Chapter Fourty-Three:
Four Hours

They had sat in the jag at the gates of the mansion in silence for almost five minutes before Carly leaned over and grabbed Nikolas's wrist.

"Ten to," he answered, automatically, before she'd even twisted his watch so that she could see it. She nodded, and dropped back into her seat, staring out the window. It was a fine line, when to arrive at the mansion. She got four hours with Michael and it was almost military in how it was timed. He was marched in at two, and reclaimed under guard at six, usually in desperate need of his supper.

They were the best and worst hours of her week. Through the whole thing she regularly fought not to fall to pieces. She ignored the constricting feeling in her chest, smiled through the heart palpitations, blinked back any insistent tears. The crash afterwards was usually instantaneous. She'd leave and just feel all the strength in her body drain into the ground beneath her. The silence after the door closed, shutting her son away, would enter her body and sit in the pit of her stomach for hours afterwards. Last week... Hadn't been like that. Last week she'd had something to pull her mind away from how impossible everything felt.

Hope. She still had that, right? Nikolas and his promises. The empty room across from their bedroom. The insistence that Cassadines could solve any problem. Everything was going to be just fine.

Jason and Robin would have a baby before she had her son again. Jason and Robin might have their baby before Carly even saw her son again.

She gulped in a mouthful of air and turned her face towards the window again. She stared at the golf-course green of the lawn, the black iron fence determinedly. No time for this now. Next week, next month, next year -- did it matter? Jason and Robin had their life, she had hers and so what, if they were going to have a baby. If they were going to have pictures on the mantel and toys on the floor and sleepers in the wash. And Jason would read travel books again, and look out the window of the penthouse and talk to another child that he shared with a woman he loved this time and oh GOD someone make it stop --

She felt Nikolas's hand touch the back of hers, and without taking her eyes from the now-blurry sight of the lawn, her hand closed around his and held it like was her only lifeline. Take a breath. Good, Ok. Good. Take another one.

"I'm going to get to be his mother again, right?" She blurted the words out on air that had lived inside her for too long.

"You're already his mother."

Carly shook her head. "This isn't good enough."

She heard him shift, leaning across the well between the seats and pressing his face against her hair. When he spoke, his voice was next to her ear.

"You're going to get to be his mother again."

Carly pressed her lips together and nodded. She gripped his hand tighter. She was probably squeezing it hard enough to break bones, but he didn't make a sound.

"I have to go in," her voice was raw. He let out a sigh, exhaling along her neck, then she felt his nod.

"I'll walk you up."

She released his hand and let him free to get out of the car. It had taken a week's worth of training, but she didn't move until he appeared at her window and pulled the door open for her. His hand was out and she took it, but she didn't look directly at him. Let him stay disjointed parts of Nikolas. An arm, a hand, a voice. The whole picture was impossible to look at.

She couldn't look directly at him because she hated the look he had in his eyes right now. It had been there when he'd waken up -- she'd expected it, had tried not to look for it -- but it was impossible to miss. He was looking at her differently. And how could he not? After last night? After she'd sunk so far into herself that she was barely capable of stringing a whole thought together? She'd let him carry her to their bed. Take off her shoes like she was a child. And she'd wanted that -- to be relieved of all duties of life. Waking up that morning, though, she'd wanted to scream in horror.

She couldn't do this anymore. When she'd sobbed in his arms the night he'd asked her to marry him, she'd known; in marrying him, she gave up the right to do this. Because once or twice, it's touching. Maybe it's even novel. But no one wants a lunatic for a wife. And if they do, they want something dramatic and fun. Something Angelina Jolie would play in a movie. They don't want someone who falls apart so completely that she can't pull herself out of bed in the morning. Who can let hours and hours push by without even being aware of it. Who stares at walls all day because she just can't see the point in doing anything else.

He looked at her this morning and she swore he knew. He was finally seeing what he'd really gotten himself into. There were no tricks anymore. She couldn't seduce last night out of him. She could scarcely touch him, feel him, without feeling something in her just crack. From her first night with him, Nikolas had inspired something in her beyond the basic need for contact. It had always felt dangerous. Right now, it felt deadly. She was letting herself lean on him and she couldn't do that right now. If he'd thought he'd seen where this was going... if he thought he was seeing even a fraction of what this could turn into...

Oh baby. It gets so much worse than this.

"You're sure this is the way you want to do this."

They were halfway up the walk and Nikolas was repeating something he'd been saying since Carly had told him her intentions for the afternoon. Apparently, he wasn't a fan of the game plan and he was doing a terrible job of keeping that opinion to himself. She nodded, fixing her eyes on the door at the end of drive.

"I want to explain everything to Michael."

His hand tightened around hers, reflexively. He was being determinedly close today. Like every move she made was a possible precursor to disaster. Like she was a burden he was persuaded he was about to drop.

"I could help you with that," his voice contained a hint of frustration. She could feel him swallowing his desire to fight her on almost everything she said.

"It'll be fine," she stopped, turning towards him, but fixing her eyes on his upper arm. "We can do it just like last week. That worked." He shifted his weight, but said nothing. "It wasn't a disaster."

"I could wait in another room --"

She stopped, as they approached the door. "The Quartermaines would be all over you."

"The Quartermaines should know better than to antagonize me right now."

Carly let out a quick breathy laugh, and turned away from him. Oh God. Oh, God, she wanted to see that. It was beyond tempting -- it almost felt necessary -- to just hand over her problems in a big box with a red bow and say 'Ok. Here. Clearly I can't handle these, you give it a shot.' But she'd done that before and it had ended badly. It wasn't a place she wanted to go with Nikolas.

She felt his hand on her elbow. "What about your mother?"

Carly lifted her head sharply and caught his eyes for a millisecond before looking away.

"I don't want to see my mother."

"I just --" he stopped, taking in a careful breath before continuing in a lower voice. "I don't like this," he murmured to her. She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. She wished he'd just drop it -- it had been an incredibly long time since anyone had fought her this hard about something like leaving her alone. It was making her tired, and really, it would be a million times easier to just relent and let him do what he wanted to do. "I'd feel better if someone else was in the house with you. In case something happens."

She shook her head firmly. "I can take care of myself."

Lies. All lies.

"Carly."

"I need to do this my way," she raised her eyes to his, forcing herself to remain planted to the spot she was standing. "He's my son, Nikolas."

He looked like he was in physical pain. There was no sign of faith, or trust that she could do this. And hey, why should there be? She was proving, by the second, that he'd made a big mistake. He should look pained. He was just starting to see how badly he'd fucked up his life.

"Call me," he insisted. "If anything happens. If you need anything -- I don't care what, just call me."

She tried to smile, but ended up looking down at the ground again. "You said you'd come back at five."

"I'll come back whenever you want me to."

"Yeah," she said softly. "You will, wont you?"

Nikolas moved forward, his hand holding her upper arm. Carly sighed, and let herself get pulled into an embrace. In front of the steps leading up to the Quartermaine's front door, she let him hold her. His arms were sheltering and protective. They felt like sanctuary. She let her eyes close and willed her mind to just let go of everything else. God, why did everything else have to matter so much? Why couldn't everything in her life be this simple? She lifted her face to his, her eyes already closed, and found his lips with hers.

She drank from him. Held him, her mouth moving desperately against his. In that way that you can kiss someone -- even someone you're in love with -- and have it be solely about needing to feel like you're not alone. Wanting to know that someone -- anyone -- was with you. Nikolas's hands came up and held her face, holding her still as they kissed. As if he knew, already, that she was going to pull herself far away from him.

The kiss broke, leaving her lightly headed. She reached up and grabbed his wrist in her hands, her other arm still around his back. Nikolas's lips brushed over hers repeatedly, grabbing her mouth in quick aborted kisses, before he pressed them firmly against her forehead. She concentrated on bring air in, sending it out again, while feeling the firm and quickened beat of his heart against her.

"I have to go," she said, pulling herself out of the embrace without warning. Nikolas tried to pull her back to him.

"Let me come with you."

"You can't." Carly shook her head hard, backing up from him. If she didn't leave now, she wasn't going to leave at all. She turned away, eyes focusing on the door to the mansion, and ran quickly up the few steps. She hit the doorbell almost urgently and it was opened before the chime had even ceased to ring in the house. Reginald must have been standing right in front of it, waiting, to get there so fast. He nodded at her in that pitying-yet-ironic way of his and she felt her heart lurch.

"Carly."

"Reg," she'd meant to spit out the whole name, but it broke apart in her mouth. Reginald pulled the door wide, and Carly took a step towards the threshold, before turning on her heel to look back at her husband.

He was standing where she's left him, watching her with an expression she couldn't name apart from saying that he was, clearly, not enjoying this.

Don't let him go. Don't do it. He wants to stay with you, for God's sake, let him.

She forced a smile, probably the least convincing of her life, and turned without waiting to see Nikolas's reaction. She walked past Reginald, into the house, and only stopped her quick stride when the door closed behind her, shutting Nikolas firmly away.

Outside, Nikolas stared at the closed door for a long moment. He stood, stuck to the spot, and tried to will himself to walk away. That's what she wanted, after all. That's what he'd agreed to do. Just walk away.

Walk where? There was too much inside of him and not enough at the same time. The feeling of impotence was choking him. He had three hours in which he had to make sure he didn't do anything... detrimental. Three hours in which he hardly trusted himself to move, lest he get pulled into a rash decision. Pulling out his cell phone he turned it on and dialed a number without even looking at the phone. It wasn't until her heard the digital sound of ringing that he put it to his ear -- just in time for the other party to pick it up.

"I need to see you. Now."

Bobbie looked at the clock on her kitchen wall. She had her car keys in her hand and her purse was sitting on the kitchen counter. Fifteen minutes. Not even that. She could be there in fifteen minutes.

