have to check, Lucas. Lay off the attitude."

"Hey, good morning!" Carly called out pointedly to her brother. "Don't I get a hug?"

Lucas looked back at her and grinned. "No." He went over to the counter and picked up the remaining glasses of orange juice Nikolas had poured. "Ew," he commented, looking at his mother's work. "What's that?"

"It's GOING to be omelets," Bobbie frowned. "And don't use words like 'ew' in the kitchen. It's a good way to get unpopular, buddy."

Lucas didn't seem to care. He wrinkled his nose and started back to the table with the juice. "I'm having cereal."

"Oh, for the love of --" Bobbie sputtered. "At least make yourself useful and set the table!"

Nikolas was distracted from Bobbie and Lucas by the light brush of Carly's fingertips across the back of his neck. "Are we scaring you?"

"No..." Nikolas turned his head towards her. "I was actually thinking... This is really nice."

The toast popped. Nikolas picked up a knife and prepared to do his part of the work.

Carly couldn't remember a time in recent history where she'd gotten a worse night sleep. Traditionally, sleep was something Carly could always do. In her worst moments, she still had the ability to retreat into unconsciousness. She reveled in the safety of it. While you were asleep, time moved forward without you having to acknowledge it; feel it. She'd used sleep to provide that service a lot in the past year. Allow it to swallow her up and move her from one day to the next without her having to do much more than keep breathing. It had remained something that she found easy.

The night before, she had lay in Nikolas's arms and listened to him breathe. Listened to the night noises the house made, and the sounds of the wind rustling trees outside. And she'd thought about the places she'd lived. The house she had lived in when she was little -- one she barely remembered -- a bungalow set far back from the street, with lizards running through the rock garden out front. After Frank left, she and Virginia had moved into an apartment. With one bedroom, her mother had slept in the living room on a pull-out couch. They'd stayed there three years, and then moved into the house her mother had lived in when she'd died. A townhouse, with neighbors sharing both walls. A place that felt smaller every year they were there.

That had been the last place Carly had ever really called home. Nothing else had felt much more than transient. Even her place with Tony -- every minute she was waiting for that to come crashing down around her. And the penthouse -- she'd barely been able to make it a few months without moving bedrooms, or being sent across the hall -- or being put into Shadybrook, Ferncliffe. The brownstone had never been anything more to her than a resting place. A pit stop, some place she'd stay until she found her breath again and got back on her feet. She hadn't, even after she'd married Nikolas, really let herself imagine having a home with him.

Lying in the dark that night, Carly's subconscious had dusted off old fantasies and paraded them in front of her while she tried to sleep. It was possible that Carly had thought about this, once. Oh, she wasn't going to admit it to anyone -- but it possible that she'd thought about having a husband and a house someplace. With a front lawn and a porch swing. Some place where you had to remember to move the sprinkler, and weed the garden. Maybe she wasn't totally opposed to some sort of white-picket-fence existence. At least she wasn't opposed to the idea of having some place that bred comfort. That sheltered, protected and warmed.

That wasn't the first thing that came to her mind when she stepped off the launch. Whoever came up with Wyndemere either suffered from a seriously dated sense of style, or an obscure sense of humor. Standing on the docks, Carly had looked up at the foreboding building and thought "I've seen this movie... Large, imposing mansion, looming over the landscape. Tiny little mortal staring up at it like it was going to eat them alive..." -- it was the opening scene to more horror movies than she could count.

Never a good sign.

Once again, Carly thought, she wasn't seeing the big picture before it was towering over her -- literally this time. She'd known what they were doing, sure. And it really had all made sense when she'd set this in motion. But stepping off the launch, she'd realized that she was entering another realm. She wasn't sure if she should be holding a dog and looking out for a scarecrow -- or checking the tree branches for Cheshire cats.

She'd never really paid much attention to the whole Spencer-Cassadine war. Not outside of ascertaining the bare bones -- noting that it wouldn't do much to hurt her or help her in life. And even though she'd known who and what Nikolas was, the Cassadine aspect had somehow gotten lost in her attempts to figure out who he was. If Cassadines were like the man she was coming to know, then they were all sweet and still and kinda touchy. Somehow she didn't think that was the case.

No, the parts of Nikolas that she was most confused by -- those were probably the hardcore Cassadine parts. The polite-to-a-fault thing. The stony silence in the face of adversity. And the disturbing tendency to be several steps ahead of where he appeared to be. For instance... That morning. They were having breakfast, in typical tumult. Bobbie and Lucas were antagonizing each other, Nikolas was absorbing all of it like it was a National Geographic special, while holding her hand under the table. Watching him, Carly wouldn't have thought there was anything else going on inside his head that she wasn't reading in his eyes, in the way his thumb moved across the back of her hand. It felt natural and simple.

And then... Bobbie had left to take Lucas to school, and Carly had realized... She had no idea what was coming next. She was leaving 90% of her belongings at the house, but the list of things she had to take were still far more than you fit into a taxi, let alone the Jag. She'd barely gotten a chance to voice the concern -- to work out in her head how they were going to do this -- When Nikolas had casually said he had cleared his schedule for the day. There were people coming to move everything from the house to the island -- and all they had to do was show up, and unpack.

