Chapter Fifty-Five:
Specters

The Zephyr was a recipe for deep relaxation. The air inside the cabin was thick -- sun-warmed and smelling of wood and water. The boat was sighing on waves, the bed was soft and comforting, and no one on earth had any clue where they were.

Which is why it was confusing, even to Carly herself, that she was not in it. Really, right now, she should be a melted puddle of goo. She had been, about half an hour earlier. It was likely, in fact, that she'd been asleep for a while, as well. She didn't remember exactly when she'd floated back to the waking world. But she'd found herself laying in the dark, her head rested on Nikolas's chest, staring into the black. Eyes wide and unblinking, her body feeling like sleep was a concept that it was entirely unfamiliar with. Payback, maybe. She'd slept whole days away the past week. Now it was something that felt entirely unfamiliar. Unattainable.

It was very early morning. She was surrounded by that kind of quiet. No signs of external life; no boaters up late, talking on the deck. No people walking along the docks. Just the creaking of the boat under her feet, and the occasional jostled ship bell in the distance. Despite the lights from the city, Carly felt very much like the only person on earth.

They had made love for hours. The need for Nikolas had been unrelenting, and his need for her matched it entirely. Even during brief recovery periods, she hadn't been able to stop touching him. Stroking his cheek, or feeling the outlines of the muscles on her chest, his arms. And kissing and kissing and kissing. . . She couldn't begin to fathom how she'd been able to close that part of herself off from him. Opening it up again, she'd felt blissfully intoxicated. Drunk. Now... she was wondering if she was fighting the beginnings of a hangover.

The sky was purple -- the city still under heavy cloud cover. She bent her head back to gaze up at the void that looked, tonight, like it had a clear and definable end. She closed her eyes and pulled the air into her lungs again and again, hoping that it would help her clear her head. Separate the feelings stirred up by the last few hours from the thoughts that were racing around her head, looking for a place to rest.

God, she missed the time when all of this had felt right. Though, she suspected, that time had only ever lasted minutes at a time.

She became distantly aware of a change... new sound, or new movement -- it wasn't something she was cognizant enough to single out -- but her eyes popped open and she looked over to see Nikolas standing in the doorway to the cabin, looking bleary and uncertain as he squinted at her in the dark.

She blinked back at him. He'd been absolutely dead to the world when she'd stolen out of their bed. That had been no more than fifteen minutes earlier.

"You're up."

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, trying to work some of the sleep-inspired roughness out of it. "So are you."

Carly's eyes trailed over his chest, down to the pants he'd thrown on before coming in search of her. "Good look for you."

"You have my shirt. Again."

She smiled slightly at him, and put her arms out. "I can take it off..."

He laughed, and bowed his head. "You'd get cold."

"Probably."

"It's warmer in here."

"I know," she said wryly, sitting down on one of the benches. "I couldn't sleep."

"Hmm," he leaned forward, hands still gripping the doorjamb. He started to speak again, then gave up on the sentence.

"I know what you're thinking," she teased.

"I'm that transparent?"

"You've had something of a one track mind tonight."

He glanced up at her. "No. Many tracks. Same train, though." He groaned, and stepped up the last step onto the deck, leaving the cabin with some reluctance. "I'm having a protocol problem."

She was occupying herself with tucking her legs up under her, carefully arranging the shirt tails. "In English?"

"Do you want to be alone?"

She frowned at the floor of the boat. "No."

"All right."

"I'm just thinking."

He nodded, walking across the deck towards the opposite bench. He studied her as he took a seat opposite to her. No matter what she said, he knew she'd come out here to be alone. That he should probably let her stay that way. It wasn't an unreasonable desire. But it was one he'd granted her so many times in the past week... He leaned forward, arms resting across his knees, and gazed across the space between them. She wasn't looking at him -- her eyes were focused on some place off in the distance. He was trying to work out the least threatening way of bringing her back to him when she spoke.

"We still haven't really talked."

"No."

"We won't, if we go back inside."

He exhaled. "No. We won't."