Bobbie had called Nikolas's cell phone every fifteen minutes from seven AM on. It was off. She had ended up calling Stefan twice in frustration and boy had he been accommodating. Smooth rich voice soothing her over phone lines. She's fine. Nikolas has it in hand. He's very attentive. He's very concerned. She's being well cared for.

Well cared for? She wasn't a bloody hamster! She hadn't taken a nasty spill! Her ex-boyfriend's wife had twisted the knife in her heart with the precision of a Sorbonne Chef -- how do you take care of that?

God knows, Bobbie thought the world of Nikolas -- but he was young. He wasn't experienced with this sort of thing. And... Well, to be honest? Carly tended to eat the people around her alive when something in her life went wrong. Bobbie had taken the brunt of her daughter's anger, frustration, hopelessness. She had a pretty thick skin. Nikolas... didn't.

And Damnit, postulations aside -- Bobbie stubbornly wouldn't let go of the idea that she was the only person who really knew how to comfort Carly over something like this. Who could roll with the punches, who knew when to pull back, and when to push. She had experience with this. She knew how to take care of her.

No one else did.

Bobbie threw her keys back down on the counter top and swore violently under her breath as she started to pace the kitchen again. God, how had she let this happen? She'd struggled with this all week -- trying to work out just how to pull it off. And it had made SENSE, damnit. Get past this week -- let Nikolas and Carly get settled. Let things get just a little more normal before she hit them with that news. She'd planned to talk to Nikolas first. To make sure he understood what this was going to mean. And then... Then, she's find some way to tell Carly.

Well, Little Robin had blown that plan out of the water. And now... Now Bobbie had been rendered utterly ineffectual. There was just nothing she could do. She couldn't comfort her daughter this time because, in Carly's eyes, she was party to the betrayal. Most probably in Nikolas's eyes as well. This time, Carly was going to spiral and Bobbie was going to be shut out. It was absolute torture. To have Carly out of the house, isolated on the island, without anyone who was really going to understand what was about to happen...

Bobbie slumped down into one of the chairs at her kitchen table and stared at the wall in front of her. There was nothing she could do. Sure, she could go to the mansion -- so that Carly could push her away. So that she could utterly unhinge the girl on the one day she needed to be nailed down. She could storm Spoon Island and demand that she be allowed to try her hand at fixing the damage that had been done last night. And all of this would only serve to alienate her daughter further.

Nope. No two ways about it. She was utterly screwed. The only thing she could do right now was wait for them to come to her. And hope to god, when that happened, that she'd be able to help.

The living room was empty. She must be early again. Historically, Carly wouldn't step through the front door until minutes before two -- would meet Chris there and then wait for Michael to be brought in. Usually, she tried to put this bit off for as long as humanly possible. Today, however, she was falling victim to paradox. It was hard to leave Nikolas. It was hard to stay with him, too. Right now, it didn't feel like there was any place she could really be. The best she could do was hold herself together and hope that some sort of higher power would just take over her body when Michael got there.

Carly rubbed her arms self-consciously, as she looked around the room. Mantle, doors, love seat -- this place just never changed -- desk, side table... Huh. Curious lack of drink stand... But Ok. Familiar surroundings. She'd been here a million and one times. She'd gotten through this nightmare before. She could do it again.

Yep. No problems here.

The door behind her closed with a quiet click, and Carly jumped about a foot. Spinning around, she saw Edward Quartermaine standing in front of the door, both hands behind his back, holding the handles to open the double doors that lead to the foyer.

"Carly," he beamed, if that's what you called it. Sort of like you'd imagine the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood would beam. "A little early, I see."

"Could you open the door?" she said, with an uncharacteristic lack of intonation.

"I'd like to have a word with you."

Every muscle in her body was rigid. Oh, I'm sure you would, you old goat. She thought the words. She wanted to say them. But somehow she wasn't moving.

"You dropped quite the bombshell on your last visit."

Carly's head snapped around quickly and she located the clock on the mantle. It was two o'clock. On the nose.

"I want to see my son," she said as steadily as she could manage, turning back to him. Edward's smile faded, then propped itself up again.

"I'm afraid we can't allow that until the social worker gets here."

Carly nodded, not taking her eyes from him. Social worker. Excellent point, that. Now where the hell was the social worker?

"What's going on?"

"Michael's fine," Edward started across the room towards her. "There's no reason to be so anxious, my dear."

"Yeah, that's not --"

Carly's words were cut off by the sound of the handle on the door being jiggled. She stared at it, in dawning horror, as the door was shaken from the outside, and a fist pounded on it.

"Edward?" Monica called from outside. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Listen," Edward moved a little more quickly towards her, his voice lowered. "We don't have much time."

Carly looked at him incredulously. "What?"

"Now, I've always felt we shared an understanding," he spoke hastily as the door was shaken again. "You and I --"

"FATHER!" the voice of Alan joined his wife. "Father, open this door!"

"We don't have an understanding!" Carly shot back. "What are you talking about?"

"Grandfather?" -- AJ, this time.

"I'm sure we can come to an understanding if we're given a moment to talk!"

The pounding on the door was ferocious now. Carly looked from the door to the old man and back. Oh, enough of this. She started across the room towards the doors. Edward dodged in front of her, blocking her path. "There are a great many things we could discuss."

"If I wanted to talk to you, I'd have tracked you down by now," Carly growled. "Now get out of my WAY!"

"Surely there's something I can offer you --"

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" Carly screeched, pushing him away with both hands. This time, the man gave way and she darted past him towards the doors. She grabbed the door handles and looked for the lock frantically, while someone on the other side tried to pull the door towards them. Her eyes fell on the key hole just below the right door. She spun around to face him. "Where's the key?"

"Reginald!" Alan shouted outside. "Call a locksmith!"

"Where's the KEY?" she started after Edward again, and he backed up, chuckling while holding his hands protectively in front of him.

"My dear, don't be alarmed --"

"I get four hours a week with Michael," Carly picked up a vase from the desktop as she passed it. "If you get in the way of that it'll be the last thing you ever do!"

"Watch your step, Miss Benson," Edward continued to back up, eying the vase in Carly's hand cautiously. "The wall's have ears."

"Yeah? Well, let's record this for prosperity, then! Because I'm pretty sure this is against some kind of law!"

"This is my house!" Edward barked. "I'll do what I damn well please!"

"It's MY house!" Monica's voice responded from behind the closed door. "Open the door, Edward!"

"I..." Alan started to say something, but was cut off my a frustrated scream from his wife.

"I want you to understand something," Edward was saying. "I know you've had a change of fortunes recently. And I want you to understand that, as far as my family is concerned, nothing has changed."

Carly shook her head determinedly, trying to stop his words. "You're scared." She breathed in the words, let them lead her. "You're scared and you're going to regret this."

"Oh, don't you threaten me!" Edward growled. "You've lost your rights to that boy! You'd do well to listen to me so that you at least get something out of this!"

"Grandfather!" AJ was at the door now. "I'm giving you thirty seconds."

"Bah!" Edward swatted a hand towards his grandson's voice. "You listen to me, missy. You've caused this family a lot of trouble over the years and I'm not having it again! Now, you just tell me what you want to make this go away!"

Carly felt a hysterical laugh start to bubble up inside of her. Well, Nikolas baby, you were right! This was a bad idea. God, how likely was it that he was still in the drive? If she screamed, would he hear her?

"You only have one thing I want," she choked. "Give me my son, you'll never hear from me again!"

"Be careful who you choose for your friends," Edward leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers. "Don't be a fool."

Something in the way he said it -- in the malice and conviction of his tone -- shot right through her. She could feel his belief in the words. There was an underlying threat to them. One she could feel even if he wasn't giving it voice. The implication was there.

"I don't need anything from you," her voice shook. "You know I don't need anything from you!"

"You've allied yourself with Cassadines," Edward looked almost pitying. "You'll eat those words, I promise you."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Carly held on to the idea tightly. "You don't know anything about it!"

"If you think for one moment that the likes of Nikolas Cassadine can scare us into giving up our claim to Michael, then you're suffering from delusions of their grandeur!" Edward blustered. "That family destroys everything it touches, and I will not allow them to ever get their hands on my great-grandson!"

The vase hit the opposite wall with incredible force, shattering into a million pieces before Carly was even aware that she'd thrown it. The noise outside the door was immediately silenced and Carly turned on Edward, speaking on jagged breath. "This isn't about the Cassadines, you wacked out old man!" Her whole body felt incredibly hot -- she was dizzy, almost -- and anger was the only safety net she had. "This is about MY son and I swear to God, if he isn't in here with me in ten seconds I'm going scream so loud they'll hear me in the next county!"

"You can't take care of that boy!" He spoke like it was gospel fact that Carly had somehow forgotten. "You've proven that over and over again. We will never let him near you again without someone else to watch him -- not if I have one single thing to say about it! Let him go off with you to get kidnapped again? To nearly get blow up when that ne'er-do-well grandson of mine comes to visit? AJ is a good father to that boy and he is going to be brought up the way a Quartermaine should be."

Carly clenched her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm afraid of!"

Edward's hand reached out and snatched her wrist. He stood close to her, his voice lowered dangerously. "You watch your step, young lady. You just watch your step. When the Cassadines are done with you -- if you're still breathing -- there won't be anywhere else for you to hide. And you can bet if you give us half a reason, we'll have you shut back up in Ferncliffe where you belong!"

The threat had it's desired effect, and Carly pulled back from him, reeling. "Get the hell off of me!" she shrieked. "You get your filthy hands off of me!"

The doors were suddenly thrown open with enough force to send them both slamming into the walls -- once bouncing back, the other one hanging pathetically on one hinge. The doorway framed a very angry, very perturbed looking AJ Quartermaine. My hero, Carly thought hysterically, before turning away from door, rubbing her wrist with her hand.

"AJ!" Edward tossed his arms out. "I've just been having a little chat with --"

Quartermaines spilled into the room, yelling -- complaining -- generally making noise. Carly held her wrist, staring down at the carpet and trying to find her breath again.

