Chapter Fifty-Seven:
In My Life

Lupe Da Silva was sitting up in her hospital bed, eyes wide and fixed on the far wall, hand holding onto her Aunt Graciela's for she was worth. Graciela, for her part, was sitting beside the young girl, hand gently stroking her hair, whispering to her softly in Spanish. It wasn't the sort of expectant Mom scene that you saw much of on television. There was no hint of excitement, apprehension, or even that over-the-top sitcom fury women pelted their doting husbands with. Granted -- there was no husband here.

What they did have was terror. Cold hard fear so thick, Robin felt like she had to cut a path from the door to the girl's bed. It made her stomach knot. Pushed out her own fatigue and devastation and took over. She'd had this empty, hollowed out feeling breeding inside her for several days now. Since her conversation with Carly. This quiet, sad, still feeling. She'd kept trying to get angry. She'd sat in her room at Uncle Mac's trying to work up a good rage. But all she came up with was more quiet. She'd just been starting to force out a good sound bite of rage, and into the middle of it all had come this news. Baby on the way.

A part of her -- a huge part of her -- was unbelievably grateful. And that part welcomed the waves of compassion that Lupe always stirred in her. God, this poor girl. She could never look at her -- look at those big eyes in that incredibly young face and not think 'the poor girl'. She gave a pained and sympathetic smile as Lupe turned to look at her, and lay her hands lightly on the bar that lined the bed.

"Hi, Lupe," she said softly. "How're you doing?"

Lupe winced at the question, and put a hand over her stomach. She was a small girl, so thin that her pregnancy looked all the more outrageous. Unbelievable, really. Like she was suffering from some horrible disease, rather than creating a life.

"Lastima."

"Sé," Robin nodded, something in her clicking into 'help' mode. This was something she'd always been able to do. Pull it together in a crisis. She was at her best when there was someone in need right in front of her. When there was a problem she knew she could help with -- or solve. Blame it on a childhood spent in peril -- it felt like home. "Usted necesita algo?"

The girl shook her head, and lay back against the pillows. She turned her dark eyes on Robin and whispered her next words. "I should practice my English."

Robin nodded, agreeing readily. She knew that it calmed Lupe down. It was the cover story. That she was up here on an exchange to polish her English. And she was studying -- Jason has a tutor working with her, and Robin had also pitched in a little during their visits. The girl was always far more willing to talk about everything if she could pass it off as practicing. She hated questions about her health -- hated, in fact, going out in public, once her pregnancy became unavoidably noticeable. She holed up in Graciela's apartment, studying and counting off the days until she could put this whole thing behind her.

Graciela had told them a bit about Lupe's father. Very successful, very strict business man. Her sister had married well -- on paper, at least. Lived on a large vineyard in Chile. Had six children, Lupe being somewhere in the middle. They were a very respectable family living a very respectable life and that reputation was very valuable to Lupe's father. Nothing specific was said about what would happen if Mr. Da Silva knew of his daughter's condition. But considering the lengths everyone was going to in order to keep him in the dark... One could assume it wasn't going to be a show of fatherly love and devotion.

So Mr. Da Silva thought Lupe was away at school. Incredible opportunity, he was told. Could make inroads that would last a life time. And apparently Lupe had been good at school. She did seem to have a knack for some things -- Math, particularly. Her language skills weren't that strong, but she was determined that she go home fluent so that no one would ever question where she'd been and what she'd been doing.

Robin didn't like to speculate about how Lupe's pregnancy had come to be. For starters, she was still a child. Barely physically capable of conceiving a child. Secondly... She didn't seem to want to have anything to do with it. Showed no interest in the child's development or health. Robin had gone to every doctors appointment with her since she'd come the US. Held her hand and tried to talk to her about what was going to happen -- how the baby was. Lupe always stared at the wall with dead eyes. She didn't want to talk about the child. She didn't, it seemed, want to admit any of this was happening to her. She always said to Robin, "You'll take it?" -- never "You'll take care of her." They'd known the sex for months, but Lupe hadn't seemed moved by it. She was never very touched by anything that made the child a 'person'. Robin always felt like she was reliving Lupe of a huge burden. And even though they had offered over and over again to let Lupe be a part of the little girl's life, she never did more than look nervous and reiterate that it was important that no one else find out about the baby. They'd left it open, in the end. Robin had said that if she ever changed her mind, she'd always know how to contact them. She promised that wouldn't change.