She'd stared at him for about ten seconds before she'd managed to say "Oh." Nothing else had occurred to her. He did keep doing this, though. Like disappearing to get breakfast that first morning. Like the whole thing at the Quartermaines. Every once in awhile she caught a glimpse of how much Nikolas kept to himself. Realized that he was someone who saw the whole picture. Someone who planned for it. And he didn't share those plans until they were on top of her. She wasn't sure what she thought of that yet.

Though, mounting the stairs that ran up from the dock to the cliff edge, Carly was grateful for the planning part of her new partner in crime. This would be hell with boxes. The sound of Nikolas's foot steps, a stair ahead of her, came to rest and Carly looked up to see him standing on the final landing of the staircase. He put out a hand to her -- one he'd offered earlier -- and she took it as she climbed the final two stairs to join him.

"Ye Gods," she exhaled, "That is a lot of stairs."

"You get used to it."

"Uh huh," she leaned back against the railing a pulled in a long breath. "No wonder you guys are in such good shape."

"Wyndemere negates the need for a gym," Nikolas curled his arm up, flexing his biceps. "This is from opening the doors."

Carly gave a breathless laugh, and turned her face away from him. She tried to ignore the apprehension stirring in her stomach, instead turning her attention to their hands. She slowly threaded her fingers through his. Nikolas tightened his grip on her. Palms pressed together. Nice. Not nice enough to release the atomic knot in her stomach, but nice.

"Do you want to go in and say hello?" she asked, eyes fixed on his wrist. "Let your father know we're here?"

"Believe me," an edge skipped along the surface of Nikolas's voice. "My father already knows where we are." He moved closer to her, his lips brushing against her temple before asking their question. "Are you worried?"

Carly shook her head, but still didn't meet his eyes. "It's anticipation," she bent her head away from him, ostensibly stretching out her neck. The proximity of his body, the softness of his voice was having an altogether disturbing effect on her. If she let herself, she was either going to collapse into his arms, or start admitting dark truths she didn't want to bring into the light of day. About home and family and how hard it was for her to believe in those things. How a part of her still felt exposed by how much of her meager existence he'd seen last night. How she wondered if he'd thought she was hideous while she bitched and complained while they packed up her life into boxes that weren't going to come with her. It scared her, how much she was leaving behind this time. And it scared her that she was holding onto the key chain in her pocket like some sort of talisman against... God knows what.

She felt Nikolas move back from her and tug lightly on her hand. She looked up at him, and found herself smiling at the open look on his face.

"Shall we?" he asked, pulling her off the railing and after him. He paused at the edge of the landing, until Carly was at his side, then turned and lead her away from Wyndemere, into the wilds of Spoon Island.

The path leading down to the guest cottage was made of flagstones that appeared to be native to the island -- limestone, probably. Gravel was tucked between them, suggesting the path was new. It wound around hedges that Nikolas explained marked the edge of the gardens, and then down a small slope and around a sharp corner. Carly's eyes were flitting around -- from pathway, to thicket, to flowering bush... Another realm, definitely. She would never have guessed that any part of Spoon Island would be this... Beautiful. She was still absorbing the overwhelming greenery when they rounded the bend and suddenly...

"This is it," Nikolas squeezed Carly's hand, bringing her attention forward. She stared ahead, taking a moment to really absorb what had been so neatly hidden from view.

Carly swung around to face the house she hadn't even realized they were sneaking up on. She stared at it, jaw slack, until the cry of a crow or sea gull snapped her to attention.

"That's..." Carly swallowed. "That's where we're going to live?"

"If you'll have it."

She let out a sharp laugh. She hadn't really been certain what to expect, but it hadn't been this. The house in front of her in no way matched Wyndemere. It was wood and brick, stood two stories, had no turrets or parapets -- instead it featured large bay windows, a small porch, and an incredible number of flowering bushes, bending trees, and a rich green lawn. Vines and ivy creeping up the walls. Nikolas had mentioned that the house had been built over the preexisting cottage a year earlier. Effort had been taken to make it look like it had been here forever. As if it had grown up out of the earth like the greenery that protected it so carefully.

"How many ... " She shook her head in amazement, "How many guests do you people get here?"

"Virtually none."

"But your father had this built --" Carly turned to Nikolas, curious. "Why?"

"Exorcising ghosts." Nikolas stared straight ahead, unblinking. "Katherine Bell used to live here."

"Kath..." Carly sucked in her breath. Oh, great. GHOSTS. "Right. Her."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Carly wasn't really certain what to say about that. After all, this woman had pretty much ruined Nikolas's life. Publicly. And she'd lived here. Well, didn't take long for the bloom to fall off THAT rose. "Do you --"

"She was as much present in the main house as anywhere else," Nikolas looked away a moment, and when he turned to her she could have sworn his eyes betrayed some degree of desperation. His words were spilling forward, uncharacteristically fast. . "I don't hold many memories of her here -- that's more my father's problem than mine. And it's hardly recognizable, so..." he stopped as quickly as he'd started, pressing his lips together to end the stream of words. Carly waited for more, and when it didn't come, she tossed her hair over her shoulder casually.