She smiled slightly, nodding. They lapsed into silence again. Nikolas watching her, Carly watching anything but. Her eyes skimmed over the lines of boats, the colored mast-covers. She felt herself shiver, though the air and wind weren't cold. Nikolas shifted across from her, and she finally looked over at him. He gave her a soft smile that stopped her heart, and put out his hand to her. She leaned forward, taking it eagerly. She let him pull her down onto the floor of the boat, tangling her up in his arms. She sunk back against his chest, her eyes drifting up to the sky again.

"No moon," she murmured.

He bent his head, nuzzling her neck before answering, "No stars, either."

She let her hand drift down her body until it found one of his. Her fingers threaded themselves through it, and she let out a sigh. "Do you remember the moon on the golf course?"

It took a moment for Nikolas to realize what she was talking about. "It was full."

"Almost."

"Bright."

"Yeah," she turned her head so that her cheek was pressed against the warmth of his skin. "That was three weeks ago."

"Hmmm."

"Bet you never thought we'd end up here, huh?"

He pressed his lips against the exposed skin at the base of her neck. "No."

She felt tears -- quick and hot -- fill her eyes without warning. She closed her eyes, letting them spill down her cheeks. He shifted under her, and she felt his soft touch on her forehead, pulling her hair back.

"Hey," his voice was soft and soothing. She shook her head, her body going rigid, resisting any direction to sit up, or be pulled away from him. He kept smoothing her hair -- like something she would do to calm Michael -- while his other hand rested on her hip, holding hers. "What did you want to say?" he prodded, gently.

Good question. Fair question. Not something she felt like she could answer, though. It was hard to bring up the things that were moving through her. Even lying in his arms, knowing that he had scarcely ever resisted anything she'd brought to him, she didn't feel safe saying the words. God, how was she supposed to talk to him about any of this? It all just pulled her back into the past week; into her self-involvement, her cruelty to him. It made her feel sick to her stomach now. She hated herself when she did things like that to him. That had never been a problem in her life before. But no one had ever let her see the reverberation of what she spit out at them. With Nikolas she could feel it. It was one of the few times he was clearly readable. Right after she said something designed to stab him in the heart. Given all of that -- given that, despite it, he was trying to comfort her -- how was she supposed to start talking to him about this?

"Why are you here?" she managed finally. His hand stilled a moment, and she kept every muscle tense while she waited for his answer.

"Where else would I be?"

"I don't know."

He wrapped his free arm around her, hugging her closer to him. "Do you want to tell me what's really going on?"

No. Absolutely not. Never, if I can possibly arrange it...

"The last person..." she stopped, her brain protesting. What was she doing? What the hell gave her the right to even bring this up? "Who said," deep, unsteady breath. "What you said to me... " Her throat was so tight that no matter how determined her mouth was to betray her, nothing else would come out.

Nikolas could feel pin pricks running up and down his spine. He'd been waiting for this. God knows, he didn't have it in him to bring it up again. Not that he hadn't said those three little words to her repeatedly in the last few hours. It was an addiction. He'd held them in -- used other phrases and languages, to let out the little he dared. But now that it was out; now that he knew... He couldn't seem to rein it back in. He was barely even aware that it wasn't being reciprocated. Oh, he knew that she wasn't saying it back -- but she wasn't pulling away either.

But now she was brining it up. And that meant something he'd been dreading.

"Jason."

His voice felt rough on the name, though he tried to push it out with as little inflection as possible. All things considered, the acrimony was minimal. Nonetheless, he was surprised when Carly let out a sharp laugh.

"No," she shook her head. "Not Jason. Tony."

Something -- and it's entirely possible that it was pride -- surged through Nikolas at the sound of Dr. Jones' name. Tony was the last person to claim to love her? Meaning Jason hadn't. Not even alluded to the words she must have been dying to hear from him. He shouldn't have been surprised. Robin had never said anything like that to him, either. But Jason wasn't the sort of person he thought about as being 'in love'. Some dark part of him had always believed that his declarations of love for Robin were somehow false. And that something similar must have kept Carly hanging on for more. Through the hell she'd gone through -- like nothing he and Robin had ever faced -- he'd assumed, on some level, that Jason was holding onto her somehow. But he'd never given her those words. Nikolas had.

Maybe that would make a difference to her. Maybe.