The other thing that was 'off' about Lupe became apparent every time she was in a room with Jason. Lupe didn't take to him. More than that, she seemed to be scared of him. She had thanked him 'for his kindness and generosity' when she'd first arrived. -- When she was just a problem he was helping his housekeeper solve. Before the whole thing had taken on new dimensions -- But she had done it without looking directly at him. Jason, for his part, kept his distance, and didn't comment much on the girl's behavior. He was pretty matter-of-fact about it. She was scared of him. He made her uncomfortable. That was the end of it for him. He respected her fear and didn't force himself into the situation. Which, Robin had to admit, made her feel lonely. In a way, she felt like she was doing this alone. Like Jason was holding himself miles away from what was happening.

Even now, he stood by the door. He hadn't come into the room with her. And Robin didn't want to turn around and check on him. She knew, instinctively -- and maybe from the way Lupe was holding herself -- that he wasn't in sight. He'd probably stayed in the hall -- or maybe he'd watched her greet Lupe, and had just left.

She didn't want to know the answer to that. She didn't want to think about any of it further. This was a hard situation. She was good at hard situations. After all -- this was what she'd been raised for.

"We can practice a little, if you'd like," Robin forced a smile in the prospective mother's direction. "We can just talk. What do you want to talk about?"

It was edging towards noon. A day well underway. A warm beam of sunlight cut it's way from the open window, across the hardwood floor, and across the foot of the bed. Nikolas rolled over, onto his side, head propped up on his hand. His eyes traveled down his wife's spine, then he repeated the action with the tips of his fingers. Carly let out soft sigh, and cuddled closer to the pillow she had her arms wrapped around. He leaned over and placed a kiss at the base of her neck. She smiled.

"You're insatiable..."

He brushed her hair to one side, and pressed his lips against the skin he'd just exposed.

"Are you sure you don't want to do something today?"

"Hmmm. We are doing something."

He sighed, sliding across the minimal space between them and wrapping his arm around her waist. "I'm not complaining," he murmured into her shoulder. "I'm really not complaining."

"But."

He tried not to answer. Eyes closed, arms around her, he tried to just stay still. It was a valiant effort. He lasted at least a few seconds.

"Are you sure --"

"Nikolas!"

"What?"

Carly groaned and lifted herself up on her forearms, giving him a serious look. "You have a problem."

He rolled over onto his back, putting an arm over his eyes. He did. He really did. "I just -- This feels wrong." As the words left his lips, he felt her slide closer to him. Her foot teasingly stroked his calf while she lifted his arm off his face, pushing it back onto the pillow. He sighed, then opened his eyes to her. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?"

She laughed. God, had he missed that laugh. Light, and unaffected. It made him smile.

"People do this," she reassured him, moving her palm in circles over his chest. "They spend whole days in bed. Particularly at the beginning..." she leaned forward, brushing her lips over his. "Of a very young..." grabbed his lips in a too-quick kiss, "Physically intense..." another one -- Nikolas attempted to draw her into something deeper, but she pulled back. "Relationship..." she let him pull her down then. Kiss her, slow and lazy. When it broke, she grinned at him. "Particularly on honeymoons."

He shook his head. It wasn't like he was opposed to the idea. Not in theory. "I have never, ever, spent an entire day in bed," he stretched. "Well. Apart from illness and hospital stays."

"Oh, but this is so much more appealing."

"It's..." his eyes closed as she started to nuzzle his neck. "Better."

She nipped at his skin. "Just 'better'?"

"I don't have a headache..." He turned to kiss her, but she immediately pulled away, pushing against his chest so that she was hovering over him again. She was trying to drive him crazy. He was sure of it.

She cocked her head to one side. "Just try it. Just... Do nothing. For five minutes." He made a face. "It'll be good for you."

He reached up, threading his fingers through her hair. "Will you do nothing with me?" He did his best to look martyred. "I need moral support."

"You ARE pathetic," she rolled her eyes. "Give me your watch."