"So."

Nikolas seemed to appreciate her lack of drama about the cottage's previous inhabitant. He raised his eyes to hers.

"It'll be our place soon."

Carly recognized the look he was giving her immediately. It was when he gave her this look that she was most aware of what they were really doing. That this marriage, this whole adventure, was about making something together. And, she realized, that Nikolas saw that picture a lot more clearly than she did. After all, he made plans. His eyes were searching hers, waiting for some sort of response, but Carly could only manage a weak smile. Well. We're not in Kansas anymore, Alice.

"Do you want to see the inside?"

Carly nodded, turning her head back to the house. "Sounds like a good start."

They walked hand-in-hand across the grass, not saying another word. Not as they mounted the stairs, not as Nikolas tested the door and found it open. Not until he held the screen door open with his body and turned back to Carly, blocking the entrance.

"What...?" Carly started to ask, but stopped short when Nikolas reached out, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her to him. His mouth was on hers before she had a chance to take in her breath. The touch was soft and effecting. Her eyes fell closed and she sunk knee deep into the kiss, her arms winding around his neck. Let quiet warmth wrap itself around her and hold her tight, even as he broke the kiss.

Carly pulled in her breath, counted to five -- mostly to reassure herself that she could still do it -- then blinked her eyes open.

"What..." she licked her lips. "Was that for?"

He reached up and pushed a lock of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "To distract you."

"From what?"

He bent quickly, catching her behind her knees and lifting her up into his arms. Carly let out a yelp and cringed in embarrassment, feeling her face heat.

"That." Nikolas smirked at her, as he turned, kicking the ajar door so that it swung slowly open. "You keep avoiding it."

"No, I don't," she protested.

He kissed her again -- quick and tender. "Yes, you do."

She hadn't wanted to admit it, but there was something about being the subject of Nikolas's grand romantic gestures that made Carly queasy. She was keeping note of them. The hotel room they'd spent their wedding night in. The dead rose he'd meant for her the night they'd ended up getting married. Even his compulsion to open doors, to 'escort' her when they were walking together. It wasn't that she didn't like them. It would be easier if she really did think it was all ridiculous and stupid. It was just that... she always had a feeling this they were meant for someone else. That Nikolas was doing this out of some sense of how things were supposed to be. Not out of real affection. It made her feel like she was supposed to be someone she wasn't. And for that reason, she tried to avoid them. Turn away from them every chance she got. And hated the part of her that got a thrill out of it.

"This is the last time, right?" she gave him a slightly patronizing look. "After this I get to walk through on my own steam."

"If that's what you want," his eyes were on hers and Carly knew from the lack of hurt in them that she must be blushing. Damn. She rolled her eyes and turned her head against his shoulder.

"Let's just get this over with."

Her eyes were closed as he carried her into the house. Stayed that way as the screen door swung shut with a bang behind him, as she felt him turn for reasons she didn't see. She felt him step down, and opened her eyes, lifted her head, as he descended the three steps that lead down from the door to the main room.

"Oh my God," she murmured, as he stepped down onto the floor.

"They took the instruction 'cottage' a little seriously," Nikolas said quietly. "The old cottage is in back -- it's the kitchen and dining room now --"

"Oh my God," she breathed again. Nikolas's grip on her released, and he set her down on the hardwood floor, but Carly barely noticed. She moved two steps out of his grasp, staring at the North 'wall'.

It was entirely window. Strips of glass interrupted by wooden slats, rose from the floor to the ceiling. This wall faced the cliff side, and looked out over the lake, away from Port Charles. At the floor the flowing bushes peaked up, and there were hints of vines cut back on the side. She realized that the ceiling it met was on the roof level -- two stories over her head -- and had a skylight cut into it. She turned on her heel, trying to make architectural sense of it, and saw the upstairs ended just over her head. The stairs to the second floor curved up to a landing over her head. Under that break lay the kitchen -- behind a wall with a window cut from it. The dinning room sat under the second floor and was separated from the living room only by the end of the ceiling -- No walls. The room was huge and bright. Stunning. She'd never have guessed this from the view of the front.

She moved forward, weaving between the sparse furnishings, towards the window. She stopped in front of it and stared at it like it was a painting she wanted to memorize. She put a hand out, but stopped short of placing it against the window pane. Instead it just hovered in front of her, fingertips tracing imaginary lines along the horizon. The edge of the green, the beginning of the rock that dropped off into an expanse of water so blue it nearly bleed into the sky. Water on all sides, she thought. It was something that should have made her feel trapped, but instead she pressed her hand over her heart and tried to breath through a surge of happiness so strong it threatened to choke her.

She jumped when she felt Nikolas's hand on her arm. She turned back to him with her mouth open her eyes glistening. She tried to say something, but no words offered themselves.

"You like it?" he asked, softly, bending his head towards her.

