Chapter Thirty-Nine:
Preparations

The world had changed under the influence of late night rain that still hung in the air as Carly came out of the house. She paused on the porch, tennis shoes in hand, to study the day. Everything looked gray and heavy. The temperature had dropped, the flowers on the bushes had dropped. As omens went, she'd seen better ones.

It was Friday morning, the morning of the Annual Nurse's Ball, and she felt miles from the spirit of things. It looked like a perfect day to explore her new surroundings -- to stay close to home with her husband, and finish putting their house together. Last night, they'd gotten precious little done. It was inevitable -- they provided each other with far too many distractions. But things had been nice. Quiet and soft. No sharp words, after his father's visit. No big confrontations. Just simple things. Talking about where things belong, and what could go where. About why Carly had dozens of decorating books and why Nikolas didn't have to unpack anything at all. Standing together, in the dim light of a single unshaded lamp that cast shadows up the wall. Staring at each other over the contents of boxes, both knowing that this was the single most straightforward, uncomplicated, subtext-free evening they'd ever spent together.

She'd gone to bed happy; she'd waken up scared.

Nikolas had gone down to the docks. He'd told her that, bending over her and dripping water from his hair on her neck. She'd rolled over, burying her face in the pillow and told him he got up too early. He really did -- Carly hadn't been up before eight for this many days running since...

Well. Since she'd had a reason to.

Practice, maybe, she thought as she stuffed her feet into the well-worn sneakers. They hadn't really talked about it yet, not in specifics. But Nikolas had marked that room for Michael, and he had yet to flinch in the face of the topic. Gave her a cautious little bit of hope. Slowly but surely, this marriage was beginning to feel more and more concrete to her. It was starting to look like the best decision she'd made in a long time. Last night, she would have said that without hesitation. Would have gushed that Nikolas was too good to be true, that he was, without question, the single best thing that had ever happened to her. Proof that God wasn't actually out to get her. Or, at the very least, was currently looking the other way.

Everything has a flip side. When Carly had one good thought -- one honestly positive deliberation -- it's evil twin would inevitably appear to contradict it. This morning, they'd all been waiting for her, breeding in the pit of her stomach. Hiding in the closet next to the dress she'd chosen to wear. Lurking behind the soft whisper of Nikolas's voice. It was all there for her now, in bright flashing lights. Last night was nice. But today was the real world come to play. Batter up.

Carly hopped down the steps onto the slippery flagstones and started walking towards the docks. She just wanted to see him -- no really specific reason. She just felt like staying upstairs, alone in their bed, was only going to serve to make her more nervous. Give her more time to wonder just what she had to do to transform herself from Carly Roberts/Benson/Spencer/Whatever into the woman who's name would be printed next to Nikolas's in the paper the next day: Caroline Cassadine.

That really said it all: Mrs. Cassadine. A role she still hadn't figured out. Every time she closed her eyes and tried to imagine what that was supposed to look like, she'd just end up picturing Nikolas with other women. Smaller, darker, more socially graceful women. Who spoke more than one language, who had degrees in Art History and knew what a samovar was. Far cry away from her not-quite-white-trash upbringing and patchwork education. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that Nikolas really had lost his mind since he'd met her.

It might have been Nikolas's father who first pointed out the dimensions of what she'd gotten herself into -- but he'd only sped up a realization she'd already been coming to. It was there in the private jet, the insta-wedding. Even in that basket of fruit in their hotel room the night they'd been married. The way the newspaper had stacked up Nikolas's pedigree against her list of ex-boyfriends. This wasn't a part she was ready to play. It all just mixed around inside her with the stone cold terror that made her want to run back to bed and dive under the covers. Fake malaria. Join the army. Anything to get out of going.

But the Cassadines ran the hospital. They, again, were sponsoring the ball. And though Nikolas had given her the choice not to go -- he hadn't given that choice to himself. He had to make an appearance. It was his job. And Carly -- as much as she loathed this day -- was damned if her husband was going stag to his first major public appearance since marrying her.

She spotted Nikolas the moment she arrived at the top of the steps. He was far below her, standing on the end of the dock, facing the water. There was no sign of anyone around him -- no activity on the dock. The launch was nowhere to be seen. Carly stayed glued to the spot, staring at his back like she was seeing him for the first time. She had meant to go down to the dock, to lure him back to their home. But instead she found herself moving robotically down the first few steps and sitting, eyes still fixed on him, on the damp stairs.

Did she even know when the first time she'd laid eyes on him was? The impression must have been fleeting. But now she watched him, and wondered what it was people saw when they looked at him. Dark. Handsome. Strong. She could tell that, even from this distance. He was moving below her -- though almost unperceptively. She watched, waiting almost, for him to turn around and look at her. He didn't. Instead he turned to the side, a smooth pivot, and she saw what he was doing. She'd seen it before. Large groups moving in synchronicity. He stood alone, though. Focused, determined, careful. Every movement carefully measured and executed. It was the embodiment of everything about him that she couldn't comprehend. How did anyone execute that kind of authority over themselves?

"Tai Chi."

Carly started, and turned. She was surprised to be interrupted, but not at all shocked at who she saw standing over her. She nodded at her father-in-law then leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"I know what it is," she said, not without a trace of defensiveness.