He glanced over to the bedside table, and attempted to reach for it, without moving from beneath her. She leaned over him, grabbing it as his fingers fumbled with the strap. She studied it a moment, and when Nikolas tried to sit up, she pushed him back onto the bed.

"Stay."

"I'm not going --"

She put up a hand. "Ok.... Five.... Starting NOW."

He just looked at her.

"Now?"

"No talking. You're doing nothing."

He opened his mouth to protest, then let it close again. Right. Nothing.

It was amazing how hard that was.

Carly studied him a moment, and when it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything, she lay down against his chest -- snuggling up to him, her eyes fixed on his watch while he lay still beneath her. He inched his hand across the bed, and slid around her waist, holding her to him. He let his eyes close, turning his face into her hair, spread across his shoulder, spilling onto his pillow. He breathed in.

It really wasn't that he didn't want to do this. It wasn't like he wanted to get dressed, to go out in the world and do something. Put space and social construct between them. He wasn't bored. He was... content.

Nikolas didn't DO content.

Being still -- truly still -- wasn't something he'd ever mastered. The appearance of it -- definitely. But just lying here, holding her and doing nothing else... giving in to the promise of lying here, holding her, and doing nothing else -- not fighting something off, not trying to plot his next move, their next move. Not talking, not working on something, just... lying here. Holding her. Loving her. It was something he wanted more than he had words or breath to explain. And having it was one of the hardest things he'd ever experienced. All he could do was fight off the nagging feeling that kept trying to wrestle it's way to the top.

What happened when he didn't have this anymore?

He squeezed his eyes shut. Come on. He could do this. Don't think about it. Stay in the moment. If you can do tai chi, you can do this. Just stay still and don't think about how she feels, how she smells -- how much you want her, need her and oh GOD, love her. His chest was tightening steadily. He wanted to shake himself -- push all of this off -- but he didn't want to move. To disturb her or... cue her in. He was being ridiculous. He knew that. She was here. She was here, she wasn't going anywhere.

"Time."

Oh, thank God.

"Already," he said, thickly, before pulling half the air in the room into his lungs.

"See?" she tipped her chin up to look at him. "Not so hard."

He gazed down at her. Smiling, open face. Bright brown eyes. Amazing, kissable mouth...

"We can take a walk..."

She dropped her head, grinding it against his chest in frustration. "You're impossible!"

"I try." She had no idea how much.

"Nikolas," she rolled away from him, tossing a smirk in his direction as she settled back onto her side of the bed. "You don't have the energy to take a walk."

His eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

She glanced over at him, and he watched her fight against a smile. "You heard me."

"Take that back."

"Or?"

She let out a screech as he moved for her, sinking down into the bed, laughing as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head. He took her mouth again. Kissing her over and over again, until he heard her moan. Now . . . this was easy. This he could do forever.

"Caroline," he murmured, skimming her lips with his. "I have vestiges of energy you haven't even begun to exhaust."

"Jason."

Robin had come out of the room and stopped short when she saw Jason leaning, back against the wall, next to the door. He had his hands dug deep into the pockets of his leather jacket -- something he'd taken to wearing when he wasn't on 'official' business. Comfort, she guessed. There was something stubborn in him that had a hard time letting go of his inner thug. Occasionally she suspected it was more than a dislike of Mob Boss clothes.

She shook that thought off -- there was something about it that she didn't like -- and stepped out of the doorway, out of Lupe and Graciela's sight.

"Thanks for leaving," she shifted her weight and looked down at the tile. "For Lupe, I mean."

He gave a half shrug. "We said we'd give her what she needs."

"Yeah. We did," she took a breath. "Jason --"

He tipped his head up, eyes squeezed shut. "What?"

She stared at him a moment, then turned, out of habit, to look down the hall. It was empty.

"Where's Renaldo?"

"Around the corner," Jason was speaking from between clenched teeth.

"Oh."

"Lupe's got a thing about big men -- I don't want her scared."

Robin felt a twinge. She put her hand over her stomach. "I know that can't be easy --"

"It's not my problem, Robin."

"I know, but --"

Jason turned, finally, and looked at her. "I'm doing what I said I would. I don't need to talk about it, I don't need to feel bad about it. Whatever happened to Lupe, it wasn't me that did it to her."

"I know that."

"You don't have to feel guilty about it, either."

