Chapter Fourty-Four:
Eclipse

The sun rose slowly on Monday morning. That was Nikolas's opinion, at least, as he'd been lying awake, watching it creep over the lake for the last few hours. A quick glance towards the bedside table let him know that he wasn't due to get up for a good hour and a half. Plenty of time.

Time wasn't something he felt like he needed more of at the moment. Rolling over fitfully -- far less careful than he might have hours before -- Nikolas propped himself up on his elbow and surveyed his sleeping wife. She was lying on her side, turned away from him, her breath falling in the same slow measured way it had been all night.

How could she sleep? He was endlessly irritated by this reality. He lay here in agony for the second night running, while she slept like death. Making no sound, barely making any movement, all night long.

It wasn't actually a difficult mystery to solve. Carly slept because Carly had no questions. She knew what was going on inside of her at the moment. She didn't need to lie in the dark for hours on end contemplating theories, weighing options and generally driving herself mad.

Nikolas dropped back onto the bed, tossing an arm over his eyes. He wanted to wake her up. He'd been fighting the urge for hours. He'd concocted a few schemes -- plausible reasons to disturb her at 5 am. Still breathing? Just checking. You can't always rely on that steady rise-fall of the chest. Have to keep on top of these things.

He could always go the honesty route... Wake her and say... What? I can't sleep, make me feel better? Forget about the ten thousand things wrong with your universe and pretend everything's fine so that I can get some sleep before I have to leave for the office in three hours.

He did not want to go to work today. Forget the sporadic sleep -- he had no idea how many hours he'd managed to get. The only way he knew that he'd had moment of unconsciousness were the conspicuous gaps in his clock watching. He didn't want to leave her alone. Not that his presence made any particular difference to her at the moment. He had literally entered rooms and not rated a blink. And that was bothering him more than he wanted to admit.

He felt stupid. Childish and selfish, to be fixated on things like that right now. Jason and Robin's big news, followed so quickly by the Quartermaine fiasco on Saturday -- it was no wonder Carly was preoccupied.

She hadn't said anything after they'd returned from seeing Michael. He'd been waiting for the inevitable collapse, but it hadn't come. Not in a way he could see, at least. She was just quiet -- didn't seem to have any interest in anything, and went to bed early. She'd been indifferent to whether or not he joined her. The next day she'd gotten up late, but the mood was exactly the same. Quiet, detached, and very much apart from him. She seemed to flinch if he opened his mouth. Nikolas had the strong sensation that he was not supposed to touch her. That she wanted him to keep his distance.

That was work. He wanted to comfort her -- Hold her. In the past 24 hours it had moved from a desire to a need. An ache. He needed to be a part of this. But he didn't know how, and she was offering no clues. It left him feeling bereft. Empty in a way he hadn't felt consciously in a long time. It was hard-turn-around. A week ago he had lay beside her, sunk into the kind of intimacy he hadn't even known existed. Content and warm -- Held. In quiet moments alone with her, he'd attained something akin to peace. All those years -- All the times he'd come in last in the Laura Sweepstakes. For a few days it hadn't mattered. Carly wanted him, all previous rejections were now null and void. Not worth contemplating.

It was willfully naive of him to think that feeling would last. Now he lay here and wondered just how possible it would be that he could recover from this -- that if something happened to take Carly away from him permanently -- What were the chances that he'd survive it?

Didn't bear thinking of, and that was all the answer he needed. Which meant this had to change. Which brought him right back around to lying here, in the dark, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. Get Michael back from the Quartermaines -- Ok, fine. He was on that. But it wasn't immediate. It wouldn't change this -- Not today. Not tomorrow. And so he lay here, in this ever brightening room, watching her breathe and wishing to God he could just reach out and touch her.

He stayed there until he couldn't stand it anymore -- until there was enough light in the sky to justify getting up and starting to get ready for the day. Carly didn't stir when he turned on the dim light on his side of the bed. She didn't acknowledge his leaving the bed, and when he got out of the shower twenty minutes later, she was still lying determinedly on her side, her back to him and the room. He dressed without taking his eyes from her, watching for something -- anything. Finally, when there was simply nothing else for him to do, he moved back to the bed. He sat down on the space he'd vacated, and stared down at the floor for long moments, before speaking.

"Carly."

No answer. He sighed, and twisted around to look at her. He reached a hand out, and lightly stroked the curls of blond hair that were spread out on her pillow.

"Carly."

She let out her breath -- a sign that she was, in fact, hearing him. Finally, "Yeah?"

"I'm going into the office for a few hours." He paused for comment, but none was forthcoming. "Are you going to be all right here?"

"Hmm."

"I can stay, if you want me to."

She rolled over, then. Lay on her back and looked up at the canopy overhead, blinking several times before answering, "No, s'fine."

"You're sure."

"Uh huh," she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I have... I can do stuff here."

Nikolas nodded. He watched her as she lay, eyes covered with her hands. Protected from having to look at him.