"Grandfather, I though I told you --" AJ stopped, nodding his head like he was just recalling the details. "NO. I know I told you. Grandmother, Mom and Dad -- Emily -- all told you, you're not doing this."

"Don't you start on that again, you know what side your bread is buttered on!"

"I told you I'd handle it!"

"How? Just how do you think you're going to do that?"

"Really, Edward --" Monica started in and the chaos erupted again. Carly held herself protectively, feeling like her skin was paper-thin. Like every word they said sunk right into her and made itself truth. She was shaking! She couldn't seem to stop shaking. She tightened her grip on herself, half convinced that if she didn't hold on, she was going to fly apart.

"If you people want a war, I can give you one," the words came out in a shout, interrupting the melee. She felt them turn towards her. "You know I can. And if you think bullying me is the way to get yourselves out of this mess, then you haven't been paying very close attention."

"We are not putting Michael through another custody battle!"

Carly let out a sharp laugh and pivoted to face them.

"Dad --" AJ was starting, but she cut him off.

"That's because you know you'll lose this one!" She looked back and forth between the four of them, wildly. "All of you! You think you got justice because of what Jason and I did -- Well this isn't about what you think is fair! This is about my son and I will destroy every last one of you if I have to, just to get him out of this house."

There was a moment's stunned silence as the four adults stared at her -- and then everyone was talking again. Edward bellowing and shaking his finger -- Monica starting towards her, looking like she was going to smack her -- it hardly started when AJ stepped forward, pushing his mother back and calling for everyone to just shut up.

"I came to see my son. I want to see him NOW."

"Carly," AJ's stepped forward and Carly jerked away from him.

"Get away from me!"

AJ looked, for a millisecond, startled. She was probably supposed to be impressed with his epic bravery. Like a princess falling on the feet of a knight who'd just slew a dragon he'd set on her in the first place. She waited for him to move away -- to turn his back and storm out of the room -- but he didn't. He stayed just where he was.

"Can you all leave us alone?" he said this without looking back at his family. Not one of them moved, or even let on that they'd heard him. "Fine," AJ reached out and grabbed her arm. "Let's go"

Carly brushed his hand off her like it burned her skin. "No."

"Carly."

She turned, desperate for an exit, and her eyes seized on the French Doors. She started across the room, grabbing the handles to the doors and throwing them open -- escaping, pulling the air into her lungs and making it, somehow, to the wall that lined the edge of the patio. She put both hands on it, gripping the stone lip, and hunched her shoulders. She had to pull herself together -- and now. Cell phone! She had one. She scrambled for her bag and started to dig through it looking for the phone when she heard the doors close behind her again. She spun on her heel to see AJ standing in front of the doors, hands in his pockets and an unamused expression on his face.

"I didn't lock them. You can check."

"Your grandfather," Carly spit, "Is a psychopath!"

"Pot, kettle."

Carly shook her head and kept digging through the small pack purse she was carrying. She saw the phone now, but she didn't pick it up. Just used the bag as a prop, something to do with her hands so that she didn't have to just stand there and look terrified.

"Do you want something AJ?" she stirred the contents of the bag around with her hand.

"I think we should talk."

"Talk to my lawyer."

"And who is that?" AJ asked softly. "Is that Alexis Davis?"

Carly couldn't seem to still herself. She was still shaking -- a tremble growing into a full on quake.+ Who was her lawyer? Her lawyer was a very young, very easily startled, very hard to reach man who worked out of an office near the docks. A man who, she was quite convinced, was absolutely bone terrified of her. Not without cause, either.

"Carly, come on," AJ's voice was deceptively smooth. He hadn't talked to her like this in years. "Can we talk reasonably about this?"

Her hands stilled and she stared into the dark of her purse. "We stopped being reasonable with each other right about the time you took my son away from me."

"Turnabout's fair play."

Carly sat back, heavily, against the wall of the terrace. "You started it."

AJ let out a disbelieving laugh, and paced a few steps, tripping over his words a moment before turning back to look at her with amazed outrage. "HOW do you do that? How do you manage to turn things around so that you're always the victim?"

Carly averted her eyes, letting them fall on wall of the mansion "If you hadn't decided that you were going to take my baby away the minute --"

"If YOU hadn't decided not to tell me I was the father! If you hadn't --" he stopped, breaking off the sentence without warning and looking away. He took a few quick eyes fixed on the flagstones. "I used to think of you as a friend. You know that?"

Carly smiled bitterly. "You were friends with Carly Roberts. You never knew me."

There was a long silence broken by the sound of AJ's shoes moving across the stone. When she looked up he was standing right in front of her. "And who's that? Caroline? Miss Benson?" His eyes were intense and accusing. "Who are you right now? Carly Cassadine? Which one of you married Nikolas?"

He was standing too close and his words were too intimate. She fought against the urge to push him away, instead recoiling a little at his proximity.

"Whoever I am," she hissed, full venom, "I can't stand the sight of you!"

He turned away quickly and put the length of the patio between them, pacing to the other wall and stopping there. Carly crossed her arms while she waited for him to turn back to her. Every now and then, she thought, she still seemed to have the power to hurt him. It was a little thing, but it was all she had. If anyone had any notions that Carly held residual warmth and fondness for AJ, they only had to witness her alone with him for a few moments to see how dead it was. She didn't feel like she was ever going to be able to hurt him enough. And from the look he got in his eyes sometimes, she was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

"Jason's going to adopt," he said finally, not turning around. Carly let out her breath like he'd just punched her full force in the gut. Case in point.

"I heard," she managed.

"Yeah, I guess you did." AJ let out a slow breath. "Nice that he's asking permission this time."

"Jason was a better father to Michael than you'll ever be." She saw his shoulders jerk and couldn't stop herself from twisting the blade. "But then, I guess you're used to coming in second to him, huh?"

"I can handle coming in second to Jason as long as I'm still miles ahead of you." He drew himself up and turned back to her, stone-faced. His voice was even and untouched by emotion. "You know how this goes, Carly. You know the gloves come off. Are you sure you want to do this again?"

Carly turned away, pressing her lips together. She wanted to tell him to stop. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone. But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of having broke her.

"You might have the entire Cassadine family behind you," AJ continued, moving slowly back towards her. "But that doesn't change the facts. You're unstable," he started to count on fingers as he moved. "You're crazy. You're bad for Michael," he was right in front of her now. "If they decided last time that you weren't capable of visiting him without someone else present, what do you think they're going to decide now? After what you did to Jason? After what your life's turned into?"

Carly shook her head firmly, something stubborn inside her refusing to acknowledge how obvious her instability was at the moment. "You don't know anything about my life."

"Oh," He sucked in his breath, "I keep an eye on things. Probably a little closer than most people."

"Yeah?" she fired back. "You sure didn't look like you were prepared for Nikolas and I."

AJ stiffened, then rallied giving a slight shrug. "Maybe I didn't see Nikolas coming specifically. But I figured you'd whore your way into money eventually. Through maybe Jax. Or Jerry -- That's more your style, right? Your mother's castoffs?" Carly's hand flew up without thought and AJ caught her wrist just as it was about to collide with the side of his face. "Ah ah ah..." He pushed her hand away, none-too-gently. "Behave yourself."

"You don't know what you're dealing with," the words sounded desperate and pathetic to her own ears.

"No, I do. I've been through this before," he leaned forward. "And I won. I'm not losing my son again. And if you're suggesting I should watch out for the Cassadines? In recognition of what we once were to each other --" He rocked his hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "Or, hell -- maybe just what you once were to me. I'll give you some advice. Your back is no safer than mine around those people. Ten to one odds, every one of them that isn't sharing your bed is lining up to push you off that island as soon as Nikolas gets bored. So don't count any chickens. Michael isn't going anywhere."

Carly felt her whole body go cold. The heat, the blood rushing through her veins -- all of it just stopped and she stared at him. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Finally, she managed to choke, "Where's Chris?"

"Running late, it looks like."

"What did you do? Lock her in a closet?" She let out a quick laugh that bordered a little too closely to a sob. "Or did you just write her a bigger check than usual?" AJ didn't move. It took every bit of remaining strength in her to pull in another breath and get the next thought out of her. "I want to see my son. I promise you, AJ. If you don't bring him to me right now, I'll --"

"You'll what? Sic your husband on me?" he frowned. "That'll look good to a judge. Cause Cassadines... They aren't known for their violent outbursts. No one gets a little twitchy around that family name, huh?"

Carly swallowed hard. Tears had pooled in her eyes and if she blinked, they'd fall. She refused to blink. She refused to move.

"Bring me my son."

"I'm sure Chris will be here soon." He raked his eyes over her without visible interest. Carly dug her nails into the flesh of her palm, knowing he could read her without any difficulty at all. If it looks like a basket case and if talks like a basket case... He looked up at her and spoke without inflection. "Take a few minutes to pull yourself together."

Lucky Spencer saw Nikolas sitting alone at a booth against the far wall of Eli's before he even pushed open the swinging glass door. His brother's eyes were fixed intently on the table top, and he didn't look up as Lucky crossed the room towards him.

"Oh, Captain, my Captain," Lucky drawled, throwing himself into the booth opposite his brother. "I'm here for the food, in case you're thinking you can make a habit of snapping your fingers and having me come running."

"I'm not pretending I don't consider this a favor," Nikolas stared at the salt shaker he'd been fiddling with since he'd arrived at this dive. "Note the locale."

"As long as you're paying..." Lucky swept his eyes over his brother casually, though he didn't miss a detail. Collared shirt open at the cuffs and neck, shoulders hunched, eyes that refused to make contact. Classic brood stance. He leaned back against the wall and lay his hand on the Formica table top, drumming his fingers lightly. "Just don't think I've ever heard you use that word 'favor' before, no matter what you were asking for."

A small ironic smile appeared on Nikolas's lips. "If I'm not doing this... Then I'm most likely doing something incredibly stupid."