"I'm not."

His eyes traced over her, narrowing. "You better go back in there."

"You never said you knew something happened to her --"

"It's not a big leap."

"No," Robin played with her necklace. "I just worry for her. Going back to whatever --"

"Don't."

She glanced up at him. He looked down at her, his eyes dark, and she backed away from the statement like it was a live grenade.

"Ok," she swallowed. Hard. "She's... Uh. She's nearly dilated. I'm going to stay with her, but --"

"I'll take a walk."

"Jason. You don't have to do that."

He was already a few steps down the hall. He turned back and looked at her, his features etched into a deep frown. He put his hands out without taking them out of his pockets.

"I won't go far."

"Oh my God..."

"You said that already."

Carly let out a breathless laugh, and opened her eyes. She blinked a few times before Nikolas came into focus. He was supporting himself on one elbow, while his eyes feasted on the complete mess he'd made of her. She shook her head slightly.

"You look proud of yourself..."

"You look flushed," Nikolas murmured, gently pushing her damp hair away from her face. She barely managed to glare at him.

"...And smug."

He grimaced, then bent to lay lingering kisses along her neck and collar bone. She felt him exhale against her skin before resting his head on her shoulder. He let seconds drag by before he spoke.

"Do you have any idea how long it's been since there has been anything in my life for me to be smug about?"

His voice sounded distant and disembodied. Carly let her finger tips graze his spine as they moved up his back, and then buried them into his hair. She felt his body sigh against her -- relax and mold to hers -- before he suddenly lifted himself away from her, and dropped onto his back. Another abrupt and restless move. That seemed to be happening a lot today. She watched him a moment, then slid across the small space between them. His arm reached out for her automatically, and she curled up against him -- head tucked under his chin, one arm holding his rib cage. It was becoming a familiar posture, and something in her was unprepared for how easily they moved into it. It was nearly perfect. It would be perfect. If she could just let go of one little thing.

He hadn't said anything in twenty-four hours, but... it was still out there. It always would be. I love you. There was one thing she just couldn't seem to shake -- not with time, or reassurances from all corners. This feeling of being ... uneven. Of receiving over and over again, without giving a damn thing. It was a foreign concept -- she was skilled at finding all possible avenues of victimization. She was so used to feeling hard done by, she didn't know what to do with... whatever this was. How did you react to someone who gave you everything you needed? Who seemed to be able to do it before you even worked out that you wanted it? Particularly when you have this gnawing awareness that you're not giving much back. That you can't give back the thing you know they need.

She didn't want to turn into the sort of person who had to define and equalize everything that happened between the two of them. She didn't want to obsess about it, either. She was sane enough -- in this moment, at least -- to know that he didn't want that. And for some reason, what he wanted kept gaining in importance for her. She felt a constant tug to do something for him. Even if it was small. To just reach out and let him know... That she cared. That he was important.

Even if she could barely stand the realization herself.

"Nikolas..." she turned her face into his chest, pressing her lips to his breast bone. He made a slight sound and she closed her eyes, stealing herself. "I love the way you touch me."

She felt herself flush, even at that admission. Couldn't bring herself to open her eyes, or search for any sort of reaction. After a moment, she felt him shift beneath her.

"I know."

Her eyes flew open, and she sat up immediately, staring down at him. "There it is something to this arrogance charge, isn't there?"

"I know that, too," he reached out and pulled her down again to him again, resting it on his shoulder. She submitted, mostly because she had no idea what else to do. But her eyes remained open, fixed on the wall. After a moment, she heard him murmur something -- quiet, almost inaudible. "I like touching you."

"See," she let herself smile. "I was clear on that part." He gave a slight shrug, and she combed his hair back from his face, the same way he had with her, earlier. "You didn't, always."

"I did so, always," he muttered, his voice thickened by fatigue that he must have been staving off somehow.

She looked away. Interesting theory. True 90% of the time. But. Sometimes... "You needed some encouragement."

"I know," his eyes opened. Stared at the ceiling a long moment before finishing his thought. "I don't like not being good at something."

"Excuse me?" Carly let out a quick laugh of shock. "You've always been good at this."

He gave her a skeptical look. "Carly."

"No, I'm serious! There has never been any bad. There has only been varying degrees of mind blowing."