"Tony said he loved me," Carly was speaking against his chest, though her voice sounded miles away. "He even wrote me a song. He bought me an engagement ring. And that he'd take care of me," she let out her breath. "But that's not what happened."

Nikolas was nodding, trying to force himself back into the conversation. This was starting to make sense. In a loose and badly connected sort of way. "He didn't know who you were..."

"Literally."

"Caroline," his heart had picked up speed. He was struck, a moment, at how intensely stupid that particular organ was being. Even as he told himself not to read anything into this, the excitement was grabbing hold of him. "Caroline," his hand moved up to cup her chin and tilt her face up to his. She followed the lead, and stared up into his eyes. He smiled. He couldn't help it. "This is different."

He was blurred by the tears resting in her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying to bring him into focus.

"Things change, Nikolas."

"You keep saying that --"

"And you keep pretending it's not true!" She felt a surge of frustration, and managed to free herself from his grip enough to push herself up. "Things CHANGE. People start to want different things, or they get bored, or they just..." she shook her head. "I don't know. They snap out it! They fall out of love."

She could tell by the look on Nikolas's face -- that set, determined, I-have-seen-the-face-of-God-and-know-the-truth-therin, look he got when she tried to explain this to him -- that he was not buying. She had married the most stubborn man on earth, she thought. He just kept proving that.

"Not this," he said, with a characteristic lack of uncertainty. "Not this kind of love. Not me."

"Uh huh."

"I'm serious."

She narrowed her eyes at him. If he would just once admit that there was a reason for her to be worried about this -- If he would just freakin' give up the authoritarian attitude and admit that there were variables in stuff like this -- she could relax. But he wouldn't. She was beginning to believe that he'd insist that he loved her when he started to hate her, just because he would never admit to being wrong.

"Fine," she said, straightening up and tossing her trump card on the table. "What about Robin."

Swing and a miss. He just looked at her blankly.

"What about her?"

"You love her!" Her hand swatted his arm in emphasis. "Or you sure as hell did a month ago --"

"I never said that."

"Oh, come on. It was more than implied."

His eyes had been fixed on hers -- engaged in an unofficial staring contest. She saw him waver a second and felt a terrifying mix of triumph and crushing disappointment.

"I did," he admitted.

"See?" Carly lifted her chin defiantly, her body language taunting 'told you so', while her gut twisted into hard knots.

"Or," Nikolas's face had heated and his eyes darted away. It was hard to tell her this. Maybe even harder than just blurting those words out had been. "I... Had feelings for her." He took a breath. "They were... strong. I thought it was love."

She was going to cry. She really was. She was winning the argument, and right now, hot pokers would have been a welcome alternative. "And that's what you think this is."

He smiled slightly. A pure, bordering on happy smile. No hint of irony anywhere. "I never felt like this about Robin."

She leaned back from him, her body jerking away like he's just threatened to hurt her. He couldn't watch that. He just couldn't deal with the look on her face, but he couldn't seem to turn away, either. She stayed perfectly still, then he felt her hand close around his. He grabbed on, holding this small part of her tightly. It was something. That was why he couldn't seem to pull himself off this path he was on. She kept giving him things. Little things, things that weren't "I'm just not ready for things to be on this level."

"What do you mean?" she asked, numbly.

"I mean," he cleared his throat, hard. "I didn't feel about Robin the way I do about you."

She just stared at him, so he forced himself to continue. "I always wanted more from her. I got... nothing. Bread crumbs. And I hung on for more -- it was a focus. After awhile, anything I got..."

"Felt like a feast," Carly murmured. Too familiar.

He nodded slightly. "I thought she was what I wanted."

"And you couldn't get her," she was staring down at her hands, now. She wished she had something to play with. A drink or something. A distraction. "But you could get me."

"No," his voice was sharp and hard. "I mean..." he turned his head away from her. This felt so jumbled, the way it was coming out. But it was crystal in his mind. It always had been. "It wasn't that."

"Then what was it?"

He felt her squeeze his hand. Just softly -- unconsciously. He swore softly and let his eyes close.

"I don't want to scare you."

She laughed, humorlessly. "You keep saying that."

"You didn't want to hear this. The other night --"

"I want to hear it now." Oh, God help me...