Lucky nodded, moving his gaze towards the freeway off ramp art that hung on the walls. "Threatening the not-so-scrawny neck of Jason Morgan, maybe."

"That," Nikolas put down the salt shaker, "has crossed my mind."

Lucky nodded slowly. "Any other necks on that list?"

Nikolas didn't respond. Didn't look up either. Apparently the topic of Robin was off limits. Big shock. Lucky turned and put his elbows on the table, facing him square on. "So how is she?"

His brother took his time answering. "Hard to tell."

"She didn't know, huh?"

"No," he sat back in his seat. "No, she didn't."

Lucky exhaled. "Brutal."

"Yes," Nikolas roll the word around in his mouth. "Brutal."

Lucky reached over and absently flipped the listings on the wall-mounted jukebox at the table. All this Carly/Jason/Michael garbage had been churning around in his gut since he'd seen Nik last night. It was an angle he hadn't originally considered, but sitting here, watching his brother's strange, detached manner -- talking about his cousin's likely devastation -- It all came together for him. What had really been bugging him about this from the start. Nikolas and Carly were, without a doubt, the two of the most seriously screwed up people in his family tree. The fact that they had hooked up -- something that had initially seemed bizarre -- was beginning to feel inevitable. But he still wasn't sure how he felt about it. Two wrongs generally don't make anything right.

"What does this have to do with me," Lucky asked, his voice distant as his eyes scanned from Hotel California down to Jumpin' Jack Flash.

"I need some information."

And so it starts. "Not the capital of Iceland, I take it."

"No. Little closer to home."

Lucky flopped back in his seat. "I'm listening."

Nikolas raised his eyes, meeting his brother's for the first time, really, since he'd walked in. Lucky felt immediately chilled, taking in the full force of the fatigue that seemed to fill ever aspect of his brother's posture.

"I looking for an oral history."

"Of?"

"Your family," Nikolas said it like he was talking to a complete stranger. "I need to know everything that was going on during Carly's fight for custody."

Carly sat alone on the patio, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and her body bent at the waist. She rested her head on her knees, eyes closed, and tried to remember what she was supposed to do when she felt like this. Coping mechanisms. Gail had talked about them. What had she said? Was it anything even remotely useful?

She just couldn't seem to stop making mistakes. At the moment, she couldn't even allow herself to name what the latest one had been. She just knew this was bad and it was probably her stupid fault. Michael would be here -- God knows when Michael would be here -- but he would. And she'd be a wreck.

She straightened up, pulling air into her lungs and wiped her hands quickly over her cheeks. She felt hot -- still. Her head buzzed -- like she'd been crying, though she'd hardly shed a tear. She'd swallowed all of it, stuffed it all down into her gut, along with the tear-the-heads-off-teddy-bears fury that the Quartermaines had stirred into her. She shook her head, trying to knock the cotton feeling out of it. What the hell time was it? Why didn't she just wear a damn watch? Nikolas wore a watch.

She let her eyes close and tightened her jaw against the lump rising in her throat. God, did she want Nikolas right now. The pit in her stomach felt endless. She felt her whole body just throbbing with need. "Call me if you need me" -- she wanted to throw her head back and scream -- I NEED you. I need you, come back. I was wrong, I can't do this, I need help. I need you.

But she couldn't call him. She knew that even if she couldn't have explained in any concrete terms, why. She had to pull herself together, damnit, and she had to do it alone. Michael couldn't see her like this. Nikolas couldn't see her like this. None of this could happen! She had to stop here if it killed her. And at the moment, there wasn't much doubt; this was killing her.

"Miss Benson?"

Carly looked up, arms still holding her stomach, to see Chris standing in the doorway. Lavender suit today. Plastic smile. One hand holding her briefcase and the other holding the hand of a sullen looking three year old boy.

"Michael," Chris said his name like she was talking a very dumb animal. "Your Mommy's here to see you."

Carly managed a lopsided smile and put reached out her hand to him. "Hey, Mr. Man. Did you come to play?"

Stefan turned the page in the report her was reading and stared at it for a long moment before he dropped it back onto his desk top. Pulling off his reading glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a quick breath.

This was, in all ways, an unpleasant enterprise.

He was unimpressed with how long it had taken for him to get his hands on these records. It was unacceptable that he should wait a full week. Of course, in the meantime, he'd had the records he pulled easily from General Hospital's files. But they afforded no real insight. Gail Baldwin's notes were bland and rudimentary. The most he could glean from going over them was that this was a young woman with a great deal of problems. They'd slapped a pat technical term on it -- labeled it for dissection. However, it took very little digging to discover that the terms hardly covered the entirety of what was wrong with Caroline Benson.

One assertion that Gail Baldwin made repeatedly was that the patient was reluctant to address any problems that weren't directly related to the loss of her son. She would not talk at length about her parents, would not examine her past before Port Charles, and was rather apt at misdirection in session. She could, Gail had also noted, adopt a convincing personae to serve her purposes. If one wasn't working in session -- if things started to dig a little too close the bone -- Caroline would simply switch gears and put on another mask, forcing the therapist to play catch-up.

Putting on masks, it seemed, was a talent of 'Carly's'. She could act capable. She could act willing to work. She could even, if pressed, deliver careful treatises on her own illness. But once you'd been through the many faces she could put on for you, you found that everything lay exactly where it had before. Gail's compassion for the woman underneath all this denial and subterfuge was never-ending. But she admitted that she was uncertain of how to reach her. And while some basic headway had been made, it was her belief that Carly simply did not wish to get better.

Stefan leaned back in his chair, turning it from the desk as he gazed up at the ceiling in thought. This afternoon's readings, also, were only serving to solidify notions he'd already been developing. And now, looking at the files from Shadybrook and Ferncliffe he was seeing what any intelligent man should be able to glean. Text book psychological break. Impressively quick -- not to mention complete -- recovery. A doctor signing her release who clearly felt the woman had more issues to be dealt with, but they'd released her back into the world convinced she was not a danger to herself or others.

Of course, General Hospital has admitted her to it's psychiatric ward almost two years later to reevaluate that claim once again. And they, too, had released her. It seemed clear to him that Caroline Benson had never been any crazier than anyone else in her family. She had simply put on that mask because it served her and she had fooled a team of doctors in several institutions into believing her initially, crazy, and later, sane. The truth, Stefan imagined, lay somewhere in between. But there was no doubt -- no matter what the status of her mental health, that the woman was a master. A smart, cunning manipulator, who could use her skills to get herself out of nearly any jam and had an incredible talent for pulling other people into her schemes.

Stefan pushed the papers away, closing the folder. Nothing in those files had come as much of a shock to him. He was suspicious, as always, that Mrs. Baldwin's compassion for her patient wasn't the product of another manipulation -- perhaps a more cunning one -- though he had seen, ever so briefly, flashes of it himself. And perhaps it was conceit, but Stefan believed firmly that he could spot deception at twenty paces. That childish adage -- takes one to know one. Carly was not, he'd decided, playing a game with his son. He'd seen that for himself. Yesterday morning, for instance. In the limo on the way to the ball, as well -- There was genuine insecurity. A desire to make Nikolas proud of her. It would be, perhaps, endearing, if he was allowing himself to think along those lines.

Unfortunately, the only lines that mattered were the ones that lay between his son and ruin. A manipulative woman, certainly that was something he could handle effortlessly. A manipulative woman driven over the edge repeatedly, victim to her own emotional nature... That was dangerous. The worst kind of dangerous.

Dangerous like his mother.

Stefan picked up his glasses and reached for the papers again. There was no such thing as being too prepared.

Michael let go of Chris's hand the moment Carly's eyes landed on his. But, in contrast to their last visit, he did not smile and run to her. He did not do much of anything, except stand his ground and look at his mother apprehensively.

God, he can tell, Carly thought. He knows I'm a mess and he's scared of me. She swallowed hard and leaned forward.

"Michael?"

He ran then, on short legs, and she dropped from the chair onto her knees to catch him. The little boy leapt up into her arms and Carly crushed him against her chest. She felt her throat tighten painfully as she held him close. Her boy. Her perfect, soft-haired, warm-skinned little boy, with small arms that circled her neck holding tight enough to choke. She lived for this. For so long, her whole life had been about stretching herself from one close moment to the next. As he hugged her, she felt something in her let go -- just snap free and let everything in her pour out. Swirl around with that feeling of unabashed and pure little-boy love. It was a bit of peace in a maelstrom and she just didn't know how to let go of it. I can't do this much longer, she thought, her arms tight around him. I just won't be able to keep this up much longer.

"Mama?" he was pulling back -- almost fighting -- to escape her grasp. She realized this and let go, allowing him to sit back on her lap and look at her. His eyes were wide and full of alarmed confusion as they took her in. He reached out and pressed a hand to her cheek, and that was when Carly realized she was crying. "Are you sad?"

Carly shook her head, but she couldn't seem to make any words come out of her throat. She took several deep breaths before she could speak. Damnit. Oh, God, make me stop...

"I'm happy," she managed, wiping tears from her eyes quickly. "I'm just so happy to see you."

"It's on, Nik."

Nikolas put his cell phone back on the table, having just checked it, by Lucky's count, for the fourth time in the last fifteen minutes. His brother didn't respond to the remark. He wasn't responding to much of anything this afternoon. Lucky's mind reading skills had been exhausted. Apart from the fact that things were obviously a little rocky in Nikolas's world right now -- something any moron could have guessed -- Lucky hadn't been able to divine any real information. And the longer he stalled on the topic of Carly's trial, the more Nikolas seemed to shut down.

"Have you gathered your thoughts yet?"

Witness the edge in his voice. Patience just wasn't a Cassadine virtue, as far as Lucky could tell. He sat back against the vinyl bench seat, fingers gripping the edge of the table.

"Why aren't you asking your wife about this?"

Nikolas's dark eyes were fixed on his. "I've heard Carly's side of the story. I want to hear it from someone who wasn't in the process of losing their child."