"All right," he said softly. "You have my numbers."

"Yep." Her voice was thin, like she was pushing down irritation -- straining to keep her words bland and subtext-free.

"Then I guess..." he felt his throat tighten, suddenly and without warning. "I'm leaving."

"Ok," she murmured, rolling away from him. He waited several moments, while she curled up into a ball next to him. Then he stood and walked from the room, filled with the knowledge that for the first time since their first night together, Carly had not kissed him good-bye.

"LUCAS!" Bobbie yelled up the stairs for the second time in under a minute. "Get down here! You're keeping your ride waiting."

"I can't find my other shoe!"

Bobbie closed her eyes, mouthing words under her breath before turning her attention to Felicia. Her friend was hovering in the doorway, one hand on the jamb, the other holding her dripping and still open umbrella outside the open door, looking more than a little anxious.

"I'm sorry," Bobbie sighed. "I swear, he had both of them yesterday."

Felicia gave a wan smile. "No explanations necessary. Georgie could lose an elephant in a wading pool."

Bobbie nodded, shifting her weight. She could feel that same stiff smile she'd been wearing for the last few minutes beginning to wear on her features. Felicia's own expression began to look even more strained, and Bobbie finally gave in, throwing up her hands.

"Speaking of elephants --"

"I didn't want to bring it up, but Bobbie --"

"I know it's not your fault --"

"I've been feeling sick about what happened --" Felicia turned back and did a quick check on her SUV -- sitting in the driveway, engine still running, windshield wipers pushing determinedly at the late spring rain. "I wanted to call you --"

"I picked up the phone two dozen times, yesterday," Bobbie admitted.

Felicia let out a quick laugh. "I finally had to put the phone in the freezer! I was driving myself crazy -- couldn't call anyone, couldn't put it down!"

Bobbie blinked in surprise. She'd been in a similar position all weekend, holding the phone in one hand like a security blanket, alternately making obsessive phone calls to Nikolas's cell phone, her brother, and several -- mostly aborted -- calls to Wyndermere. It hadn't occurred to her that Felicia would be in the same boat.

"What's going on?" Bobbie stepped closer to her, dropping her voice. Lucas had a talent for appearing at the most inopportune moments. "Did Robin say anything? What made her DO that?"

Felicia shook her head. "She won't tell me."

"Well, have you talked to her since the ball?"

Her friend looked surprised. "Bobbie! She's been staying with us! She wouldn't go back to the penthouse, she won't talk to Jason -- Mac's in heaven, I can't remember the last time I saw him look so smug."

Bobbie jerked her head back. She hadn't lasted at the ball long, after Carly's exit. In the past few days she'd had ample room to obsess about Robin, Jason, the baby -- but she hadn't given any thought to the repercussions to Robin and Jason as a separate entity.

"Jason didn't know she was going to do that?"

"Bobbie, she WASN'T going to do that! They weren't planning on telling anyone about the baby until after the child was born. I mean -- The Quartermaines! You know how crazy they got about Michael!" she winced the second the words were out of her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry --"

"No, it's ok, Felicia," Bobbie sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. "I just really didn't think... " she looked up. "Is Jason mad at her?"

Felicia bit her lip. "Well. He hasn't been breaking down the door to talk to her."

"No, he wouldn't." Bobbie buried her face in her hands. Ok. Ok -- think. What does this mean, Barbara Jean? And how likely is it Carly's heard any of this?

"Bobbie?" a light, tentative hand touched her shoulder. "How's Carly doing with this?"

Bobbie let out a low, humorless chuckle, and lifted her head. "Well. She's not talking to me. That's about all I can tell you for certain."

"Oh, Bobbie -- I knew you hadn't talked to her yet, but --"

"She took one look at my face, Felicia. She just knew."

"Oh." Felicia struggled for a moment, trying to deliver the proper platitude, then gave up. "Oh."

Bobbie gave a light shrug, while her hand tightened around the bannister. "I'm used to it," she dismissed. "I've known Carly long enough not to take it too..." her voice cracked, and the lump in her throat swelled too large to allow her to finish the sentence. She shook her head, aware that she had tears in her eyes, and looked away. "She has Nikolas."

There was quiet. Rain falling, wind gusting in through the open door. She fixed her eyes on the polished wood of the staircase.

"I'm sorry, Bobbie. I really am."

She nodded quickly. "I know. So am I."

"What the hell is with you people today?"

Cece was sitting on the edge of the desk outside the main office, palm pilot in hand, gaping at her boss in outrage.

"What people?"

"YOU," she waved a hand at him. "Cassadine-types. It's like, eight o'clock! Isn't the whole vibe supposed to be Creature-of-the-Night, Rise at Dusk --" she stopped dead. "Man, you look like hell."

"Thank you."

She ignored the tone of his voice, and hopped off the desk. "Your aunt is here. She's BEEN here for half an hour, and she's insisting on being your first appointment. In that quiet 'I-shall-not-be-moved' way."