"I..." Carly let out a sharp laugh. "It's beautiful. It's just... Amazing."

His hand wrapped around hers. "Come see the rest."

Carly shook her head in amazement, "I don't think I can handle the rest!"

Nikolas smiled -- it came on suddenly and betrayed him completely. It was the kind of smile that came with relief. She could see his exhilaration shining in his eyes and realized, without doubt, that it was for her. That he'd been waiting for her to love this place -- to feel something for it. She reached up and brushed her finger tips down his cheek.

"Show me."

She watched him try to stop grinning. He didn't succeed. Instead he turned away, and drew in his breath like he was about to start a summation. But when he looked back to her, all he did was point one hand at the floor and announce "Living room."

Carly laughed, the most real laugh that had escaped her since the last time and she Nikolas had really been alone together. He stepped backwards and pulled her across the room, past the couch, and to the more sheltered part of the room.

"Dining room," he spun her around expertly, twisting her arm over her head. Carly let him lead her, turning on command and then allowing herself to be pulled back against him. Nikolas pointed his free hand over her shoulder. "Kitchen... the door behind the stairs is a study, or extra bedroom. It's small..." Carly craned her neck to look back at him, and Nikolas's voice died as her eyes found his. He gazed down at her for a long moment in silence. His tongue wet his bottom lip unconsciously, then he shook himself and pulled back from her, turning back to the entrance. "Upstairs."

She bit her tongue not to make some smart-alecked remark. He was being too irresistible. She followed after him, up the landing at the front door, where he turned and dropped her hand, instead placing his hand on the small of her back. Again, Carly felt that same twinge she'd felt when he'd carried her over the threshold. That same lack of knowledge of how to handle being treated like this. She opted to ignore it, and started up the stairs with Nikolas following a step behind.

The top landing was a simple rectangle, with two doors on one side, and a single door on the opposite side. Carly turned back and looked at Nikolas expectantly. He walked past the first door and knocked lightly on the closed door.

"First bedroom --" he moved past it, "It's small, shares a bathroom with... " he paused, turning the knob on the door and pushing it open in front of them. "Second bedroom." The door opened to reveal a simply room that was at least twice as big as her bedroom at the Brownstone. A queen sized bed sat in the middle of the room, oak headboard against the wall. There was a dresser on one side of the room, and a wardrobe on the other. There was a door that must lead to the bathroom Nikolas mentioned. Carly moved into the doorway, her hand resting lightly on the door jamb, as her eyes studied the room and it's contents. You could see the top of Wyndemere out of the windows against the far wall -- nothing but sky and treetops from her vantage point to the other one. She nodded to herself. She could be comfortable here.

"Our room?"

Nikolas's arm slid around her waist, his hand resting -- consciously or unconsciously -- on her abdomen. "No,"

"So it's --" Carly felt all the blood in her body suddenly rush to her head. Both her hands flew to cover his and her body leaned back of it's own volition, landing against his chest. She shook her head slowly, tears blurring her vision. She couldn't even get the word out of her mouth.

"I thought we could make it Michael's," Nikolas spoke against her ear. Carly just nodded, pulling in several breaths before trusting herself to speak.

"Ours... Would be across from it?"

"It's right there," Nikolas gestured towards the other wall, though Carly didn't turn to look. Her eyes were fixed on the bed. It was hard to see it as a child's room with that bed in it... but furniture could be moved, and ... Oh God. She turned in Nikolas's arms, and buried her face against his chest. Her arms snaked around his waist and pulled his body against hers. She pressed herself against the warmth of him, soaked up how firm and real his body felt. She felt his hand come up to cradle the back of her head, lightly running through the strands of her hair. When she finally looked up, tears were sliding down her face.

"I can't..." It was all she could get out.

"I told you I'd give you everything," he spoke quietly. "And you said you needed a place for him to sleep."

Carly tried to pull in another breath, but it got cut off by a quick hiccup. She pressed her forehead against his chest, letting her eyes close.

"Have you ever felt like you're getting too much too fast, and any second you're either going to wake up, or it's all going to come toppling down on you?"

"Yes," his hand slid under Carly's chin and tipped her face up so that he could see her eyes. His thumb brushed across her cheek, interrupting the tear tracks. "Mostly in the last week."

Carly stared up into his eyes, watched them. Felt his arm around her back, and his hand on her face. Solid beating heart in his chest, steady body for her to lean against. In quick flashes, her brain projected images -- little clips of daydreams, desires, long nurtured, interposed over this setting, with this man as a major player -- and just said yes. Yes to all of this. Nikolas and the house and the idea of making some kind of life here. She tightened her grip on her husband and for that one second she felt clear. She felt sure. She felt home.

The sun was setting when Nikolas opened his eyes. He blinked, blearily, at the red and orange sky framing the tree tops that he could make out from his place on the bed. Carly was still sleeping soundly, her head on his shoulder, her face turned towards him. He sighed, and raised his head from the goose down pillow it was resting on, straining to try to see the wall clock that hung on the far side of the room. No good. Bedside clock, he noted, was not among the things that had been brought over from his quarters in the main house. He'd have to rectify that.