Nikolas hated feeling this way. He hated the detached, floating feeling. The way he didn't feel entirely there. This wasn't how things like this were supposed to happen. In other people's lives, they'd be able to look at each other. They'd be aware and connected... He didn't feel connected right now -- to her, to himself. But he had to say this to her. He had to get her to understand.

"I've never felt like this about anyone," he ran out of air, and paused to try to fill his lungs to bursting. "Ever. I never thought about Robin the way I think about you, I never felt this... ache for her. It was for someone. I know that now. I wanted someone, something -- I wanted more than I had, and I'm impatient. I'm not someone who's in any way accustomed to having to wait for what he wants. With you... It's just different. It has to be you," he looked back at her. She'd raised her head, and was staring at him with something that might have been horror. "Do you understand?" he asked, searching her face for any sign of recognition. "It's not just wanting to connect with someone, or to touch, or talk or sleep with someone. It's wanting you. No one else."

She looked like she was about to bolt, and his hand reached out and grabbed her around the waist, trying to hang onto her. Every second of this was torture. Just waiting for the moment when she'd push him away, when she'd laugh at him, or bring up the fact that she was in love with someone else.

But that wasn't what happened. In fact, it wasn't even something close to being on Carly's mind. She was just watching him, feeling that open, gaping hole inside her like it was coming from him. Again. She'd felt that so clearly, the last few hours. She dove, suddenly, towards him, her mouth grabbing his. He made a noise of surprise, which quickly gave way as he started to kiss her back. His hands coming up to hold her, to keep her close, until she suddenly pulled back. Even then, he pulled her closer to him, hugging her tightly like he was afraid to let go.

"I love you," he whispered feverishly against her ear. "I know it. I can feel it -- I have this hunger for you that just doesn't end --"

She pushed away from him, suddenly, her voice agonized. "That's called lust!"

"No!" he nearly shouted back at her. "No, that's not it. Sex isn't enough. God, nothing is enough." He let his thumb trace along her jaw. Stared at it, as he spoke. "I know this is fast. I know it's a lot --"

"We barely know each other!"

"Stop saying that!" he looked up at her, again. "What is there left to know? What, Carly? You have stories I haven't heard; I know that. I do, too. But I know... I know things." His eyes met hers and his voice went soft. Private. "About you. What you've told me, what you've shown me. I know some of it you didn't want me to see -- but I did. And I love you. I can't stop."

"Why?"

He was short of breath. "What?"

"Why?" she demanded, her eyes wide. "What IS it? The temper tantrums? The verbal abuse? The freeze-out in the bedroom? What IS it that makes you think you need this?"

"Everything," he said, his eyes searching hers. God forgive him, but Carly's terror always banished his. Every time she looked scared, he felt himself calm. "It's the way you never flinch when I tell you something I know I can't say to anyone else. Or how you feel about your son. The fact that... That you boiled hot water so that I could shave! You swallowed seeds out of a pomegranate --"

"That's not ANYTHING, Nikolas --"

"It IS to me!" His grip on her increased, holding her head still, forcing her to look at him. "God, I know I've been waited on hand and foot my entire life... but those people are paid for the privilege. They do what I ask because it's their job. They pay attention to what I need because if they don't..." his mouth twisted, bitterly. "I'm a Cassadine. No one wants to know what happens if they don't. Fear and duty aren't the reasons I want for people to care about what happens to me. But that's what it's always been," he choked, suddenly, on the beginnings of a sob -- until then, Carly hadn't even noticed the tears in his eyes. She felt herself crumble as his words, shaky and uncertain, poured out of him. "That's not what it is for you. Is it?"

"No," she said without hesitation. "Nikolas --"

"Then it's something else."

She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his again. She pulled back quickly, before he could respond.

"I'm terrified," she hiccuped. Tears were starting their way down her face, yet again. "I'm so scared I can't even..." she shook her head, hard. "It's not you. I'm not scared of you."

"Then what?"

She groaned, digging her fist into her abdomen. "Nikolas."

"Tell me!"

She struggled with herself, with that tight, clenched feeling in her chest. "The last man who said that to me changed his mind."

He shook his head, firmly. "My mind has nothing to do with this."

"Oh," she spit out a laugh. "That's good to know."