He winced. "Pull no punches, huh?" No response. Lucky shifted his weight. "Don't really think I can help you with this one, man."

His brother didn't so much as blink. "Suffer a blow to the head recently?"

He turned his head away, spitting out his breath in a non-laugh. "No, I just don't know anything that you're gonna find useful."

"Let me decide that."

It wasn't to his advantage, particularly, that Nikolas wasn't an idiot. They both knew damn well what was going on here. If it takes someone this long to answer a question, chances are they're trying to figure out how to lie. That wasn't what Lucky was doing, exactly. But he wasn't exactly comfortable with the truth here, either. He let out a groan of acquiescence.

"You'd do better to talk to Bobbie -- I'm saying that up front."

"Why shouldn't I ask you?"

"Because you're not going to like what I have to say," Lucky muttered, staring at the table top. "It involves a lot of stuff where I'm not talking to my parents because of something you said, and my parents aren't talking to each other over something you are."

As expected, there was a long, stony silence from the other side of the table. Finally, Nikolas gave a half-shrug. "You were talking to them, then. I remember."

Lucky picked up his cola off the table and took a quick hit from the glass. "I was talking to Mom. My Dad, I was mainly not crucifying. He found that a step up."

"I just want to hear your side of the story," Nikolas said, his voice low and careful. "I'm not looking for anything else."

Lucky sighed heavily. Here goes nothing.

"Carly was always..." he paused to search for the phrase, "A Bobbie thing. I mean, I found out she was my cousin about ten seconds before..." He let the words die out. That was another topic they didn't need to do much more than brush up against. "I left home before Carly was in any trouble." He stirred the ice in his drink with the straw. "Unless you take into consideration that she is, basically, always in trouble."

"What do you mean by that?"

Lucky glanced up and studied Nikolas

"What I said. Something's always off with her, man."

"You think she's crazy."

"I didn't say that," Lucky frowned at his brother's defensiveness. "Look, I don't really know her that well --"

"Yeah, that's something I'm curious about, Lucky." An unmistakable tension had moved into Nikolas's voice. "Ever since I've been in this place, I've heard about Spencer loyalty and code and procedure. You're insular. You don't like outsiders -- you certainly don't like me --"

"Nik --"

He put up a hand. "Let me finish. Spencers protect their own at all costs. The rest of the world can go to hell -- I was taught that before I came here. It's one thing I've never had a reason to doubt. Until now. Because you didn't protect Carly. Your family let her hang. And I want to know why."

Lucky sat back against the chair, his arms crossed over his chest, fighting an urge to toss his drink in the vicinity of his brother's face.

"What do you want from me?" he bit out. "To say we screwed up? Yeah, we probably did. The Quartermaines got the kid, and Carly got a nice little trip to GH psychiatric," the corners of his mouth twitched. "No one was throwing parties about that. No one was happy. But life goes on."

"Hers didn't," Nikolas threw back.

Lucky took another quick swallow of his drink, wishing suddenly that it was something stronger. His heart was beating in his throat, he felt thoroughly antagonized. Partly because Nikolas was being so cold, but mostly because he was right.

"She's still standing."

Nikolas's head jerked up, his eyes flashing. "How do you know what? Because that's what your father says? How would you know anything about how she is?"

"She's still my family, Nik."

"And you ignore her! Your whole family does. She wasn't here from birth, so now she doesn't count? It's just like it always is -- you're either on the inside, or you're not -- and when you're not, then it doesn't matter WHAT happens to you."

"Christ, Nik --" Lucky choked. "You sure we're really talking about Carly here?"

Nikolas turned away, staring hard at the wall. Lucky noticed his hand was clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. He slumped forward on the table, holding his head up with the heel of his hand swearing under his breath.

"I already know where I stand," Nikolas's voice was tight and dangerous. "What is it about Carly that makes her different then the rest of you?"

"Fine," Lucky growled. "Here it is, man. Uncut and uncensored." He waited until his brother's eyes came back to his. When he spoke, his voice was soft and matter-of-fact. "There's a hierarchy with my Dad. Bobbie's in the upper echelons. Carly tried to annihilate my aunt, and my Dad doesn't really take kindly to that kind of shit -- no matter WHO you are."

"So this was her punishment?"

Lucky shook his head. "The way I remember it, Carly had her mess and we had ours."

Nikolas shut that down. "This was after."

"They didn't exactly bounce back! Dad was gone all winter, and when he was back, things were still pretty bad." Lucky's eyes flitted across his brother's hardened features. "You don't want to hear this."

"I can handle it," he said the words automatically and Lucky didn't believe them. When this topic came up, Nikolas ceased to handle much of anything.

"All right," Lucky spoke slowly, giving ample room for interruption. "Mom was cut up inside because she'd completely screwed things up with you." He waited, but his brother didn't so much as blink. "Enough time had gone by, she knew you weren't going to 'come around'. And she blamed Dad for a lot of that. For not accepting you, for making it so hard for her to get to know you. That whole thing nearly wrecked them. It tore up whatever was left after I moved out -- and that wasn't a whole hell of a lot, you know?" As Lucky spoke, Nikolas bent his head forward, his thumb digging into his temple. Lucky put both hands out, palms facing up. "You asked."

Nikolas shook it off. "So you're saying it was because of me --"

"No," Lucky had known that was coming. "It was because we had problems, and they were big and loud and messy. That's how I got sucked back into the family dynamic. We had to fix ourselves. That's what the priority was. And Carly had Jason, she had Bobbie."

"Carly lost Jason. He abandoned her."

"Yeah," Lucky admitted. "And when that happened... Don't think no one tried to step in. My Dad tried to help. He tried to be involved. But you don't help Carly unless she lets you. Because if she doesn't trust you -- she will just sabotage every move you make." He pushed himself up off the table top, stretching off his spine. "And as far as I can tell, she doesn't trust anybody."

The ball was in Nikolas's court and he let it bounce. Lucky watched, waiting for some kind of response, but all he got was a glimmer of misery hovering under his brother's surface hostility. To be honest, he was feeling pretty stirred up now, himself. Nothing like digging through the past on a Saturday afternoon. He turned in his seat, leaning his back against the wall and fixed his eyes on the front door.

"If I had any say over it --" he spoke with false indifference. "I'd do what I could to change what happened. But no one was asking me," a pause for effect. "Then."

It took a moment for Nikolas to speak, and when he did, his voice was rough. "And if you were asked now?"

Lucky shrugged. "Now, I'd be... available."

Again, no answer. The silence just sat this time, Lucky with his eyes on the door, and Nikolas with his eyes on the table top. There wasn't much to say, really. Better to just sit there and listen to the wounds bleed before they tried to act like everything was Ok again.

The silence ended with the arrival of the food that had been ordered earlier. Lucky gave the waitress a smile that managed to be friendly and encourage quick exit at the same time. When her back turned, Nikolas started in his seat as if he'd just waken from some sort of trance.

"I have to go."

"You're leaving me with this?"

Nikolas cast his eyes over the table, then moved out of the booth. "I have to go."

Lucky reached out and caught Nikolas's sleeve as he started towards the exit. "Nik."

He kept facing the door. "Yeah?"

"Look, I..." He made a face, then pushed on with what he had to say. "I know what it's like to be in love with someone who has problems you can't solve. It's a special kind of hell."

Nikolas turned and looked at him blankly. If what Lucky was saying had hit home, he wasn't giving any sign of it.

"I can solve this one."

With that, he tossed a twenty on the table, and walked out of the restaurant.

Carly twirled a thick overgrown blade of grass between her fingers, and looked up her son. He was standing in front of her, frowning, while she sat cross-legged on the grass.

"Watch this," she smiled, threading the weed between her thumbs and the heel of her hands. She pressed her hands together like she was praying, and raised them to her lips. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled into the space between her hands. The grass vibrated, letting out a long, buzzing note before dying out. Michael looked surprised for a moment, then delighted.

"Do it again!" he demanded the moment she'd finished. Carly held up the grass, which looked a little limp.

"We'd have to find more like this. Maybe later, Ok?"

Her son frowned. "What about this grass?" He crouched down and grabbed a handful from the lawn.

"Not thick enough. Where I come from the grass doesn't look like this," she ran a hand over the manicured Quartermaine lawn. "It's thicker. Tougher. A little more wild."

"In Florida!" Michael grinned. He was well versed on Florida, though he hadn't been since he was an infant. He understood that it was some place very far away where things were very different and for that reason, he seemed to love it. She smiled wryly. He'd probably be awfully disappointed in it if he ever got there. Strip malls and tourists two feet thick...

"Right," she watched him drop the grass back to the ground, brushing off his hands. "In Florida." She reached out and ran her hand over his hair. "It's another trick for you to practice. Like last week. With the stones."

Something flickered across her son's face -- darkened it. Carly felt her chest tighten, but she pushed on anyway. "Did you practice while I was gone?"

He shook his head. Carly shot a quick glance over at Chris, who was sitting, as always, on the bench a few feet away, clip board across her knees. Carly turned back to her son, and lowered her voice.

"Michael?"

He didn't answer. This had been coming -- the whole past week, in the back of her head, she'd been trying out scenarios for this conversation. Sitting on the grass in front of him, watching the way his hair fell across his forehead... Carly couldn't remember a single one of them. She ran a quick hand through her hair, and decided there was only one choice here. Jump right in.

"Sweetie?" she leaned forward, lowering her head to his. "Do you understand what happened last week?"

A shrug.

"Because Mama really wants you to understand that nothing bad happened."

"Miss Benson?"

Carly glanced back at the social worker, questioningly. Chris made a face like she'd just tasted something terribly sour and shook her head. Carly was momentarily incredulous. There was no way talking to her son about her marriage was against the rules. Her jaw tightened, and she looked back with a false smile on her face. It was lost on Michael, who's eyes were fixed on the ground.