He cracked up at that, turning his face away from her. "You're very kind."

"No I'm not," she shot back. "There are three things I pretty much never am. On time, well-behaved, and kind."

"You have your moments."

"This isn't one of them," she frowned, her eyes searching his. Something was... weird. Ok -- so the whole conversation was weird. But something else. His demeanor. She couldn't read it -- not news. But it was different than his usual blank look. The one that he put on, it seemed, when he wasn't ready to put an emotional reaction out there. The one she'd seen when he'd run into Luke at her mothers. Or at the Nurse's Ball, where... Bad line of thought. Point was -- this was different. This was an expression that seemed to mean something. She just wasn't sure what.

"You were always..." her voice drifted off, as she let herself get lost in thought. Things she'd worked hard to try to forget. Things that had brought her here, as much as anything else. The gentle way his fingers massaged the back of her neck when he kissed her. Or how he always ran his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand. The fact that he'd pulled her out of a window, once, and she hadn't even noticed until she'd felt her feet hit the ground.

As if on cue, Nikolas reached up, threading his fingers through her hair. "What's so funny?"

She furrowed her brow. "I'm not laughing."

"You've got this very ominous smile on your face," he reached up and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, and her smile turned into a grim. "It's unsettling."

"It's about you," she admitted, descending to kiss him. God, she loved his mouth. "You know what you always were?" she asked, skimming his lips with hers.

"What?" She wasn't sure if he was prompting the answer or had missed the question entirely. She gave him a long, deep kiss before answering.

"You were always different."

He stilled. In such a way that he seemed to go cold under her touch -- heartbeat, breath... stopped. Time felt suspended.

"Different," he said, quietly. She pushed herself up, her eyes focusing on his in the dim light of the room. They gave nothing away.

"That's a compliment," she clarified. He nodded.

"I know."

She frowned, still searching his eyes. "I don't just mean..." she stopped, unable to pick a word. Sex. She'd always thrown that one at him. It was starting to feel reductive. Like something he might take offense to.

Yeah -- that's what she meant. Something was hanging over her. The awareness just wouldn't go away. She squirmed, feeling suddenly immensely uncomfortable in her own skin. God, she needed him to get this. She just did.

"I mean everything," she murmured, eyes leaving his, finally. "Like..." Like. Like the way your hands never leave me. The way you look at me. How you never make me feel like you don't want to be here. How you seem to want to hold me all the time. The thousands of different ways you kiss me. The way you can be rough and gentle in the same moment. How you make me feel... How you make me feel like you want to be here. Like you want to be with me. Like you love me. "I don't know," she frowned down at her finger tips. "Everything."

She felt his fingers on her upper arm, and jumped at the touch. Oh, God, she needed help! She dropped down, grinding her head against his shoulder, before letting herself return to her early position -- arm holding his rib cage, body cuddled up to him.

"Never mind," she tried to convince herself she didn't want to cry. "It's not important."

"What's going on?" he spoke softly, without any hint of accusation, insecurity, confusion -- all the things that had every right to be there. She let out her breath, eyes fixed on the far wall of the cabin. She didn't know the answer to that question. At least, she didn't know the whole answer.

"You're letting me off easy," she admitted, finally. It was as close as she could get to understanding this overwhelming feeling of wrongness that wouldn't leave her alone.

"For what?"

Her head jerked up. For what? Did this guy have no short-term memory? Or had she just short-circuited it along with his sense of self-preservation?

"I hurt you," she clarified. Nikolas made a face, and turned away.

"Carly."

"I did," she insisted, focusing on the irritation of being denied this. "Everything I did last week --"

"You said to me once... Getting a little hurt isn't necessarily a bad thing."

She stared at him. She couldn't believe he remembered that. "I was talking about sex."

"It doesn't matter."

"No, it does. It matters to me." She flushed again. God, what was WRONG with her? It was what he'd promised would happen. That she'd start to feel safe with him. Start to feel like she could trust in what he said. She waited for the fear to kick up -- for the neurosis that could be relied on to protect her to step in and tell her to shut up. Or worse -- to push him away. But she was tired of taking care of herself. She was tired of all of it. And in that moment, she felt herself give in. She rubbed her hand in slow circles on his chest. Concentrating on the warmth of his skin, rather than the words that were coming out of her mouth. "It's been a long time," he turned his head back to her, and her eyes felt pulled up to his. "Since someone mattered like that."

