Chapter Fourty-Five:
Interference

"What are you doing?"

Nikolas glanced in the direction of the voice. Carly was standing on the landing in front of the door. She was out of the bedroom. That was... New. He turned his attention back to the box on the table.

"Have you decided where you wanted to put this?"

Carly started down the stairs. "What are you doing?"

It was Tuesday evening, and this was already the longest conversation they'd had since Monday morning. Nikolas had taken to spending the bulk of his time on the first floor in the past few days. It was a better place to pace. A better place to indulge in the dangerous questions that kept running through his mind -- like why these boxes hadn't been touched in days.

"Everything in the study was moved back to the main house, if you wanted to start putting this..." He indicated the boxes still piled on, under and beside the as-yet-unused dining room table. "Away."

Carly shifted her weight, her eyes fixed on the box directly in front of Nikolas. It was the one she'd opened when her mother was there. She'd left it when she'd gone back upstairs, and she hadn't been able to do much more than stare at the rubble of her former life since then. She had absolutely no will to do anything with it.

"I'll get to it --"

Nikolas folded down the top of the box. "If you decided where you wanted it to go ..."

"I'll get to it," a defensive edge entered Carly's voice, as Nikolas continued his sentence, speaking in a near monotone, sounding unaware of her interruption.

"...Mrs. Landsbury can have someone from the house take care of it."

She turned her eyes on him then, but he was still looking at the table top.

"I can do it," she said, crossing her arms, protectively. "I can do it, I'll get to it, I can do it."

He turned towards her, quickly. "Carly --"

Eye contact. The dreaded occurrence. Kept happening -- Little moments of accidental connection. They were living like two people who'd run into each other in a hall, then can't seem to get out of each other's way. I'll go left -- no wait, you go left, I'll go -- Right. Left. Right.

Eventually one of them was just going to turn around and go back to where they'd come from.

But for right now, they just stopped. Nikolas in his quiet desperation and Carly in her guarded helplessness. He looked worn out; she looked hollowed out. And for a second it was there. That complete recognition. Nikolas pulled in his breath and took a step towards her, just as she broke away. She turned, hurrying back to the stairs.

"Whatever. Do whatever you want, I'm going back to bed."

"Carly!"

His voice was sharp enough to surprise him, and it stopped her on the bottom stair to the second floor. He moved forward, coming to stand under her, his head tilted up. She turned at the railing, careful to focus on the wall behind him. Nikolas struggled with what to say to her. There was so much in his head, and nothing was coming out of his mouth. Finally he threw up his hands, giving up on the idea that there was anything 'right' to say here.

"It's been four days."

Her eyes stayed on the wall, her expression blank. "Yeah."

"When are we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

It was always like this. Always -- He'd try to bring attention to the fact that something was wrong, and she'd act like she had no idea what he was talking about. He turned away, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know. You won't tell me."

"I'm tired, Nikolas. People get tired."

"They don't get this tired."

She didn't answer, instead focusing on her hands, which were gripping the banister, moving along it, like she was trying to wring water from it. Nikolas reached out and grabbed one of the balusters and pulled himself forward, leaning his head against the polished wood.

"We have to talk," he said, heavily. He'd been trying to talk to her ever since his meeting with Alexis. He'd called from the office. Repeatedly. She hadn't answered the phone. He'd found her in the kitchen when he got home -- sitting on the counter and staring off into space. She hadn't noticed him at first, and when she did, she'd jumped. She'd made a weak attempt at welcoming him home, then moved away from him, streaking across the living room and heading upstairs where she promptly locked herself in the bathroom for the next three hours.

Three.

During that time, he'd received a high-strung phone call from Bobbie, who was, apparently, a good twenty to thirty times more angry at him for his lax cell phone habits than Alexis had been. So angry, in fact, that the conversation hadn't amounted to much of anything. She'd seen Carly. It hadn't gone well. She wanted to make sure Nikolas understood that Carly was going through a rough time.

It had taken a lot of self-restraint not to get caustic at this point. He lived beside this woman. Had he noticed that something was off? There had been one or two clues.

He'd hung up feeling resentful, and that was still with him when Carly finally emerged from bathroom -- dressed in white, a long nightgown that had been in the wardrobe when she'd arrived. She'd looked at him warily, and he tried to ignore it. He had a cure for this, after all. He had news from Alexis. And he'd told her that -- That he'd been looking into the custody case. Into the situation with Michael.

She'd had no response. She'd sat on the far edge of the bed, and just stared off into space. She didn't acknowledge that he'd even spoken her son's name. It had scared him. No other words for it -- it was so different from what had been there before, that it had awakened some deep fear in him that he couldn't allow himself to think about. Things about mothers and sons and indifference. He hadn't been able to bring the topic to the table again. The words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

"We have to talk," he repeated, partially to convince himself of the necessity of this.

"About what?"

"About everything."

Carly's hands stilled. She felt a sickening cold feeling start to creep along her spine.

"I said I'd take care of the boxes."

"I don't care about the boxes!" Nikolas pushed himself away from the stairs, and turned, pacing across the room. He stopped, turning back, and looked at the haphazard sculpture of cardboard that had been sitting -- nearly untouched -- since the day they'd moved in. "No, that's a lie. I do care." He looked back at her. "Why don't you want to unpack?"