"Nikolas and I are married," she pressed on, gently. "We're married. Do you know what that means?"

Michael shook his head. He bent down and started playing with the grass again. Carly pushed out her breath, blowing her hair from her eyes. People talk about marriage like it's so inevitable, but to explain it to a three year old... To tell them that people promise to love each other forever, that they make an agreement to put everyone else aside and make a life together. And to a child like Michael? She and Jason hadn't been married. She and AJ hadn't even dated. And clearly, this whole week had passed without anyone trying to give him a clue.

"It means... It means that we live together. Like Grandma and Grandpa?" She waited until he raised doubtful eyes to hers.

"Like me and Daddy?"

Hot, knifing pain shot up through Carly's center and she lost her breath a moment. She had to take a few quick gulps of air, her face turned away from his, before she could respond.

"You and A..." she cleared her throat, hard. "You and Daddy live together because you're..." quick breath. "Family. That's different."

"How?"

Carly raised her head slightly and her eyes collided with Chris, again. She wasn't saying anything -- wasn't making a move to interfere. In fact, she was watching with a kind of detachment that made Carly's blood run cold.

"We made some promises to each other," Carly sounded numb as she spoke. "And now we live together."

"Why can't you marry me?"

Carly leaned back, startled by the question.

"Because you're my son -- and this is something that adults do together. Adults who... Aren't family."

Michael looked put out. "Could you marry Daddy?"

God, kids never ask the easy questions. "You can only be married to one person at a time," she said, lamely. "And since I'm married to Nikolas, I can't be married to anyone else."

"Why?"

"Because..." her mind reached out for an answer. "Because when two people... Like each other as much as Nikolas and I like each other, then sometimes they get married. And..."

And sometimes they don't. Sometimes one likes someone else even more and he runs off with HER and you end up getting so mad that you lose the only thing it turned out you really needed in the first place.

"Mama?" Michael was looking at her with large, curious eyes. Carly tried to smile, but her bottom lip was quivering.

"It's like..." she took a deep, shaky breath. "All right. When Grandpa Alan and Monica met... they weren't family yet. They were... Friends. And they decided to get married -- so they had a big party..." she leaned closer to him. "You know, like that big party that Jason was having? Do you remember Jason?"

Michael looked at her blankly. God, did Carly hate that. She shot another quick look at Chris who was now scribbling something on her clipboard. She willed the ground beneath the bench to open up and swallow the woman whole.

"Anyway -- usually people go some place... Like a church. And they make promises to each other. And after that... It's like they're family. He's my husband. Do you know that word? And that makes him your stepfather. Like..." She tried to come up with an example for him. God, in all the Quartermaine dysfunction, how could she not come up with a stepfather? "It makes him your family too."

"Daddy's my father."

Carly nodded quickly. "Yes, but Nikolas is another type of father." Damn, there was probably a parenting book about this. Why the hell didn't she read more of those? "It's Ok, Michael. It's different from Daddy."

Michael frowned. She could almost see the wheels in his head turning as he considered all this new information. Finally, he lifted his head up and asked her a question.

"So Nikolas is your family?"

Tears pricked at her eyes. Her mouth trembled as she answered, "Yes."

"Aren't you my family?"

She nodded because she couldn't speak.

"Then why can't you live here with Nikolas?"

Carly bit her lip so hard, she nearly drew blood. Her hands, clasped in her lap, were clenched so that her wedding ring dug into her skin and made her fingers ache.

"I just can't, Michael." she managed, tightly. "I can't."

Emily had taken up tennis because it was social, it was good exercise and it provided an instant excuse to get out of the mansion. On Saturdays, generally, it was good to be scarce -- And today, after some consideration, she'd opted to skip the day's showing of the Nikolas and Carly Follies. When she walked into the kitchen to find her brother slumped over the counter, staring murderously at the wall, she once again congratulated herself on the decision to make use of her country club membership.

"That bad?" she asked, from the doorway. AJ lifted his head, looking a little confused at the sound of an outside voice. Seeing her, he seemed to snap to, pushing himself off the counter and picking up a bottle of mineral water he'd been nursing.

"Worse."

"Oh," Emily moved into the room, letting the door swing shut behind her. "Ice cream?"

Her brother studied the bottle in his hand. "What kind?"

Emily rolled her eyes as she pulled open the freezer. "Does it matter? Ice cream!" She pulled a pint off the door and displayed it to him temptingly. "Private stash! Cook won't care!"

"Why do we always have Haagen Dazs?" AJ sulked. "What's the matter with Ben & Jerry's?"

"Grandfather doesn't like the names," she turned the container around, examining the label. "He thinks they're deliberately obtuse. Whereas Triple Brownie Overload is comparatively, pretty straight forward."

"God," he grimaced before taking a swig of his water. "What's wrong with this family?"

"Such a good question," Emily pulled open the silverware drawer. "Are you abstaining?"

"Abstinence," he slumped against the counter again, "is my middle name."

Emily frowned at her brother's back. This wasn't standard 'Carly's in my house' misery. She bit her lip, wondering what had happened this time. It couldn't be as bad as this last week. She always tried not to take sides in all things Quartermaine, and this was no exception. In fact, it was the reason she'd adopted the rule. When it came to Michael and Carly, Emily couldn't even discern a side to take.

In the past few years, AJ had really been a touchstone for her. Someone to roll eyes with when things got crazier than usual; to escape with when the air got too stale. These days, she was easily as close to him as she was to Jason. Maybe a little more so, since AJ knew what it was like to grow up in this house. She loved Jason -- but he wasn't a Quartermaine anymore. AJ... Well. AJ's whole life was about being a Q.

He tried hard. He really did. The problem was, he tried hard at too many things. In a compassionate universe, he shouldn't have had so much on his plate. The mere fact that he'd conquered his alcoholism -- he'd been clean for over four years now -- should have counted for a lot in her family's eyes. But since being a drunk had always defined him, the only way to garner any consistent respect was to become Wonderboy. To out do Ned, to try and shine as bright as Jason had. That was why AJ was CEO of ELQ. It was why he worked backbreaking hours, while trying to be a father to Michael. Sometimes, Emily was in awe that he managed to keep all the balls in the air. Everyone was constantly watching to see which one he was going to drop first.

AJ had turned out to be a good CEO -- if not through natural ability, then through determination. And he was a good father. He was Michael's favorite person at the mansion, no contest. Emily ran a distant second, beating out Alan, she was certain, only because she was a girl. Sure, Michael had his nanny, but... Well. He didn't really seem to like her a whole lot. They'd gone through three since Michael had moved in. It might have been easier if Carly hadn't been raising Michael alone for the year before she lost custody. His Mama had been his whole world, and it had taken a long time before he'd really understood that she couldn't come at night when he cried for her.

That was the part that made Emily queasy. Ok, so maybe Carly wasn't bucking for mother of the decade. Maybe she was even dangerous -- certainly, Emily had never been stupid enough to test her. But Michael missed her. It was subtle, but she recognized the signs. When things at the mansion got... Well... Louder than usual, Michael would get difficult. Moody. He'd test every boundary, he'd refuse to do even the simplest things. He'd start waking up at night. And though his mother's name was never uttered, Emily couldn't help but think that there was a connection. That maybe there was a reason Michael rejected every nanny who came into the place. Maybe when he refused to get dressed in the morning, or threw a temper tantrum during dinner, what he really wanted wasn't a different shirt or not to have to eat his vegetables. Maybe what he was longing for was his mother.

Of course, it was hard to talk to AJ about that. Hell -- it was pretty much impossible to talk to anyone in this house about that. Emily grabbed a second spoon out of the drawer, making an executive decision, and moved over to the counter. She leaned across it, and focused on her treat.

"Do I want to know?" she asked, as she pulled the cellophane off the top of the pint.

AJ shook his head, swallowing another sip of his drink. "Grandfather locked Carly in the living room and scared the hell out of her."

Emily stared at the untouched surface of the ice cream.

"Please tell me that's a joke."

"Wish I could."

Emily straightened up, slamming the carton down on the counter. "Where was Chris?"

"Carly didn't take it well," he continued, ignoring the question. "Rely on Grandfather to do something that stupid right when she's got enough room to make something of it."

"Christ, first he spends all morning ranting about Jason, and now --" Emily let out a sigh and collapsed against the counter again. She was too tired from the night before to bother getting dramatically angry right now. "Wasn't Nikolas there?"

Her brother shook his head.

"Bobbie?"

"She came alone."

His sister picked up one of the spoons and dug it into the surface of the dessert, purposely zeroing in on a brownie chunk. "She never comes alone."

"She did last week. Maybe hubby doesn't like kids."

"Nikolas loves kids," she said absently. Stupid freezer, this stuff was hard as a rock. "He used to volunteer at GH Pediatrics."

"Oh, great," AJ muttered. "That's good to know. Does he also talk to animals? Can he spin straw into gold?"

Picking up the Haagen Dazs in her hand, Emily managed to dig out a spoonful containing two brownie bits and a walnut. She turned and shoved the spoon towards her brother's mouth. "Eat."

He petulantly took the spoon from her and took a bite while Emily picked up the other spoon and resumed her task. "Is that what you look so pissed about? Grandfather?"

He groaned, then swallowed down the rest of the ice cream. "You know me too well."

She just shrugged, and hopped up on the counter. "I've been paying attention."

He nodded, eyes on counter top. "It got ugly. Me and Carly."

Long silence interrupted only by the sound of Emily's spoon scraping on cardboard. "How ugly?"

"Medusa meets Frankenstein." The ice cream landed on the counter in from of AJ and he dutifully dug into it as he spoke. "Have you ever known anyone who just brought out the worst of you? You spend ten seconds with them, and you have to go off and loathe yourself for a good four hours afterwards? Just because you can't believe how much bile they coax out of you. You don't want to know you have that much mean in you."

Emily nodded. "Couple of people get me to stretch my inner bitch. Couple of dozen, actually."