"You're familiar with it?" The stairs creaked slightly as he stepped down onto the step above her.

"There's always a group of people going through the motions in the park across from General Hospital every morning."

There was a pause. "Yes. I've noticed them."

Carly fought the urge to smile at the haughty tone of his voice. "Unimpressed?"

Another step. He was standing beside her, on the same step she sat on, now. "There is a lack of... discipline."

Carly cast a wary eye up at him. Why was she even engaging this conversation? Nikolas had made it plenty clear last night -- and before that -- that Stefan was the enemy. And she wasn't so stupid as to think that she and Nikolas coming to live here wasn't a case of her playing along with his suggestions to her that night at the hotel. But now she sat here talking to him like she was looking for his approval.

She was not going to look for this man's approval.

"You're a snob," Carly informed him bluntly. She noted he didn't look shocked or offended, before she turned away from him. "Just stating a fact."

"I do not deny it," he stepped down again, then turned back, studying the rain splattered metal. "I don't seen any reason why I shouldn't be, as you put it, a snob."

Carly pushed the water drops aside with her hand -- a gesture she made mostly because she was certain he wouldn't. "You're better than the rest of us, then?"

He gave a thin smile. "I am apart from the rest. That is enough."

The careful avoidance of the word 'us' wasn't lost on Carly. She nodded, staring down at the wet stair.

"So. What does that make me?"

"I don't believe you were ever reputed to be someone who followed party lines."

Carly's mouth quirked and she covered it with her hand, leaning her elbow on her knee. "Nope."

He was staring down at Nikolas with a critical look on his face. Studying every movement he was making, clearly aware of how clean Nikolas's actions were. Carly wondered if Nikolas had any idea he was being watched. Maybe he just always assumed he was being watched. She frowned. That would explain a lot, actually.

"I take it you are prepared for the ball this evening."

She sighed. Here we go. The big topic of conversation. She tipped her chin up, squinting her eyes against the still-ascending sun. "Sit down."

He looked blank. "Sit down?"

Carly nodded at the space beside her. "If you want to talk to me, get dirty. Sit down so that I don't have to look up at you."

There was a pause, and Carly thought she might have seen the slightest hint of a smile -- something that made her nervous -- before he unbuttoned his jacket, removed it, and meticulously folded it over his arm. He brushed the water off the step above Carly in a fluid gesture, then sat, feet on her step, and a look of amusement on his face. "Is this to your satisfaction?"

"I'm mildly impressed," Carly admitted, dryly. "and the answer to your question is no, I am not prepared for the ball, and no, I'm not planning on embarrassing your son."

"I hadn't suggested you were."

"No, that was a bonus." Carly turned her attention back to Nikolas. He was facing the water again. How long did he do this? Did he do it every day? Not on the boat, he hadn't. But then, that had existed as time out of mind. This was probably something that was a normal part of his life. A part of the routine he and Carly hadn't established yet. God, how was it she still knew so little about him? What if someone asked her -- all right. No one was going to ask her about her husband's martial arts experience. But if they did, she's be pretty much lost. Whereas Carly's talents were limited to emotional blackmail, lying and other forms of intrigue. And Nikolas was pretty well versed in them. She let out a long sigh.

"Is there anything he isn't perfect at?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Carly stretched her back, elbows on Stefan's step. "You're his father -- you've known him his whole life, right? Is there anything he's not perfect at?"

"I'm uncertain what you mean."

Carly rolled her eyes. "I mean he speaks what -- five languages?"

"Fluently, he speaks four," Stefan responded, matter-of-factly. "Though he's very capable in the romantics. And Latin. His Japanese is limited."

"And he works for this huge international corporation," Carly continued, unfazed. "He works at the hospital. He rides horses, he sails -- apparently he's a big Tai Chi aficionado. He even parallel parks well." She turned and gave Stefan a bored look. "Is there anything he isn't good at?"

Stefan, Carly was to learn, never took any question lightly. And now, he looked down at her intently, staring unflinchingly into her eyes. Carly tried to hold the gaze, tried to look unfazed. But it was not until her inner apprehension started to bleed into her facial expression that Stefan delivered his answer.

"Nikolas takes on projects," Stefan delivered this to her as if it were a great truth she should write down for future reference. "He always has. He sets his sights on something and doesn't rest until he's conquered it. He has been this way as long as I have known him -- all this life. It extends to his studies, his work, sport -- He has moments of rebellion - but he always perseveres."

Carly looked away quickly, searching for some innocuous response. Like 'ah ha', or 'that's nice'. For some reason, her brain just wouldn't allow the words to make it to her lips. He takes on projects. Jesus. Was that what she was?

"He is not a strong Chess player," Stefan interrupted her thoughts. She glanced back at him. He was, absolutely and without doubt, smiling now. "but that seems to be a product of his complete lack of interest."

Carly didn't mean to do it. She really didn't. But she smiled back.

"I ride horses," she informed him, suddenly. "Or I did. I can crochet a granny square. I can turn a really mean cartwheel. And my Japanese is about on par with my Esperanto."

"Then I think," Stefan adjusted the cuffs on his shirt. "that you are more than prepared to accompany my son to a charity ball."