Nikolas looked blank. There was no reason he could think of, for Alexis to feel the need to be forceful about seeing him.

"Anyway," Cece had rounded her desk, and was shuffling through papers. "It doesn't matter, since you're not seeing anyone until ten -- And that's just that weasely little number guy..."

"Barnaby."

"Whatever. I ordered breakfast from the deli downstairs. Here's the Journal, The Herald stuff on the ball, your schedule for the week, and you'll have to let me know about lunch."

It didn't matter how long Nikolas worked with this woman, she never ceased to make his head spin. "That's fine..." He started to back towards the door. "If anyone --"

"I'll hold your calls," she rolled her eyes. "Christ, you never want to talk to anyone anyway --"

Nikolas turned and entered his office, glancing in a fit of masochism, at the Herald's society page. There was a quarter-page photo of Robin obviously taken mid-speech. He tossed it onto a chair by the door, raising his head to see Alexis standing by the windows. She'd turned away from lake-gazing at his entrance.

"You're early." She said this without inflection. Her face was unusually blank -- a face he saw her wear most often in court. She was here on business, clearly. His stomach clenched in anticipation.

"Did something happen?" he asked crossing the room. "Has there been some kind of change with --"

"Why aren't you answering your messages?"

She didn't look particularly impressed. Nikolas stopped dead.

"My... what?"

"I left nearly ten messages with your service after Friday, I'm wondering why you didn't get back to me."

Nikolas hadn't checked his messages since before the Nurse's Ball. Apart from the three hours forced out of Carly's company on Saturday, he'd had his cell phone turned determinedly off. Even Cece had been informed that he didn't want to be notified of anything short of nuclear war.

He started towards his desk, feeling irritated at the question, all the same. "I didn't get them."

"We've set this boundary, Nikolas. When I'm working as your attorney, I need you cooperation --"

"You have my cooperation," his voice was strained. "I was busy."

She pivoted towards the desk, shaking her head firmly. "You worry me when you do this. When you suddenly cut all communications with the outside world."

"That's not a particularly lawyerly point, is it?"

"AND it makes it difficult for me to do my job. And make no mistake about it, Nikolas -- I appear to have a job in front of me."

"Do you chastise your other clients like this?" Nikolas asked petulantly as he sank into the chair behind his desk.

"Constantly. How do you think I hold up my track record?" She moved to stand in front of his desk, eying him critically. "You look tired."

"I'm fine." She didn't hide the concern in her voice, and Nikolas averted his eyes so that he could lie a little more easily. "It's been an abnormally long couple of days."

Alexis's expression was grim. "I can imagine." She sat down across from him, and pulled out a legal pad and pen. In a few short moments she was looking at Nikolas over her glasses, pen poised to record his answer to a question she hadn't asked. "What happened?"

He frowned, leaning back in his chair. "When?"

"Carly's visits with Michael are every Saturday afternoon."

Nikolas nodded, not catching her meaning. Connections were coming a little slow this morning.

"So what happened?"

"What --"

There was a faint glimmer of a smile. "Nikolas, I know this family. For a brief moment, I was a PART of that family. There is no way Saturday went off without an incident."

One of the vast number of things Carly had not spoken to Nikolas about in the past twenty-four hours was how her visit with Michael had gone. It had seemed more than a little sadistic to bring the topic up, considering how things had ended. And honestly, as much as he tried to tell himself that Michael's dramatically different reaction to him was understandable -- that he was a child, and that he could grasp what must be going on in the boy's mind -- it still stung. It still made him feel sick to remember the desperation in his screams.

"Michael..." He drew in his breath. "Michael had a temper tantrum when it was time for her to leave. Carly said he hadn't done that before."

"And before that?"

Nikolas shrugged. "I was only there for the last hour -- it was exactly like it was the week before. She played with Michael, and the Social Worker watched their every move." Nikolas picked up a pen off his desk and errantly wrote the word "Chris" on a small note pad by the phone. Project for Cece.

"And before that?"

"More of the same."

"Were you with her when she arrived at the mansion?"

Again, he was being given court-tone. Nikolas raised his eyes to hers, frowning.

"Yes. No -- I dropped her off, she wanted to go in alone."

Something flickered across his aunt's face, which he read as a sign of her knowledge that, yes -- he hadn't liked that, particularly.

"She said nothing happened? With the family?"

"She didn't say anything."

"Would she tell you if something had happened?"

"Of course she would!" Nikolas snapped. He forced himself to take a steadying breath before continuing. "This has been hard on her, Alexis. What happened at the ball, and Michael..." He let the sentence die, having no desire to go into detail. "What is this about?" he let his fatigue show in his voice. "Why is it so important you speak to me this morning? Why does this whole conversation feel like I'm being cross-examined?"

Alexis sat back and pulled off her glasses. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a careful breath before looking back at him.

"I've been reading." She dropped her pen on top of the pad in front of her. "You asked me to dig up everything I could find, and that's what I've done."