He shook his head. "She thinks I'm the biggest bastard to ever walk this planet."

"She's got a point."

"Et tu, Emily?"

"I just mean... Look. YOU even admit she has a point! You ARE a bastard when she's around!" Emily pointed at him with her spoon for emphasis. "You're telling me you go out of your way to hurt her. I mean... why? Why do it? If it makes you feel like hell about yourself, if you don't LIKE what it does to you -- then forget her! Why do it to yourself?"

"Because SHE hurt ME," AJ shot back without hesitation. "No other woman has ever annihilated me quite that efficiently. And when I'm around her, it's hard not to return the favor." Emily made a face and AJ got defensive. "You never knew her before this mess, Emily. But Mom did -- she gets it. You meet her, and she's this sweet girl with a great smile who acts like she's your best friend. You think she cares about people. You think she cares about you. And you let your guard down and BAM!"

"Laundry cart."

"Exactly! You find out you're dealing with a calculating sociopath and four years later, you're still asking yourself how the hell you ever got mixed up with her in the first place."

"Yeah, well," Emily shrugged, "you were drunk."

AJ grinned, caustically, and took a swig of his water. "I wasn't drunk."

Emily started and looked at him with wide eyes.

"AJ, you were blackout drunk! You didn't remember what happened for months!"

He shook his head, protesting her statement.

"Carly and I didn't sleep together because I was drunk. Carly and I slept together because she was drunk. No," he put both hands down on the counter and looked his little sister in the eye. "If Id been sober, I might have said "This is wrong" or "What about Tony?" -- but trust me. That would have been for show."

"But you were friends with Tony." her voice had shrunk.

"Wouldn't have mattered," he admitted. "I wanted her."

"I know too many men," she declared, digging her spoon into the Haagen Dazs again. "They tell me things like this and it just makes me really depressed."

"Oh, don't worry. There are better men than me out there."

She snorted. "Where?"

"Em. This marriage isn't going to last."

Emily smirked. " Oh, is THAT your advice? I just wait out the marriage and pounce on the rebound?"

AJ shrugged. "If you still care."

"I still care," she said, dully. "I'm always going to care. I just... I can't deal with him right now. It's too weird."

"It's too fresh."

"It's not just that," she kicked her feet out in front of her. "I'm 18. You know? I just graduated from high school this month and the boy of my dreams is married to another woman. That's not really... A Boy of My Dreams thing to do."

"Ok -- I've never actually been a teenaged girl, so maybe you'd better just explain that to me."

"Teenaged Melodrama's supposed to be 'He asked someone else to the prom' and 'He wants to get to third base'. It's not supposed to be 'He married my nephew's mother!'" She gave a wry smile. "I'm thinking... Maybe he's too old for me."

AJ granted a slow smile.

"You might not feel that way when this is over."

"You really think that's going to happen?"

"I give it six months. Max."

Emily licked off her spoon. "You're so jaded."

"I prefer world-weary."

He reached for the carton and started to dig out another spoonful of ice cream. Emily watched him, feeling a raw ache in her gut. For everything AJ was saying, for all the sense if might make to a person off the street, she had a suspicion that they were both equally screwed. Years and years Emily had dated other guys and tried to convince herself that she'd be able to get over Nikolas. For years and years she'd always come back full circle. There's just something about that one person you can't have. And if she needed proof that she wasn't alone in that? She just had to look at her brother. No matter what he said about Carly -- no matter how many names he called her -- Emily saw through it. She knew something in him still wanted her.

"Do you think he'd still be in one piece," she asked, quietly. "When it's over?"

"Couldn't tell you," AJ's mouth twisted, bitterly. "I feel sorry for Nikolas. I do. When he comes to, he's going to have a hell of a mess on his hands."

Nikolas leaned against his car and stared impassively at the Quartermaine mansion. He'd been standing there like that for over an hour. After his mostly-unproductive meeting with Lucky -- something he was still attempting to assemble in his head -- he hadn't been able to make himself go anywhere else.

All right. Not entirely true. There were one or two other locations calling his name. But the way he felt right now, he knew he wouldn't accomplish anything with it. Just get into arguments he could no doubt have later. Upset his wife further.

Truth be told, though... No matter how many places he felt like he should be, no matter how many people he wanted to confront at the moment... Nothing felt stronger than his desire to be with her. Leaving her at the door had been the hardest thing he'd been called on to do in a long time. Every fiber of his being wanted -- needed -- to stay and protect her. From what, he couldn't completely spell out, but he'd felt so wrong about letting her go in alone.

The moment he let her out of his sight, he gave disaster another chance to strike. He still couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something to bring on what had happened at the Nurse's Ball. That he shouldn't have left her alone. Maybe he just shouldn't have made her go at all. It was his fault -- his inconsideration, or his lack of foresight, that had led to that particular collision of fates. Somehow there must have been a way for him to stop it.

All right, so he couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was, but that didn't make him feel any better. Nothing, in fact, made him feel any better at the moment. Well -- sneaking suspicion that pummeling Jason Morgan might help, but that wasn't an avenue he was going to explore at the moment.

His faith that he'd get through this experience without turning down that road, though, was waning.

There was something inside him right now, something that he hadn't felt with this kind of intensity in a very long time. A sort of raw, open feeling. A sensation that things were spiraling out of control and that he was proving helpless to stop them. He couldn't make himself think or act fast enough. Everything in him just wanted to go off -- to forget what was right and advantageous. Ignore the fact that there was protocol and strategy to be considered. Stop trying to see the next logical step, ignore the concept of slow and meticulous response -- the list of things his father had gone to great pains to teach him over his twenty-one years on this earth. He wanted, desperately, to just let go and follow his gut. Do what everyone ELSE was apparently doing with impunity and just react to what was being done to Carly. To make it clear to everyone that he was powerful, he was strong and that they could NOT mess with him. He wasn't going to stand for it.

It couldn't be like that. It just couldn't. As hostile as he felt at this moment, it was nothing -- NOTHING -- compared to what he'd experience if he did anything to make this situation worse. Right now, that was the only thing he knew he was doing for certain. He might not be fixing anything, but at least he wasn't tearing anything down.

The alarm on his watch went off and Nikolas silenced it without looking down at his wrist. It was a few minutes to five. It was time for him to be with his family.

In the nearly three hours since their visit had begun, Carly and Michael had not ventured out of the Rose Garden. After their talk, Michael hadn't been very interested in grass whistles or leaping rocks. In fact, interest had waned on all fronts. A box of toys and books had been brought out from the house, but the harder Carly tried to get Michael interested in something, the more he seemed to withdraw. Two pages into a picture book he'd insist that he didn't WANT to read anymore, and would start something else, only to abandon it moments later. Carly had asked if he wanted to race -- No. Go to the lake? No. Go inside? No. Play? No. Cuddle? No. If she tried to talk to him about this -- ask if he was upset, or angry or tired -- he'd just answer with some nonsequitor concerning a bug he'd spotted, or show a sudden absorption in a toy car or some other distraction.

The ONLY thing he'd shown any real interest in was picking petals off of Lila's roses which was just so thoroughly beyond an acceptable pastime. Carly was feeling utterly exasperated. She had a permanent lump in her throat, feeling on the very edge of tears nearly every minute she and her son were together. She was holding onto it so tightly that her jaw ached, her chest felt like it was about to collapse in on itself. Occasionally she noticed her hands shaking, and the harder she tried to act like nothing was wrong, the more intensely exhausted she felt. The more she wanted to just curl up in a ball on the grass and give up.

"Look, Michael," Carly tried again, trying to keep her voice light. "A puzzle."

Michael cast his eyes in her direction from a few feet away.

"It has animals," she tempted. She held up one of the wooden shapes. "Look. What's this one?"

"A cow."

"Yeah?" She looked at it critically. "What's a cow do?"

He ventured back to her. "Mooooo!"

Carly laughed at the expression on her son's face. "A cow does 'Mooo'?"

"A cow SAYS 'Moo'!"

"Ohhh," Carly nodded, as Michael took the puzzle piece from her and flopped down beside her on the grass. She picked up another barnyard animal. "What about this one?"

"That's a pig!"

Well Hallelujah, Carly thought. Something they could talk about.

"Can you make a pig noise?"

Michael nodded enthusiastically, but his attempt was cut short when he spotted something over his mother's shoulder. Carly's heart automatically leapt into her throat, and she turned to see what had distracted him. She felt sharp pricks along her shoulders when she spotted him -- standing in the archway, one hand on the white painted trellis, the other hanging loose at his side.

Nikolas.

She twisted around, getting up on her knees, her head turned towards him. "It's five o'clock?"

He stepped through the archway, nodding. "Exactly."

Carly nodded. She hadn't expected him to just... appear.

"Michael," her voice was breathy and insubstantial as she turned back to her son. "Nikolas came back to see you. I thought maybe he could play with us again this week. Like last time? You liked that, remember?"

Michael pointed at the puzzle piece in his mother's hand. "Pigs say oink," was his only response.

Carly's stomach tied itself into a quick and tight knot. She felt so close to the edge, she was actually feeling vertigo. She wanted to turn to Nikolas so badly, to tell him what was going on. Get a hug, some sort of assurance. She knew she'd lose whatever it was that was keeping her going this afternoon if she did that. She could almost feel it choking her, the desire to just fall apart. To completely dissolve into tears of frustration, pain, fear. Prince Charming, right? Wasn't he supposed to sweep in here and fix everything?

She really really had to stop having that thought.

"Yeah," she agreed with her son, looking around at the other animals scattered on the grass. "Yeah, pigs say oink. And..." she fumbled with the pieces in front of her. She was aware of Nikolas entering the actual Rose Garden, but she didn't look directly at him. "We've got..." her hand closed around a sharp edged shape. "A rooster..."

"I don't want to play with the puzzle."

Of course not. That nearly lasted a whole minute. Carly sighed, and looked down at the grass.