She shrugged. "None of that stuff is important, I've got what I need -- "

"Then put it with the other stuff --" he said, impatiently. "Put it in storage, or at your mothers -- Why is it here?"

Carly's head jerked up. "What? It's that inconvenient for me to have my stuff cluttering up your palace?"

They stared at each other, both feeling a little bruised. Nikolas shook his head slowly.

"You know that's not what I mean," his voice was low.

"I said I would get to it," Carly spoke slowly, punctuating each word.

His eyes closed, his mouth forming a word she couldn't hear, before he looked up and spoke to her again. "Are you ever," he cleared his throat hard, banishing a slight quiver from it. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"That's not true." He took a step towards her. "Carly --" His voice caught a moment on her name. "You can tell me anything."

"Yeah?" She let out a quick, bitter laugh, and looked away. "Then maybe I just don't want to."

He didn't have a response to that. She could hear his breath -- it was coming harder and faster than usual, but he didn't say anything back. The silence just held on, and finally she looked back at him. The expression on his face was so dark, so angry, that it jolted her. He started across the room, towards the stairs, towards where she was standing. She turned towards him, as he reached the landing, but he kept going straight, wrenching open the door, and then slamming it with alarming force behind him. Carly felt it reverberate through her body like she'd been smacked. She put her hand over her mouth and stared at the empty space in front of her.

What are you DOING?

She had to stop this. She had to. She'd pushed it for four days, and Nikolas had had enough. She closed her eyes, trying to draw that awareness into herself. You promised, Caroline. You promised you weren't going to do this. You were going to try, this time. You weren't going to get crazy again. WHAT was it that made it impossible for her to do anything right when he was in the room? It used to be easy. She used to be able to relax when he was around. Now her body contracted when he entered a room. Or worse -- it had no reaction to his presence at all. She spent half her time feeling numb, and the other half feeling scared. She felt uncomfortable in her own skin, if she felt anything at all. She was taking it out on him. And he hadn't done anything. She knew that. She couldn't explain why that didn't matter.

She stood alone on the stairs and heard him leave the porch. Stood and waited, but there were no more sounds. He was gone. She let out a breath, then started down the stairs, unsteadily. She could fix this. She could. She told herself this as she moved across the room towards the table. She just had to get rid of some of this stuff before he came back -- Well. It'd be a start. She picked up the candle holder Lucas had given her -- still sitting on the table where she'd left it after her mother's visit. If she found a place for this thing, she could find a place for anything.

"Trouble in Paradise?"

Carly let out a scream and the gorilla slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor.

Crickets were chirping in the key of G. Well -- to be honest, it was more like G# with a serious undertone of B -- not the most harmonic mix in the world, but it suited Lucky just fine as he toyed around with the opening chords to Proud Mary. The front door was open, light spilling in from the living room. It looked friendly -- inviting, even -- but the place was tense tonight. It was good to be outside.

Fun new twist this was. Carly trouble -- something that was his Dad's beat, exclusively -- was now Nikolas trouble. And Nikolas trouble wasn't something his family put on the table. Nikolas trouble usually involved his mother doing a little more pacing than usual and shooting Lucky wary glances that he knew were the product of her trying to work out just how to ask him how his brother was. Usually he just took pity on her and told her.

For some reason, this time, he wasn't.

Nope. Instead he was sitting out here, firmly ensconced in Guitar World. An excellent excuse to avoid conversation.

There was a crunch of gravel under shoes, and Lucky looked up, frowning into the darkness. A tall, thin figure was back lit at the end of the drive and he raised a hand in greeting, putting the guitar aside as she moved towards him.

"That sounded good," Emily said as she approached. He shrugged.

"Just killing time."

"Elizabeth at Kelly's?"

"Dinner with Audrey. Intergenerational bonding."

Emily nodded. "Ah."

"Yeah." He leaned back on the steps, supporting himself on his elbows. "So am I supposed to pretend you just happened to be passing by, or is there something you wanna talk about?"

Emily let out a short laugh, and looked away. She'd told herself she was going for a walk when she left the mansion. Of course, her walk had brought her here. Luck of the draw, she supposed, that he hadn't sent her in the direction of Audrey Hardy's.

"Same old, same old," she said tightly, staring off into the dark. "Maybe I should just stand here and listen to you play."

Lucky watched her, critically, then sighed. "Em. Sit down."

It took a second, then she moved, almost dutifully, towards the porch. She sat down, one step below him, still holding her arms around herself like she was cold in the warm spring evening. Lucky sat up and reached for his guitar again.

"So."

She groaned, leaning forward and letting her upper body slump over her legs. "Nothing new. Sing along, if you know the words."

"My family is fighting," he struck a classic blues riff. "I think they're insane." Again -- DA duh da DUH. "Can't figure out why..." She turned her head, grinning at him. "I'm the only one with a brain."

Emily was laughing, silently, her head still on her knees. "I've got the Quartermaine Blues."

Lucky grinned. "Yeah, I've heard of that."

"Any cure?"

He looked hurt. "I thought I was the cure."

Emily sat up, letting herself laugh out loud this time. She turned towards him, her eyes bright. "Yeah, you're pretty good. Wanna come live in my closet?"

"I've done worse." He turned his attention back to his guitar, starting to improvise while he talked to her. "What's on your mind?"