She stifled an urge to laugh and forced a frown onto her face.

"You know, everyone and their dog keeps telling me not to trust you."

"I'm unaware of what I might have done to offend the canine population..." He stood, his coat still folded over his arm. "but the rest doesn't surprise me."

"You're not supposed to have a sense of humor."

"My apologies." he said simply, as he pulled on his jacket again. "I am not going to try to convince you that everything you've heard about me is erroneous -- particularly since I expect a great deal of it came from Nikolas." He looked down at her, and Carly, much to her irritation, found herself craning her neck to see his face. "Our interests appear to lie along similar lines. And if they do not..." he stepped down, bending closer to her. "Then perhaps you should take their advice.

He straightened up and started to descend the stairs. Carly stared after him, in confusion.

"Hey!" she called out. He paused, and turned to look at her expectantly. She set her jaw determinedly. "I'll make up my own mind."

"Which is admirable in itself," he placed one hand on the railing. "In parting, Carly. If you are concerned about today -- The only thing required of you is that you remember who you are. You are not attending this ball as your reputation or your history. You are yourself and that alone. The rest need not concern you. Those who will care are small people of small minds. And we are Cassadines."

Carly laughed slightly, though she felt a sudden urge to shudder.

"Apart."

He smiled again. "And more than occasionally, above."

"Look up."

"All right."

"No, wait. Close your eyes."

"Felicia."

"I don't want to get glitter in your eyes! They'll be all red and puffy for your speech."

Robin sighed and let her eyes fall shut. "Maybe I should forgo the glitter this time. It makes me look like a ten year old playing dress-up."

"It makes you look pretty," Felicia said, painstakingly applying three sparkling faux jewels to Robin's temple. "It's... exotic. It's unique."

"Look!" Robin's eyes flew open. "An HIV+ fairy princess!" The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. She looked away quickly.

"Wow," Felicia sat back on the arm of the couch and looked at her niece with surprise. "That sounded a little bitter."

Robin made a face. "I'm sorry. I've just been really irritable the last few days. I don't know what's wrong with me." She picked up a make-up mirror sitting on the table behind the couch. "It looks nice. Thanks."

"More than welcome," Felicia kept her words light and devoid of extra meaning. She reached up into her own hair, and started to pull down the pin rollers holding up her mane, as if nothing out of the ordinary was lurking in this room with them. "Nurse's ball takes team work." She gave a weak smile. "On all levels."

Robin nodded and picked up her make-up case. Jason was out. Jason could be out -- glory of being a man. He just had to shower, dry his hair, and throw on his tux. He'd be set for the night. Robin was going to primping all day, once she got through with the major alterations. On top of that, she could feel Felicia's eyes on her. Her shoulders tensed while she waited for the inevitable question.

"Is there something you want to talk about, Robin?"

Robin shook her head, digging through her bag and pulling out the basics she needed to complete her makeup, now that her eyes were done.

"I'm fine."

"You seem a little..." Felicia bent forward, shaking her head out and separating her curls as she spoke. "Distracted."

Robin picked up a tube of sheer high shine tinted lip gloss and stared at it. Shimmer shimmer shimmer. There was never more pressure for her to look good than at the Nurse's Ball. Couldn't look tired, couldn't look anything less than radiant. Little Miss Hope-Springs-Eternal. She used to hold onto the title with both hands. She wondered why, this time, she felt so ambivalent about it.

"I guess I'm just feeling melancholy," Robin sighed, staring at her reflection as she opened the tube of lip gloss.

"Are you nervous about your speech?"

She gave a hollow laugh. "I could do that speech in my sleep by now."

"Something else, then."

Note to self, Robin thought as she applied the color to her lips. No more detectives as relatives. She rubbed her lips together, smoothing out the gloss, then gave a thin smile to the mirror. Her reflection gazed back at her mockingly.

"You know," Robin frowned. "The first Nurse's Ball, I didn't know if I was necessarily going to make it to the 7th one. I didn't even know if I was positive, I just knew..."

Felicia stood up and moved to her. "I know, honey."

"No," Robin turned, closing off any attempt at a hug and paced across the length of the living room. "You don't. Because really, I'm standing here... and I'm not feeling particularly grateful. I'm not feeling lucky or blessed. I don't feel like going out and encouraging people to help fund research for a disease that's been ravaging the world's population for almost two decades now..." She turned back to her aunt. "I just wish I could be normal, and not have to think about all that stuff. I wish I could just..."

"Think about something else?"

"Think about something else without feeling guilty." Robin turned back to Felicia, a pained look on her face. "I'm not worried about the ball. I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Instead I'm standing here trying not to obsess about something completely stupid and unimportant! But I can't get it out of my head!"

"Nikolas and Carly, maybe?"

"That obvious?"

Felicia gave a weak smile. To be honest, she'd known this was going to be in the air. She'd been waiting for a chance to bring it up. Besides -- every conversation she'd had this week had been 'blah blah blah Nurses Ball, blah blah blah Lovely weather we're having, blah blah blah -- Have you heard about Nikolas Cassadine and Carly Benson?!?'

"Do you know if they're going to be at the ball?" she asked, instead of commenting. "They looked a little off guard when you mentioned it to them."