Turning his attention back to his sleeping wife, Nikolas forced his brain to push itself out of pause. It wasn't easy -- he felt disoriented. Sleeping in the middle of the day always left him feeling worse than the fatigue that drove him to it. And lying here, in rumpled clothes, on top of the bedclothes, with Carly's body cuddled up to his, his mind fought against responsibility. It was just happy to float here -- or better yet, drift back off to sleep, filled with the scent of Carly's hair and the warmth of her touch.

But. There were boxes downstairs to be unpacked, and details that needed to be addressed before tomorrow. He wanted to check in with Cece before tomorrow -- a day that was going to be entirely about the Nurse's Ball and little else. After that, they were victim to another weekend -- and other things would demand attention. The house, for instance. His father. Alexis. Michael.

He'd known he'd pay for stopping the small momentum that had kept him going for most of the day. Left to his own devices, he probably would have pushed through the fatigue, the strange heightened feeling of having had too little sleep and too much caffeine. But in the late afternoon, he'd watched Carly staring miserably into yet another box, unable to process what she wanted to do with the contents. She'd been running on empty for hours and the hollow look in her eyes had unnerved him. She hadn't resisted his suggestion that they take a nap -- that in and of itself indicated that she was just too tired to go on. Resisting things that Nikolas suggested was becoming a hobby of hers.

Few things had ever moved him like the way their bodies had descended so seamlessly onto their marriage bed for the first time. They'd folded together, settling naturally with their arms around each other, and drifted into sleep easily. The last thing Carly had said before she closed her eyes was that she could still feel the bed rock -- like the boat. By the time Nikolas had managed to work out a response to that statement, she was fast asleep against him. He'd listened to her breathing as sleep claimed him, and felt quietly content with his present.

That must have been hours ago. What time was the sun setting? It changed so rapidly this time of year, he wasn't certain he remembered -- It had to be after eight, at least. He looked over at his left arm -- the arm that his watch was on. It was stretched across the bed, under Carly's neck. He tried to move it -- to bend it closer to check the time. Pins and needles shot along his arms into the tips of his fingers. He sucked in his breath and let it drop onto the bed again.

All right. Fine. So he'd just stay here. No shame in that.

"Do you want your arm back?" Carly spoke without stirring, her voice thick and muffled against his shirt. Nikolas turned his head towards her, and breathed in the scent of her hair.

"You can keep it."

"No," Carly let out a long sigh. "I'll move."

Nikolas waited. Just as he started to think she'd drifted off again, she stirred, turning her face against his chest. She kissed him through the cotton of his shirt, then slid down his body, opting to nestle her head against his stomach, throwing one of her legs over his while her arm draped itself across his waist. Nikolas rolled his shoulder, looking down at her. At the informal and possessive way her body held onto his.

"It's getting dark," he murmured to her.

"Hmmmm."

"Do you want to get up, or make going to bed a little more official."

"Nnnnmmmm..."

Nikolas reached his arm down, though it complained mightily, and sunk his fingers into her hair. He gently massaged the base of her scalp as he worked the blood back into his finger. "I think I need a translation on that."

Another sigh. She turned her head against him again and ground it against his stomach. His fingers stopped their ministrations and pulled themselves into a fist.

"You talk a lot."

Nikolas smiled slightly. "If you want to see the stables today, we have to get up now."

"Tomorrow," Carly groaned. "I wanna sleep."

He nodded. Ok. Fine. He didn't actually feel like getting up anyway. "We can do that."

"Ok."

Carly snuggled closer to him, her eyes shut tight. She had the beginnings of a headache, and her body felt like wet cement. She had slept so soundly since they'd come up there, that she'd been surprised wake up and find that time had passed. Hardly seemed real. Sleep you can't feel doesn't count, she told herself, and the amount of work that was waiting for them downstairs didn't encourage her to make any Herculean Effort to get out of bed. But as she lay there waiting for sleep, she found it wasn't being as cooperative as it had been earlier. Instead, she was listening to the sounds Nikolas's stomach made -- to the rhythm of his breath, and feeling the warmth of his body against her cheek. She slid her hand from around his waist and ran her palm back and forth across his stomach. On impulse, her hand fisted around the material of the shirt and pulled it up to expose the hard muscles of his abdomen. She let her fingertips trail along them, then slowly traced the circle of his navel.

"Carly..." Nikolas's voice was half warning, half entreating. Carly flattened her palm against him and let out an impatient groan.

"I'm not falling asleep."

"Hmm," his hand cupped the back of her head, and his fingers started to wind through her hair. "Strangely enough, neither am I."

Carly grinned, then moved with sudden energy. She pushed herself up, crawled over his body to straddle his legs. Sitting up, she stretched her arms over her head, her back arching to encourage the rest of her body to wake up. Nikolas watched with unconcealed appreciation. She looked down at him, her eyes half closed, and let her hands fall to rest against his stomach again.

"I like this room," she said, as if delivering a long awaited verdict. Nikolas gave an amused smile. The room was spacious, with an attached bath and balcony on opposite sides. It provided them more space than the entire Zephyr had, deck and cabin combined.