Emily let our her breath, silently grateful that Elizabeth wasn't around tonight. Liz might know more about the details -- particularly the ones concerning Nikolas -- but Lucky had been around from the beginning. They had shorthand. And right now, she just needed to get everything out.

"It's... Michael."

Lucky stopped playing. He stared down at the ground a long moment before answering. "Uh huh."

She started to play with the locket around her neck. The price of shorthand is a whole lot of history. "What's 'uh huh'?"

He plucked at a string a few times before answering. "I gotta tell you something."

"Ok."

"I talked to Nik on Saturday..." another long pause, like he was hoping Emily would finish the thought for him. When she didn't, he sat up to look at her. "I think anything that goes on with Michael -- I have to let him know."

She absorbed that, and felt a sharp hit of fear enter her being. There it was. What had been hammering away inside of her ever since this had started. The custody trial had been hell the first time. She couldn't stand the idea of going through it all again. Of AJ going through it, Michael. But while they waited for something to happen, the whole family had assumed crash positions and the mansion was absolutely unbearable. Which made Michael more miserable, which only served to turn everything up a notch. It was a vicious circle of the worst kind.

"They're going to go for custody, aren't they?"

"He didn't say that."

Emily shook her head. "He doesn't have to -- What else could all this stuff be about?"

"Like him marrying my cousin?" Lucky was starting to feel a little agitated. He knew this was rough on Emily, but it was pressing up against some stuff he wasn't too enthusiastic about, either.

"It's all so weird," she breathed. "He's hung up on Robin for an eternity, and then all of the sudden -- boom! -- He's in love with Carly? How does that work?"

"Rebound." Lucky put up a hand when Emily shot a look at him. "You're the one who said it."

"That was a weird direction to rebound in." She scraped her shoe along the edge of the step. "He really likes kids, doesn't he?"

Lucky sighed, putting the guitar aside again. "Maybe they're not thinking that way, Em. Who knows? They just got married, maybe they want some time to deal with that before they get a kid involved."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Uh..." weak smile. "No."

"Lucky!"

"What do you want me to say?" She just tisked her tongue at him and looked away. Lucky groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Look... Nik adores Lulu, you know? He's got this fascination with her -- because he's never been around a lot of kids. He's never really been around a lot of anything --"

"He wants kids."

"Cassadines take the breeding thing kinda seriously."

Emily chewed her lip. "What about Carly?"

"Carly wants her baby back." He let it hang in the air a moment, before continuing. "She's always wanted her baby back. All right? And no -- We don't talk about that, cause we won't agree."

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm sorry, Lucky. But I can't help it! It'd kill AJ to lose Michael. I swear to God, it'd just rip his heart out."

"Did you see what happened at the nurse's ball? Do you think Carly's heart isn't already in a vice some place?"

"I KNOW!" Emily scrambled onto her feet. "But what do you want from me? I'm AJ's sister! I'm Michael's aunt --"

"You're his Godmother, Emily."

Emily felt that same nauseous feeling hit her again. She knew what Lucky meant. He didn't need to bring it up -- it was something that was always in the back of her mind. She'd made promises when Michael was a baby. And sometimes she really wondered if she was keeping them.

"Lucky."

"Is he happy? Like this?"

Emily hopped down onto the ground again. She paced the earth in front of her friend.

"If I answer that, you're going to turn right around and tell Nikolas, aren't you?"

"Damn straight."

Emily sunk her hands into her hair and tightened them into fists, letting out a growl of frustration. "No. No, he's not happy." She raised her eyes to Lucky's. "He misses his mother."

Nikolas's jag sped through the streets of Port Charles at a reckless pace. He'd hadn't realized he was this angry. Oh, he'd known he was frustrated. He'd known that he really wanted to break something, but he hadn't realized just how intense the feeling was until he'd left the house.

Once outside on that porch he'd known he couldn't go back in there. He couldn't deal with her right now. He was this close to either screaming at her or shaking her; demanding to know what this woman had done with his wife. This whole thing -- this WHOLE thing had started because she kept trying to keep him at arm's length. Kept trying to push him away. So he'd proposed, he'd married her -- that was supposed to be the end of the distance. It was supposed to let her know it was safe.

Well, that was a joke. He hadn't kept her safe, had he? He hadn't been able to stop other people from hurting her. And he was furious at himself. At her, for not giving him another chance. For not listening to what he was trying to do right now. And at everyone else -- all the people outside the house who'd had the chance to do things differently, but hadn't.

Nikolas reached his destination, and pulled the car over to the curb. He didn't let himself stop to think this out -- he was sick of thinking things out -- he just killed the engine and leapt out, not bothering to lock the thing, or turn on the alarm. He moved towards the building with tunnel vision, ignoring the doorman who tried to talk to him, and heading straight for the elevator bank. He'd put this off long enough. At this point, there was no way to fool himself -- he had to come here. This had to be taken care of.

On the penthouse floor, he stepped off the elevator straight into one of Jason's guards. The man almost seemed to be expecting him, standing there with his face blank, hands clasped behind his back.

"Are they home?"

"Can I get your name?"

He always did this -- this guy. Can I get your name.

"Renaldo, right?" Nikolas didn't bother to keep his irritation out of his voice. "Just tell them I'm here."