"They're going," Robin ran her hand through her as-yet-uncoiffed hair. "Nikolas told me when I ran into him at the hospital."

Felicia blinked. "So you've talked to him, then."

"Oh, yeah." The tone of Robin's voice said it all -- the conversation, clearly, hadn't gone well.

"I can't imagine he's looking forward to it," Felicia said, turning her attention to the mirror. Hair looked good. Make-up still needed work. And she had to get out of her jeans and denim shirt at some point. "Everyone there's going to be watching every move they make."

Robin winced. "Nikolas hates being the subject of gossip."

"Well, he sure married the right girl to avoid it," Felicia murmured. "Carly might be the only person in this town more talked about than the Cassadines."

"Carly earns it," Robin flopped down onto the couch. "She doesn't exactly go for subtle."

There was a long silence, and when Robin finally turned her eyes back to Felicia, she saw that her aunt was looking at her with concern.

"I thought you and Carly were making peace."

She groaned and slid down into the pillows. "We were."

"But?"

Robin stared down at her sock-clad feet. She pointed them, then flexed them. Pointed them again.

"She's in love with my husband," she said quietly, speaking to the floor. Behind her, Felicia frowned. She was hoping the wedding would have put an end to conversations like this.

"Has Jason said anything? About them, I mean?"

Robin drew her knees up against her chest, hugging them to her. "No."

Felicia let out a sigh and rounded the couch, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table. She clasped her hands together and leaned forward. She waited until Robin turned her gaze on her. Her dark eyes were filled with old worry.

"Don't..." Felicia paused, weighing her words carefully. "Don't you think that maybe this is going to be good for you and Jason?"

Robin shook her head firmly. "He said that Cassadines always want something."

Felicia flinched before she could stop herself. "So he has said something."

"Nope," Robin leaned back, turning her eyes to the ceiling. "He said there wasn't anything else to think about. But you know how this goes. He says Carly's in the past and that he's finished with her and then she cries wolf, and the next thing you know..."

"He still feels guilty."

"He feels responsible."

Felicia reached out and patted her knee. There was so little to say here. The only advice she really had was of no use now -- Get out. But Robin was caught. She'd as much as admitted this to her the week before the wedding. She loved Jason. She needed Jason. Robin didn't have the luxury of assuming a long life. She might go decades without getting sick -- people did, nowadays. Or she might suddenly be blindsided by the disease lurking in her blood stream. What she wanted, she wanted now. And Jason was prepared to give it all to her. Except for one tiny thing...

"Nikolas might feel Carly's his responsibility now," she tried to comfort her. She didn't know the boy, but from what she had heard, he wasn't particularly given to sharing. However, at this suggestion, Robin's eyes filled with sudden tears. "Oh, Robin!"

She turned her head, blinking rapidly to try and force the tears back from whence they came. "I'm going to ruin my eye-makeup."

"It's waterproof," Felicia assured, pulling a Kleenex out of the box beside her on the table. "You're expected to cry today."

Robin took the tissue gratefully, and dabbed lightly at the corners of her eyes. "You're going to think this is so stupid."

"Oh, try me."

Robin grabbed one of the throw pillows from beside her and hugged it to her chest. She stared hard at her hand, the tissue clenched in her grip.

"I think I'm jealous."

"Of Nikolas?"

Robin nodded, miserably. "It's ridiculous. I haven't been with Nikolas for a long time."

"Does that matter?" Felicia asked. "I didn't know there was a statute of limitations on that."

Robin shrugged, occupying herself with pulling at a loose thread on the cushion. "There's not, I guess."

"You're just supposed to be above it?"

"Something like that."

"Robin," Felicia spoke with infinite patience. "This is the first time one of your ex-boyfriends has gotten into a serious relationship --" She paused as Robin raised her eyes. "Jason and Carly weren't this kind of serious. And --"

Robin pulled in a deep breath. "Felicia, I was never in love with Nikolas."

"Ah," Felicia leaned back, supporting herself with her arms. "But he was in love with you, right?"

Robin's eyes welled up again. "That wasn't my best moment."

"We all make mistakes," her aunt allowed. "Especially when we're hurt and confused. If we're not sure of what we're feeling."

"I wanted to feel the same way about him," Robin nearly whispered the words. "I really did -- But my feelings for Jason were too big. It was all pretty irresponsible of me. We were both feeling really vulnerable, and... After everything that had happened with Carly and Michael, I just wanted to feel important to someone again."

"That doesn't sound so unreasonable."

Robin shook her head. "It wasn't fair to him. He was just so sweet! And gentle. And he had so much pain in him -- I wanted to help him. Honestly, I thought I was at first. But he wanted me to love him, and I just... I didn't. I broke his heart and -- there wasn't like it was all in one piece to begin with."

Felicia nodded, sympathetically. "You didn't go out to purposely hurt him."

"I just couldn't figure out how to... " She pressed the Kleenex to her face again. "You know, the fact that we stayed friends? That was really important to me. I knew it was more than I deserved."

"I think you're being a little hard on yourself."

"You don't know Nikolas!" Robin lifted her head. "He's the worst person in the world to rebound with, and now Carly --" Robin let out a shout of frustration and pushed herself off the couch. "Carly's been obsessed with Jason since she landed in this place. Suddenly she's in love with Nikolas? Come on!"