"Good."

"I like this bed too," she inched up his body, her hands moving to caress his chest. "Pretty manly, for something with a canopy."

Nikolas pulled in a deep breath, his eyes fixed on hers. "We try."

She leaned down and kissed him. Softly on sensual lips. Nikolas put his hand to her cheek and she turned into it, kissing his palm. He let out a sound of aroused contentment.

"You're so beautiful right after you wake up."

Carly gave a wry smile. "You're just saying that in an effort to seduce me."

"No," Nikolas's hands moved to grip her hips and he rolled her over without warning, pulling her body under his and descending to kiss her deeply. "If that's a side-effect, I won't object."

Carly grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his head back to her, her mouth taking his hungrily. It was purely chemical. No other word for how she found herself responding to him. Sexually active since she was fifteen, and she had never felt like this about someone. It wasn't even about sex, it was about... everything. This need to touch, to explore, and my God, your smell your taste, your skin, your hands on me and closer, I need you closer. I need more, I need the warmth and the glow and oh my GOD, you make me happy.

The kiss broke and it felt like pulling a plug from the wall. They gazed at each other, trying to catch their breath. Nikolas looking as dazed and stunned as she felt. She laughed, and turned her face against the bedspread.

"You didn't put this on your list of choices for this evening." she gasped, as Nikolas's hand snuck under her top.

"An oversight," he whispered, before turning his attention to the column of her throat.

A loud, firm rapping that echoed through the house from the downstairs. They froze, lips still pressed against skin. Then Nikolas pulled back and put his head on her shoulder, groaning.

"Visitors?" Carly laughed, breathlessly.

Nikolas lifted his head. "Visitor, singular."

"Excellent timing," she turned her face towards him, lay a light kiss against his jawbone.

"He excels at that," Nikolas muttered, letting his eyes close. Her teeth grazed the underside of his chin. Nikolas tried, despite distractions, to weigh his options. "He knows we're here."

"He knows we're newlyweds," the sharp knocking came again. "That's not a good sound."

"Very unpleasant," Nikolas agreed, pulling her into a deep kiss, then extricated himself and leaned his forehead against hers. "I'll get rid of him."

"Alone?"

"I'll be quick," he promised, sitting up.

"Better quick down there than quick up here."

Nikolas paused, and glanced back at her. He had absolutely no answer to that. "Don't go anywhere."

Carly pushed herself up on her elbow and ran her eyes over him. "You look like you just rolled out of bed."

"Good," he muttered, running a hand over his hair. "Maybe he'll take the hint."

Carly felt a chill run through her at the grim expression on her husband's face. He kept doing this. He was suspicious of Carly's private conversations with his father. He was angry that Stefan had dared to speak to her one-on-one. And since they'd arrived on the island, he'd very purposely kept her away from him. She leaned forward on the bed and tugged on Nikolas's shirt tail.

"Are you still trying to keep me away from your father?"

"Yes."

Nikolas stood up without further explanation, and walked out of the room. Carly blinked at the place he'd been sitting, then shook her head. She vaulted herself off the bed and started out of the room after him, reaching the door just as Nikolas started down the stairs.

"Why?"

Nikolas stopped, three stairs from the top, then continued down them. "Not now."

"No, now!" Carly started down the stairs after him. "Does he breath fire? Can he turn me to stone with a glare? What do you think he's going to do to me?"

Nikolas reached the door, and paused with one hand on the doorknob. Damn it... He turned his body towards her and looked up. She was standing midway up the stairs, both hands on the bannister, with an expression of determination. He had to admit, this wasn't a question he'd been expecting, and he didn't have any black and white answer for her. Not one that wasn't going to make him look a little paranoid or neurotic.

"Carly," he started, but she cut him off with a sudden rush down the stairs.

"I dare you," she said, coming to stand toe to toe with him. Nikolas stared at her, mouth open slightly.

"I don't take dares," he stated finally. "I choose my own risks."

"Funny," Carly reached out and grabbed the door knob and wrenched it. "So do I."

She pushed the door open with her eyes fixed on her husband's, a dark look of determination on her face. Nikolas only prevented himself from responding by reminding himself of the expected party on the other side of the door -- the one who had no doubt heard every word of that.

He was wrong, though. There was no one on the porch. There was nothing, in fact, except for a large, white box, sitting in front of the door, expectantly. It's only decoration was an extravagant ribbon that wrapped around all sides, meeting in an ornate bow at the top. Nikolas frowned, then looked up to see his father strolling away from the cottage with an air of relaxed indifference. He could read the movement in the same halfway he could read everything about this man. The retreat was slow -- allowing the chance to be called back or let go. Why he was playing it that way, Nikolas had no hope of knowing.

"Mr. Cassadine," Carly pushed past him, through the door. She'd spotted her father-in-law before the box, and nearly tripped over it as she crossed the porch.

Nikolas bowed his head. He should have known. It seemed the best way to get Carly to do something was to tell her not to. He'd really do better to remember that in the future.