The man raised his brow, but Nikolas just stared back at him belligerently. After a moment, the guard took a step back and rapped firmly on the door. Eyes still on the intruder, he pushed the door open, and leaned inside. "Mr. Morgan?"

Nikolas could hear the call from the living room. "Yeah."

"Mr. Cassadine to see you."

"Let him in."

The body guard flattened himself against the door, allowing Nikolas to enter the room. Jason was standing by the window, having turned when the door opened. His cold eyes wandered over Nikolas, then he folded his arms across his chest.

"You want something."

"I'm looking for Robin."

He shook his head. "She's not here."

"That's fine," Nikolas moved past the man, into the room. "You'll do."

The plaster Gorilla Candle Holder had died a horrible death. It was smashed into razor sharp fragments -- a few large pieces surrounded by diamond-shaped shards no bigger than a quarter.

Ruined.

"What are you doing here?" Carly said quietly, raising her head from the sight of the decimated birthday present from her little brother.

Luke was leaning against the door jamb that separated the open, inviting section of the cottage, from the darker, closed off kitchen. The 'old' part of the house. His eyes were studying her intently until she spoke, at which point they moved on to other things.

"Don't worry," he said grimly, "I didn't hear anything juicy."

"Did you hear me? How did you get in here?"

Luke nodded towards the door. "He do that often?"

Carly closed her eyes, hands clenching. "I swear to God, if you don't --"

"Didn't tell you about the passage way, huh?" Her uncle pushed himself off the wall and strolled into the main room. "They're all over the place. One comes out in your kitchen. Handy."

She struggled to comprehend that. "To who?"

Luke stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, and let out a low whistle. "Nice. Good view of expulsions, huh? Get to see them throw the unwanteds off the island?" He glanced back and gave her an austere smile. "Ah, but I guess they got you on the top of that list."

"Right after you." Carly spoke with uncharacteristic blandness. She was too busy watching him. He was being awful quiet about things.

"I'll give you that, Darlin'," He muttered, reaching into his jacket pocket. Carly took a step forward, her feet crunching part of the Gorilla into dust.

"No smoking,"

Luke pulled the cigar from his pocket, and put out his hands, palms up. "Aw, Caroline."

She shook her head. "Nikolas will know you were here."

He laughed. "You really think you can keep secrets from that kid?" He snorted and moved towards the couch. "Just a matter of time, Carly. If he's not looking, then The Stiff sure is. There's nothing you're hiding he's not going to flush out." Luke flopped down on the couch, and started to unwrap his cigar. "Look at this, I'm smoking domestic." He kicked his feet up on the mahogany coffee table that Mrs. Landsbury kept at a zealous shine. "You got me so distracted, I haven't been able to get up to Canada to get the good stuff."

Carly had wrapped her arms around her abdomen and was staring down at the floor. She felt, suddenly, a little short of breath.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, desperation creeping into her voice.

Luke lit up the cigar and took a long drag before relaxing back into the cushions and delivering the answer on his exhalation. "Talked to your mother."

She stiffened immediately.

"Get out."

He didn't look at her. "That bad, huh?"

Carly turned, heading up the steps to the door. "Get out," she repeated, pulling the door open. "Now."

He didn't move. Not that she'd expected he would.

"You scared her pretty bad," he was looking up at the ceiling, running his hand lazily over the short stubble he called 'hair'.

"What do I have to do to get you out of here?" Her voice was flat out shaking now -- emotion came up on her fast these days. Luckily it left fast, too.

"It's not her fault, you know."

"I said GET OUT!" Carly left the door, standing wide open, and rushed down the stairs. "Why don't you ever LISTEN to me!" She rounded the couch and grabbed his arm, trying to pull his dead weight to his feet.

"Not 'til we have a little talk." His voice was almost nonchalant. Carly let go of his hand, stepping back. The back of her knees hit the coffee table and she sat down on it, without thought. Just collapsed, hands over her face.

"Fine," she muttered. "So just tell me what the secret password is this time, and we can get this over with."

Luke sat up, pitching his body forward, his feet landing on the floor again.

"You might try listening to me just once, Sweetheart."

Carly let out a high pitched laugh, and looked up at him, her eyes wild.

"Because you've never steered me wrong in the past, huh?"

Luke occupied himself with his cigar, turning it in his hand. Carly batted the smoke away with her hand.

"I've given you chances. You throw them back in my face."

"Funny 'bout that."

"You're best to listen to me now." He raised his eyes to hers. "You're scaring your mother --" Carly interrupted him with a derisive grunt. "Hey -- I don't know what you said to her yesterday, but you got her spun tighter than a top. If this is about Morgan..." he stopped, shaking his head. "It's not worth your time. But if something's off with you and Cassadine --"

Carly rolled her eyes, standing up. "I'm not talking to you about Nikolas."

Luke reached out, almost casually and caught her wrist as she passed the couch. Without thinking, Carly winced at the contact, sucking in her breath. Luke, much to her shock, dropped her arm. She pulled it away from him possessively, anyway, and turned from the couch, walking towards the table again. Behind her, Luke got to his feet.

"What's going on here, Darlin'?"

Carly's eyes were seeing, but the messages weren't getting to her brain. She stumbled over the remnants of the fallen ape, then stopped dead. There was a panic mounting in her stomach.