"There's a large 'and' on the end of this sentence, isn't there?"

"I hate bullies." There was an uncharacteristic edge to her voice. "I was raised under the thumb of one, I've watched Stefan duck them his whole life, I just..." Her voice faded out, her eyes fixed on the window behind Nikolas. Then she shook herself, snapping out of it and looking back at him. "So is some deep personal issue being stirred inside me? It's possible."

"Not because of Ned."

She let out a quick laugh, and shook her head. "No, not because of Ned. Ned's... Conflicted on this topic. But does the idea of Edward having his hands on another young mind to warp disturb me? He might not be Helena, but I doubt it'll matter when Michael's therapy bills come rolling in." Nikolas raised his brow at that comment, and Alexis tilted her head in acknowledgment. "I might be a little dramatic on the topic. But I'm not a fan of children being deprived their mothers. In extreme cases, it's necessary, but..." She frowned. "I never thought I'd be saying this... I'm not convinced that Carly is one of those cases."

This, Nikolas had to admit, he hadn't seen coming. Had he been planning to use Alexis as his attorney in the fight for Michael? Well, yes. Had he expected her to do everything in her power to achieve the desired ends? It was Alexis. Did he anticipate her having a personal stake in it?

Not to this degree.

"Do you have something to tell me?" he asked softly, eyes fixed on his desk blotter.

"If you're up for it."

Nikolas nodded, and twirled his pen in his fingers. "Fire away."

The house was quiet when Nikolas wasn't there. Still. It didn't creak, wind didn't blow through it. There had been a steady drumming on the windows, the roof, that morning, and Carly had been vaguely aware of it as she'd slipped down under the covers and tried to pretend she wasn't waking up. But now the rain had stopped, and she was unable to sleep anymore. This was the quietest place on earth.

She sat on the top stair, clad in jeans and one of Nikolas's shirts, her feet bare. Her hands were laced together and she was staring down at the dark wood that descended in front of her, leading to the front door. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting here. Even getting here wasn't a clear memory. Nikolas had left early. That she knew. She'd rolled over onto his side of the bed, hugging his pillow to her, and let herself sink back into unconsciousness, her brain fighting mightily to chastise her over details of their brief conversation.

She hadn't let it. Round one for Carly. She'd wrapped herself in linen that smelt faintly of her husband, and she'd managed to banish him from her thoughts. By the time she'd rolled out of bed, he was nothing more than an abstract idea. A theory. Something that could exist outside of her current dreamscape, if she wanted it to.

This was deep in the pit. Where she was right now -- it was the place where you could tell what direction the light came from, but it you looked at it, your eyes hurt. At the same time, there was still room to fall. More dark to bury herself in. She'd waken up in this place Sunday morning. All day, she'd struggled to find the will to climb out of it. She'd grabbed hold of it once or twice -- in little flashes. Quick ones, ones that came on out of nowhere and jumped her. The worst had been in the shower, where she'd just leaned against the wall, eyes shut tight and the water pounding down on her. She'd felt real for a little there. Air thick, the water hot, and her skin buzzing from the sensation of it. She could feel that churning in her gut, that sharp hot feeling that had possessed her while her son was screaming for her to stay with him. Screaming, while she turned and walked away from him.

She'd turned off the water and slid down the wall, instead. Listened to the water run down the drain, watched the drips fall from her saturated hair onto the tile. There was so much pain out there. And here she was numb. And it was quiet. Safer to stay here, then test the waters anywhere else. So she'd shaken out her hair, and let herself stay there.

She wasn't even upset anymore. Not really. She could repeat the events of the past few days to herself, and they just didn't move her. They made her tired. Made her want to think about something else. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot of 'else' to think about. The day before -- Sunday, the longest day, a day when, for once, Nikolas didn't have to go anywhere. By mid-afternoon she'd been absolutely desperate to get away from him. Not that he was crowding her -- not in any concrete way. Just that he was THERE. Even when she was alone, lying on the bed and staring off into nothing, he was downstairs, in the study, being THERE.

She'd started to fantasize, aimlessly, about things that might make her feel better. Numb or not, she didn't feel good. She was still vaguely aware that this wasn't something she was allowed to do anymore. And there had to be a way out. One that didn't involve collapsing within the walls of the shower. One that would just take everything down a notch.

Alcohol. First retreat, always. But if she drank, Nikolas would know. Second retreat... more alcohol. And some place dark. And loud. With cigarette smoke and music, and men. Lots of men. Men to flirt with, dance with, lead on -- or just flat out take. Vessels that were nothing more than a name, a face, and a source of attention. Just throw on a new identity -- Tina, Andrea, Chrissy -- Tease and flirt and be someone else entirely for a few hours. Someone she didn't hate with everything in her. That would be nice. That would be better than this. But she hadn't done anything like that in a very long time.

Unless, of course, you counted Nikolas, who was downstairs. In the study. And wouldn't take kindly to this line of thought.