"Carly's got a bit of a reputation as a heartbreaker."

Robin let out a derisive laugh and started to pace. "Carly doesn't break hearts, she ruins people's lives! And it just ... I makes me sick to think of her having her hooks into him. She's already got him wrapped around her finger -- I can just feel it! And God, I'm so JEALOUS!" She turned back to her aunt, eyes wide and mouth open. "I don't want her to be more important to him than I am! The idea just makes me crazy."

Felicia had been following her niece's frenetic movements with her eyes. "Sounds like it's more about Carly than it is about Nikolas."

"Yeah, well," Robin crossed her arms. "Isn't everything about Carly?"

Felicia cringed inwardly. How had she gotten herself into this situation? She'd started out trying to smooth the waters between Mac and Jason -- and trying to maintain her own relationship with Bobbie. Now she was in the middle of the maelstrom, with too much information and not enough clout. Constantly listening to the different factions and unable to do anything to really solve people's problems.

"Robin," she spoke hesitantly. "Maybe you should talk to Jason about this --"

"What?" Robin laughed bitterly, "Say 'Darling, I love you, but I'm incredibly jealous of my ex-boyfriend's wife'?"

"Who just happens to be his ex-girlfriend. Robin --" she stood up, sticking her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Where do you and Jason stand on the Carly issue right now?"

Robin's throat was so tight, she wasn't sure how she was managing to breathe. Nothing else in the world -- not the deaths of her parents, Stone, her own HIV status -- nothing hurt as sharply as hearing her husband's name spoken along with Carly's. She'd made peace with everything else, but this... This was the problem that just wouldn't go away. It didn't have any solution. And standing here, two weeks into her marriage, she realized she didn't feel any more secure.

"You know what Nikolas said to me?" the words came out in a rush. "He... Said that if he and I were going to stay friends, we couldn't talk about Carly. Period."

Felicia sucked in her breath. "Oh, boy."

"If Carly asked him to stop seeing me, he would."

"She's his wife, Robin."

Robin wheeled around, tears shining in her eyes. "And I'm Jason's!"

Felicia bit her lip. "Have you.. Asked him? Not to see Carly?"

"I can't." Robin blinked several times. "He won't, I don't want to hear him say it again, it's all just... " She let her eyes close. "It's such a mess. I don't know how else it could be, but... right now? Everything is a huge mess."

"So you've asked him before?"

Robin bowed her head. Had she asked him before? Oh, how do you count the ways? Directly, she'd done it twice. The first time, they'd broken up over it. The second time...

The second time it might have been the biggest mistake of their collective life together. Because before that second decision -- before Jason had actually agreed to her terms -- things with the three of them were salvageable. Somehow -- and she couldn't imagine what that somehow was -- they might have been able to pull it together. But they'd gone another route, and that road, in the end, had tied her destiny to Carly's more than anything that had come before it.

It had made sense at the time, in ways that were hard to explain now. The anger -- the hard cold hurt and violent fury Jason had inside of him when AJ found out about Michael... God, it had been scary. Carly had screwed up in a way no one -- not even Carly herself -- could believe. She hadn't meant for AJ to find out -- Robin was sure of that. But when Jason had left her to come back to Robin, Carly had lost it. She had plotted and schemed and gone to extreme lengths to win her meal ticket back. When none of that worked -- she'd used the only thing she had at her disposal: The truth about Michael. If Jason didn't come back to her, she insisted she was going to let AJ know he was a Daddy.

It was an empty threat, and Jason had called her on it. So Carly had done something so unbelievably stupid and desperate... So off the scale, that to this day both Jason and Robin were still in a bit of shock. She'd purposely baited AJ. Dropped hints, clues -- things that she wanted Jason to find out about. Things that AJ was never supposed to be able to put together. To let Jason know she was serious. To compel him to come back to her and Michael where she so firmly believed he belonged.

But AJ hadn't proven as gullible as expected. He had put the pieces together and come to the correct conclusion. And then... the walls came a tumbling down. Nothing -- nothing -- in any of their lives had ever been the same.

"I love Jason," Robin said, brokenly. Tears escaped her eyes and she let moaned in frustration. "And I understand him. I never should have asked him to..."

"Robin, sweetie --"

The tears were streaming freely now. "He was so angry, Felicia! She made him so angry and she hurt him so much. She was going to take Michael away anyway, and it just seemed like... We needed her out of our life! All she did was hurt him and threaten him. If she wasn't going on about AJ, she was talking about picking up and leaving all together. He was going to lose the baby and... God, it made sense then! To both of us. Was he supposed to hang around and let her manipulate him? Was he supposed to let her break him and do everything she wanted? He had two choices. Leave me and marry Carly to stop AJ... Or cut all ties."

Robin swallowed painfully. Her head was starting to throb. "He's never going to forgive himself for letting her... " Robin put a hand to her forehead. She'd thought Jason had made the decision he had about Michael out of despair and helplessness. Now she knew the truth. It was anger and injury. That was what propelled him. He'd even said to her -- he wasn't going to let Carly do this to him again. He wasn't going to bail her out to have her shove the knife in his back. That if AJ wanted her -- if she was determined to have Michael raised a Quartermaine -- then he wasn't going to stand in her way. He was done.