"I asked you to leave."

"You got an answer for me?" he asked softly -- he was closer to her than she thought, and she jumped.

"It's none of your business," she pulled the cuff of Nikolas's shirt down her arm, more firmly.

"Pretty jumpy tonight, aren't ya?"

Carly kicked, suddenly, at the broken porcelain on the floor. It was violent -- a sudden rage -- and she turned back to him with her eyes full of tears, her face bright red. She let herself scream, "Why can't you EVER just leave me ALONE!"

Luke was standing behind her with an expression on his face that had never been directed at Carly before. She pushed at his chest, and it did nothing to move him. Irate, she pushed again.

"Get AWAY from me!" Luke didn't budge and she hit him -- closed fit colliding with his chest. She hadn't done that before -- it was strangely satisfying, so she did it again. "I don't WANT you here! I never want you here. You just come in and you do whatever the hell you want, you push people around, you bully them, and I am SICK of being pushed around!"

"Who's pushing you around, Sweetheart?" he bent down, his face right in hers. "Is it Cassadine? Is it the boy?"

"You Son-of-a BITCH!"

She raised her hands to hit him again, but he was ready for her. His hands came out, restraining her, pulling her around so that her wrists were held by his hands, and her back was pressed against his chest. He lowered his head, speaking into her ear. "Calm down, Caroline. Calm down --"

"Just get the hell out of here! I don't want you here!" Her voice cracked. Oh Jesus. She was going to cry.

"Hey, hey, hey," Luke was speaking softly, but his was intent on opening the buttoned cuff on her shirt. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Carly let out a strangled laugh, and turned her face away from him. Her eyes fixed on the door. "You're a maniac."

"Just tryin' to help," he muttered, shoving the open cuff up her arm. Carly let the arm go limp, uninterested in keeping it from him anymore. Fine -- let him see. Bastard. Let him go back and start weaving his evil Cassadine Tales.

Luke felt her give in, and he turned her hand around, palm up. There were three light oval marks on the side of her wrist. Small and almost gray in color. In the center there was a large, ugly bruise. Deep purple-blue. He stared down at his niece's arm, feeling suddenly very very still.

"What's this?" his voice was unreadable. "Who did this to you?" Carly tried to pull away, and Luke's turned her to face him, his hands gripping her upper arms now. "Look at me, little girl. I want an answer. Who did this?"

Carly fought in his grasp, her hands flying up and gripping his wrists.

"LET ME GO!"

"Not 'til you come up with an answer for me, Caroline --"

"Spencer!" the voice of Stefan Cassadine barked from the open door, and Carly took advantage of Luke's momentary distraction to finally pull free. She stumbled backwards, backing into the table, and grabbing onto the edge for support. Stefan was entering the house, followed by two very large, rather sore looking goons. "Caroline, are you all right?"

Carly turned her attention back to her uncle, who was looking at her with a mixture of anger and... well -- it looked like concern, but with Luke, it could just be gas. She shook her head, and stood up.

"He's leaving," she said, determinedly. "He was just going."

Luke spared a glance towards the men who looked like they were just itching to get him alone for five minutes. He'd dealt with both on previous visits and they'd come out a little... lumpy. Wasn't hard to work out that this visit wasn't going to bear anymore fruit. He looked back at Carly, grimly.

"Come on. Get your things."

She stared at him. "What?"

"You're not staying here."

"Like HELL!"

"You either come up with some answers, or you pack a bag and get the hell out of his snake pit."

Carly glanced over at her father-in-law, flanked by two men who could, absolutely, carry Luke out of there bodily.

"The choice is yours," Stefan said, eyes focused on Luke. Carly turned back to study the face of her gun-totting, death-threat-issuing, insult-casting uncle.

"What makes you think," she growled, "that I would ever choose you over the Cassadines?"

Luke smirked, and reached out, grabbing for her wrist again. Carly leapt back from him, holding her arm against her chest possessively. Her uncle raised an eyebrow.

"This is a long way from over," he murmured to her. "You know that."

"I'm not your problem anymore," Carly shot at him, "So don't waste your time. And get out of here before you have to be carried out, ok?"

He bent, picking up his still-smoking cigar out of the well-and-truly mashed remains of the gorilla. "You don't get to quit this family."

She turned away from him, walking around him, back towards the couch. "Give it up, Luke. I got fired."

"I can show myself out, then?" Luke glowered at her back. She tossed a hand gesture in his direction that pretty much answered his question. Rated a small smirk, then he turned and flew up the steps to the front door in two strides. He stopped at Stefan's side, and turned, his words coming out in a low rumble. "I see one more mark on that girl, and heads roll."

Stefan made no move to respond, or even acknowledge the comment. He was watching his daughter-in-law sink into the couch, pulling her knees up under her chin.

"See him off," he waved a dismissing hand at the two guards. "Unharmed."

"I know the way," Luke stepped back, and tossed a comment over his shoulder. "Take care, sweet Caroline."

"Go to hell."

"You better watch your back," he advised as the goons on his way out. "Lotta lunatics out there these days."

The Penthouse never changed. The furniture, the embellishments, the papers stacked in obsessively neat piles -- those things altered. Slightly. But the feel of the place just never changed. The way it seemed to push in -- tinted windows and dark walls... It always felt like a prison to Nikolas. A gilded cage. He was familiar with those.