"No," he kept pushing. "I never decided to love you. There was no analytical deliberations. I just fell in love!"

"HOW?" she demanded again. There had to be a reason. There had to be more than hot water, Damn it. And he wouldn't admit what was standing there between them like a big pink elephant. She had SEX with him. That was what he got from her that he hadn't gotten from Robin. God, why wouldn't he just ADMIT that?

"I don't know," he fired back. "I can't remember not being in love with you! I know that a month ago I wasn't. But my brain can't comprehend it. It feels like it's always been this way. Even when we weren't together... When we didn't know each other." He stopped, fighting for breath. His face was flushed and he fought to calm down. "A month ago -- I didn't know you existed. Not really. And I guess I wasn't in love with you. And now I am and it feels like it's always been that way. Like you were what I was waiting for."

She opened her mouth to fight him on it, but all that came out was a strangled keening sound. She snapped her mouth shut, feeling herself begin to shake. No. No, don't listen to him, don't do anything stupid and ...

"It's been so hard," she bowed her head. It was swimming -- everything was swimming. "My life has been NOTHING. There wasn't anything for so long -- and then you come into the middle of it, and ... " she snapped her head up again. "What am I supposed to do, Nikolas? I haven't felt anything for so long, how am I supposed to just go back to being what I was before?

"I don't love what you were before! I love this. I love what I met, what you are --"

"You can't love this!" she yelled at him. "You can't. You can't be in love with someone who can't get out of bed in the morning, you bites your head off if you try to talk to her --"

"But I do." He said it quietly, dropping his voice down into his chest. The tone, the quality, stopped her dead. "Nothing changed when that started. I hated it -- I'm not going to pretend I didn't. But God, Carly... that's not YOU. You have to know that."

"Then who the hell IS it?" She hit his chest, halfheartedly. "Who do you think it is?"

"What you said it was," he caught her wrist, lowering her hand and pressing it against his stomach. To the place she'd touched in him earlier. "It's this. It's feeling like something inside of you is missing -- or it's been ripped out of you. It's being scared of having someone do that to you again --" He was surprised to hear that come out of his mouth. He hadn't even known he was aware of that, that he understood it, until he said it and saw the shock and recognition on her face. "We're the same. You feel that now, don't you?"

She didn't say anything, just looked at him with her lips parted. Then she started to shake her head. "No."

"Carly, please --"

"You don't know!" she cried out. "What it was like for me... When we were living here. When you'd leave -- It felt awful, Nikolas. You'd leave, and I just felt so empty --" she stopped dead, seeing something she didn't like at all, in his eyes. "See? You like that!"

"No --"

"Oh, come on! I can see the look on your face --"

"All right," he gave in. "In some perverse way... Yes. I like that you missed me. I like the fact that when I left and devoted whole days to the simple task of tearing my mind away from you, that you were thinking about me, too. I'm sorry. Maybe that makes me a bastard..." he gave a slight smile. "But then, the whole town's been clear on that a couple of years now." She let out a sharp, surprised laugh at that, and he looked blissfully agonized by it. "See? I love that you laugh at that. Usually I get stern looks. Or it makes people uncomfortable."

"You forget," she said, sardonically. "I'm a bastard, too."

"It's not a great tragedy," he murmured. "I wouldn't have cared if I'd known the truth. It's the lie that messed it all up."

"To hear your father tell it, without the lie, you wouldn't be alive to not care."

Nikolas's expression darkened immediately. He opened his mouth to respond, to protest, but stopped himself. Not a good time to get sidetracked.

"He's told you that."

"So did you," she shifted, uncomfortably, trying to pull her hand away from him. He pulled her back.

"I missed you, too," he said, leaning forward so that his breath brushed over her skin. "This whole week, it felt like I was losing you --" he felt his throat constrict, and tried to shake it off. "It felt like... You were gone."

"I can't say that's over."

"It could be," he argued. "If we try... If the next time you feel like that, you just let me --"

"What? What do you think you could do?"

"Talk to you. Hold you. Anything, Caroline. Do you get that? I'll do whatever you want me to --" Oh, hell. There must be some rule, somewhere, about actually saying that to someone. He felt his heart catapult against his breastbone the second the sentence was out of his mouth. But he just kept opening himself up. "I just want to help you. And I can. If you let me."