Funny that. She'd slept with Nikolas to avoid feeling the way she did right now. A part of her ached for everything he'd given her on their first night again -- for those compelling, disordered, untrustworthy feelings -- being WANTED. Nothing else. Just being the object of some unimportant man's affection.

She couldn't... She couldn't do that with Nikolas. It was hard to explain, but she couldn't exactly... Look at him. And she REALLY couldn't tease or flirt, or act particularly lighthearted around him. She wasn't entirely sure what might happen if he touched her. It was a non-issue, though, because he wasn't trying. He didn't touch, he didn't push, he barely talked. He just watched. And she tried not to notice. To just float here, like she was under glass. Snow White, choking on her apple.

Her whole body jerked -- spasmed, almost -- at the sudden rapping that shattered the cottage quiet. She sat up straight and stared down at the door. Her heart started to beat -- beat so that she could feel it, high in her chest, knocking against her breast bone.

The knock came again, and Carly stood up too fast. Vertigo -- she reached out and grabbed the banister to stop herself from swaying. It was too early.

"Carly?"

Her mother's voice carried through the door. Carly's mouth went dry. Feelings. Feelings, coming. No. No, not now. Not NOW.

"Carly? Please, honey --"

She crouched down on the step, bending over so that her head rested on her knees. Go away. Go away. Just get the hell out of here.

"Carly, I have to talk to you."There was no attempt to hide the desperation in her voice. "Baby, please."

Baby. Please, baby. Baby, please. She shook her head.

"We need to talk about this."

She straightened up, sucking in her breath. Looking down the stairs she could make out the blurred image of her mother through the cut glass.

"Carly." Change of tactic. Bobbie's voice hardened. "I'm not leaving here until I see you're all right."

Carly let out a derisive snort and looked away -- at the sculpted plaster on the wall beside her. Smoothed in swirls. She put her hand against it, traced the lines.

"I can stand here all day and yell through this door!"

She stood up again -- no warning, the decision coming on like a sudden fever -- and ran down the stairs. Reaching the bottom she didn't give herself time to think. She just flung open the door like she was ripping off a Band-Aid.

Bobbie was standing, arms held around herself, to the side of the door. She stepped forward when the door open, and stood in front of her daughter. Carly could feel the wall descend as she looked at her -- trailed impassive eyes over her, then looked up to meet her mother's worried gaze.

"Carly --"

"What do you want?"

"AJ?" the voice on the other end of the phone sounded anxious. "AJ, are you there?"

"Yeah," AJ leaned back in his chair, flipping the phone on speaker, and tossing the handset aside. "What's up?"

"It's Monday."

"Um hmm."

"I didn't hear from you yesterday."

He let out a long breath, spinning slowly in his chair. He stopped the chair suddenly, and snatched the framed picture of his son off the desk top. Red hair, pink ice cream all over his mouth, grinning.

"AJ."

"Same as last week."

"Okaaay," hesitant, uncertain. "AJ --"

"I have work to take care of." He leaned forward, poising his finger over the release button. "I've gotta go."

"Wednesday, then?"

"Wednesday. I'll be there."

He disconnected the line before she could say goodbye.

Alexis was, Nikolas couldn't help but note, annoyed. Not at him, as he'd been assuming since he'd walked into here. No, this appeared to be the product of her sense of justice being kicked around. It wasn't a side of her he was familiar with. These people -- she kept using that phrase. These people are used to getting what they want. They are used to being able to sway any opposition with properly placed 'donations'. They don't care who gets hurt. They don't expect to hear no. It all sounded awfully familiar, but he just leaned back in his chair and listened. Editorial comments were obvious and unnecessary.

"Then," she was continuing, having already gone over the basics of the case, "There's the fact that it's been over a year since Carly's case has been reviewed. In that year, she hasn't missed any visits, there haven't been any incidents at the mansion. She hasn't caused any mayhem -- she hasn't been close to any mob-related violence, if you don't count the incident with Jason Morgan..."

At the sound of that oh-so-familiar name, Nikolas clenched his hand around his pen. Jason Morgan. A name he'd been forbidding himself to think. It lead him nowhere he wanted to go. But here it was, introduced by a third party, and his brain seized on it. What incident with Jason Morgan? How long ago was this? Did she mean something he knew about, or was this new information? And how possible was it for him to ask, and not look utterly panic-stricken?

"In any normal case," his aunt was saying, dragging Nikolas focus back to the task at hand. "The terms of her visitation would be reassessed. This hasn't happened."

"Which means...?"

Here Alexis looked across at him and gave a distinctly malevolent smile. "Certainly nothing I can prove."

"Quartermaine interference."

She turned back to her notes. "The conditions of the original trial weren't exactly ideal. Her attorney was freshly weaned -- He'd unofficially taken over a small practice from his Grandfather, he hadn't been practicing for even two years. Outmatched, without a doubt. There's a list as long as my arm of points he failed to make. He made virtually no attempt to defend any of Carly's behavior, and since that's the primary factor working against her --"

"What was that?" Nikolas sat up quickly, leaning across the desk. "What was it that made them decide she was unfit?"