That was what he said. And she'd wanted to believe him. But the longer things went on, the colder Jason got. She suspected that he tried to do something in the final countdown -- that in the end, he'd sought to pull Carly out of the fire. But if he had, it had been too late. Carly lost.

They'd been having dinner at the Grille. First real date in months. Jason had been distracted and somber. When Carly walked in he'd lifted his eyes and the flash of agony that had gone through them was never given voice. Carly had attacked him -- launched herself at him, grabbing a knife from the table and screaming. Trying to rip him apart. Robin had never, ever seen anyone manifest that kind of fury before. All the anguish she'd witnessed in her lifetime, and the wild, unhinged look in Carly's eyes as she scratched and clawed at Jason... That was still with her. But not the way it was with Jason. It haunted him in ways Robin wasn't sure she even truly knew.

There were days when she wondered. Wondered if she was Jason's safe choice. If what he really wanted was something he was too afraid to risk. If he felt tenderness, passion... Love for Carly. She knew her husband loved her. But in her darkest moments, she honestly believed he was in love with both of them. Some part of him that she couldn't touch was bound to Carly. For life.

Robin shook herself. No. This was over. She and Jason had made commitments. They'd moved past this. The only thing that Robin could imagine would make the bond fade was the baby she and Jason were preparing for now. That was going to fix this. And maybe... It was possible... To have a life that Carly wasn't part of.

"I don't know why he doesn't blame me," Robin said emptily, staring out the window across the room. "I told him I wouldn't stick around to watch her hurt him again just because she was angry. Just because she wants something from him he can't give her. I made him choose."

"The choice was his."

She nodded, eyes still fixed on the horizon. "I've tried to accept it. That he needs to do this. I've tried to make an effort."

"She's married to another man now, Robin," Felicia approached her and took her by her shoulders. Robin blinked, then let her eyes find her aunt's. "She has someone else to take care of her. And in the end? Jason chose you."

Robin closed her eyes. There was truth in that. As much as it hurt, as much as it made her want to scream. There was some truth in it.

Nikolas leaned against the door jamb -- already dressed, save his tie and jacket -- and watched his wife at the dressing table. It was amazing how quickly their room had started to look like their room. Only place in the house that looked lived in right now. Downstairs there were still boxes in the dining room, and very little else. But their room -- it smelled faintly of Carly's perfume and moisturizer. Her cosmetics -- incomprehensible numbers of cosmetics and other... he didn't know what to call them. Mystery jars with creams and oils and god-knows-what in them. They were already lined up on the surface of the table where Carly now sat, brushing out her hair. Her clothes were hanging in the wardrobe nearest her dresser. Discarded items were laid out on the barely-made bed. His own clothes, and paraphernalia -- while not so one display -- were tucked into drawers and wardrobes too. In this one place, everything had fallen where it was supposed to. And this little thing made him incomprehensibly happy.

"What are you doing?" Carly 's eyes stared at him in the mirror. She sat, legs crossed and dressed only in a slip, with the brush poised to run though her hair again.

"I'm not doing anything," Nikolas answered smoothly.

"You're looking at me the same way that Lucas stares at the caterpillars he collects and stuffs into mason jar."

"I'm thinking."

Carly turned on her stool and looked at him directly. "About?"

"What you're doing."

She looked down at the brush in her hand, than back up at him. "My hair. I'm doing my hair."

"All right."

"You've never seen someone do their hair before?"

"Someone? Yes."

Carly frowned and put the brush down on the table. "You're strange."

"You're only now figuring that out?"

"You keep developing new depths of strangeness." She picked up a bottle of perfume off the table, and studied the label. "And you're making me nervous."

"I don't believe that," Nikolas pushed himself off the wall and crossed the room to her. "You were nervous long before this."

He came to stand behind her, putting his hands on her bare shoulders. Resting them, lightly. Carly looked up into the mirror, and paused, taking in the image of the two of them. She looked harried and anxious. He looked... Well. She had already established a fondness for Nikolas in formal wear. Particularly half out of it.

"I don't like people," she confessed to her reflection, as much as him. "The ball is a lot of people all at once."

Nikolas brushed his thumbs across the base of her neck. "Thank you for doing this."

Carly blinked. "Thank you?"

"I wouldn't want to go alone." She met his eyes in the mirror, and he gave a half smile. "I don't mind people, but I hate parties."

"Amen," she breathed. She forced her attention back to the task at hand. Right. Nails done, hair... well, hair as good as it's going to get. Make up done... Perfume. She turned the bottle in her hand, then uncapped it. While Nikolas watched on, she applied it to the inside of her wrist. She rubbed both against each other, then placed the stopped on the bottle, turned it again, and was about to continue the ritual when Nikolas's hand grabbed her wrist. He leaned over her, and brought her hand up to his face, inhaling deeply. The fragrance that met him was exactly what he'd hoped it would be.

"That's the perfume you wore to the wedding."

Carly stared at him. "You remember that?"

"Believe me," Nikolas's voice sank deep into his chest. "That is a scent I'm going to remember for the rest of my life."