"You want something."

Jason Morgan, Ladies and Gentlemen. Master of the Obvious. Nikolas smiled slightly at the question, his eyes traveling along the side board. There had been a picture of Carly here once. He remembered it, vaguely. From when she'd been in that institution. Carly with her son... It wasn't here now. Now there was that engagement photo. The one Emily had taken. He picked it up -- something he wouldn't have normally done in his present company. He would have considered it invasive. Right now, he really couldn't have cared less.

"She's not home."

"No."

"Is she coming back?"

No answer. He felt a sickening feeling start to creep up on him, and he put the photograph down quickly, not caring to explore that line of questioning any further.

"We need to get something straight." He pushed the words out, his voice incredibly flat. It was better to get right to business.

Jason gave a slight nod. "How is she?"

Nikolas became aware, yet again, that what he really wanted to do here wasn't talk. It was hit. Hard. There was something in Jason's manner that just made that urge stronger. He wasn't going to give into it -- He refused give Morgan anything.

"I'm not going to answer that."

There was a shrug from his opponent. "Your being here gives me a pretty good idea."

This wasn't getting any easier. He let out his breath slowly -- nearly emulating Tai Chi breathing. "Well, there's not much I can do about that."

"What do you think you can do?" Jason said, abruptly. "You're not here to talk."

"No. I'm really not." Nikolas turned to face him directly, putting both hands on the side board. Jason's body was turned away, but his gaze was unflinching -- cold. Something Nikolas was used to. He knew how to match this. "That..." he paused as if looking for a word. "Thing. That happened at the ball. That can never happen again."

Jason raised his brow. Nikolas just stared back. He wasn't going to speak until Jason relented -- which he did, turning to face Nikolas dead on.

"It won't," he said, finally. "It's over."

"I have a slightly different perspective on that."

Jason shook his head. "Robin wasn't going to do that -- It wasn't planned."

"I don't care," Nikolas straightened up. "I really don't have any patience for it. That's what I've come to tell you. I don't care what the circumstances were. I don't care what you *planned* to do. I know what happened. I know what it did to my wife. And I don't want to see something like that happen again. You might think that's overbearing, you might think it's controlling..." He shrugged. "It is. I'll cop to that. But it doesn't change my mind about this. If you don't understand what you did to her, then I'm here to make sure you 'get' it. If you do understand... And knowing it would hurt her wasn't sufficient discouragement -- Then I'm here to find out what will be. Because that's what I'm willing to make happen."

When Nikolas stopped talking he noticed a distinct change in Morgan's demeanor. His eyes had narrowed, his jaw had tightened. He was angry, Nikolas realized. He got a grim sense of accomplishment from it.

"You think you have to do this?" Jason was openly scowling at him now. "Act like you have some kind of power over me and what I do?"

"No," Nikolas smiled, slightly. Old memories. "I know you don't take me seriously -- making threats won't change that. I don't care what you think of me. I never have. And I will do what I have to in order to keep my wife safe."

"You'd better."

Nikolas stiffened at the suggestion in Jason's tone. "What does that mean?"

Jason shook the question off like it wasn't worthy of his time. "What do you want from me?"

"For starters?" He ground out, "I want to know when that child comes home. I want to hear -- from you -- when there is another child living under this roof, because I will not allow Carly to find out from a newspaper, or from some stupid gossip she hears some place. She'll find out at home, and she'll find out from me."

There was a long silence, while Jason considered this. Or, to be honest, while Jason studied Nikolas mercilessly. If there was one thing Nikolas knew how to endure, it was being examined. It infuriated him, coming from Jason, but he kept his expression blank and waited. Finally Jason turned away, giving a half-shrug.

"Ok."

Nikolas really hadn't expected that.

"Excuse me?"

Jason moved over to the desk where he started going through papers. "I never set out to hurt Carly."

"Then your record is remarkable," Nikolas said, darkly. "You had to know this would rip her apart."

"That's between me and Carly."

"No," Nikolas crossed the few feet to where Morgan was standing, allowing himself, finally, to show a little of the rage churning inside him. "No -- when you hurt my wife, when upset her so badly that she can barely get enough breath in her to even talk about -- when you do this to her the day before she sees her son for the only four hours she gets a week -- then that's between you and me."

Jason looked up at him, impassive now. "Tell me how she is, and we have a deal."

Nikolas gave a short laugh. "I'm not negotiating with you."

"You're only keeping it to yourself because it gives you power. That's not about taking care of Carly, that's about having something you know I want. If you have her best interests at heart, prove it. Tell me how she is -- and you get my word."

"What is your word worth, Jason?" Nikolas bit out. His wife's ex-boyfriend just looked at him. Waiting. And he knew -- he didn't have a choice. He was being asked to prove that he put Carly's needs above his own -- and apparently the mere fact that he hadn't tried to strangle Jason upon entering wasn't enough. He struggled between his desire to tell this man to go to hell -- and his need for him to know, without a doubt, that Nikolas was better for Carly than he had been. And because of that, he'd do what Jason wanted.

"She lost her son..." He couldn't bring himself to say the other part of the sentence. The part that he knew was true. That she had lost Jason too. And now Robin had both. It hurt to know that, it hurt to think about it. It wasn't her fault. But it was true. "She lost her son because you wouldn't help her. Now you're going to have another child, and she still doesn't have hers. Do you really need me to answer that question?"