"You're really sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"I need this," he whispered to her, intently. "I can't live without it, now. I can't stop feeling the way I do, or wanting what I want."

"And what do you want?" She pushed back, shaking her head with impatience, frustration at herself. "How are you doing this? I haven't said a word back. I haven't offered you one damn thing!"

"So?"

"So!?!" She looked at him in amazement. "So that's how this is supposed to work! You love me, I ..."

"Love me back?" he cut her off.

She shifted uncomfortably. "Well. Yeah."

He stared down at her, eyes looking uncommonly dark, before he spoke again. "I don't believe in fairy tales," he said, quietly. "I had my moments of intense naivete -- I had times when I thought I was getting a happy ending. I grew up."

"And what?"

"And I figured out that life doesn't work like that. And... If you never..." He stopped again. Stared hard at nothing. "People don't love equally. Nothing is ever equal -- you can't measure something like this. If I love you more -- that's the way it is. If we're together..." he stopped, shaking his head. He wasn't going to get anymore out.

Carly really couldn't believe what she was hearing. If he loved her more? How was that possible? How on earth could Nikolas Cassadine ever... She closed her eyes, her brow furrowed. He really believed what he was saying. She knew that. If she knew anything, it was that he was saying what he thought was true. She just couldn't understand how he was arriving at these conclusions.

"You deserve more than this," she muttered.

"Do I deserve you?"

Her eyes popped open, and she looked up at him in shock. "Most people wouldn't wish me on their worst enemy!"

"Most people are small minded fools," he said, darkly. "And it doesn't matter how I feel about you, or how you feel about me. It doesn't matter what we decide is right or wrong by some doctrine our parents taught us. We're married," he brought her hand up together, twisting it together with his, so that their rings bumped against each other. "To death do us part. That's the rest of our lives," he gave that a moment to sink in -- for both of them. Promises they'd made, words that they'd said, repeating after some man neither of them had ever seen before or would ever see again. "Do you think I have one foot out the door? Do you think I ever will? I'm in this for LIFE, Carly. That's what marriage is."

"In one in two cases," she said, her voice raising up in pitch as she stared at their hands.

"I would never leave you," he insisted, leaning closer to her. "It's not something that you have to think about. No matter what is going on with us -- we're in it together. That's why we made those vows. It's why the last week isn't going to be anything but a footnote. You don't have to hide who you are -- I'm with you, no matter what. Understand that, if nothing else. You. Have. Me."

Her eyes searched his, even though she knew that she wouldn't find anything there but intense determination. That was what he was like. And she was beginning to know that -- three weeks? He was right. She'd never known anyone the way she'd started to know him. Not this fast. It made her head spin.

"I have to know," she swallowed hard. "I have to know that what you think is happening to you -- " the tears came on fast and her voice broke. "Is real. I have to believe it --"

"You will."

"I can't take your word for it!" she protested. "God, Nikolas -- you already have whatever it is I have left. It's not a whole lot, but I don't have anything else to give you!"

"It's enough," his heart was starting to pound again. "Anything is enough! The possibility is enough. If you think you can --"

"I know I will!" she burst out. "That's what makes this so awful. I know it's something that's doomed to happen --" she saw him flinch at the word. "Will you look at yourself? Anyone given half a chance would fall like a ton of bricks -- and I can't fall again. I've already gone down too many times. It would be like drowning."

He resisted the urge to point out how wrong what she was saying was. To tell her that no one else had ever even spoken to him about falling. What she was saying was too important. Right now, it was worth more than anything he could think of. Even the idea of her actually saying the words to him.

"But eventually," he tried to clarify. To ensure that she was really saying what he thought he was hearing. "You could."

"I don't know," she wiped at her eyes, hands shaking. "I don't know what would happen if I did."

"I'd love you back. Forever," he brushed her hair back from her face. "We'd be happy."

A shudder ran through her. "That scares the hell out of me."

"Me, too."

She nodded, gripping his hand. "You get it," she admitted, finally. "You do."

"I didn't tell you I loved you to pressure you," he said, lowering his head towards hers. "I said it because I thought you needed to know. All I need..." his fingers brushed her cheek, and she raised her eyes to his in response. "I need to know there's a possibility. And I need you not to make me take it back."