He blinked. That was all. Tiny little movement... and then his eyes changed and she felt a wave of relief flood her. He wasn't saying anything, but she knew... She touched him, too. Deeply, in ways she wasn't ready to think about or explore. She felt the pang in her stomach, and immediately moved for him -- her mouth closing over his, her hands taking his face and holding him close to her, even though there was no chance of him pulling away from her.

He let out a sigh, and his arm reached up to hold her close to him. She felt her insides flip. It was amazing that he could do that to her. That whole flush-of-nerves, butterflies in the stomach, thing. She loved how easy it was to melt into him. How she never had to worry about whether he wanted her there. Whether he was going to push her away. On impulse, she moved to straddle his waist and as she started to pull back, he lifted off the bed, following her -- staying with her until he was sitting up -- hands running up and down her back while she pressed against him.

God, this felt easy. Natural. She pulled back, burying her face in the crook of his neck, while her arms slid around his back. She hugged him -- feeling his arms close around her. She squeezed her eyes shut and held him. Let her fingers explore his back -- trace outlines -- Hard muscles. Sharp shoulder blades. The lines and angles, the incredibly warm and smooth skin. She felt him exhale against her, and a surge of energy -- something that came from the pit of her stomach and pushed through her... something that felt familiar and foreign at the same time. Like being intoxicated. Like being happy.

She lifted her head and lay several slow, wet kisses on his neck. Her movements were languid, but focused. She kissed the pulse point, feeling it throb against her tongue. Her hand slide into his hair, massaging the tendons at the base of his skull as she raised herself up on her knees, and found his mouth. It was hot and hungry under hers -- opening, inviting her in, readily. Neither of them seemed to be able to get enough, to connect as deeply as they were seeking to. She kept trying until lack of oxygen finally forced her to pull back.

She gazed down into her husband's disoriented face. She stroked his hair, watching him blink heavily. She curled her fingers into her palm, and let her knuckle trace along his hair line, his temple, then along his cheek. His eyes fell closed, and she followed the path she'd just traced with her lips -- laying soft kisses against his skin. He moaned -- a deep needy sound that he quickly tried to shut down. The sound reverberated through her, though. Heightened everything. She could feel her blood tripping over itself just under her skin. She pulled back, looking at him hazily. She licked her lips, then leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his.

"God, Nikolas..." She shook her head. "You make me feel..." she let a hand drag from his neck down his chest. "I want to show you."

Something -- it might have been apprehension -- flickered through Nikolas's eyes. "Carly."

"What do you think I'm going to do to you?" she laughed at the expression on his face. He turned his head away, and she immediately pressed her hand to his cheek, directing his gaze back at her. "Or should I be asking what do you hope I'm going to do to you?" She watched his eyes darken -- blink heavily as he started to harden against her. She pressed her palm against his breast bone and she could feel his heart beating -- strong and sure -- in his chest. She smiled at him, and after a moment, he smiled back. "You can make requests."

"And you're calling me insatiable," he groaned.

She grinned at him, shifting her hips forward. "Welcome to the twenty-first century."

The days were not getting any shorter for Bobbie Spencer. Having spent most of her day in surgery, and in and out of the windowless nurse's lounge, she had absolutely no idea what was going on in the world outside. It could be raining toads for all she knew. Though, presumably, that would set legions of injured residents flooding into the ER. Oh, lord. She was losing her mind. She really did have to get out of the hospital.

She'd tossed a long overcoat on over her street clothes and was digging in her purse for her car keys as she exited the elevator on the parking level. She really should go straight home. Spend some time with Lucas. Call a friend. Check in on Aunt Ruby. Her life was being neglected and she had to do something to get her daughter off her mind. Her brain was starting to go numb from the repetition. And there wasn't a hell of a lot she could do while Nikolas had them both sequestered God knows where --

Bobbie stopped sort, when her eyes collided with her car and the man leaning up against it. She looked down at the key chain, then back over her shoulder, noticing the two large men standing on either side of the door that had just swung behind her. This day, apparently, still had some fight left in it.