Jason made him wait before turning back to his desk and continuing to look for... something. "When the birth mother goes into labor, I'll let you know."

"And when the baby is born?"

"You'll know."

"Why do I get the feeling there's a catch on the end of that?"

Jason picked up a pen resting in one of the desk drawers. "Look -- Carly says she likes you," he started to scribble something down on the back of a business card. "She married you, so she must want to be with you. As long as you keep her safe -- as long as you take care of her needs -- I don't have a problem with you. If that changes... " He glanced up at Nikolas, and held out the card. "That's my number."

Nikolas felt his face heat. He snatched the card out of Morgan's hand, and when he spoke, his voice was raw and possessive.

"Carly's mine now." As he said it, he wasn't sure he believed it. "She's not your concern."

"She'll always be my concern," Jason said it with an air of resignation.

"Well, then do her a favor," Nikolas turned and started for the door. He didn't trust himself here another minute. "And keep up your concern at a distance."

Emily ran her hand over the wrought iron fence that closed in the Quartermaine mansion as she and Lucky made their meandering way back to her home. They'd talked. Once she'd made the major admission of the night -- told him the thing that was hammering away inside her -- Lucky had relaxed a little. He'd sat and listened to her talk about each family member -- how they acting, why they were driving her crazy. She spoke too fast, and she tried to steer as wide of the Michael issue as possible, but she knew conclusions were being drawn.

Now he was walking her home, and they were in silence. It wasn't awkward and it wasn't comfortable. They both knew she'd said too much, and Emily was wondering if she'd done it on purpose. Subconsciously, maybe. She was sleeping with the enemy -- in a manner of speaking. But she trusted Lucky. Even when he flat out told her not to. At that moment, she might have trusted him a little more than she did herself.

"What are you going to tell Nikolas?" she asked finally, as the approached the front gate.

Lucky wagged his head back and forth. "Depends."

"On?"

"What page he's on the next time I talk to him," he said, digging his hands into his pockets while they walked. "I think he already knows Michael's unhappy. I mean... I know where you're coming from, Em, but --" he let out his breath. "The fact that your family is crazy isn't exactly late breaking news."

"So you're not going to say anything?"

"I just... " He reached out and grabbed Emily's arm, halting her and turning her body towards him. "Hey," he bent his head to look directly into her eyes. "I want to make sure you know where I stand. I mean -- we've had some rocky communication stuff in the past."

"I know."

"Don't really want to do it again."

Emily shrugged. "We're over it."

They weren't. Not entirely. Emily knew where Lucky's priorities lay, and she wasn't as high on the list as she might have once been. She was Ok with that. Most of the time.

"Still. I wanted it on the table."

She gave a slight smile. "Ok. It's there."

A slow, lopsided grin appeared on his face, and she felt slightly better at the sight of it. "I'll let you know what I tell Nikolas -- fair?"

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, starting to walk along the fence again. "It's hard to be on both sides at once. Trust me."

"That where you are?"

Emily let out a groan. She hated to admit it, but...

"You always DO that."

A laugh. "Do what?"

"Read me," Emily glowered at him, then gave up the pretense of being annoyed. "It's just... Weird. Nikolas has been my best friend -- After you and Liz. And I've been mad at him... " she let out a quick laugh. "I'm STILL mad at him, Ok? I don't like what he's been doing or how he's been going about it -- but... I don't want to go to war with him."

"Then don't."

She stopped dead and turned back to him. "They're my family, Lucky."

"He's a Cassadine," Lucky said quietly. Emily frowned at the comment, then opened her mouth to respond, but Lucky put up a hand. "I stopped thinking that meant he was evil a long time ago. But Emily? He's still a Cassadine. If your family tries to fight him, I don't know who you'll go up against -- but it's not going to be the Nikolas you know." Emily flinched and Lucky reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her attention back to him. "It'll be full on battle gear there's-no-place-you-can-hide Prince Cassadine. And he won't be armed with a team of lawyers, or a lot of paperwork. He'll have information. He'll have the background on everyone you've ever spoken to. He'll have every tiny infraction AJ's ever been accused of. And if that doesn't work, there will be sabotage and manipulations of fact everywhere you turn. And whatever they pull... in the end, they will come out cleaner than you can imagine. If anyone in this town can scrub up my cousin's rep, it's them."

Emily felt her stomach flip over. Again. "And my family have a short trip to dirty," She put her free hand over her face. "None of this makes me feel better. "

"Yeah, probably not."

"Probably doing wonders for your mood, though."

"I don't think this is fair, Em. I never did. You know that."

"I know this isn't fair!" Emily lifted her head and pulled herself free of him. "But neither is not letting AJ know he was a father for a full YEAR of his son's life!"

"Yeah, that sucks," Lucky's voice didn't contain a lot of empathy. "But so what? It doesn't have to even out for him, Emily -- if it's about Michael, then fair isn't the point. Not to the parents. It's about the kid needs! Right? And you said -- he misses his mother."

"Michael loves AJ," she clarified, her voice leaving no room for argument. "He really LOVES AJ. He just... Sometimes he wants Carly. And you can't explain to him that she can't come and take care of him." She stopped, swearing under her breath. "God, I don't know! I mean... On Saturday, when she tried to leave -- It was horrible. I can't even think about it."