Carly descended the stairs, and was partway across the grass, in bare feet. The sun had sunk almost entirely now, and her quarry was back lit in such a way that he seemed almost mythical.

"Ah," Stefan turned, "I thought perhaps I had called at bad time."

Carly could tell he was attempting another of those very blood-chilling smiles. She felt a sudden urge to turn back and make sure Nikolas was still behind her. Ok, so maybe the reason Nikolas was putting up a wall between her and Stefan wasn't a big mystery -- but she never trusted people when they tried to protect her from something. The only person whose judgment she trusted was her own -- even if it had proven, over and over again -- to be notoriously bad.

"You did," Carly said bluntly. "But we're here now. Did you want something?"

The sound of creaking boards let Carly know that Nikolas was approaching. She refused to turn back, though. Still, she reached up and clasped his hand when she felt it land on her shoulder.

"It would seem," Stefan started back across the grass, "Unacceptable to let this day go by without welcoming you to the island."

Carly automatically turned back to look at Nikolas, then the box on the porch. "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts," she murmured.

"Touche," Stefan returned. "Though, if you are concerned -- and since, as you pointed out, you are here now -- you might want to open it now."

Nikolas watched his father carefully from over Carly's shoulder. He hated this. There were no words for how much he hated feeling this defensive and tense in Stefan's presence. One-on-one, no matter how angry he was, he didn't bother to disguise anything from the man. With Carly here, however, he had no wish to let his true fears and suspicious out. It left him bound and gagged, unable to do anything more than watch their interaction.

Carly had turned her face towards Nikolas and he broke out of his trance, turning to her. She looked at him quizzically as she slowly answered Stefan, giving Nikolas ample opportunity to cut her off.

"I... Guess we can go inside, then...?"

Nikolas was about to agree -- reluctantly -- when Stefan spoke up.

"Perhaps it would be better to open it here."

Nikolas looked back at his father in surprise. This, he hadn't expected. He could read the meaning of the gesture on his father's face -- something he knew he could see because he was meant to. Stefan was letting him know that he had no intention of entering the cottage until invited. It was so startling that Nikolas decided immediately to take him up on it -- if only because he wanted to examine his choices.

"Here is fine. The house is..." He glanced down at Carly. "Not ready for visitors."

Carly glanced between the two men, who seemed to be communicating in some way that didn't involve words -- or facial expressions, for that matter. She turned back to the porch and picked up the box. Settling onto the steps, she placed it in her lap and stared hard at the top of it. Any luck, this was a really heavy Cassadine Decoder Ring. She leaned over and put her ear to the top of the box.

"Well. It's not ticking."

The both men turned their blank stares on her. Wow. Wrong audience for that one.

"Do you want to help?" she asked Nikolas. Housewarming, or wedding gift -- whichever this was, it was a couple thing.

"Go ahead," Nikolas told her, but he moved back to the porch, climbed the steps and standing before her. Stefan, also, moved to the bottom of the steps and stood apart from them. Patient.

"Ok, then." Carly felt oddly nervous. She took the end of the ribbon in her hand and pulled at it. Sooner she got this over with, the better. She opened the box and pushed the tissue paper aside. Above her, Nikolas finally deigned to glance down at the contents. He recognized it before Carly even uncovered it -- saw the hint of color under the thin paper and knew what it was. His eyes stayed glued to it, unable to do anything else. Just stared while Carly lifted the delicate item from it's container, and Nikolas automatically dropped down on the step beside her, and restrained himself from taking the gift out of her hands. He'd never seen it handled before, and something old and ingrained in him wanted to stop it. He clenched his hands into fists, instead.

"It's..." Carly shook her head. The item in her hands wasn't like anything she'd laid eyes on before. It had two curved handles and... a spout of some kind. The round surface was covered with an ornate and bright design of flowers and leaves. It looked like a tea pot on an acid trip. "It's..."

"It's a samovar," Nikolas said quietly.

"Oh! Yeah, Ok. A samovar." Carly nodded, still examining the thing. And a samovar is what, now?

Nikolas glanced at Stefan who looked unbelievably calm, considering. Nikolas didn't buy it for a second, there was simply no way the man's every fiber wasn't screaming out at the casual way Carly was handling it.

"Perhaps, Nikolas, you'd like to share the history with your bride."

Carly looked up at Stefan, feeling herself flush at the word. Bride? For some reason that term threw her even more than 'wife'.

Nikolas shook his head. "It's your gift, father."

"Very well," Stefan drew himself up to his full height, and Carly felt, suddenly, like she was back in high school history class. "My great-grandparents smuggled very little out of Russia when they fled the Bolsheviks. That which they did bring are prized amongst the surviving Cassadines as nothing else. They go beyond a token, beyond an heirloom. They are symbols of our family's history. Our past -- that which brought us to where we are."

Carly frowned. This, she remembered, was why she'd pushed to come to the island. To see what Nikolas came from. Listening to this, she was beginning to wonder if ignorance was, in fact, bliss.

"So this is something from Mother Russia, then."