Occasionally -- more than occasionally -- Nikolas would say something that just stopped Carly's heart. She'd have to wait until she heard it beating again to convince herself that she wasn't imagining this. She just wasn't used to this kind of attention. Nikolas, meanwhile, had taken the bottle from her hands, and was looking at it inquisitively.

"Why do you put it on the inside of your wrists?"

Carly frowned. "Because that's where you put it."

Nikolas nodded. "I'm aware of this. What I'm wondering is -- why?"

"What is this?" Carly laughed. "You're acting like you've never watched a woman..." She stopped short as she realized the truth of this. Nikolas didn't have an ex-girlfriend he'd waited around for. He didn't have a mother who wandered through the house, putting on earrings and fixing her eye liner in the car's rearview mirror. The look made sense now. That sort of distant fascination. He'd never experienced this part of being with a woman. She'd dressed in front of him -- but it was always the act of pulling on a pair of jeans -- throwing on a shirt. Even the night they'd gone out with their parents -- she'd dressed in the tiny space of the head, rushing to pull herself into something resembling respectable. This was the first time he'd ever witnessed the full production. Carly felt the blood in her body rush through her in some sort of victory lap. God, it was ridiculous, but she enjoyed being the first person to expose him to all of this.

"Pulse points," Carly blurted out. Nikolas raised his brow.

"All right..."

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

He registered no reaction. "I'm assuming you're talking about places on your body where you can feel your pulse."

"They're hot points. They produce heat. You put the perfume on them, then it..." Carly stopped short of her explanation, frowning at herself. "I nearly flunked grade eleven chemistry. But this, I can explain in finite detail."

Nikolas, still holding her bottle of perfume in his hand, flipped it upside down, mimicking her earlier action. He looked at her with a hint of mischief.

"Where are they?"

Carly felt a slow smile creeping over her features. "Nikolas..."

"I'm learning," he said, innocently. "You never know when I might have to know this."

"Oh, this is an educational enterprise, then."

He grinned. "Pure research."

Carly made a big deal of giving in, rolling her eyes, and turning on the stool, her back to him. "Ok. Come here."

"I am here."

"Come around here."

Nikolas obeyed, willingly. When Carly gestured for him to kneel in front of her, he hesitated, narrowing his eyes. She laughed, and he lowered himself to the floor in front of her, on bended knee. Carly thrust out both her arms, wrists turned upward. Nikolas, taking his cue gladly, took one in his hand. He ran his thumbs lightly across the soft skin.

"Wrists," Carly informed him, like she was introducing him to this particularly favored part of her anatomy.

"Wrists I know about," he murmured, his eyes traveling along the white skin on the inside of her arm. "I've kept careful track of where I can feel your heart beat."

She blushed. She both hated and loved that he could do that to her. "No flirting, Cassadine."

"Your neck," he ignored her warning completely and dropped her wrist. Reacting up, his fingers trailed seductively along the side of her throat. "Right here."

Carly sighed. "This is payback for the shaving thing, isn't it?"

His hand continued it's journey down her neck, across long her collarbone, and down her chest, just above the swell of her breasts. He stopped, his hand resting on the bare skin. "Here."

"That's my heart."

"I can still feel your pulse."

Carly took a deep breath. God, it was tempting to blow this whole thing off. She would be more than willing to spend the rest of the evening allowing Nikolas to search her body for heart beats. Granted, the longer this went on, the less difficult the find-the-pulse game got.

Nikolas withdrew his hand from his wife's chest reluctantly, and turned his attention back to the bottle. "Did I get any of them?"

Carly gazed at him a moment, before shaking herself. "What?"

"Wrist, neck, heart --"

"Oh," She straightened up in her chair. "Neck. Here." She turned her head, exposing her neck to him and pointing out a spot just behind her jaw bone. Nikolas opened the bottle, and leaned forward, lightly running the stopper across her skin. Carly closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, then took a deep breath, and turned her head to the other side.

He pulled back, leaning back on his heels, and took in the look on Carly's face. She was looking at him with barely muted desire. There was more to it, though. There was a soft, yielding manner about her. Something he loved uncovering. Every time he saw her like this -- open and gentle -- he felt like he had accomplished something. That he was getting to see a side of her hardly anyone was aware of. That, more than anything else about her, drew him to her. He kept his eyes on her as he placed the stopper on the bottle again, and flipped it over.

Carly wished her breathing wasn't so obviously affected as Nikolas leaned forward and, unbidden, rolled the stopper across her cleavage. He glanced up at her, and his expression was so smug, she burst out laughing. She turned her face away.

"You're good, Ok? I give you that. You're very good."

He smirked at her, clearly pleased with himself. "Is that it?"

"No..." she leaned forward, and kicked her leg up, sliding it over his shoulder. "The back of my knee."

Nikolas groaned, and dropped his head to rest against her thigh.

"That's really not fair."

"You started this."

He lifted his head and looked up at her hopefully. "How possible is it --"

"No!" Carly's eyes widened. "Uh uh. This is a look-don't-touch day. This whole thing has to last until the chorus line."