"Do you want to go with Nikolas and play with the rocks again?"

She asked the question, but she was certain she already knew the answer. The worm was turning. What did she think? Just because Michael worshiped the ground Nikolas walked on last week, didn't mean he was going to so much as LIKE him this week. No. Of course not. And why? Because God Forbid anything ever be easy.

"I don't wanna."

Carly was nodding, afraid that if she raised her eyes, she was going to lose it once again.

"Let's clean up these toys, Ok?" she said, her voice shaking a little. "Find something else to play with?"

"I don't wanna play," Michael threw the cow down onto the grass. "I'm sick of playing."

Chris had gotten to her feet and was walking from the bench towards Carly. Damnit. Damnit, no. She started to put the pieces back into the wooden frame on the grass in front of her. Her hands were shaking just enough to make it a challenge.

"I think Michael's feeling a little agitated," the woman related, with a patronizing tone.

"No kidding," Carly bit out before she could stop herself. She reached out, ignoring the social worker, and grabbed Michael's hand. "Honey, what do you want to do? Tell me what you want, Ok?"

Michael was looking at Nikolas with an expression Carly couldn't put a clear name on. It didn't look angry. Just... wary, maybe. Uncertain. Confused. He seemed to realize he had his mother's attention, and turned to her suddenly.

"I wanna book."

"Read?" Carly nearly choked with relief. Finally! "You want to read a book? We can look at one of your books. Is there one you want to show to Nikolas?"

"No," Michael complained, crawling into her lap -- something he'd rejected the chance to do for most of the afternoon. "I wanna read it alone!"

She wanted to scream. She really did. Even as her arms closed around her son and she hugged him against her chest.

"Michael --" she started, with strained voice.

"Michael," Nikolas interrupted, speaking so softly that Carly was surprised his voice was carrying the short distance between them. "Would you like me to leave?"

Carly tried to swallow against the lump in her chest. She honestly didn't know what she was going to do if Nikolas left. She wasn't sure what she'd do if he stayed. She stared at the grass in front of her, while Michael burrowed closer to her.

"Daddy says Nikolas is a spoiled brat," he announced.

Carly's body tensed automatically at the words. Nikolas only blinked -- quickly, like you would if something flew a little too close to your eye. No one else spoke, and for several moments, the only sound was the distant buzzing of a lawn mower on the other side of the grounds, and the occasional rustling of the trees.

"Well," Carly said finally, reaching for a nearby copy of The Night Kitchen. "Your Daddy certainly would know about that."

Carly read five -- FIVE -- books to Michael in their last hour. He was suddenly deeply fascinated in all of them. Insisting, after every one finished, that he needed another one. She pointed out things in pictures, and asked him questions, but Michael mostly just sat in her lap, and turned the occasional page when prompted. He didn't look at Nikolas who sat, silently watching, on the bench beside Chris. On the other hand, he hadn't insisted that Nikolas leave. In fact, he hadn't made any real comment about how he felt about Nikolas's presence at all. The only thing Carly was clear on was that Michael wasn't interested in deepening his relationship with Nikolas at the moment.

Nikolas hadn't said more than a few complete sentences since he'd arrived, opting out of the Mommy & Me moment unfolding in front of him. The way he was feeling at the moment, it was better to just watch. Study -- the way Carly was holding herself, the fatigue that seemed to hover just under the surface. He remembered that from the week before. That underlying sadness. The strained calm that was stretched over everything. It hadn't been as noticeable then, but it had still been there. And today he was more aware of how different she was when her son was around. How soft, and quiet she got around him. She was patient with him -- more patient than Nikolas has ever seen her. Her hands would gently stroke his hair, while she read for his ears only. If Michael kicked up a fuss about something -- not being the one to turn the page, for instance -- Carly took it in stride. It was all so foreign to the woman he knew. Not that he expected her to turn on her own child the way she occasionally did with him. But it was still an experience to watch her so free of all the things he was used to seeing in her. That defensiveness. The constant need to deride herself at the slightest hint of criticism. All the armor was gone with Michael. And sitting on the grass, her head bent over the book, her hair spilling around her like a curtain, she looked incredibly beautiful.

That, more than anything, was the woman he'd fallen in love with. The one who had pressed him back against the couch and told him she didn't want him to leave. The one who skipped around the deck of the Zephyr, overflowing with joy because she was outside, and there was water, and she was alive. The one who had responded to one of his darker stories by digging seeds from a pomegranate and swallowing them. That was the same woman sitting in front of him right now.

It took him awhile to realize what it was about her son that brought this part of her so fully to light. It was simple enough, when it had hit him -- Carly knew that Michael loved her. She knew that he loved her and he wouldn't stop. The lack of concern if he got upset with her, or if he complained or fought her on something -- that came with the deep to-the-bones knowing that the bond between them was unbreakable.

Unconditional love. If you've been someone's child, you understood what it is. It's how you love your mother. Hadn't he? Even he knew that. You don't get a choice. It's just the way it is. And watching Carly right now, he understood how important that was to her -- to who she was. Bobbie's words the night of the dinner came back to him -- "If you really love Carly, it'll be all she needs."

And God did he love her. God did he want that to be enough.

On the grass, Carly was taking a deep breath, as Michael turned the page, and started to read again. "Z Z Z Z, what begins with Z?" a deep breath. "I'm a Ziggerzaggerzuz, as you can plainly see."

"What's that?"

Michael was pointing at the last page of the book.

"A Ziggerzaggerzuz," Carly answered absently.

Beside Nikolas, Chris shifted her weight. "Miss Benson?"

Carly leaned pressed her lips against the top of Michael's head. Her eyes fixed on the ground. "Yes?"

"It's six o'clock."

She blinked. After a few moments she placed a kiss on Michael's temple.

"Time to go inside, kiddo."

Nikolas stood as Carly disentangled herself from Michael, and started to gather up his books and toys and put them into the crate. Carly was struggling to pick up the crate when Michael pulled on her arm. She looked at him and he threw both hands up into the air over his head.

"I wanna be carried!

"I've got it," Nikolas moved across the garden without any extraneous movement. Carly stood up as he approached and stepped aside, watching him bend pick up the box. Michael was still holding firmly to his mother's arm, and moved closer to her. Nikolas flashed him a quick smile as he lifted up the toys. For a second, it looked like Michael smiled back, then her turned his face into his mother's side.

"Up!" he demanded again.

"Ok, uuuup you go," Nikolas heard Carly's voice behind him as he moved out of the Rose Garden. The four of them made their way back to the house, the social worker making irritating small talk as she walked along beside Nikolas. Innocuous things. She'd already made some noise about whether or not she was to expect Nikolas's presence regularly and had mentioned that the files would have to be updated with Carly's new address and phone number. Nikolas had told her his office would take care of it. Something about this woman made him want to sic Cece on her. The sooner the better.

They entered the house as they had last time -- through the French doors in the living room. The room was empty, but the moment Nikolas walked into the mansion he spotted Emily. She was sitting on the stairs in the foyer next to AJ, and was immersed deeply enough in their conversation that she didn't notice him. He put the box down, inside the door, and turned back to wait for Carly.

She was close behind, talking quietly with Michael, who she was carrying on her hip. She gave him a weak smile as she passed him, then continued on towards the foyer with Nikolas following.

AJ saw them first, hushing Emily as stood up. Whatever it was they'd been talking about, it was clear they didn't care to have outsiders hear it.

"Still in one piece," Carly said with an almost breezy quality as she entered the room. "What do you know?"

AJ seemed to stiffen, and Nikolas narrowed his eyes. There was something even more tense about him than the week before. But then, that was probably to be expected. He descended the few stairs, stiffly.

"I think we've done enough of this today," he said quietly. He put out his arms. "Michael!" voice brightened. "Time to say good-bye."

Nikolas had to will himself, once again, not to get jealous when he watched the intense way Carly looked at AJ as they stood, face-to-face, about to trade off their son for another week. He might have understood what she'd said to him outside the mansion the week before, but that didn't change the fact that he hated seeing her with this man. He hated seeing that connection -- no matter how dark it might be. It was still there, and a very base part of him wished it wasn't.

He didn't notice, of course, that Emily was watching him. Standing on the stairs, with her lip bit, while he watched Carly like he wasn't aware she was in the room. It was because she was so focused on Nikolas that she didn't hear the sound at the top of the stairs. Didn't noticed as someone else started to descend.

"Ok, Mr. Man..." Carly was saying. "It's time for me and Nikolas to go --"

"What is HE doing here?" Edward demanded, coming down the stairs. "You listen here! We have to let this woman in here, but there's nothing on those papers about letting in the men she picks up!"

"Grandfather," Emily turned on the stairs, hands flying to grab both bannisters and block him. "Come on --"

"Is this allowed?" Edward called over Emily's head towards Chris. "Can't we have SOME say about who can come in our house?"

"Don't--" the word was AJ's and it came out clipped. "I swear, Grandfather, if you try --"

"THAT BOY--" Edward pointed a finger towards Nikolas who only raised his eyebrows in response. "IS A MENACE!"

A menace. Well, it had been awhile since he'd been called that. Nikolas glanced over at Chris, a concerned frown on his face. "Is this allowed? In front of the child?"

Chris opened her mouth, but was cut off. "I'm not going to be preached at about how I behave in my own house!"

"GRANDFATHER!" AJ cut in. "Just let it go."

"I'll be talking to my lawyers about this," Edward was looking directly at Nikolas now. "You better believe I'll be talking to my lawyers."

Nikolas gave a distracted nod, his eyes still on his wife. Carly was holding Michael, one hand over his ear, and her arms sheltering him.

"It's ok, sweetie," she was murmuring to him. "It'll be over soon, Ok?"

"And I don't --" Edward was continuing. Nikolas threw up a hand, angrily.

"You're understood, Mr. Quartermaine," he tried to keep any edge out of his voice. "Now will you let my wife say her good-byes?"

He humphed, an

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