"That bad."

Emily shook her head, a bitter expression taking hold of her features. "That wasn't even the worst part." Lucky raised his brow and looked at her questioningly. She gestured with her hand helpless. "I'm sure Nikolas will tell you all about it --"

"Oh, yeah. Cause he makes a habit of confiding in me."

"Sounds like you've got more information than anyone else out there." She crossed her arms over her stomach, looking determinedly at the ground. She hadn't told this to anyone -- but to be honest, she'd probably come looking for Lucky just to get it off her chest. "Grandfather did something really stupid. And like you said -- any minute now, it's going to come crashing down on us like a brick house."

"How stupid?"

"He locked himself in a room with Carly -- AJ had to break in to get her out of there."

"Where was Nikolas?" Lucky shook his head out, answering his own question before she had a chance. "With me."

"I don't know what happened -- No one does. But Carly broke this really expensive vase, and Grandfather's been on the defensive with everyone ever since." she rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to warm herself up. She felt cold, even in the warm June night. "I can't stop thinking -- If this goes some place... You know, if Nikolas does something about it -- we're in big trouble."

Lucky was still digesting this information, the implications hitting him. "It's kidnapping, Emily!"

Her head snapped up. "He didn't try to TAKE her anywhere!"

"I don't think that matters."

"Lucky --"

"You can't be saying this is right, Em. You just can't."

"I'm not --" She let out a low groan. "Lucky, I'm so confused. I don't know what the hell to do. Things are just going to get crazier and Michael's already so upset about everything --"

"Why does your brother still LIVE there?" His voice sounded like it was flirting with a rant. "I mean -- growing up in that house didn't do him any favors!"

She slumped back against the fence. "It's complicated."

"It shouldn't be."

"Yeah, but it is," She snapped back.

Lucky turned away, pacing a few steps away from her before turning back. "You really think --" He stopped, mid-sentence and stared at her. Emily watched him, waiting for the rest of the thought. When it didn't come, she stood up, pushing herself off the fence.

"What?"

"You don't know if Carly's filing. For custody."

"No, I told you. Nothing's happened -- You said Nikolas didn't say anything!"

"He didn't," Lucky formed the words slowly. "He hasn't done anything? About what happened with Mr. Quartermaine?"

Emily looked at him oddly. "That's pretty much what I just said. Lucky, what is it?"

"Not sure..." Lucky shook his head out, and took a step back. "But, uh... If I were you? I'd be suiting up for battle, Em. This isn't gonna be pretty."

Carly heard the door to the house shut, but she didn't turn to look at her new visitor. She hoped, for a moment, that he'd shut himself out, but then she'd heard his footsteps on the stairs. The pause as he encountered the rubble that was once her tacky knickknack. Then came his voice. "You'll have to accept my apology, Caroline. When I heard he'd arrived on the island, I came to find you immediately."

Carly nodded, staring into the air in front of her. After a moment, she snapped to.

"You knew he was here?"

"He makes these visits, periodically. I should have anticipated that he'd try again. Though I expected he might use more traditional means this time."

"Like the front door."

"I was naive," He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "And I'm sorry."

She pulled the sleeves of Nikolas's shirt down, gripping the cuffs in her fists, then tucked her hands under her arms.

"I thought we were supposed to be safe here."

"And you are."

"I don't feel very safe at the moment."

He nodded, coming around the other side of the couch. "Nikolas is... out?"

She shook her head. "You know the answer to that."

"I know he departed. But that is only because of Spencer. Otherwise I would have no reason to inquire." He sat down, carefully, on the very edge of the couch. "If you'll forgive me, you look shaken by his visit."

Carly let out a high-pitched laugh. "What was your first clue?"

"I've tried to be unobtrusive. If you would like more security --"

"No," Carly struggled to sit up. "He's not dangerous. To me." She rubbed her eyes with her cloth-covered fist. "He just gives me a headache."

"Nevertheless. If you'd prefer to have company until Nikolas returns, I'm at your disposal."

She'd opened her mouth to say no. She really had. But what came out was "I don't know how long he'll be."

"That's fine."

She looked back at the door, then towards her father-in-law again. He was sitting as far from her as he could, and still be on the same piece of furniture. His hands were folded carefully on his lap, and he was looking at her with... concern. Any other time, she would have run for the room screaming. But it was late. And he looked kind, and she was so tired of people who were trying to talk to her. She curled up on the corner of the couch, tucking her legs under her, and watched him.

"It's been a long week," She said, finally. He nodded.

"Indeed."

"I'm just tired." Her voice cracked on the end of the word, and she suddenly wished Nikolas back. For the first time in days, she had a sudden desire to just hold him. For the first time in days it wasn't accompanied by a suffocating guilt. But Nikolas wasn't here, and if he had been, she probably wouldn't have been able to make herself touch him. Instead she stared into his father's eyes, and waited for him to say something more. He didn't. She turned away from him in the well-established silence, and let her head droop.

"Just stay for awhile," she murmured, quietly. "Then I'll be ok."

*** Renaldo at the door is my not-so-subtle way of saying that the car-bomb, quitting the mob thing never happened in this reality. No motorcycle mechanics in this story.