Nikolas drew in a deep breath. The term self-restraint was taking on new meaning since he'd met this woman. He turned the bottle in his hand again and leaned back, pulling her leg back over his shoulder and gripping it by the ankle. He concentrated on her legs, not letting himself look elsewhere, and carefully applied the scent to the back of each knee. Following that, he ran a hand up her calf and caught her eyes, smiling down at him.

"We leave right after the Chorus Line," he promised. Carly's face split into a grin.

"I like this whole commanding vibe you get sometimes, you know that?"

"Really?" Nikolas looked skeptical. "Because I've found you have this tendency to do the complete opposite of what I ask you to."

Carly made a face. "You're not alone on that." She stood up, tugging on the hem of her slip to straighten it. Nikolas, about even with her stomach, breathed carefully as she moved past him.

"This is going to be a really long night," he muttered, twisting around to continue watching her.

"You think?" Carly moved over to the bed, and looked down at the garment bag. Nikolas stretched out on the floor, supporting himself on his elbow and watching her as she removed the dress from it's wrappings. She held it out, her body blocking his view, and studied it for a long time. Then, with a heavy world-on-her shoulders sigh, she turned and held it up against her body in front of the full-length mirror.

She'd gone into Wyndam's on Tuesday looking for something that smacked of respectability, and she'd come out with this. You say the word 'respectability' to people, they take you for a nun-wannabe. So she'd compromised. Allowed herself to actually look at what they had -- to put some of herself into the experience. It had been a long time since she'd been shopping, and she hadn't lost her touch. Less than an hour she had the dress, purse and shoes -- and now...

Well, now she just hoped Nikolas wouldn't be humiliated by it.

She barely looked at him as she slipped into the dress. She fussed with it, tried to make it lie against her in the most becoming fashion. Nikolas watched passively, watched the way her own hands moved over her body, the way her shoulders hunched protectively under the thick straps of the gown. She was scared -- a whole new kind of apprehensive. Like she was convinced she was dressing for disaster. Nikolas started from his place on the floor. He'd been watching the light moving across the dress -- the way the colors changed and mutated as light reflected off beadwork. She was so deeply involved in trying to arrange the dress around her that she let out a sharp gasp when she felt Nikolas's hand on her hip, pulling her back to him. He gripped the zipper on the back of the dress firmly, and started to pull the dress up around her. Carly let her shoulders drop and sucked in her breath while the material came to hold her, hug her body like it was made to hold her. When she looked up again, she had to admit the sight caught her a little off guard.

The dress fell beautifully -- the material was light weighed down only by the iridescent. The color faded from a deep indigo at the deep V-neck into an ice blue at her ankles. She stood, shoeless in the dress, with her husband behind her, and she had to admit... She looked good. The dress showed off her best attributes, hugging every curve, ever so slightly more than hinting at cleavage. She felt her confidence returning, and started to make small adjustments -- tucking the straps of the slip under the straps of the dress, smoothing the material over her hips. It had been a long time since she'd seen this woman in the mirror. But staring at her reflection, she still didn't see anyone who should have the word "Cassadine" attached to them. She looked like Carly. And it was nice to see her, but it wasn't what she'd meant to end up with. She quickly checked her husband's expression. Nikolas was staring at her with barely concealed awe. She turned back and gave him a weak smile.

"You approve?"

Nikolas shook his head, gazing at her in the mirror. "You're breathtaking."

"I don't want to look breathtaking," she tugged a little at the skirt. "I want to look... right."

Nikolas tore his eyes from her reflection, and looked down at her. "Right for what?"

"I don't know, right. Not embarrassing."

Nikolas laughed, disbelieving. "Embarrassing to whom, exactly?"

Carly just shrugged, and fixed her hair around her shoulders.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Nikolas said, tightening his grip on her.

"Get what?"

He lowered his lips to her ear. "I count getting you to marry me among the primary achievements of my life."

Carly froze. She turned and looked at him directly, took in the look in his eyes. She let out a sharp and sudden laugh. "Again," she spoke in a heightened voice. "I vote that you're strange."

"And you're being unnecessarily nervous," he combed her hair back from her neck, and pressed his warm lips against the skin exposed there. Carly closed her eyes, a shiver running through her.

"Nikolas..." she warned.

"You look perfect," he whispered against her ear. He meant it. He couldn't even begin to describe what he was feeling, looking at her. She was beautiful and amazing and his. If he was going to be able have her beside him tonight, everything else would be tolerable. And complete torture. He just wasn't getting out of this room without being able to kiss her, at least once. He slid his hand up her body and brought it to cup her chin. She bent her neck back, eyes closing, as Nikolas brought his mouth to hers.

He kissed her parted lips lightly and adoringly. It felt like kissing reality and fantasy in the same moment. He strained to let it stay there. To just allow himself to touch a little of her, feel a little of the heat and softness and passion he loved about her. When he pulled back, they looked at each other a long moment. Warm eyes that were only growing less wary of each other. Finally, Carly drew in her breath.

"Lipstick."

"No one will notice," he murmured, drawing his head back from hers. "And if they do?" He wrapped both arms around her waist and hugged her body against him. They both looked at the couple reflected back at them in the mirror. They looked comfortable, affectionate. Undeniably together. Carly found herself smiling, unsteadily.

"Let them stare."