Confusion descended on her. "What?"

"I don't want to pretend I don't feel like this."

She was still looking at him like he was out of his mind. "How the hell could you do that?"

"I couldn't," he breathed. And she wondered how he could love her? This. That she understood why it was impossible. That it was beyond her to ask him to take it back. "I can live with this," he murmured. "If I can have this... what we have right now. I can wait for everything else."

She leaned forward, her body pressing back against him, her head tucking itself in the crook of his neck. "You shouldn't have to."

"I don't want you to say you love me because you think you have to," he said, dropping his head to speak to her confidentially. "I want you to say it because you can't keep it inside anymore. I want it to be true, I want it to be something that you feel all through yourself..." Because that was what it was for him. And there was no denying, he wanted that back. He'd wait forever for it, if he had to.

"You really think that's ok."

"I really do."

He was insane. And God, she'd known that from the beginning. It would be so easy if she could just guarantee that he'd stay insane. She lifted her head and stared at his beautiful face -- dark eyes, set jaw. So sure of himself. Of them. Refusing to look at the thousand reasons why they weren't going to work. Why this was going to end up gutting both of them. She felt herself flush hot at that -- gut both of them. That look on his face... for a minute she did believe it. That he was just stubborn or crazy enough to refuse to look at this from any other angle. It could happen, she thought, suddenly. It was a dangerous idea. But it was within the realm. She settled herself against him again, feeling his arm come up around her waist and hug her to him.

He felt like this right now. She didn't know how long it would last, but it felt so good... if she just let go for a second, and let herself feel him... she was infused with warmth. She felt safe, and loved, and.... Oh, God, why was she fighting it? Why couldn't she just let go and try it out. Just for a little while. Pretend she wasn't crazy, that she was actually who he kept saying she was. What was the worst that could happen?

She stopped her brain short of giving the auto-response.

Her fingers were trailing down his breastbone, and he let his eyes close, leaning back into the fiberglass wall of the cockpit. "I want to start over," she murmured to him. He let out his breath, before the words really hit home.

"What?"

"Do this again," her hand was wandering lower, and his thoughts inevitably started to cloud. "I don't want to keep doing what we were doing. All of this fighting, and... all of it." she edited out the word 'crazy'. She wasn't sure what she was suggesting, but she knew that the idea of getting back on the merry-go-round they'd been on the last few weeks was going to make her feel sick. "I want a do-over."

He lowered his head and breathed in the scent of her hair. It smelt the same as it had that first night. Lying in her bed after making love to her for the first time. Gathering her body up against his weak and staggered form. He closed his eyes and let himself drift back to that again. It felt different, right now, though. She was turned into him, instead of rolling away. Her hands were tracing the lines of his body.

"Where do we start?"

She smiled slightly. "Right here," she decided. It made sense. It was where he proposed. Where he'd turned her life upside down and shaken it to it's core. "I Caroline take you Nikolas Supercalifragalistix --"

"You forgot Mikhail."

"Whatever," she said, her voice sounding light and airy, in complete contrast to her body, which was turning into wet cement. Sleep was finally coming on. If it was because she felt safe, or just because she just wanted to avoid the whole conversation they just had, she decided to pursue it all the same. "I take you. You take me."

He closed his eyes. "Yes."

"Forever. Until rabid dogs rip us apart..."

His eyes opened again. "What?"

"It could happen."

"It would take more than rabid dogs."

"You're always so optimistic," she yawned.

"I'd never let rabid dogs get near you."

She blinked her eyes open, and tilted her head up

"I'm in sooo much trouble," she murmured looking up at him. He allowed himself a smile, and she reached up, touching his full lips with her finger tips. She felt too lightheaded to resist anymore tonight. She leaned in and kissed him again -- her lips skimming his, then delving deeper. His hand sunk into her hair, holding her close to him. She let her body do what it wanted to -- arch into his, press closer to him. They kissed until the end became necessary. Until they both needed air, and pulled away panting.

"Now what?" she asked, lifting heavily lidded eyes to his. He looked back at her, his expression equally glazed.

"We start over," he bent down and kissed her again. "And we do it right."