Alexis let out a long breath, still staring down at the papers in front of her. Finally she lifted her head, eyes fixed on Nikolas's, and asked "How much of Carly's history do you know?"

Nikolas shook his head. If one more person asked him this question... "I haven't been living under a rock."

She nodded. "The Quartermaine lawyers tried to show a pattern of disregard for others -- sociopathic behavior..." She frowned. "It's not entirely far-fetched."

The pen in Nikolas's hand made a snapping sound, cracking along the middle. "She is NOT a sociopath!"

"Well, no..." Alexis spoke slowly. "By definition a sociopath is incapable of comprehending the consequences of their actions. They have no empathy, they have no regard for other people -- they don't see anything outside of their own needs and desires. That kind of... callousness," she paused for breath. "Looking at the transcripts, Carly seems to be able to... delineate. She does seem to have a sharp line between who matters and who doesn't --" his aunt looked up at him. "Sound at all familiar?"

He tossed the damaged pen down on the desk. "She's a Spencer."

"There seems to be some sort of biological imperative there." A sigh. "Protect your own at any costs, and everyone else..." her voice faded out.

"It's not a bad philosophy," He murmured. He took a deep breath, and straightened up. Carly. This was about Carly. Not his conversation with Lucky on Saturday, and... any other memories that might be stirred by what his aunt was telling him. "What needs to happen?"

Alexis was frowning at him, her brow knit. "Are you sure you want to talk about this right now?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He asked her, playing purposely dumb. If he wasn't careful the topic was going to shift, and he had absolutely no interest in allowing that to happen. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Just tell me what comes next."

"Well... You get a lawyer. You start proceedings." They stared at each other a long moment, before Alexis tossed her file down on his desk top and leaned back in her chair. "You said one step at a time, Nikolas --"

"I want you."

A small smile. "Then you have me."

"But you work for me. Not my father."

"What about Carly?"

He nodded. "Us. For... Us."

Alexis glanced towards the file again. "Well, then. I'll need to talk to her."

"Not yet."

"Nikolas -- She's the boy's mother, you can't unilaterally launch an attack without making sure she understands what's going to happen."

He shook his head, firmly. "No -- I want to know the details, I want to know what you think we should do before I present it to her."

She cocked her head at him, and they seemed to communicate an entire conversation without either of them speaking. -- You're being a typical Cassadine male, you're trying to control everything. -- Maybe, but good luck stopping me.

"There are obstacles," Alexis allowed, finally.

He shook his head. "I don't care. I want them leveled."

Another smile. Alexis always managed to do this without looking like she found him amusing. He wasn't sure how she pulled it off, but it worked.

"This is the complicated part, Nikolas. There are two ways we can approach this -- legally speaking."

"By 'legally speaking', do you mean within the bounds of the law?"

"Not... necessarily," She twisted in her chair, one hand resting on the back, and crossed her legs. "But -- this can be done within the bounds of the law, if you're willing to go that route."

Nikolas allowed a small smile that was void of mirth. "I'd need to know what the pros and cons are."

"All right." She stood then, turning and pacing back to the window, then turning to look back at him. He watched the wheels turn in her head, until she was ready to speak again. "There are enough holes in the original case to... Demand reevaluation. We can go back to court, we can fight for custody again, and -- I'm certain, given our resources, we can win."

That was what he'd wanted to hear. Not that he had, at any time, thought there was some chance that he couldn't achieve this particular end. If Cassadines weren't capable of getting things other people couldn't... Well, he wouldn't have even been born. What he hadn't told Carly -- what he hadn't wanted to start thinking about in any detail -- was how far they'd have to go to get the child back from AJ. He already knew he was willing to do what it took. No question. He was just hoping to hear that it was something he could get with brains and money -- not something he'd have to get through more... direct methods.

"I want this over. I want it over as fast as possible."

"The original fight -- from papers served to the end of trial -- took almost a year."

"Not good enough."

"I thought you'd say that." She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "The fastest way to get this done will involve a lot of payoffs, a lot of wrangling, and probably more than a little blackmail." Nikolas didn't flinch, though he could tell his aunt was looking for it. "If we go that route, she could probably have custody... Within six months."

Nikolas started to his feet. "Alexis --"

"BUT!" she held up a hand, warding him off. "There's that little matter I was telling you about earlier..." she raised her brow. "Carly's visitation is due for review. Why it hasn't happened yet is anyone's guess -- Her social worker should have ordered it at least three months ago. I'm not sure if Carly's aware of that. The details should have been made clear to her by that same social worker..."

Nikolas sank back into his chair. "I don't like the social worker."

"Duly noted."

He shook his head, impatiently. "What does this mean?"

"That it might take us longer than six months to fight dirty and get a custody ruling that the Quartermaines will probably try to have overthrown -- but if we fight clean, take advantage of the fact that the social worker is asleep at the wheel -- we can have Carly's visitation radically overhauled by the end of the summer."