"Jason," she sighed, as she approached the racketeer and heartbreaker extraordinaire. He was dressed out of character, she noticed. Jeans, T-shirt and black leather jacket that was too warm for the weather. He came off the car as she approached, looking, she had to admit, like death warmed over.

"Bobbie."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she said coldly, coming to a stop in front of him. "It's been awhile."

His eyes flitted over her, before landing impassively on her shoes. "The wedding."

"Hmm," Bobbie crossed her arms. "I don't think we've been in a badly lit space alone since my daughter tried to gut you with a steak knife."

He had no comment. He hadn't, if she recalled, had much of a comment that night, either. Not that she'd given him a chance to talk. She'd probably still be screaming at him to this day, if he hadn't been such a profoundly unsatisfying person to read the riot act to. Proving her point, Jason changed the topic with all the enthusiasm of a... Well. Of a surgical nurse after a long shift.

"I need to find Carly."

Bobbie sighed heavily. Well. Forget the day -- this was going to be a long week.

"The line forms behind me," she said, dryly. "Nikolas took Carly out of town. I can get a message to them, but that's as good as it gets."

Jason blinked. "Out of town?"

"She needed a break," her voice contained a definite edge. "This has been hard on her."

"I know," Jason said, automatically. His brow was furrowed while his eyes scanned the far wall. Bobbie could see the wheels turning and it made her nervous. What the hell WAS this all about?

"Jason?" damn that twinge of concern. "Is everything all right? Do you --" she stopped, sucking in her breath. "This is about the baby, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "I promised Cassadine I'd let him know when the mother went into labor."

In the distant recesses of Bobbie's brain, something spoke up. Something heard from a distance -- background noise -- as she'd been rushing from one location to another. Amy had been gossiping up a storm today. She knew just from the quality of her voice, the few times she'd whizzed past her. And she'd gotten a few concerned looks from staff members that she hadn't wanted to know the story behind. It was making sense, now. Baby was on it's way.

"Is she... Now? The baby's coming now?" Her knees felt weak. Oh, God. She'd barely been able to deal with the news of projected baby. Actual baby -- actual in-their-arms infant -- She had no idea how Carly was going to react. She felt herself break into a cold sweat. "Is she in labor?"

Jason shook his head and just as Bobbie started to deflate in relief he said "Recovery."

"Then. . ."

"It's a girl," he confirmed.

Thank God for tiny, infinitesimal mercies. Maybe it didn't matter, but something inside Bobbie felt some relief at the news that the baby wasn't a boy. She didn't know why that little detail meant something, but it did.

"Where's Robin?" Bobbie asked, leaning on the SUV she'd parked beside for support. "Is she here?"

"She's with her right now," he said, the words dripping with fatigue. "They're worried. The baby's underweight."

Bobbie flinched in knee-jerk sympathy. "I'm sorry. Was the mother... She wasn't very old, was she?"

Jason nodded dully. "Fourteen," the way he said her age, sent a cold chill of remembrance down Bobbie spine. "She was scared, you know. Just. . . really scared."

"I had two years on her when I had Carly," Bobbie murmured, mostly to herself. "I remember the fear."

She glanced up and saw Jason looking at her. He looked blank -- more so than usual. Then pulled his hand out of his jacket, holding up a cell phone.

"I tried calling. I'm not getting anything but voice mail."

"I can get a message to him," she said, numbly. This was all too much information. "Nikolas... Nikolas talked to you?"

"He wanted to know first. So that he can tell Carly himself, instead-- "

"Of taking the chance you took last time."

Jason leaned back against the car. "Bobbie."

"Right. I'm probably not supposed to mention that. Well -- sorry. I've been paying for that goof all week."

He nodded, and ran a hand over his hair. "Have you seen her?"

"Yes." She didn't feel like elaborating further. "Have you?"

Jason shook his head. "Another thing Cassadine wants. Distance."

"What," Bobbie frowned. "Did Nikolas come to you with a list of demands?"

"He had things he wanted," he shrugged. "He told me what they were."

"And you're cooperating?" Bobbie was incredulous. It seemed unreal. She'd given Jason enough advice to know that he didn't take to it. Funny, considering who he'd married.

"If it's what's good for Carly."