"They brought candle sticks, Faberge eggs and other small items. Things easily carried and transported. Things that could be traded for safe passage, if need be. But this..." He put a foot up on the bottom step and bent forward, so that their eyes were level. "This piece is not small or easily carried. It was not for barter. It was perhaps the most valuable object they brought with them."

"Valuable?" Carly tightened her grip on the samovar. Valuable wasn't the word that had leapt to mind when she'd looked at it.

"It's a very early piece. The very first samovars resembled English tea pots. Later, in the 18th century, they took on the more familiar shape of an urn. This, however, is estimated to come from the late 17th century."

"17th century?" Carly paled. "You mean it's over three hundred years old?"

"That's an estimate."

"So I guess that would make those guys on Antique Roadshow piss themselves, huh?"

A flicker of disquietude crossed Stefan's face, then he nodded. "It is beyond antique. It was passed down from generation to generation before our family's legacy was ever threatened. A samovar, in a Russian home -- even those of nobles -- is representative. It expresses a family's wealth. Their prosperity."

"Their hospitality," Nikolas finished, looking up, finally. "It represents their home."

"Ok," Carly gave a high pitched laugh. "I'm going to put this down now!" She turned and handed the samovar off to Nikolas gratefully, allowing him to carefully put it back in the box. She noticed his hands were a little unsteady and the look in his eyes suggested that, as immense as the weight of this gift felt for her, it meant even more to Nikolas. She pulled in her breath and tried to come up with what to do next. Oh, right! Thank-yous!

"It's..." she blinked a few times. Words. She needed words. "It's incredible. Thank-you."

"It's place has always been with the future of the family," Stefan's eyes were on his son. "And that is were it shall be, now." He turned his gaze back on Carly and gave a slight nod. "I welcome you to the family. And now I'll leave you to your evening."

Neither Nikolas nor Carly said a word as Stefan turned and retreated. They both watched after him, though. Carly feeling a mixture of touched, scared and confused. Nikolas feeling nothing short of miserable.

"Ok, I give," Carly turned back to her husband after Stefan disappeared around the bend of the path. "What does it do?"

"We don't use --"

"I know! I'm not even going to breath on that thing, are you kidding me?" She scooted closer to Nikolas, distancing herself from the priceless artifact. "What did it do?"

"It's a tea service. You pour hot drinks from the spout -- "

"Which is why it's a sign of hospitality."

"Exactly."

"So... This is big deal. Him giving us that."

Nikolas managed to nod. His head was swimming. This wasn't something he even knew how to explain. It was something he'd have eventually inherited as the Prince. The Prince was always in possession of the original Cassadine Samovar. Technically, it had been his, back when everyone thought that's who he was. Now... Now his father was the prince. And he had parted with it.

"It's a big deal," Nikolas said, finally. "It's a very big deal."

Carly stared at Nikolas, trying to read his expression. A task made more difficult by his staring forward in the dim light, eyes fixed on the horizon. Carly reached out and turned his face back to her. His eyes met hers and immediately, his emotions bled into them. She saw the unmistakable conflict in his them.

"You really love him," she whispered. Nikolas fought against an urge to close his eyes, draw himself away from her.

"I do."

"Why are you so determined to keep him away, then?"

"Because I know him," Nikolas's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I know what he's capable of. And I know the way he thinks."

Carly frowned. Cryptic logic. "What does he think?"

Nikolas reached out and grabbed her, rather than tell her the answer. Tell her that his father thought he could control this and Nikolas wasn't certain he was wrong. His mouth closed over hers without preamble. Just crashed down on hers, his hands gripping her waist and pulling her body towards him, off the porch and onto his lap. There was nothing subtle about it, everything stewing on the inside was poured into Carly, and she felt the uncensored desire and fear. When he pulled back, Carly's eyes zeroed in on his again, like a detective in interrogation.

"You're scared of him?"

Nikolas shook his head, his face heating. God, she made him feel so intensely naked in front of her. Her ability to read him unnerved him as much as it touched him.

"I'm scared of what he might do."

"To who? To us?"

He averted his eyes. He couldn't believe he was telling her this. Letting himself look so incredible incapable. "Sometimes he goes too far in the name of protecting me." He looked back at her, his eyes grabbing hers. "If something happens that you don't like -- if you think he's up to something, you have to tell me. I'll listen to you. The last thing I want is for him to change anything between us."

Carly leaned back at the intensity in Nikolas's voice. He wasn't kidding -- he looked nearly feverish. She brought her hands up to frame his face, and kissed him thoroughly. Softer, and more inciting than his earlier kiss. Quiet and assured next to his desperate and dangerous. An electrical current shot right through his core, and the kiss became charged. Her hands held him still while she kissed him into mindlessness, stripping away fear and suspicion, fatigue and obligation. Leaving just clean and uncomplicated emotion. Enough for them to drown all other concerns in. When she pulled away, Nikolas kept his eyes closed.

"He can't change that."

Nikolas swallowed, hard, then opened his eyes to find them confronted with hers. He stared into them, losing himself for a moment, before coming to and shaking his head slowly.

"No," he breathed. "He can't."