"What would that look like?"

"She gets four hours, supervised at the mansion, a week, right?"

"Right."

"If you both listen to me and follow my advice, I can get her at least three days a week. Unsupervised. If we're lucky -- on the island. If that's a problem, the Brownstone."

Nikolas absorbed this. It was good news, he had to remind himself. So why didn't it feel like enough?

"How soon?"

"Depending on how the dates go, it might take a few months. It could take weeks."

"Weeks."

"Michael's young," Alexis continued, eyes on the carpet. "The court isn't going to go for extended visits just yet. When we take this back to court, we can play that card -- she's his mother. He's not even school aged yet. They'll take that into consideration, tender years -- the court hates to take children away from their mother, particularly in their formative years."

"Then how the hell did this happen?" Nikolas spit.

"She got railroaded. It happens every day."

He let his eyes close. Every day occurrences. He couldn't think about that.

"If we do this, if we have the visitation reevaluated, can we still fight for custody?"

"You know how this works, Nikolas. It'll be a slower process, but it will be build on a more solid foundation."

He nodded. He did know this. Oh, did he know about stuff like this. Son of Stefan, it was impossible for him not to understand the value of methodical planning. Of careful execution. More than ever he was wishing he had his father's patience for it. More than that, he wished there was some way to pass that patience on to Carly, to Michael. The real hell of this situation was that nothing was going to be fast enough. Nothing was going to truly satisfy him, unless it succeeded in somehow erasing the last year from everyone's life. He leaned forward, burying his face in one hand. He had to do this. That simple. He had to do this right, if it killed him. The way he was feeling right now, there was no solid proof it wasn't doing just that.

He jumped when Alexis's fingertips grazed the back of his other hand. He hadn't notice her cross back to him. He blinked a few times, frowning down at the desk top, while Alexis's hand circled his.

"I know how important this is to you," she said simply, squeezing his hand. Nikolas returned the gesture, eyes fixed on the ring she wore -- gold and black -- the Cassadine crest. A gift he'd given her himself when she'd come back into the family fold. When he was still the Prince.

"I have to talk to my wife," his voice was surprisingly steady. "I have to see what she wants to do."

Bobbie didn't answer her daughter's demanding question. She hadn't planned to come here today, but after Felicia had left, she's just accepted her fate. Two days she'd struggled with everything in her to stay away. To give Carly some time to come to her. When her daughter hadn't... Well, there was only so much waiting around she could stand. Now that she saw her, she wasn't sure she'd made the right decision. But she cocked her head to one side and nodded towards the door.

"Can I come in?"

Carly exhaled, and turned away like a child who'd suddenly lost interest in some form of entertainment. She moved into the living room, with a dazed sense of purpose. Do something. Do something. She spotted her salvation sitting on the dinning room table. Boxes! Boxes on tables. Packed and waiting. Something she hadn't been able to make herself do since the ball. Since...

Since.

"Did you come here for something?" she asked, listlessly as she moved under the lower part of the ceiling, and came to stand, her back to her mother, in front of a still-sealed box in the middle of the table.

Bobbie was still standing on the landing -- having only entered the house. She let her eyes move across the room. From the inside, the place looked like a castle made of polished wood and glass. She pulled the door closed behind her.

"I tried to call you," she said quietly.

Carly's hands tore open the top of the box.

"We weren't doing phone calls."

"It wasn't just me, then."

No answer.

"Carly," Bobbie stepped down the stairs into the living room. "Can we sit down and talk about this?"

Carly stared into the carton. "I'm in the middle of something here."

"Five minutes. I want to explain what happened."

A bitter smile appeared on Carly's lips, and she dug her hands into the stew of objects in front of her. "This should be interesting."

Bobbie's eyes fluttered closed at the tone in her daughter's voice. She'd known there were three things she'd have to face if she came here. Rage. Devastation. And this. This place that was in between, and nowhere at all. The one place she'd never been able to navigate.

"I was going to tell you --"

"But you didn't."

Bobbie took a breath. "I made a mistake."

"Lot of that going around."

She turned away, facing the glass wall on the far side of the room. She wasn't going to plead for forgiveness. That wasn't what Carly really wanted from her. It was too much like manipulation. She wasn't going to lay her feelings on her. She was just going to... Be here. She struggled to find something to say, something to break up the silence while she worked out what the magic words were going to be this time. What was going to fix this.

"This..." she turned on her heel, gesturing towards the sparse decor. "This is nice. It's different than it was when..." she cleared her throat. "Do you like it?"

Carly picked up the first item in the box -- the gorilla candle holder from Lucas. Nikolas had packed this box. She pulled it free of the newspaper it was nestled in. She heard the click of her mother's shoes on the hardwood, moving back towards her.

"She's HIV positive."

She threw the words up like a shield and it had the desired effect. Bobbie stopped dead in the middle of the room.