"Good for Carly," her mouth twisted at the phrase. "To who's way of thinking?" Jason didn't answer, and Bobbie felt all good will and empathy drain out of her. "You've been having a hard time, lately, with what's good for Carly."

"The ball was a mistake. It won't happen again."

If there was one thing Bobbie knew, it was how big a mistake the ball had been. She'd been flagellating herself -- with Nikolas and Carly's ample assistance -- all week. But the fact of the matter was... She hadn't been the person who'd set up this situation. She'd just gotten caught in the middle of it. But this... This was the person who'd hurt her daughter. Over and over and over. This was the starting point.

"You know what?" she put both hands on her hips, cocking one head to the side. "I hope to hell you're serious about that, Jason. Because there are a lot of ways that I can see for you to hurt Carly again."

Jason's expression darkened. "Bobbie --"

"No -- " she put a hand up to stop him. "Someone's got to say this, and I know my daughter's not going to," she took a step forward, tipping her face up to look directly into his. " I know you don't mean to hurt her. I know you don't set out to hurt her. But you still hurt her! You still cause her pain on a regular basis."

Jason side stepped, extricating himself from her, then turned and paced down the narrow path between the two cars, into the lane way. He stopped, finally, and looked up at the ceiling.

"I know what happens between me and Carly."

"Do you?" she asked, following him. "Do you really, Jason? Because -- as her mother? I have to ask." Jason dropped his head, his back to her. He wasn't enjoying this, clearly, but Bobbie really couldn't have cared less. "I don't know what Nikolas said to you," she paused only to take a breath. "If he told you to get the hell out of her life and leave them both alone, I wouldn't be surprised. But you probably don't trust him."

Jason turned and looked back at her, his blue eyes cold. Bobbie had known Jason a long time before she'd been granted to the full gangster-stare. It had unnerved her the first time. Now it just ticked her off.

"I have no trouble with him until he makes trouble for her."

Bobbie stared at him, then gave a slight nod. "Uh huh. That's exactly how I feel about you. I had no trouble with you, until you made trouble for her."

"I never meant to hurt her."

"I know! And that's why I have to say this. It's why you have to hear me out."

"Ok. What is it?"

"I want you to stay away from her, Jason."

"I can't promise that."

"You have to," she said bluntly. "It's what's best for her."

"She can decide --"

"NO," Bobbie's voice echoed off the walls, reverberating through the garage. "No, she can't! Carly's never had the slightest clue what's best for her, and we both know it! And I don't want you giving Carly an excuse to mess this up. Because she's looking for one -- I can tell. She loves sabotaging herself, God knows why, and I can see her looking for a way to stick a knife into the middle of her marriage..." her voice started to quake, and she put up a warning finger. "If you care about my daughter at all -- if she means anything to you -- Then for God's SAKE, Jason. Stay away from her. You have Robin, you have your family now. They need you. Carly has Nikolas." she paused to pull in her breath. "And Nikolas loves Carly. I really want you to realize that, Jason. Not like a friend. Not like someone he needs around for Michael's sake -- he loves her. And you have a history of making my daughter go a little squirrelly. She'll use you to ruin this if she gets scared enough." Something flickered through Jason's eyes, and Bobbie felt a surge of triumph. "I'm right, Jason. You know I'm right."

He glanced away, looking up along the length of the garage, before turning back to her. "I'm just trying to do what's best for her. That's all."

She put up her hands, half-laughing as she said "So am I."

Jason nodded. "You'll make sure she gets the message."

"Oh, believe me," Bobbie promised fervently. "She'll get the message. That's not a mistake I ever want to see made again."

He nodded, then turned without another word and started back towards the elevator.

"Jason!" she called after him. He glanced back at her. His eyes narrowed a second and she stood there, alone. Jaw set, eyes fierce, chin tipped up. "When you got back up there and you look at that little girl... That spark you feel when you look at her and know she's yours -- that never goes away. That need to take care of her and protect her -- That's how I feel. That's what makes me say this to you. Just know that."

He stared at her a long moment, no hint of recognition in his features. Then he took a step back, and turned towards the door again.

"I'll think about it."

Spanish Translations:

"Lastima." It hurts.

"Sé," I know

"Usted necesita algo?" Do you need anything?