"That's not the issue, Carly."

Carly nodded slowly. Bobbie always got defensive when Carly brought up Robin's health.

"When they made me go to GH for all those blood tests, wasn't that the issue?" she asked quietly, staring into the spooky eyes of the figurine in her hands. "That I'd exposed myself? Wasn't that one of the things that everyone thought made me a bad mother? That and Jason. Argument number one -- look who she lived with. Look who she slept with." she shook her head. "But Robin? She's a hero. She's an inspiration. So forget the fact that she might be dead in ten years, let's give her a child to raise."

Carly's voice was unnaturally quiet as she spoke. Out of character. Bobbie felt a tremor in her hands and clenched them into fists.

"I'm not here to talk about the baby."

"Then why are you here?" Carly put the gorilla down on the table with a thud. "What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be happy for them?"

"Of course not --"

She let out a laugh and turned to face her mother, finally. "Sure you do! Wouldn't that make everything so much easier? You wouldn't have to trek out here to Spoon Island in the rain to check on me then!"

Bobbie took a deep breath. There was a lump in her throat the size of Montana. She was surprised she could still breath -- could still speak.

"I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

Carly narrowed her eyes and gave deep study to her mother's features. "How long?" She asked, finally.

"What?"

"How long did you know? How long did you keep that secret for them?"

Bobbie shook her head at the implication that she'd been playing for the other team. "Felicia only just told me a week ago."

"And you never found the right time."

"Carly," Bobbie strained to be patient. "When she told me -- you were off God-knows-where marrying a man you hadn't even told me you were dating --"

"I wasn't dating him," Carly said, dispassionately. "I was fucking him."

Bobbie blinked, temporarily stunned. Not by Carly's language -- she was used to that. It was what she said. What she seemed to mean by it. Carly would make self-debasing comments at every turn during a full-on fight. But this wasn't a fight. And there was something different about it. It was more than degrading herself. It was belittling her whole relationship with Nikolas.

"Carly."

Carly scratched her neck absently. "And he's traditional enough to think that means he has to marry me."

"Carly," Bobbie took another breath. "Don't do this --"

"Maybe he thinks I'm pregnant," Carly mused, staring off into nothing. "Everyone else probably does, huh?" She looked back at her mother with blank eyes. "That he had to marry me? After all, that's how I support myself, isn't it? Getting knocked up by rich men who'll have to take care of me."

If she would just get mad -- get upset -- Bobbie would know what to do about this. But Carly was still waters, and there wasn't a hint of emotion about her. Bobbie moved forward, anyway, putting out her arms to try to pull her daughter into an embrace. Carly ducked it expertly, moving quickly across the room. "But we both know that's not possible right now. You fixed that."

Bobbie stared after her. "No one twisted your arm," She said quietly, unsure of where Carly was going through this.

"No one really gave me any other option, though, did they?" she looked back at her mother, a slight smile on her lips again. "'You don't want another child, do you, Miss Benson?' 'It's important to take precautions'. So just drop your pants and let us make sure you don't do anything stupid."

Bobbie's mouth was half open, in surprise. She and Carly hadn't ever talked about this outside of the basics. The mechanics of it. "You agreed with them. Carly --" She shook her head. "You said you didn't want anymore children! I wanted you to try the Depo Privera instead of doing anything more permanent -- this is so that you CAN still have children!"

"Yeah," Carly placed her hands, palms flat, on her lower abdomen. "More children I can give away to people." she stared down at her flat stomach. "You don't have to do this anymore."

Her voice was hollow and it raised the hairs on the back of Bobbie's neck.

"Baby --"

"Don't call me that," Carly's head snapped up. "Don't ever call me that. We don't have to play this game anymore. I was sick and you took care of me because no one else will. Because it's your fault I'm here --"

Bobbie paled visibly.

"But I'm someone else's problem now. From Tony, to Jason, to you.... To Nikolas. The buck's been passed."

"Carly --"

"I don't need another person trying to tell me what to do, and how to do it. I don't need a mother who didn't have time for me until I was twenty-five, to hold my hand anymore. So save yourself the stress, Barbara..." There was, finally, a hint of malice on her mother's name. "And leave me the hell alone."

Bobbie's mouth worked, trying to get out a sentence, trying make herself cut her daughter off -- put an end to this garbage coming out of her mouth. She wanted to scream. To reach out and grab her. But the truth was, she just wasn't sure what might happen if she did. If she'd make things better -- or if she'd make things worse. As she struggled, Carly let out a sigh, and turned towards the door.

"I'm done now."

"Carly --" Bobbie spit the word out. "You can't get rid of me. I'm never going to give up on you."

"Then that's your problem," Carly sounded bored as she walked past Bobbie towards the stairs. "Because I gave up on me a long time ago."

*** Depo Privera, if you're not aware (and I wasn't until recently) is a shot administered every four months that prevents pregnancy at some outrageously high percentage. It's taken once every four months and works similarly to Norplant.